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emomanswhore · 1 year

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I feel like... if you call ghost daddy in bed he'll go crazy

ghost with a daddy kink ? oh yeah… he definitely eats it up, when his prettiest princess calls him daddy in bed. <33

—❤︎︎ — DADDY’S HOME . . . ❞

SIMON GHOST RILEY X FEM!READER

✵. !! WC : 3.7k

✵. !! TAGS & CW : explicit content! (18+ mdni) - service/softdom!ghost (he’s a lil bit mean), cunnilingus, daddy kink, size kink/difference, praise/petname usage, subtle spit kink, squirting, thigh slapping, overstimulation, dumbification, pussydrunk!ghost (hes in LOVE with your pussy), orgasm denial, fingering, the mask stays ON.

✵. !! A/N : hihi babies ! just a lil treat for y’all and thank you for 700+ follows and all the love you’ve given for simon says ♡!! hope you enjoy this mini fic, lmk how we feeling about it !! <33 ps… i folded. im sat. i actually wanna call this man daddy so bad. 🧎‍♀️

In your mind, there was one word— one forsaken word that you refused to utter. A word that only the most sexually deprived would use.

A person with their morals in check, should never attempt to sexualize something that is meant as an innocent title and name. Usually reserved for an actual father, or someone fulfilling the role of a male caregiver.

Right.

A person with their morals in check.

Right. You totally weren’t projecting… and deeply shaming your own innermost yearning, to desperately call your boyfriend ‘daddy’ while he fucked you.

It definitely wasn’t a thing you could say you were proud to admit outloud. Nope, you would quite frankly rather be caught dead than have your questionable cravings exposed to the world.

But every single day, you swore to god that your boyfriend tried to purposely provoke you into using the absolutely forbidden word.

Simon always took care of you. Whether that’d be making sure you got to work safely, cooking you meals on days that you were too tired to be bothered, or even texting you throughout the day to make sure you were resting properly.

You know. You know that’s probably the absolute bare minimum, and what a boyfriend is supposed to do for you in a serious relationship. But you just couldn’t help that ache and flutter you got in your heart, that made you so weak for him.

He worked so hard every single day, busy and moving nonstop on less than four hours of full rest. Even when he had his most stressful and agonizingly long days at work, he still tried to reach out to you. It could be a single worded text message or a phone call that only lasted for five minutes.

No matter what or without question, Simon will do his absolute best to tend to you. It was truly unconditional love, devotion, and his unspoken rule to give you whatever you most desired.

And you feel sick— sick in the head for letting your insatiable lust take over your sense of morality. Putting his mostly wholesome catering ways, in the same category as what you needed to relieve that scorching, sore pounding in your core.

That was alright though, you could live off your little fantasies and scenarios you created in your mind. Always making yourself dizzy and soft headed, imagining a world where he would make love to you and refer to himself as ‘daddy’.

It would suit him so well. Your hulk of a man, who had to put a slight bend in his knees whenever he came through the doors of your home. His mellow, husky voice always gently rasping to you— almost never, ever raising it higher than an octave at you. The way he could spoil you absolutely rotten, only ever calling you by his own little terms of endearment.

Always putting you first when he fucked you. Even in times when it got rough or you two were experimenting with things on the more intense side, you always came first. Literally and physically, since Simon couldn't properly get off himself, without knowing you were completely satisfied.

Your aftercare would consist of cuddling, he’d coo the sweetest of praises as he handled your sore limbs.

“My sweet girl, look at how pretty she is. Did such a good job today, angel. I know baby, I'll take good care of you now. Such a pretty girl, aren't you?”

It’s perfectly fine.

You could keep all those things about him to yourself. Just let your brain work its magic, to create fantasies and fill the deep void of your scorching carnality. You always subconsciously needed that one little thing to make yourself come even harder. But you were a good, grateful girl for him and always let Simon know how well he treated your body.

It’s perfectly fine. You don’t need a daddy kink in your life, to make yourself feel better. You were so much better than that, and you’d never let Simon get the idea that you were some ill, perverted deviant.

It was all fine.

Until today, when he finally pulls the most forbidden word out your mouth— and satiates the bubbling, hot desire that has a heavy chokehold on your heart and soul.

You don’t know how things escalated so fast.

One minute, you get his text that he’s on his way home and he’ll see you soon.

Out of pure joy and excitement to finally see him again after three weeks, you start to get yourself ready for the evening by taking an extra long shower. Making sure you’ve lathered and exfoliated every inch of your body in vanilla scented body polish, with a hint of brown sugar and cocoa butter. It was always Simon’s favorite scent on you, and he’d seemed more clingy than usual whenever your sweet aroma hit his nose.

The next hour, you throw on a simple, yet cheeky little lingerie set.

A delicate floral embroidered baby blue bra, with its matching mini stringed thong panty. You couldn’t help but fall in love with it at first sight. The design is a lovely work of art, the milky color enhancing the glow of your soft skin— yet it’s so scandalous on your body.

You did purposely get a smaller size, but on top of that it was made of see through mesh material. Not a single doubt in your mind that if he looked close enough, Simon could make out the shape of your nipples through the bra. And between your legs? The outline of your folds were perfectly clear and transparent against the light color of your panties.

After spending another minute admiring yourself in the bathroom mirror and taking a few selfies of your enticing form, you slip on a fluffy cream colored robe and head to the kitchen. You wanted to get something in your stomach before Simon came home, so you decided to lightly snack on a slice of pomegranate fruit.

You don’t even make it to the fridge before you hear the sharp clicking of keys turning a door knob, and feel the cold gust of wind that comes with the front door being swung open.

A gasp and squeal flies out your mouth as you bounce up and down on your toes, the actual sight of your boyfriend trudging in through the doorway makes your heart swell and pound in your chest.

“Baby!” You practically skip on your feet towards him, unable to hide your excitement of his abrupt appearance, as he starts taking quick strides to meet you halfway.

You think with how fast Simon approaches towards you, and him not even bothering to take off his shoes at the front door, he must’ve been just as excited to see you.

When you two finally meet each other in the middle of the hallway, you give him a big, dazzling smile as you go to lean in to hug him.

Before you can get your arms around him, he places a large hand on the small of your back and pulls you in close to his chest. You gape up at him, your smile slowly melting down to a look of pure confusion. Knees already feeling wobbly at his close proximity, and the way he has to tilt his head down to look you in the eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, when he slowly drags his open palm up along the cotton material of your robe. Even through its thickness, you can feel the heat radiating off his hand that follows along the curve of your back. Sending tingles down your spine, when his hand eventually makes its way up to the soft nape of your neck.

You both stare at each other. Your eyes become hazy and unfocused, while his dark ones scan over your perfect little form. You hear him pull in a deep breath of air through his nose. Holding it in his chest for five seconds before letting it back out, while he drags his eyes up back onto yours.

“Been thinkin’ about you all day long, y’know that?” He mutters these words, yet somehow they’re loud enough to ring and echo in your eardrums. You pull your lips in your mouth, feeling your core thump in tune with the pitter patter of your heartbeat.

You practically whimper out loud, as he continues onto his sentence,

“ ‘S about time I came home. Think it’s only right to show my princess how much I really missed her, wouldn’t you agree, pretty baby ?”

That was the only warning you were given… for what your boyfriend truly had planned for you, once he finally got his hands on you. Everything after that moment, truly did escalate as if time were being fasted forward.

You knew he missed you. Without him vocally telling you how much he thought of you, his actions spoke much louder than his words.

He was so sloppy.

From the way he practically rips your robe off your trembling body, to pushing you down onto your shared mattress and diving face first into the warm heat of your clothed pussy.

He was truly like a dog in heat. Not even bothering to take his mask off completely from his head, and only lifts it enough to show you his parting lips as he comes face to face with the growing patch of wetness sticking in your panties.

“Look at my pretty lil’ lady,” he coos softly, hooking his thumb into the side of your soiled panties and pulling them to the side to expose your glistening cunt to his heavy eyes. “Missed me, haven’t you? Can’t imagine how tight ‘n upset you are, since I haven’t been givin’ you proper treatment lately.”

It always blew your mind when Simon literally talked to your pussy.

Speaking in soft murmurs and giving it the same delicate pet names that he gave you, the owner of it. As dumb as it probably sounded, you sometimes couldn’t help but feel that ugly swirl of jealousy when he practically treated it like it was an entire living and breathing person.

You don’t have time to mull over your childish feelings, letting out a squeak when he grabs both of your thighs and presses them back until your knees squish against your chest.

“Know you’re mad at me, little one” Another squeak sounds out your throat, as you feel him turn his head to the side of your thigh and he lets his teeth sink into the doughy flesh of your skin. He hums, sucking on the flesh before letting it go and pressing a soft kiss to the flaming bruise he leaves behind. “Gonna show you how much I’ve missed splittin’ you open on my tongue.”

He follows through with his words, putting his full attention back onto your pussy. Using his index and middle fingers to pry open the thick lips of your cunt, groaning when he sees your hole twitching and spasming over nothing. The scent of your nectar coating your thighs and leaking out your pussy, makes him feel even more high and drunk off your arousal.

You’re so messy already. And like the gentleman that he was, Simon always took the initiative to help clean up messes that you made.

Still keeping his fingers spread enough to keep your lips parted, he lolls his thick tongue out before swiping it on your slit. You mewl and flinch at the feeling of his warm tongue, but he grips the side of your thighs to keep you still. Simon continues licking up and down your cunt. Maintaining the same pattern of stroking his strong tongue, as if he were savoring a frozen delicacy that helplessly dripped down the side of its waffle cone.

Once he feels like he’s collected enough of your cum on his tongue, he pulls his tongue back into his mouth to let the taste of you sit heavy on his taste-buds.

Your toes curl and you let out a soft gasp, as you watch him hollow his cheeks, before he lets the sinful mixture of your cum and his spit fall right back into your twitching hole. Chuckling to himself as he watches the way his greedy girl swallows up the little treat he gave her.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, princess” This time he does actually talk to you, dragging his eyes up from your drenched pussy and onto your blearing, glossy ones.

“Always so good for me. Could eat you up every single day ‘n never get tired of it. Can’t believe I went so long without this, fuck.”

Simon starts to probe his tongue along your core, tracing the shape of it until he finally pushes inside you. Already feeling the tight caverns of your pussy ease up, and welcome the thickness of his tongue rubbing up against your gushing walls.

“S-Sim— oohhh,” You throw your head back, unable to finish your squealing when he pulls his tongue completely out of you, and decides to inflict his torture upon your little clit. First he flicks the tip of his tongue over it, then he lets his mouth completely envelop around your pearl. Pumping it a few times between his lips, before pulling off to run his tongue over the expanse of your pussy.

You weren’t going to last.

You were far too sensitive after not having him around to please you for three entire weeks. All you could do was sob and let it happen, letting out a cry before you feel a fat watery gush of cum shoot out your hole. Simon pays it absolutely no mind, only widening his mouth to catch every little drop you gifted him.

“That’s it. Such a sweetheart, you’re already spoiling me ‘n givin’ me a lil’ treat. ,” He feels the way your body starts to relax, already going into its state of after pleasure— but he isn't done. Far from done, actually. Hasn’t even been half of an hour yet, and your legs start shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Ah, Ah,” Simon tuts, slapping his palm hard on your soaked inner thigh, making you jolt and buck your hips up. “C’mon baby, couldn’t have thought I was done with you. ‘S only been a few minutes, ‘n you’re tapping out already? Thought my baby missed me, hm?”

It hasn’t only been a few minutes. Even in your dazed and dizzy mind, you knew that he’d been feasting on your pussy for well over twenty minutes. You shake your head, bottom lip wobbling as you let out a soft sob.

“I di-did miss you, baby” You sniffle wetly, feeling him trace his thick fingers along your soaking heat. Shaking your head in protest as he slips in his middle and ring fingers, humming while you babble to him. “But I can’t ta— aaahh, t-take it anymore. ‘S too much, baby. No more.”

“Too much?” He starts to flex his fingers deep inside of you, curling them in slow motions to stimulate your special gummy spot, that has you sobbing hysterically.

“You haven’t had your fill yet, sweet girl. I can feel it. Y’see this?” Simon tries to retract his fingers from your cunt, but your walls instantly clamp down on him. “You’re not lettin’ me out. My little lady down here knows exactly what she wants. So c’mon princess, lay still ‘n let me spoil this pretty pussy rotten.”

Having absolutely zero regard for your whines and sobs, he continues his previous abuse on your poor little pussy.

Seconds, minutes, hours, decades— You can't even tell how long he stays between your thighs.

Simon uses both strong hands to keep your legs steady and trap you from squirming or running away. You can take it. You will take it. He knows how much you need this, humming at every broken little sob and wanton moan that comes screeching out your throat.

Your vision starts to blur while you stare up at the spinning ceiling. Saliva pooling in your mouth and making a puddle next to your temples, as you let it run down the side of your lips.

You’re going crazy.

So high off the overstimulation of his face buried deep in your leaking pussy, that you swear…. you swear, you can feel your brain getting mushy. So mushy that if you shook your head hard enough, it could probably come spilling out through your ears.

He’s speaking into your pussy, saying words and mumbling something out loud. But you can’t hear it. All you can hear is your heartbeat pulsing in your throat, and feel the way he shakes his face side to side, while his tongue is plugged in your cunt.

Feel the way his hands grip your thighs so tight, that the blunt tip of his nails dig deep into your skin. You can already imagine the bruising and crescent little puncture marks it’ll leave on your legs.

It’s all so sloppy. Your pleas and cries for mercy, getting lost in the little squeals of ‘yes!’ and ‘simon!’ you can’t help but let out. And he eats it up, kissing your heated pelvis while burying three fingers inside of you.

“There’s my good girl, y’sound so pretty” He goes back to focusing his attention on your sore clit, giving it an open mouthed kiss before he continues speaking to you.

“Wanna hear my girl tell me who’s making her feel good. Hm? Lemme hear it. Say who it is, that can make you sing your little heart out.”

You make some unintelligible garbles, and Simon chuckles at your quivering and hiccuping. He squeezes your thighs encouragingly and smacks the side of them twice.

“Big words, baby. You’re a big girl, so tell me… who’s making you feel good right now?”

“It’s…” You swallow thickly and sniffle, slowly losing your train of thought as he suctions his lips around your swollen pearl. “It’s— ohhh, ‘mmm my goddd. It’s you…”

You start to gather some of your discombobulated brain cells to form a complete sentence. Simon’s name sits on your tongue, and you’re ready to tell him, it’s him. Simon. It’s Simon.

Until he pulls his head back with your clit between his lips— taking it with him, and letting it go with a loud pop!

It’s not Simon.

“Oooohhh g-god. It’s you! ‘Mmmy goodddd… daddy, it’s you… it’s all you, daddy.”

He pauses.

Whipping his head up to see if he really just heard what he believes you just cried out. Tapping the side of your thigh, he tries to get your attention so you can focus on his voice.

“What was that, honey? Didn’t hear you, come back to me and say it again.”

You whimper and hiccup, tears run down the side of your face and you continue whining at him.

“ ‘S you, daddy. Need you so badly, pleasseee baby. ‘M-m so close. I need it.”

Unbelievable.

He lets go of your trembling thighs. Letting the weight of his body help keep them pressed against your chest, as he crawls from up below your stomach and hovers over your face. Simon’s face is covered in your arousal. His lips glisten, and a good portion of the mask is damp and sticks to his skin.

“One more time, honey. Y’said it’s ‘daddy’ ? Hm? It’s your daddy, that’s taking good care of this pretty pussy?”

Simon’s fingers trail back down between your legs, softly shushing you as you keen at the feeling of his digits sliding back inside of you. He stares down at you, practically seeing the little stars spinning in your eyes. You weren’t in your best state of mind right now, but he’ll be damned if you tried denying that word escaping out with your cries.

“Can’t come ‘till you let me know,” You give him big, sad eyes but he shakes his head at you. “Wanna come, right? Tell. Me. Say it again, _____.”

At the use of your real, full name you quickly snap back into reality. It was like a switch, your bubbly headspace falling apart and bursting open once he rasped your name.

You did it. You really did call him daddy. It was your most taboo, and forbidden word—

But fuck it.

Today, your daddy was finally home. And you needed him to take care of you, just like he always did.

“Daddy,” you mewl out, feeling another hot sensation shooting through your spine. It was coming. You were so close. “Daddy I n-need you. ‘S you Simon, so please, pleaasee let me cum.”

His nostrils flare before he’s smacking his lips down on yours. Licking inside of your mouth, and inhaling the little moans you let out from tasting yourself on his tongue.

“Not yet, pretty little baby. Daddy hasn’t had all his fun yet.” Simon pulls away from your lips for a moment, laughing softly at the way you try to chase after his mouth for more. He uses one hand to swiftly fumble with the buckle of his belt, making quick work of pulling down his cargo pants and boxers. Laughing again when he pulls his drenched fingers out your greedy little hole, that puts up a fight to keep him deep inside your cunt.

“Must’a been treating my lil’ lady real good,” You can feel the heat of his hard, thick cock pressing onto your pelvis. Already licking your lips and grabbing onto his flexing bicep for support. “Gotta keep showing my special girls how much their daddy loves ‘em.”

He uses a free hand to guide his length to your throbbing pussy, unable to help himself from slapping the head a few times against you. His cock makes a squishy plop plop when he makes contact with your sticky folds, and teases you with a rub on your raw, swollen clit.

“Want you to remember this, once I’m done with you.”

Simon feels your nails dig into the hard meat of his bicep, bracing yourself when he finally lets the head of his cock greet your warm, welcoming insides. Already feeling the way your pussy grips around him, and makes no plans of ever letting go.

“Want you to remember what’ll happen every single time, that daddy comes home to his pretty, little princess.”

✪-tagging-✪ / : @touyyes @winterbimbwo @sirenh4ll @sailewhoremoon @noriken @kokobunn @fushisslut @dilftaroooo @aasouthteranoswife @daeneeryss @simon-rileys-princess @g4bby @sussywowzaee @lazuli-leenabride @moonshot-eclipse @mietkoz @honeybee54321 @lich1 @terrythetortoise @fuckinriley @actuallyanita @wedonttalkabouthenry @motionlessinrhi @hauntingtherosebush @spookyclowwn

(couldn’t tag y’all </3 ily tho) @benandjerrysisqueer @bleedingmagic-02 @tescomealdeals-blog @getoruii @alyssam14 @officialjotchuagirlfanclub

#ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon riley #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty smut

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reallyromealone · 1 month

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This isn't a request but I'm brain rotting rn about imagining Emma is once again at a toman meeting with another 'girl' and Draken of course scolds her and is like "Don't go bringing your schoolmates to a gang meeting," but it's actually reader crossdressing and Mikey's new bf

Thank you, bye bye I had to tell somebody and I thought you would like it. 🤧

Title: cross dressing

Fandom: Tokyo revengers

Pairing: Mikey x reader

Warnings: slight au, male reader, cross dressing, fluff

Notes: made some slight alterations for the sake of hahas

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Mikey was slightly annoyed as he heard his younger sister brought someone to a Toman meeting, the girl making friends at university and he often saw her friends when he got home from gang stuff or helping shinichiro with his shop on occasion.

What he wasn't expecting was (name) to be dressed in cute feminine clothes and a mini skirt, tucked flat-- Mikey chuckled silently to himself as he knew (name) probably regretted letting Emma get into drag racing shows. Draken scolded the girl as (name) glanced around and saw Mikey leaned back on his chair with his legs spread, slicked back blond hair showing off his tattoos as he winked before blowing out smoke from his cigarette.

(Name) And Mikey had recently begun dating, the blond initially hesitant when he learned Emma had a male friend and Draken nearly hostile at his girlfriend being so close to the cute boy but they quickly realized that (name) was not interested in Emma or any other girl.

What Draken didn't know was that Mikey immediately went on the hunt, practically popping up anywhere (name) was to flirt with him and eventually begin dating him.

So when the twenty-one year old saw his boyfriends bare thighs swished slightly by stockings and that cute skirt, (name) looked nervous at the look he gave him though... The Toman underlings who stood in position in the back garden of Toman headquarters didn't see the look as their boss being a horny bastard but instead saw it as annoyed.

To be fair, Mikey was incredibly hard to read.

"She can stay but she has to stay out of the way, we aren't responsible if she gets hurt" Draken sighed and kissed Emma's forehead as the blond girl beamed up at the tattooed man "thanks Kenny!" She said sweetly and the giant of a man grumbled but didn't say anything.

(Name) Sat with Emma quietly as they started their meeting, Emma and (name) chatting amongst themselves and working on a project, (name) explaining his half and what he was doing.

They didn't even notice the meeting end until Mikey wandered to them "oi" he said passively as (name) looked up confused and Mikey raised his hand, many members holding their breaths only for Mikey to grip (name)s neck and kiss him softly "what" Baji said confused, he was fully ready to get the cute girls number but seems Mikey got to her first.

"What's with the clothes? They look weird" he asked confused and mitsuya looked up from his laptop, working on business expenses that he will be sending to Koko later "Mikey! Don't tell a girl her clothes look weird! That's rude!"

"But (name) isn't a girl" Mikey said bluntly as he plopped beside (name) and draped himself over the other "I just made (name) wear girl clothes, he owed me a favor" Emma said sweetly "besides he looks cute! Don't judge my fashion Mikey!"

"Wait, she's a dude?" Pah said confused and (name) nodded "yeah "

"Wait why did Mikey kiss you?" Chifuyu was also confused, a group of grown ass men who ran a notorious gang and made illegal millions couldn't figure out was a relationship for the life of them.

"(Name)s my boyfriend" Mikey said bluntly, Draken connecting the dots fast.

That would explain why Mikey went to a specific apartment often.

And based on how he played with (name)s skirt...

He would be going back pretty damn soon.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff #male reader #mikey tokyo revengers #x male reader #mikey x male reader

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somerandomdudelmao · 6 months

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If you knew that cass apocalypse series would become this popular would you have changed the name of it?

Yeah. I'd probably call it something like Rise Apocalyptic series or..i dunno. People keep thinking Cass from the title is Casey or Cassandra when it's actually me haha

The original purpose of this title was just so I could easily remember it and find it via tags haha. Because...yeah you know...I thought I was making just a mini comic

#my naming skills are so literal #and I'm saying that proudly #But if I only knew back then #I would spend on that name more than one minute 👍

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ririblogsss · 12 days

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Damian and the strays

ok look we all know the de aged dani (Danny and Dan). But what if we have siblings/ triplets, and I mean what if we take them all the same age (15/16) and make them into the most powerful trio in school . I mean you have 3 good looking individuals all siblings and in the same way, they all excel in different things (Dan-world history, Dani/Ellie- science Sports, Danny physics), but they are all so easy going and charming plus they are all jacked af.

Like tell me if i'm wrong but they would be beloved maybe popular on the downlow until they do something only fentons would risk doing. For example, orchestrating that every monday at 12:30 am the fire alarms would start and lunch would be extended for an hour more. No one can prove it, but none of them have doubts either. The triplets have their own groups but they mainly hang out with each other if you see one the other 2 are close by.

Anyways i'm thinking that one day they will actually see why the Fenton siblings are observed closely by the teacher and try to make sure they don't cause mayhem. One guy, a chad of sorts, decided he wanted to pick a fight with Dante, the more violent of the siblings. Chad didn't even finish his first insult before he was slammed through the door by Danny, who was arguably the pacifist of the 3. But the student body kind of got it. The thing is no one expected Dani (preferred name Ellie) to freaking pummel the guy.

No one saw them at school again.

It went on like this: the trio would move to one school.Would play pranks on the administration and have fun. Then someone would try something on one of them and the other 2 would pummel the person into the ground. The next day they would be gone never to return. They became an urban legend in some of the schools.

Until they came to Gotham Academy when they tried their pranks a kid would come and stop them. It was getting on their nerves. All their freaking plans down the drain all because of a snobby brat that didn't know how to mind his own. Eventually they start pranking the kid instead of the school as a revenge for ruining their fun. This leads to an all out prank war between all 4 of them (Dan backstabbed Danny and Ellie first they just followed the lead).

Soon enough the 3 of them became friends with Damian (they learned his name 4 weeks after the prank war started). The school body was half convinced that Damian and the triplets were actually long lost siblings. I mean they all have black hair, anger issues and green bluish eyes. Damian knew for a fact that he wasn't related to the Fentons; a DNA test concluded this. But that didn't mean that Damian didn't perceive the triplets as family.

Damian concludes that even if they aren't adopted into the family the Fentons belong. So that's why one day Damian brings Ellie, Danny and Dante to the family reunion. Where every relative and not so relative is there. Damian is showing them around, pointing at things around the house as a mini tour, and people are starting to notice that there are 3 new faces that they have never seen before.

there are whispers like: ‘really?! AGAIN?!?’ or “WOW im gone for 5 days and he got 3 more” and even ‘Damn so black hair, teen and probably sad backstory is the type’

The triplets looked at eachother looked at Damian and smiled like starved piranhas that have just been served a pound of meat and are ready to devore. Damian reflects it with his own devilish smile.

So all four of them start saying things out of context such as:

“I'm so glad to be here now”

“Yeah same we wouldn't have survived that hell of a chamber without you Dames”

“As long as we're no longer hunted for merely existing I don't mind staying for a while”

“Good things there weren't any actual bazookas that could have gone worse”

All four knew that out of context it seemed like the 3 siblings had been hunted and captured by some unknown person and Damian had rescued them and brought them home, but in reality they were just talking about the past paintball match they had earlier that morning.

So Bruce wanted to know some more but the rhetorical bullet, and asked “Damian… who, who are these kids” Damian proceeded to scoff and say “Why our new family members, truly father, are you incompetent. This is a family reunion hence only family or perceived family is invited” Damian tried to channel his inner 10 year old self whilst trying not to laugh. Danny and Ellie were on the same boat except they made their faces look devastated with tears in their eyes and everything looked pitiful, but on the inside they were laughing their asses off. Dante feigned indifference but he had teary eyes, from trying to stop himself from hitting the floor laughing at the devastated faces around.

Danny played his act up clearing his throat “we- we can leave if I mean we didn't know, yeah Dami said it was fine but we understand” he purposely made his voice crack to show how ‘hurt’ he was.

Ellie made herself look small so she could seem self conscious and uncomfortable with the situation.

Dante solidified them with the small sniffles he let out every few seconds.

Damian was looking to the ground to avoid being read, because right now he was shaking from laughter, and it would be clear in his face but if he angled himself right (which he did) it looked like he was silently sobbing. Danny put his arm around his shoulder, also looking towards the ground, also shaking from laughter. Dante and Ellie joined in. From an outside perspective it looked like they were extremely upset not being able to be family.

Bruce panicked seeing his younger child and 3 other kids the same age all begin to cry he just blurted out “NO no that not what i meant Damian I ment their names what are their names, and does Babs have to get involved so we can have documentation”

Damian cleared his tears and looked up at his father trying not to smirk “He is Dante, that one is Dani with an I but she prefers Ellie and that lanky one is Danny” Bruce nodded and went out the room to see if he could get started on the documents.

Once Bruce was out of the room all 4 of them burst out laughing, falling into a pile some were heard wheezing, others having maniacal laughter.

Once they finally stopped and looked at the rest of the family all four of them eerily said “he won't ever believe you” And everyone in the room shuddered. This quartet was going to bring wayyyy too much mischief into the family.

(if you're wondering where jazz is. She's in college living her best life. I mean she is a highly independent person she thrives of off living alone with a clear schedule set)

—

Also i didn't put any specific names for the previous schools or the family members bc I thought it would be better for u guys to decide who witnessed the beginning of the end.

#dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp crossover #Damian only started this #as a way to stop the triplets from becoming rouges #The tripplets love chaos #Im 100% sure Bruce will absolutely do everything in his power to avoid heart felt convos #Cass was there and and knew abt the act but didn't say anything. She's taking them to the theater to see heathers

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samandcolbyownme · 7 months

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Summary: Request on Wattpad - “Could u write on where y/n is a friend of Sam and colby and they invite her to a party with the intention to seduce her at said party, so the whole night they flirt with y/n and tease and touch her. When they notice that she's all riled up and confused they invite her upstairs and shit gets freakydeakey, like pure filth and name calling and stuffAnd they mostly focus on her but like that thing where they're like "you got your fun, now it's our turn to get our fun" I hope it makes sense”

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, alcohol drinking, pot smoking, unprotected sex with both Sam and Colby, creampie, choking, biting, sexual inuendos, praising, dirty talk, heavy teasing, filth filth and filth

Since Halloween is coming up… I’ll do a costume party.. you’re welcome so there is slight references to the devil and other stuff like that.

Word Count: 5.7k | not really edited yet

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You put in your headband that had your white feathery halo attached to the top of it and looked in the mirror, "Hey, mick? You almost ready?"

You applied your red lipstick, pressing your lips together a few times before leaning back up, "They guys told us not to be late."

"The guys can wait, not like our lives revolve around them anyway." Mick says walking into the room.

Your life actually did revolve around them, you liked them. Both. A lot. But no one really knows it. They really can't. So you play it off, "You're obviously not as excited for this party as I am, so what gives?"

She lays on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, "Rough day, I guess. I need to get drunk, so.." she jumps up, her tinted pigtails bouncing as she does, "I'm excited for alcohol."

Your phone dings and you pull it out from your purse, smiling as you see it's a selfie that Sam sent of him and Colby, Hurry up and get here. We can't wait to see what costume we'll be taking off of you tonight

You roll your eyes, replying, Don't threaten me with a good time, with three added laughing faces.

It was always joke, after joke, after joke. You just wish they would finally give in to you being their girlfriend, hell, you'd even settle for being their little play thing at this point.

Colby pops up in the group chat, only one way to find out if he's joking. Get your ass hereeee!!

You bit your lip, on my way.

You were getting your hopes up, at this point you were excited for alcohol, too. But then again, alcohol, with them looking as hot as they do, probably not a good mix.

But as Colby said, there's only one way to really find out.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You arrive at the house, and it's absolutely decked out. Orange lights, pumpkins lit on each step leading up to the door, and of course the music is loud as shit.

"They really go all out, don't they?" Mick says leaning into you as you walk up the steps. You laugh slightly and look at her, "They hunt ghosts for a living, Mick. Of course they do."

She laughs and shakes her head, "Yeah, you're right." You make your way to the door that's open and has people flowing in and out of it.

"I'm going to go find a drink, you want one?" She yells to you as she looks around. You nod, "yes please and actually mix it with something."

She laughs as she walks away and you stand there, dressed in your white lingerie, mini skirt, and heels as you try to find someone you actually care to talk to.

Your small angel wings run against your arms and your heels click against the balloon filled floor as you walk.

"Hey angel."

You smirk, you'd know that voice any day, "Sam." You say turning around. He holds out an alcohol filled blood bag, "Thirsty?"

You slide it from his grasp and look at it, then back to him dressed up as a vampire, "Fitting. Very fitting." He smirks and looks you up and down and before he says anything, Colby walks up behind you, "Are you lost?"

You turn and look at him confused, "Am I what?"

"Heaven is a long, long way from here." Colby smirks slowly and your face softens as you laugh, "Ah, that's a good one, Colby. Thank you."

He looks you up and down, "Damn." He glances at Sam, "fitting isn't it?"

You look at Sam, "Huh?" He shakes his head, "Don't worry about that right now, sweetheart."

"Have you guys been drinking already?" You raise your eyebrows and look between them. They both smile and look at each other, nodding while they laugh.

"I need to catch up." You mumble as you push your way through the crowded house, trying to even catch a glimpse of Mick.

"Finally. I've been waiting for my drink." You sigh as you rest your hands on the counter, the bag Sam gave you still in your grasp.

Mick nods towards it, "where did that come from?"

You look at her and look down, "Oh. Yeah, Sam gave this to me." You shrug and toss it down on the counter, thinking about it quickly before opening it and drinking it.

"Oh my god, what the hell is in these?" You make a face and quickly chase it with a shot of something that isn't alcohol.

"That is cranberry juice and vodka." Sam says walking up beside you to make himself another drink. You look over at him, fighting back a smile, "You forgot the cranberry juice."

Mick hands you a drink before she walks away, and to your surprise, it's actually mixed very well, "Thanks."

Sam gives you the side eye with a smirk, "Lightweight."

You want to grab him and kiss him. His smirk drives you insane, along with Colby's.

And speaking of the devil, or to be specific, demon, "So what time do you have to be back in heaven?"

"Are these going to continue all night long?" You spin around, resting your lower back against the counter as you stand between them.

"Depends on how long that costume stays on for." Colby winks at you before walking away with Sam. You watch them as they move away, looking back at you with smirks on their lips.

You bit down on your cup to keep yourself from any embarrassment that might leave your lips. You quickly finish that one and spin around, their eyes still on you, as you pour yourself a drink.

You find Mick, grabbing her and dragging her over to the beer pong table, "Let's get this party started."

"Who wants to play us in pong?" Mick yells, getting almost everyone's attention.

"We will." A tall guy dressed as the joker says as his friend who is dressed as Batman stands next to him, eyeing you up and down.

"Isn't that perfect?" Mick says looking the joker up and down, "Harley Quinn, nice to meet'cha."

You take a long sip of your drink, turning towards the table and grabbing one of the pong balls, mumbling quietly, "Let's go."

You turn to Batman and hand him the other ball, "We'll shoot for first shot, yeah?"

"Anything for you, angel." He winks behind his mask and he walks over to the other side. Honestly, you loved it when Colby made the angel jokes, but from anyone else, you wanted to puke.

You shoot first, sinking your shot and Batman misses.

"We go first." You get your ball out of the cup and joker hands Mick hers and she giggles, already tipsy, "Thank you, Mr. joker."

You roll your eyes and you go to shoot. You feel both sets of eyes on you, and it wasn't from Batman or joker.

It was from the demon and the vampire who are sitting on the stairs watching your movements. You tried not to let them under your skin, blocking them out, and you sink your shot, Mick's following right behind hours.

"Two in one. We win." You hold your hands up, "Boom."

"What the hell?" Batman says and the crowd cheers for you and Mick. You glance up, Sam and Colby smiling and cheering for you as well.

"Rematch." Joker says extending his arm out, "But we get first shots this time."

You motion to the table, "All yours."

Joker sinks his, Batman doesn't. So you and Mick drink.

You and her shoot, both making it, so you get balls back. Soon enough, you knock them down to two cups, balls back again, and you win the game. You lean forward, resting your palms flat on the table, "Wanna go again?"

Batman tilts his head, "We can do this all night, angel."

And there it is, the ick.

You lean up, "I'm just going to get another drink quick. Mick, go for me." You walked away, heading over to the counter where the alcohol sits.

"So, I take it there's no curfew in heaven, huh?" Colby says walking up beside you. He leans down, resting his elbows and forearms on the countertop and you smile, "Actually, instead of being home at ten, I have to be home at 11."

Colby looks over at the clock on the stove, "looks like you got plenty of time to have fun then." He winks and rests his hand on your lower back as he stands up, "Find me later, we can have a dance before you descend back up to the pearly gates."

He stops and leans back in, "Sam too, can't make him too jealous."

You turn around, ready to ask him what he means, but he's already talking to other people. Your eyes move to the stairs and Sam is sitting there staring at you with a smile. He waves to you and you hold your hand up, in a very confused state.

They couldn't be serious. You shake your head, pouting your cup full of liquor before walking back over to the pong table.

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

You stumble over to the counter, resting your cup down as you debate on getting another cup. As you go to reach for the almost empty bottle, a voice makes you stop, "You sure you want more?"

You turn around and Sam's body is inches away from yours, "I feel like I kinda need it."

His hand reaches out to play with the crystal beads on your mini skirt, "You know this doesn't cover much right?"

You smirk, "Yeah, it's more for decoration, really." You look up at him, "You'd only know that if you were looking."

"Can't help but stare at the angel who decided to bless our party with her beautiful appearance." He reaches around you grabbing your cup and finishing what you had left in it.

"Hey." You whine out and take your empty cup back, "Not nice."

"I'm a vampire babe, who said I was nice?" He winks, sliding his hand slowly off of your body as he walks away, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

"Babe?" You question to yourself and turn back around slowly. You just wanted to be drunk at this point, you couldn't handle another 'joke' from them, at least if you were hammered you might at least laugh.

You perk your head up, remember what Colby said about finding him for a dance. You smirked slowly as you made your way around, asking if anyone has seen Colby, having no luck.

You make your way out back by the pool area, looking around before you see him sitting with a few other people. They're all passing around a blunt and you watch as Colby takes a hit, tilting his head back to slowly let the smoke roll out.

He brings his head back up, smirking as he sees you. You go to turn away but he calls your name, getting the other people to as well.

You walk over, freezing when you see Sam lean forward from behind the wall, "Look who it is." Sam smirks up at you, "Hey, angel, what can we do for ya."

You smile slightly, feeling awkward as you stand there with everyone's eyes on you, "I was looking for Colby, actually."

Colby raises his eyebrows, "Oh, shit." He smirks and hands the blunt to Corey, "What's up?"

"I need to talk to you." Your eyes move onto Sam. His eyes are squinted as he watches Colby get up and walk over to you. His hand rests right below your wings as he leads you back inside, "What can I do for you?"

"You said about a dance, well I'm here to give it to you." You stop and turn to him and he looks you up and down, eyes meeting yours, "That all you're going to give?"

You take a deep breath, huffing as you push past him and make your way to the downstairs bathroom. Colby follows behind you, "Hey, wait. Slow down."

You glance back at him, shaking your head as you push the door open. He quickly stops you from shutting it and pushes his way in, "I thought you wanted to dance?"

You drop your arms with a sigh, hands slapping your bare thighs, "I-I.." you groan, "Colby." You lay your hands on your face, "I like you, okay? And I like Sam. A lot."

He smirks but doesn't say anything.

After staring at him for a few seconds, you scoff, "Is that a, you don't like me back, because if you don't then I sho-" you go to walk out but he wraps his arm around the front if you and pushes you against the counter, "Did I say I didn't like you back?"

His lips are inches from yours and you've never had a stronger urge to kiss him than right now.

He leans his head back, shaking it slightly with a smile, "Sam will get jealous."

"What the fuck does that even mean? You guys are so weird when it comes to me, I thought I made it pretty clea-"

Colby leans in, pressing his lips to yours, "That's all you're going to get for right now."

"Wh-"

"It's very ironic you dressed as an angel, you know that?" His voice cuts you off, "Dressing up as one of the most pure things in the world, and yet.. you really aren't that much of an angel, are you?"

You shake your head, completely captivated by him and he lets out a low chuckle, "How can you expect to be an angel when you want both of us inside of you?"

His words make you grip his slightly undone black button up, "Colby.." you whimper out and he blows out air, "We should probably get out there.. you know before Sam comes and busts down the door."

"Wait so-"

"Just relax for a little bit and have fun, babe. You deserve it."

He steps back, releasing your hips from his grasp, "Come on, you owe me a dance." He bites his lip as he pulls you to him as he opens the door.

You stop, jumping slightly as you see Sam leaning against the wall across the small hallway, "What's going on in here?"

"Don't worry, man." Colby walks up to him, whispering something into his ear as he grabs his shoulder. A smile slowly grows on Sam's face, "Alright."

You look between them and Sam walks over to you, "Find me when you're done dancing with Colby."

He walks away, making his way to the alcohol counter and Colby wraps his arm around your waist, "Come on."

You make your way to the dance floor as someone puts on Dance (A$$) by Big Shawn. Colby yells along with everyone else and you get right into it.

Colby's hands pressing on your thighs as he grinds into you. He spins you around to face him, pulling you closer. You close your eyes, tilting your head back as you all yell out, "stop..." you look at Colby and you both smirk and say, "Now make that motherfucker hammertime like.."

You start dancing with him again, and soon enough, Sam makes his way in and you dance with him, like you were doing with Colby.

You turn around, grinding your ass on Sam as Colby holds you from the front.

"This what you wanted?" Sam asks lowly into your ear. You nod as you tilt your head back onto his shoulder and look at Colby, "Uh huh."

Sam chuckles lowly into your ear at your response, "Well prove that this little costume doesn't mean anything." His hand slides down between your legs that are on either side of Colby's leg.

You whimper out, worried that people will see and Colby reads you and leans in, "They're all too drunk to care, babe."

Sam presses his fingers hard to your clit and you grind down onto his hand that rests on Colby's, "You put on such an innocent facade, but.." Sam clicks his tongue, "We both know you're more of a devil than a saint."

You nod, completely giving into them, but that wasn't enough.

"Catch you in a bit, angel." Sam moves his hand away and steps away as the song ends. Colby grips your chin between his thumb and the side of his pointer finger, "Told ya."

They walk away, leaving you flustered on the dance floor, bodies bump into you as you stand there in a shocked state.

"Oh my god." Mick says walking up to you. You turn your attention to her, in hopes she didn't just see what happened, "What? What happened?"

"That fucking joker is macking on another Harley Quinn." She pouts, obviously drunk, "Fuck him. Let's dance please."

You weren't sure if you could, but you didn't really have a choice, plus, it wouldn't hurt to prove them right with what they think.

Innocent.

Please. You've went into buildings with them when there was a high chance of getting caught. You summon demons with them, you are far from innocent, or so you thought.

The more you thought about what they meant, it just hurt your head, so you let the music drown it out, take over.

Soon you're dancing as close as you can with Mick.

Your body rolling with here, you guys were the life of the party, until you realized that the people you were dancing for aren't there anymore.

You step back, huffing as you go get another drink. As you're drinking it, you feel a very familiar presence move behind you and lean down, "How about you meet us upstairs, hmm?"

Sam takes your cup, downing the little bit you had left, "This way, angel." He runs his hand down your arm and pulls you with him.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask confused, unsure if your dream was about to become a reality, "Sam?"

He glances back at you, smirking as he wraps his arm around your waist, "a different kind of heaven, sweetheart."

You bit your lip as you're walked into his room. He closes the door and you feel a hand slide up your chest and slowly and gently wrap around your neck, "Glad you could make it. You're way past curfew anyway."

You look at Sam, who's standing there watching Colby whisper to you as his grip on your neck grows tighter, "Looks like you'll be joining us in hell, won't ya?"

He walks you over to the bed, making you get on your knees, your back still pressed against his chest. Sam moves to his knees in front of you, brushing hair from your face, "Do you like it when Colby has his hand around your neck?"

You try to nod, but fail, so you whimper out a quiet, "Yes."

"Your innocent look makes me want to take you downstairs so every time can hear just how much of a whore for us you actually are." Sam traces your bottom lip with his thump and you part them.

His thumb slowly slides in between your lips and you close them around it, swirling your tongue and his own lips part slightly as he lets out a quiet gasp, "See this, Colby? Fuck.."

"I can see right through her act, Sam." Colby leaning, nipping your ear, "The way she looks at you. The way I catch her staring at me.. I know she wants to be our little play thing."

"Please?" You whimper out and reach out for Sam, but Colby stops you, "You've had your fun tonight, now it's our turn."

He lets go of your neck and pushes you to Sam. Your hands rest on his shoulders as his hands tightly grip your waist, "We were never joking, y/n."

He leans in to press his lips against your neck and you close your eyes, "Mm." He leans back, gently grazing his fake fangs over your skin, "We've always wanted you."

Colby leans in, kissing the other side of your neck, his demon horns rubbing against your head, "We've always talked about this."

You reach a hand up to lay it on the back of Colby's head, moaning out quietly as he bites down.

"Just never knew the right time." Sam leans back and scans over your face, "Until we seen you walk through that door in this lustful little costume, knowing exactly what you were doing."

He leans in, moving his lips with yours in a slow fashion.

"You know what you do to us, don't you, baby?" Colby pulls you away from Sam and makes you look at him, raising his eyebrows, indicating he wants you to respond.

"Yes." You nod and he tilts his head, "Yes what? Use your words, baby."

"I know what I do to you both." You look into his eyes and he smirks, "Tell us." You bite your lip taking a deep breath as you let out a soft moan at Sam's hand on your thinly covered pussy.

"I tease you." You admit, "I turn you on."

"That you fucking do." Sam says leaning in closer, "tell us how you want us to treat you.”

"L-like a whore." You whimper out as Sam slips his fingers between your costume and skin, "Is that what you want?"

Colby unzips your body suit as you nod, "Yes, yes. Please." You moan as Sam slips two fingers into you.

"Tell us how." Colby slips your straps down your shoulders, making sure to leave your wings on you. His hands slide to your boobs, kneading them.

"Fuck me." You tilt your head back to rest onto his shoulder, "Use me."

"Planned on it, angel." Sam whispers as he pulls his fingers out, "Lay back."

You lay back and their hands roam up and down your body slowly, "Should we take this off?" Sam glances up at Colby and he nods, "she's playing with satan's houseboys tonight."

His words make your stomach do a flip and your eyes move constantly between them as they take off your white bodysuit, leaving you naked in nothing but your wings and halo.

"Sam.." you whimper out as you reach for him with one hand, "Colby.." as you reach for him with your other, "Please?"

They both move to either side of you, Colby's hand slowly working its way in between your legs. Sam hooks his arm under your leg, holding it open as Colby rubs his fingers up and down your needy cunt, "She's so fucking wet."

"She probably always is for us." Sam leans in, rubbing his nose gently up and down your cheek, "Aren't ya?"?

You nod, "Always."

Colby dips his fingers in, slowly curling them as he watches your eyes flutter closed, "Keep them open."

Your eyes snap open and you fight to keep them open as he thrusts his fingers in and out. Sam's hand slides over, pressing little circles onto your clit, "You gonna cum for us?"

You nod, arching your back, "Yes, yes yes."

"She's such a little slut." Colby says lowly was he leans down to take your one nipple into his mouth. Sam follows his actions with your other one, causing your brain to become fuzzy.

You gasp, laying your hands on the back of their heads, moaning as you clench around Colby's fingers, "Fuckfuck, y-yes."

"There ya go, baby." Sam moves to kiss up your neck, leaving a trail of tiny hickies to prove to everyone that you're really not an angel after all.

Colby pulls his hand so he can stand up, "I want that mouth of hers right now." Colby undoes his pants, pushing them down to get rid of them.

You watch as he moves over, pulling you up to you're on your knees. He leans round you, looking at Sam, "You want her on your face?"

"Fuck, come here." He lays back, gripping your hips to guide you over to where he wants you. Colby moves down by Sam's legs, gripping your chin so he can tilt your head up, "Sit down, whore."

You bite your lip, smirking slightly as you let your hips rest down. Your nails dig into the fabric of Sam's pants as his tongue slips into you.

Colby strokes his cock a few times as he watch your face scrunch up with the pleasure from being eaten out by Sam, "You're so fucking sexy. Now open those slutty little lips for me."

Your lips part, a moan escaping as you look up at him, waiting for his cock to slip past them. His own lip pulls between his teeth, muffling a moan as he slides his cock in as far as it will go.

"Have at it, angel." He winks down at you. You moan against him as you bring your right hand up, wrapping it around his cock. You start to bob your head, moaning out as Sam pulls your hips down to him more.

Colby brushes hair from your face, holding the sides of your head with his hands, "That's it, baby. Fuck.." Colby tilts his head down, watching you devour his cock.

You clench around Sam's tongue, your moans muffled by Colby's cock as you cum.

"Y/n.." Colby moans out, "Fuck, fuck. Cum on his face, that's it. Good girl." Your eyes move up to him, indicating that you liked it.

He smirks, moaning lowly as he shakes his head slightly, "Fuck, angel. You keep looking at me like that and I'll cum." He pulls his cock out and moves down to press his lips to yours, "We don't want that yet."

You reach up, grabbing his shirt as Sam gets you to cum again.

"Fuck, again? Sam must really be doing a number on you, huh?" Colby chuckles as he kisses you, swallowing your moan with ease.

"Fuck." Sam pulls away with a sigh, "Colby, you need to taste her."

"Do you want me between those legs next?" Colby tilts your head up to look at him and you nod, "Yes, Colby."

He smirks, "lay down."

You move off of Sam and lay on your back across the bed so your head is handing slightly off the edge. Colby moves in between your legs, pushing them open and not wasting another second.

His lips attach to your clit, sucking as your neck arches off the bed, "Oh fuck." You grip the blanket below you, pulling as Colby eats you out.

Sam watches as he gets himself ready then steps towards you, tapping the head of his cock of your lips.

You open your eyes, moaning out as he glides his cock into your mouth. He groans and lays a hand on your head, "Oh, angel."

Colby digs his fingers into your hips as he groans against you. You dig your heels into his back as you clench around his tongue.

"Be a good little slut and cum for Colby." Sam says, "We know you want to."

Sam's words push you over the edge, spilling yourself onto Colby. Your moans are muffled as Sam's cock is pushed and held into your mouth.

Your eyes roll back and your chest is rising and falling quickly.

"Again, wouldn't be fair that you came for me twice and him once." Sam chuckles but it's quickly turns into a moan as you hallow out your cheeks.

"F-fuck.." he gasps and reaches down to play with your boobs, kneading them and pinching and pulling at your nipples.

"Cum for Colby, whore." Sam's voice is low and raspy, you can tell his trying not to cum himself, "Fuck." He pulls his cock out, bending down to kiss you as you finally reach that second orgasm from Colby.

"You want first go?" Colby looks at Sam as he crawls up your body. Your eyes move to Sam and his meet yours, "I'd be honored to ruin her first."

Your heart skips a beat and Colby leans down, kissing you. You moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue before he stands up.

You feel Sam grab your ankles and flip you around so you're on your stomach. He brings your hips up, teasingly sliding his cock up and down your achingly wet cunt.

Colby moves down to your eye level, "I want everyone at this party to hear those pretty little slutty sounds.

You nod, gasping as Sam pushes his cock into you fully. His grip on your hips is harsh, "Oh shit." He slowly pulls out and slowly pushes back in, feeling how well you hug his cock with the walls of your pussy, "shit."

Your head falls down, resting on the bed as you arch your back, pushing your hips up and back, "Fuck, Sam."

"That feel good?" Colby asks, "let everyone know."

You let out a loud moan, lifting your head up to look at Colby as Sam rails into you from behind, "Fuck." You practically scream, already clenching his cock, "Oh my god."

Colby chuckles, cupping your cheeks with his hands, "Let Sam know how good it feels, angel.”

Sam groans, pulling your hips back to meet his as he pushes fully inside, resting there, "Tell me, baby."

"You feel so good." You say quickly.

"Louder." Sam and Colby say in unison and Sam starts to thrust again, a smirk plastered on his lips.

"Sam!" You scream out, "you feel so good."

"Cum for him, then it's my turn with you." Colby leans in, slowly making out with you, "you're being such a good little slut."

You push your hips back, rocking them as you cum, moans being ripped from your lips left and right, "Fuck, fuck fuck."

Sam slows his thrusts down, pulling out as he tells you to turn around. You sluggishly pull away from Colby and spin around to face Sam.

You feel Colby's hands slide up your legs and over your achy slit before gripping your hips. You take Sam's cock into your mouth before he can tell you.

"Good fucking girl, angel." He moans out breathless, "Fucking hell."

Colby moans deeply as he slips his cock into you, "Shit, I wanna cum already."

You moan around Sam's cock and he nods, "Uh huh."

Colby quickly builds up into a punishing pace. You let out choked moans as your eyes roll back. Sam pulls his cock out, handing down to eye level like Colby did, "Tell em. Let them hear how good we make you feel, angel."

Sam bushes hair from your face, and lifts your head so he can wrap his hand around your neck, "Tell Colby, baby. Tell us how much of a slut you are for us."

"I'm your slut." You whimper out and Sam shakes his head, "Louder, angel."

You swallow as Sam's grip on your throat tightens, "I'm your fucking slut. Whore. Fucking shit, Colby you feel so good."

Colby groans, "Fuck, again. Say it again."

"I-I'm your whore." You lock eyes with Sam, "I'm your fucking slut."

"That a girl." Sam presses his lips to your forehead and looks at Colby who nods at him.

"We're going to cum together, okay." Sam rubs your cheek, "hold it for us until we say."

You nod and gasp as he lets go of your throat, standing up to put his cock back into your mouth. Both Sam and Colby are thrusting into you, Colby harder than Sam.

You're a mess between both of them, wanting to collapse but you're trying so hard to hold it together.

"I'm filling this pussy. Sam can tomorrow." Colby groans and you moan around Sam's cock.

"Fuck, colbs, I don't think I can last any longer." Sam groans, "Fuck, she's so fucking good."

"Wish we would have done this sooner." Colby moans and his thrusts get sloppy, along with Sam's. You feel their cocks twitching inside of you and you taste Sam as he runs down your tongue and down your throat.

You suck him clean, moaning together as he pulls out. Colby pushes his cock in deeper here pulling out, "Fuck, is she okay?"

Your body falls onto the bed slowly as your chest rises and falls fast, "Mhm."

"Need you to tell us, angel." Sam whispers as he runs a hand over your forehead. You opened your eyes and look at him, "I've always wanted this. I'm great."

Sam smirks and looks at Colby, "Think we should call it a night?"

Colby shrugs, "I mean, if she's up here, I'm up here."

Sam agrees, "You're more scary than I am so you go kick these people out." Colby chuckles as he slips his pants back on, "Already on it."

Sam works at getting you cleaned up, taking off your wings and halo and setting them down with your bodysuit, "Did such a good job." He presses his lips to your forehead.

"Never knew if you guys were always joking around like you usually do." You whisper as you shift around in the bed, finding a comfortable position.

He shrugs, "At first it was, but then we got to talking and we both like you.. and we know you like us, we picked up in that a while ago."

You laugh slightly, body starting to ache, "Well I'm happy that it happened."

He nods and sits down next to you, "Us, too."

Colby walks back in, "Alright, where were we?"

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

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livingemkayde · 10 months

Text

waterfront

neighbor!joel miller/dbf!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: Rated 18+. CONSIDER THIS YOUR FUCKING COMMUNITY LABEL LOL. Minors please dni. Smut. unprotected p in v. age gap. Pet names. Dirty talk. Dom!joel. Oblivious ass reader's dad. Not proof read one bit (per usual).

a/n: thank you so much for the recent love. you guys are honestly so funny - COMMENT ASK REQUEST PLEASE INTERACT WITH ME IM SO LONELY ON HERE. this lil mini series has really pushed me to write despite some…things (and by things—i actually have been getting a shit ton of hate on my din fic for some weird reason?? so im really happy this dbf corner of tumblr is very accepting cuz that was really making me feel…SAD LMFAO). also do you guys picture joel in this fic as game joel or hbo joel - i wanna know. please enjoy this token of my gratitude as always.

wc: 4.5k

this is apart of my small dbf!joel mini series, read the previous parts here:

part i part ii

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars. “That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.”

“Sweetie? Have you seen the sunblock?”

“Yeah dad, in the back bathroom!” you yell back from your room.

It’s honestly unbelievable.

Packing.

You’re packing.

For a weekend getaway at some beach house property one of Joel’s client’s offered him for the weekend.

Joel’s client.

Joel Miller.

Who got down on his knees for you at your graduation barbecue. Who fingered you in the front seat of his pick-up truck when your dad was looking for you.

Who refused to talk to you after that. Not like you were trying anyways. This had to stop. Especially since you and Liam have been talking more and he’s…nice. Boring—sure. But he’s what’s good for you.

He even got you a job at some hardware store on the other side of town.

Liam was keeping you company—no—keeping you busy. But not enough to stop the incessant thoughts of your middle aged neighbor who is—even worse—probably your dad’s only close friend.

You tried to keep your distance. For your sake and Joel’s. You don’t want to know what’s going on in his mind anymore. All you know is he continually runs laps around yours.

You can’t shake how he looked at the barbecue. How the sea of people parted for him like he was Moses, greeting him with strong handshakes and acrylic nails wrapping around his bicep. But even worse, you can’t stop thinking about how through all those people—he found your eyes first.

You tried to convince yourself that maybe Joel was thinking the same thing you were. That this—whatever it is—was actually fucking ridiculous and had to stop.

Because it did have to stop. But it never felt ridiculous to you, as much as you will yourself to believe.

You tried to convince yourself that much when your hand was down your pants in the middle of the night. Something sounding a lot like Joel’s name on the tip of your tongue as you made yourself come.

You aren’t sure if your dad has seen much of him either—saying something about how he was booked through the fourth of July weekend with a huge project he was working on with his brother.

That’s why you were shocked when your dad came up to your room with a grin explaining he counted you in on the weekend getaway with Joel, Sarah, and the two of you.

You were excited to see more of Sarah — she had really grown up in the time you were away. But with Sarah comes Joel, and you aren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or anticipation at that thought.

A half a day after your dad told you to get packing, you’re in the backseat of Joel’s truck, Sarah at your side, while she talks everyone's ear off about something. You aren’t really paying attention because Joel can’t stop stealing glances at you in the rear view mirror—and let's be honest. You can’t stop either.

“—so then she said to me that it was my fault. I mean can you believe that?” Sarah slaps your arm gently while finishing her story.

She looks around the car for approval and the dads just shrug their shoulders. You give her a sympathetic look.

“Sorry Sarah, sounds crazy,” you say, grabbing her hand. You—honest to god—tried to pay attention but there were so many names thrown out you couldn’t keep up. It didn’t help that the man in the driver's seat kept you up at night—almost every night—since the barbecue.

“I know! But then Jackson was like okay with it so whatever,” she gives you a knowing look, finishing her story—don’t say anything else because my dad’s here.

“Boys,” your dad murmurs to Joel under his breath, but you catch it.

You also catch Joel shaking his head in response, letting out a huff and a—

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

You meet his eye through the rear view mirror and drop his gaze quickly. His knuckles go white on the steering wheel.

You think you’re almost off the hook and maybe can get some rest but Sarah lets out the first of many—

“Are we almost there yet?”

Four more of those and you arrive at a secluded beach house on the coast. Joel pulls up to the back of the house, you can see the deck which leads down to the beach. Sarah and your dad hop out of the truck hastily—excited to see the house, and enter through the back door. It leaves you and Joel in the car together. Alone, for a few uncomfortable seconds until he finally speaks.

“You alright?”

It throws you for a loop. Joel Miller asking if you’re okay? You must be dying. You look at him through the mirror, an eyebrow raising.

“‘M fine,” you reply back, monotone.

“Do you wanna talk?”

Another surprise.

“There’s nothing to talk about. You made that clear,” you huff, putting an emphasis on you so maybe he can start to feel an ounce of what you do.

He gets out of the car but you don’t move from your position. Your dad and Sarah have disappeared into the house, undoubtedly claiming the best bedrooms and rifling through the owner’s things.

He opens your door, his hand hanging off the top of it while his other braces himself on the car near your head. He dips his head closer to you, taking up the entirety of the door frame.

“You gonna be a brat this whole trip?” His drawl, rich and velvety, almost tricks you into leaning up to kiss him, but you snap out of it from his words. The name shouldn’t make you clench your thighs together like it does. You opt for anger over letting him see what he does to you.

“I’m the brat?” You bite back. He’s not going to do this again. If it’s your last dying wish, Joel Miller will learn a lesson this trip. For leaving you high and dry. For being a fucking asshole, just like you told him at the barbecue a couple days ago.

“You think parading that lil boy ‘round here s��okay?”

“Again with Liam? It’s not any of your business.”

You look at him. Really look at him—and there’s a certain emotion behind his eyes you can’t place. Like he’s biting his tongue, and you know he is.

“What, Joel? God,” you say, exasperated.

“Nothin’—I—” he pauses like he’s trying to collect his thoughts before speaking. Then he says something that surprises you—like maybe he really does care about you and what happened in his truck.

“He make you laugh?”

You stare at him, shocked, and you can’t help but soften your gaze. You feel like bursting into a puddle of tears—but what’s even worse—you feel like running into his arms.

“He doesn’t make me cry.”

He looks down at that. Like he’s defeated.

“I told you I care,” he throws his words back in your face. From when he had his tongue buried inside you.

You roll your eyes.

“What? You think I want it like this?” He continues when you don’t respond.

“I have no fucking idea what you want.”

“I want to not be sneaking around behind my friend’s back. Your dad’s back.”

“Didn’t stop you before.”

He pushes off the car at that, putting his hands on his hips while scoffing to himself. You think you catch him mumbling something and before you can bite your tongue you urge him to speak up.

“Insane,” he grunts.

“Sorry?”

“I said you drive me fuckin’ insane.”

You pause at that. Partially because his tone suggests it’s not the typical insane but like he can’t stay away from you. Like you drive him up the walls. Like he can’t stop thinking about you. Maybe even the kind of insane he makes you feel. Maybe it's the same thing he does to you. And you didn’t know you did…anything to Joel.

“That’s my job,” you reply sarcastically instead of saying something stupid—or something you regret.

You break his gaze—looking down to unlatch your seatbelt. When your hand goes to click the button, you stay fiddling with it; the latch fails to come out of the buckle.

“‘S jammed. Need to get a repair,” he reaches over you to unlatch it himself.

But you don’t get your hand out of the way quick enough and your fingers meet over the button.

He pauses, you both do. The contact makes your head spin.

You think he’s going to pull away. An apology is already braced on your tongue but instead of moving or retracting, he tentatively rubs your hand with his thumb instead, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature.

He’s in your space, and he smells like Joel, and you don’t think the two of you have ever shared a more intimate moment. Not even when his mouth was between your legs.

You look up at him, hesitant, because you aren’t sure what’s going to be looking back. But he stares at you, his eyes soft. Joel looks down to your lips and back up to your eyes. His brow twitches a bit. You let out soft pants—the peaks of your breasts threaten to ghost against his chest.

He looks at your lips again and inches closer, starting to duck his head.

“‘M sorry,” he grumbles in a low, dangerous drawl that shoots right up your spine.

You don’t think it’s a phrase he says often. You’ve never heard it. It sounds foreign on his lips, especially when they’re inching closer to yours.

“For what?” You squeak out, a breath cutting through your words.

“Everythin’.”

Your eyes urge him to continue.

“Thought I could stay away f’m you.”

He gets closer.

“Thought it was the right thing.”

You shake your head.

“But I don’t think I can stay away.”

“Don’t stay away. Don’t go,” you plead with him and shake your head. All of your plans to make him pay have honestly gone out the window. But when he says things like that and he really—honest to god—means them? You know you’re fucked.

“'M here.”

You close your eyes at his words and will your tears back when they close. All you can smell is Joel and all you can feel is his hand coming up to loosely wrap around your throat, the curve of his palm hugging your collar bone.

“Look at me.” In a blink, you do.

He’s closer, if possible.

And he kisses you. It’s the first time he’s ever kissed you. It’s not tentative, or aggressive.

This kiss feels like the real apology. Not him on his knees for you and then ignoring you after. He kisses like he’s willing you to forgive him. You know he’s not good with words—that’s why this kiss feels like the heartbreak that had settled in your chest is scattering. It feels like your old fantasies and butterflies breaching the surface are making you moan into his mouth.

He kisses you like a man starved, but also like he’s scared of messing up again.

It feels fucking good—he feels fucking good.

His hand on your throat lengthens your neck to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his bicep and squeeze the life out of him.

His other hand pulls at the hem of your shirt and almost ghosts the skin of your stomach but the sound of a door slamming snaps you both out of it. Joel turns to see Sarah pushing out of the patio door with her back turned towards you, carrying towels and a cooler. He quickly unbuckles your seatbelt with dexterous fingers, helping you out of the car.

You act like you were helping him unload the flatbed when Sarah turns around—a big smile cast on her face.

“Get your bikini on! Let’s go!” She looks at you and nods towards the ocean over her stack of beach supplies.

“Alright, alright, I’m going.”

You hustle into the house with a duffle slung over your shoulder. You can see your dad in the kitchen rifling through the pantry—the cooler for drinks and food abandoned on the floor near the fridge.

You find a bathroom and change into your swimsuit quickly. You don’t miss the wet spot on your panties. From a kiss nonetheless. You’re beginning to think you’re way more fucked than either you or Joel like to believe.

You rush out onto the patio. Sarah is probably shoulder deep in the water and it’s way too fucking hot to be sitting under the sun without taking a dip. You haven’t been to a nice beach like this in a really long time. You don’t remember the last time you went on vacation.

This is nice.

Joel is being way too…nice.

You pass him on the way to the beach where you see Sarah jumping through the water. He looks at you, subtly. Out of the corner of his eye. You try to avoid his gaze and hide your blush but you can feel his burning eyes shift to the back of your head as you give him a small smile in passing.

“Dad! C’mon let's go!” Sarah yells from the water. You look to see Joel staring back at you—you drop his eye when your dad busts through the door.

“‘N a minute!” Joel grumbles as he throws his duffle over his shoulder, carting in a crate of barbecue things for the weekend.

Your flip flops splat on the deck as you break into a small jog down to where Sarah is. She smiles at you as you run into the water. The two of you playing in the salty spring like teenagers—well she is—you aren’t.

You can see your dad and Joel settle on beach chairs some yards away from the shoreline. They sport a couple beers and talk amongst themselves while watching you and Sarah play in the water.

You catch Joel’s eye a couple times. He even comes down and throws around a football with your dad. He splashes and teases you all day.

When the sun finally extends down to the horizon and the water turns orange from its light, Sarah tells you she’s beat and basically hobbles back over to the dads on the beach chairs. She slumps down onto the one next to Joel, you move towards them as well, trying not to blush because you know Joel is looking at you before you meet his eyes.

“Tired?” Joel asks, not to you or Sarah in particular, but it falls on you—Sarah already asleep on the beach chair.

“Exhausted.” You plop down on the chair beside your dad, taking a towel and drying your hair off before moving to the rest of your body.

“Want dinner? I’ll make my burgers,” your dad inquires, beginning to stand and take the beers with him.

“Sounds good dad.” You stand and wrap the towel around your body. “Need a shower.”

You try to wake Sarah up gently, she grumbles and stalks off to the house, you, trailing behind her. She kicks her flip flops off at the entrance and moves to the couch in the living room. She’s back asleep before you get the chance to enter the door.

Your dad moves to the kitchen, you don’t know where Joel went. Maybe you left him back on the beach. You move to take a cold shower, the small tug in your stomach grew to be quite big when you caught him staring at your exposed skin on the beach.

When you get upstairs, you enter your designated bedroom. You smile when you realize it has a bathroom attached to it. You strip off your bathing suit, putting it in the sink of your bathroom.

You wrap a towel around your body and go to twist the knob of your shower. When you tug it towards hot it comes off the shower wall with a chink and you curse to yourself, the water coming out in a leak rather than a stream.

You huff. This is not what you need right now.

“Dad!” You call from the doorway of your bedroom—not wanting to venture further in just a towel.

You turn away from the door—moving into the bathroom, trying to chance figuring out how to fix it instead, when a pair of footsteps fall by your bedroom door.

“You okay?” A voice calls from your bedroom, but it’s not your dads.

You jump at the sound of a honey rich southern drawl echoing your name as Joel pushes through the bathroom door to find you in your towel, holding the shower handle.

“Jesus—” he looks away with a cough, you can tell he’s shocked to see you in just a towel. But when he sees you holding the handle he does a double take.

“What the hell did y’do?” He flips between giving you privacy and moving toward you with an outstretched hand, taking the shower handle into his own.

“I just tried to turn it on and it snapped off,” you try to reason with him, a flush coming to your cheeks when he comes into the bathroom.

“Move,” he grumbles, sneaking by you. In the brief moment you come chest to chest, you look up at him and he lets out a groan. His hand snakes by your waist. He looks down at you—a dangerous look in his eyes.

Joel breaks first, moving towards the shower.

“I’m gonna—yeah—just…uh thanks,” you gesture to your towel and shut the door to the bathroom behind you. Leaving Joel in there alone.

You throw on an oversized t-shirt and underwear before he comes out, sans shower handle.

“Thanks,” you mumble, suddenly self conscious you didn’t have time to put on pants. You aren’t sure why. Joel’s seen…a lot already.

“‘Course,” he says, but doesn’t leave like you anticipated.

“You havin’ fun?” He asks. There’s something in his tone that suggests he doesn’t actually care.

“Yeah,” you reply, breathless, “Thanks for inviting us.”

“sorry—I—” he points to the bathroom, “thought you were in trouble or somethin’.”

“‘S’okay.”

He looks at you, and down to your bare legs, your underwear just peeking out from beneath your shirt’s hem.

The way Joel looks at you—like you’re the only one who matters—stokes the fire growing in your stomach. The look in his eyes tells you he’s still wrestling with his moral compass. Like he needs to stay away for his own good, but like he said in the car—he just can’t.

Joel nods, and steps back like he’s turning to leave. You don’t want him to. You need him. When you take a tentative step toward him, he suddenly breaks into stride in your direction. The dam of fleeting touches and wandering eyes for half a day breaks. He grabs your face in his hands, kissing you hard. His tongue slips to run over your bottom lip and you whine into his mouth.

Your hands come up to rest on his chest. His, wrapping around your waist while he dips his head to start kissing your neck.

“Joel–” you start, but the feeling of his lips on the sensitive parts of your collarbone punches your breath.

He only hums at that sentiment.

“Where are we going?” you manage to get out, when he’s tugging you into the bathroom by your wrist, shutting the door behind him.

“Need to fuck you,” he groans into your ear as he spins you around, so your hips press into the bathroom counter. You can look into the mirror and see your reflection. You look entirely too fucked out from a couple kisses and he looks stone cold.

“J-Joel—ah—jesus,” you moan when his hand dips to your front and catches your clit through cotton.

“Say please,” he groans into the skin of your neck. You turn your head to catch his lips in a chaste kiss. It's all tongue and teeth, but you don’t mind either way. He’s close, he’s here and he’s kissing you.

You break away from the kiss just enough to whine out a small, “Please–fuck–”

You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but you know if that’s what he wants—you’d give him anything in this particular moment.

“Nicer.”

You whine, the pad of his finger catches your clit just right.

“Please, Joel,” you cut out through bated breath.

He huffs, you can hear the sound of clinking and shuffling behind you—the tell tale sign of his belt coming undone.

“Alright, baby, c’mon,” he pushes you down, folds you in half, your breasts pressed against marble. It's cold, and his hot hands on your waist, snaking down to slot his fingers in your underwear makes you dizzy.

“You’re a tease,” he groans when he eases your underwear to the side, the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Joel—p—fuck—” His cock catches at your entrance. You both pause for a second, reveling in the feeling. One of his hands grips your waist so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises by dinnertime. The other pushes your face down—fingers tangling in your hair.

“Look in the mirror,” he growls, lifting your head up by your hair, just enough so you can watch his face as his tip slips past your entrance.

He stretches you out just from that, you muffle down a scream in your throat.

Joel’s mouth goes slack but he doesn’t react much with his face. He just looks down at your bodies connecting and pants while he slowly slides home.

“‘S big Joel. Feel so good—oh my god—” he breaks you open and splits you in two. His breath cuts somewhere behind your head—your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling.

He buries himself to the hilt, you curse and mutter inconsistencies into the bathroom. His iron grip on your body goes tighter if possible.

“Eyes open,” he growls behind you. “You can take it baby, c’mon.”

You will open your eyes, focusing on him in the mirror. He has a sheen of sweat already casing his forehead, his shirt is half unbuttoned with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Relax, angel,” he pants. “You’re squeezing me — could barely get it in,”

He settles there, you try to relax but the stretch makes you squirm underneath him. He lets you adjust to his length, cursing every time you clench around him. It’s filthy. Obscene. He’s pushing your head up — lifting you by your hair, so you can see him spear into you with no remorse. He’s filthy, and so are you.

“Fuck, Joel,” you mutter when you finally relax around him, your tight walls flutter at the feeling of his cock moving halfway out of you. When he pushes back in you see stars.

“That’s right honey —fuck— so good for me,” he pants, bottoming out again and setting a slow pace that punches each breath out of you. “Teasin’ me all day—couldn’t fuckin’ wait any longer.”

“More please,” you whine, meeting his eye in the mirror. The air is thick in the bathroom now, the potpourri on the sill of the window doesn’t really mask much of anything.

He complies—surprisingly. Moving faster and harder, each push of his hips knocks you into the counter. The grip on your waist gets impossibly tight. The hand pulling at your hair finally lets you rest back down on the counter, pushing hair out of your face when you look back at him. It rests on the back of your neck.

“Feel so good baby,” he groans.

“Joel—I’m—I can’t, I’m gonna—”

“C’mon angel, come for me,” he says, you take another peak at him through the mirror. He looks wrecked. But you look even worse.

You get impossibly tight around him while he mutters things you can’t hear over the ringing in your ears. You think you hear him toss out a small that’s right when you finally spill over the edge.

He fucks you through it, his pace doesn’t let up, the coldness of the counter brings you back to reality. Where his breaths are becoming groans and pants and he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“‘Nother,” is all he says when your tight walls finally relax, molding to him and only him.

“I–I can’t—” you say, slumped against the counter. You sound cock drunk. It’s halfway true though. No one else has ever made you come twice in one night. You were starting to think it might be a myth.

“Know you can, pretty girl,” he goes slow at that, angling down so the tip of his cock catches something inside you that lights the fire again. “There we go. ‘S okay, can feel it already.”

He pushes you towards another orgasm, it washes over your entire body and you slump against the counter. Maybe it’s some sort of weird trance he has you in. Or maybe you were right and this — whatever it is — is getting bad. Fast. You’re threatening to fall. But he’s there, and he picks you up and holds you down.

“Jesus. Fuck, baby,” he curses into your skin when your release coats his cock and lets him sink deeper, thrust faster, push harder.

“Joel—fuck. Fuck.” Maybe the overstimulation should be getting to you, but you stay there like that, as he speeds up and his thrusts become more frantic. He chases after his own orgasm.

“Turn over,” he says, hastily. His hands move at your body before you can process his words. He flips you around and slots himself in between your legs—sliding back in deep, grinding into you while folding over so his head is in the crook of your neck.

“Please,” you whimper. You both know what you’re asking for. But he pulls out, ripping your shirt up and spilling all over your stomach and breasts. It coats you, the liquid hot and he dips his head to watch it coat your body. He lets out a strangled string of curses, bracing himself on the counter as he comes.

He kisses you. Really kisses you. You grab his face and moan into it. Like you’re willing him to stay there, in between your legs forever.

But he breaks first, moving to grab a towel out of the cabinet above the toilet. He cleans you up gently, wetting the towel with warm water before it touches your skin. The sentiment could make you cry.

When he’s done cleaning you up, he kisses your forehead. Joel wraps his arms around you as you sling yours over his shoulders. He holds you there, his hand coming to cup the back of your head, stroking your hair and breathing hot kisses into your crown. You smile, lazily.

He pulls back just enough to look at you. You know you still look wrecked and are in desperate need of a shower—he looks perfect by contrast, completely untouched and definitely unbothered.

“Dangerous,” he mutters when you look at him through your lashes.

You kiss him instead of responding.

You know Joel's right—this is dangerous.

But it feels way too good to stop.

part iv

taglist! (comment or message me if you would like to be added) kisses to you all:

@nostalxgic @iluvurfather

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dahliakbs · 24 days

Text

◕Damian Wayne x Child! Reader: Pillager of Art◕

(This is like a mini continuation of Damian x Reader: This Won't Do)

Your quickly shuffling down the hallway behind a clearly irritated Damian. He looked as if he was on the verge of slamming someone's head against a locker and knowing him he probably would.

Some idiot in his art class ripped up an art piece he'd been working on as a way to bully him but they don't know just what they got themselves in to.

"Calm down" you knew he wasn't gonna, it was his art piece after all. You'd just have to hope that some miracle occurs and he actually manages to stop himself.

"I'm trying to"

"Well try harder!" You huffed out.

You don't know how he managed to find out who it was because it only happened five minutes ago but whoever it was brought this upon themselves.

"So when you spot them just gimme the heads up and I'll hide around the corner" you stated. Just because he was willing to be suspended doesn't mean you were willing to be suspended with him.

He didn't seem to comprehend your words though because in the next few seconds he'd sped up his pace, grabbed the back of the poor soul's head and slammed it into the cold metal door of the locker.

Then he did it again

And again

And again, ouch!

You know what, this sucker stole some of your stuff a while back. Maybe you should get in on this to...

(Maybe you should stop picking up Damian's personality traits. )

A couple minutes later:

"Dami I'm pretty sure he's had enough" you state.

"Then why are you still beating him?" He'd already gotten his fair share of licks in and was just standing back against the locker watching.

"Because he stole my stuff!"

"Didn't you find your stuff in lost and found a couple days ago"

Then a long silence followed, briefly interrupted by the soft crying of the student beneath you.

"Oh yeah"

....

"So when I get suspended you won't tell your dad right?"

"Of course I won't, cause I'll be suspended with you"

#damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul #damian wayne #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batman x child reader #batman x child! reader #dc #dc x you #batfamily x reader #batfamily #batfam #batman x reader #batman

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queenimmadolla · 2 months

Text

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

previous — next part ┊ 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( + playlist)

Summary: You learn the identity of your new undead friend, get a mini ‘makeover’, catch your crush’s attention and bury a body while Eddie learns throwing up on the girl he’s interested in probably doesn’t display his potential as a boyfriend, but his protective nature might.

Chapter Warnings: a stinky boy, dark humor, unpleasant home life, intense longing (on eddie’s behalf). oh yeah, and murder.

a/n: so i lied, this is actually longer than the first chapter and i accepted my fate. we’re getting to the fun stuff, though. next up: more vigilante justice, eddie lore and emerging feelings for a certain dead man walking. hope you like it!

light dividers ℗ cafekitsune ♡

“C’mon, over here.” You gestured to your open doorway, watching your new zombie pal hobble up the final step and round the staircase. His movements were harsh, stiff as hell and made your bones hurt to watch for whatever reason. Every over limp was accompanied by an inhuman grunt, and you wondered if moving his limbs might actually be painful for him.

You were never particularly skilled in the art of masking your emotions, so your eyebrows were furrowed, mouth parted and upper lip tucked up to clearly display your phantom discomfort.

Once he was close enough, you crossed over the threshold, standing a little in front of your bed as he wandered in, large eyes immediately raking over everything on your walls. After beckoning him further in, you moved around the filthy corpse standing in your room to close the door.

“Despite your deadly good looks, we can’t risk anyone seeing you. No one else can know you’re here.” You informed him, trying to stress the seriousness of the situation without seeming too controlling. While you had waited for The Zombie to struggle up the stairs, you’d determined there were three possible ways this town would react to discovering a member of the dead had risen—that only seemed to be socially acceptable and celebrated in the form of Jesus Christ:

1.) Pitchforks and Torches.

2.) News, Military, and Government attention, which would no doubt mean you’d have to break him out of some lab.

3.) Pitchforks and Torches, News, Military, and Government attention, which would mean you’d have to save him from an angry mob before inevitably losing him once News stations picked the story up, causing subsequent Military and Government interference and the scientific study of your undead friend in some high tech/high defense lab, leaving you to figure out how to break into and get him out of it.

Or, he could just not leave your bedroom. A beautiful alternative.

The Zombie didn’t even pay you any attention, stumbling forward—and banging his foot against the leg of your bed frame—to take a better look at your things. He was grunting and groaning, though this time it seemed to be a little different. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself. Or maybe to you.

Zombies in film seemed to be able to voice their demands for brains. Could he? Did he have the same urge or need to eat brains? How would you even feed a zombie?

“Can you talk?” You asked, leaning back against the door, eyes on him as he had to hop in place in order to turn his body to face you, “Like, speak? With words?”

He seemed to consider your question for a moment, eyes darting to the side.

“Uuuuuuunnnggghhh.”

“So, that’s a no. Do you…do you need brains? Because I’m not sure I can get you any of those—and if you think for one second that you’re gonna eat mine, you should know I fall under fight when it comes to fight or flight responses. I’m like an alley cat, I’ll fuck you up.”

The Zombie stumbled back, rocking from side to side. It took you a moment to realize he was trying to shake his head, no.

Interesting.

“No brains?”

Again, he rocked from side to side, “Uunggh-uunghh.”

“Oh. Okay.” Your defenses dropped immediately as you played with your hair, pulling gently at a section of it, “Well, what do you eat?”

He did the choppy shoulder raise he’d done in the livingroom earlier, “Unnhh unnhh.”

Your lips curled into a small, fascinated smile. Okay, you knew he had been once alive, once a human being existing on this earth with blood pulsing through his veins—and now he was dead.

Yet, he wasn’t dead. He was dead but standing in your bedroom, amongst your girly things and not so girly things, staring at you in his grotesque form, and shrugging I dunno, like some alive person. A full blown, supernatural one-time (to your knowledge) occurrence only depicted in Sci-fi films and horrors.

Why you? What did he want with you?

You hadn’t realized you’d voiced the question until he hobbled back around to your bedroom wall, raising his left hand, and the only one he seemed to have, up to one of the tombstone etchings. His fingers were all sorts of fucked up, frozen in the most uncomfortable looking positions as a result of rigor mortis in whatever position he’d died.

“What? That? It’s just an etching I made of a tombstone.”

He craned his head around, and you tried not to be freaked out with the way his neck hadn’t turned enough with it, tapping his crooked pinky finger against the craft paper and then moved it to his chest.

Your eyes zeroed in on the etching, trying to understand what he was attempting to tell you.

It was MUN’s tombstone—no, Eddie Munson’s tombstone.

Your jaw dropped. Had to be somewhere around your feet, on the floor. Holy. Shit.

“That’s you? You’re Eddie Munson?” It was rude, but you openly pointed at him.

He didn’t grunt in response this time, rather, he began to cough and gag as he jerked his body around to get his hand in his dirty jeans.

While he did whatever it was, you took the time to take him in even further. He wore black jeans, but under his leather jacket he seemed to be wearing a discolored dress shirt that had once probably been white. You had a feeling the sneakers on his feet, while horrendously dirty, weren’t all that worn out. Dress pants were pricey, you knew that much after buying some for your father when your mother would take you to outlets and malls with her. Dress shirts were a little cheaper and new shoes were seen as a staple in big events for peoples’ lives, such as graduations, birthdays, dances, weddings and funerals.

You had a sneaking suspicion this lively carcass hadn’t been from this part of town when he was alive.

“UUUUUUNNNNGGGHHHH!” The Zombie moaned out, almost victoriously as his stiff arm stuck straight up in the air. Dangling from his curled fingers, was your mother’s pearl necklace. You’d seen it last when you’d entrusted MUN with it yesterday.

You gasped, reaching out as he lowered it into your furled palm.

With the proof in your hand and his corpse before you, you knew you were speaking to Eddie Munson. He was, without a doubt, the grave you’d been running to.

“Holy crap, you are Eddie Munson!” You gripped the pearls in your fist, eyes wide and blinking rapidly to try to make sense of it all, “You were murdered and now you’re not—I mean, you were, but you’re back from the dead, standing in my—ooh, standing pretty close actually.”

You tried not to flinch as you became aware of just how close he’d stumbled over to you. Definitely within arms-length. He didn’t exactly stink, his flesh looked much too leathery to actually smell (you weren’t about to lean in and sniff to test the theory), but the scent of wet dirt was strong and the smell of whatever he’d spat on you earlier seemed to be lingering.

Zombie Eddie was in desperate need of a shower.

“So, this is all pretty cool and bizarre—I’m a fan of both—but uhm, why are you here…? Like, in my house.”

He slouched even further into your space, this time you did flinch a little as the most muffled whimper sounded from him. Reminded you of the Tin Man from Wizard of Oz when he couldn’t speak properly because he was all rusted up.

Eddie held eye contact as he struggled to grab hold of your hand and the minute he did, dirt from his skin pressing into yours, you knew what was coming.

Because of course it would. This is something that would only happen to you.

Shakily, Eddie tried lifting your hand and your mouth puckered, brows furrowing before you sucked your lips into your mouth as you watched him prepare to kiss your hand with his filthy, dead, dried out lips that still had bits of that green goop he’d spat up around it.

You were a nice person—a relatively decent human being, but you weren’t that nice and you didn’t wanna have to go to the hospital on the off chance that you caught something from a corpse. Explaining that one would send you straight to the psych ward and probably end in some sort of abuse of a corpse charge, so you quickly pulled your hand out of his grasp, rubbing your fingers together to roll some of the dirt off of them.

“Okay, okay, I see, mhm—alright. You’re here because—when I said I wished I was with you, I didn’t mean like, I wanted to have your dead body…y’know, pressed up against mine. I meant like…in the grave. Next to you. Like buried there because I’d be dead. It was a moment of intense angst—I’m nineteen and my life is in the fucking gutter. I’m surrounded by terrible people in this town and I have the rest of my life to live out this way.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on or something, and I’m pretty sure it’s a crime to do literally anything with a corpse, other than bury it.”

The two of you stood there, just staring at each other. He still hadn’t moved out of your space and you were still kind of leaning back, away from him, so you added, “So. Just a little recap, I wanted to be dead. Did not mean I wanted to be with you. Romantically. Together. Like a couple.”

And then you felt a little guilty because that wasn’t entirely true.

“Well, not with you as a cadaver.” Because you had fantasized about the person in the grave being a source of comfort to you, “Or—or, you in general. ‘Cause…’cause I didn’t know it was you given how fucked up your shit was, and I didn’t know you when you were alive.”

God, you were messing this up. Rather than continuing your ongoing word vomit, you flashed him a tight smile.

Finally, you got a reaction out of him. He creaked back, those little whimpering sounds coming from his lips before that same nasty ass green shit from before started leaking out from behind his eyeballs.

You’d made him cry.

“Oh, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—I just moved here a couple of months ago and you were already dead by then! I’m sure you were a lovely person and I would have liked y—y—yo—ECH!”

You gagged, hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose as you felt the contents of your stomach start to make its way back up. While your hand was in that position, it squeezed the tip of your nose, cutting of the assault currently taking place against it.

Whatever it was Zombie Eddie was secreting instead of his tears, stunk. It was the most putrid scent you’d ever had the misfortune of knowing. Nothing could compare to it, not literal shit, not vomit, not pasta that had been left out to cook in the sun for several weeks, nothing.

You were sure one more sniff of it, and your nostril hairs would either shrink and curl up, or disintegrate.

“MOTHER OF GOD—your tears smell horrendous—I’m gonna throw u—ECH!”

You gagged again, tears flooding your sight and you hurried over to the bathroom, gesturing for him to follow behind you.

Chrissy had left her door to the bathroom open, so you skidded across the tile to shove it closed, desperate to make sure the scent didn’t reach the room and wouldn’t linger in there.

She’d drive you straight to the ER to get checked out, because nothing you could possibly shit out should ever and would ever smell that bad.

You yanked the shower curtain back from the tub, setting Chrissy’s products to the side and out of the way, “You need to bathe like two years ago, my dead guy.”

You stepped to the side, pointing into the tub with a finger as your other hand rested on your hip like you were ordering a misbehaving child in.

Eddie groaned, and you got the feeling that he was unimpressed with your theatrics. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t been dramatic about it. His stank tears had to be an actual biohazard and you didn’t want to think about the fact that very same biohazard had been projectile vomited onto your face a couple of minutes ago. You were so gonna scrub it raw.

Begrudgingly, he hobbled over to your tub and struggled over the edge until he was in—his upper half slamming into the tile wall.

You didn’t say anything about him being fully clothed, shoes and all, because everything he wore needed a good rinse off. If not, you’d have to hose his clothes down in the yard before subjecting the dryer and washer to them.

“There’s my soap.” You pointed out the pink bottle of pomegranate and berry scented shower gel, “And my shampoo and conditioner—those two are very expensive and a little goes a long way, so don’t waste any.”

You eyed him for a moment, mouth twisting in consideration, “Nevermind, it’ll take half the bottles to get your hair clean, I’ll just have to replace them a little earlier than my budget expected.”

This time, Eddie’s mouth parted rather wide as he moaned out, “UHNNNGGHH.”

He was probably telling you to fuck off already, but you were distracted by whatever insect was currently in his mouth, on his tongue.

“SPIT IT OUT!” You shrieked, and he aimed his head down, the large thing with too many legs falling right out to crawl around on your bathroom floor.

You screamed as you began to stomp around, trying to crush it beneath your remaining slipper but it kept evading it! Finally, your foot flattened it with a satisfying crunch.

The evil had been defeated. You were nearly panting, shoulders rising and falling as you calmed your breathing and another sound registered.

Eddie was croaking now, it sounded almost like the most painful gasps someone would let out on their deathbed. You stared, puzzled for a moment before it dawned on you.

“Are you laughing at me?”

He did it again, stiff body leaning completely back on the shower tiles now.

“Oh my god, you are! YOU DICK!” You slapped the side of his arm and then quickly yanked it back, frowning at the mud now caked to the back of your fingers.

“Ugh,” you tried to shake some of it off over the tub, your head shaking as well—and despite the predicament, you found the corners of your lips twitching but you refused to smile. Wouldn’t let him get that over you, “You’re gross. That better be the last living creature to come out of you, you Zombie Headbanger, take a shower.”

You didn’t give him a chance to moan, groan or croak at you again, yanking the curtains back to shield the tub and it’s undead occupant.

You rolled your eyes, almost fondly, and gathered too much toilet paper to wipe up the remnants of the bug and toss it in the trash. Should’ve been in a different corpse’s mouth if it wanted to live.

“You know how to work a shower, don’t you?” You asked aloud as you approached your bathroom counter, taking notice of the bathroom mirror as you uncapped a room spray and gave your bathroom a good burst of it. The mirror had already been replaced, looked like Laura couldn’t stand to know there was something imperfect in the house—aside from you.

You heard the tub start to run before the shower stream took over. At least he still remembered that much.

“You wanna listen to some music?” You asked over the loud stream of the shower.

“Uunngh.”

You took that as a yes and leaned over the counter to tweak the knob of the radio you and Chrissy always left on it. Immediately, a country station started playing and you quickly switched the station.

“That’s not one of mine! Chrissy listens to Country whenever she misses her ex-boyfriend, I don’t know why.”

You kept twisting the dial through various stations. When you hit a station midway through Disposable Heroes, you turned the knob again only for your companion to voice his outrage.

“UUUUUUNNNGGHHHH!!!”

“What?” You switched the station back, “You like Metallica?”

He grunted from behind the shower curtain, and the scent of your body wash began to fill the bathroom, much to your relief. You could hear him banging around in there, probably not the easiest to wash up with a bad case of rigor mortis.

“They’re alright, I liked Ride the Lightning, but Master of Puppets is good, too. Their last album was good, too, but it felt kind of different. Not the same without Burton.”

Eddie made a sound of confusion, hand with the fucked up fingers reaching out to push the curtain back so he could poke his head out.

You met his gaze through the mirror, “You don’t know?”

He just blinked, almost owlishly.

Shit. He must have died before the fall of ‘86. You’d have to ask Chrissy when exactly Eddie had died.

“The bass player, Cliff Burton? He died in ‘86. Bus accident.”

You watched as Eddie’s gaze dropped, and the groan he let out sounded remarkably sad as he ducked back behind the curtain.

Unsure of what to say to make him feel better, you let the radio play out the rest of the duration of Eddie’s shower and took diligent care in washing your face and brushing your teeth. Once he was done, smelling amazing and just like you, you’d had him shed his clothes for one of your nightgowns and dragged him back to your closet.

You knew he was quite literally stiff, but he seemed extra unenthused with his choice of ensemble, so you were going to let him choose his own.

“Alright, take your pick.” You yanked the doors of your walk-in closet (as in you could take three steps in and that's it) open and he flinched back at the amount of pink seeping out of it. When he made no move to look through his options, you selected one for him.

An even gaudier nightgown you tried to shove in his arms. And he let you, before purposely dropping it to the ground while holding eye contact.

“Well, I thought you would have looked great in it.” You mumbled as he creaked down to pick it up for you. When Eddie hobbled into the closet to hang it up, you shut the doors behind him, “Pick something else and then you can come out!”

Your closet doors didn’t lock though, so you were just banking on him assuming they did and you heard his offended zombie groaning. While you waited, listening to him no doubt bang into the walls as he struggled to dress himself, grunting and groaning, you twirled around on your desk chair.

Eventually, the closet doors parted and you gasped at the sight of him, standing there in your lavender fluffy, oversized sweater and pair of white pajama pants with hearts all over them. He couldn’t really move his face all that much, not very expressive and yet you could somehow tell he was scowling.

“You look like Grimace.” Was all you said, mind conjuring up Ronald McDonald’s purple monster friend.

The closet doors were promptly slammed shut. When he emerged once more, gone was the former ensemble. Eddie was wearing a neon green skirt, a tight off the shoulder black top, and nothing else.

You wolf whistled at his skinny, severely discolored legs.

He stuck one out, modeling it for you and you realized he was humoring you. You laughed, eyes crinkling.

“You tryna knock me dead, too?”

When he nodded, you laughed again and stood up to rummage through your dresser. You found a band tee you used as a pajama top, and some black pants that looked like they might fit him. Then you spotted a red plaid flannel you had hanging on your bedroom door, waiting to be placed in the closet.

The clothing items were shoved into his arms and you pushed him back into the closet.

When he came out (eheheheh) again, you were practically bouncing in your seat. You’d never seen Eddie alive before, had never seen him in clothes that weren’t his burial ones, and he definitely still looked as much of a Zombie as Michael Jackson had looked in the Thriller music video, but he also looked like a young adult, and very much so in his Metal element. He was stretching your baby blue socks to their limit, but they’d have to do until you could steal some from your dad. You’d scrub his shoes tomorrow, before class.

If Eddie were alive, he’d look…hot.

You smiled to yourself, still taking him in as you realized you were looking at Eddie Munson.

To show your admiration, you clapped for him, “That’ll do real well. What do you think?”

Eddie raised his forearm and you tilted your head, confused. He followed your gaze and groaned, rolling his eyes as he realized that was the arm lacking a hand. Then, he held up his other arm, painful looking thumb finger cracking and popping until he was giving you a thumbs up. You ended up tying a scarf around the wrist without a hand, just to hide the gaping wound.

With the matter of his clothing solved, you moved onto his hair, sitting on the bathroom counter while he stood in front of you as you worked on detangling with a spray bottle and a legion of hair products. It took some TLC, and ignoring the hole where his ear should’ve been, but you brought his curls back to life. You were shocked to even see he had bangs, they’d been plastered to the top of his head when he was the Swamp Thing.

They framed his eyes, looked real good on him and he seemed to enjoy the entire process, eyes slipping shut and little moans (not like that) coming from him.

“Well, I think we’ve got you back in good shape.” You put down the comb, placing your hand on his shoulders to turn him towards the mirror, “Is this Eddie Munson?”

You watched his gaze scan his reflection, before those eyes were on yours in the mirror.

“Unnnghhh.” Eddie held up his arm with the missing appendage and you nervously scratched the back of your heard.

“Well, you see, I don’t really have any extra hands on me, at the moment. Just down to these two,” You emphasized the sentence with some jazz hands to display yours, then immediately felt guilty over still having yours so you hid them behind your back.

Eddie groaned low, lifting his wrist to the side of his head, where his ear should have been and you made a displeased sound.

“Oh. Noticed that, did you?”

His eyes narrowed and even though you had no idea what Eddie had sounded like, you could still hear him in your head, Notice my fucking ear is missing? Yeah, I did.

“I don’t have any extras of those, either. If it’s a body part, I’m out of stock. But—who cares? Plenty of people live without them.”

Eddie grunted, eyes narrowing even further at you.

You winced, “Poor choice of words—the point is, no one will even notice. Because no one is going to see you.”

Eddie’s next grunt sounded disappointed and you felt even guiltier. What were you supposed to do? You’d already made him look as relatively normal as you could, there was only so many ways you could disguise a zombie who walked oddly, communicated via moan, groan and grunt, and looked like he had a medical skin condition.

You were about to try to comfort him when you heard the front door open and you gasped.

“WHAT IN THE GARDEN OF EDEN?” You heard Laura cry out, and your dad shouted your name.

“I don’t mean to sound homophobic, but back in the closet!” You shoved him out of the bathroom and in the direction of his new hiding place. He hadn’t looked very keen as you shut the closet doors on him, but he’d have to wait for now.

Your dad was probably having one hell of a heart attack, staring at the mess of the house, the broken window, fearful a similar situation as your mother’s assault had taken place with you as the victim.

“I’m alright, daddy!” You reassured as you raced down the stairs to your concerned father. He was concerned alright, but not about you.

He had Laura in one arm, who was openly distraught about the shards of her damn plates, and Chrissy, who was staring at the mess with open confusion, in the other.

“You,” Laura spat at you with venom the moment her chilling gaze locked onto your approaching figure, “What. Did. You. Do?”

Wow. You’d seen an actual Zombie—he was upstairs, in your bedroom closet—and still the most unbelievable thing to happen to you was your ‘family’’s ability to immediately blame you. You hadn’t expected Eddie’s corpse to be the first suspect in their head, still, they’d seen your house ransacked—as you tried to escape your friendly deceased headbanger—with you nowhere in sight, and hadn’t been at all concerned for your wellbeing. God, they sucked.

“Me?! I didn’t do this!”

“Then who did!?” Laura screeched back and you found yourself getting angry.

“The guy who broke in!” You shouted back and Laura immediately rolled her eyes. You could hear your dad say both of your names to calm you down, but you were growing tired of him, too. Like Eddie, he seemed to be missing parts of his body. Noticeably, his goddamn spine.

“Really? You expect us to believe that after last night? The smashing of the mirror, my precious moments figurines? Muffin, your daughter is out of control. She destroyed my house!”

“Do you ever use those creepy eyeballs stuck in your skull?” You found yourself blurting out, “Does it look like any part of my body came crashing through that window?!” You pointed aggressively in the direction of the livingroom, where glass littered the floor. It was too much for just an object to have been thrown through and your body had no cuts, nothing to show from possibly jumping through it.

“Mom, if sissy was attacked─” Chrissy tried, her her mother was having none of it.

“Attacked? Who would want to attack her? She’s invisible, taking up space!” Laura was practically hysterical as she gathered pieces of her broken dishes, “That’s why she’s acting out, can’t you see? She’s recreating the crime scene that got her so much attention and you’re all falling for it!”

The woman was crying, mascara smearing around her eyes as her angry glare was once more directed to you, and you found yourself shrinking and hurt at the accusations, “You need serious help. You’re crazy and a danger to us all!”

“I think you might be mistaking me for your psyche.” You mumbled before turning your attention to your father with pleading eyes, “Daddy, there was a home invasion! I tried to call the police, but as soon as I heard him, I ran up to hide in my room.”

“She needs help, institutional treatment.” Laura hissed into your father’s ear as as though she was the devil on his shoulder.

“Daddy…”

“Mom, sissy’s not a nut, we can’t send her to the looney bin!”

You wanted to scream. All this talk about you being insane, and there was a literal walking corpse upstairs who could disprove that. You just weren’t willing to sacrifice Eddie for yourself.

“Dad, I’m not crazy. Okay? Last night was just a mirror, and tonight someone broke in. There’s a huge difference between the two, I’m not crazy.” You tried to reason, desperate to not get shipped off to some mental ward.

Your dad appeared sympathetic, “No one is calling you crazy, sweetheart.”

”I did.” Laura guffawed at your father siding with you.

“She did, I heard her.” Chrissy confirmed, frowning at her mother.

“No, Chris. Your mother’s just upset, she’d never say something like that and mean it.” You watched with disgust as he pulled Laura into his arms. It was more than you could stomach so you stormed out of the dining room, making a retreat for your room.

You were on your own. Your father had just proved that. Laura could say anything to you, treat you like crap, starve you and he wouldn’t ever step in, just continue being his wishy washy self. If it had been him and not your mother that night, you wouldn’t be suffering like this.

You’d have a loving parent.

You quietly shut your bedroom door once you made it in, leaning your forehead against it as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye. Emotions were something you tried to embrace, but crying because of your family felt…wrong. Like something you shouldn’t have to do.

Wiping your face, you realized more tears would be coming. Tonight was meant for crying. So, you slipped into bed, tears leaking steadily down your temples to seep into your hair and pillows. You were so hurt and you wanted to sob, but you were conscious of the dead guy in your closet. What if he heard you?

With a stuttering breath, you peered over at the closet to see the doors barely open and Eddie peaking out at you.

You rolled onto your side, back facing him to hide your tear stained face and weakness as you thought about how loud you and Laura had been downstairs. He’d probably heard what she said about you.

It was one thing to be treated the way you were, it felt extra pathetic to have someone bear witness to it.

The closet doors closed quietly behind you and just as you did every night, you squeezed your eyes shut, willing sleep to come so you could be done with the day and move onto the next, just solemnly trying to make it through life.

Maybe you and Eddie had more in common than you originally thought. Maybe you were a zombie, too.

When your alarm blared from your nightstand, rousing you from sleep—the only peace you ever seemed to get—you stumbled out of bed almost blindly, eyes heavily lidded with exhaustion as you yanked your closet doors open.

A garment was immediately thrown over your head, covering your face and you remembered your current house guest.

With a sigh, you yanked the clothing off your head, balled it up and threw it back at Eddie, “Dude, I have to get dressed. I have class today.”

Eddie grumbled, un-balling the little black dress and holding it up for you. It was the dress Chrissy had bought on sale and then given to you when she came to the conclusion that black washed her out and she looked much better in pastels.

“I’m not wearing that, not so much my style.” You tried to push past Eddie, but he remained planted where he stood, grunting as he held the dress out to you once more.

“Do I look like Madonna to you?” You asked, pushing the dress back towards him. Eddie groaned and threw the dress at your face again, closing the closet doors while you yanked it off your head, again.

“We’re gonna have to have a conversation about your communication skills later.” You called through the door and fiddled with the dress, “Can I get a sweater or something to go along with this?”

The closet doors were quickly opened and a new article of clothing was flung over your head before they closed. You’d just pulled the sweater off of your head when the doors opened once more and a hat was tossed at you.

“Dang—anything else?”

“Uuunggh.” Eddie moaned through the door, and you tried to pull at them but he must have been holding them shut from the otherside.

Resigned to your fate, you swapped out your pajamas for the outfit Eddie had apparently selected for you. He would navigate to the black clothing. You were unsure of it until you saw yourself in the mirror. Normally, your clothes weren't all that revealing. Form fitting—maybe, but never as attention drawing as this. You just figured you weren’t the type that could pull it off.

You were wrong.

The dress hugged your figure in the most complimentary way. It was short, stopped mid-thigh, but it didn’t look awkward or make you feel like your vagina would be on display if you bent over, thanks to the lace of the bottom hem flaring out.

For once, the girl in the mirror looked stunning. And when you did your makeup, taking your time to smoke a dark blue shadow out along your lash line and eyelids, she looked drop dead gorgeous.

You’d walked onto Campus with your head high, body rocking and a new found confidence that hadn’t quite made it’s way to the surface before. The heads turning in your direction were new and you found you kind of liked it, their gazes weren’t uninterested, scowls or looks of annoyance. They were appreciative, even from the straight girls!

“Okay, am I seeing things or does your sister look drop dead gorgeous?” Tina asked, as Chrissy and her friends stood admiring you from the bench they were occupying.

“You’ve got perfect 20/20 vision. She’d be unstoppable if she kept the confidence. Could probably even win pageants. Do you think she’d join cheer?”

Eddie fiddled with one of your shoes, tugging on a shoestring in boredom. He was sat on the floor of your closet, light from your bedroom windows creeping in through the cracks of the doors.

You’d lectured him before you left for class, told him he had to stay put. Laura wouldn’t be leaving for her nurses’ conference until the afternoon, so she’d be lingering in the house and she’d have a cow if she stumbled upon him.

So you’d pointed and lectured until he was creaking and groaning his compliance.

He’d stayed in the closet while you got dressed and, after you’d made sure Chrissy had already left, watched you do your makeup in the mirror while you chatted about the classes you had to take for the day.

Eddie had listened, to the best of his ability with one ear, and stared at your reflection as the heavy sense of longing settled on his chest, crushing the heart that no longer beat but desperately wished to. For you.

Death was not like he’d ever expected. No heaven, no hell. He was just…dead. Maybe it’d been the way he died. Perhaps, the suddenness of it, his lack of peace in life while living, or the fact that he was murdered, was the reason he saw neither heaven nor hell. He’d just been in a dark place. Literally, no source of light, no out of body experience, just darkness. For a while, it was tolerable, he’d heard Wayne’s voice comforting him. Telling him how much he loved him, how much he missed him. Then, nothing.

Nothing for so long. Quiet. Silence, not at all a peaceful kind. He no longer existed in life and yet the silence was still somehow smothering.

Until one day, he wasn’t alone anymore.

You found him.

Talked to him all the time, laid with him, kept him company and said such wonderful things. Eddie had no idea how much he’d appreciate hearing about current news events as a dead guy.

And while you kept him from feeling lonely, there was always a sadness to your presence. Broke his heart when you told him out of place you felt because he just wanted to claw his way out of his grave and tell you that no, you weren’t odd, you weren’t weird, you weren’t out of place. You were unique. You were the type of person he would have admired if he had been alive, different but not desperate to fit in. Just longed to be accepted.

He understood the sentiment all too well.

Eddie understood you. And you had no idea who he was, had voiced as much to him, couldn’t come up with his identity because some fuckers had defaced his tombstone—of course they would—and yet, you knew exactly who Eddie was. Knew him to his very core.

When you visited him, Eddie felt warm. He had no idea he could even feel things, other than the constant loneliness that had plagued him after Wayne’s presence disappeared, and before you.

With you, it felt like you were right there with him, beside him. A warmth, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him in for some much needed comforting. How ironic that he finally found someone who could finally see him, and he couldn’t do anything about it because he was dead.

And when you had come to Eddie that fateful night, the sadness he always noticed about you was heavier. A new despair attached, one that had him desperate to get to you, comfort you as you’d done for him.

I wish I was with you.

You’d said it. Had said what Eddie had wanted to hear you say for so long, even before he was dead. Before he knew you. It had always been you he was waiting for. He was beginning to understand the universe was bigger than anything he could have imagined (and yeah, maybe universal studios was the first thing that came to mind when he was alive), was positive the heartache he went through was necessary if it led him to you. Eddie could have done without the murder—there was no undoing that. Except, there kind of was. And it happened with a strike of lightning.

Unlike the many times he wanted to before, he’d actually been able to open his eyes, break out of his coffin and dig his way out of his own grave.

Eddie had had a major breakdown, freaking out at just about everything regarding returning from the dead after he’d broken through that final layer of thick terrain, minutely softened by some light rain from the storm. He had first tried to go home, only to find himself face to face with an unfamiliar mobile home set up on Wayne’s lot. A peek into the window revealed a couple.

No sign of his uncle.

It filled him with a sense of panic and he’d needed something—someone to stabilize him, keep him grounded.

Eddie was sure he was tied to you. Not only because of the unique bond you shared, he also felt a pull to you. Just some intense instinct.

He knew where to go after.

Your welcome hadn’t exactly been as warm as the grave hangouts—he didn’t blame you, his vocal chords were useless to him for the time being, meaning he couldn’t explain himself as you shrieked and flung dishes at him (and he was impressed) and fled from him. He could make sounds, so Eddie suspected he had the ability to talk, just lacked the healthy cords due to years of non-use to them, what with him being dead and all.

Eddie’s case was definitely not helped when he’d broken your fall—he was freaking the fuck out about you dangling from the roof like that—and you’d pressed on him stomache when you landed on him.

He hadn’t meant to…y’know…spit all that up on you, it just happened and he immediately wanted to die right after, just roll right back into his grave, he was so fucking embarrassed.

Projectile vomited on the girl you’re tryna romance, Munson. Nice.

Then, you hadn’t been attacking him, tugging him along to your room instead where you immediately told him you were just using dark humor to cope and didn’t actually want to be with him.

Probably something you should have clarified for him before he returned from the dead to be with you, but whatever. He wasn’t mad about it. Just a little bit heartbroken. Definitely didn’t stink up your closet with a little cry sesh while you were at college. Totally didn’t smell like Cherry Bubbles (how is that a scent?) from the bathroom spray he’d had to limp out to grab in an effort to hide the scent of his rotting body tears.

Now, he was just confused. Had no idea what the hell to do. Thinking on it, it had obviously been stupid as fuck to think you’d want him when he was literally a dead body. Couldn’t exactly stroll down the street, holding his one hand without garnering a few odd looks and arrests.

So, what could he do now? Sit in the closet and think about everything. Try to remember everything about his last moments alive—and when it had him wheezing in the closet, cowering in the dark, he’d switched to thinking about his uncle. Concerned. Wondering what had happened to him. When that subject, too, began to promise a panic attack—he switched to thinking about you, and oh how he ached in a different way. You were right there, in reach for him and yet the two of you couldn’t be.

The most frustrating part is how good the two of you could be for each other, and Eddie literally couldn’t talk you into giving it a chance, couldn’t even flirt with you.

He had some mad rizz when given the opportunity, a body that wasn’t stiff as hell and a fucking voice. Eddie knew he’d be able to get you all shy and cute, similar to how you were when you talked about what you thought he was like back at the cemetery.

FUCK. What the hell? Life wasn’t fair to him, death wasn’t fair to him, now life as some zombie wasn’t gonna be fair to him?

What kind of fucked up existance was this?!

All because of some stupid fucking lightning that—

Lightning. Eddie perked up, theories racing through him. If it had brought him back from the dead, maybe it could do more. Before he could think on it further, he heard your door open and froze.

It was too soon for you to be home. You said you’d be back in the afternoon, after Laura had left.

Eddie heard a scoff.

“How has it gotten even worse in here?” Laura mumbled to herself.

Eddie scowled, as he heard her footsteps enter your room, could hear her padding around.

The fuck was she doing in here?

It was a risk, Eddie pushed the closet door open, just enough to give him a crack to peep through.

Your stepmom was in some sort of jazzercise outfit—ugh, of course she did jazzercise. The blonde woman was currently rummaging through your drawers, looking amongst your belongings.

She was invading your privacy.

If Eddie had blood flowing through his veins, it would have been boiling.

He’d heard what she said last night, how she berated you. Accusing you of using your mother’s murder to seek attention.

And the other members of your family weren’t speaking up nearly enough to defend you. He was surprised that Chrissy—small town for Cunningham to be the Chrissy you’d been telling him about—even tried to defend you but she should have been putting her mother in her place. She hadn’t come up to check on you, either.

Eddie had a few things he wished he could say to Laura Cunningham, tell her exactly where she could shove her stupid figurines and verbal abuse.

If she was searching for something, Laura didn’t find it. She slammed one of your drawers shut, eyed your sketches pinned to your wall with disgust before speed walking out of your room. When she passed the closet, Eddie took notice of the headphones over her ears, could hear whatever she was listening to, Walkman probably set to the loudest volume.

Eddie’s mouth chipped up into a smirk that kind of hurt his face. He opened the closet door fully, stumbling out to poked his head out of your bedroom doorway just in time to see your stepmom disappear down the stairs.

Eddie followed, steps loud and uneven. Laura didn’t notice his presence, too engrossed in whatever she was listening to and occupied with her own ego. Looked to be cleaning up the place before her little trip.

Laura disappeared into the kitchen, well out of view of the living room so Eddie stumbled in, eyeing the pristine setting. The place looked impeccable, spotless, antiques everywhere that Eddie just knew the old bat was dying to have people ask about so she could name drop and be as haughty as possible.

Eddie could wreck all of this in no time, and he would if he didn’t know she’d immediately blame you for it. He still felt guilty you’d been chewed out for the mess he made.

Bitch.

Eddie heard her returning, so he hid behind the wall, waiting a few moments before he peered around it and across the foyer, into the dinning room where she was seated after having fixed herself something. Laura still had the headphones on, so Eddie took that as the all clear to continue exploring.

He spotted a family portrait hung over the fireplace, a seemingly picture perfect family was displayed. A man he assumed to be your father loomed over Laura and Chrissy, one hand on each of their shoulders. Eddie barely glanced at them before you pulled all of his attention. You were stunning, light catching the highlights of your face, lips parted just enough to encourage a pout. Your hair was wild in comparison to the other women in the portrait—Eddie loved it. You looked like you belonged on an album cover for some rock band, even with the sorrow swirling around in your eyes. Your unwavering melancholic stare pinned Eddie, and he could feel himself getting protective over you again. You must have been miserable that day.

See, if he had been around, he could have easily cheered you up. Snuck over on the day in question. Laura would have hated his fucking guts—Eddie wouldn’t have minded being the boyfriend your stepmom didn’t approve of. Horsing around behind the little photo shoot set up to get you smiling, get those pretty eyes of yours twinkling before whisking you the hell out of there once they got the money shot.

He rolled his eyes, grumbling to himself as he turned away from the past that never was. Couldn’t have (he’d already been dead), should have (but couldn’t) and would have. In a heartbeat.

His posture worsened under the weight of his own despair, sulking with it until he spotted an acoustic guitar, tucked in the corner and resting on a stand.

“Mm?” Eddie tilted his head in curiosity before making his way over. It was difficult to do, but he managed to settle the neck of it in the crook of the arm lacking a hand, and strummed with his stiff fingers, pleased to find that it was already tuned.

He plucked a couple more chords, stopping once to adjust a peg. Then the doorbell rang and Eddie’s eyes widened. He fumbled to place the guitar back on its stand and plaster himself against the wall as Laura got up to answer it, having apparently been able to hear it ring but not his guitar playing.

“Yes?” Laura asked as she opened the door, impatience soaking through her tone.

“Carpet cleaning.” A man’s voice stated, sounding bored beyond measure.

“Carpet Cleaning? My carpet is so clean you can lick the fibers.” God, was your stepmom ever not insufferable? The carpet cleaner salesman seemed to be thinking the same thing and Eddie figured he had to be annoyed with his work day already to say what he did next.

“I doubt the one downstairs is.” The salesman snorted and Eddie would have snickered if he could as he heard Laura let out an affronted and embarrassed gasp.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

The guy must have turned tail because Laura was stepping out after him, yelling as she closed the front door behind her.

Eddie eyed the bowl she’d been eating from, curiosity getting the better of him as he stumbled over to inspect it. Spaghetti.

He shouldn’t….But what was the point of being a dead corpse if he couldn’t use dead guy powers for good?

It only took a little effort, Eddie successfully gagged and heaved until a warm that had been lurking in his stomach came out, dropping out of his mouth to wiggle around in Laura’s lunch. Eddie watched as it disappeared between the noodles and sauce, satisfaction filling him.

Served the hag right.

With justice served, Eddie made his way back upstairs to your room. He’d just made it to your doorway when he heard Laura return. He waited a few more moments for her to sit down, settle herself, twirl some spaghetti around her fork and put it in her mouth.

Eddie was beginning to think the worm had made its way to the very bottom of the bowl when Laura let out a high pitched scream.

That one was for you.

Eddie smirked and walked back into your room, quietly closing the door behind him.

You had two classes for the day, back to back so as to not have to stay on campus longer than necessary, and both classes were pleasant. There hadn’t been any change in the materials covered or anything, eyes just kept attempting to discreetly take you in, which you caught from your peripheral vision.

While you enjoyed the new attention your attire and the way you carried yourself brought you, you quickly realized it wasn’t something you needed. What you needed was to feel good about yourself and for once in your life, you did.

You were absolutely giddy, and you felt so badass somehow, was this what Chrissy and her friends felt like all the time? Maybe putting effort into your appearance wasn’t just a load of crap dispelled onto ugly people by the conventionally attractive.

Regardless, you were strutting your way to the library, eager to turn in some books, make Steve Harrington’s jaw drop, then run back home to Eddie so you could thank him profusely for not having fugly taste.

Once you made it to the library, you noticed no one was at the front desk. Steve must have been putting some books back on their shelves.

No problem, more time to prepare yourself, maybe run through some possible conversations so you wouldn’t go stupid at the sight of his gorgeous face.

Your bag hit the ground with a thud, thanks to the weight of the hardcovers within it and you bent down at the waist to rummage through it, placing one heavy hardcover book, two heavy hardcover books, three heavy hardco—

“You got the rest of the library in there, Mary Poppins?”

You snapped back up, whipping around just in time to see Steve’s gaze rise from where your ass had been unknowingly on display, to meet your eyes, his honey brown ones swirling with warmth.

Oh, god. Just play it cool.

“Just some tampons and some chips.”

Leave. Walk out. Save face.

“No chocolate for that time of the month?” He asked, leaning up against the desk, rather than going around it to handle your returns. Steve wanted to talk to you. He’d been eyeing your ass and now he was making small talk.

You were going for it.

“Craving a different kind of sweet thing right now.” You leaned in, just as he had at the tailor’s yesterday. You were laying it on thick, sure. It worked though. Steve leaned in, too, and you clocked the tick of his eyebrow. Interest. Holy shit—things were finally looking up for you.

“I’ve got some starbursts in my car,” Chrissy chirped, materializing out of thin air to stand in front of you and Steve.

You almost knocked down the books you’d stacked on the desk, cursing under your breath. “Geez, Chrissy.”

“Hi.” She grinned at you, her darling crooked teeth gleaming before she was fixing Steve with a stern look, “Sorry, I need to talk to my sister. Preferably, alone.”

“I’m not exactly gonna run to the gossip columns about anything.” He mused, exchanging an amused look with you but you couldn’t really hear anything going on around you because Steve Harrington was flashing you smiles around Chrissy, your pretty and practically perfect step-sister, and not her. You’d entered another dimension and you did not want to leave. All you could do was smile back at him, like some infatuated idiot while your fingers reached up to pick at your lower lip.

“That may be so, but I think it’s best if she hangs around a good crowd.” Somehow, Chrissy had wedged herself between you and Steve, standing protectively in front of you with her arms crossed. She was about as intimidating as a pomeranian. Still, it was endearing to have someone act like they cared about you.

“And the library is just full of Neanderthals, is that what you’re implying?” Steve leaned both elbows back on the desk, gesturing out to the few students—most meek in appearance—occupying the area.

“I was thinking more of creepy librarians, high school peakers, and former playboys.” Chrissy shot back and you nudged her, hissing out her name. The protective thing was nice, just not when she was trying to scare away the man you’d be making your boyfriend.

“Golden coming from you, of all people, your royal highness, the Queen of Hawkins High; former head cheerleader and Miss Hawkins of ‘87, but not ‘88 and I’m pretty sure Heather Holloway won again this year, so looks like we both don’t have a lot going on, do we?” Steve was smug, shooting you a wink that made your heart melt and drip down your sternum.

Steam was practically blowing out of Chrissy’s ears, “Shoo fly, don’t bother us.”

Steve rolled his eyes before they fixed on you, past Chrissy’s head, “I’ll see you later okay? Thanks for bringing your books back on time.”

You giggled, still staring at him as Chrissy began to tug you away, “Until the next time, I guess?”

Steve held your stare, smirk softening into a smile, “I’ll be waiting.”

It was easy for Chrissy to guide you out after that. You were floating. Light as a feather and high on life.

“You are the only girl I know who can survive a spiked drink and still want to have anything to do with the guy.” Chrissy sighed in exasperation as the two of you loitered by the drinking fountain, “There’s like at least four other guys here who would date you, sissy! Don’t waste your time on that one.”

Okay. Only four other guys? Ouch. “Steve didn’t spike it. Carol did.”

“And she’s always following him around like some sad little mutt. Better to just stay away.”

You scowled, mood souring. One afternoon. You couldn’t have just one afternoon where you felt good about yourself without someone bringing you down. You knew Chrissy meant well, but in that moment, she was pissing you off.

She seemed to pick up on the shift of your attitude, changing the subject, “After practice, I’m gonna go out tonight. Some of the girls want to go bowling and then have a little kick back. Cover for me?”

How very much like Chrissy to insult you in the name of protectiveness, and then ask you for a favor. She still cared more about you than your own flesh and blood, so, “I thought your mom was gonna be away for a few days in Akron.”

“She is, but daddy’s not. And he’s way too overprotective, I can’t even sneeze without him bursting into my room to ask me what’s wrong. He always wants to know where I’m going, argues with me when I try to go out late—it’s so annoying.”

All you could think about were the many times you’d said goodbye to him as you left the house at whatever hour you wanted while he mumbled a bye and read whatever magazine he was reading or watched TV.

You tried to consider it a good thing that he let you be so independent, yet something in you ached, sure he simply didn't care enough for you. Not like he did Chrissy, and he’d known you longer, all your life.

“Oh. Uhm, I think he works late today, anyway. I’ll cover if he asks, but I’m sure you’re good.”

Chrissy perked up, pulling you into a tight hug, “You are the best! I knew I was gonna love having you as a sister. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Chrissy didn’t wait for your reply, practically bouncing down the hallway and you sighed.

At least you’d have some peace and quiet, maybe you could get Eddie into better shape too, and you’d get to tell him about your day!

With your classes done, you made your way to the parking lot, where Mystery waited for you.

You slid the back door of the Volkswagen open, tossing your bag in before sliding the door shut and climbing into the driver's seat of the bus. Then you started your mantras and manifestations, gripping the key with a sweaty palm before you were sticking it into the ignition and turning it with bated breath.

She roared to life and you sagged back in your seat, bones like jelly knowing you piece of crap bus was still kicking.

It was the biggest lemon of a car you’d ever seen, carried around jugs of coolant in the back because it had to be refilled almost every time you started it.

But it was yours.

When you pulled up to the house to see Laura’s car was gone, you felt yet another weight lifted off your shoulders. You were completely free to be you. Snatching your bag from the back, you made a run for your house, quickly unlocking the door before stampeding up the stairs.

You burst into your bedroom, chest heaving to find it in normal condition and no Eddie around. Frowning, you tossed your bag on the floor, beside your bed, and made your way over to the closet, yanking the doors open.

Eddie peered up at you from his position on the floor, rocking an old feather boa of yours.

“Eddie, I told you you were free to roam once Laura left. You don’t have to stay cramped in there all day when no one is around.” You offered him a hand and helped hoist him when you took it, “You wouldn’t believe the day I had—you’ve got stellar taste, by the way.”

“Uuungh?”

You reached under your bed, snatching an old Easter basket out that you used to hide your snacks. After you settled on the bed, you patted the spot next to you, and Eddie hobbled his way over, grunting as he settled onto the cushy comforter.

“I know I was grumpy this morning. I’m sorry, you were right. The dress was a hit!” You exclaimed, ripping a bag of sour gummy worms open. The pink end was clenched between your teeth as you bit it off, bag of sweet and sour treats held out to Eddie as an offering.

Eddie reached into the bag, attempting to crook his fingers enough to hook one. You watched the leathery skin between his brows pull—if you had blinked, you would have missed it—as he struggled to free his hand from the bag, shaking it a little until you pinched the bottom firmly, allowing him to pull it out.

“Unngh.” He grunted in thanks.

As Eddie moved onto the challenge of getting the gummy worm to his mouth, you went back to telling him about your day, “I mean, god—all I did was put on a little dress and I felt kind of invincible. Not to mention Steve Harrington seemed to like it.”

Eddie froze, gummy worm hanging out of his mouth, “Mm?”

“Steve Harrington, did’ ya know him?” You asked, steamrolling right on as if you hadn’t, “Talk about winning the genetic pool—that man is so fine. We talked a little at that party I told you about, and before I did drugs, he was being so nice to me. And I didn’t look as hot as I do now, so I was hoping for a reaction out of him—BOY did I get it.”

You let out a dreamy sigh, recalling the way Steve had leaned into your straightforward flirting.

“He’s kind, funny, and sometimes he even has good book recommendations. He’s like the total package and I think he might actually like me.”

You paused your ranting to look over at Eddie. If you didn’t already know his face was stuck like that, you would have thought he was scowling.

“You got a little…” Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, your thumb lifted the gummy worm hanging out of his mouth the rest of the way up. Eddie’s cracked lips parted, just enough for you to press the rest of it in, then he chewed slowly, face not even twitching to clue you in on his emotions.

“There.” Your hand dropped back into your lap as you perked up, “I wanna assume he’s better than the other horndogs who popped woodies just because I wore a dress and flashed some leg.”

You stuck out your leg to demonstrate, the dress slipping even further up your thigh as you held it out, smooth (mostly, she was a little prickly but no one would notice unless they were stroking it) skin on display under some fishnet stockings.

Eddie let out a pained sounding groan, which you figured meant he was agreeing with you about the rest of the male population.

“Yeah. Well, I think everything’s gonna work out perfectly. Even if Chrissy keeps butting into my love life like some fairy chastity-mother. God—I just, I’ve never been close to actually having something I wanted before, you know?”

Eddie whined from behind closed lips, holding up the wrist that lacked his hand.

“What?” You asked, glancing down at the scarf wrapped around it. Eddie reached up with his fucked up fingers to point at where his ear should have been and it clicked for you, “Eddie, I can’t pull an extra hand and ear outta my ass. I wish I could, but I don’t have spare human parts lying around like pieces of a vacuum.”

Eddie whined again and this time you could actually see his lips pulling down, frowning.

“I told you I wish I could, but I can’t! I don't know how to get people parts and I don’t exactly have the black market on speed dial. Besides—you’re fine like this, I mean what are you able to do as walking dead guy anyways?”

“MUUUUNGGGHHHH!” Eddie groaned, loud and obviously upset as he dramatically flung himself back on the bed hard enough to shake it.

“Hey!” You snapped, fearful for your bed frame, “Chill out dude—don’t act all coked out!”

He turned his head, face miserable but before you could continue your scolding, you heard your name called upstairs.

Laura.

“SHIT, hide!” Eddie stumbled up and barely even had the chance to turn around before you shoved him into your closet, shutting the doors.

You’d barely stepped away when Laura burst into your room. She was dressed in her nurse uniform, complete with the stupid hat, yet there was something off with her. Her skin had a grayish tint to it, she looked clammy, eyes and nostrils red with irritation and her mascara was running. Laura Cunningham looked just as terrible on the outside as she was inside.

And for once, she scared you.

“Laura! I thought you were headed out of town for your trip.” Laura’s stare was even colder than you’d ever seen it, unnaturally icy blue eyes both vacant and filled with a deranged sort of rage. You expected her pupils to turn into slits any second, it would be the last physical trait she’d need to resemble a demon.

Stepmother from hell, indeed.

“Mmm, I’m sure you were looking forward to that,” Her voice was soft, almost gentle and nothing about it was kind. It was as if to coax you forward to her, lull you into a sense of ease before striking. You were reminded of the anglerfish, and the glow of their fin ray. They used it to draw unsuspecting prey towards the light before they were devoured.

You took a small step back. She took one forward.

“I suppose I’ll just have to attend next year, I’ll be skipping the conference this year. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to do much learning or networking with my head plastered in a toilet bowl. I seem to have come down with something. Do you know what my symptoms are?” She asked, voice so sugary sweet and thick.

“Uhm. I-I’ve been on my period. Maybe we synced?” You hated how small your voice sounded.

Laura’s lips pressed into a thin, cruel smile, “No. I haven’t been throwing up with a cramping stomach because of my period. I’ve been vomiting non-stop because a little slut under my roof is trying to kill me. And do you know who that psychotic little tramp is?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, mouth parting in shock. Did your stepmother just call you a slut?

“ANSWER ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!” She bellowed, making you jump and gasp. You’d never heard Laura raise her voice like that, it dropped several octaves and she was staring at you with nothing but pure hatred burning in her eyes.

All you could do was shake your head. You were terrified, but you weren’t about to play her game. You were neither a slut nor a tramp and it was clear, regardless of what you’d say or do, she’d be unleashing her wrath upon you.

Laura chuckled without humor, “You really are just a stupid, insignificant bitch, aren’t you? I open up my home to you and you do nothing but cause trouble every time I so much as turn my head. I have been nothing but kind to you, even after you wrecked my home. I’ve been an angel. But putting worms in my food?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t touch your food, I just got home from classes. An—And I didn’t ask for any of this, I didn’t ask to move here.” You could see tears beginning to blur your vision, welling up and threatening to cascade over your lower lashes. They didn’t. You refused to cry in front of her. Refused to give her that satisfaction.

“Oh, please.” Laura scoffed, looking at you in bewilderment, “Did you want to stay in the house where your mother was sliced and diced? Was that a comfort for you?”

“You know that’s not what I meant, I didn't want to start my life over in some town full of ignorant people.” You gritted out, hand clenching the bag of gummy worms.

“Ignorant people, and yet—you still don’t fit it in. Telling isn’t it?”

Despite your fear, you felt your own rage starting to build within you and before you could stop yourself, you spat out “What do you care? You never wanted me here. You just wanted my dad here in your clutches and you knew that wouldn’t happen if we hadn’t moved. He would have never chosen you over my mom.”

Laura sneered, “It’s not much of a choice when she’s rotting in some coffin, six feet under, is it? I’m sure she’s relieved to be done with you and all the disgusting things you do for attention.”

“Shut up!” You demanded, seething now as the devil incarnate dared to speak about your mother in such a disrespectful manner. Laura was only able to sleep in a bed alongside your father—wear that tacky ring on her finger because your mother had tragically lost her life.

Laura wouldn’t be but a mosquito in the room if your mother were alive.

You hadn’t been expecting the strike that came next, hadn’t been prepared for Laura to pull her arm back and swing it forward, cracking your cheek so hard you almost spun. You yelped, hand reaching up to press against the skin of your cheek, feeling it throb and sting under your touch.

She fucking hit you. You gaped at her in disbelief and Laura didn’t look remotely apologetic.

“I am beyond tired of you and I am not going to wait until some maniac guts me to be rid of you. Especially when you’re already a threat to my life. No. I won’t stand for it, so I took it upon myself to begin your admittance to Hawkins National Psychiatric Center.

Your blood ran cold as images of the unsettling ‘center’ flooded your mind. You’d heard of it before, horror stories told amongst your peers. A psych ward. And Laura Cunningham was going to have you committed.

“No, please. No.” You whispered, voice laced with fear.

“It’s for the good of everyone,” Laura began, leering over you. “You don’t belong here. Your place is locked up, solitary confinement where no one will have to see you ever aga—

THUNK.

Laura let out the smallest of gasps.

You watched the unsettling blue of her eyes give away to whites and red veins as they rolled to the back of her head, her body going limp as she tipped forward and fell face first to the ground. Your mouth dropped open as you watched her collapse, gurgling and twitching on the ground for just a few seconds before she went still. Then your gaze flitted to Eddie, who stood tall with your old sewing machine clutched in his hand, a corner stained red.

Your eyes flashed back down to Laura, and they widened in size when the pink of your carpet began to turn a bright red, blood seeping out of her skull to pool around her head and soak into the floor.

Eddie made a grunt that sounded more so like a noise of satisfaction and tossed the sewing machine back into the closet.

You heard them before you saw them. Eddie had found the small pair of scissors included with your sewing machine and clipped them in the air before he bent down. You could only watch, stunned silent and with morbid curiosity as Eddie snipped your stepmother’s ear off.

“Oh, god…” You finally found your voice, eyes darting anywhere else to avoid seeing the skin severed. You breathing became labored, chest rising and falling rapidly as you staved off a panic attack while your undead friend cut the ear from Laura’s dead body.

Eddie held it up in triumph, like it was some sort of medal rather than a human ear.

“Wha─? Why─?” You couldn’t even finish a sentence and Eddie must have noticed how distraught you were. He rose from the floor, stepping over Laura’s body to pull you into his arms and despite what had just occurred, you returned the embrace; arm slipping under his to clutch at the back of his shoulder, desperate for the comfort he was offering. His hand rubbed circles over your back and you leaned your cheek against Eddie’s shoulder, stare never once leaving Laura’s body as you whimpered.

When he pulled back—just enough to be able to look at your face—he held the ear up, towards you.

You knew exactly what he was asking you to do.

”Eddie…I—I can’t. I can’t do that…We have to bury the body first.” You placed a hand on his chest, leaning into him again as you both turned your heads to stare at someone who was no longer a problem for you. For the first time, in a very long time, you felt safe.

Eddie had rescued you.

Moving the body was surprisingly easy. You’d expected Eddie’s limbs to be fragile for some reason, a foolish thought considering he’d so easily crashed through your window that first night. Eddie actually possessed a great deal of strength, easily lifting Laura’s body—wrapped in sheets—and carrying her downstairs.

Movement seemed to be getting easier for him, limbs that had been out of use for years returning to life and unstiffening just as he had. If his arms could support Laura’s body with no problem, you wondered what had happened to his missing hand in the first place.

You made sure the coast was clear before you pulled your bus up the driveway and Eddie placed the body in the back. It obviously hadn’t been strapped down, so while you drove to the cemetery, Laura’s body was rolling around, banging against the sides of the Volkswagen. Eddie just turned up the music you’d been playing.

The cemetery was vacant, thanks to the relatively early time of the day. Most people still hadn’t gotten off of work yet, which made this easy for you and Eddie. It wasn’t the most respectful thing to do—you were just out of options. A grave had already been dug out, for some poor recently deceased soul (not Laura, she could go to hell), so, the two of you had quite literally dumped Laura’s body into the empty hole and covered her with a layer of dirt so she’d go unnoticed when they’d lower the coffin, of whoever’s grave this was, into it.

After the deed was done, the two of you stood side-by-side, staring into it.

“Is death comforting?” You asked, breaking the silence. Eddie didn’t answer, didn’t even grunt, so you turned your head to the side to find him already staring at you.

He shook his head.

“Good. C’mon.” You gave the burial plot, now and forever housing Laura, an extremely and aggressively disrespectful finger, and tugged Eddie back to the bus. He went willingly after kicking some more dirt into it.

When the two of you returned home—after you briefly stopped for ice cream while Eddie waited in the bus—you’d gotten straight to work; Eddie’s head in your lap as you sewed the ear into place.

While you threaded the needle through the skin, Eddie waited patiently, thumb playing with your fishnets. Once you knotted the string and used your teeth to nip off the excess, you admired your work.

Good stitching, secure and it wouldn’t fall off. The coloring was a bit odd, skin appearing obviously more lively than Eddie’s dull gray-green tint. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Done.” You announced, hands resting on the mattress at your sides. Slowly, Eddie rose to a sitting position, head shifting around to face you, “What’s the survey say? Ear any good? Hear anything?”

Those big, deep brown, baby cow eyes of his looked despondent as he shook his head.

“Mm-mm.”

You sighed, feeling a bit despondent yourself. He’d saved you from a life of medicated compliance and padded walls, and you couldn’t even get the human ear you’d stitched to the side of his head to work. You felt guilty knowing you couldn’t make him whole again, as he so desperately wanted to be. Couldn’t be his blue fairy.

You reached your fingers up, tips brushing alongside the soft outer edge of his ear. How funny that an appendage that had once belonged to the nastiest person you’d ever encountered, a woman who hated your very existence, was now endearing because it was a part of the guy before you. Your friend. Your protector. What had taken place that afternoon would no doubt lead to trouble, but you knew Eddie hadn’t acted out of malice.

He’d simply wanted to help you. And—okay, yes, he got an ear out of it, but it didn’t work. What mattered is that you weren’t alone anymore. You had someone that actually cared about you. Enough to kill for you, even.

It felt…like you mattered to someone.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled in disappointment, “I really did think it was gonna work, too. Guess Laura’s still useless, even when she’s dead.”

Your hand dropped back into your lap as the two of you simultaneously heaved out sighs.

“At least you have something there, you know?” You tried to see the positive side, keep Eddie happy, “Like nipples with boob jobs. The dial doesn’t work but you can still turn the knob.”

He made a humming sound, contemplating the analogy, weighing it as his head tilted this way and that way.

“Maybe it’ll catch up with you later, like the rest of your body. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you getting better at moving around.” You teased, nudging your shoulder playfully against his.

Eddie stiffened and you thought you might have offended him, “I mean—I’m not paying super duper close attention or anything, I just like to watch you—It’s not like I see a living dead guy every day.”

“Unngh.” Eddie seemed to pay no attention to your word vomiting, pointing at a sharpie on your nightstand.

“What? This?” You reached over and snagged it, offering it to him. He carefully took it from your hands, his hardened fingers brushing over your soft ones, and awkwardly popped the cap off with his thumb.

Your eyebrows shot up as Eddie began doodling on the skin of your hand near your thumb and index finger.

“Why did I think you were illiterate?” You mused aloud and Eddie briefly stopped to glare at you and grunted, unamused, “You can’t blame me, you could have picked up a pen and paper this entire time, hell—I have an Etch A Sketch you could have been using instead of making me decipher your ‘uuunnngghhss’.” You did your best impression of his zombie grunting and he put the sharpie between his thighs so he could flick the cap at you.

Like an expert dodger, you lifted your hand just in time for it to bounce off your palm as you giggled and he went back to finishing up his little doodle.

A lightning bolt.

Your lips pulled into a soft smile as you admired it, something warm pooling in your belly. It was cute and there was something very attractive to you about walking around with Eddie’s little sketch on you.

An Eddie Was Here, if you will.

And then it hit you. Lightning.

“OH.”

Eddie grunted, pleased that you’d picked up on what he was trying to convey.

“But how are we gonna…” You trailed off, brows furrowing as a montage of the two of you played in your head; sticking a metal rod in the ground with Eddie holding onto it as you waited for some approaching storm to electrocute him. The only problem was the weather forecast for the week predicted nothing but sunshine and clear, starry nights. No electrocution for the week. Unless…. “Oh my god.”

You turned to Eddie, grinning almost maniacally, “I’m a genius.”

Forty minutes later, you found yourself staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror Chrissy had set up inside the tan shack. It was softly aglow with pink and warm hued fairy lights, and neon blue coming from the tanning bed. One of her beauty pageant crowns was placed on your head, and you had to admit, it did make you feel pretty. It looked good on you, too. Huh. Maybe you should have done pageants, could have won one, even.

Sparks flew from the tanning bed, some feet away, with Eddie inside of it.

It was the next best thing to actually being struck by lightning. Well, it was either the tanning bed or electrocuting him in the small pool with a plugged in radio, but you didn’t want to get wet.

You grabbed a little fairy wand, no doubt part of one of Chrissy’s pageant costumes—probably Galinda—and posed with it, pleased with your reflection. Your hair was frizzy and it somehow added to your allure.

You could rock with this confidence thing for a while if it made you not hate yourself like usual.

The tanning bed’s buzzing whirled down until it was silent, save for a few random sparks, and the bed opened up, top lifting to reveal Eddie laying in a cloud of smoke, wearing those little goggles you’d insisted on to protect those pretty eyes of his.

You got up to check on him, tapping his chest with the end of the wand, “You baked enough?”

He groaned as he sat up and dinged his head on the top of the tanning bed and you flinched, dropping the wand.

“Ooh, yeah, I’ve been there too.”

Grabbing onto his hand, you helped pull him out of the tanning bed to sit on the edge and sat beside him, pushing the goggles up his large forehead and pinning away his bangs.

Eddie didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly. He was baked alright, that voltage was no joke.

“Eddie,” You leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Can you hear me in there?”

No reaction.

“EDDIE MUNSON, CAN YOU HEAR ANYTHING I AM SAYING?!”

To your amazement, Eddie flinched away from your shrieking, and with his face turned to you, you noticed he looked different, skin more…skin like. Not the leather you’d noticed before. He still hadn’t answered you, so you kept going, “IS THAT A YES—YEAH?”

Eddie groaned out, face affronted as you continued to scream at him and your shrieking turned into screams of excitement. Eddie joined you in yelling (well, he tried, it was very loud groaning) when it dawned on him.

It worked. Eddie Munsons had two working ears.

“Oh my god!” You flung yourself at him and immediately jolted away when you got shocked. Eddie reached out for you, resting his hand on your shoulder, “No, it’s okay, that was on me. I got too excited, but oh my god! Eddie! It worked! We got you a working ear!”

You were beaming, felt like you’d cracked the secret of life. And it looked like Eddie was trying to smile at you, corners of his lips pulled up just a tad.

The two of you looked ridiculous, you with your frizzy hair, crown and fairy wand, and Eddie with his electrocuted hairdo, tanning goggles making his bangs look insane and a slightly discolored (actually, it was looking more like his skin tone now, bizarre) ear, with one earring and one hand.

You glanced down at your arm; specifically, at Eddie’s arm resting against it. The one that lacked a hand.

Well, you’d already started.

“I think I know someone who can give you a hand.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

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scuderiahoney · 2 months

Text

a hockey au social media au / mini blurb

notes: this is my very first social media au! thank you so much to @theemporium for making the notification lockscreen for me, and @lightsoutletsgo for smau inspiration, tips, and encouragement! bunnyrabb1t is y/n’s instagram! think that’s all!

bunnyrabb1t

liked by maxverstappen33, oscarpiastri and 56 others

bunnyrabb1t fall semester: ✔️

landonorris why

landonorris I look like a 5 year old on the first day of school

bunnyrabb1t the smartest 5 year old!!!

maxverstappen33 we are so proud of you son

landonorris I hate it here

charles_leclerc officially on bunny’s instagrammmm ✔️

carlossainz55 … where?

charles_leclerc on the ice!

carlossainz55 not sure that counts cabron

lilymhe the collage!! new project?

bunnyrabb1t maybeeeee

oscarpiastri great semester!

oscarpiastri cool pics!

oscarpiastri & a great grade in physics to top it off!

bunnyrabb1t look at us go!

landonorris

liked by bunnyrabb1t, maxverstappen33 and 221 others

landonorris mood

maxverstappen33 mood

charles_leclerc mood

carlossainz55 mood

alex_albon moon

georgerussell63 *mood

alex_albon fuck off

bunnyrabb1t mood???

landonorris why so unsure?

oscarpiastri she doesn’t play hockey, she will never understand

bunnyrabb1t i hate it here

The second he sees the notification that the grade has been posted, he texts you. He types and deletes and retypes the message at least a billion times. When he finally sends it, his heart is pounding harshly in his chest. He stares at the screen of his phone until his eyes burn. When it starts to buzz in his hand, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Hi,” he answers, hoping he sounds normal.

“Hey, Osc- is everything okay?” You ask, voice full of concern.

“Yeah, no, everything is fine,” he says, clearing his throat. “Sorry to bug you. I just saw that they posted the final grades for physics.”

You make a noise of distress, and he smiles softly at the sound. “Oh, god.”

“Thought we could check together?” He suggests, cringing at the way he says it and the idea itself. “I don’t know, I just thought maybe-“

“That would be really nice, actually,” you say, letting out a slow breath. “Let me go find my laptop, hold on.”

He waits on the line. He can hear you shuffling around in what’s probably your parent’s house. He wonders if you have a dog, or any pets. He’s never asked. He thinks of his family dog at home, who is staying with the dog sitter while his family visits him in the US this year, and something about that makes his chest hurt.

“Okay, I’ve got it, opening it now,” you say. “How’s your break been?”

He turns back to his own laptop on the desk. “It’s been good. Quiet, right now, because everyone’s at the hotel, but it’s been nice to have them here.”

“That’s awesome,” you say, sounding genuinely excited for him. “Got fun plans the next few days?”

“My mum makes the plans,” he replies, scrolling the wheel on his mouse absentmindedly. “I just roll with them.”

You laugh, and then he hears you sigh. “Okay. I’m logged in.”

“Ready?” He asks, quietly.

“No,” you sigh. “I don’t want to retake physics, Oscar.”

“You won’t have to,” he says, his cursor hovering over the View Final Grade button. “I know it.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just get it over with,” you say.

He wonders what you look like right now. He almost wishes he’d asked for a video call, because he finds that suddenly he misses seeing your face terribly. If he knows you well enough, you’re probably criss cross applesauce on the bed, lower lip pinched between your teeth, brows furrowed.

“Alright. Three, two, one…” he says.

He clicks the button. The screen lights up brighter, and he blinks. He’s got an A, no plus or minus, but it’s good enough. He’s happy about it. Then he hears you let out a long, slow breath, and his stomach sinks.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks, quietly.

You’re quiet for a few moments, and then you say, “B plus. Holy shit! I mean, I know it’s not an A but- I really thought I was going to fail-“

Oscar lets out a breath, then. “Fuck yeah! B plus is great!”

“A B plus means I don’t have to retake physics,” you say, and Oscar laughs.

“I knew you’d be fine,” he says, heading over to sit on his bed.

“Yeah, yeah, you told me so.” You say. “Couldn’t have done it without you, y’know.”

He flops onto his back on the bed, feeling his cheeks go red. Maybe it is for the best that it’s not a video call. “Yeah, you could’ve,” he says. “But it was nice to have a study buddy.”

You laugh at that. He thinks he can almost hear you rolling your eyes. He feels the silence stretch on for a few seconds- it’s comfortable silence, but the reason he called is over now. He doesn’t want to hang up. He wants to keep talking.

“Got any fun plans?” He asks, and when you launch into your answer, he smiles.

The conversation goes on for nearly an hour, by the time it’s all said and done. He stares at his ceiling and listens to your voice, chiming in when he’s needed or when he has something to add. But mostly, it’s nice to just listen. He’s missed hearing what you’re up to.

When you hang up, it’s with a promise to talk soon. The beep of the call ending makes his heart feel just a little heavy. He falls asleep with his phone still in his hand, and hopes he wakes up to a notification from you.

bunnyrabb1t added to their story

landonorris replied to your story: safe flight!

bunnyrabb1t thanks lan!

maxverstappen33 replied to your story: just remember the plane is in pudding!

bunnyrabb1t jello, max. but thanks. see you soon!

oscarpiastri replied to your story: safe travels! headed back to campus?

bunnyrabb1t yes!

bunnyrabb1t if you’re free we should hang out tomorrow?

oscarpiastri I am so free and so bored

bunnyrabb1t good news i’m great at curing boredom

maxverstappen33 added to their story

landonorris replied to your story: reppin the team even on break that’s our girl!

maxverstappen33 she said “ew stop” 🤢

landonorris yeah. that tracks

oscarpiastri replied to your story: Can you guys hurry back with the snacks?

maxverstappen 🙄

bunnyrabb1t added to their story

oscarpiastri liked your story

alex_albon replied to your story: can I have my girlfriend back?

bunnyrabb1t hold on let me ask

bunnyrabb1t she says my cooking’s better. soz albono

alex_albon :(

maxverstappen33 replied to your story: no invite?? 😔

bunnyrabb1t max in what world is this something you want to be invited to

maxverstappen33 I made so many collages with you while you were injured 😔

bunnyrabb1t this is a vision board not a collage

maxverstappen33 they look similar to me 😔

bunnyrabb1t they’re different. but we can make one the next time i come over

maxverstappen33 😌

find part 4 here!

main taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully @arian-directioner @racingheartsposts @sakuramxchii @mynamejeff5

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @verstoppenheimer @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat t @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @avg-golden-retriever @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom

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awfcspencer · 1 month

Text

Finals Week or Final Week? || ingrid engen x mapi león x reader

prompt: Ingrid has an idea to help you study, Mapi is along for the ride

warnings: mdni 18+ smut, fingering, orgasm denial, praise, oral, established relationship

Finals week, hell week, or otherwise known as genuinely the worst week possible for any university student. Finals week not only stripped you of any free time you had, but it also made you question every single life decision you had made up until this point. In other words, finals week was pure humiliation and incredibly humbling, knowing the information was no longer “common knowledge” and it actually required studying, much to your disappointment. Was it finals week or your final week, only time would tell.

Two essays, three exams, and two projects were on your to-do list for the upcoming week and you felt yourself tempted to take the pen you’d been using to take notes and shove it so far into your skull that you would never have to do homework ever again. It probably would have helped if you’d spent the time in class actually paying attention, asking questions, or maybe even taking notes, but no, instead you occupied your time by mindlessly scrolling on your phone and playing mini games on your computer. Either way, the damage had been done and here you were trying to cram a whole semester of learning into just one night.

Tonight’s objective was studying for your major chemistry exam that was worth 60% of your final grade in nearly just 12 hours. You hadn’t even realized you’d spent 20 minutes rereading the same paragraph over and over, the words on the page still not clicking in your brain. To make matters worse, once you looked away from the textbook, the words completely vanished from your mind immediately.

You’d thought about crying, giving up, and throwing your computer and textbook off the balcony and then yourself next nearly every 15 or so minutes, but each time you almost stopped, a little voice in your head reminded you just how smart you were and how you could do this, the voice belonged to your Norwegian girlfriend who had repeated the sentences several times throughout the dreaded week to you.

You’d made little to no progress and your impending demise was on the horizon, but still you continued to study, hoping for either a miracle by the grace of God himself in the morning or for a car to hit you on your walk to class rendering you unable to take the exam, either option seemed fine at the moment.

You’d already made Ingrid promise to not let the Spaniard into the makeshift office in the guest room you’d been studying in when finals week started, knowing you would get absolutely nothing accomplished with the defender in your presence, and right now you needed complete silence, something the tattooed defender was physically incapable of doing even for any longer than a mere 2 minutes.

You’d heard a soft knock of the door and you shouted come in, knowing it was the Norwegian because Mapi would never politely knock before entering a room. You’d made no effort to peel your eyes from your computer screen that showed a video of your professor explaining how to balance equations, a portion of the study guide you had been completely struggling with.

“How is it going?” Ingrid whisperingly asked into your ear from behind you, her strong hands found your tense shoulders, kneading and massaging the skin, peering her eyes to stare at the mess you’d made on the desk with crumbled up pieces of paper and highlighters scattered across the table haphazardly.

“Oh yeah super good, at this rate I’ll have everything learned by next year.” You told her sarcastically, pointing to the large stack of flashcards that you hadn’t even made a dent in. You’d spent more time trying to make the cute little flashcards with various terms and definitions that you hadn’t even really been studying, focusing instead on drawing little side pictures to go alongside the cards.

“Try two years,” you heard your other girlfriend yell from the living room.

“Oh screw you León. I’d like to see you try to balance equations.” You yelled back in retaliation.

“Don’t pay her any mind.” Your girlfriend told you, “Dinner’s ready, want to come eat? Take a small break?”

“I can’t. I need to study. I have to pass this exam.”

You didn’t have time to eat, you didn’t have time to do anything that wasn’t stare at your computer screen and recite periodic table elements back to the technology as if it were a study buddy.

You were a good student, at least you had been in high school, never missing a single day of class and turning in all of your assignments on time, getting good grades throughout the four years. But college was different, once you’d skipped one class, it made it easier to skip them all, somewhere along the way you’d fallen into the trap and perhaps skipped a few too many classes, and now here you were paying the consequences.

It was either study until your eyes fall out and hope by some saving grace you pass the class or retake the course again next year, and you really did not want to have to subject yourself to another grueling year of boring chemistry. It was now or never.

Ingrid didn’t reply, instead pecking a small kiss to the side of your cheek, bidding you good luck and reminding you that if you changed your mind her and Mapi will be eating at the table. You’d sent her a firm nod in response and refocused your attention to your studies.

“She’s not coming?” Mapi asked when Ingrid returned to the kitchen without you by her side.

She shook her head, a small frown cemented on her face as she prepared the plates. “I’m worried about her, she’s been cooped up in that room for long hours all week.”

Mapi nodded and recalled your very late arrival in bed each night this week and her mouth formed a similar frown that Ingrid’s face had. She remembered how you’d had your nose shoved in a book nearly every day, waving off every attempt the brunette had made to sidetrack you once she returned home from training, trailing to the guest room not much longer after the two footballers arrived back.

When Mapi looked at Ingrid, she looked really lost in thought, so Mapi also pretended to be brainstorming ideas on how to help, but in all actuality, she was daydreaming of how she was going to tease Alexia the next morning at training.

“I’ve got an idea.” The Norwegian said drawing Mapi out of her trance, “But I’ll need your help.”

“Yeah of course, anything for princesa. What are we doing to do?” Mapi asked jumping to her feet and silently clapping her hands, she didn’t like watching you run yourself dry nearly every single day, it hurt her heart, so she was eager to help make you feel better in any way she could.

“Can you be a good girl for me María? Can you be a good girl and help out our stressed kjæreste?”

The honorific and full name sent chills down the defender’s spine immediately, her body quickly becoming rigid and her eyes widened, completely focused on Ingrid. Mapi noticed her large, mischievous smirk and wondered what Ingrid possibly had in mind.

“I can be a good girl, I can.” She pleaded, although she still wasn’t quite sure what Ingrid’s great solution was, but she could already tell she was going to enjoy it as anticipation bubbled in her stomach.

If you’d been present during the conversation, you would have endlessly teased the older girl for her quick submissiveness to the Norwegian. Poking fun at the fact that she liked to act big and bad, but both you and Mapi knew who really wore the pants in the relationship, and Ingrid would always be there to give either of you a quick reminder if you’d forgotten. You usually fell somewhere in between bratty and submissive, it was a line you liked to tetter on often depending on the day.

Ingrid dragged Mapi in for a searing kiss, nipping at her bottom lip a bit before pulling apart and saying, “Good girl, why don’t you go get elskling a bit more relaxed, yeah?”

Mapi nodded frantically before shuffling towards the guest room where you were still located studying. She opened the door and saw you hunched over your computer, taking notes with one hand and running the other through your hair, clearly stressed over whatever subject you were currently studying.

She ushered herself over to you, closing your computer in one quick motion and forced herself into your lap, immediately attaching her lips to yours. You’d met her lips eagerly, letting out a small moan when the defender bit your lip, and then you remembered what you were doing before your girlfriend interrupted you.

“Maps seriously get off, I need to study.” You told the older girl, trying your best to shove her off your lap. Once you managed to get her stronger build off of you, you returned to your notes with a loud huff.

She instead picked you up in a bicep curl motion and threw you as if you were weightless onto the bed. You didn’t even have time to react before Mapi reconnected your lips in a passionate, hungry kiss, her fingers curiously grazing the skin under your sweatshirt.

“Come on mi amor, you’ve been working all day. Let me help you relax a little bit.” She cooed.

It didn’t necessarily seem like a terrible idea when you thought about it, you’d made real progress after you located a quizlet that nearly had every answer you were searching for in the textbook and you were almost finished with the study guide.

Before you had time to disagree, she licked and sucked at your neck, leaving a trail of little pinkish marks all the way down to your collarbone. Mapi’s large hands helped you discard your sweatshirt and bra from your body in one swift motion and you pulled the defender by her chin and brought her lips to your nipples, she takes each into her mouth, sucking and circling her tongue, making you yelp with a little pressure from her teeth.

“You needy little thing, I adore you.” Mapi purred when high, desperate moans left your mouth as she snuck a hand down under your underwear and felt how soaked you were already. Your back arches as she runs her hands over your skin, you can feel your pulse racing as she sinks into you a sensitive spot on your chest, leaving marks you know you’ll have to hide tomorrow.

You saw Ingrid enter the room out of the corner of your eye and she immediately called for Mapi to come to her. You watched as she undressed the Spaniard painfully slow in front of you, whispering to each other sentences that you weren’t quite able to pick up on.

The aching desire between your thighs grew as you watched your girlfriends begin to make out, their hands wrapped around each other’s waists pulling themselves closer to one another, “Hello? Aren’t I supposed to be the one relaxing?” you asked.

The two of them shared another hushed whisper and then Mapi returned between your thighs, pulling off your underwear. She begins by kissing your inner thighs and rubbing her large hands up and down your quads, slowly tracing her fingers along your body everywhere except where you need her most.

Ingrid takes a seat on the desk chair that you previously occupied, fiddling with the buttons on her blouse and escaping her bottom layer. She watches the two of you on the guest bed intently, her fingers now curiously roaming her own body.

You lean back more into the pillows behind you, lips searching for a kiss. Mapi meets them and she takes the opportunity to slide her hand over your cunt, ghosting her pads of her fingers over your clit and eventually toying with the sensitive bud. You can see the devilish smile on her face at the fact that you’re already swollen and puffy.

“Don’t be a tease María.” Ingrid called out, forcing you to look over at her, she sat now naked, running her finger through her own fold, letting out pornographic moans that were music to your ears.

Mapi’s middle finger slips through a flood of wetness and slides inside you. She rubs little circles on your clit with her thumb as she traps you in another intoxicating kiss.

“Feels so good, right, mi amor?” She asks you when she picks up her pace, you vigorously nod in response, not being able to form a verbal one.

Your attention shifted between watching Mapi slam into you and watching Ingrid slam into herself, each was a deliciously erotic sight, getting you closer to the edge.

Ingrid then speaks up, “Elskling, what is atomic mass?”

You thought you were hearing the voice of your chemistry professor in your ear until you looked over at your Norwegian girlfriend who held your previously made flashcards in one hand and her fingers buried in cunt with the other. You thought she couldn’t be serious so you focused your attention back on the Spaniard.

“Stop María.” Ingrid said as Mapi slowed down her pace and pulled out of you, which had you clutching and clawing at her to keep her close but she leaves you empty. You desperately moan at the absent feeling, clenching and throbbing around nothing.

“Ingrid you cannot be serious.” You looked up at Mapi and her eyes were solely focused on what Ingrid was telling her to do, the damn defenders submissiveness was comical if you weren’t desperate and needy at the moment.

“Don’t make me ask again. What is atomic mass? Get the question correct and Mapi can continue.”

“It is the total mass of protons and neutrons in an atom.” You huffed, sending Ingrid a slightly annoyed glance.

“Good girl, go ahead María.”

At lightening quick response, Mapi plunged her fingers back into you, curling her fingertips against your walls. Ingrid leaves her spot on the chair and lies to the left of you on the bed, her hands now toying with your perked nipples.

“And how about atomic number?” She asked.

You now understood that if you didn’t answer the question, Ingrid would tell Mapi to stop, and you could feel the splintering release in your stomach so you continued to answer Ingrid’s questions the best you could.

“Number of protons…” you started until a high-pitched moan let you mouth when Mapi attached her tongue to your already sensitive bud.

“Keep going or I am sure you understand the consequences.” The Norwegian teased while rolling your left nipple with her fingers.

“The number of protons in the nucleus of an atom.” You finished.

“Good girl, my smart, good, pretty girl.” She purred.

This back-and-forth little quiz went on for a few more questions, until you had nearly aced all of the flashcards and both girls could tell by your ragged, uneven breaths and the jerking of your hips that you were deathly close.

“María.” Ingrid said immediately grabbing the defenders attention, “Why don’t you help our smart girl out and let her finish. Our smart girl deserves an award.”

Mapi nodded and picked up her pace to an unrelenting tempo. Ingrid attacked your chest, running her tongue over your rock-hard nipples and leaving similar dark marks like the ones Mapi initially left, nipping and biting at the flesh.

It didn’t take long for your muscles to tighten around Mapi’s digits inside you, the shockwaves of a well-deserved orgasm running through your body. Mapi and Ingrid coaxed you through, uttering remarks of how proud and smart you were that only increased the explosions in your body.

Once Mapi helped you ride through your high, she fell onto the right side of the bed, leaving you nestled between your two girlfriends.

“Can we always study like that?” You asked jokingly.

The two laughed and Ingrid spoke, “Whatever our smart kjæreste wants, she gets.”

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