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obsessedwithceleste · 2 months

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Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

#slytherin boys #harry potter universe #slytherin #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #Theo Nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #Spotify

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kika-writes · 8 days

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the world - l.n

Warnings: sad Lando (turns happy)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando pretends he’s lost his job at McLaren to see Y/N reaction

“Alright chat,” Lando whispered into his mic, “time for the pranks to begin,”. Tucking his camera into his pocket, making sure the viewers could actually see the whole encounter, he walked into your main bedroom, changing his face immediately to one of sadness. “Hi baby,” you smiled at your boyfriend, totally oblivious to the recording. “Hi,” he said, ignoring your attempt to kiss him, making him frown. “Lando, is everything okay?” you asked, immediately putting your book down and tilting his face towards you. Lando could just imagine how the stream would be flooded with comments just at the mere action. “I have to tell you something,” he sighed, his acting was superb. “Anything, Lan, I’m here for you, what is it?” you hummed, as he rested his head on your shoulder, sniffing to hide his laugh.

“McLaren. They don’t want me anymore,” he said, getting straight to the point, “I get if you don’t wanna date me anymore…”. You scoffed, ending his sentence right there. “Lando. That’s so stupid, McLaren are stupid for that. They’re so, so, so stupid, and I wouldn’t break up with you for that,” you said, tilting his head up.

“I love you for YOU,” you said, bringing your lips to his as he set his phone down on the bed, ‘conveniently’ with the camera to both of you. “Really?” he said, carrying on his act. “Yeah, of course. You can work as a flipping male model in gucci for all I care. Actually, maybe D&G, I hate gucci,” you corrected, hugging him tightly. “Y/N, Y/N, I can’t,” he starting laughing, making you frown. He’d been close to tears seconds ago.

“What?” you asked, confused. “It was a prank. Fuck I feel horrible, love,” he frowned as you laughed. “I know it was, Lando, I knew it would be,” you rolled your eyes, making HIM frown. “How?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh please, I have a better relationship with McLaren than you do, they basically keep you for me. And even if they did fire you, they’d tell me first, so they can make sure Zak and Andrea can run quick enough,” you shook your head, now giggling.

“You bitch!” he gasped, punching your arm as you cackled. “You’re not fooling me with that little camera either, Norris,” you grinned, making him cross his arms. “You’re never getting the better of me,” you added, “plus, I’m on your stream,” you showed him your phone, making his roll his eyes. “You’re not that close with McLaren, are you?” he asked, breaking the silence. You handed him your phone, opening instagram as he opened the DMs.

mclaren

m - no way did he think he was slick w that lil prank 🤨🤨

y/n - he gotta try harder frfr 🙏🙏

m - watching the stream now smh

y/n - he need an Oscar for that acting icl

m - we alr gave him one 🤫🤫

y/n - like what u done there lmaooooo 😂😭

m - little does he know, im ur most texted 😍😍

y/n - I’m only w him for u 😘😘

m - 😨😨😨😨😨

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #lando x reader #f1

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biibini · 3 months

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nsfw modern!mizu headcannons pt3

tags: nsfw, smut, wlw, strap on referred to as cock, cunnillingus, praise, missionary, doggy, if u squint its rough, degrading, teasing, edging, ass squeezes, orgasm

a/n: happy 100??? followers?? i love u all???? i finished some hw and some photoshoot work so here's a treat for both of us :3

18+ content below!

modern!mizu loves to hold ur hand while she's deep inside u, strap on

that's if she's feeling sweet & loving

which is most nights

however, if u were acting like a brat it's totally different

she has the patience but if u rlly ticked her off

or left her during the summer for an internship

she'll still be loving but WAYYY more dirty talk

definitely degrade u

calling u her pretty slut

(yes i already talked ab this on the last part but lemme remind yall)

modern!mizu is big on praise

typically she's reserved when it comes to u in public

prefers to let her work talk for her such as a side hug or holding ur hand when u guys are out

through her actions, she’s loving without the need to say much

at times, she doesn’t mind calling u “love” or “baby” in a sweet endearing way when its just the two of u in public

but behind closed doors…

(im giggling and kicking my feet writing this sorry chat)

she loves constantly calling u her pretty girl or her love

those praises escalate into dirty territory especially when she knows ur close

(yes i also did write ab this but shhh)

and she gets all close to ur ear

while whispering sweet nothings, she continues to stimulate u with soft kisses and hickies on ur neck

she loves hearing how loud ur voice can rise under her touch

or how much ur wet cave squelches just with her two fingers

it's addicting to hear u unfold

modern!mizu prefers missionary

yeah sure its a basic vanilla position

but mizu can watch herself enter easily

ur practically dripping at this point

while having easy access to ur breasts

something soft and tender to hold

or easy access to ur sides and hold for stability

while having front row seats to ur entire reaction

a 3-in-1 combo

she just loves hearing her beautiful girlfriend’s voice slowly lose control of any noises coming out

any whimpers or moans will not be held back

modern!mizu would make it her mission to hear anything come out of u

similar to the praising point

but more on the border of teasing

it doesnt help that she lowers her voice the closer she gets to ur ears

if ur biting ur lip or biting the inside of ur cheek, she will spot u holding back

it’s a lil scary how easy she can read u

but u pay no attention once she’s close to ur neck, one of ur most vulnerable spots

Mizu nuzzles you, letting her head rest in the crook of your neck. You close your eyes and inhale, telling yourself to relax under Mizu. You feel a digit slowly pull out, continuing to thrust into you at a agonizingly slow pace. She pulls out again, a tear running down Mizu’s middle finger.

You take another deep breath, scrunching your eyebrows and attempting to control yourself. You feel Mizu kiss your neck, leaving behind bruises that are soon to bloom purple. She works her way to your ear, her breath practically melting you away.

“I know you want more, don’t you?”, Mizu whispered breathily. Her digit pushing deeper into you. You bite your lip, silencing your moan with a “mmph” instead.

She nibbles down the side of your neck, biting down a little more than usual. Her tongue glides over one of your growing hickies, now turning a deeper shade of maroon and purple. You moan in response, forgetting to hold it back.

"Let's use our words now.", Mizu coos, adding another digit deep inside of you.

modern!mizu would most prob be a dom/switch

a little more switch than dom

but mainly a service dom

as long as the both of u are feeling pleasure, she will always love it

if u request modern!mizu something, she will try her hardest to make u feel good

one time, u were curious ab edging

u have heard of the term but never experienced it

mizu had heard ab it through taigen and his stupid rants ab his situationships

u were in for quite a wild night

“Hey baby?”, you asked.

Mizu hummed next to you, scrolling through Tiktok.

The thought of edging was relatively new. You heard about the idea at one of your lecture classes, where a girl was talking with her friends about how her situationship did that to her. You heard many specific details, maybe too many, for a 9:00 lecture.

However, one thing stood out to you: she had the most deepest, amazing orgasm. According to her, at least.

“Do you know what edging is?”, you question, letting the curiosity get the best of you.

Mizu turned to face you. Shocked at your question, she closes and puts down her phone.

“Who told you what that was?”, she asked.

Your eyes widen.

Was it something mean?

“Why? Is it something bad?”, you say in a concerned tone.

Mizu breathily laughs. She wraps her arm around your side, pulling you closer under the sheets.

“No no, I just wasn’t expecting that kind of question.”

“So what is it?”, you persist, still curious about the idea. You watch her eyes quickly dart away from your gaze.

“Uhm…”, Mizu’s face slightly flushes, biting the outer corner of her lower lip. “It’s when you get really close, but then you never finish. At least that’s how Taigen explained it.”

Your mouth shapes into a little ‘o’.

“It’s supposed to make you finish on ‘a different level’. I didn’t really understand it but-“

“Should we try?”, you boldly ask.

The details of the girl’s experience from the lecture rung in your head: mind-blowing, amazing, earth-shattering. The list could go on. That girl could talk for hours.

Mizu cocked her eyebrow, immediately surprised by the invitation. She didn’t deny it though. As disgusting as Taigen described his experience, it intrigued Mizu. Her mind started to dwell on the thought: your legs trembling and shaking under her, your moans and squirming, the volume of your cries...

The idea of you screaming her name lit a bulb in her head.

Out of nowhere, she pulls you underneath her. Mizu rests her hand by your face to cup your cheek. Her thumb caresses your right cheek, lightly grazing your lips. You look up to meet her eyes: a deep ocean blue darkened with lust. They glance down and quickly look back up to meet your gaze.

Mizu gets closer to you, slightly tilting your head to whisper close to your ear.

"Let's try.", she whispers. You feel her lips plant kisses along your neck, feeling it tickle and tease you.

"Now?", you stammer as Mizu continues down your neck, gently lifting under your pajamas. You feel her hand lift the fabric and palm one of your breasts. You groan as Mizu's thumb grazes over your nipple, hardening under your touch.

Mizu scoffs. "Do you not see yourself right now?", she states as she inches closer to your heat, now aching for her touch.

Blush starts to form on your face. Mizu knew how to turn you on, but you've never seen her so quick with it.

With one hand busy toying with your breasts, Mizu inches her other hand down towards your soft cotton panties. Her fingers slide down from the edge, feeling your curves and valleys. She stops at your entrance and feels the change of the fabric, drenched with your juices.

You hear her chuckle into the crook of your neck. "Do you not feel yourself right now?", she teases, her voice almost deepening as she continues to palm your wet spot.

"Not until now- Mizu!", you yelp. You feel her finger tuck under the fabric, now directly touching your pouring wet mess. She lowers her hand and enters, enveloping her fingers with your fluids.

Your head knocks back as you take a deep breath in. Half of your mind was already in another dimension, getting lost in the pleasure. The other half was still present in bed but slowly losing itself with every thrust Mizu made. You aren't even close to finishing and you're already losing your mind.

You feel her finger pull out, making you feel empty inside. She tugs your panties off and shifts closer to your lower half. You feel your lower half face her mouth. It doesn't take long for you to feel full once again as she plunges two digits into you.

You moan in response. You feel them gain speed, tickling the tip of your cervix. She puts those long, slender fingers to good use. Busy with feeling of your insides getting fucked out, you fail to forget about the feeling of Mizu's tongue lapping up any liquids coming out of you.

She continues to do so, her tongue gliding along the sides of your entrance. Mizu licks up, lightly licking the tip of your clit. A jolt of pleasure shoots up in your head.

"Ah, fuck me Mizu!", you yell into the pillow. Her pace continues to inch deeper into your gushing wet caves. To Mizu's surprise, they easily pull in and out of you, making a squelching noise every time she pushes a little bit deeper.

"I am, don't worry.", Mizu coos. She continues to lap at your clit, circling it every so often. With one hand inside of you, she wraps her other arm around your leg. She feels the warmth of your inner thigh touching her cheek, heating her up as she continues to work on you.

You feel her fingers slightly curl, brushing the rough ceiling of your insides. Instinctively, your hips buck against her mouth & fingers. She groans and gets back to it, tightening her grip on your leg.

The feeling of her fingers continuously touching your sensitive spot sent you to madness. Your hips continue to buck only to be constricted by Mizu's arm. At this point, you are attempting to find any way to move your hips, practically grinding on her face. Gaining speed towards your climax, you try to ride her fingers with her thrusts. In an attempt to chase your nearing orgasm, your moans grow louder. But it is to no avail.

Mizu notices the way your walls start to rhythmically tighten around her fingers. She pulls back her tongue and slowly pulls out her fingers. She feels your liquids drip down her digits, slowly pooling by her palm.

"Is my pretty girl close?", she teases.

Fuck, she brought out that pet name.

You feel her breath an inch away from your throbbing wet entrance, almost teasing your release.

"Y-Yes. Please let me finish. I'm so close.", you beg. Your hips try to grind on something, anything. Without thinking, you aim to feel her lips with yours to feel some kind of pleasure. Instead, you pathetically grind on the bottom half of Mizu's face, covering it with your juices.

Mizu shakes her head, smiling deviously at your attempt.

"Not yet baby. Wait a bit."

Her hands don't shift back to their original position. Instead, you feel them wrap around your thighs and squeeze against Mizu's face. You look down to view Mizu smiling angelically. Yet her actions proved others: downright devious.

modern!mizu doesn't enjoy doggy as much as she enjoys missionary

but it allows her to grab onto your ass and waist and squeeze u closer to u

it lowk highkey makes her go crazy when yall r doing doggy and she sees ur reflection in the mirror

yeah she can hear ur moans and see ur beauty from the back

but to be able to get a view of ur reaction thru the mirror too omg…

You hear the bathroom door open only to find Mizu, strapped on. Beforehand, you had just been making out post-shower and getting ready to go to bed. That was until someone (cough cough Mizu) started caressing your side and touching under your pajama top.

She gets close to you, her hands caressing your hips. Mizu faces you and places soft kisses on your lips, trailing down to your neck. Her lips make work towards the back of your neck as she flips you behind. You look into the mirror as you feel her hands tighten their grip on your hips.

Mizu meets your gaze, grinning at your stare.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ma be nice.”, she reassures, entering a finger into your dripping entrance.

“Fuck-“, you curse. You feel her middle finger gain pace, only to pull out mid-pleasure.

Before you can even complain, you feel her cock poke at your entrance. Its length now covered with your silky fluids. She slowly pushes into your cavern, gripping your hips tighter.

You moan into the mirror. You watch as your knuckles turn white, gripping tightly from the light pain. You check in the mirror to watch Mizu’s reaction. You feel her slowly inch closer inside you, stretching your insides.

A cry escapes your mouth. Her rhythm slowly starts, back and forth. Every inch deeper inside you was a signal of pleasure going straight to your pain.

As for Mizu, she was watching how good you were taking her cock. She sees it slowly enveloping it inside of you, getting coated with all your fluids. She fully thrusts all the way in to the hilt to hear another cry.

And you do cry in response. Right into the mirror. Your reaction perfectly laid out in front of the mirror for Mizu to witness.

“God, you’re taking it so well tonight.”, Mizu complimented, her pace quickening. She glances at the mirror again to see your reaction in the reflection: Your eyes glimmering, filled with pleasure. Your mouth is still swollen, cherry red, from making out earlier. Your cheeks also match the same shade, flushed from the stimulation. God, you looked beautiful.

You feel her enter you again, her hips meeting yours. Mizu’s hands tighten their grip, prepping herself.

You moan loudly as she continues to pound into you. You feel her length roughly enter you, filling you whole. Instinctively, you yelp into the mirror. You try to say something to Mizu. But with every thrust, you fail to form a complete sentence. Your attempt at communication left you mumbling.

Embarrassed, you put your head down against the bathroom countertop. The cold surface felt refreshing against your heated cheeks. However, that only lasted for a moment.

Mizu, still mesmerized by your lower half, checked on the reflection to find your face missing. Instead, it was hiding against the countertops. She slow down her thrusts to an agonizing pace.

“Y/N,”, she called. You respond to her call and looked up into the mirror. “Lemme see that pretty face of yours again.”

You bring your face up to the mirror and look at her through the reflection. She smiles contently and gives your back a kiss.

“Good girl.”

She returns to her original rhythm, fast and deep inside you. You could only moan and cry in front of the mirror, letting your reaction be shown by Mizu. Her cock began to graze the ceiling. Your moans grow louder in response.

As Mizu watches you crumble under her through the mirror, she shifts her hands to your cheeks. Her hands massage them softly and watch them ripple with every thrust inside of you. Mizu grabs both cheeks to spread them apart, gaining a better view of your dripping wet entrance.

“Ah, Mizu!”, you respond. She thrusts in again, hitting a deeper, sensitive angle.

Mizu heard you yell in response and coordinates with the angle. A part of her wishes she could truly feel you inside: to feel your insides squeeze her and envelop her with your juices, to fully feel you orgasm as she’s still inside you fucking you out.

She continues to pound into the same sensitive angle, grabbing onto the sides of your cheeks for some stability. You, on the other hand, feel a twist in your lower stomach start to form. The stimulation, the angle, the way she was grabbing you: it was all coming together.

Your back shoots up, arching up with every thrust. You could no longer hold back any noises and let yourself go. The bathroom walls echoed with your moans, along with the rhythmic slapping from Mizu’s thrusts.

“I’m- ah!”, you feel Mizu get closer to your back as her right hand starts to gently palm your clit, circling the outside perimeter.

“M’so close, Mizu- fuck!”, you say as you look into her gaze through the reflection: her breath heavy, her eyes so dark that the blue reflect like diamonds. Holy fuck.

Her fingers continue to circle your clit, rubbing st s faster pace. The knot tightens and tightens, until you feel her hit the deepest spot, barely touching your cervix. At that point, you let everything go: the knot, the counter, your tight grip on her cock.

You cry as your legs try to spread apart. Your hips attempt to ride out the orgasm, only to be helped by Mizu as her cock goes in and out. You moan out her name as she lets go of your lower half and starts peppering kisses up your spine. She gentle caresses your hips and slowly pulls out.

Liquid gold starts to seep out. Mizu watches as the strap on glimmer under the bathroom lights. You turn the face her, also mesmerized by its shimmer.

(idk if i covered this already but whatever)

modern!mizu’s ideal aftercare is washing up with hot cup of tea and in bed cuddling

rewinding and relaxing afterwards never felt so comforting until u came around

typically, she’ll let u choose the tea of the nicht

but if ur tired out, she can pick up and do the work for u

a few soft kisses here and there

as long as u feel comforted, shes at peace

#mizu bes #bes mizu #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #mizu headcanons #mizu x y/n #mizu x you #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #headcannons #modern mizu #mizu smut #mizu x reader smut #mizu x you smut #mizu come home the kids miss you #mizu pls ill take it so good #mmhmm pls mizu

652 notes · View notes

skzstannie · 4 months

Text

“What about Ben?”

SKZ-> ot8 x 9th member fem! reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort wc: ~4,800 cw: reader has a panic attack and depression, Ben is ur lil bro

summary: your mom isn’t happy about your absence at your brother’s birthday party, but she takes her anger a step too far this time

A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone has a blessed 2024! Part 2s for both the Felix and the Han fic are underway, so send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the tag list for either of them!

Happy Scrolling! | Masterlist

"Mom, you know I can't just up and leave! What are you expecting me to do?"

You find yourself having the same conversation with your parents time and time again- they want you to come home, you can't come home, then they give you the silent treatment for a period of time until they want you to come home for something else.

It's mentally exhausting, having to deal with their constant negative remarks towards you job. You only do it for your little brother; him growing up without you is not in the cards for you. In fact, that's what this argument you're having with your mom is about this time.

"I expect you to put your family first for once in your life!" your mother yells back. You flinch, pulling the phone away from your ear.

"Mom, you know I wouldn't miss Ben's birthday unless I absolutely have to. I want to be there for him, I really do!" your words do little to convince her as she already has her mind made up about the type of person you are.

"This has happened one too many times. Missing the occasional family gathering is one thing, but it’s your brother's birthday." Her disgust easily wafts through the speaker of your phone, and you bite your lip to keep from absolutely lashing out at her.

Your parents were never understanding of your job. They always expected you to just pack up your bags and fly home for the smallest of things.

Your baby cousin said her first words? "Why aren't you here?"

Your little brother lost another tooth? "Why would you want to miss this important milestone?"

Your grandma got a new dog? "What kind of heartless person denies their grandparents?"

Over and over, you've been criticized for your job. You give them the same explanation each time, as it's the truth.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I want to be there; I really really do. It's just that-"

"Always with the excuses. Ya know what? I'm tired of the excuses," she pauses and your breath hitches in your throat.

"Ma?" your voice is choked up, and you find your lip wobbling from where it's pulled between your mouth.

Your mother sighs, her disappointment evident. "We're done with the excuses, Y/N. If you can't be here for us, I don't think this is going to work out."

You swear your heart stops upon hearing her words. "What do you mean?" the laugh you let out is far from humorous. It's desperate. "How could it not work out? I'm your daughter, there's nothing to work out. You're supposed to love me and care for me, unconditionally."

"You've crossed the line too many times. Don't try to spin this around and make me the bad guy. This is completely your fault, you and those stupid boys."

Your parents could talk trash about you all they want, but you never let them get away with saying stuff about your boys. "You can belittle me, argue with me, call me every name in your book, but I will not let you talk about the guys like that. They're my family, too," your almost able to catch yourself, but you realize your mistake far too late.

"Oh, yea? Well, if those guys are your family, why not spend the rest of your time with them, too. It’s not like you weren’t already planning to anyway. Spend your holidays with them, your birthdays with them. He’ll, what do you even need us for?”

Tears well in your eyes, a mix of anger and fear swelling deep in your gut. "Mom, you know that's not what I meant." You’re completely choked up, your words coming out just above a whisper in volume.

You've had fights, but they never go as far as this. Usually, your mom would've hung up by now, leaving you with nothing but radio silence for months on end.

As toxic as this is, she's your mom. You couldn't live this life without her. She's toxic now, using your vulnerability against you every chance she gets, but she wasn't always that way.

She was once a loving mother, one who packed your lunch every morning for school, sending you off with a kiss on your cheek. A mom who'd pay extra to get more of your school pictures so she could put them on her desk at work and in her car. She used to show her love for you as any mother does, but you havent felt that in so long.

The last time you were home was a little over two months ago, and not once did she hug you, kiss you, or even touch you. She was cold and emotionless towards you.

You should've seen it coming. All this tension building up for months on end, it was going to have to bottom out eventually.

As much as the above is true, the words that flew out her mouth next shocked you beyond belief, causing the tears to flow freely from your waterline.

"Don't come back home, Y/N. I'm serious. You've done too much damage to my family." There’s a beeping on the other end of the phone, and it drops from your shaking hand to the carpeted floor beneath you.

Don't come back?

You were always sorry, apology after apology leaving your lips when you had to miss something your family organized. You thought it'd be okay. Your mom would get over herself eventually, and you'd come home when the company allowed you to.

You pick up the phone, hands a trembling mess, and call back, praying for another chance to explain yourself. You’re met with an automated message, the robotic voice piercing your ear.

"I'm sorry, this customer is unavailable."

You hang up and call again. She wouldn't have blocked you. It was just a silly fight, right?

"I'm sorry, this customer is-" you hang up before the message finishes, throwing your phone onto the floor next to you.

Your sobs become audible, and your body crumbles onto the floor, your knees thankful for the soft surface the carpet provides. Your fingers claw at the skin around your eyes, looking for a relief from the emotional pain coursing through your body.

Red lines mark your face, leaving the areas tender and puffy.

Your heart constricts in betrayal.

How could she?

She raised you, gave birth to you. How was it so easy for her?

The thought of your little brother enters your jumbled thoughts, and your heart breaks further.

He’s only six years old, and he is the best little brother you could ever ask for. He loves with all his heart, and you are lucky enough to get to experience it, to be apart of that little circle he could wrap his arms around and squeeze with all his might.

The thought of never squishing his chubby cheeks again destroys you, and you're unable to express the amount of heartache you're feeling.

So you scream.

You scream loud, your emotions ripping through your throat like shards of glass through skin.

You’re too distraught to notice the door to your bedroom whipping open. Chan and Minho stand there in the doorway, their eyes wide and mouths agape.

They've never seen you like this before. They've never seen anybody like this before, actually. Your screams are manic as they bounce off the walls around you, echoing around the room.

Once their shock dies off, they rush over to you. Minho is gentle in his grip but firm as he pries your hands away from your face. He gasps when he sees the damage your nails have already done, your once soft features now blotchy with angry red streaks.

You continue to scream, your nails now digging into Minho's arm. Chan grabs you from behind, doing his best to soothe you out of your hysteria.

"Y/N, you have to calm down. Please, it's ok, shhh," he says, his hold around you tight in an attempt to give you some sense of security.

"What happened? Can you talk to us?" you ignore Minho.

They accept that you're too worked up too answer them, and they let you finish your episode, the two of them doing everything they can to try and soothe you.

The rest of the guys in the dorm stand in the doorway now, your cries too agonizing for them to ignore. Varying degrees of shock are spread across their faces as they watch.

Chan starts to mumble sweet words to you as you come out of your panic attack, your brain finally able to register your surroundings again.

“It hurts,” you whimper, chest aching. “It’s so hard to breathe.”

"It's ok, we're here," he repeats, his head pressed up against the side of yours.

"Tell us five things you can see right now," Minho says from beside you, his grip still tight around your sweaty hands.

Your voice is scratchy, your throat red and scarred from your screams, but you oblige, knowing this will help you ground yourself. "I see my alarm clock," your eyes scan your room, landing on the bright digital clock you have sitting on your bedside table.

"Good," he hums, "What else?"

Your eyes travel to the door and you see the scared faces of the rest of your members. You lock in on Felix, his hands clenched tightly in front of him as salty tears stream down his face.

"I see Felix," you whisper, the pain from your throat becoming more and more noticeable.

He nods his head. "Good, now three more things. What else do you see?"

You look to your opened closet, your eyes catching the way your clothes spill out of your messy dresser onto your floor. "I see my favorite hoodie. I see my curtains, and I see that stain on my wall."

"Perfect, Y/N. Take a few deep breaths now." You breathe with Minho, your erratic breaths eventually matching his steady ones.

Finally calmed down enough, you slump back into Chan's hold, completely exhausted from the panic attack.

The room is silent for a moment, all the guys letting you have a second to gather your bearings.

"What happened?" Changbin steps through the rest of the members, settling next to the three of you on the floor. The rest follow suit, some sitting on your bed and some sitting beside Changbin.

"It's my mom again. I don't even know, I think she like, kicked me out? Like, kicked me out of the family?" You're almost embarrassed to explain the situation. You don't know why, maybe in fear your members will think your mom's right. That maybe you have been missing too many family functions, and that you should’ve made more time for them.

"Y/N, that's awful," hums of agreeance come throughout the room, and Hyunjin's words help to reassure you. "You don't deserve that, not one bit."

"She's completely out of line. Nothing you did warranted this at all," Seungmin chimes in. He knows thoughts of uncertainty are swirling through your head, the gaslighting from your mother turning your thoughts to mush.

"What about Ben?"

"What about him? You know your mom's full of shit, and the minute you show up at her doorstep she'll welcome you in. She's bluffing," Changbin pipes up again, his shoulders tight with anger.

"I don't think she is this time."

~ ~ ~

It's another day, and you've spent it the exact same way you spent the last five- curled up in your bed with the lights off, mindlessly scrolling through your phone.

Chan's come in to check on you periodically, but you’ve been alone for the most part.

The knock at your door alerts you from your sleepy state, and you call them in.

“Hey, I brought you some soup. Minho made it earlier today, and I figured you might be hungry,” Chan says, giving you a timid smile.

“Thanks, Chan, but I’m not really hungry right now. Can you just set it there?” You point to the little table you have at the end of your bed, “I’ll eat it later, I promise.”

Your phone starts to ring, and you gasp when you see who’s calling.

Dad

You pick up immediately, and you’re met with the distant yells of your parents. Confused, you ask, “Hello, Dad?”

“Sissy,” comes through. It’s Ben. His voice is small, and fear seeps through the speaker.

“Buddy, what’s wrong?” You keep your tears at bay, knowing you need to be strong for him. Chan sits down beside you when he hears the little voice you’re talking to, and he rubs your back in comfort.

“Mom and Dad are fighting again,” he sniffles, the microphone personifying every bit of his sadness. “I miss you, Sissy.”

“I miss you, more, buddy, but I don't think we're gonna be able to see each other for a while," you choke back sobs.

“But I miss you so much,” he’s crying harder now, and it’s hard to hold yourself together knowing he’s struggling like he is.

“I know, buddy, I know. I’m so sorry I missed your birthday, I couldn’t get a day off work,” you explain. Chan brings his finger up to your cheek, catching your tear before it’s able to fall from your cheek.

You hear Ben gasp, and your heart beat picks up. “Ben, is everything ok? What happened?”

“Mommy’s coming, and I have to go. She told me I couldn’t talk to you, but I stole Dad’s phone. Love you, sissy,” and he’s gone before you can even say it back.

Chan eventually leaves your side upon your request to be alone for a while. The soup beside your bed grows cold as your sadness overwhelms you once again.

~ ~ ~ "Alright, rise and shine!" you're awoken from your slumber by the bright light shining in from your window. You groan, throwing your pillow over your head to block the light. Your curtains hadn’t been opened in weeks, and you were planning on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

"Nope," the intruder says, ripping the pillow from off your face.

"We've allowed you to wallow in this room long enough. If we're not performing or doing an interview, you're laying in the dark in bed." Your eyes open, crusty and sore from the crying you did before falling asleep the night before.

Hyunjin's face paints your irises, his features full of determination.

"Time to get up." He throws your pillow back on the bed beside you, turning to walk out your door. "Oh, and pack a bag, we're flying somewhere today."

You shoot up in bed at that. "Nothing's on the schedule for today, so where are we going?”

‘Is it something I can get out of?’ is what you really want to say, but you keep it to yourself.

"It’s a surprise. Get up and get dressed, we leave in an hour," he finishes, closing the door behind him.

You slide out of bed, your limbs dragging your covers onto the floor. You don't bother picking them up, too tired to care about the messy appearance of your room.

You quickly get ready, throwing on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. You pull your hair up into a ponytail, attempting to hide the grease that's accumulated over the past few days.

The ride to the airport is quiet and relatively peaceful. Everyone's happy to see you up and moving again, but the facade you've been putting on for the public has been washed away in your tired state, leaving your features drowsy. The dark circles under your eyes are prominent, your cheekbones sticking out more than usual. Your hair’s thinned a little, and your lips are cracked from your lack of hydration.

Through security and the rest of the way through the airport, you grip Jisung's arm, both of you needing the other's support in the overcrowded building.

Chan had explained to you that the managers wanted to start filming for the next SKZ Code a day early, fearing it might take longer than expected.

When you see the television next to your boarding terminal, your eyes practically bug out of your head.

Why would you be filming the next SKZ Code in your hometown?

That's the last place you want to go, your fight with your mom still fresh in your mind. You've been feeling the affects of it, her harsh words and actions sending you deep into a depressive episode.

Your members have noticed, trying their best to pull you from it, but nothing they did seem to work.

They can't begin to sympathize with you, none of them ever experiencing the kind of hurt you feel deep in your heart, wreaking havoc on your sanity. All they can do is offer you words of encouragement and love, assuring you that you still have a family, a very real one. While the nine of you may not be related by blood, the bond between all of you is strong.

They decided to take their efforts one step further, however, after seeing you begin to spiral. Your naps became longer and more frequent, often taking up most of the time you were supposed to be awake. You had been neglecting your self care routine, not even having enough energy to shower and brush your teeth most days.

Chan decided that enough is enough, so he convinced the managers to book you all a flight to your hometown to try and reconcile your family. As much as they wanted your mom out of your life, you were much more sane with her in it, and you needed your dad and your brother.

~ ~ ~

The flight was a success, everything going perfectly smooth.

You're now squished into the backseat of a car on the way to the house you'll all be staying at for the remainder of the filming.

The first thing you notice when pulling up into the driveway is how beautiful the house is. The front yard has the most angelic archways leading up to the house, with flowers lining the sidewalk and little statues spread about.

The house itself is amazing. Tall glass windows cover most of the front, the sunlight easily shining through, lighting up the front room.

The five of you- Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, I.N, and yourself- make your way into the house, and all of your previous worries disappear at the sight of the incredible interior. The walls are lined with expensive looking art, chandeliers hang from the tall ceilings, and the floors are marbled with white and gray.

Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, and Seungmin went to the store in the other van. They said they needed to pick up some last minute essentials for your stay.

Little did you know, they were actually going to your parents house. Their hopes were to get your mother to forgive you, or at least be civil so you could have a conversation with her.

Unfortunately, their visit did not go as planned, and it ended with your mother threatening to call the cops on them if they didn't leave the property immediately. This, of course, did not deter Lee Know from giving her a piece of his mind. His outburst was in Korean, and the insults he threw at her were so quick she'd never be able to recall them to look them up in a translator.

As much as they wanted to stay, to defend you and help you get your family back, they knew they couldn't. Getting law enforcement involved was the last thing they needed, knowing their managers would immediately regret sending them on this short getaway.

So, with that, they went back to the house with anger embedded in their hearts. They didn't want to have to tell you the real reason you all came here. They didn't know how you would react. Would you be thankful they tried to help? Would you feel betrayed that they'd went to your home without permission? They didn't know, but it was time to face the music; there was no SKZ Code to film, and they had no shopping bags in hand, so the truth was going to have to come out.

"Y/N," Chan sighs as he plops down next to you on the couch. You're both seated in the sunroom, looking out at the lake that sits in the backyard.

He gets your attention, and you slide your phone in your hoodie pocket, turning your body to face him. "What's up?"

He hates that he has to be the one to bring up your family again. You look so peaceful, your face no longer contorted with sorrow and pain like it'd been for weeks now, but he knows he has to tell you. It’s only fair to you. "So, please don't get mad, but this whole thing may or may not have been just a setup for you to see your family again."

Your heart beats out of your chest at the mention of seeing your family again. "Really, when can we go?" Your excitement radiates off of you, and you quickly stand to your feet.

Chan grabs ahold of your sleeve and gently guides you back down next to him, his eyes filled with pity. "Well, when we said we were going shopping earlier, we actually went to your house," he pauses, his eyes scanning your features; your face is blank, the excitement from seconds ago long gone. "Your mom wasn't exactly appreciative of our presence, and she kicked us out. Said she'd call the cops if we didn't leave. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

Your mind whirls with the information Chan just threw at you. "So, all of this," you gesture to your surroundings, "was for me? There's no SKZ Code?"

He shakes his head, his hand coming to rest on your arm, "No SKZ Code."

"And my mom still doesn't want to see me?"

He shakes his head again, slower this time. "I'm so sorry for doing this to you. I thought she'd be more open to talk to you, to us, but she wasn't. If I'd have known it'd end this way, I would've never done all this."

You sit there in silence, your gaze downcast. There's no sadness or anger in your heart, no tears welling up in your eyes. You expelled all the emotions you could over the past few weeks, and you've left yourself with nothing.

You stand, your only desire to go lay down on the plushy bed you found in one of the bedrooms when you were exploring earlier. As you walk away from Chan, he stops you.

"Where are you going?"

"To sleep."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I can come with you?"

"No thank you, I'll be fine," your voice is robotic as you decline his offer. You make your way to the room, climbing up the stairs to the second floor.

You're out like a light as soon as your head hits the feathery pillow, the day’s events catching up to you all at once.

~ ~ ~

You're rudely awoken by the sound of your phone ringing. You pull it out from your pocket, your eyes squinting at the brightness.

Your eyes widen at the contact name that appears on the screen.

Dad

You quickly press the answer button, scared if you wait too long the opportunity will disappear quicker than it showed up.

Your dad had always been a follower. He's the youngest of four siblings, so it was instinctual for him to do what they did. When he married your mom, he had been the same way. Whatever your mom said went.

Your dad loved you and your brother so much, with all his heart, but when your mom started to act up, he became distant. He was never mean to you; he just stopped calling one day, stopped texting. You knew it was because of your mom; a part of you thought he was scared of her.

The last few times you'd gone home, the tension between them was almost unbearable, but your dad always rolled with it. Essentially, he was your mom's very own punching bag. You felt bad for him, but only he had the power to do something about it. You certainly didn't want to say anything. You were already walking on eggshells with her, the last thing you wanted to do was upset her more.

You bring the phone up to your ear, a shaky 'Hello?' leaving your overly chapped lips.

"Hi, sweetie. It's Dad," his voice is as shaky as yours, and he sounds choked up.

"Dad, what's wrong?"

"I can't do it anymore, Y/N. I cannot listen to her and let her treat you this way anymore."

Your heart breaks for him. All throughout your childhood they had been a happily married couple. The love they had for each other was immense.

"I'm getting a divorce, and I'm taking your brother with me."

Your heart is so conflicted. On one hand, this is the greatest news you've ever heard. You'll get your dad and brother back! On the other hand, you'd never wish divorce on anyone. While this experience would not be exceptionally hard for you, given your nonexistent relationship with your mom and the fact that you don't even live at home, it would certainly be hard for the people you love.

"After your band mates came and tried to talk some sense into your mother, it made me realize how blind I've been these past few years. She’s been so mean and cruel to you, and I just sat by and watched."

You don't know how your little brother will take it. Your mom has spoiled him with everything under the sun. This will surely devastate him.

Your dad, too, this can't be easy for him. You know it's not easy for him from the quiet sobs you hear on the other side of the phone.

You're not sure what to say as he continues to cry. "Dad-"

"Honey, please forgive me," he pleads, his voice cracking. "I've let your mom walk all over us for years now, and I'm so sorry."

"Dad, it's ok. It's not your fault."

He's quiet for a moment. "I have Ben at Grandma's house now. Can you come? He's crying so hard. It wasn't easy to leave, your mom put up a fight and was screaming. I think it scared him a bit."

"Yes, Dad, I will be there as soon as possible. I'm leaving now. Can you send me the address so I can give it to the driver?"

He sends the address and you hang up, promising you'll see him in just a few minutes.

You hurriedly put your shoes on and run down the stairs. All your members are sat in the living room, some video game lighting up the television.

"My dad’s getting a divorce, and he has my brother at my grandma's right now. I have to go see them," you quickly ramble out, looking in your purse to make sure you have everything.

The guys are stunned at your demeanor. They haven't seen you move with such determination in weeks.

"I'm coming with you," Chan says matter-of-factly, standing from the sofa to put his shoes on.

"Chan, you don't have-"

"I want to. I just want to make sure everything's alright," he sighs at the look you give him, your eyes boring into his. "I'll even stay in the car."

You roll your eyes at that, but you don't fight him. You suppose it doesn't really matter if he's there; you just want to see your family again.

~ ~ ~

One short car ride later and you're jumping out of the car, the seatbelt flinging back against the door. Your brother waits for you on the porch, the biggest smile gracing his lips.

You sprint at him, swinging him off his feet and embracing him tightly. "I've missed you sissy!" he cheers, his little arms wound tight around your neck. His tears have dried since your phone call with your dad, leaving little streaks down his cheeks.

"I've missed you more, Bubby," you tell him, thankful to have him in your arms again. Your eyes crinkle as your mouth splits into the biggest smile.

Your dad comes outside upon your arrival and wraps the two of you in a hug, giving you a tight squeeze. His eyes meet Chan's over your shoulder, who decided to step just outside of the car.

'Thank you,' your dad mouths to Chan, giving him a grateful smile.

‘Thank you’ for what? Chan wasn’t exactly sure. Bringing you to him? He’d do it a million times over. Taking care of you? He’d never let you struggle without him by your side.

Chan gives him a thumbs up in reply, just happy to see you happy again.

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ghost-recs · 14 days

Note

can we get some bakugou recs 😊😊 (written and smaus pleaseee)

hello hellooo! oh man do i ever have some! you have no idea the can of worms you are opening my friend.

but first i am so sorry for how late this rec is! i wanted to get this done days ago, but the semester has been crazy packed. i'm going to get through all my asks one by one. thank you for your patience! anyways let's get into this !!

Bakugou Recs

Garden of Lungs (Hanahaki) by oweCrew [ao3]

synopsis: you have your whole life ahead of you, a promising future and jobs lined up after UA...but these stupid flowers are going to be the death of you, literally.

i flew through this fic so fast. it was the first time i had every heard of hanahaki disease and oof to my heart. i loved it!

Late Night Calls by fictionpls [ao3]

synopsis: much to bakugou's disdain, you skipped your meals again. tch, he's basically taking care of you at this point.

cute lil fluff oneshot with bakugou as your best friend...maybe more.

Nothing More, Nothing Less by @dekustowel

synopsis: bakugou made a big whoopsies. the only way to get out of it? fake date you, the internet's sweatheart, duh!

this smau idea has a hold on me. i'm a sucker for the fake dating trope. and i mean seriously, it's bakugou! [ongoing...]

Nerd (Affectionately) by @oniku-niku

synopsis: you're in love with bakugou, have been since you were kids. there was no use in hiding the truth. but did he have to be so rude about it??

most of this smau is a big ouch to the heart. but the drama gets heavier as the story goes on and i'm here for it! happy soft ending! :)

Speak by Kikyo851 [ao3]

synopsis: you could not believe that your soulmate was such a crude and violent person...just to spite the universe and him you decide not to say a word to your "soulmate."

soulmate au in which the first words that your soulmate says to you is written on your wrist. this fulfilled my needs of a bakugou soulmate au! so cute and it is complete!

Of Snowscapes & Explosions by sugarbun [ao3]

synopsis: you've been categorized as second to shoto todoroki ever since grade school. after a frustrated vent to bakugou and a few of his cracks revealing some of his own frustrations you realize that maybe you and him aren't so different after all.

guys....when i tell you this fic is the slowest slow burn. i feel like it's so accurate to how bakugou would actually fall for someone. sadly, this fic is unfished tho and hasn't been updated in a couple years😭 but you should read it anyways.

cover shot (through the heart) by @andypantsx3

cross posted on ao3 here! cover shot (through the heart) by andypantsx3

synopsis: you're the only one who can deal with bakugou's attitude in the industry. he hasn't found something that bothers you...until he starts flirting with you, hello??

model/celebrity au. super cute fic. i'm warning you this is much spicier than some of my other recs. mdni. (also check out this author's other works. they have a lot of top tier content!!)

Motherly Love by @kweenkatsuki-fics

synopsis: bakugou gives his mom a late night call to thank her. the reason why softens her heart greatly.

super soft lil drabble that just about brings me to tears everytime i read it. in love with bakugou fr.

déjà vu by @cashmoneyyysstuff

synopsis: bakugou thinks back to some oddly familiar memories with you. and one thing always stays the same, you both are together.

oneshot the made my jaw drop. hit me hard in the feels.

untitled oneshot by @honeypirate

synopsis: being paired with your number 1 enemy for a group project proved that the universe hated you. well might as well have some fun with this and make bakugou's life just as miserable.

college au oneshot. i am always down for a good enemies to lovers trope!

risky by @kusaka6e

synopsis: moving from another country to work as a pro hero in japan was not the easiest. and a certain hot headed hero only adds to your frustrations.

oneshot about the obvious grown tension between you and pro hero dynamite.

i hope you find something you like! sorry for the late rec, have a lovely day/night!

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yuri-is-online · 9 months

Note

Hi! Congratulations on getting more followers! You totally deserve it:)

Can I ask for prompt 5 with Floyd, Idia and Leona?

Thank you<3

5. Jealousy pt.1- seeing their partner wearing someone else's jacket

（＾ワ＾） thank you annon, your words mean a lot. Of course you can! how did i know Floyd was gonna get this prompt

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, miscommunication and jealousy but everything ends happy. Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Floyd

Floyd unceremoniously dumps you off his in a secluded corner of the gymnasium hallway. “Shrimpy…" he whines, yanking on the hem of the used gym shirt you are wearing as he uses his other arm to cage you against the wall "where did you get that shirt?” “From the laundry basket in your room this morning?” He had stolen your blazer a few days ago to as a joke so you had impulsively decided to pay him back by snatching something of his. He's always whining about wanting you to wear is clothes anyway, why is he so upset? “It’s yours isn’t it?” “Nah.” Floyd's lips purse in displeasure. “Nah, that's Jade’s not mine. If ya look, he has his name written in stupid little letters on the tag.” Oh. OH. Well, now you just feel stupid and fix your eyes firmly on his shoes. How could you be so stupid? Of course, some of Jade's clothes would be in the room's ONE laundry basket. Hell, you aren't actually sure Floyd uses the hamper now that you think about it. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the teasing as you look up prepared to apologize, only to completely lose your train of thought at the sight of Floyd yanking his jersey over his head. “FLOYD!”

“Huh? What’s wrong lil shrimpy?" A very sharp grin emerges from the cloth, though he doesn't bother to take his arms out of the shirt just yet. "I'm on the bench aaaaaaaany way ‘s not like I need it.” “You’ll be cold!” It's the wrong argument to make when he practically has you pinned to the wall. “No I won’t,” he giggles, good mood blown back to life by the flames of your embarrassment “and if you’re that worried just stay here and squeeze me.”

Idia

"You're seriously too unaware for your own good." Idia mutters, wrapping himself further into Jack's jacket as you try to hide yourself in his hoodie. The outline of his hair flickers a gentle pink as the two of you try your best to avoid looking at each other.

"He was just worried about me being cold because I wouldn't stop sneezing during class." Idia's sweatshirt smells surprisingly nice, and once you get the courage to look up at your boyfriend he doesn't look bad in the regular uniform jacket either. Though you have to admit, he is at his cutest when he is comfortable and he definitely is not right now.

"We aren't in the same classes so I miss out on time limited quests like that, huh." He mutters, reaching up to fidget with his headphones while you wonder if touching him would spook him too much. "It's almost like everyone forgets we're together."

"I'd never let them do that!" You decide to risk it, wrapping your arms around Idia's torso in a loose embrace he can escape if he needs to. It forces him to really look you over, taking in the full sight of you in his hoodie and a deep, deep breath.

It makes his hair explode into a beautiful hot pink display.

"On second thought take it off." He squeaks, jumping back from your hug and burying his face in his hands.

"Idia-"

"Quick, I can't handle this much agrro!"

Leona

There is an angel at rest in the furthest corner of the NRC library. Their head is firmly smashed against a text book, leaving a clear dent in their cheek that is threatening to turn into a series of paper cuts. Anyone would look at them and be drawn in...

Which was precisely the problem. Someone had forgotten they had a much more comfortable place to nap and a much more comfortable partner than a stack of old books, and hadn't gone looking for him, forcing Leona to do some work for once. And good thing he decided to go on patrol too, some small brained herbivore had decided to try and push in on his territory. As if sensing his presence, you stir in your sleep slightly and Leona suppresses a smile. Barely.

"Oy." Leona bats the offending jacket off from around your shoulders, resisting the urge to turn it to sand, reminding himself that would be petty and beneath him.

Exactly where that jacket was right now.

"Leona?" You murmur sleepily, trying to resist the temptation to rub your eyes. His heart clenches painfully in denial of how cute you are.

"What are you some sort of cub? Making me come looking for you like this." His insults make you smile for some reason as you reach to shove your books back into your bag blissfully unaware of the jealousy storming behind them.

"Let's go take a nap," you hum, well aware those are some of Leona's favorite words "I had a really nice dream about you, wanna actually wake up in your arms next time." Well now, Leona certainly isn't going to argue with that.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #idia shroud x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #300 followers celebration #i attempted to draw a bunny this time #thank you very much!

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ayyy-pee · 1 year

Text

Discord 18+ - Twitter - JJK Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Female Reader

Summary: Every choice Satoru makes just seems to be digging himself into a deeper hole. But when it comes to you, he can’t seem to help himself.

Story Warning: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Toxic Behavior, Cheating, Protected Sex (wrap it up kids), Jealousy, Obsessive Behavior, Exes to Lovers (for a lil bit), Gojo is sprung on reader real bad, Dumb Stupid Idiot Satoru, Downbad Satoru

Gojo art by: Ilameys (used with permission)

Available to read on Ao3!

AN: Gojo has been eating my brain so I had to get something out. I've been obsessively listening to LIMBO by keshi and had it on repeat writing this (listen to it if you haven't!) Anyway, enjoy!

“Satoruuuuu,” an aggravating, whiny voice slurs. “Can you get me another drink pleaseeeee?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

Satoru rises from his seat on the couch, running his fingers through his silky white hair. He leaves his girlfriend to chat with her friends as he makes his way to the kitchen for yet another drink. Really, he should cut her off and take her home. She’s insufferable when she gets a drop of liquor in her, not that she’s any less annoying when she’s sober. All the whining, all the clinginess, all the slurring of his name as she wraps herself all around him. It used to be cute when they first started dating a year ago. Now it’s just suffocating. But Satoru sucks it up, though he’s not entirely sure why. Maybe because when she drinks, he doesn’t have to deal with actually trying to have a conversation with her. She’s a bit more tolerable after a few drinks. Annoying still, but less so.

He maneuvers through the crowd of the house party he’s currently attending. It’s packed, the scent of alcohol heavy in the air. Leave it to Suguru to go all out when he’s back in town. The guy invited practically everyone from their time in high school. Since arriving, Satoru’s already run into Mei Mei, Ino, Utahime (unfortunately) and surprisingly Nanami. There’s even students from the Ainu Technical School here. He had no idea Suguru even knew them.

Regardless, Satoru is happy to see everyone. He stops every so often to chat with old classmates as he wanders towards the kitchen. Everyone seems to be doing well for themselves since graduating high school, which Satoru is glad for. No matter how life went, he always wished everyone well.

And life was good for Satoru, too. At 26 years old, he certainly couldn’t complain about much. He’d graduated from high school, gone to college, had a hell of a great time during his undergrad career, got himself a well paying cushy sales job. And he had a girlfriend that he…had been with for awhile. Life couldn’t be better for him.

So why did it always feel like something was missing?

Satoru enters the enormous kitchen and makes a beeline to the assortment of drinks lined along the built-in bar. Of course Suguru has a built-in bar in his kitchen with an array of pre-made cocktails to choose from. Always such a great host when he’s not traveling to clean up celebrity messes for his PR firm.

“Satoru!” A man’s voice sings behind him as an arm slings across his shoulders.

“Haibara,” Satoru greets him. “Back for another drink?”

Satoru grabs one of the plastic party cups from the counter and pours one of the cocktails into it; something fruity and syrupy. He might’ve given it a try if the overwhelming smell of tequila didn’t burn his nostrils. He thinks of his girlfriend, knowing she will definitely feel like shit by the end of the night.

“Hm?” Haibara shakes his head, his raven hair whipping with the movement. “No way. One is enough for me. I have early practice tomorrow. Coach says my swing needs work, so not willing to fuck that up.” Ah right. Satoru had totally forgotten that Haibara played tennis professionally now. He nods, listening to his friend fill him in on what his plans for tomorrow are. Haibara’s wide brown eyes follow Satoru’s movements as he fills his cup. “You, though? I never see you drink at these things?”

Satoru shakes his head. “Not for me. For my girlfriend.”

Haibara’s signature, open-mouthed grin spreads wide across his face. “Oh! You’re still dating her? Wow. Good for you, man.”

Something about the surprise in Haibara’s tone takes Satoru aback, brows knitting at this. “Why’d you say it like that?”

Haibara crosses his arms, his smile melting away with a sigh. “I mean…” Haibara sighs your name quietly. “The two of you were together for a long time before you broke up after high school. We all thought you’d still be together, but if you could end that relationship, I’m just a little surprised you’re still with this one. That’s all. But if you’re happy...”

Just hearing your name on Haibara’s tongue has Satoru’s stomach twisting in knots. He hasn’t seen or spoken to you in years, something he’s been wanting to change for a long time but too cowardly to do so.

Satoru nods, giving Haibara a weak smile. He can admit that his girlfriend was…not the least bit interesting, annoying and did little for him. But he enjoyed her company sometimes.

“Just don’t be surprised if one of us leaves with Y/N tonight, though,” Haibara jokes, throwing his head back with an obnoxious chuckle.

What?

Satoru feels his heart leap into his throat as his crystalline eyes dart rapidly over every occupant in the kitchen, only seeing the familiar faces of his old classmates and a few strangers. There’s no sign of you. Maybe Haibara was just fucking with him.

Satoru laughs to save face, albeit awkwardly. “Funny,” he mutters, staring down into the drink meant for his current girlfriend, though now his thoughts are only occupied with you.

“Hey man, I need to get back to my girl, so I’ll catch you later,” Satoru tells his old friend.

“Yeah, later! Hey!” Haibara calls out to him and Satoru turns briefly. “Let’s get together to play some time!”

“Yeah, sure. Text me!” Satoru calls back, waving as he exits the kitchen. Unlikely, but he appreciates the effort.

Satoru shoulders through the crowd again, carefully holding onto the red cup in hand so it doesn't spill. He takes his time getting back, a new goal in mind: find you. Are you actually here? Or was Haibara just trying to mess with him? His heart pounds hard in his chest as he moves, eyes scanning every face he sees.

It’s been seven long years since Satoru last spoke to you - his first real crush, his first real girlfriend, his first time. His first everything. He wonders if you’ve thought about him at all in this time. He’d be surprised if you did. Things didn’t exactly end well between you two.

......

Seven Years Ago

You and Satoru dated all through high school. Satoru, a star athlete, played many sports and you supported him through them all, cheering for him at every game and helping him with his practice. You two were inseparable. If you weren’t at Satoru’s place, he was at yours. The love was deep between you two and a promise was made that you’d always be together.

But life didn’t always happen the way you wanted. The joy and excitement of being accepted into your dream schools did not last long when you realized you’d be going to school thousands of miles away and oceans apart. It was the first time a true test of your relationship was presented. Satoru was staying in Japan for college while you were headed overseas. Could your relationship survive the distance?

The first few months apart weren’t so bad. Satoru was making friends, excelling at school and becoming quite popular. You were also busy with your new life and hobbies. You made time for each other when you could. But it wasn’t enough. The loneliness Satoru felt without you was all consuming and it was only a matter of time before he found himself sending fewer texts, calling less, absorbed in the newness of college life.

Satoru loved you so much, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew the likelihood of a long distance relationship surviving was slim regardless of who it was. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but the trying part was becoming more burdensome than he wanted.

And it wasn’t as though you had done anything wrong. This feeling Satoru was experiencing was all on him. You made the effort to keep in touch, to call when you could. And you still wanted it to work. But if Satoru were honest, he just wanted to enjoy his time in school without the constant worry of pleasing someone who he never saw unless it was behind a screen. It was selfish of him, but he wanted to have fun. This was a new world and he wanted to be free to explore it.

So he ended things.

He’ll never forget the quiet sobs on the other end of the phone as he sat in silence after uttering the words, “I don’t think this is going to work out anymore”.

His heart ached listening to your hushed pleas for him to not do this, to not end things this way. But it was for the best. In the long run, you’d be happier. He’d be happier and what was that corny saying again?

If you love something, set it free? Satoru thinks that’s what he did that day.

And you were so upset. Rightfully so. You loved Satoru. You were each other’s first kiss, first times before you left for college, first loves. You’d quite literally given everything to each other. But Satoru couldn’t commit to you anymore. He didn’t want to. He wanted to enjoy college, live his life. It may be selfish of him, but he didn’t see it that way. It was his chance to grow.

Even after all of your pleading, he stuck to his guns. It was torture, listening to you tearfully beg him not to do this to you. He had to end this.

So he told you he’d met someone else, that he couldn’t be with you anymore because there was another woman he wanted to be with. The stretch of silence was painful, Satoru quietly waiting to see if you had anything to add. The call ended with you hanging up in his face with only a choked sob as the last thing he’d heard.

Adjusting to life without you proved difficult at first. Satoru isn’t embarrassed to admit he moped around campus for a while before he was able to start trying to move on. After that, the next few months of college were great. Satoru was Mr. Popular, quickly rising to the top of his collegiate sports team. He was the life of any party he went to, the center of attention wherever he went.

Life should’ve felt perfect.

But as the months passed, Satoru found his mind occupied with the thought of you at the worst times.

While his professor discusses marketing strategies, Satoru’s mind wanders to you.

What are you doing right now?

When he’s at practice getting berated by the coach for poor blocking form, he knows he can’t tell him it’s because he’s distracted by the thought of you.

Who are you with?

When he’s giving another girl his number at a party, planning to hook up later, he pushes back the memory of the first time he’d spoken to you.

Where are you?

When he finds himself between another girl's legs that same night, he squeezes his eyes shut, picturing you and biting his tongue as he tries his best not to moan your name.

Do you still think about him?

The months soon stretch into a year and Satoru hopes this intense yearning he has for you will just fade away. He’s not so lucky. If anything, he thinks about you more. He checks your social media profiles to find you’ve removed him as a friend on everything. Of course you did. He ripped your heart in two. There was no way you’d allow him access back into your life. Your accounts are all private, so he can’t see anything and he’s not willing to ask a mutual friend about what you’ve been up to. It only makes him a little bit crazy that you’ve put up this wall between you two so he has no access to you.

Another six months pass and Satoru works up the nerve to text you for the first time since you’d broken up. He hopes you’ll reply. It’s been more than a year. You can’t possibly still be upset, can you? He can admit that he could have handled the way he ended things better, sure. But if he can get past it, you can too, right?

You never respond.

More months pass by and soon another year. One late night, Satoru slips into his apartment after a failed hookup. He pulls his phone out, scrolling through his contacts to find your name. You didn’t reply to his last text. He doubts you’ll respond to this one, but he takes a deep breath and shoots off a message to you before he changes his mind.

Days later, you finally respond. You chat for a while, sending messages back and forth. Generic things, really. Just catching up. Until one night Satoru musters up the courage to call you.

“Hello?” You answer. There’s soft music in the background and Satoru wonders what you’re up to. Are you home? Maybe you’re relaxing and the music is on for background noise. Or maybe you’re with someone, listening to music to set the mood. There’s an unpleasant twist that forms in his stomach at the thought.

“Hey,” he says easily, though he can barely hear your voice over the rapid pounding of his heart. “I figured a phone call may be easier than just texting. What are you doing?”

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” He hears you shuffling around, then the quiet click of a door closing as the music fades out. “I’m actually at a friends for dinner.”

A friend. He wants to ask more about your friend, but he knows he has no right to that information anymore.

“Sorry to interrupt your night,” he tells you, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how tense he is. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest.

“It’s fine. I have a couple minutes to spare.” You sound relaxed. Like speaking to Satoru doesn’t have the same effect on you as it does on him. Like talking to him is just like talking to anybody else. He knows it’s his own fault it’s this way, but it still stings. “Did you need something?”

You.

That’s what Satoru wants to say. More than anything, he wants to tell you that he wants you back, that he needs you back. He wants to tell you he made a mistake breaking up with you, that he’s so sorry. He wants to ask that you’ll please forgive him.

Satoru wants to say he regrets his decision to call it quits. Wants to admit that he should have made more of an effort to make it work out and not have been so fucking weak. He wants to tell you that if you’re willing to give it another try he is, too.

That’s what he wants.

Because after everything, he still l–

“Satoru?” You repeat your question and Satoru realizes he’s let the silence hang in the air between you both for far too long.

“Oh, I jus–”

“Babe? Dinner’s ready. Do you want any wine with yours?” A deep voice cuts through the quiet and Satoru feels his heart drop hearing someone else call you by the name that was once meant for only his use. He hears soft shuffling and hushed whispers and a “sorry, I thought you were off the phone, babe. You were quiet–”

He can tell you’ve muted your phone. He can’t hear anything anymore. The looming silence makes Satoru want to hang up on you so he can swallow the bitterness he feels. So you had moved on, found someone else who gets to treat you the way Satoru should have. It’s fair. It’s been years since you two had broken up. You’d barely started speaking again. Of course you would find someone new. You were perfect and anyone would be an idiot to let you go. Much like Satoru was.

His thumb lingers over the end call button on his screen…and then you’re back just before he presses it.

“Sorry about that,” you breathe. “Anyway, did you need something, Satoru?”

“That your friend?” Satoru asks, ignoring your question completely. He can’t even pretend it’s not because he wants to know who the hell was calling you ‘babe’.

You clear your throat. “No, ah…that’s my boyfriend,” you finally tell him.

The silence falls over you again for a few seconds, Satoru trying to find his words. Again, it’s fair for you to date someone else. Satoru had ended things. He lost his right to be jealous when he did. And yet, against his better judgment, he leans into the bitterness he felt moments ago, forcing out a laugh. “Good! Oh, that’s good for you. Glad you found someone.”

“...Thanks?”

Satoru hums. “Yeah. I mean, glad we both moved on. I was actually worried when I was calling that you’d still be hung up on me or something.” He winces, but laughs awkwardly again. Knows he just shot himself in the foot. Maybe you’ll just laugh it off, take it as a bad joke.

“Yeah.” Your voice is clipped, short. “Okay, well, it was great catching up with you, Satoru. I have to go now.”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“Got it. Well, have fun at your din–”

The line goes dead.

Satoru tosses his phone to the side, throws himself back on his bed with a groan.

“Idiot.”

You don’t return any more of his calls or texts.

......

Present

Satoru’s feet carry him through the crowd, conversation drifting through the air. He can hear Utahime yelling at Suguru and Satoru resists the damn near instinctual urge to turn towards the screeching so he can join Suguru in whatever antics set her off. It’s always funny seeing how red her face gets. He also hears the sounds of Shoko’s airy laugh as she catches up with Nanami and Ijichi. An odd group, he thinks, but Satoru doesn’t have time to dwell on it because he hears the sweet sound of your laugh and–

Wait.

He stops in his tracks, the drink in his hand sloshing with the abrupt halt. He turns his head to peer over the crowd, but he doesn’t see anything, doesn’t see you. Maybe his mind is playing tricks on him. There’s no way you’d actually be here. You’re overseas. At least, he thinks you may be overseas. That’s the last thing he knew about you for certain. Satoru’s not sure what you’re up to these days. He hasn’t asked, afraid of what the answer will be. He’s not sure he could handle knowing you’re potentially engaged or happily married. Hell, he’s not sure he could handle knowing if you’re dating someone.

His piercing blue gaze finally lands on you and he realizes Haibara was actually not joking about someone potentially leaving with you tonight. Because you’re right there, off to the side of the crowd with some man, giggling at whatever he’s saying.

Satoru knows it’s you, even from a distance. He couldn’t mistake those beautiful eyes for anyone else's, the way they crinkle ever so slightly in the corners when you smile. He could never mistake those luscious, glossed lips he loved to kiss. You’re all smiles, as stunning as he remembers.

Everything keeps moving as time seems to stand still only for Satoru, his eyes never leaving you. And he knows he’s at this party with someone else. That’s what he should be focused on, but you’re all he cares about right now. His gaze locks onto your lips, following the curve of your smile, the way your tongue darts out just a bit to run along your bottom lip, the way those lips form your words.

You may still hate him after all this time, but Satoru wants to talk to you. He almost wants to get just close enough for you to notice him. Maybe you’ll make the first move and talk to him.

‘What the fuck am I doing?’ He thinks, lips pursed in concentration.

He should get back to his actual girlfriend. He’s been gone for too long. She’s bound to come looking for him if he doesn’t get back to her soon. Yeah, he’ll just go back. Talking to you won’t be good for him anyway –

The man you’re speaking to leans forward, his lips moving to your ear and Satoru, with his eyes still glued to your lips, feels his blood boil as he watches them part with what he’s pretty sure is a sigh. When he sees your hand come up to lay on the other man’s arm, his nostrils flare with irritation. When you smirk at what the man is whispering, he feels his jaw tighten. And when the other man’s hand comes to land on your waist, Satoru’s feet move before he even realizes what he’s doing.

As he approaches, the man steps away, a slick grin on his face and you roll your eyes, shaking your head and giggling. Are you actually flirting with this guy? It’s only as he gets closer that Satoru can better make out who it is; poorly done bleach job, shitty eyeliner around his eyes, and too many ear piercings. It’s just Naoya Zenin. From what Satoru remembers, you hated that fucker all of high school.

Unless something’s changed and suddenly you’re into him? Is this who you’re dating now?

Satoru wants to be pissed, but this may work in his favor. If you could be on good terms with Naoya, who you absolutely despised for as long as you’d known him, then maybe you had room in your heart to forgive him for being such a piece of shit to you all those years ago.

Your eyes drift over to Satoru as he approaches you both. And you hardly react, only offering him a small smile before your attention drifts back to Naoya. And though a tiny curve of your lips is something, the lack of a reaction kind of annoys the shit out of him.

“Hey,” Satoru greets, mainly directed towards you because fuck Naoya.

“Hi, Satoru.” You fold your arms over your chest, eyes coming back to meet his. God, you’re as pretty as Satoru remembers you being. This close to you, Satoru can see how much you’ve changed. And time has been very good to you. You’re still beautiful in the youthful way Satoru remembers, but you’re grown now. His eyes trail down your frame quickly, drinking in the way you’ve filled out.

“Gojo…” Naoya says with clear disdain in his voice.

“Zenin.”

And it’s quiet now. Awkward. But it doesn’t matter to Satoru. His eyes are only on you.

You pull your gaze away from Satoru and back to Naoya.

“You look great,” Satoru tells you, sipping the drink meant for his girlfriend to keep himself from potentially following up with something stupid. He grimaces slightly at the taste before trying to cover it with a lopsided grin.

And you give him the same grin back, a little shy. It’s cute.

“Thanks, Satoru. You look good, too.”

“I didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Yeah, I’ve been back for a few months now. Just settling back in and working,” your brows knit together as you lean to the side to glance around Satoru. “I’m surprised Suguru didn’t tell you since I just had lunch with him like two days ago.”

He realizes you must be looking for Suguru when you straighten your stance again. Deep in his mind, Satoru makes a mental note to have a word with Suguru about this later. Next to him, Naoya snorts and Satoru has to resist saying something that will surely end with them in a fight. You must sense the tension because you ask Naoya if he can grab you a drink which prompts an eye roll from him, but he goes anyway.

“Doubt he’ll be back,” you mutter to Satoru with a smirk. “That asshole wants to hook up so bad it’s pathetic,” a soft chuckle rushes past your lips.

“Not interested, then?” Satoru jokes, a smile spread across his face.

You narrow your eyes, “Ha ha. You know I hate that guy. He won’t be back anyway. No way he’s gonna waste time getting a drink for someone who isn’t fucking him at the end of the night.”

If you weren’t still watching Naoya push his way through the crowd of partygoers, you may have seen Satoru visibly deflate.

“Ah, good to know you haven’t lowered your standards,” Satoru says and you laugh. The sound makes Satoru’s head spin. It’s been so long since he’s heard it.

“I don’t think my standards could ever be low enough to fuck Naoya,” you clarify, nose crinkling in disgust. Satoru chuckles at your reaction, watching as you shift uncomfortably before him. You fidget with the hem of your dress before you speak again.

“It’s actually really good to see you, Satoru.”

“Is it really?”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to reach out for a while. Life just got away from me.”

Satoru’s brows lift in surprise. “Reach out for what?” Your eyes are boring into his, wide and surveying, peering into his soul. Just the way they always did.

“I just felt like things left off on such a sour note with us. And you reached out trying to build a friendship and at the first sign of things getting weird, I just…ran. Didn’t look back. You were trying and I wasn’t. You didn’t deserve that.”

He knows you’re referring to the last time you’d spoken, though he’s not sure why you’re the one trying to apologize.

“And I just wanted to say I’m sorry for being a terrible friend to you.”

You always were way too sweet to him. He didn’t deserve that.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Satoru shakes his head. “I was still jealous back then. When I said I was worried you were still hung up on me, it’s because I was trying to cover up the fact that I was still hung up on you. Hearing your boyfriend call you babe–”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you interrupt, a soft smile gracing your features. Satoru smirks.

“Hearing your ex-boyfriend call you babe, it just…made me feel a lot of things I didn’t understand at the time. I shouldn’t have said what I did to set you off. I’m sorry.”

It’s only been a few minutes of you talking and it already feels like a weight has been lifted, like the wall you put up all those years ago has come down. You both must look strange, just standing off in the corner alone staring and smiling at each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

You talk a bit more, catch up on life. It doesn’t take long for things to feel comfortable between you two again - for your bodies to move a little closer, for your eyes to meet more often, for your shy touches to linger a little longer.

You’ve got your hand wrapped around Satoru’s forearm, snickering at something he’s said. And when you glance up at him, there’s something in your eyes telling him it’s okay to ask this. Because Satoru is happy to know you’re not interested in Naoya, even happier to know you’ve broken up with your college boyfriend, but what he wants to know now is –

“Are you seeing anyone? Dating, I mean,” He asks while he still has the nerve and tries not to let his eyes fall to your mouth when you shake your head and draw your lower lip between your teeth.

“Nope, single and just enjoying life honestly. You?”

Yes.

“Me?” Satoru asks.

Say yes, stupid.

You nod. “Yeah, you. Are you with someone?”

Yes. Yes.

“Uhh, well…”

YES.

The voice in his head is screaming the answer, the one he knows he should give you. The one that would confirm to Satoru that even after everything he’s done, he’s not a shitty person, not a terrible boyfriend. But when he looks at you, eyes shining up at him with those pretty lips curled into a smirk, he doesn’t want anything more than to be with you.

God, he’s such a piece of shit. He knows it. He’s not even thinking about his girlfriend still sitting around waiting for him to come back. He’s got tunnel vision and the only thing he sees is you.

Say yes!

“I…am not…with someone.”

......

The door to Suguru’s master bathroom slams shut, your back pressed against it as Satoru’s lips find your neck, licking a long strip from your collarbone up to your chin.

“Ah- Toru, the door. Lock the door,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his soft tresses to pull him down for a kiss. His fingers fumble around before he finds the lock, quickly turning before he breaks the kiss to focus on your neck again, kissing and sucking, marking anywhere he can. Your hands move to glide underneath his shirt, fingers grazing over his defined muscles and you sigh just as Satoru moves away from your neck to press his lips against yours.

Soft. So soft. It’s been so long since Satoru’s had you like this. He’d forgotten your taste, your smell and right now, it feels like he can’t get enough. Fuck the liquor, he’s drunk on you.

“Can I touch you?” Satoru breathes against your mouth. And you nod, kissing him again. He groans as your lips part, tongue slipping out to glide against his lips, seeking entry. And he obliges, gives you all the access you want as your tongues tangle together. You moan into his mouth, the sound shooting straight to his cock.

The dress you’re wearing is nice, simple but fits your body beautifully. Satoru can’t wait to get underneath it. He reaches down, pulling the hem of your dress up until it’s sitting at your waist. He slips his hand into your panties, hissing when he feels how soaked you are.

“So wet for me,” Satoru whispers into the kiss. “You want me that bad, baby?”

You nod, panting hard. “Yeah, so bad, Satoru,” you moan when his fingers glide through your slick fold, back arching off the door. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“I’m yours, baby.”

His lips crash into yours again, fingers working tight circles against your clit. You cry out, your hands balling into fists as you cling to Satoru’s shirt. He breaks the kiss, pressing his face into your neck as one of his fingers finds your entrance, plunging in slowly. Your mouth opens with a gasp as Satoru pumps into you, curling his finger until he finds your sweet spot.

He pulls back, watches your face as he slips another finger inside. He likes the way your legs shake when he turns his fingers a certain way. And the way your back arches off the door when he presses his thumb to your clit. It’s all new to him, these reactions you’re giving. You were a lot younger when you’d first become intimate. Now, it’s clear you’re much more experienced. The thought bothers and excites Satoru.

He pulls his fingers from your core, kissing you when you poke your lip out in a pout. And then he’s bending you over the bathroom sink, pushing your dress even higher before he slips his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.

“Fuck, I never thought I’d see you like this again,” he groans, palming himself through his pants.

“Toru, stop wasting time and fuck me, please.”

You’re a lot more demanding now too, apparently. He doesn’t mind.

“Did you miss me?” Satoru asks, because he’s dying to know. Did you think about him when you were with your boyfriend? Were you trying not to cry out Satoru’s name when you fucked him? Did you want him back as much as he wanted you?

Satoru unbuttons his jeans, pulls his pants and boxers down together, hissing as his cock springs free. He’s so fucking hard, he could cum just looking at you bent over the sink like this. But Satoru wants to savor you, wants to enjoy this moment of having you again for the first time in so long. He reaches over and pulls open one of the bathroom drawers, fishing around until he finds a condom and he mentally thanks Suguru for always being prepared.

“Tell me,” he demands, wrapping a hand around his length. He strokes himself lazily as he rips the condom open. He rolls the condom down his length, lining himself up with your entrance. “Did you miss me?”

You’re so patient, waiting quietly for Satoru. Although, he can hear your breathing becoming a little harsher in anticipation. Satoru moves behind you, lines himself up with your entrance and just before he’s about to roll his hips forward, he glances up to see his reflection in the mirror with you bent over and ready for him.

“Look at me,” he says. You look up, watching him through the reflection. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Satoru can see your pupils blown wide with lust matching his own. He wants to see you, wants to see your face when you take him for the first time in so long.

“Look at me,” he tells you again.

“Okay,” you breathe.

“Tell me you missed me,” Satoru quietly demands as he pushes forward, sliding the tip through your folds and sinking in slowly.

“Fuuuuuuck,” your mouth falls slack with a moan. Satoru’s hands find your waist, holding your curves as he sinks into you. “I missed you, Toru. So much, so fucking much.”

“God, baby, you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to hear you say that.”

He’s halfway in and he has to stop to catch his breath because hearing you moan his name like that…He may not make it all the way in without blowing his load right into the condom. You’re suffocating him, clenching onto his cock so hard he’s almost afraid to move.

“Satoru, please. Don’t stop,” you plead. He meets your gaze in the mirror again, sees the way your eyes burn with desire. Satoru pulls his hips back until only his tip sits inside you and then he rolls his hips forward, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he can.

Your walls clench down on his cock and he moans again before he starts to move, pounding into you at an unrelenting pace. You cry out his name and he keeps moving, not letting up.

Satoru brings a hand around your neck, holding your head in place so he can look at you through the mirror. He sinks into you, bending down to kiss along your neck, your shoulders, your back as he bottoms out again and again, moaning his pleasure against you.

Satoru thinks you feel like heaven. It’s the only thing he can think when he leans back and grips on to your waist again, watching your face contort in ecstasy. Every little sound you make, every moan, every sigh, every “right there” you utter brings Satoru closer and closer to his release.

Satoru has missed you. He’s missed the way your skin feels against his, missed the way your breath hitches in your throat when his cock hits just the right spot, missed touching and grabbing the soft curves of your beautiful body. Missed how your ass bounces with each thrust, cheeks spreading just enough to give him a glimpse of that tight little hole he’s never gotten the chance to have. And god, he hopes no one else has either.

More than anything though, he’s missed the way you take all of him, hug him tight like you never want to let him go. Fuck, he could live inside you and never get tired of it. The thought alone, the thought of having you all to himself again has him leaning forward, moaning into the space between your shoulders as he rocks his hips against you. The loud smacking noises of Satoru’s groin meeting your ass echo throughout the bathroom, and he doesn’t care who hears.

“Fuuuck, how are you so fucking tight, still?” Satoru groans, reminiscing on the first time he’d ever had you. An out of body experience for him, personally. Truly unforgettable.

“I’m never letting you go again,” he grunts, feeling your walls begin to flutter around him.

“Toru, I’m close,” you whimper. “So close, Toru, don’t stop.”

“Cum for me baby,” Satoru groans, hand sliding down your side to find your center again. He rubs tight circles on your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he feels your pussy squeeze down on him as you cry out his name, your release crashing over you.

It’s so tight, so fucking tight Satoru thinks he might pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t fucking see straight, you’re gripping him so hard.

“Ah- fuck, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum. Baby, I’m gonna cum,” he grits out as he pushes his cock all the way inside you, thrusting as deep as he can go as hot spurts of cum fill the condom. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your back as you both catch your breath.

Satoru meant what he said. He never wants to let you go. He has every intention of being with you. After you’ve both come down from your highs and cleaned up, Satoru kisses you gently. He watches as you turn back to the mirror. You’re even more beautiful as you tame your messy hair, fix your makeup and adjust your dress.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” He asks, ready to make up for years worth of lost time.

Your eyes meet in the mirror, your lips tilting with a small smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

......

Fingers laced, you and Satoru weave through the party together. The crowd seems to have thinned out now with how late it’s getting. It’s the perfect time to get out of here with you, take you home and –

“Satoru! There you are!” A familiar voice squeals. The sound makes Satoru quickly yank his hand from your grip. You stop in your tracks, brows furrowing as you look up at him.

“What’s the matter?” You ask just as this person you don’t know bounds up to him and wraps her arms around Satoru’s neck, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek before she lets go.

And Satoru isn’t sure how he hasn’t noticed this before. It seems like some sick twist of fate that it’s only now that you’re standing next to each other that he sees how eerily similar you and his girlfriend look. It makes his stomach churn.

But his girlfriend, so drunk and so sweet, turns to you and beams as she holds out her hand to you. “Hi! I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Satoru’s girlfriend…” His stomach nearly drops into his ass. “...you are?”

God, he wishes he could teleport out of here. Or that the ground would open wide and swallow him whole, bury him 8,000 meters beneath the earth. Anything to avoid being present at this moment. He peers down at you briefly, your hand extending to shake his girlfriends for only a second. And Satoru thinks he may be imagining it, the sheer anger he can feel radiating off of your body, even as you return his girlfriend’s sweet smile.

“Satoru’s girlfriend?” You ask and he knows you’re making sure you aren’t hearing things. Because not too long ago, he told you he wasn’t tied down to anyone. “I wasn’t aware he was dating anyone.”

“Yep! Been together almost a year now,” she brags cheerily. Satoru really wishes she’d shut up for once in her damn life.

You breathe out a bitter laugh, gazing up at Satoru and he knows he’s not imagining the rage. He can see it swimming in your eyes even as you reach up, your thumb gently swiping the corner of his mouth where apparently remnants of your lip gloss remained. You hold your finger up to show him and then hold it up to show his girlfriend who five seconds ago was too drunk to notice. She seems to have sobered up quickly now, eyes focused on the lip gloss you just wiped from Satoru’s face.

You introduce yourself to her, wiping your thumb off on your dress before continuing, “And I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m the girl who just fucked your lying boyfriend in the bathroom.”

Satoru watches in ill disguised horror as you crane your next to the side, gesturing to the marks he so stupidly made along your neck in the heat of passion. His eyes find his girlfriend who stands there, mouth agape.

“Satoru told me he wasn’t seeing anyone. If I had known it wouldn’t have happened. And believe me, it won’t ever happen again.” You turn to face Satoru one last time, gritting out, “I can’t fucking believe you. After all these years, you’re still such a piece of shit, Satoru.”

You don’t wait for a response from him, turning on your heel and storming through the crowd. Satoru watches as your back retreats, not sure what the hell he’d say even if he did catch up to you. How could he explain that he lied about his girlfriend because he wanted to spend more time with you? It’s not like he planned on fucking in the bathroom, it just happened. But there was no way you were going to give him a second of your time to try and explain.

There was no coming back from this.

When he finally loses sight of you in the crowd, Satoru reluctantly brings his gaze back down to his probably soon to be ex-girlfriend and is met with a fury similar to yours. Again, the similarities are uncanny. All the love and happiness once shining in her eyes is nowhere to be found as one question hangs in the air between them.

“Satoru, what the fuck is she talking about?”

AN: OOF, let me know what you think!

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tan1shere · 5 months

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Slumber Party

Ellie williams x fem reader!

A/n: Hello my lovelies, first post on here (more active on wattpad) but thought I'd occasionally post here when I'm bored. If you have any requests at all they're definitely open! Also this is kinda short but I don't plan on making the next part as short. Enjoyyyy ☆°•

My masterlist

Summary: like the song slumber party. Ellie thinks she can treat you better then your shitty girlfriend

Warnings: smut, (not in this chapter) read at your own risk (mdni) Dom but soft, protective, ellie! Reader is quite innocent, is very soft also. Cunnilingus (duh- also not in this chapter) your girlfriend in this is an asshole. Abuse, somewhat angst, crying. Lmk if there was anything else!

Pt 2 here! ~ pt 3 here!

Ellie hated Isabel, your girlfriend. She treated you horribly, and Ellie really hated when you'd bawl your eyes out over the phone to her whenever Isabel would storm out of your shared apartment. She hated the fact anyone would make you cry. She never liked seeing you unhappy. Isabel shared this hatred. She never liked you hanging around Ellie, even if you have known Ellie almost all your life. She would scold you after everytime you and her would hang out. You'd come back to the apartment smiling. "What're you smiling about?" You just smile more happy to tell. "Ellie she makes the funniest jo-" "I don't like you being round her Y/n." You would always stare blankly at her, struggling to find the words, leaving your mouth open while you ponder.

Today was not off to a great start. Ellie had just been over, you two were having such a great time. "I should probably get going squirt." She would flash her smile at you, ruffling your hair slightly, as she stood to go to the door. Ellie was a bit older then you, and come to think of it so was Isabel. Let's just say you had a thing for older ladies. (Only by like 6 years) You also stand up, seeing her out and saying goodbye. But as you open the door you're met woth those dark brown eyes. Isabel had just arrived back from work. She glares at the auburn haired girl, making her way inside. "Well hi to you too." Ellie scoffs then looks at you. "Text you when im home." You give her a small nod and a smile before she leaves to her car. You turn around to be faced with a stern Isabel. "You know how I feel about her being in our home. Especially when I'm not here." You never really talk back to Isabel you always apologize and go into the kitchen to make food. She was truly a bitch and she started showing her true colors the moment you two moved in together. You never understood what you would do so wrong. You made every dinner. Every lil food she'd want. The laundry. Just to please her. And although it'd work, it'd never last. "I'm sorry Iz.. She just really wanted to show me this art she was working on and in person. Nothing more I swear." She let's out a scoff. "Why should I believe you it's almost every day you spend with her. It's sickening and pathetic." You stare at her as she says that. She would always make you feel stupid. When in fact you were quite smart you knew what most things meant. Maybe not so much bedroom stuff. But you were book smart nonetheless. Speaking of bedroom. You were basically a virgin. You've kissed Isabel many times done a lil something here and there but it was definitely not much. So you were certainly not confident on that subject. Although Ellie would tell you all sorts of stories about the girls she's been with. It fascinated you to learn all these new terms and what everything was. "I promise to talk to you before hand next time-" She instantly cuts you off. "Why are you still standing here. Cook, I've been working all day." She spits going to your guys shared bedroom. You sigh doing so. And that was your life.

It was maybe a couple weeks after, you had felt like you were coming down with something so you decided that bed rest was the best thing. It was now 3 in the afternoon. You were sleeping in your bed when the door busted open. "What the fuck are you still doing in bed it's almost 4!" Isabel was home and not happy. You sit up a bit. "Yes I know I'm sorry bu-" She drops her bags. "This place is a mess, there's dishes out. Foods not even ready. Laundry is still in the hamper. What fucking else." You look at her softening your look. "Iz, I'm sorry- I woke up feeling horrid so I decided to stay in bed." She shakes her head. "Even when I have the worst headache known to man I still get my ass up and work. You know all that sweet money, I work for that. And you work here that is your job." This was one of the moments were you'd feel bad for yourself. Weak. Weaker right now considering you're sick. You look down at the sheets. "Are you even listening to me? You spoiled brat." She doesn't do what she does next often but when she does you know you're in the shit. She hits you. Hard. "Wonder why I have a headache all the time. It's you and your whiney voice. Look at how pathetic you are." She glares down at your drowsy figure. You feel tears finally sting as you had held them in. Refusing to let yourself be so weak, but you give in. Feeling overwhelmed with emotions right now. "What the fuck are you gunna be like when I go away in a few weeks huh? You better keep this place spotless you know about the cameras. I'll be watching you." Yes. The oh so lovely cameras. They're only in the kitchen, living room and laundry. The only places you slave away at. "I will iz I promise." She hums. "I'll believe it when i see it. I needa go out and grab some stuff. Make sure dinners ready when I get back." She says before getting her keys and leaving. You then sob. Letting it all out as you shakily grab your phone going to the only person who knows how to comfort you. Ellie.

When she arrives not long after, giving a honk. You go outside and get in the passenger seat. "Off anywhere?" You shake your head. "No that's alright. I don't want to get yelled at.." Ellie sighs. "Bub, you can't keep letting her treat you like this-" "if I left I'd have nowhere to go Els.." She keeps looking at you. "Yes you do. Mine." You let out a small breath looking down at your hands. "Everythings so messy." She nods, even if you can't see. "I know angel but my offer still and will forever stand. I think you should take it." You just wipe the small tears forming at your eyes. "How was your day?" She hates how you change the subject. She always has. She wants to talk about it with you more. Comfort you more. "Pretty easy going. Do you want a hug love?" You shake your head. "Its best if you don't come near me right now-" "I promise it's not gunna affect me if you cry. You know that." You nod. "I know, but I'm sick- thats why she yelled at me.." She furrows her brows. "She got mad at you because you weren't feeling well? What a fucking bitch." You sigh, in the midst of a slight cough. "Angel you should go back in and rest. Let me help-" You immediately shake your head. "She'd know you were there. I- I couldn't risk that." You always felt awful. Not because you got yelled at but because she would want to pick a fight with Ellie too. Ellie was older then Iz too, more mature. Never bought into her crap. "I'll make sure she doesn't yell at you, you really need rest you work your ass off-" You stop her talking. "I don't want her to try anything with you Els." She shakes her head. "She won't. I promise just let me make you some soup and tuck you in. Please, just that." You contemplate whether or not you should but you nod regardless.

She was making the soup trying to be as speedy in hopes she wouldn't bump into Isabel. "Here you go. Say you made it for yourself. I also cleaned a lil." She sends you a wink. And when she says a lil she means the whole lot. "Els, you seriously didn't have to." She smiles gently. "No but I wanted to. I also made something else. Knowing grump would be hungry when she gets back." You look at her so thankful. "You have no idea how much I appreciate you." She gives you a kiss on the head. "Call if you need anything else. I love you." She says while looking in your eyes. "I love you too Els." You respond sweetly. Oh how stupid you were to realize how INlove she was with you. But she plans to show you sooner or later. As she's the one you should truly, be with.

#elliewilliams #ellie williams the last of us smut #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams series

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coolaboutlucy · 3 months

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𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙚 | 𝙚. 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨

pairing: nepo baby!business owner!ellie williams x afab!business owner!reader

tags: smut, fingering (r receiving), pet names/name calling?? (dirty girl, pretty, good girl, baby), slight praise??, god why is tagging so hard, mild language, unethical business practices??, thoughts are green, ellie lowk an asshole, but both reader and ellie are pretty harsh to eachother, maybe that’s it, bare with me if i forget something pls. 😭🙏

a/n: i wrote this directly on tumblr bc i did NAWT feel like pulling up google docs today saur the format might be a lil off. i was watching this show on netflix called ‘locked up’, and like an episode from season two is what inspired this!!! 😜 the show is good honestly it just drags on sometimes!!! ive actually never actually written smut any times before this (believe it or not hehe) anyways, let’s get into it!!!

P.S - DEDICATED TO @sweetysaccharine YAWP YAWP!!!! <333 HOPE U ENJOY POOKIEEEE

P.P.S - don’t look at the typos or i will find you (IM JOKING)

rumors traveled fast, and sometimes it wasn’t always good. for one, they could be infuriating. a company you’d been toe to toe with for.. quite some time had gotten a new ceo. some young girl. articles appeared online about some kinda nepotism scandal. the photo on the top of the article displayed a photo of the previous ceo — joel miller, and the new owner, ellie. they looked happy. but why were they accused of something as harmful as nepotism? long story short, joel turned his brother down for the position (even though he was the better option) so ellie could have it. favoritism of sorts. but god was she infuriating! her stupid, flashy displays of wealth (that probably didn’t even belong to her) made you so mad! and also, her arrogance and her constant need to compete with you was very infuriating aswell. you had influence, she had money. wouldn’t these things be considered as a double kill in some perfect world? yes. would you ever even consider working with someone like her? absolutely not. you couldn’t even stand being in the same vicinity as her whenever you two ended up at the same social events.

imagine that terrible, ugly feeling of anger that coursed hot through your veins once finding out she’d brought possibly one of the biggest clients you could’ve ever had. it was one thing for her to shove it in your face that she was wealthy but this? she’d completely overstepped. storming your way through the companies large building, you find yourself at her offices door knocking like a madwoman. “open the goddamn door, williams!” you yell as you attempt to open the door on your own. she doesn’t say anything, but you’re just almost certain she’s smirking or something. she opens the door with this.. look. it was weird. a perfect mixture of condescending, arrogance, and ‘i know what i did and i don’t regret it’. “are you insane?” “mm.. yeah. i guess so.” you laugh, dumbfounded by her. “how bout you come into my office for a seat and a drink?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “let’s handle this civilly, shall we? knowing you, i have the feeling that this could get real ugly.” she pushed open the door with that same condescending/arrogant smile. of course, reluctantly, you walk inside. maybe this could be resolved civilly.

the sound of some smooth music played. it sounded like micheal buble or something. she walks around her desk to pour you a glass of bourbon. she hands it to and you just hold it. “it’s not poisoned, see?” she says before taking a sip. you take a sip and of it before putting the glass on her desk. “so, i realized that.. i have something you want.” the something being that client. “why else would i be here? that was a really petty move and you know that.” she chuckled. “yknow, i could just.. refer them back to you.” initially, you’re in disbelief. ellie? being generous? no way. she must’ve completely lost it. “but! it comes with a price.” of course it does. nothing was free, not in this economy. you kept your expectations low for this very reason. you raise an eyebrow at her. “we could work together. become business partners.”

she turns her music up a little. she dances her way over to you, circling you a bit. “no chance, ellie. how could i ever work with someone like you?” she chuckled again. “why wouldn’t you work with ‘someone like me’? you have something that i want aswell.” “what?” “power. influence. however you may wanna word it. i admire that.” it had to be some sick joke. why would she wanna work with you? “shouldn’t all your daddys money be more than enough to keep you in a position of power?” you quarry, then crossing your arms. a part of you didn’t believe that she’d been the one asking you for help.

“just think about it. me, giving you money. you, drawing power hungry clients in with that pretty face of yours. we’d work together like yin and yang.” she proposed before taking another sip of the drink in her glass. that was her giving a go at an analogy. was it good? she didn’t know. did she care? not at all. “you bullshitting me, williams?” “not at all. all you gotta do.. is say ‘yes’. cmon.” she offers her hand, those pretty slender fingers and that tattoo that peeking from underneath that black button up shirt were just so.. enticing. you were in your head, just thinking. was this a good idea? could i trust her? she probably has bad intentions. but she was so tempting. this had to be one of the seven deadly sins or something.

she snaps infront of your face. “where’d you go?” she asks. “nowhere.” you respond quickly. “so, you taking the offer or not? or.. will i have to convince you?” she takes a step closer to you. temptation taints your brain.

you’re not in control of your thoughts anymore. ellie was.

her hand seeks solace on your waist. “shouldn’t finding business like this be considered illegal?” you whisper to her. “im not a law abiding woman. and quite frankly, i don’t give two shits.” maybe it wouldn’t be illegal if nobody knew. but all you thought about was her. how she smells. how she’s looking at you. how her hands feel on your body. you can’t stop yourself. your lips crash down onto hers. your fingers tangle in her auburn hair as the both of you kiss passionately. she brings you to her desk, knocking stuff over as she sat you on her desk.

glass shattered, pictures were knocked out of their frames, and her computer mouse was.. somewhere. your back arches into her touch as you let out a soft moan into her mouth. she takes the opportunity to slide her tongue into your mouth. in the competition of dominance between your tongues, she reigns supreme. her hands slide up your body and end up on your oxford button up shirt. she doesn’t unbutton it, she rips that shit open. “i’ll get you a new one.” she mumbled as the buttons from the shirt scatter across the room.

“you’d better. or else id have to come back here and get it by force.” “oh please, you’ll be back here for more reasons than a goddamn shirt.” she said as she peppers kisses down to your jawline, then your neck. “don’t leave any marks.” “but why?” “oh, i dunno, cause i don’t want anyone asking me who i had sex with?” “who gives a shit? your workers get paid to look the other way, don’t they?”

well, she makes a good point. and you can’t argue with a point as valid as that. she sinks her teeth into a sweet spot of your neck, making you moan out as she runs her tongue along the new mark. she sticks her tongue out again to run it all the way down to one of your boobs. the sensation makes you shiver. “wore this pretty bra for me, didntcha? you were just expecting this. you must’ve wanted me to touch you like this, didn’t you? dirty girl. must’ve been waiting for me to bend you over this table.” she rambled all while stripping you of your bra, then leaving soft kisses and licks across the valley of your breasts.

she takes her time, making you wait for it. she knew what she was doing to you, and she was going to make you wait. “ellie, you’re going soo slow! you know what i want.” you whine as she leaves kisses and bites all over your exposed skin. “tell me what you want or you’ll get nothing. tell me where you want me.” she whispered. “i want your fingers.” “where?” “you know where.” “tell me or you get nothing.” you hesitate for a moment before saying feebly. “in.. in my pussy..” “that’s a good girl.”

she smiles as she pushes her hands into your slacks. she could feel your wetness. “i got you this worked up, huh? who knew little miss perfect could get this wet over me, a ‘nepo baby’?” she teased with a cocky smile. she slowly slides your slacks and underwear all the way down to your ankles before she applies a delicious amount of pressure to your clit. you gasp, your hand wrapping around her wrist. “oh, you like that do you, huh? you want more? fucking beg for it. cmon.” she applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing small and soft circles as her fingers ghost your sopping entrance. “oh— please ellie, i need more. give me more.” “gonna take more than that, baby.” you whine when she suddenly takes all that pressure away from you.

you let out another whine as you attempt to rut against her hand. her free hand slaps your thigh as she shakes her head in disapproval. “none of that. keep still. you get nothing until you beg like a good girl.” “please, please. ill do anything. just please touch me.” she chuckles at you. she found it cute how you were so desperate to chase that pleasure. “god, you’re so desperate. you need it so.. goddamn bad, don’t you?” she lets out a grunt in the middle of her sentence as she suddenly plunged into your pussy.

as she moves her fingers, she groans at how wet her you were. first she starts with middle finger, then adding her ring finger. her long fingers are hitting that sweet spot in you. she was making you see stars. “listen to yourself. look at ‘er, she’s crying for me.” she coos as she speeds her pace. you moan out. “watch me, baby.” you slowly look down at her fingers plunging in and out of you. sounds of wet squelching fill your ears. you bite your lip and you toss your head back as you let out a moan. you grind yourself down onto her fingers, chasing that wonderful and blissful orgasm.

you felt a pressure building up in your stomach. your eyes were fluttering open and shut. everytime you looked away, she stopped. you made sure to not look away. once that pressure in your stomach felt like it was gonna release, your moans became more broken. “ellie! ellie— oh fuck! ellie! im gonna cum! don’t stop, please don’t stop!” you say between moans as you bring your hand back down to hold her wrist in place.

“oh yeah? gonna cum? let go for me. make a mess on my fingers. cmon. i know you can do it.” she said as she kept her pace at that same one that was making you see stars. she’d been rambling something to you, talking you through it as she watched you cum all over her fingers. she helps you ride out your orgasm, a slight tremble in your legs becoming more apparent.

“what do we say?” “thank you.” she smiled as she pulled her fingers out. the sudden loss makes you whine. she sucks her fingers clean and you watch as her tongue runs across the length of her fingers. “still being a tease, williams?” you ask as you look at her while she does it. “mm.. well no, i dont think so. just savouring how good you taste.” when she was finally satisfied, she drops her hands. “so, you finally ready to stop being so stubborn and take the deal?” “not a chance if it means we get to have sex like this.” you respond with a chuckle. “maybe you need to be fucked again, hm?” she ask with a smile.

needless to say, you’d went another time, and on the third you fucked ellie. eventually you come to some sort of agreement after you’d been laid on her leather sofa, naked and feeling like you were floating. the only question you had now is what the hell had you gotten into. “will this turn into a scandal?” you ask. “.. probably not if we keep this under wraps.” she responds as she puts her head in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses to it. “plus, yknow i can just pay the media off right? they won’t say anything. not a peep.” she reassured as she smiled softly.

#wlfabby #tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #the last of us part two #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #ellie x afab!reader #ellie smut #tlou x reader smut

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jinuaei · 4 months

Text

Dare

I saw a vid on twitter where the dude came while tattooing his own dick. Couldn't get out of my mind so now I have to write it about Leon because he's my muse. RE2r Leon in my mind but with a lil bit RE4r body. NO OUTBREAK HERE.

I also don't have any experience in tattoos in general so pardon me for getting stuff wrong.

Update: Put the vid in question, unsafe twitter link underneath the fic

Warning: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Multiple orgasms(Leon), tattooing, needles, dacryphilia, UNSAFE LINK BELOW

Word count: 2.2k

Leon S. Kennedy x Tattoo artist! Reader

This was a bad idea.

Leon feels stupid standing outside the studio, he can't believe he's actually going to do a stupid dare that Chris forced him to do. He's going to get his dick tattooed. Thankfully, Chris was gracious enough to give him the freedom to choose his own tattoo.

I'll just get a small one and go.

But once he steps in and is greeted by the tattoo artist, he realizes that maybe he might get a bigger one after all.

You stood there with a smile, the tattoos on your body proudly shown to the world-- and holy fuck it was hot. He stammers a hello and nervously looks around, feeling awkward being in a place that he clearly doesn't belong in. There were a few people inside, 2 customers and another tattooist doing work on one of them, and of course there was you.

Chuckling at him, you guide this bumbling blond to your chair, showing him a catalogue of the designs that you do. He was overwhelmed with the choices so ultimately he just looked at you with his big blue eyes.

"Uh.. could...could you choose one for me? Something that you think would look good on me..."

...

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE ONE FOR YOURSELF???

He mentally punched the air when your relaxed eyes clashes with his wide ones, berating himself for probably annoying you with his indecision.

I-I mean, I don't really know much about tattoos so it would be a good idea to ask them right? I-it's not because I think they're gorgeous and want their approval or something right?? Yeah..

Expecting irritation crossing your face, he braced himself to get screamed at but instead he was met with giddiness. He relaxes under your eyes, finally keeping his nervousness under control.

"I'd love that! I was meaning to do a design I came up with recently, so if you don't mind I can do that to you?"

He nods eagerly, like a happy puppy getting asked to go on a walk.

"Great! Where do you want to get tattooed so I can modify it based on the area."

Leon's blood runs cold as the nerves came back ten fold. He forgot that he was going to get a tattoo, on his dick.

"...my dick." He tries to tell you but it only comes out as a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"My dick...!"

"Sorry could you repeat tha-"

"My dick!!! I'm gonna get my dick tattooed...!" He finally shouts, panting, exasperated.

The studio is quiet except for the buzzing of the machines, everyone's eyes was on him. He feels his face flush and tried to hide himself, scrunching into a ball, or close to it at least without looking like a pathetic baby in front of you. But being the angel that you are, only laughed and waved those staring at him as if to say 'this is normal'. Your assistant also laughed but directed the costumers attention to himself, explaining how newbies get nervous like that.

The blond unfurls himself, looking at you with sad eyes. You pat his head and he won't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry dude, we don't judge here. Luckily for you, I have experience in that regard, but you don't look like you have any. Fresh meat?"

"Yeah... This is my first time."

"Bold of you to choose a sensitive part of your body. Really brave bud."

A smile creeps onto his face, delighted at being complimented by you. Yet his mind wanders back to your words earlier, you tattooed other peoples dick before? Internally shaking his head, he then asks when they'll start, which you promptly answered with a right now if you're ready, in which he agreed excited to get done by you... The tattoo he means.

You lead him to a different part of the studio, a more private area to be exact, its smaller with only one chair for the client. Due to him being too excitable he forgot how embarrassing it would be for people to see his dick in general. But if it's you... Of course it's fine! You're tattooing him after all, this is professional work, be professional Leon.

He sits on the chair after you instructed him to, you then proceed to tell him to strip his pants and underwear and roll up his shirt. Before he did that though he had to ask something important.

"Does it matter if I'm hard or not...?"

"Nah, it'll still look the same whether it's flaccid or erected."

Nodding shyly he starts to strip off slowly, almost teasing, which embarrasses him further since he imagines himself looking like he's giving you a strip dance. You wait there patiently, head lowered, arms crossed, eyes switching between his pants to his own. Eventually he lowers his pants and underwear to his ankles, shirt blocking his dick, but when he raises his shirt your eyebrows raise when you see how hard he is. Red angry tip, twitching under your scrutiny.

"Do you like it...?"

"Hm. You're bigger than I expected. Great abs too."

That made him more confident, puffing his chest out in response. He laid down on the chair, readying himself with what's going to happen. On the side he can see you prepare a piece of paper with your design on it. Staring at you, he admires the tattoos that litter your whole body, your arms filled with dark ink, one half filled with intricate details of crosses and angels, he can also see some weird sigils, rings with what looks like Latin on it and stars. He can only assume that underneath your clothes there are more than what he is allowed to see.

The young mans imagination is cut of with a jerk of his hips, startled he looks at you wide eyed and scared. He tried to apologize profusely but you only shook your head and explained that you needed to put the stencil on his dick. Luckily he survived the stenciling as it was done faster than he expected, he can't say the same for the actual tattooing part though.

You we're thankfully very patient with him, caressing his thigh before starting, which his body reacted with a jerk that he somewhat kept to a minimum.

The first thing he noticed was the loud buzzing of the machine, the next is the vibration, finally-- the pain. It was bearable, but that was not the horrific part of this situation, no, it was the fact that he was enjoying the constant stabbing, combined with the vibrations it felt so good on his cock. Leon wouldn't say that he's a masochist, but damnit whatever the fuck is happening turns him on so fucking much.

Shaky breaths start to come out of his mouth, it was getting harder to breathe with the constant stimulation and if he focus hard enough he could actually feel your breath on his thigh. God you were so close to his dick.

"O-oh! Oh God...huff... shit. I like it, why the fuck do I like it???" He mumbles to himself, biting his cheek to suppress the moans that's bubbling up from his throat.

He tries so hard to focus on something else, the paperwork left on the station-- the vibrations... Chris' smug face when he told him the dare-- feels so good..! His best friend at home, his good ol' dog-- FUCK!!!

"STOP!! Stop...! Fuck. Ah...sorry, it's just hahh... Feels too good."

He pants harshly, fingers holding on the smooth leather for dear life. He feels humiliated under your stare, tears starting to prick at his eyes, making it hard to decipher the expression on your face but he can feel the heat in your eyes.

Your eyes hungrily take in his body, appreciating his muscles as well as his pudge in certain areas. With such a sensitive man in front of you, you get to see all of his reactions. The way his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed, his lashes accentuated by the heavy blush spreading from his face. Every flinch causes his body to flex and it is truly a sight for sore eyes.

However, since this is a professional setting, you as the professional doing your job, and him, the client just getting a tattoo on his weeping cock. The same cock that you have to wipe over and over as it drips pre-cum over your work. You tried your best to hold back, managing to stop yourself from ravaging this delectable hunk in front of you. But it was soooo hard to do so.

God... What a cute little thing he is. Makes me want to eat him up.

You tried to wait patiently for him to calm down, you waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes for it to stop twitching but it just wouldn't. stop. dripping. Ultimately you gave him a choice, either you stop here and work on it another time or you keep going regardless of how currently sensitive he his.

A whimper came out of his mouth when he sensed you getting more and more impatient with him. Wanting to please you he chose the 2nd option. The faster he's done the better right?

"If you're gonna cum, tell me."

"Wha- Hngggh...!"

The needles start up again and Leon really held himself back, gripping on the leather beneath his fingers. It worked for a moment but the sensation proves too much when his body jerks forward from a particularly more painful-- but delicious, jab of the needle. His hips was then forced down by your hand slamming itself on his pelvis. Your touch almost made him fall off the edge of the cliff but at that exact moment he had a brilliant idea to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

"Hahh...hng! Fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Pleasepleaseplease...!"

And then immediately proceeding to cum all over his chest and your hand that is still pining him down. Even then you were not strong enough to fully hold him down, his hips almost flying from the chair. Tears stream down his face, a mix of humiliation and pleasure dripping to the leather below. As he calms down from his high, he hears shuffling before suddenly, a weight plops down onto his lap. You didn't even warn him before starting again.

"Wait...! I'm still hnggg... I'm still sensitive!" Not knowing if you heard him or not, he tries again but is cut off with a moan.

"Don't move too much because I'm not stopping until it's done."

You're gonna be the death of him.

Finally after so so so so long you were done with his tattoo. Leon is spent, lying there chest covered with his fluids, t-shirt soaked with a mix of tears, drool, and probably semen. He was still twitching, eyes rolled back, overstimulated to hell and back. He doesn't know how much he came, thrice? Four times? Maybe even more than that but God was it amazing. Nothing could prepare him from the tenderness that you exude as you wipe the tears from his cheeks. You leaned in, face hovering over his as you look him in the eye, cooing at how much of a good boy he is for handling everything so well.

"Thank you... hahh hah..."

You hopped off his lap and went to get a mirror for him. He feels a little loopy with the dopamine rushing through his brain but that didn't stop him from thanking you. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes look at the mirror, showing his cock being held by you. Focusing on the design he can tell how much love you put on it.

It starts from just below the head, the whole thing wrapping around his whole dick. It was something akin to an insect, maybe a scorpion with 4 sharp legs, the head of the creature sprouting tentacles. The tail of it was long, twisting around until it stops, the sharpened end on the base, close to his balls. It was honestly really good, the shading makes it look realistic, almost like it will jump at him and bury itself into his skin. He's kind of sad that it's not similar to any of your tattoos. Still, he's happy to have been marked by you.

"Did you bring extra clothes?"

"What?"

"You can't walk around the streets with a cum stained shirt, and you need to wear looser pants so it won't irritate tattoo."

Chris you better fucking pick up.

I should've called Luis instead.

Chris brought him clothes, probably from his own closet and Leon knew when Chris arrived because he could hear his boisterous laughter right outside the private room. SHIT! If I could hear him, people definitely heard me earlier.

After dressing up and doing the walk of shame towards the main studio, he sees Chris and your assistant laughing their guts out. Yeah they definitely heard me, and he's probably telling Chris everything.

You went over to them and smacked the tanned guy upside the head, introducing him as Carlos. Leon strains a smile, regardless of how much he wants to curl up into a ball and die. But Carlos reassures him that it actually happens and how he also cummed from you tattooing his dick, although he was not as loud as him. After that he was informed how to do aftercare for the tattoo and both him and Chris were off to go home.

Sitting on the passengers seat, Leon tuned out Chris' teasing and how 'I can't believe you actually did it!' and 'Imagine cumming while getting a tattoo LMAO'. On his hand is a piece of paper, written inside is your number and a note that read; 'See you when it heals ;)'.

Hey, maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

The vid in question:

https://twitter.com/miauaoo/status/1740150245672321112?fbclid=IwAR17lRhs4MBgodCPaPNCDPLYxKSiTYr5xonOdN2QpnHtEZjODEXAN-6TuYs

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #sub leon kennedy #sub leon kennedy x reader #resident evil

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paymechildsupport · 26 days

Text

Can you write jjk men groveling after trying to make reader jealous🙏

--> Dw, I gotchu fam >:)

Jealousy looks good on You // JKK Men x Reader

[Trying to make you jealous is not a good idea

—> They make you jealous, you make them beg.]

☆ INCLUDES

☆ S. Gojo

☆ S. Geto

☆ Toji Fushiguro

☆ R. Sukuna

☆

————————————————————————

[--⋆ ★ SATORU GOJO]

The bastard’s a lil’ shit, of course somewhere in that combobulated brain of his he thought it was a good idea to make you envious

You were always so busy with work— what even were you doing anyways-? Surely it couldn’t be anything nearly as important as giving Satoru your attention— he was your boyfriend after all, your one and only

He’s rich enough to provide for the both of you, something he’s brought up to you numerous times, only to be refused. Even if Satoru had more than enough money, his time was split quite unevenly between you and his career,— something that frustrated both of you to no end. You needed something to do while he was away most of the time.

Satoru is annoyingly good at making his wants crystal clear; but when it comes to those deeper emotions, he struggles admitting when he’s dependent. You wanted to be invested in your job? Fine then, not like Satoru cared, he had his own job to attend to anyways.

Continuously shoving yours and his needs aside, he began to experience withdrawal from your presence. He missed your touch, your voice, your loving gaze,— and it showed

Everything blew up in Satoru’s face when he got a lil’ too pent up fighting the Special Grade, Jogo: why the actual fuck was he giving that cyclops his loving eyes?? It should be you enlisting such excited noises from his pretty lips, not the goddamn volcano bastard. He let down his infinity to hold his hand. You can’t remember the last time he held your hand— he was even starting to put up infinity around you of all people, and it hurt you to no end.

��That fucking bastard…”

Getting home rather late, your keys jammed into the keyhole, jiggling the lock open. Borderline kicking the door down, you storm into the apartment. Satoru’s head immediately shoots up at the noise, having previously just been napping peacefully. He still had that stupid blind fold on.

You don’t even bother taking your shoes off before making a beeline for his space on the sofa, grabbing him under the arms and roughly tugging him upwards. Manhandling him against the wall before he could even react— slamming your lips onto his, your tongue shoving itself deep inside his mouth

And now here he was, the Strongest, the untouchable Satoru Gojo on his knees at your feet, beautiful blue eyes glassy with tears, bottom lip quivering. He looked pathetic, all naked and bared to you, all flawless pale skin and defined muscle. His body was sculpted by the Gods themselves,— and here he was, saccharine voice shakily begging for your touch.

“P—…please!”

“Please what? Use your words, Satoru”

“Please touch me.-! *hic* I.—I need you—“

“Mmm…” you hummed, “sure didn’t seem like it…”

His gorgeous blue eyes widen, “I..-I…”

Grinning, “Say it, Toru. Tell me what you really want”

“You!” He sobs, head dropping down onto your bare thigh, “All I want is you.! Please,.. *hic* touch me…”

Your eyes narrow, “perhaps you should’ve thought more before giving some fucking curse bedroom eyes.” You spat acid, the words making Satoru wince

His sobs quieted, his muscular arms clinging desperately to your legs, criss crossed on the bed, “M’ sorry… so sorry…”

Gently running your hands through his snowy hair, Satoru inhales sharply, lips trailing light kisses along your thighs, whispering the next words into your skin,

“Jus’ wanted your attention… jus’ wanted you to look at me again…”

You sigh, smiling kindly, tilting his upwards to meet your gaze. Using your thumbs you wipe the tears from his cloudy eyes, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

He smiles back weakly, happy to finally just have your attention on him and solely him.

———-

[--✭- SUGURU GETO]

Being a nationwide wanted criminal and nefarious cult leader meant Suguru often had to get up to some nefarious activities,— activities he’d rather you stay far away from

Sometimes he’d spend days away from you, sinking you deeper into loneliness. It’s only natural you’d begin to branch out to other cult members for company

Suguru supposed he didn’t mind, at least not yet. He knew it was incredibly selfish to expect you to reserve yourself solely for his gaze, considering how often he spent away from you. He did adore that envious gleam in your eye whenever he talked to a new member, your possessiveness charming him. But when you started talking to those monkeys in town? Oh man, that set him over the edge. How dare those disgusting heathens defile you with their stench?

Boy did his master plan blow up in his face: trying to get you more co-dependent on his presence and his presence alone only seemed to have the opposite effect. He’d push you away so far that now you were seeking out those worthless monkeys for companionship. Suguru had never felt so wronged in his life before

Now here he was, in the temple where curses were suppose to get down and grovel at his feet was Suguru Geto on his hands and knees begging for your forgiveness

Head bowed low, hair cascading down his back, Suguru couldn’t even look you in the eyes as your gaze raked over his kneeling figure.

How ironic: there you were, lounging in his chair,— his throne— with the most notoriously dangerous curse user at your feet, groveling just like every other pathetic curse that’s walked into this room seeking his grace.

If any member were to walk in, they’d be absolutely horrified to see their Lord in such a pitiful state, but Suguru didn’t care. He only cared about you and what you thought.

“Please… forgive me, my love”

“…” looking every bit the vengeful God, your chin propped on your hand, your condescending gaze knocked the air right out of Suguru’s lungs

“Why’d you burn down the village?” Your tone is curt, devoid of much emotion

“They—- those.. those monkeys… you know what they did-“ He spat, the words tasting sour on his tongue

“No, I don’t. What did they do?”

Suguru’s eyes widened, finally looking up to meet yours. Were you seriously gonna make him say it?

“They… they.-“ he started shaking, the rage starting to bubble up to the surface. “They….-“

Sighing, you slide off the chair, kneeling down in front of him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Suguru’s cheeks reddened,

“You can’t leave me alone and expect me to keep myself for yourself” your voice is hard, “being grateful.. it’s a rather cherished trait amongst your members, yeah? How about you show it every once and a while?”

Suguru hissed, he shouldn’t allow you to treat him like this. No one should be allowed to treat him like this. If it were anyone else, their head would already be rolling on the floor.

Not you though, you were the exception,— he loved you,— and he oughtta show just how much he appreciated you

Taking your hand in his, he brings it daintily to his lips, pressing them softly to your palm,— then your wrist, and a butterfly of little kisses up your arm, stopping only when his face meets your ear, whispering hoarsely,

“I’m sorry, darling,… please, I’m devoted to you alone… let me show you…” he kisses the spot behind your ear, nibbling lightly on the skin, “please…”

You sigh, leaning in and allowing him to worship your body one would a God.

—————-

[---ˏˋ♥̩͙⑅ TOJI FUSHIGURO]

Toji’s a very busy man,- what with being a bounty hunter. In between hunting down homosexual teenagers, it’s hard for him to find time for you

Because he’s a soulless old man who hates all happiness, Toji couldn’t help but resent Gojo Satoru even more, especially when the little git decided to approach you of all people

Little teeny Gojo, tugging at the hem of your shirt on one of your rare outings with Toji.

You look down to see the big, blue eyed child looking up at you

How could you resist that eery, soul searching look? 🥺 you immediately bend down to converse with the young lad

Seeing one of the few outings he had with his beloved being taken up by that six - eyed wretch made Toji want to punt the stupid brat to the moon

Long after you got home was Toji still thinking of the dazzling smile— the smiles that were supposed to be reserved for him — you gave to Gojo

Toji knew it was incredibly petty of him, but he couldn’t help but feel a little vengeful towards you— (a lot of his hatred was already directed at child Gojo, so Y’know, it had to go somewhere else at the moment)

Now, even on the days he didn’t have any targets to kill, Toji would spend his time with Shiu Kong, the man who gave his commissions.

It did not work well for him. It only served to anger you, now giving him the cold shoulder. Toji was not built for this, and in a matter of days deprived of your attention he was a mess at your feet:

It’s almost comical, the way you sat, crossed arms, in your seat, staring down at the man kneeling before you. Toji was massive, seeing such a big man curl up and make himself so small was absurd.

Beefy arms wrapped around your waist, head in your lap, Toji could only continuously mutter apologies against your stomach, kissing the soft flesh and praying you would eventually forgive him, promising he’d never pull that shit again,

“ ‘so ‘srry sweetheart,… ‘won’t happen ‘gain…”

—————-

[--‗ ❍◦ RYOMEN SUKUNA]

Ryomen Sukuna never begs.

He’s never had to, never will.

He’s never asked nicely for something in his life before, what makes you think he’d ever beg for anything?

He begs for your attention.

“Look at me, goddamnit…” the curse growled in your ear.

Sitting on Sukuna’s lap, you stare off uninterested into the void of his innate domain. The iron hold of his arms tighten around your waist. Not enough to hurt per say, but as a warning. You half expected him to shove you off, letting your body crash into the water below the throne of skulls.

Sukuna rests his chin on your shoulder, huffing,

“That was an order.”

You only pout.

“Oi, human” silence, “who the hell do you think you are to ignore me?” His voice was lethally quiet, voice husky on your ears.

Gulp.

“You’re an idiot if you’re still mad about that movie” — that got your attention

“I’m an idiot?” You snort, “You sure looked like the idiot to me: practically drooling over that human worm abomination.” Condescension oozed from your tone. Yuji’s movie played on repeat in your mind; the absolute fever dream of a film that somehow garnered Sukuna’s attention. The eye poking out of Yuji’s cheek wide open the entire time, fixated on that revolting, stomach churning excuse of cinema.

He doesn’t look at you like that anymore.

“Are you jealous?” He sneers, mockery dancing in his tone, “how cute.”

“Shut up. Shut the actual hell up. You pulled that shit on purpose.”

Cackling, “you mortals sure are vain little creatures, getting upset over the most useless things-!”

“Fine.” You snap, starting to squirm your way out of his hold

His tone immediately drops to a stern demand, “What are you doing?”

“I’m done here,— you obviously have better interests. I’ll be leaving now”

“No, you won’t.” Just as you were about to wriggle away you’re grabbed around the waist, sharp nails stabbing into your skin.

You yelp.

“Let me go-!”

“No.” Sukuna effortlessly lifts your struggling body up, spinning you around on his lap, harshly yanking you against his chest. You’re surprised he doesn’t rip your arm clean off, considering it would be very easy for him to just cleave you in two, (you can’t really run away then).

“You aren’t going anywhere.” His face is buried into the crook of your neck, squeezing your body against his, as if you would disappear at any moment.

Deep crescents were pierced into your skin by his claw-like nails, droplets of blood gathering at the tiny openings where they previously had gripped your neck. Tentatively, he swiped the crimson drops away with his tongue, dainty kitty licks covering your neck.

With a gentleness unknown to him, Sukuna muttered against the warm skin,

“Stay with me.”

Sukuna’s never said “sorry” before in his many long centuries on earth. The word wasn’t even in his dictionary,

—but for you, apologies could be made in other ways.

———

A/N: rauarauassjjsjs thanks for the request!! :3

Had a lot' o' fun with this one.

168 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

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the customer’s always right just gave me life, they're just so sweet AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | heart-shaped

summary: you think you might be falling in love with eddie. eddie thinks he might be falling for you. a series of stashed away insecurities threaten to get in the way. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 10k holy moly warnings: talks of drugs, shitty boyfriends, and being a whore <3 also reader gets fingered <3 a lil bit of angst, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ah shit here we go again!! thanks for waiting so patiently for me to get over my writer's block and finally post! reading all the feedback for this series has been so nice, all of you guys are so so sweet <333 anyway, pls enjoy this installment and if you don't.. maybe don't tell me :^) happy reading ily!

( PREVIOUSLY) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Truth be told, working the lunch rush at Enzo’s wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

It meant you got to miss out on serving all the wine snobs at dinner who send back devoured dishes like it’s their job — insistent on a refund because their food was “unsatisfactory” just to get twice the meal with half the tip.

The rich country club goers you waited on were far more docile in comparison. They arrive dressed in pastel-collared shirts and pretty athletic dresses after finishing up their tennis practices or games of golf.

They sit and talk for hours, dine on the most expensive shrimp and wine, just to leave a tip so ginormous that you have to thank them before they go. It’s a flaunt of wealth more than anything. It might’ve felt the least bit demeaning if it wasn’t going directly into your pockets.

And it would be way too lame of you to say that getting to see Eddie Munson after your shift was the only thing getting you through it at all. That sort of puppy love belonged to high schoolers who don't know any better, you know that… But screw it— knowing you were going to meet him after was the only thing getting you through this mind-numbing, foot-aching, brain-cell-losing, eight-hour shift.

The days, of which there had been four (but, then again, who’s counting?), had been excruciating without him.

You couldn’t even sleep the first night you left his trailer. You felt him everywhere — your mouth, your chest, and between your legs — still buzzing with his touch even halfway across Hawkins.

It had you swearing up and down that the Dungeon Master had some actual powers you didn’t know about. That he’d cast some sort of love spell on you after getting you to come on his thigh.

You quickly learned that Eddie Munson was the kind of boy that girls lose sleep over; the kind of boy that reduces you to your basic schoolgirl tendencies as you grin into your pillow and kick your feet in the air.

It was embarrassing, the effect he had on you.

And you so desperately wanted to blame it on whatever witchcraft the town thought the leader of Hellfire possessed. It was easier than facing the fact that you were head over heels for a stupid boy.

You didn’t even have time to face it, really, because you were already too busy falling for him. He had you tripping all over yourself and face-planting into the petals of a thousand roses — it was pathetic.

You’d catch yourself smiling whenever you thought of him, grinning like an idiot while you rang up customers at the register — more ecstatic at the idea of Eddie than the hundred-dollar tip they’d left you. It made you giddy to think about seeing him again, enough that it distracted you from the fact that you hadn’t sat down since your shift started.

Eddie had you full of sunshine and rainbows and mirth, like something out of a damn GAP commercial. It was a particular sort of happiness you thought abandoned you a long, long time ago.

Apparently, you were wrong.

You think of Eddie, and a foreign feeling of anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach. It almost makes you sick with childlike excitement. You didn’t know another person was capable of making someone this happy. It’s unfamiliar and daunting and euphoric and really fucking scary.

It’s an otherworldly feeling that feels like it’s only happening to you. A secret you want to keep to yourself and shout from the rooftops at the same time. People bustle around you, keep on living their mundane lives, and spare not a glance to their lovesick waitress.

No one knows I’m falling in love right now, you find yourself thinking.

But that isn’t exactly true. Jim Hopper knows because that asshole knows everything, and notices almost immediately how strange you’re acting.

The chief of police was always a comforting sight amidst a sea of strangers, most of whom made more in a week than you could ever hope to make in a year. He's a breath of fresh air, as it were, which is strange considering the two of you spent the entirety of your high school career playing cat and mouse.

He’d catch you smoking, threaten to turn you in, and you’d beg him not to — pull out all the stops, the puppy dog eyes, the innocent schoolgirl charm, the whole damn nine to make him melt.

He’d take pity on you and let you off with a warning, as long as you promised never to do it again. And you’d lie to him, tell him it was a one-time thing, and he’d catch you a week or so later — getting high at the quarry or with your hand shoved down the pants of a man too old for you at Lover’s Lake.

And the cycle would keep on repeating for the next four agonizing years until you graduated.

Strangely, somewhere along the line, the two of you became pretty good friends.

Everyone once in a while, he’ll stop by Enzo’s during his breaks to keep you company. He never actually orders food, though, just binges on the endless free breadsticks until the buttons of his uniform threaten to pop. He'll bathe in yellow candlelight and chi-antee for an hour or more and then leave you a too big tip you always have to fight about when he goes.

Your pour the crimson colored wine he’d ordered into his rounded glass, flashing him the label before describing the vintage to him, per your boss’s demand.

It feels foreign to be so formal in front of Hopper — because, after catching you with a mouthful of Tommy Hagan in a car back in '83, nothing makes either of you uncomfortable anymore. But sometimes it feels like your asshole manager is lurking over your shoulder every damn second of the day.

And having a job is more important than your pride, you figure.

“This is a medium-bodied, acidic tart, ruby red wine. The earthy aroma pairs nicely with the cherry and strawberry notes…” and blah, blah, blah. You’ve repeated the same couple of lines so often you’ve started to say them in your sleep.

“Well, shit, teacup. If you put that much effort into school, you coulda been valedictorian,” Jim quips with a signature dad smirk that’s half-hidden beneath his bushy mustache.

It’s not the first time he’s made that dumb joke, and it won’t be the last.

You roll your eyes more at the nickname than the backhanded compliment, because it isn’t your fault the sasquatch is six-foot-four.

“How much is this one gonna cost me?” he asks you and leans in his plush seat to reach for the wallet in his back pocket.

“Don’t worry about it, lurch. It’s on the house.”

A mischievous glint twinkles in Jim’s eye as he squints up at you. He tucks the leather back into his khakis. “Sure Enzo won’t mind?” he asks you because he hasn’t yet bothered to acknowledge that your boss wasn’t actually named Enzo.

“Yeah, he’ll be pissed,” you confirm with a shrug. “I just don’t care.”

“Well, you’re in an unrealistically good mood after the lunch rush,” he sing-songs.

You don’t miss the suspicious lilt in his voice. Your smile is equally sarcastic and sickly sweet as you tell him: “It’s ‘cause my favorite customer is here—”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” he interjects with a curt shake of his head. He sits up straighter and leans his elbows on the white linen cloth of the table like he means business. “Who’s the boy?”

“What— I don’t— What are you— boy?” you sputter with a half-hearted laugh. Your stammering isn’t the least bit convincing.

“It’s a boy, right?” he monotones. “You only get all giddy and gross like this when there’s a boy.”

You hate that he knows you so well. It might’ve been sweet if it wasn’t totally infuriating.

To be fair, you did tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you didn’t want to. When you were falling in love, it poured out of you like sunshine and blinded anyone who dared to look too closely.

Golden rays shoot from your fingertips, shine in the irises of your eyes, and flash from your smile — like the one tugging at the edges of your lips now.

It leaves no room to deny what he already knows: that you’re a stupid girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy because she hasn’t learned from her stupid mistakes.

“Fine,” you concede with your sheepish gaze flitted to the ceiling. “It’s— It’s dumb. It’s a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Hopper nods, like he’s giving you some kind of blessing. “Good for you. It’s about time you moved on from that asshole— what was his name again? Harrington?”

It makes you roll your eyes. You can’t tell if he’s actually confused or if he’s making fun of you. It would be all too like a middle-aged man to make a misogynistic joke about a girl who’s had more partners than years she’s been alive.

“Hargrove,” you correct in a monotone. Your tone is as bitter as thinking about him makes you feel.

“Him, too,” he quips.

There it is.

“It’s not even like that, okay? It’s not like anything,” you try and deflect like you aren’t beaming and trying horribly to hide it. “He… He probably doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Well, it’s about time you got over that boy, is all I’m saying. You deserve a good guy. A boy treats you right, who has actual aspirations in life, and keeps his nose clean—” he rambles as he brings the wine to his mouth to take a drink. He stops himself to ask: “What's his name again?”

You fidget ahead of him, shifting your weight on your feet awkwardly because good guy who stays out of trouble and has actual aspirations in life isn’t how most people would describe the Munson boy. Jim least of all.

He’s got a similar relationship with Eddie to the one he had with you, though there was little room for friendship between the two. It’s just an outlaw making a living on drugs and a chief trying to catch him dealing it.

“Eddie,” you answer and then clear your throat. “Uh, Eddie Munson…”

The life leaves Jim’s eyes.

There’s no amount of wine in Enzo’s cellar that could’ve prepared him for that — or you, for the twenty-minute lecture that followed.

“I have no words,” he’d scolded you like a disappointed parent but proceeded to rant for nearly half an hour after the fact, in true fatherly fashion.

Hopper knows when you’re falling in love. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and blue skies. It’s all so sweet he could gag. But there’s always another side of that coin — a dark, colder, meaner one.

Because sometimes boys are cruel, sometimes you really are in over your head, and sometimes relationships don’t work out. And when things go bad, they go rotten, and he has to deal with the storm cloud you become after the fact.

Taking care of you becomes his part-time job, and his check-ins become endless as he makes sure you don’t fall back into your old ways — using and getting used.

And truth be told, you don’t have the best track record with men, and Hopper tries to tell you all this, but it doesn’t get through.

Because you have a good feeling about this. About Eddie.

Fuck all the rest.

Today marks your thirteenth meeting with Eddie.

For such an unlucky number, it’s got you squirming from all the butterflies fluttering in your belly with an excitement more innocent than you’re used to. Like standing in the queue for a rollercoaster in a childlike mixture of apprehension and animation, somehow both frightened and enraptured for what’s to come.

And you’re absolutely bouncing with it. Smiling to yourself in the car with the radio turned all the way up and the windows all the way down, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you belt the lyrics to “Super Trouper” with a beam that could make the sunshine cower.

It’s all completely and utterly perfect until you become suddenly aware of how unearthly happy you are.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks and you shrink into yourself because… maybe you shouldn’t feel this way. The last time you saw Eddie, he came in his jeans and you got off on his thigh — there was never any room for daydreaming and pining and puppy love-ing, not when you so quickly gave yourself away.

The thought of Eddie not nearly being as happy to see you is what hurts the most. How he had you once and now you’re back to just being the customer he sees once a week.

What if he doesn’t give you weed for free anymore? Fuck that — what if you’re not his favorite?

And maybe it’s just you, maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you should be passed the point of giddy excitement, maybe it’s uncool, maybe you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve and it’s leaving the door open for too much hurt. Maybe Hopper was right.

But you’re happy, at least for right now, and you don’t get the chance to be too often.

Most days, you’re just an accessory — a pretty pebble someone finds on the ground and spends a couple of seconds ogling at before leaving and never thinking about again.

You deserve the chance to be held, don’t you? You should get to be praised and coddled and worshipped like the pretty girls do.

And Eddie makes you feel held.

So you’ll stick around until he gets bored of you, until you stop being so fun for him. You’ll take the moments of happiness as they’re spoon-fed to you and taste them, really taste them, until you’re starving again. You’ll stay full of this pure puppy love you have for Eddie until it’s time for you to go.

Because, for now, you’re happy. And isn’t that what matters most?

You don’t know it, but Eddie’s caught in a similar dilemma.

He waits for you at the bench you meet him at every week, like you’ve done for months now, but he’s filled with an unfamiliar gaiety as he anticipates your arrival.

He’s so goddamn excited to see you that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It borders on a slight uneasiness that makes him sick to his stomach.

Eddie never gets nervous around customers. Not once, not ever.

He’s dealt to weirdos who live on the wrong side of the track, preppy douchebags that shove him into lockers at school, and pretty cheerleaders who pretend he doesn’t exist outside of dealing.

He’s seen it all, really. But you’re the one that’s got him bouncing his knee something fierce beneath the table and tapping his fingers against the rotted top of it while his heart races a million miles a minute.

He’s frightened of being too overeager. He’s scared that you’ll come here, all cool and collected about all of it, and he’ll be the freak show acting like a pretty girl’s never given him an ounce of attention before. They haven’t, but he’d rather not project that sort of disposition. Not to you, at least.

He guesses, more than anything, he’s just afraid of scaring you away.

So Eddie tries to keep the smile on his face hidden — not knowing that it’s your favorite part about him. He tries to be as stoic as possible. He wants to be this cool and mysterious and sexy guy he thinks you want, having no idea that you’d already fallen in love with him before he even realized he needed to be those things for you.

He’s just about able to wash away his grin when he sees you emerge from the woods and into the small clearing where the lone picnic table lives.

The pinky plaid skirt you wear rustles against your legs with the breeze, the pleated edges brushing against the skin of your thighs. You pair it with a white piece of Beatles merch that clings to your torso — and fuck he hates the Beatles, but you’re the prettiest thing his cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’s beaming at you before he even realizes it. And by the time he does, he doesn’t feel like the idiot he thought he would.

You’re both sporting matching grins, trying to hide them and failing miserably. His is pursed softly to the side and yours is pulled between your teeth.

You look like the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, Eddie thinks to himself.

His eyes must be the golden of them, you conclude.

When you settle on the bench in front of him, you tuck your skirt neatly beneath you and focus on smoothing out than fabric rather than meet the boy’s gaze. You sport a meek smile and a pair of fidgeting hands that ache to touch him.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly.

He sees your face scrunch in embarrassment at how shy you sound, and the way you almost reach out for his hand but stop yourself just as quickly. He wishes you wouldn’t. He wishes you knew how perfect you were, even when you weren’t totally graceful.

“Hi,” he repeats with a mocking, but no less loving grin, tilting his head towards his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know… overworked and underpaid,” you shrug. “Just the usual.”

You’re grateful for the small talk. It leaves little room for the awkwardness swimming in your belly. He doesn’t immediately mention what happened the last time you saw him, like people often do when they want to do it all over again. But he isn’t in a hurry to give you your weed so you’ll leave him alone either. That's what people usually do when they want nothing to do with you anymore.

It’s almost like it never happened.

Or rather, like it did, and he isn’t treating it like a spectacle.

It’s refreshing.

“Boss giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, always. I’m pretty sure that’s what he gets paid to do, actually.”

“Right,” he breathes out a laugh.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, just a blink of a second, but it’s noticeable. The sudden quiet floats on the cool breeze that ruffles Eddie’s wild hair and sends a shiver down your spine.

In a split-second decision, you decide not to deprive yourself of the urge to touch him. Partly to distract from the stillness, but mostly because the ache had reached a fever pitch.

You’re so enthralled by his hands resting upon the old wood — the veins that decorate the back of them like the roots of a tree, the way his fingers thrum to a beat only he can hear, and the rings that wrap around them.

“Is this new?” you wonder aloud. You take his wrist in one hand and trace the glinting silver on his pointer finger with the other. It’s the bony fingers of a skeleton curved to form a heart. He’s taped the sides to make it fit better. It didn’t belong to him before now.

Eddie watches, pleasantly surprised, as you dote on him.

Your eyes glitter golden beneath an early setting sun. They dance with amusement as your fingertip traces his heart-shaped ring. He smiles to himself and wonders how often you’re looking at his hands to notice he’s got a new ring on.

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugs. He plays it cool, like his heart isn’t thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest at your touch. “Got it a couple days ago at the thrift store outside of town. It was a whole seventy-five cents.”

“I like it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” he repeats with a scrunched nose and blushing face.

It makes you giggle. “Yeah. You can be cute and badass at the same time, you know?”

“I didn’t know those were mutually exclusive.”

“They weren’t. Not until you came into the world, Eddie Munson.”

He feels cold when you drag your hand away. The kind, almost teasing grin you flash his way warms him all over again. He’s still trying to get used to being so loved on.

You can see the way he gets lost in you for a moment. His cinnamon-tinted gaze, made golden in the sunlight, glazes over as his head gets stranded in the clouds.

The only reason you notice it is because it happens to you. Eddie makes it so terribly easy to float in the deep galaxy of his eyes. Your heart swells to know that it’s happening to him now. Happening to him because he’s looking at you.

You didn’t know you were the kind of girl people could get lost in.

Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, mostly to himself, but enough to jostle the soft curls that frame his face and sit above his eyes.

“Well, I’m honored, sweetheart,” he grins his signature grin, the bright and cocky one, though he’s too shy to make it reach his eyes now. He busies himself and his restless fingers by rifling through the product sitting in the tin box at his side — baggies full of green nuggets and white powdery pills.

“So, uh, what’s on the menu this week? The usual?”

“I’ve still got my stash from last week,” you confess. “Haven’t really had the time to smoke it yet.”

His eyes flit up to yours again. “…Yeah?” is all he can think to say to you because internally he’s buzzing — you didn’t even need weed, he thinks to himself, you just wanted to see him.

You only shrug. “I’ve just been, like, crazy busy this week.”

Eddie nods understandingly, but can’t help but to joke: “Is that why you haven’t called?”

Because, fuck, if the past couple of days without talking to you haven’t been complete and total agony. He knows it’s a little too brash and brave of him to wonder why you went AWOL when he hasn’t exactly made an effort to seek you out either.

Not for lack of wanting to, though. He’d like to put that on record.

“Well, I didn’t call because I don’t have your number,” you retort with a smile that toes the line between cunning and timidity. “So, you can’t really blame me for that.”

He huffs dramatically. “Guess not.”

“It’s probably for the best. If I could call you, I’d never leave you alone.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d want you to,” he dismisses your negative talk with ease.

You warm with his words and duck your gaze on instinct. You keep your eyes on your hands while you fidget with your fingers, wishing that they were his instead. “Just don’t want to bother you or whatever, you know?”

“You could never bother me.”

“Promise?” you ask him. Your smile is playful, but your words are sincere.

Eddie’s is much of the same. “Cross my heart.”

“How about this — I give you my number and you just call whenever you’re free,” you offer, more confident at the boy’s admission and glowing with it. “‘Cause, you know, Wayne probably wouldn’t appreciate me clogging up the phone line very much.”

“He wouldn’t notice… Or care,” he tells you and pulls out an old pen from his tin box. His sparkling deep brown eyes stay locked on you as you rise from your side of the bench and round the table to sit next to him.

You’re obviously not as nervous as he’d been at the trailer all those nights ago, when he had to practically be beckoned over to realize you wanted him beside you.

You sit opposite him, with your knees pointed away from the bench. You get to be closer to him this way. Your thigh presses against his as you twist towards him, your chest mere inches from his arm, your mouth even closer.

You write a series of numbers on his forearm that Eddie can’t make out because he’s too busy looking at you. He admires the frown between your brows as you struggle to get the ink to write and the way your lips purse to the side in concentration.

“Wayne would actually be pretty stoked I was talking to a girl—” he jokes with a laugh though he’s quick to cut himself off like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

His admission was supposed to be funny, something the rest of Hellfire would’ve laughed at because they know him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t really want you to. You’ve already got this idea of him in your head. He lives in agony that he won’t be able to live up to it.

He’ll just have to fake it, he concludes. Fake it until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t read into his words too much.

“He wants you to settle down, huh?” you joke back, half-distracted as you doodle a heart onto his skin.

“Wants me to move out, more like.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the bed.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, right. That old geezer’s practically in love with his Laz-E-Boy.”

He watches with glimmering eyes as you laugh. Then he’s smiling because you’re smiling. He isn’t sure how else he’s supposed to look at you. How could anyone possibly look at you and not hold so much love in their eyes?

You haven’t yet let go of his arm, he notices, as you cradle his wrist in your grasp and swipe your thumb over the blotchy blue veins there. Your gaze is pointed down to where you hold him. There’s a distant grin on your face as you admire such a minute piece of him.

He wants so badly to kiss you.

He could. All he’d have to do, really, is move his head a couple inches and he’d brush the apple of your cheek. The skin would warm against his lips until he ducked down to kiss you for real.

And he feels just bold enough to ask you, but not quite enough to say the words out loud. Instead, they sit impatiently on the edge of his tongue while he waits for the right moment to say them. The wind blows, and it passes.

“It wouldn’t be totally crazy if I kissed you right now, would it?” you ask him first, looking at him through your lashes like you’re scared he might reject you.

He glows pink, momentarily stunned that you beat him to the punch, then worried that you might’ve read his mind. He plays it cool with a shrug and a shake of his head. “No… Not unless it’s totally crazy how bad I want you to kiss me right now.”

You don’t waste any time. You gravitate towards him like you were made to do it and he meets you easily halfway.

When your lips lock, it feels like a routine. Kissing you is like a cup of coffee and the morning paper and a rocking chair on a front porch — something he could do forever and ever and not get bored of.

You kiss him so soft, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with him, but your tongue swipes into his open mouth, and it’s dirty.

Eddie still isn’t sure how a person could touch him the way you do. You’re all sweet, like you’re frightened you might break him, but you aren’t scared to kiss him like he’s yours.

As good as it feels to have him against you this way, the position you’re in isn’t any less awkward. Your upper-half is still twisted to face him and he has to lean slightly over to touch you completely.

He explores the cavern of your mouth with a more confident tongue than you remember him having while ten ringed fingers press into your ribs.

Eddie can feel your mouth contort in a smile. He thinks it’s because he’s tickling you, but you’re just in love and totally giddy with it.

The wooden edge of the bench digs into your spine. The ache distracts you from feeling him the way you want to — the way you need to — so you make a split-second decision to rise from your seat and rest your bottom on the table.

Your lips click wetly, almost out of protest, when they part.

You use the palms of your hands to lift you and prop your sneakers on the bench seat when you sit down again. You wait patiently for Eddie to accommodate you, to rise and keep kissing you the way he was just kissing you.

He does. Eventually.

He just needed a few moments to gather himself when your new position flashes him the faintest glimpse of your panties — all black and dotted with little red hearts that have started to fade with time.

His eyes widen and he everts his gaze immediately. His cheeks and the tip of his nose go red, like he’d been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. It’s sort of stupid. You were getting off on his thigh some days ago, and now you’re kissing him like you mean to swallow him whole, surely you wouldn’t mind him peeking.

If he were someone totally different, he might’ve spread your legs, dug his fingers into the fat of your thighs, and put his mouth on you like he wanted to do three nights ago — like he’s been wanting to do for ages.

But he doesn’t.

He just sits there, for what feels like forever, feeling like a total idiot.

But if you notice his hesitancy, you don’t show it. You just cup his warm cheeks in your hands and drag him up to you. Eddie isn’t enough of a dumbass to reject your affections.

He happily melts into your touch once more while the both of you maneuver like a bunch of lovesick teenagers around the bench — rather than just part momentarily to move more efficiently.

You round the table so you’re propped on the outside of it and Eddie’s no longer confined in the seat. If making out and multitasking was an olympic sport, you and Eddie would take the gold, no doubt.

It’s hopelessly high school, the way you make out like teenagers in some clearing, known only to Eddie’s most loyal customers and a golden orange sky.

It feels rebellious and raunchy, like you’ve just snuck out of Mr. Kaminsky’s lecture on chemical bonds to fuck under the bleachers. You kiss each other and it feels like you’re doing something so much more than yourselves.

Eddie touches you and you feel like a kid again. Everything’s just new experiences and stomachs full of butterflies — heartache is virtually nonexistent.

As far as you’re concerned, you’ve never been kissed before now.

You had no idea someone could hold so much love in their mouth and then kiss you with it. You’re so used to tongue and teeth and spit, not these slow and sweet pecks that feel like white clouds and summer rain.

Every now and then, Eddie will slot his kiss-bitten bottom lip between the plush of your swollen mouth. And he’ll just stay there, for several long moments, just to feel you. His ringed fingers rise to cradle your jaw to keep you against him. His nose knocks against the bridge of yours and his heavy breaths fan against your cupid’s bow.

You’re not sure why he does this, why he chooses to be so soft with you when he knows he could have you however he wants. You’re a kitten purring against his chest now, all pliable and willing for him, but he just likes how still and soft you are like this.

You let him kiss you the way he likes. You notice he takes acute infatuation with your bottom lip, biting softly and pulling at the skin until it’s a plump pink thing for him to suck into his mouth.

Every swipe of his tongue against yours is experimental and methodical. He finds what makes you exhale the heaviest moans and keeps doing that until you’re a puddle of a woman in his hands.

Oh, god. His hands.

It’s almost unfair how kind they are.

One keeps a steady, warm hold on your cheek. He can feel the way you start to soften as you lean more and more into his touch. The other has fallen to your thigh. His fingertips settle beneath the skirt you picked out specifically for him, but don’t move any further than that.

He just likes the feel of you, it seems, as he pets the softness of your skin. Occasionally, he’ll squeeze and marvel at the feeling of your thigh in his grasp and the way it makes you moan against him. The feeling of his silver rings against you makes chill bumps erupt on your skin.

You’re unsure if he knows the effect he has on you. Surely, he must, you figure — just days ago you were falling apart on his thigh and here you are now, willing to do it all over again.

He touches you like he knows. Like he takes pleasure in teasing you until you’re all but begging for more. And you’re not the least bit ashamed to do it, either. His touch, his hand down your panties, it isn’t a want — it’s a need.

You take Eddie’s wrist in your impatient hand, moving his palm further and further beneath your skirt until it’s pressed against the dampening cotton of your underwear. “Touch me, Eds,” you plead against his mouth, already breathless.

The boy tenses.

It’s a dream come true in the most literal sense, to feel you like this. You cling to his consciousness wherever he goes. You’ve spent so many nights plaguing his dreams that they’ve started to feel like nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, achingly hard and shuddering with cold sweats at the mere thought that he’d never get to have you the way he always dreamt of having you.

But it’s here now, lying beneath a heart-patterned cloth, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He’s not scared of you exactly, just of everything else.

His hand has never gotten anyone off but himself. He’s scared that he won’t make you feel good, or worse, that he’ll hurt you — he’s scared of himself. He’s terrified of losing you and you’re not even his.

It’s everything else that frightens him, but not you. Not when you’ve got your legs spread out before him and begging him to touch you. Not when you act like you want to be his.

Rather than deprive himself of the dream of you, Eddie decides to hook his pointer finger around the hem of your panties and slide them to the side.

With your pussy concealed by the pleated skirt you wear, he’s forced to work blindly while he touches you. He doesn’t mind, though. He takes the opportunity to feel you as it’s presented to him on a silver platter — the softness of your lips, the trimmed mound of hair above them, the slick coating your warmed skin.

You feel like silk and velvet. A material that’s far too expensive to touch. It makes him feel like he’s ruining you in some way.

Eddie’s open-mouthed, heavy breaths fan against your lips, all nicotine and mint gum. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him — billowing across your jaw, pressed between your thighs, fingers treating your pussy like it’s a piece of delicate art.

“More,” you beg in a dream-coated sigh and spread yourself further for him. You’ve got one hand twisted in his leather jacket and the other flipping up the skirt of your dress, putting yourself on display for him — a piece of delicate art indeed.

You’re laid out before him, all at once, bare and glistening with need.

He’s seen plenty of vaginas in his time, usually photographed in a centerfold of a magazine or half-blurry through a botched VHS tape. But, for obvious reasons, you’re quite different.

You’re beautiful. The kind of beauty that men would’ve fallen on their swords for a time ago, the kind you’re lucky to see in a lifetime. That’s a bit what it feels like to look at you. He looks at you, and he sees a cotton candy sunset over mountains that touch the clouds or clear blue waters that go on for infinity.

Even like this, with your pussy on display for him — in a moment that’s supposed to be dirty — it’s a serene sort of beautiful. You need to be hung up in a museum, Eddie thinks to himself, in the Louvre or some shit — because a freak show from the middle of nowhere shouldn’t get to just have you like this.

He slots his middle finger between your lips, for once not overthinking when the urge to feel you takes over. You soak his appendage with ease, the slick only adding to your softness. He dips down to the dimple of your opening and rises to the peak of your swelling clit. He notices how it makes you twitch against him.

It feels like being you’re touched for the first time. Unfolded and cherished like some sort of expensive gift. You’re not used to this sort of tenderness. No one’s taken things this slow with you before. The way he’s making you feel good is for him just as much as it is for you. It’s unfamiliarly blissful to be handled with so much care.

Eddie watches with heavy and attentive eyes as your head tips back, like you’re starting to drown in your own pleasure and unbothered to keep yourself afloat. Your contented sighs and gentle tremors spur him forward. Those subtle praises almost equal the pleas that spill from your kissed mouth.

It makes him stop worrying about how to do all this without being totally obvious that he’s never done any of it before.

Everything he knows, he’s gotten from poorly produced porn. He doesn’t want to treat you like that. Like you’re some toy or plaything or a game to be won. He wants to take things slow and treat you right because it’s becoming more and more obvious to him that no one’s ever done that for you.

He’ll be your first, if you’ll be his.

He finds himself grateful for how responsive you are. He doesn’t need to know everything there is to know about sex or ask you for direction like an idiot because your pussy tells him what to do.

You tremble every time the pad of his finger swipes against your clit. He can feel you clench around nothing every time he dips towards your opening, as if in a silent plea. You tell him what you like without saying anything, but rather by drenching him in clear-coated honey.

His eyes have trouble flitting away from your pleasure-ridden face and down to where he coaxes you open. His finger glistens with your wetness. Beneath a setting sun, it looks like the sparkling rays over an ocean.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost moaning. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Sorry…” you mutter meekly.

“What?” Eddie finds himself laughing softly, brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden embarrassment. That’s not the response he was expecting. “Why are you apologizing?”

Your skin burns hot at his question — no longer warmed from pleasure, but out of pure self-consciousness. It’s a conversation you’re used to now, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. With his finger still caught in your drenched pussy, you find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze and instead peer at him through your lashes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Some guys think it’s gross… And messy—”

“Screw ‘em,” he blurts. His brown eyes twinkle with a newfound confidence, not one of the unabashed metalhead drug dealer, but one of a boy whose head over heels for a girl who doesn’t know what it means to be truly cared for. “It’s sexy,” he assures you.

A shy smile hints at the corners of your lips, innocently comforted by the promise and pleased by the compliment. “Really?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wholehearted nod. He means it more than anything he’s ever said. “Cross my goddamn heart.”

He leans in to press his lips against yours then, just because it feels right to, and you graciously accept his affection.

Eddie’s kisses come in innocent, loving pecks that are far too sweet in comparison to the way he’s making you feel. His finger traces the slick gathering at your opening, not having to force his way in because your pussy is more than wanting.

Both of you let out low moans when he’s finally inside of you. He doesn’t stop until the silver of his ring is pressed into the outside of your pussy.

You’re wrapped around him like velvet, warm and tight velvet that won’t let him go. He works hard to find a steady rhythm that you like and watches your every reaction intently.

You’ve got your lip dragged between your teeth, biting so hard that the fragile skin has started to blanch. Your eyes have fluttered slowly shut with a frown forming between your brows in a vague concentration as you focus on your own pleasure.

You seem to like it most when he’s crooking his finger rather than thrusting them inside of you. At least, that’s what he assumes, as he reaches a much softer spot within you that makes you jolt against him.

Your hand darts to his wrist, not to tug him away or pull him any closer, just to tether yourself to him.

“Can you— fuck—” you sputter when the palm of his hand bumps against your clit. “Can you add another finger? Please?”

You’re all whiny and breathy like you’re begging him, like there’s any chance he might deny you. Eddie’s not exactly in the business of saying no to you.

He slides his ring finger in with his middle. He marvels at how snugly they fit inside you and how the sticky nectar coats his skin. Your wetness has gathered around his silver rings, including the one with the skeleton hand you were complimenting earlier.

He doesn’t ever want to wash them again... Not that he ever did in the first place, but he makes a vow not to start now.

Eddie doesn’t know it, but this is the part where you usually get embarrassed. Sometimes you think you’re too sensitive, too responsive. You’ve found that there’s a threshold between being sexy and being needy that most guys tend to enjoy. But, for you, it's a finicky thing and you find yourself crossing it before you realize it.

You moan too loud, talk too much, whine too often. Nearly everyone you’ve ever been with has said so in some way or another — mostly in gentle approaches that are observations more than anything. But some boys aren’t so nice. They say that you get too turned on, the wetness coating your pussy is evidence of that, and they tell you that’s it’s gross.

But here, now, with Eddie, there’s little room for embarrassment.

He tells you that you’re pretty, swears up and down that the way your slick trickles down his fingers is sexy. And for the first time in your life, you find yourself actually believing someone who tells you that.

You let him pry you open with slow and meticulous touches. You can feel his bent fingers deep inside you, exploring the slick velvet of your walls, and rubbing at the spot that makes you keen. It’s got your back arching and thighs trembling by his waist, toes curling inside your sneakers while you keep a tight grip on his wrist.

“Rub my clit, Eds,” you plead breathlessly with your eyes shut tight. You’re about to come, you can feel the tightening coil in the pit of your belly, you just need a little bit more. “Please, Eddie— please, touch my clit—”

He’s hasty in his attempts to comply to your request. He barely lets the words leave your mouth before he presses the pad of his thumb just above the hood of your clit. And it doesn’t feel bad per se, it actually feels pretty damn good, it’s just not where you need him most.

It’s not the first time a guy’s had trouble finding your clit and you figure it won’t be the last, so you opt guide him with a helping hand. You maneuver his thumb until it’s pressed snuggly against your swollen button.

Eddie watches attentively as it makes you whine. You arch your back, pressing yourself further against him, as a moan rises from the depths of your chest and spills out of your mouth. You pull him somehow closer by the lapel of his jacket.

He takes every unspoken criticism to heart, along with every one of your wordless praises. His acute attention to what you like the most — how his thumb on your clit makes you clench around him, how you moan every time he rubs against that foreign spongy spot inside of you, and how he keeps on doing that because he can tell that you like it — sends you to an otherworldly place pleasure.

It’s different from guys that are just good from experience. Most do the same old shit that gets their girl off because they know they’ll get off in the end, too.

Eddie’s attentiveness is unfamiliar and spellbinding, all-consuming and unavoidable. A pleasure you’re both chasing and wanting to run away from out of fear it might be too much.

“Is this okay?” he whispers to you, breath fanning across your cheek.

You nod wordlessly in reply, with your lip caught between your teeth as you fight to bite back the cry building in your throat. It’s hard to when he’s so intently hitting every spot that makes you dizzy. The moan that inevitably spills from your mouth sounds wet, like you might really start to cry.

“Fuck,” you wail when your stomach tenses. His fingers, deep in the confines of your pussy and rubbing at your clit, are relentless. Pleasure’s biting at your ankles now and you have no way to stop it from swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Eds—”

Your mouth hangs open as you drop your head down to watch him work you open.

His ringed fingers are coated with you, a sheen of honey that drips down his fingers and onto the silver wrapped around them. You’re hopelessly spread open for him, your pussy blooming like a flower at the promise of springtime for the boy, and then tightening around him to keep him trapped inside you.

It’s dirty, like a lewd piece of art that you can’t help but gawk out.

You fight to keep your heavy eyes open. You want to watch what he’s doing to you, but it’s a harder feat than you could’ve ever imagined. Pleasure rises so violently in you. You’re frightened you might burst entirely.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper. It’s a warning to you but for him, it’s a promise. Your head tilts back again, face scrunched in a gentle sort of horror, like you’re scared at how good you feel. “Please don’t stop. Oh my god, Eds— Please don’t stop. Please, please, please—”

Eddie presses a gentle kiss to the buzzing skin of your cheek. He whispers his slurred promises there, too. “I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not gonna stop until you want me to, ‘kay? Not until you’re pushing me away. Wanna make you come so many times you can’t take it—”

You clenched around him at his words. His fingers, trapped in your velvet, struggle to move within you as you tighten. The thumb on your clit works you through your orgasm.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan while your hand grips his wrist something fierce. Pleasure builds and builds and builds, striking you like lightning so suddenly, and reducing you to a shuddering mess on the picnic table in front of him.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers in your ear through his own trembling breaths. “Yeah, keep going for me— keep coming.”

You comply.

You don’t have much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

Your orgasm runs over you like a dozen fucking freight trains. You’re caught in your own riptide of pleasure, drowning in it with no way of getting out. With no choice but to endure it, you whine and writhe against him while his hand stays trapped between your trembling thighs. It forces you to feel all of it until you can’t take it anymore. Just like he promised.

The pleasure passes. The vice-like grip your pussy had on his fingers lessens. The high fades. But Eddie keeps going. You don’t feel much of it at first, still pleasantly numb and buzzing, then you realize how sensitive you are.

He crooks his fingers faster, rubbing against the swollen spot inside you, while the pad of his thumb presses steadily against your clit.

You’re sloppy and wet and still gushing from the fading orgasm. A second one wouldn’t be too hard to reach, not with Eddie touching you the way he is just now, but you’re scared that it might be too much.

The I can barely see, we need to lay down a towel, hold me while I float into subspace sort of too much.

“Mm-mm,” you hum softly in protest, twitching against him while you squeeze his wrist. You feel his fingers still within you.

A lazy smile plays on your lips as you tilt your face towards an orange sun, all fucked out and beautiful. Eddie could stare at you for ages and find something new to love.

“No more. I need… Need a break.”

You shudder when his fingers drag slowly out of you, trying hard not to jostle you too much. The pads of them have started to prune slightly. His ring and middle finger stick together with a mixture of your come, he separates them to watch your honey stretch and break apart.

He doesn’t know what to do with them. If he should wipe them on his jeans, or if that would be too barbaric of him. If he should stick them in his mouth to finally get a taste of you, or if you might think that’s too much.

You beat him to the punch, just like you always do, as you grab him by the wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes are still half-closed as you run your tongue over his skin, sucking at them like they were his cock — god, he wishes it were his cock.

He watches you with his own heavy gaze and an agape plump pink mouth, stunned at how you could do something so sexy without thinking. He has no idea how you manage to find ways to become more beautiful just when he thinks you’ve run out.

When you pull off of him, you do it all slow, like you’re teasing him. A soft, wet pop sounds when your lips leave his fingers. You smile like a fucking minx at him when you do.

“Was that— Was that good for you?” Eddie asks you with a nervous, doe-eyed chocolate button gaze. You’re unsure how he could make you feel so good and then worry that it still wasn’t enough.

“It was perfect, Eds,” you promise, then joke: “If you don’t believe me… believe the wet spot you made me leave on this fucking table.”

It makes both of you laugh like a pair of lovesick idiots.

Your hands rise to his jaws, fingers getting lost in his wild curls as you drag him to you again.

He keeps a pair of steady hands on your hips as you lick hungrily into his mouth, kissing him like you haven’t gotten tired of kissing him yet. And when you part, you leave one, two, three more pecks against his lips.

“So… This is what you came out here for, huh?” Eddie jokes with his signature stupid grin that you want to kiss all over again. “You didn’t even want the weed, you just wanted to use me. I’m wounded, sweetheart. Truly.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Came out here to see you… This part was just a bonus.”

He happily accepts the kiss you give him, though he tenses against you when your hands travel from his jaw and to his chest, trickling down his torso like drops of rain until they rest on his belt.

“Something tells me you don’t mind either way,” you murmur against him when your palm settles against his hard cock trapped in his tight jeans.

He can hardly hear you, though, too trapped in his own head.

He can’t fuck you out here, not like this.

Maybe it’s too stereotypical for a virgin, but he wants his first time with you to be on a real bed and not some bench that threatens you with splinters. He wants to wine and dine you, and treat you right like he’s supposed to, not fuck you in the middle of nowhere like you’re a plaything he can do whatever he wants with.

But he doesn’t know how to tell you all this, so he parts from you with a wet click and shakes his head. “You don’t— You don’t have to—”

“I want to, Eds,” you assure him. “I promise.”

“I can’t… I mean, I guess, I’m not really…” he stammers out. He has no idea what to say to you, totally at a loss of how to turn you down. The way you clutch his covered dick, make his toes curl in his sneakers and his brain go all stupid, doesn’t exactly help either.

“What?” you tease with a light-hearted chuckle as you squeeze his rock-solid cock through the denim. “Not really hard?”

“No, it’s just…” he breathes out a laugh, or rather tries to.

He watches with wide and frightened eyes as you work at his belt buckle, struggling to unfasten it without his assistance. There’s a tug-of-war playing in his brain right now, because he wants you — he wants you so bad — but not like this.

Not when he hasn’t been completely honest with you.

It’s not fair to either of you.

Least of all when he has to turn you away without explaining why.

“I don’t think we— we really shouldn’t,” he tries to let you down easy, but to you it just sounds like he’s being coy, playing with you so you’ll beg to suck his cock. And you keep on going because you’re not totally above that. “No, really. I can’t— seriously, stop. We need to stop.”

The sudden firmness in his voice makes you still. Eddie’s never talked to you like that before. The stern, foreign words he spits at you tells you that he’s serious.

You jerk away from him like he’s burned you.

Embarrassment sets fire to your face.

“Sorry. I just— I thought that— I just wanted to return the favor,” you stammer out in an apology, frightened you’ve crossed a line with him.

No one’s ever turned down a blowjob from you before. Most times, that’s all guys want.

“No, yeah, I know,” Eddie nods understandingly when he sees how you’ve started to shrink into yourself. He steps back from you and tucks his belt back through the loop of his jeans “I just… I— I have more customers coming… And everything, so…”

“Right.”

“Yeah. And I don’t really, you know— I don’t want them to see…” he trails off with a shrug because that’s easier than saying, I don’t want them to see you sucking my dick. No one deserves to see you like that. That’s for my eyes only.

It would’ve been something short of a compliment had he said it out loud. You would’ve blushed with a shy, cheeky smile — “For your eyes only, huh?” you would’ve teased like you weren’t enlightened by the prospect of belonging to him and him only.

But because he doesn’t say that, you take on a whole other meaning to his words. I don’t want them to see me with the town whore, you can imagine him thinking. I might be the freak, but being associated with the slut would be a whole new low.

Maybe it’s irrational thinking, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to you. The fear has turned into a full-blown phobia.

You’ve made a boogeyman out of the clothes in your closet because you’re so frightened of him leaving you. And he doesn’t even fucking belong to you.

“Right,” you echo with a nod. “Okay.”

You find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze as you slip off the bench, sliding your panties back into place before pulling your skirt down again.

You’re so deep in your own head, wallowing in your woe, that when Eddie leans down to kiss you, you jerk away from on instinct. Like your body’s telling you not to play with fire, something that’s destined to burn you.

Because Eddie can’t ever belong to you. In some ways, you can’t really belong to him either, not when you’ve belonged to half of Hawkins.

But your wordless rejection sends a shock to his heart, a bolt of blue that pierces the beating organ. Your denial feels like heartbreak and you can see the anguish coat his features. He looks at you look a wounded puppy, glassy eyes going wide and thick brows frowning softly as he wonders what he did so wrong.

You kiss him anyway, if only to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong — that it’s all you and your stupid brain that won’t let you enjoy a good thing while you’ve got it. It’s the briefest little peck, a brush of your lips against his, and it has his mouth tingling anyway.

“I’ll call you later?” he says to you, though it comes out as more of a question than he intended it to.

You shrug with pursed lips, then try your best to smile. “Whatever you want.”

Eddie watches you walk away and feels like an idiot to let you go.

He can tell that he’s upset you. You’ve had too many shitty experiences with guys not to be weary of another, and he knows that.

But he also knows he’s a total fucking coward — he’s always ran away from things, never towards something. Because that shit? — That shit was fucking scary, even for a so-called devil-worshipping freak.

But he finds himself hurrying towards you anyway.

His raggedy sneakers practically float on air as something short of muscle memory carries him towards you before you can get too far away.

And when he reaches you, he takes you by the arm, spins you and pulls you towards him. You barely get the chance to blink before he presses his mouth against yours.

He cradles you by the neck, resting large palms on either side of it, as he slots his lips against yours. And he does that thing where he just rests his kiss there, just feels you.

Eddie notices when you relax against him. You sigh against his cupid’s bow, your hands fall to his waist, and you melt totally into him. Your lips untangle slowly and tingle when he parts from you. You know you’ll be feeling him there all night… there and everywhere else.

“I’m gonna call you later,” he tells you, voice confident and unwavering.

He hopes you understand what he really means by them — whatever you want, you’d said when you saw how unsure he was. And now he’s telling you what he wants, not to make some stupid phone call, but that he wants you.

He can tell you get the hint when you smile at him. It looks like the pinky-orange sunset that bathes you in warm-colored hues.

You nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

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

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