#<- made a tag for whatever the fuck this is because i know damn well its gonna happen again
Note
I want to see all the carnival AU bios again, but finding Zooble's is too hard, even when using the search. I hope there's a more organized way to view them.
(Trying to come up with nicknames that said characters would give my characters.)
CARNIVAL AU MASTERPOST + BOUNDARIES
Augh... I never know how to organize stuff! But here is a mini master post of the TADC Info Cards (edited):
The Main Cast (Minus Zooble :C)
Zooble ( Plus Zooble!!! :3)
Shiny Cards ✨
Lesser AI
THE GLOINKS!!!
Level layout
OFFICIAL COMIC:
The Entire Comic has also been dubbed by @volticglitch !! If you're not a reader, You can watch their dubs instead!! Here is the dub
Your best friend!
Jesterly duties
The hallway
Crying
First clue
Special event!
Foul language - a silly
CONCEPT ART:
Characters Relationship Chart ( Bonus, OC relationship Chart!)
The Tent
The Funhouse
Cutscene
Pomni expressions
Character design
Meet Pomni
ALT character skins (Bonus, Maid skins because of course I did)
Pomni expressions AGAIN!!! (and a bonus)
The Jester's Circus tent (and a bonus)
References
Shape language ramble
LOREEE:
Neck pieces
Neck pieces (prt 2)
Neck pieces (prt 3)
Silly Frilly
Toxic Positivity Duo
Quick Ragatha Doodle
The Rabbit
Non-sentient Pomni
Pity Laugh
First act of violence
First and only visit
DOODLE DUMPS:
First look
Meet Jax
Meet Ragatha
Meet Kinger
Meet Able
Zooble's room
Theatre shinanigans
Thanks for listening
Jax Doodles
Ragatha doodles (Feat. Kaufmo)
Caine doodles
Queenie?
Colored doodles
Eye popping
Jax Ko-fi request!
SILLIES:
Final boss Pomni Theory
Ofcourse you would
Shoulder Pads
test
omg showtime teeheeh ehehehe
CUTIES!!!
MORE SHOWTIME (HAVE I REALLY NOT ADDED THIS IN BEFORE??)
Carnival AU meets Original
its ok she's not drowning
The Amazing Digital... Circus???
A Christmas Carol Play!
Carnival Freakshow AU Merge!! (Freakshow AU by @hootbon)
BUZZBUZZ!! Fan character by @awful-little-goose
Whore Pomni Inside joke - more slutshaming
Pomni where yo pants at
shitpost doodles
SCANDAL!!
SCANDAL!! (alt)
Genderbend time!!
Stupid fucking doodles i made at like 11 pm
Stupid fucking doodles i made at like 11 pm (I dont know why I keep making these ToT)
stupid shinanigans involving Pomni's tent (Pomni's tent for context)
POMNI LET GO OF HIM!!!!!!!!
BUBBLE DAMN
Please hear her out guys
Kinger with no robe!!!
Bunnydoll real?!?!!?(Kofi request by amazing people :3)
Genderbend Jax!
Dollar store Carnival AU
Gangle simping over Able slay - Gangle PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER
Carnival GAINE!! - bro's so strong and cool and awesome
Flirty non-sentient pomni Inside joke (TW For suggestive themes): NON-CANON
Start
Context
Flirty non-sentient pomni (shitpost)
Pomni..........
Memory storage restart
the silly!!
no you're not.
oh god
someone paid me 10 bucks
SOMEONE PAID ME MORE MONEY
╔══ ❀•°❀BOUNDERIES/FAQ❀°•❀ ══╗
"Can I make OCs In Carnival?"
- Yess!! Multiple people already have and they make me so happy! do whatever, as long as you're happy and having fun!!
" Can I make NSFW?"
- Yas and slay, just be sure to warn and spoiler it, etc. etc. be responsible when posting NSFW!
" Can I make Fanfics?"
- Yes and please show me!! that would be lovely!!
" Can I dub/voice your stuff?"
- Yes but, I have only one rule... show me pleaaasseeee pls pls pls 🥺🙏
" Can I ship the characters/self ships/ OC x Canon?"
- Aughh.. this is gonna suck to explain cuz its a lot to ask..
You're allowed to ship any ship! My only boundary is that it doesn't include either Pomni or Caine being with others who are not eachother!
For example:
Ragatha x Jax ✅
Pomni x Jax❌
Kinger x Queenie✅
Kinger x Caine❌
As long as the ship does not include Pomni or Caine individually, I'm all aboard!! I respect Jax x Pomni shippers, as well as Kinger x caine shippers, I just don't like them myself and don't want to accidentally stumble upon them in the tag! I do apologize if that's a lot, it just makes me uncomfy! Bounderies can be very tight! :')
#The amazing digital circus#the amazing digital carnival#carnival au#pomni#caine#zooble#gangle#kinger#Ragatha#Jax#tadc#tadc fanart#the amazing digital circus fanart#queenie#kaufmo#able
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no you know what I'm going to scream about the stuff I talked about in the tags of this post publicly
I'm tired of the well-meaning "don't feel bad if your work only gets 20 notes your genius is what counts and do it for you!" bullshit. I've had a good handful of friends who have straight up DEACTIVATED in recent months because their work was not getting reblogged AT ALL. No, it wasn't from lack of not being well-liked, no it wasn't from lack of trying to make sure it was getting out there to the people they knew would engage with it. It was because no matter how much they were praised privately for their work, when push came to shove, absolutely NOBODY reblogged it and gave it the audience that it was due, and I'm tired of people shoving the "unsung genius" narrative as an excuse for it. Nothing excuses that. And the boop event really proved that.
because I know given the opportunity, indiscriminately pressing a button (sometimes 10 thousand times, as I did) is not beyond this website's capability. y'all loved doing that. and look at what it wrought. nothing but love and affection and happiness. just from a couple of quick clicks of a little paw button. sure. nobody knew who you booped but the other person (which is how likes used to work on this website, btw). there was an element of anonymity to it. but that is kind of the core of this website that no other social media platform still has: the ability to be anonymous. and hyper-curating a blog on here like you might on twitter or instagram to project an image is simply not viable. and hey. you wanna know a secret: literally nobody cares what you post or whether it goes with the "theme" of your blog or not. yeah. I know. CRAZY concept in this day and age. but literally. I myself have reblogged things that have had nothing to do with whatever I am currently fixated by and you know what happened to my follower count? not a damn thing. in fact, I actively try to reblog things specifically BECAUSE it's my friends who made them (even though I'm not always good at KEEPING UP WITH HOW MUCH THEY POST @prismatica-the-strange will NEVER GO UNRECOGNIZED by me).
And you know what fucking sucks? I have to deal with this too. surprise right? you ever wonder why I reblog fics or art I post like 20 times the day that I post them? do you ever wonder why I ask about tag lists and beg for asks all the time? IT'S BECAUSE EVEN I GET LIKE. 5 LIKES ON THE THINGS I POST. AND THE REST OF THE REBLOGS ARE MINE SO I CAN MAKE SURE THAT PEOPLE WHO WANT TO SEE WHAT I MAKE GET TO SEE IT. and I say that knowing that I'm certainly not an unpopular blog, or an unpopular writer. I know that people love the stories that I create. Hell, half of the people that I've talked to about lady terror have told me that they consider her to be canon (AND EVEN SOME!! THOUGHT SHE WAS!!! WITHOUT EVEN HAVING WATCHED THE SHOW! WHICH IS STILL SO SO WILD TO ME!!!) But especially in the last 4 years (which really dates this phenomenon), my posts, no matter how well received they've been amongst people I've talked to about them directly, I still go into the notes and at least half (often more than half) are MY reblogs to make sure people saw what I posted. and it happens every single time, and I can't tell you how much it crushes me considering that it used to be that I would be able to post it only once, and people would reblog it sometimes even HUNDREDS of times.
It's not about popularity. it never has been. it's not about anxiety. or shifting website cultures. even if you lurk, the simple fact is, that if you want people to keep making what you love. you have to reblog. your theme won't suffer because you reblogged a fanfiction that you really admire. your posting won't be ruined because you reblogged some fanart from someone in a different fandom. really. I promise. and if people do unfollow you for that? who needs em. followers come and go but you should NEVER have to cater to them. on this website it has ALWAYS been the other way around. lean into it. make it yours. put stuff you ACTUALLY WANT to be seen and that you love and appreciate on your blog. no matter how old it is, how new it is, no matter how niche or off-theme it is.
so please. if you really want to show your appreciation for someone's work? you reblog. it's really as easy as that. check the tags. add some when you reblog if you like. but please for the love of god reblog. it's as easy as booping and even more rewarding for the people who you reblog from. if you want to let someone know that their work is genius and appreciate it? show it. reblog. then DM them if you're too nervous to say what you want to say but not in a public forum. but for christ's sake. REBLOG.
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Pacify Her
Lando Norris x reader
•Tags: smut, toxic Lando, hate-fuck, makeup sex
•Loosely based on a song by Melanie Martinez with the same title.
•Wordcount: 1.6k
It was unbearable how Lando squeezed this new girl's thigh and whispered in her ear. You knew it was to make you jealous, he was a tease even more when you two were in a relationship. You had really bad arguments that let to the decision of splitting, but since you didn't want to break up the friend group, you agreed to just say the relationship ended on good terms and decided to be friends which was a total lie and both of you knew it.
Now, only a couple months after everything, Lando had shown up with a new "girlfriend" which drove you absolutely mad how uncouth he could be. Bringing this girl in your group out of the blue fully knowing that neither you nor himself had moved on from that deep, long term thing you had.
She looked at you like she wanted to be your friend and get your validation so bad. You didn't know if Lando had told her you were his ex. He didn't even dare mention it when he was introducing her. You automatically hated her, although her big brown eyes seemed lovely and innocent. She didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into. You pitied her cluelessness.
You noticed Lando's griny glances at you, he kept making sure you were looking before each kiss he left on her cheek. The bastard had all his moves coordinated and planned but you had been with him for too long not to see right through his facade.
You were at your limit, who was he to inflict this hurt on you after all that he had done?
Rage made your body dense as you walked towards Lando's house the night after, when you made sure nobody else was with him. His Friday nights had always been free on purpose to sleep until noon, game, and sleep again. You remember trying to wake him up for lunch and he was dead asleep because he had stayed awake to play with friends.
You rang and he buzzed the door open without asking. Walking towards the stairs you noticed the rose garden you had planted in a corner. The thought of Lando's face after a thorn had poked him in the arm and how he treated the flowers as his enemies forced your lips into a fainted smile. You hated that his memories made you happy. You hated it was him you had those memories with.
You pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on why you were here. Lando opened the door, a confused look on his face, "y/n? What is it why are you here?"
"We need to talk." And you stormed in.
"Please come in, make yourself comfortable." The sarcasm in his voice was familiar, and now that you weren't in love with him, infuriating.
"Want to talk about what?"
"About how you're being such an asshole."
"Excuse me?"
"Don't act like this Lando I know you did those things on purpose."
"Damn I don't know what you're talking about." He kept his sarcastic tone. You hated it.
You pushed his chest back in anger, "stop playing with me. You know damn well this girl you keep bringing is just a doll to mess with my head."
Lando smiled as if he had been expecting these words from you.
"This is way too low, even for you Lando."
"Everyone thinks we're friends, why can't friends introduce their new girlfriends to their other friends?"
"I'm not everyone. I know this is a lie stop trying to make it sound casual."
"What do you expect me to do? Stay single until you're over me?"
"Yes!" The loud sound that exited your mouth surprised you as it did Lando. You never planned to sound weak or needy. You just wanted to get closure, "look. I'm not trying to control your life or whatever, but what you're doing to make me jealous is messy and fucking pathetic. Fix it. Goodbye." And you started walking towards the door.
"Well did it work?" Lando's voice stopped you. He sounded sort of genuine for the first time in months.
You kept silent and still, wondering what to answer. Turning around to face him you said, "well do you love her?"
"Of course I do. She's very real."
You took one step closer, "stop lying."
Lando took a step closer to you, "stop being jealous."
You took one more step, "she looks way too innocent for you. I pity her."
Lando took another step , "I can teach her."
-"Funny."
-"I know."
-"You're insufferable."
-"I know."
Silence.
Now you were only one step away from eachother. Only one breath. You were mad at him and the tension felt heavy in the air as the sun was halfway set. His eyes looked crazy blue in the last golden rays of sunshine coming in fron his big windows. His face stingy and lips so soft it made you even more angry at him.
Your self control was getting shaky and you felt it shatter when Lando swinged his arms up to hold your face to kiss you deeply on the lips.
You squeezed your hand on his arm in protest to rip him off of you before it was too late but he was desperate.
He kept kissing you harder and harder like you gave him air to breathe.
You hated this. You hated the way his body pulled you in and you hated how it felt so good. He knew his way with you. Every single button, all the nooks and crannies.
You finally eased into the kiss, letting go of Lando's hoodie that was balled up in your fist and started to kiss him back.
His hands unzipped your sweatshirt and pulled it off your arms as soon as he felt that you wanted this as well. You let him. He slipped his hand under your tshirt, pinching your belly, messaging your back.
You let out a heavy exhale.
"I missed you." He whispered into your mouth, putting his lips on yours before you could say anything back.
Lando's hands moved down to your jeans but you held onto his hand to prevent him from going on. He stopped kissing you.
It was all too much for you and you hated him for being so good at this. You stared dead into his eyes, knowing full well that you were helpless, and said, "you fucking bastard."
He giggled when you pressed your debating lips on his again.
You let him kiss your lips, your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your belly. You let him get down on his knees for you, between your legs.
His wet tongue on you made you jump in a surprising pleasure. The tip of his tongue moving in circular motions, in search of the place that made you moan the loudest. You tried fighting the sensation but failed miserably when he raised his finger to your entrance, messaging and warning about what's to come.
The moan that left your lips after he pushed his finger inside you was involuntary. You could feel Lando smiling on your pussy with the sound. He kept moving his tongue with your hand in his curls; pumping his finger and pulling moans out of you until you felt like you could take it no more. That's when Lando pulled his now soaked finger out and stood up, Leaving you clenching around nothing.
He faced you again to continue his kisses; you could taste yourself on his lips as he took off your tshirt and your bra, leaving you completely naked in the middle of the house. He looked at you once more before taking off his own hoodie you've been pulling on to get rid of since the start, he turned you around and got closer. His bulge rubbing against your butt from under his sweatpants.
"You're so pretty." He whispered into your ear, "wait here okay?"
You turned around to see him almost run to his bedroom to get condoms and you got a chance to take a look at his smooth, tan skin as he walked back.
Lando kissed you shoulder and your back as he slowly bent you over the handle of the couch. Messaging your body as he bent on you to let you feel his skin, his pants were off, your could feel his hard dick against the back of your leg. He adjusted himself on you and pushed in. You weren't hesitant to moan anymore. His length inside you was a familiar sensation of pleasure after this long. He was all you needed.
Lando started pumping deeper into you, making you feel fully stretched. You could hear his little groans and exhales when he grabbed your neck to make you arch your back more, pulling your head towards his mouth. "I bet nobody fucked you like this since I was gone." And he started moving faster. You pushed back your body into his, blurring the lines infront of your eyes.
You came within seconds after that.
He pulled out of you. You turned around quickly, grabbed his shoulders and lead him to the couch to sit down.
"Could you ever teach her this?"
And you climbed on top of him, each leg on each side. Leading his still erect dick to your hole and pushing down on him. Lando threw his head back with a moan. You took his hands and put them on your ass. He squeezed his hands with every movement you made.
You started kissing under his ear, where you knew he was sensitive. Moans started turning into whimpers and he started pushing up his legs towards you. You both moved faster as you reached your high. You nails dug into Lando's shoulder and his hands tight around your back when you both came and you collapsed into his arms.
****
"What a stupid decision." You said through your panting and you both giggled since you knew you were going to make more.
(This is the first time I'm posting a smut one shot online sorry if it's short or lacking♡)
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#lando norris smut#f1 smut
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is it casual now?
chapter 1
summary: you and ellie agreed that this was just for a little fun - so what's the harm in her inviting you to joel's for a movie night?
word count: 2.3k
tags: nsfw, fingering (e and r receiving), angst, dub con?? i think?, does this count as public sex?, this shit's messy af y'all, mean reader, toxic relationship
a/n: i've wanted to write a fic based off this song for a while now. i've seen a few people write it (the song's a banger) but i only ever see ellie being written as the distant toxic one and tbh i don't think that matches her character so here's the opposite
also i hid a one last stop reference in here if you find it you get a prize (it's not hard to find)
if you wanna be tagged in the things i post, just lmk in the replies!
Joel was trying to decide what movie you should watch.
At least, Ellie thought he was. She could see the way his lips were moving - could even make out the words Dawn of the Wolf, whatever that meant - but she couldn’t actually hear him. She sat across from him at the dining table, nodding along, trying to school her expression into a pantomime of interest, but his words were drowned out by the ringing in her ears.
Your hand on her thigh crept higher.
Ellie shifted in the uncomfortable wood chair, uncrossing her legs only to recross them, and your hand didn’t move. You stroked slow circles into her jeans with your thumb; she would have thought it was absentminded if she didn’t know you so well. Ellie could see you in her peripheral. You smiled politely, nodding along as Joel listed off what movies he had found lately - it had become his mission to hunt for them while he was on patrol. (He always insisted that Ellie needed to be familiar with all the classics from before the outbreak.)
Somewhere past the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, Ellie heard Joel say her name. She blinked, shifted in her seat again, and replied intelligently, “Huh?”
He shook his head at her and laughed as he said, “Where you at, kiddo?”
She ran a hand through her hair, purposely avoiding looking at you - she knew she’d only find that shit-eating smile on your face. “Sorry, had patrol late last night. Yeah, that movie sounds cool.” She had no idea what movie he had suggested.
It didn’t matter much in the end. After switching off the lights, Joel sat back in his big old recliner (he’d looked like a fucking kid on Christmas morning when Tommy gave that to him), leaving the couch to you and Ellie. You leaned into her with your head on her shoulder; she had her arm draped over the back of the couch, not quite touching you. She was dancing a fine line between wanting to hold you and knowing you wouldn’t let her, but the tightrope was slipping from under her feet because you had put your fucking hand on her thigh again. She’d swear there was a damn magnet connecting your hand to her.
Ellie covered a gasp with a cough when your hand drifted between her legs. Your eyes were glued to the flickering television, but there was no hiding the small, satisfied smile on your lips. And she fucking hated herself for wanting to kiss it more than anything.
The tattered blanket you shared covered up the fact that the tips of your fingers were grazing across the seam of her jeans. Even the ghost of friction made her squirm, the movie becoming nothing more than white noise. You were too fucking bold, and her head spun when your nimble fingers undid the button and slid the zipper down so slowly it ached. When your fingertips dipped below the waistband of her boxers, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Joel. He was enthralled in the movie, and she couldn’t even pay attention to it; she hated herself for that too.
She knew she shouldn’t; she knew she should’ve grabbed your wrist, told you to stop so she could just enjoy the movie with her… with Joel. He’d been trying to plan a movie night with her for a week, and tonight she had finally been free from patrol. God, she shouldn’t have invited you, but when he asked if she wanted to bring a friend, of course your name had popped up.
She should have known it would be a mistake - an intoxicating one, but a mistake nonetheless. And when you dragged your fingers over her, pressing the lightest pressure to her clit, it took everything in her not to tilt her hips against your hand in search of friction.
Ellie bit down on her lip so hard she'd swear she tasted blood when you dipped just the tips of your fingers inside her. It was embarrassing how easy it was - how wet she already was and you had hardly even touched her. But when you circled her clit, your fingers already soaked, the shame burning in her chest evaporated. Her eyes fluttered, heat burning in her stomach, your touch setting her aflame. Her fingers dug into the back of the couch. She longed to touch you, to just wrap her arm around you and hold you close, press your head to her chest so you could hear how her heart reached for you.
Instead, she could only grip the couch behind your shoulder, gritting her teeth against the ache of it. You didn't even look at her, playing with her as though it were an afterthought, but there was no missing the smirk on your lips. She hated it; God, she wanted to kiss you.
Ellie didn't dare look at Joel - she didn't think she could handle seeing him so engrossed in the movie he had been so excited to show her while she sat only a few feet away, coming undone on his couch. She couldn't handle the shame rising in her throat again. If she looked at him, she was sure she'd be sick right there.
She tried so hard to keep it together - her hips ached from the force of holding them still, her lip surely cracked from biting it. Her chest burned with the moans she had to swallow like acid. But she couldn't keep it all in - it was overflowing. And when finally, the coil in her stomach threatening to snap, a low groan spilled from her lips, Joel turned to look at her.
Ellie didn't want to think about what he saw, but whatever it was, it made his brow pinch in concern. She couldn't meet his worried eyes when he said, “You okay, kiddo? You don't look too good.”
Your fingers hadn't even fucking slowed. You looked at her with a mask of concern, batting your eyes so innocently even as you pressed your fingers into her, curling them so you hit that spot that made her see stars. And then Ellie did grab you, gripping your shoulder in warning and glaring down at you. You wrinkled your nose, but relented and slid your fingers out of her; her grip tightened when you slid back over her clit. Fuck, she never should've invited you.
Ellie cleared her throat; she couldn't look at either of you without feeling sick, so she turned her gaze to the movie. What was it even about?
“Sorry, I just-” Her voice was strained, suffocating in her own throat. She felt like she was going to swallow her own tongue. The coil in her stomach tightened and she felt nauseous. She groaned again, and the words tripped over themselves in a rush when she said, “I don't feel good.”
Ellie stumbled to her feet, forcing you to withdraw your hand; when she glanced down, she could see that your fingers were wet and it made her stomach twist. Keeping one hand over her stomach to hide the fact that her fucking pants were undone, she hurried from the room, ignoring Joel when he called after her. She couldn't look him in the eye or else she might actually puke.
Making a beeline for the bathroom, Ellie slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, the wood cold against her back. She took a deep breath, counting the cracks in the ceiling until her heart finally stopped bashing against her ribs, her throat burning. Pinprick tears stung her eyes as she fixed her pants, her fingers shaking so hard she could hardly grasp the button.
Cursing under her breath, Ellie braced her hands on the bathroom sink, her shoulders sagging. Her eyes were rimmed red; she scrubbed her hands over her face roughly, willing her stomach to settle.
She shouldn’t have been upset, really. The first time your hand had found its way into her pants, all those months ago, you had made it perfectly clear what this was. She could still hear your voice from that night, saccharine sweet and smelling like the whiskey you had nabbed from her cabinet: Come on, Els, Jackson’s so boring. We can just have a little fun, right? She remembered the weight of your body when you climbed onto her lap, your thighs warm on either side of her hips, your hands pressing her back against the couch. She could still feel the way your breath had ghosted over her neck, your voice dripping with honeyed desire: It's just a little fun.
Her own eyes looked so unfamiliar, a stranger peering at her from the bathroom mirror.
Cursing again, she turned on the faucet, bending to splash water on her face - it was December and the water was so cold it numbed her hands. It was a welcome relief against her burning skin.
Ellie felt so fucking dirty it hurt. No matter how she scrubbed at her skin, rubbing it raw, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of it. The cold water stung her cheeks.
A knock on the door made her jump, cold water splashing down the front of her shirt. She cursed, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with a grimace before calling, “Give me a minute, okay?”
But you had never been very good at listening, had you? You didn’t even look surprised when you pushed the door open, ignoring her protest, and found Ellie leaning against the counter, water still dripping from her chin. If anything, you looked almost amused, quirking an eyebrow at her. It was the look you gave her every time you got her worked up, your eyes showing the laughter you bit back. She fucking hated that look.
Ellie glared over her shoulder at you, but there was no real malice behind it - even when she hated you, something in her still softened when you were around. A switchblade girl with a cotton candy heart.
You closed the door softly behind you, leaning back against it with a smug smile that she wanted to wipe off your face - she just wasn’t sure how she wanted to yet. Ellie could hear how your ego tinted your voice when you said, “Joel sent me to check on you. Probably thinks you're barfing your guts out or something.”
Ellie rolled her eyes, looking away from you and mumbling, “Yeah, I guess dinner didn’t sit well….”
You scoffed and the sound went straight to her stomach. She felt rather than saw you step behind her; she tensed when you placed your hands on her hips, leaning forward to put your chin on her shoulder. Her hands gripped the edges of the sink so hard she thought the porcelain might crack. She could feel the heat of your body all the way down her back, your hips pressing into her ass, and her traitorous heart fluttered embarrassingly.
Ellie met your eyes in the reflection, watching as your smile grew into something almost mocking. You placed a kiss on the back of her neck, pressing your words into her skin: “Damn, Els, I didn’t know Dawn of the Wolf got you so hot and bothered.” Your fingers pressed into her hips, pulled her back against you. She failed to smother the sigh it pulled from her. She hated how it made your smile widen, and she hated even more how much she wanted to fucking kiss it off your stupid face. She shivered when she felt your teeth graze over her neck, and almost missed it when you muttered, laughing, “God, you’re so fucking easy, you know that?”
Ellie shoved away from the counter, spinning on her heel and grabbing your wrist before you could flinch away. You had only blinked before she slammed you back against the wall, praying that Joel didn’t hear it. Her fingers wrapped so tightly around your wrist she could feel your pounding pulse, pressing it to the wall above your head. She slipped her thigh between your legs, pressing up into you, and she only had a moment to register that smug fucking grin before she slapped a hand over your mouth. She relished in the way your eyes flashed in something akin to fear. She had to find wins where she could, right?
Leaning forward so her nose brushed yours, Ellie growled into the back of her hand, “Don’t make a fucking sound.”
And she did get to wipe that cocky smile off your face. She kept her hand over your mouth, releasing your wrist to snake her arm between your legs. She muffled your moans, hissing when your nails dug into her biceps.
Joel was in the next room, she thought distantly. Joel was in the next room, watching the movie he had been so excited to show her. He was in the next room, concerned about her, waiting for her, and here she was pressing her best friend into the wall of his bathroom. She had your pants around your ankles, two - three - fingers pushing into you. She could feel the vibrations of your moans against her hand - she wanted to press her lips to yours and swallow them, knowing you would never let her.
It came too fast, Ellie pressing into you relentlessly if only to make you fucking shut up for once. Your body shuddered against her, and she wanted to hold you through it, but by the time it was over you were already pushing her away. When her hand fell from your mouth, you were smiling again. Maybe she was going to be sick after all.
@filtered-sunlight
#are you proud of me that this isn't 10k words#idk how many chapters i'll write#i'm kinda winging it rn#ellie tlou#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#lesbian smut#ellie x you#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#tlou smut#tlou angst#this is p angsty
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Down to the Crust
Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: You’ve set out on a very specific mission for Dean. The problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.
Request: Since reading your imagine, "Dean Gives You an Impossible Choice," I have not been able to shake it, one point specifically. I was wondering if I could request a fic where the reader is learning to bake pies for Dean. She's best friends with the boys, but she and Dean have undisclosed feelings for each other…
AN: You guys know I love baking shenanigans lol. This one is set at a particular time during season 14…
Song Inspo: “Joy” by Blackstreet
Word Count: 2.6K
Tags/Warnings: Flangst, hurt/comfort, hint of spice~
No, no, no, no, NO!
You did your best to scoop out the salt you’d just poured into the flour.
You can’t really be this dumb, you berated yourself. How could you confuse one white powdery thing for another? Salt vs. sugar—it wasn’t that hard!
You shook your head in simmering frustration. You decided to just dump the whole contents of the bowl, salty flour and all, into the garbage. You’d have to start again…for the third time now.
Frankly, this was getting ridiculous. You could make cookies, brownies, even cupcakes (with homemade buttercream).
How hard could a pie really be?
Maybe it was the telltale tremble of nerves in your hands.
Maybe it was because you had an ulterior motive for doing this, besides your formerly pure love of baking.
Maybe because this promised dessert was for one pie-loving glutton who was set to come upstairs from the garage any minute. Or at least, whenever Dean’s stomach finally called him back to the kitchen.
Though recently, he hadn’t been all that hungry. He’d denied your friendly offer of a snack earlier (since when did he turn down taquitos?), and he’d barely touched the pizza you guys had for dinner yesterday. (One slice? The man could eat half a pizza in one sitting. To your knowledge, there wasn’t a pie he didn’t like.)
Dean hid it well, but he wasn’t on his game. You knew why, of course, but…
You sighed and measured out the last of your flour for a fresh try. If you messed this one up, you’d literally have to wash your hands of this mission. And yes, it had become mission fucking impossible, as far as you were concerned.
Once the flour was safely mixed with a cup of sugar, you cut up some chilled butter to create the pastry dough. You followed the instructions in the recipe even more carefully this time, from your open laptop on the kitchen counter. The keyboard was dusted with flour at this point, along with your hands and arms. You even felt it under your nails and in your hair, but you didn’t care.
You were going to make this damn pie if it killed you.
You’d even bought real cherries, not the canned filling. It meant more work for you in removing all the pits inside them, but this was worth the extra labor.
However, as it just occurred to you, you’d left them simmering with some sugar, lemon juice, and cornstarch in a pan, around the time of your second attempt at pastry dough.
“No!” you gasped, hastening to open the lid and checking the saucepan.
Oh, thank God, you thought, seeing that the cherry filling wasn’t bubbling over. It actually looked like the proper thickened consistency and smelled delicious. You just needed to do some more stirring.
An hour or so later, you had successfully shaped the dough, chilled and poured in the filling, and covered it with the (embarrassingly uneven) lattice work on top.
“Whatever. The man still believes in the Five-Second Rule. He’ll eat this,” you muttered as you slid the pie in. You even remembered to do an egg wash on top. You admired it for a moment in its raw pastry form, then closed the lid to the oven with a nod of satisfaction.
You wore a wide smile, feeling accomplished, until you turned around and saw the disaster you’d made of the kitchen. Flour was dusted across the counters, a pile of dishes in the sink, cherry remnants in the pan and dripping across the stove, and so much more. You winced at the sight.
“What the hell is this?” came a gruff voice.
Your gaze drew to the doorway with a sharp intake of breath. Dean was standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a bewildered expression on his face.
The man had a thing about people in “his kitchen.” You got ready to placate him with your hands raised as you took a step towards him, but then you gasped.
“Shit!” you yelped, slipping in some egg that had dropped on the floor. Your hand accidentally banged the oven on the way down, but your head also hit the corner of the wall.
You ended up sprawled on your side across the dirty floor, dazed and winded. Dean hurried to your side with one of those frowns that always made you want to smooth the wrinkle between his brows.
He braced your shoulder, almost but not quite touching your hip with his free hand.
“Damn. You okay? This ain’t a slip n’ slide,” he said.
Your lips twitched at a smile, but you sighed. “I’m okay.”
“You hit your head?” he asked, beginning to help you up slowly.
“A little,” you admitted. “Nothing the old bag of frozen carrots in the freezer won’t cure.”
Dean grimaced, but after he made sure you were settled on your feet, he checked the back of your head. You tried not to blush (and revel) at the feeling of his fingers slipping into your hair, even if he was trying to feel for a knot back there.
He was close enough that you could almost feel his body heat through the black shirt he wore, for once without the outer layer of plaid. He smelled like grease and sweat; likely he’d been working on Baby.
Were you weird for kind of liking that smell?
“Well, I don’t feel any goose eggs, so you’re probably fine,” he remarked.
“Thanks, House. Is that your final prognosis?” you asked, beginning to smirk.
Dean’s gaze met yours in amusement.
“Tell you what,” he said, “If you get a headache, I give you full permission to take one of the fun little pills I’ve got in my dresser.”
You laughed. “If it’s not Vicodin, I don’t want it.”
House M.D. was one of those shows you and Dean liked to watch together, along with Game of Thrones, and even Smallville, on occasion.
Dean smiled slightly. But even that was a small feat, and something you hadn’t seen from him in weeks. Not a real smile, anyway. Before today, nothing you’d tried had been working to brighten his mood.
Not pizza Fridays. Not letting him listen to the same damn Zeppelin album without complaint for that eight-hour ride on the last hunt. Not trying to gouge his level of broodiness and offering to hang out, to be a listening ear if he needed it.
He still hadn’t taken you up on the last one. While that hurt, you also understood it. You understood how Dean dealt with things he didn’t want to think about, let alone talk about, even to his own brother.
Dean now looked down on you knowingly, gesturing at the rest of the kitchen.
“You gonna tell me what you’re doing in here?” he asked.
You crossed your arms and raised your chin, a smile playing on your lips.
“What, can’t handle somebody else in your kitchen? What’re you, Gordon Ramsey?” you teased.
Dean’s brows kicked up, his lips twitching.
“You’ve made a mess of my kitchen any number of times, but I ain’t ever smelled sweet, sweet cherry coming out of that oven,” he said. “You’re finally making me pie?”
You had to laugh. Inside, you were pleased that he now looked excited, his green eyes dancing. You clapped your hands over his arms.
“Yes, I’m making you your damn pie. Only took me fifteen tries, but it’s happening,” you said. You turned to check on it, but the second you opened the oven, black smoke billowed out.
Your eyes widened in horror and your mouth fell open on reflex, but harsh coughs tore from your throat as you waved your hand against the smoke. Dean quickly handed you the oven mitts, and you shoved them on before taking out the steaming dessert.
The entire top crust was scorched black. Cherry filling oozed out, and not in a good way. You slammed the oven shut with your hip, and you had to toss the pan onto the counter for how hot it was.
Inside that pan was a dreadful excuse for a pie.
Dean had an arm crossed under his elbow, while a hand came up to cover his mouth as he took in the state of it. He then looked over at you.
He saw the shock, settling into pursed lips and tight shoulders. You turned in slow movements.
You saw that the oven had been switched to “Broil” on the highest setting. You’d probably messed that up when you fell and hit the dial with your hand. But Christ, was that a powerful oven.
Those old white guys really didn't mess around when they built this damn bunker, you thought sourly.
Dean took another look at the steaming pie and grimaced, despite his amusement.
“Well, she won’t be entering any beauty pageants, that’s for sure,” he teased.
His playful smirk fell, however, the moment you turned around. He saw the way you were biting your lip, and the tears brimming in your eyes.
He softened, and he went to you.
“Aww, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he chuckled, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “‘S probably better than I could do.”
You rested your head against his chest and sniffled. You blinked to try to stem off your tears.
“It’s not about the damn pie! I mean, not really. It’s just…” you trailed.
You quieted, realizing you were about to say things you’d rather not.
Dean noticed though. Because of course he did.
“Then what’s it about?” he asked.
You avoided his gaze at first, though he was too perceptive not to notice. He jostled you a little against his side.
“Huh? You wanna answer me?” he asked. His lips curved at the way you were fighting a smile yourself. Your tears won out though.
You turned under his arm and leaned up on your toes, so you could hug him. Your arms twined around his neck and you held him tight.
To say it surprised Dean would be an understatement, his eyes widening a fraction. He still held you back, almost on reflex.
“I couldn’t do anything else,” you said, through tears. “Not for you, or Sam…or for Mary.”
Dean’s confusion descended into grim understanding. A weight fell deep in his gut, clenching painfully the way it always did, when he thought about his mom.
The fact that Jack didn’t have his soul didn’t make a difference, no matter what Sam said. Not in Dean’s mind, anyway.
Jack had killed their mom.
She was gone, had been taken from them. And that second loss had torn a new chasm in Dean’s heart, deeper than the last one. He held you a bit tighter without realizing it.
“I’m sorry,” you said, rubbing his back. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted to…to do something for you.”
Slowly, Dean pulled away a little. His hands moved to your waist as he looked down on you with a heaviness in his eyes. For a moment, he just took in the contours of your face, your eyes shining with tears that clung to your lashes. You were looking up at him like all you wanted to do was fix it. And fix him.
Well, you had to know that was a lost fucking cause. But it just didn’t stop you from staying here with him and Sam, living with them, hunting with them, being one of the last friends they had, after all these years.
It didn’t stop Dean from loving you for it, either.
He let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but raise a hand to get some of the flour off your cheek. He smoothed the back of his hand against your skin, along your jaw, and finally brushed his thumb across your lower lip, where you had worried it with your teeth.
“You’re too damn much, you know that?” he murmured.
You were blushing hot at his touch, but you frowned at his words. Until you noticed the fond glint in his eyes…and for the first time, something more. Something he was finally allowing you to see.
When he bent down and claimed your lips, your thoughts stuttered to a halt. You gripped the front of his shirt instinctively. He framed your face with his hands; they were calloused and smelled like motor oil, but you didn’t give a shit. Not one iota. Because it meant something, and your heart swelled with a warmer, brighter feeling.
You gripped his shirt tighter and leaned up to meet his second kiss. His hand moved to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You grabbed onto his shoulders and let him invade your mouth with his warm tongue slipping against yours. You moaned, the sound echoing between you both and shooting right to his dick.
His brows furrowing, Dean’s fingers slipped into your hair again, but this time, to tangle in the strands. He walked you back until your ass hit the counter, where he grabbed hold of your thighs and hefted you on top of it, regardless of whatever stains covered its surface.
He moved in between your jean-clad thighs and encouraged you wordlessly to wrap them around his hips. You didn’t need much encouragement.
“Dean,” you whispered, between heated kisses, hands wandering down your body, exploring soft curves and warmth over clothing.
“Hmm?” he said, into your mouth. It was distracting, but you found the strength to slow things down, gently taking his face into your hands.
You both caught your breath for a moment. It allowed Dean to see the thread of uncertainty in your gaze, even though you caressed his stubble-covered cheeks.
“I just…do you…is this…” you tried, but your brain seemed to be on a short fuse. You blamed his sinful lips entirely.
Said lips drew into a smirk. Dean’s hands moved up your thighs and held your waist less gripping, more comforting (and claiming).
“I really do, and damn straight it is,” he said, slightly teasing. He did lean back in to press a gentler kiss to your lips.
“Trust me,” he said, as he became more serious. “If you want more from this…”
At that, your uncertainty melted into warmth. You released his face, holding onto his shoulders instead.
“Yeah, Dean,” you nodded. “More than anything, yes.”
He read your sincerity, and it warmed him too. Again, he gave into the urge to brush his thumb against your blushing cheek.
“I uh…I had a feeling it was always gonna be you,” he said.
You raised a brow at that, even though your smile threatened to unravel him further.
“Oh, yeah? How long?” you asked.
Dean pretended to think.
“Since that first batch of oatmeal cream pies,” he said, with a cheeky grin. “Pretty sure I was marked from there on out.”
And not just because he’d been imagining what you’d be like to taste, ever since.
You giggled, though you gestured with your eyes at the charred pan next to you on the counter.
“Guess I should try again on that pie. Wonder what that’ll get me,” you hedged, letting your thumb graze his neck. Dean smirked.
“All right, sure. Remind me to pick up a new fire extinguisher,” he said.
You guffawed and hit his shoulder, but he just laughed and pulled you in for another kiss.
It was sweet enough on its own.
AN: I know, I know. I'm a sap. 😂 Let me know what you thought of this pie-filled episode! 🥧 💕
Ko-Fi Me ☕
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Dean W. Tag List:
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms
@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373
@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma
@iprobablyshipit91 @melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sanscas @sleepyqueerenergy
@wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons
@anticxrrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk
@midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19 @agalliasi @venicesem
@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @deansbbyx
@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester
@chernayawidow @mimaria420 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse
#Down to the Crust#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female reader#supernatural#spn#dean x reader#dean x you#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester fanfiction#jensen ackles#jensen ackles characters#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#dean winchester angst#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfic#mary winchester#spn season 14#zepskies writes
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If Only You Knew Pt 2
Pt 1 Pt 3
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo x Reader
Summery: Y/n has the biggest crush on Matthew Sturniolo but Matt doesn’t know she exists until Y/n’s video goes viral and everyone tags him in it
Warnings: cussing
Y/n’s pov:
The next morning I woke up to a pillow hitting my face. I groan pushing it away from my face. “Nia what the fuck” I said turning away from the pillow still not opening my eyes. “Get up, it’s 12 pm” Nia said shaking me. “I’m awake! You don’t gotta shake me damn” I said pushing her away. “Why are you so hard to work with in the morning” she said plopping down on my bed with a sigh. “Why are you even waking me up right now.” I said rubbing my face before opening my eyes and looking at her.
“Because I just got off of work and I’m bored” she said pouting. I side eyed her “girl put your bottom lip away” I said while laughing. “You’re a brat when you wake up” she said laughing. “And you’re a baby when you’re bored” i said with a laugh. She just shook her head laughing. “What do you wanna do today?” Nia said getting up. “I kinda don’t wanna do anything” I said while I stretched before getting out of bed. “We gotta do something” she said looking at me. “How about we film for our YouTube channel” i said shrugging.
We have a shared YouTube account. We post every Saturday and seeing that today is Friday we really need to film. “I’m down, you got any ideas?” Nia asked looking in my closet. I walk over to her, also looking. “What if we do smash, marry, kill” I said pulling out a pair of black leggings. “Okay.. but with who” Nia asked while showing me a cropped grey shirt. I shook my head saying no to the shirt. “We could do other influencers” i said with a smirk. “I like that, also wear that grey crop with the pink shit on it”
“Good thinking, let’s stir some shit up” I said pumping my fist in the air. Nia went to her room to do whatever while I showered and did my makeup. After getting ready I made my way to the living room. I sat on the couch taking a quick picture of me, with the caption “give me three influencers 😋”. I posted it on instagram, while waiting for people to respond I opened tik tok looking at the comments on my recent post. My heart dropped to my toes. He saw it. And he commented. I kept staring at the “Crazy how you barely spoke last night but can post this 😂”.
I replied with “ 🤨 you didn’t see this ✋🏼”. As soon as I pressed reply, Nia walked out of her room. “Nia. Matt saw the video. And he commented!” I said with a red face. “Girl why do you look like you’re gonna cry, you tagged him” Nia said laughing while sitting next to me. “Because I didn’t actually think he’d see it let alone comment” I said with wide eyes. “Maybe he’s in love with you or something, what did he even say” she said laughing. I just sighed “he said “Crazy how you barely spoke last night but can post this 😂” like the audacity that man has” I said shaking my head.
“You can’t even lie, he has a point.” Nia said with a short laugh. “Ugh, I wasn’t even that quiet” I said throwing my head back. “You didn’t barely speak three words to Matt” she said shaking her head pulling her phone out. “Well I was nervous, bro was looking scrumptious” I said letting a giggle out. “You’re so weird. Let’s get the camera out already” Nia said laughing. “Oh shit, I forgot” I said jumping up and running to my room to get my camera. I come back down stairs to see Nia already had the tripod up and was sitting on the couch. I put the camera on the tripod turning the camera on.
I sat down next to Nia, she got off her phone and looked up at the camera. “What’s up hoes and bros, how we doing on this lovely Saturday afternoon” I said letting out a laugh at our intro. “Today we’re playing a game-” Nia started before I interrupted her singing ‘in the end’. Nia covers my mouth with her hand, I pushed it away. “Gross, your hand smells.” I said crossing my arms like a little kid. Nia just laughs and continues. “Today we’re playing a game, you’ve might’ve heard of it.” Nia said smiling while looking at the camera. “Spit it out dummy” I said poking her in the side making her jump away from my finger. “Don’t fucking poke me bitch.” Nia said getting back in place.
“We’re playing fuck, marry, kill” Nia said clapping. “No!” I said yelling, “we’re playing smash, marry, pass” I said rolling my eyes. “Fuck is just crazy and kill is too violent so we changed it up” Nia said with a shrug. I pulled out my phone looking at what all the people said. “Oouu someone said Vinnie Hacker, Colby Brock, and Jake Webber!” I said looking at Nia. “That’s a weird collection of people” Nia said laughing. “But that’s hard” she said sighing. “Wait! No. Someone else said Colby Brock, Johnnie Gilbert, and Jake Webber.” Nia side eyed me and looked at me confused. “Then which one are we doing”.
“The second one, and I wanna go first” I said pushing her and looking up to the camera. “Smash Jake Webber, marry Colby Brock and pass on Johnnie, only because that was the only option.” I said shrugging. “Argue with the wall” I said pointing at Nia. “I was gonna agree but honestly swap Johnnie and Colby.” She said with a shrug. “What? How you gonna do that to my boy Colby” I yelled. Nia laughed and shushed me. “Give me your phone, I wanna pick one.” Nia said reaching for my phone, I gave it to her so she could look.
While she was looking for one. I got up and started singing ‘swim’ by chase Atlantic. Nia kicked me and said “shut up your gonna get us copyrighted”. “I sing nothing like them how would I possibly do that” I said sitting down with a sigh. “I got one!” Nia said, “okay then say it” I said poking her again. “Imma snap your finger in half” she said looking at me. “I’m sorry I’m just so pumped.” I said laughing. “Anyways..” she said looking at the camera then side eyeing me. “Someone said.. I can’t say this without laughing bro” Nia said laughing. “Nia! Just say it!” I said yelling. “Stop yelling.” She said with a straight face.
“Okay so someone said.. Jaden Hossler, Josh Richard’s, and chase Hudson” Nia said finishing off with a laugh. “Girl whoever said that we’re getting married just for the fact you reminded me of that shit” I said with a laugh while punching Nia in the arm. “Ouch, dumb bitch. Ain’t nobody teach you to keep your hands to yourself?” she said rubbing her arm. “Marry Josh, smash Jaden and pass on Chase, chase just gives me the icks” I said shrugging. “Yea no, I’m smashing josh, marrying Chase and passing Jaden, Jaden’s a cheater” she said looking at me.
“Yea that’s why I said smash, no one said we had to be dating” I said with a laugh. “Good point, he’s hot” she said passing me my phone back. I was scrolling for like 30 seconds before gasping. “I knew one of you sneaky little hoes were gonna pick them” I said squinting my eyes at the camera. “Who?” Nia asked looking at me with confusion. “The Sturniolo Triplets” i said with a tight lipped smile. “Oh my god, yay, I love this one.” Nia said clapping and i just laughed shaking my head.
“Marry Chris, Y/n argue with the wall, smash Matt and pass on Nick, only cause you don’t like girls!” She said raising her voice towards the end with a finger raised in the air. I laughed and said “I’m gonna have to disagree completely. I’m gonna marry Nick so we can thrift shop all the time” I stopped and looked at the camera. “Nick please go thrifting with me” and then I continued after Nia and I laughed. “Smash Matt cause look at his fine ass bruh. And pass on Chris cause he just burps way to much” I said with a laugh.
“I thought you wanted to give your left lung to be with Matt” Nia said with a laugh. I literally jumped on top of her yelling shut up over and over again. She just pushed me off and we fell over laughing. “Matt if you see this.. I sincerely apologize for bestfriends lack of words to you the other night, you make her extremely nervous.” Nia said smiling at the camera. “Girl- you’re gonna get the comments rolling with that” I said shaking my head. “Oh yea, when this comes out, look at my instagram and it’ll explain what I just said.” Nia said pointing at the camera.
“Okay enough about the strumbolognas” I said waving my hand in front of the camera. “Here you pick” i said passing the phone to Nia. As she’s scrolling I look at the camera. “You guys are so pretty!” I yelled smiling. “Girl quit yelling, we’re gonna get a noise complaint” Nia said pushing me. “I’m sorry, look at them! You can’t blame me.” I shrugged pointing at the camera. “Okay I got one”. Nia said being quiet. “Okay? Then say it” I said throwing my head back. “Charli Damelio, Dixie Damelio, and Addison Rae.” Nia said with a grin.
I screamed before saying, “okay hear me out.. I like my women older” I continued shrugging. “So I’d say marry Dixie, smash Addison and pass on charli cause she’s the youngest” I said pointing at Nia. “Do you agree?” I asked. “Honestly I do” she said with a laugh. “Also you need to calm down, you been talking way too much.” Nia said shaking her head while looking for another one. “It’s a YouTube video Nia, one of us gotta entertain them. And since you’re being quiet, I gotta do it.” I said crossing my arms. “Girl I’m only quiet cause you talk so damn much” Nia said once again shaking her head.
I looked at the camera then back to Nia before slowly turning back to the camera. “Do y’all hear this? I’m getting bullied” I said pouting. “Okay Matt” Nia said with a raised eyebrow. “Aye dont come for my babydoll” I said poking her. “Watch the fingers Y/n” Nia said firmly. “Aw I’m so scared” I said putting my hands up in surrender. “I got one!” Nia said throwing my phone on the couch. “Okay guys. This one’s kinda crazy.. Johnny Orlando, Carson Lueders, and Asher angel.” She said with a shrug. “Marry Johnny, smash Carson, pass on Asher” I said shrugging “no ifs and buts about it, just how it goes” I finished.
Surprisingly Nia agreed. I was looking for another one when Nia gasped beside me. I turned to look at her to figure out why the fuck she was gasping. “What?” I said annoyed that she didn’t just tell me. “Lose the tude girl” she said shaking her head. “Everyone’s tagging us in a TikTok that Matt just posted.” She said said with a hum. “Okay? They always do that.” I said looking back at my phone. “It’s lowkey about you..” she said hushed. What? “What the hell are you talking about” i said putting my phone down and turning off the camera so I don’t have to even more editing tonight.
“He used the song babydoll by Dominic Fike” Nia said with a giggle. Does she really think he made a post about me? It’s just a song. I just laughed and turned on the camera. “Anyways” I said before continuing on with the video, ignoring the thoughts in my head. The video went on for about 20 more minutes before we did the outro. Nia went to her room to get her keys and shoes while I put my shoes on because we decided to go thrifting. When we got in the car Nia was getting songs queued, she looked at me with a smirk on her face as the first song started playing.
Babydoll by Dominic Fike was blaring through the speakers. I groaned loudly rolling my eyes before turning the music down. “Nia, it’s just a song. It has no connections too me.” I said turning to her as she was pulling out of the parking lot. “In your caption you literally called him babydoll and the day after he made a TikTok with the song babydoll. You can’t tell me there’s not a single connection.” She said shaking her head. “Maybe it was in his drafts. And the video didn’t have anything on it or a caption.” I said with another eye roll. “The fans clocked it, why can’t you” she said with a frustrated sigh.
“Because it’s a song! There is nothing behind that.” I said yelling out. I’ve never been so frustrated with Nia, why can’t she just understand that it’s probably just a song. There’s a slight possibility that it could be about me but I highly doubt that. “I think you’re just being stupid” Nia said with a sigh. “I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore” I said letting out a groan. “I think you should duet it and see if he says anything” Nia said with a shrug. “Absolutely not.” I said shaking my head. “Then I will, and I’ll show you in the video and caption it “bros ignoring the fact that this video is about her” and then the fans will get Matt to see it” Nia said with a head nod.
I just roll my eyes, not responding to drop the conversation about Matt. We made it to the store and while we were walking around looking at clothes babydoll started playing on the speaker. I groan looking at Nia who was smirking. Why can’t I escape this song now. Is this my life now? Am I gonna hear babydoll everywhere I go. Nia laughs and says “it’s a sign” before walking over to a little further down the rack. I was looking at the shirts when the bell above the door rang telling everyone that someone just walked through.
I heard a small gasp from beside me. “They’re following us I swear.” Nia whispered to me. Who the hell was she talking about. I looked up and looked around before meeting eyes with Matt Sturniolo, I looked down immediately finding the pattern on the shirt the most interesting thing in the world. “Don’t do anything stupid, let’s just leave” I said in a whisper and I don’t hear anything from Nia until I hear her speak louder “are you stalking us or something” she was talking to the triplets with what I could only assume was a smirk. I internally groan walking away from her, as I hear them laugh.
This can’t be happening. I mean secretly I’m not mad about it. But the fact that they keep popping up everywhere without them even being there is scary. Me and Nia have lived in La for almost a year and only bumped into them once before yesterday. It was a few months ago, we saw them at the movie theater but we didn’t say anything to them because we didn’t wanna interrupt anything. But ever since I posted that stupid TikTok they have been literally everywhere and it was only yesterday when I posted it.
“Y/n, why are you all the way over there, come say hey to us” I heard Chris say behind me. I roll my eyes and turn around with a smile and walk over to them. “Hey guys” I said quietly while standing beside Nia, Matt smirked at my quietness. “Oh this reminds me” Nia started saying with a laugh. Oh no. “Matt why do I keep getting tagged in your recent tik tok” Nia said with a smirk. I just play with my hands trying to avoid the embarrassment I’m about to get. “Oh yeah, I swear I’ve never seen that many comments with the same two people being tagged” Chris said with a laugh while Matt shakes his head. “I think it was the song choice, Matt knew exactly what he was doing” Nick said with a laugh.
“So it was about the video Y/n posted?” Nia asked smirking. “100% I knew the fans would go crazy, I’m surprised they actually caught onto it tho” Matt said with a laugh. It was? I wanted to shrink so tiny that I could just walk out with no one noticing. “See I told you” Nia said looking at me and hitting my shoulder. I just shrugged and looked at Nick who was smirking. “So why are y’all stalking us” Chris said squinting his eyes at us. “Hey! There’s no stalking going on. Nia just wanted to go thrifting and this is our favorite spot.” I said with a shrug. I catch a glimpse of Matt smirking. Is that all he does? He always got a damn smirk on his face.
“I can’t blame you there, this is mine too” Nick said with a laugh. “This is actually where we found the dress Y/n was wearing last night” Nia said pointing at me. Nick smiles and said “I still can’t believe you thrifted that” I smiled at him. “It was only 10 dollars!” I said with a big smile. “Damn” Matt said with a smile. I looked at him for a mere 10 seconds before looking literally anywhere else. They kept talking but I wasn’t focused on that, I was looking at the clothes beside us. “What do you think Y/n?” Nick said catching my attention. I turned around with a quick “huh” noticing it was just Nick and Nia standing there now.
“We were talking about exchanging numbers to collab sometime” Nick said with a laugh. “The fans would eat that shit up honestly, I’m down” I said with a smile. “There she is” Nia said with a giggle. “It’s gonna be hard filming with Y/n in the same room with Matt, for some reason she’s so quiet around him” Nia said laughing. “Does my brother make you nervous Y/n?” Nick asked with a smile. Yes. He does. “No! I’m just quiet around new people” I said smiling. Nick and Nia look at each other sharing glances before laughing. “What! Why are you guys laughing!” I said with a laugh. “You talked to me and Chris perfectly fine. You didn’t say anything to Matt tho” Nick said coming down from his laugh.
I groaned. “It’s okay, you’re a Matt girl, that’s how they usually act” Matt said walking over to us. I groaned louder. “Matt shut up” I said while putting my face in my hands. “Ah she speaks!” Matt said smiling. Nia grabbed my hands pulling them off my face yet again. “Okay let’s wrap this up I wanna go eat” Chris said rubbing is stomach. “Oh my god! Do you guys wanna come with?” Nick said with a huge smile. “I mean shit, we don’t got nothing going on” Nia said with a smile. I just shrugged and said “let’s go” what the fuck has my life come to.
This is very long.. I apologize 🙃
Also if you’d like to be taken off this taglist lmk, or lmk if you only want to be tagged in one series and tell me which one 🫡
Taglist: @lacysturniolo @mattsaq @junnniiieee07 @sturniolosreads @creamoncreamoncream2 @robins-scoop @blahbel668 @carolsturns1 @sturniolopepsi @luverboychris @hearts4chris @freshloveforthefit @stuniolobbg @novasturniolo03 @alexb5598 @sturnioloa @nicksmainbitch @icedchailatee @bunbunbl0gs @b2cute @iloveneilperry @tubl-mc @mxqdii @mattsaq @jennss23
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#christopher owen sturniolo#sturniolo#nate doe#nathan doe#matthew bernard sturniolo#mattsturniolo#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo edit#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo#thrifting#thrift shop#LA#fuck marry kill#youtube#vinnie hacker#colby brock#jake webber
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notice me!
pairing: jihoon x reader
synopsis: Your boyfriend has a hectic life, but he usually has at least a little time to spare for his girlfriend. Now it has been two months since he last spent some alone time with you and you're losing your mind just a little over it... luckily, angry make-up sex can solve any problem!
word count: 2.1k
genre/cw: smut, angry sex, also make-up sex, established relationship, feeling neglected in relationship and bad ways of handling said feeling, unprotected sex, manhandling, light choking, fem reader, musician/producer! woozi.
rating: 18+
a/n: I had a moment a couple weeks ago where I wrote this whole thing in one hour in the middle of the night, and then I forgot about it and now I'm in shock just a little bit... anyhow, yay angry sex with wooziiii
network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main
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You watched your boyfriend of two years looking at his phone, scrolling mindlessly across whatever app he found more interesting than his girlfriend sitting on the other end of the couch. You were barely wearing anything, a large t-shirt barely covering the sexy lingerie you had put on for tonight.
“Jihoon, it’s been two months.”
You wanted him to notice you. He had barely been home at your shared apartment for weeks. You knew his work was demanding, and that he gave it his all no matter what. But you have been feeling neglected lately. He had been coming home late, crashing on the couch instead of sleeping in your bed. Only giving you a chaste kiss before running off to work the next morning with a groggy “Sorry I missed dinner last night,” as a greeting.
He hadn’t touched you in two months. You had counted the days, and after three weeks you were wondering if he wasn’t stressing too much about the latest album. After six weeks you had been feeling too horny for your own good, and your toys weren’t fulfilling your needs anymore. You wanted to feel him again. It didn’t matter how many times you came. It didn’t hit the spot. After two entire months of him being abstinent, you had begun getting snarky at the smallest things he did wrong.
Jihoon looked up from his phone at your statement. He carelessly scratched his chin, making your pussy clench at the memory of those perfect hands being all over your body once upon a time. “Two months? Of what?”
“Of you acting like a damn nun,” you said, dead serious.
“A nun?!” He gasped out.
“Yes! A nun!” You shouted back at him.
He looked you over, sitting at the other end of the couch, dolled up more than usual and staring at him as if he had offended yuo great grandmother by existing. Then it seemed to click in his mind. “Oh,” was all he said.
Two months? Had it been that long? He knew very well that he had been resisting his urges, but he had managed for two entire months? He had been so busy with the new album, he had been staying late at the studio every day and waking up rushing back to the studio to put the new ideas he got during the night into reality. Two months without sex, and a pissed off girlfriend because of it.
“I’m sorry?”
You looked at him like he was an equation, mouth open just a bit as you stared at him in shock. “You’re sorry? What the fuck does that mean?” He was so clueless, you thought as you watched the dumb face he was making. (You still wanted that stupid handsome face of his to eat you out until you cried, but that was besides the point.)
Jihoon knew he had fucked up, you were pissed off and picking a fight, and he hadn’t made it better by not even knowing that he hadn’t slept with you in two whole months.
“Do you even care? Because you don’t seem to care one bit about it since you didn’t even know! Do you not like me anymore? Are you not attracted to me anymore? Are you in love with someone else? Why the fuck would you go and cheat on me?!”
He stared at you in complete surprise. Cheating? “Hold up- hold up! What are you talking about?!” He said, flabbergasted at the way you seemed to have drawn the most far-fetched conclusions to this problem you could’ve possibly thought of. “I’ve been busy with the comeback! Please, baby, why are you acting crazy?”
He shouldn’t have said that, he knew it the second the word left his perfectly plump lips.
“Crazy? Did you just call me crazy? You haven’t seen crazy, you fucking asshole!” You shouted as you stormed out of the room. You were packing your bags, if he didn’t want to be with you anymore you wouldn’t be the one to stop him from moving on and sleeping with whoever else he wanted. Because it sure as hell wouldn’t be you after he had just called you crazy for noticing that he wasn’t interested in you anymore.
“What are you doing?? Why are you messing up the apartment? Are you leaving?” he shouted, seemingly surprised that you didn’t feel like staying in an apartment that he was hellbent on making a girlfriend-free zone.
“Yeah, I’m fucking leaving,” you grunt, shoving some shirts into your bag. You wouldn’t be able to grab it all but at least you could make it with the stuff you were throwing into it for a while. Y9ou could always borrow your friends’ stuff until you could get back all your clothes. “You’re pissing me off and I don’t wanna hate you.”
Jihoon was by the bedroom door now, hands pushing his hair out of his face as he watched you angrily packing your bags. How had he fucked up so badly that his girlfriend wanted to leave him like this?
“Hate me? Baby, I really don’t know what I did to mess up this bad…”
Of course, he didn’t understand, because apparently, your boyfriend was a freaking master at staying “pure”. He hadn’t even spent a single thought on you and what he could do with you. He only cared about his music. And you wouldn’t be the one to stand in his way if thats how he truly felt.
“You don’t know?! Look at me Jihoon!” You threw the t-shirt off your body in an angry fit, making your boyfriend’s eyes widen. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, to care even a bit about me- about us- for months!! And tonight, I just can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my mind because you won’t fuck me, how stupid is that?” You nearly sobbed as you made it clear that you were frustrated in more than one way. You were so mad at him, and still, you couldn’t help but admire the way he looked so hot even now, his long black hair falling in pretty curls around his face and his lips shiny and pink. He looked so kissable it was like he was teasing you just by existing.
“You got me all addicted to your cock and then you fucking left me to go through some kind of twisted withdrawal.”
He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat, you didn’t even care to look at him anymore, you were angrily throwing your shit into the bag on the bed yet again, bent over and flaunting the tiny piece of fabric that tried it’s best to cover your ass. “You don’t even care,” you rumbled as you stuffed more things into the bag. He took in the way the lace set hugged your curves deliciously, he had been so busy with everything he hadn’t even noticed his own cravings. He had ignored it all for so long.
“Shut up.”
His voice was deep, and commanding. Your breath caught in your throat, surprise and need mixing in an arousing blend that went straight to your head. “Excuse me?” Your movements paused completely. When you heard his footsteps approaching you hastily you looked at him, his gaze was darkened, and your core clenched around nothing as he pulled the bag from your grasp. Throwing it on the ground before he pushed your barely clothed body into the bed.
“You think I don’t fucking care anymore just because you haven’t gotten dick in a couple weeks? Are you that desperate to be stretched like a little whore?” He growled in your ear, his bulge evident in the way he pressed against your ass. “I care, and I see you. So shut up.”
You gasped at his harsh movements, neediness soaking your panties in record time. God, you were pathetic.
“I haven’t eaten, I haven’t slept, and I sure as hell haven’t let myself even think about this sweet pussy of yours. I’ve been denying myself it all. But you’re right…” his hand pressed against your throat where you laid face down on the bed, “I’ve been neglecting you. You wanna know why? It’s because I knew that if I so much as looked at you, or held you in my arms while you slept so innocently, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything but fuck your tight little pussy all day and night.” His growling voice set off all kinds of sparks in your core. You needed him, now.
You pushed your ass up against him, eating a groan from your boyfriend. “Such a little slut,” he mumbled, letting go of your throat and pulling himself back from you completely. You were dizzy from the hold around your throat, his perfect hands remembering just the way you liked to feel them around you. You were about to whine when his touch left your body when you heard the familiar shuffling of his clothes falling off his body. You wanted to see it, take his form in properly after all these weeks. But he was faster, pushing you back down against the bed before you got up.
His erection pressed against your heat, making you moan as he prodded against the soaked fabric covering your entrance.
“Jihoon, please,” you mewled, wiggling underneath his firm body.
“Wanna shut up and let me fuck you then since you’re so fucking needy?”
“Please, yes! Anything! Please fuck me!” You almost cried as you pleaded with him.
“Sobbing over cock, you really are such a dirty girl for me.” He groaned as he let his pretty hands smooth over one of your asscheeks, smacking down hard and leaving a burning sting after him. Even that felt good. You needed him more than you had ever needed anything in your life.
You felt him pull the sticky fabric from your core, pushing it aside in favor of pushing the head of his hard cock against your messy pussy. “I’m about to drown in you later tonight, just you wait.” He whispered before pushing past your entrance, slipping inside, your walls lubing his cock up as he entered. He ignored the way you were so tight it almost hurt to push all the way inside, your moaned pleas for him to go deeper, and the way you were gripping the sheets while he pushed all of himself inside of your dripping heat enough of a reason to push through. It had been so long since he had felt your walls gripping around him that he could’ve spilled his seed into you right then and there.
He pulled himself together soon enough, thrusting into you at a brutal pace. Your ass which you had pushed up to meet his hips at first had been completely overpowered by the sheer force he was fucking you into the mattress with. You were coming for the first time within minutes. Screaming and sobbing as you finally came around him. He continued, repeating to you what a good toy you were, and how good of a girl you had been for holding out for him this long.
When you were moaning again, closing in on a second orgasm he told you to come again. Lifting your ass up to balance you on your knees and chest, one of his arms wrapping around your hip to reach your clit, pressing down on it while he let his cock slip in and out effortlessly. Your arousal dripped down your thighs. You came undone and sobbed as he continued to overstimulate your abused cunt.
He continued fucking you until he couldn’t take it anymore, his own orgasm crashing into him with such force it knocked the breath from his lungs.
“That was one hell of an apology,” you said, breathless and still leaking cum, exhausted after having all your pent-up frustrations released all at once like this.
Jihoon chuckled, a sound you had missed these past weeks as well. He really had been unusually absent in your life. It wasn’t just about the sex, you had missed him a lot. “I’m sorry for not being around as much,” he said, dragging a gentle hand over your back. You hadn’t had the energy to move a once from the position he had dropped your hips from once he had pulled out.
“I just missed you, I’m sorry for lashing out.”
“Don’t worry about it, just… next time you should just ask me to fuck you instead of threatening to leave me.”
You were embarrassed now, you had acted like a complete maniac, but my god - if that’s how he fucked a maniac, you wanted to stay crazy for the rest of eternity.
Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕
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#woozi smut#seventeen smut#kwritersworldnet#jihoon smut#woozi svt smut#seventeen#svt smut#svt#woozi#jihoon x reader#x reader#fem reader#x reader smut
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PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!
#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao
Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out
tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9
“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?”
The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.
“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle.
Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold.
Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–
(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!
Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!
(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?
(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?
Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him.
“...No proof.”
“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you.
One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige.
The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational.
But the last one–
“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair.
Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you.
“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard.
“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?”
“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought.
Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.”
You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.”
“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless.
“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.
“Done.”
Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly.
And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly.
“I��so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?”
“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.”
The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?”
“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.”
Sukuna froze.
“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?”
You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you.
“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest.
“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.”
“You better not be pregnant.”
“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.”
Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.”
“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.”
Man. Man.
“A statement.”
“In other words–”
“I'm not the fucking father.”
“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up.
“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.”
“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”
“I'll take the runt.”
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x male reader#sukuna x m!reader#sukuna x you#jjk x you#male reader insert#male reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen reader insert#jujutsu kaisen x male reader#jujutsu kaisen x you
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good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader
read it on Ao3.
Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader
Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling.
Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short)
Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly.
here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!
At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.
Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.
Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.
But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.
Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.
You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—
Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?
You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?
The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.
Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.
You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.
She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.
For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.
You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.
Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—
Keys rattle just outside the front door.
First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.
Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.
You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”
“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.
If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.
“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.
You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”
Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.
Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.
He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?
Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.
“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.
Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.
He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”
Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.
You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.
One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—
“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”
—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.
With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.
Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.
One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.
“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”
You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”
Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”
Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.
“My smart girl,” he hums.
Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.
“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.
His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.
“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.
It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.
This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.
You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.
You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.
With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.
You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”
Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.
Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”
You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”
A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”
#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy/reader#resident evil#resident evil four#re4 remake#leon kennedy drabble#uncouthre
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idea, but idk if you take ideas
reader gets turned on by hoon’s vampire like features, and convinces him to rp as one while they’re fucking
mdni
tags: femreader, vampire kink, mentions of the twilight movies, hoon is jealous obv.
*not proofread will do later
wc: 1,2k
smut tags under the cut
i added my own lil spin on it annonie~ mainly cause i’ve been rewatching twilight rndjsoskdndknsla
smut tags: biting kink, implications of sex, dirty talk, chest groping, etc
he doesn’t know how many times you watched those stupid twilight movies. all he knew is that you fawned over some guy in those films with the most victorian name ever. he wasn’t your type and sunghoon was sure of it, why would he be your type when he; your boyfriend, was right there? nah, he didn’t like that you thought of any other men than him. even if he was fictional.
you had all the books too, along with whatever smutty literature he saw on that well dusted shelf in your house. you lived in those dirty fantasies when he was right there. the way you’d kick your feet and giggle while watching those movies. it really pissed him off, it was all imaginary, pretend. it was stupid for him to be so jealous, but god there was one thing he hated the most about your little hyper fixation…
well, the thing is sunghoon doesn’t want to come off as a pissy bitch. he’ll happily go along with whatever endeavors you put him through. it’s just when you make him watch the same few movies with you again, he felt his ego shrink every passing second spent staring at robert pattinson play a vampire. especially when your comments consisted of comparisons between him and edward whats-his-face’s character.
“look at him hoon, he’s like all sparkly in the sun, n’ he has like this mad gaze.” Your eyes pan over to your boyfriend, watching him stare at the tv blankly, in a boredom induced daze.
he’s tuning out what you’re saying, because well, it makes him feel somewhat inadequate. it’s so rare for him to feel this way. he’s so self assured, maybe even a little egotistical sometimes. how can he not be? you yourself loaded up his little brain with compliments and ideas. saying how he’s the man of your fucking dreams, or the way your body contorted in different ways, becoming helpless when he did so little as touching you. hell yeah, you made him feel so damn special.
with his brows furrowed at the screen, he sees your odd stare from the corner of his eye. why do anything to reassure you of what you were thinking in that moment? he knows you, he can practically read your mind. before diverting your attention back to the screen a scoff leaves your mouth. call him petty or whatever you want, he just wants to get through watching this god forsaken movie for the millionth time without his brain frying.
sunghoon is so ridged. his arms are crossed, and he’s like, all stiff. whatever, you can deal with it. although it’s frustrating that he’s so oblivious.
you find yourself scooting closer, leaning and commenting on the movie. with each sentence you say, you can feel his dreary attitude loom over. it’s given, you’ve forced him to death watch your silly little movies to the point where he himself can recite each word.
“he’s like, —i don’t know. like can you imagine? getting puncture wounds, and hickeys at the same—“
that’s where sunghoon draws the line.
“can you shut up?”
dang. he was livid. you have right to your own thoughts but to think like that? when he’s right there? when he can well rip off your panties and fuck you the way this guy can’t because it’s all speculative? all you had to do was let him, just ask and he’ll deliver. you know it.
but then again, you boyfriend is as dense as concrete and dumb as bricks sometimes. guess you’d have to give him a nudge, a hint too probably.
“i mean, can you imagine what’s it like to be a vampire?”
you’ve practically told him what you wanted, and he still has that red cloudy look of jealousy with somewhat of a frown on his face and his overgrown bangs shading his eyes. if he wasn’t upset, you’d tell him how cute he looks right now. how dumb he is, is also what you’d tell him. then again you weren’t exactly being straightforward.
with your question slipping in one ear and out the other, he just tunes you out. yeah it’s pathetic he feels so strongly about something so meaningless, could he help it though? he was insane about you.
your eyes darken as you grab the remote, and thank goodness you turned it off. sunghoon finds you sliding on of your legs over his thighs as you take a seat. you gaze into his eyes, he looks annoyed. he’s suppressing the urge to just fuck the stupid crush you had on that twilight vampire out of you. it makes you laugh at how blind he is. nevermind, you probably had to spell it out for him.
“you can do that. you can bite me here, and here-“
you drag your two fingers indicating where he could, and his breath hitches. it’s like all his senses are tingly, and piercing. his ears are ringing, with the rush of adrenaline and the newfound excitement he had. just hearing you describe what you wanted him to do.
you saw his jaw hang slack, as you merely told him what you wanted. tracing your fingers down your abdomen and to your thighs, you tap on the fleshy inner part.
“you can bite here too.”
his hands grab your hips, he gets it now. he slides a hand up your shirt holding your chest. your mind drives him crazy. his touch sends shivers down your spine.
“here too?” he asks asks, so politely.
it makes you heat up, and become more wet than your imagination allowed. when you thought of him like the cold blooded undead he resembled so much, it made you infatuated with the idea of it. the idea of him. how could he not see it? when you drew comparisons that surely pointed towards his own features that you loved so much.
his pretty skin glows in the dim light of your living room unlike of that portrayed in the movie. he’s real, and right here.
“didn’t you ever think, perhaps..” you say it so sweetly as you feel his hand roam around your body.
before you can finish your sentence, your breath is cut short. your back is now against the cushions of the couch, and his arms trap you beneath him. sunghoon wonders how he got so lucky, to have someone like you to show him all the ways he can make you wet. your so sick and twisted, not for your little fantasy you wanted him to indulge in, but the fact you didn’t just tell him straight up. he ought to punish you.
he’ll let it slide though. partially because he feels his cock twitch restrained by his pants, and because he’s so willing to do what you ask of him. he knows this is the just the beginning, and honestly he’ll have fun woh it. so with his lips ghosting your neck, and his hot breath up against your ear he asks you a question.
“tell me what else you want me to do as your vampire. sweetheart”
copyright @vamph00n 2024
#enhypen#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen smut#boost#enha#sunghoon#sunghoon hard thoughts#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon vampire#roleplay#vampire k!nk#biting k!nk#redacted
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shhhh..
~ shigaraki x f!reader
summary: you had been exceptionally dry towards your boyfriend this past week, and he couldn’t get the reason out of you over text, no matter how hard he tried. So he figured he’d pay you a little visit! :)
additional tags: reader has strict parents, eventual smut, forced to be quiet, established relationship, teasing, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, using panties as a gag, slight aftercare, no quirk au
a/n: this is my first time writing publicly on this account, so please feel free to leave tips or suggestions for me <3
word count: ~2.7k
ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-
Family dinner was something that was obligatory in your household; it had been since the dawn of time. Unless you weren’t home, you had no excuse to not be sat at your dining room table with your parents. That leaves you where you are now, picking at your plate as you sit in uncomfortable silence with your mom and dad. You knew the reason why they were refraining from breaking the silence, in turn understanding that they were going to avoid the subject all together.
“So, when can I talk to my boyfriend again?” Your tone was slightly annoyed, as you placed your fork down on your plate and looked up across the table. You met your mother’s eyes, which looked to her husband, and back to you. She let out a sigh as she also set down her fork, bringing her napkin to the corner of her mouth.
“You know the answer. He’s bad for you, and we will not allow you two to see each other any longer,” she stated simply. She was right, you knew the answer, but you couldn’t stand being forced to be so distant with him. It killed you to not maintain the same personality with him online, let alone not seeing him for the past week and a half. You looked to your dad, but he avoided your gaze, not being one for confrontation. “What your mother said, sweetheart.”
You scoffed, throwing your hands up and letting them fall to your sides. “That’s not fair, it’s my life,” you said, hating that they thought they could control you like this. “No, it’s our life, and it will be for as long as you live under this roof. If you want to be independent, you can move out!” Your mother raised her voice, displaying her usual short temper. “You don’t get it, you don’t even care enough to meet him,” you retorted, propping your elbows up on the table and swinging your hands around as you spoke, as if it helped prove your point.
“Honey, please, just try to see it from our perspective,” your dad started, turning to face you. “You sneak around with him, he’s been in the custody of the police more than once, he doesn’t do good in school, the list goes on. He doesn’t seem to have a good influence on you. We’re doing this because we love you.” You looked at your dad in disbelief. Of course they used that excuse, it’s their favorite one to abuse.
“You will stop seeing each other, and that’s final.” Your mom stated with no room for arguing otherwise. Feeling your blood rush to your face, you made the executive decision to stand up from the table, and reside in your room, not wanting to say anything that would provoke further punishment from the both of them. “If you loved me, you would let me live my life however I damn well pleased. Fucking god.” The words left your lips as a soft curse as you stormed down the hall and toward your bedroom door. Opening it revealed a surprise that you definitely weren’t expecting.
There laid your boyfriend, Tomura, lazily on your bed, fiddling with some little trinket that was supposed to be on your desk. The sound of your door opening snapped him out of whatever he was doing, and he smiled, really it was more of a smirk, and got up off the bed to greet you.
“Hey sweet thing.” He cooed out. Your eyes were wide and your feet were frozen, not expecting him to literally be in your room.
You shut the door swiftly, and held your hands out in front of you, motioning for him to stop and explain himself. “How? Why??” You could barely get out before realizing your parents could probably still hear you. Before he even started talking, you put a finger to your lips, signaling him to be quiet. You walked past him, finding something to turn on as noise to drown you two out. You landed on just turning on your fan.
The fan ran for a second before you interrogated him on what he was doing here. “What are you doing? How did you get in?” You were right in front of him, whisper-yelling your inquiries at him. He started walking closer to you, closing the gap between your bodies. You stepped back, until you reached your bed. You sat on it and looked up at him, waiting for his answer.
“Well, your window was unlocked, and I wanted to see why you’ve been ignoring me.” He stated with ease, a slight grin and a shrug of his shoulders accompanying his words. You sigh and furrow your eyebrows, upset at yourself. You didn’t want to break the news like this, but you figured you had no other choice. You were mentally beating yourself up for what you were about to say.
“Tomura.. I think we have to.. uhm- stop seeing.. each other.” The words left your mouth with so much hesitation, dripping in sadness. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, holding your gaze in your lap. Your head felt heavy as you tried to compose yourself, knowing he wouldn’t react well to the news.
You didn’t hear anything for a good while after you spoke, deciding to look to see what he was thinking. Except, you don’t see a different expression from what he was sporting earlier. He still had the shit-eating grin that was plastered on his face when you first saw him. “That’s cute, angel.” He rasped out, grasping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. He crawled to you on the bed, forcing you to lie down as he positioned himself on top of you, trapping you. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
He leaned down to kiss you, holding the side of your face with one of his hands. You matched his movements, bringing your hands up to either side of his head. You were lost in the feeling, missing this for the last week or so. You wanted it to be slow, in case this was actually the last time you saw him. He slowly prodded your lips with his tongue, asking for permission to be let in. You granted it happily, parting your lips as you felt your breathing slowly become heavier.
He leaned down, pressing himself more into you as an effect, and finally broke the kiss. The catching of breath was all that was heard between the two of you. He just smiled with half lidded eyes before dipping down to your jawline, eventually kissing his way down to your neck. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling at his locks and tangling themselves in it. That’s when you realized that your parents were, in fact, still home. Most likely just down the hall from the both of you.
You panicked, trying to push Tomura’s face away from the warmth of your neck so that you wouldn’t get caught. “Wait, no, my parents are still home, I can’t-” You were cut off, your breath hitching, Tomura not budging as he continued his attack on your neck. “T-Tomura, I can’t, not now-“
“Yes, now,” he breathed out, finding a spot on your collarbone to sink his teeth into. He sucked on the spot afterwards, allowing as close to instant relief as he could, before dragging his tongue along it painfully slow. This elicited soft whimpers from your throat, foiling your plan of trying not to let too much noise slip. Sure, the fan helped with blocking it out, but it could only do so much before your parents got suspicious.
You eventually gave in, not being able to resist him with any bone in your body. He kissed down your collarbone, and made his way to your chest. He slid his hands up the shirt that was covering one of his favorite features about you, slowly raising it above your head and discarding it off to the side. He had a twinkle of something in his eyes, and licked his lips, before kissing and sucking all over your chest. His lips lingered on your nipple, sucking at it harshly, before bringing one of his free hands up to the other, making sure it didn’t feel neglected.
“So beautiful, all for me.” He said, making it increasingly harder to stay quiet, and you were very sure he knew that. You looked down at him, the sight one to remember, while soft moans were slipping past your lips. You bit your tongue in hopes of it helping cease the noises. He met your gaze, grinning.
Once he was done marking and biting your chest, he made his way down to your most intimate area. He started fiddling with the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you while he did so. You looked down at him with pleading eyes, practically begging him not to do what he was about to. “No! Are you crazy? Do you want me to get caught?” You whisper to him, squirming. He only laughed softly in response before slowly pulling them down your legs; past your mid thighs, then your knees, then all the way down to your ankles, before wadding them up and shoving them into your mouth.
“I guess you’ll just have to be quiet then, princess,” he teased, honing in on his target, “I bet you can manage.” His tongue stuck out, licking up your slit, then going to focus on your clit. You moaned into your panties, the sensation euphoric. God, you missed this. You couldn’t fathom how you went without him for as long as you had.
He wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, lapping the rest of your pussy generously with his tongue. You tried to stay quiet, you really did, but you couldn’t help how euphoric it felt. You continued moaning, fighting back as much as you could manage. You were squirming in his grip, either trying to break free from his hands or trying to grind against his face; you weren’t sure which you were attempting. All that washed over you was an intense amount of pleasure, urging you to reach a hand up to one of your tits, fondling it and tugging at your nipple.
Your breath became labored, the rise and fall of your chest attracting Tomura’s eyes as he looked up at the beautiful sight: you with your legs spread wide just for him, moaning out what he assumed was a mix of curses and his name as he made you feel heavenly. He took it one step further.
“Look at me,” he pulled away, waiting for you to meet his gaze, “look at me as I fuck you with my fingers.” He said, slowly inserting his fingers into your core, feeling your gummy insides squeeze around his digits. You lulled your head back against your pillow, the combination forcing you closer to your climax.
That was until the sound of knocking at your door interrupted the two of you, the room falling almost completely silent as one of your parents made their presence known. “Honey?” Your dad called out, talking through the door. You sat up as much as you could, not knowing what to do. Your eyes darted between Tomura and your door, frozen.
“I.. I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He was lingering outside of your door. Tomura had a devilish grin on his face, slowly starting his movements up again. You looked down at him, seeing him slowly bring a finger up to his lips with a small “shh” emitting from them, dipping back down into your cunt, and thrusting his fingers in and out of you. You squealed softly into your underwear, trying especially hard not to make any noise now that your dad was outside of your door.
“You know how mom can be sometimes, she just needs some downtime,” he continued, wildly unaware of what was going on just on the other side of the wood barrier between the two of you. You felt yourself slowly climb back up the steep hill of pleasure, your boyfriend's movements only getting more intense as he makes it his mission to get you to cum. You looked down at him, pleading eyes begging him to slow down, or at least make it easier for her to keep quiet. But, to no avail as he kept up his pace with his fingers, matching it with his tongue as he focused on your sweet spots.
“We can go out tomorrow, just the two of us? I bet it’ll make you feel better, sweetheart,” he said. You squirmed, softly moaning, waiting for your dad to leave. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, wiggling your hips as you tried to force yourself into your orgasm. To your dad, you were just giving him the silent treatment, so he took that as his cue to retire back to his room. “Okay, goodnight honey,” your dad said, before leaving again.
Tomura rasped out a small laugh, before urging you on. “Come on, angel, you can do it. You’re doing so good.” He whispered in between your thighs, hitting the spots that make you see stars over and over, finally pushing you over the edge. You looked down at him one more time, before coming undone. You felt him hum in satisfaction as he tasted your orgasm, forcing you to ride it out until you were begging for him to take it easy on you. Your hand found refuge in his scalp, tangling themselves in the nest of light blue locks.
With one last lap of his tongue around your cunt, he pulled away, a smile plastered on his face as he licked his fingers clean. Your face was slightly flushed as you smiled back at him, your chest rhythmically rising and falling. He crawled on top of you, wrapping his arms around your body. You started massaging his scalp with one of your hands, and rubbed his back with the other. You heard him mumble out, “Are you actually going to follow through? With the thing you brought up earlier?” You heard his tone; he sounded defeated.
You cup his face in your hands, turning it to face your own. “Of course not. My parents have been on me about it, and I didn’t know what else to do.” You looked away for a moment, then back at him. “But, that’s not to say that I won’t still ignore you, seeing this is what happens when I do,” you teased, a smirk on your face. Tomura scoffed, shaking his head and laying it back down on your chest.
After a long, silent moment, Tomura propped himself up. “I think I should go. Your parents will kill both of us if they found out I was here,” he said, moving towards the window to open it up again. “Aww, please, stay just a little longer.. Please?” You pleaded, sitting up and following him out of bed covering yourself with a nearby blanket. He turned to face you, hands moving from the window to your face. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back. You can count on that,” he said, half of his face illuminated by the dim light of the moon. He leaned down, your lips interlocking with his one last time, before he turned to escape through the window.
“Wait!” You called out to him, leaning out the window. He turned to meet you, pulling his hood up. “Uhm- text me when you get home. Maybe I can sneak off to see you next time,” you said, a small dust of pink on your cheeks as you spoke. You heard him let out a small laugh as he nodded up to you, running off into the night, leaving you up in your room for the rest of the time being.
#tomura shigaraki x reader#tomura x reader#shigaraki x reader#tomura smut#shigaraki smut#mha shigaraki#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki tomura#first post#i’m nervous#please don’t be mean to me#haha
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steve was expecting a nice vacation.
a nice vacation, with rob and nance, and the kids tagged along too.
but three am rolls around and someone is in his house, singing, and wailing and generally acting a fool. and what a wonder that anyone would do this since they know super girl is way crabby when she's woken up. especially at three am.
so he hauls himself out of bed and trudges to the kitchen where the ruckus has traveled.
"dude."
there's a man stumbling around his kitchen, eating his left over pizza, and drinking his fucking coors light.
if he wasn't so pissed at this guy making himself at home, he'd think he was kinda cute. he had long hair, and chains and leather. and forget 'kinda' this guy is downright delicious, but the bottom line is, he broke into steve's house.
"get the fuck out of my house."
the guy drops the pizza and whirls around, "what?" the guy sounds properly devastated. "get out of my house, dude!" steve yells.
"wh- why? i- im here with the- the band?" the guy is stumbling around, slurring his words and looks like he's seconds from dropping. steve sighs, "alright man. just- cmon. lay down on the couch, i'll get you a blanket." steve leads him to the couch, turning him on his side, making sure he doesn't choke on his vomit.
he scrubs a hand over his face, just his luck that some drunk guy wanders his way into the house, has no idea where he is, eats his pizza, and he's gonna let the guy pass out on his couch. whatever.
he'll deal with it in the morning.
---
when eddie wakes, he's got a major headache, and he thanks his lucky stars that one of the guys put a trash can in front of his because he would NOT have made it to the bathroom.
once he's right side up, he takes in his surroundings.
shit.
this is not the labels beach house they put them up in.
"good to see you in the land of the living."
his head turns to meet the voice, and shit. he's gone and broke into hercules' house.
"uh- what?" he says, ever so eloquently.
the guy sits down next to him. "you broke into my house last night. well- not exactly, someone left the door unlocked but. you walked in and ate my pizza. and i didn't feel comfortable sending you back out because you had no idea where you were. you slept on my couch."
eddie nodded dumbly, "s-sorry. i- im here with my band, right down the road. uh- i'm. i think im still drunk and you're very pretty."
the guy laughed, and damn, if eddie wasn't already in love, he was now.
"im steve, i can walk you back to your place when you're ready. there's some sandwiches on the counter over there if you're hungry." the guy- steve, says, before standing.
"sandwiches for breakfast?"
"it's 2pm, dude."
o h.
"do you wanna... i mean. you wanna have like, lunch or something?"
"are you hitting on me?"
"if i say yes, do i still get a sandwich?"
steve laughs again, "yeah," eddie raises his eyebrows at this. "yes to the sandwich or yes to the date?" he asks, smiling cheekily.
"hmm. what kind of food are we gonna have?" steve inquires, leaning closer to eddie. eddie smiles again, "what's your favorite?" steve pretends to think, making a whole show of it.
he's just about to respond when.
"steve! are you really flirting with the criminal?"
"robin!" steve groans, waving his hands at said person. eddie turns, "you think im a criminal?"
"well, technically...." robin trails.
"rob get outta here. i was about to land a date." steve whines, shooing her out. she saunters out with a grin on her face, "he like italian food" she singsongs before walking out the door.
"so. the pizza place? tomorrow at 1?" eddie asks, eyes flicking down to steve's lips, "sounds good," he breathes. it's only a matter of time before their lips meet in a feverish kiss, eddie's hands tangled in steve's hair.
they pull away, "we should- we should get you back so your friends don't freak out." steve says, breathing deeply. eddie nods, chest heaving, "cant say i'm not disappointed, though." steve sighs, raising a hand to cup eddie's face. "there's always tomorrow."
---
when eddie finally gets back to the right house, gareth is all over him. "where the hell have you been, man?!"
"oh, okay. so. i broke into someone's house accidentally, and then scored a date. now i'm here." he shrugs, before plopping down on the couch.
gareth sighs, "only you, ed."
#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#meet ugly#steddie meet cute#steddie#steddie get together#best friend robin#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#stranger things#stranger things ficlet#steve x eddie
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SUPER SHY 2.0
Pairing: Miles 42! X Shy Black Plus Size Fem Reader
Tags: @idkmistake @aaliyahwalkshere @mama-2001
Summary: Y/N has finally been noticed by Miles, you already had Miles heart now you have it even more now that you two are bonding getting to know each other.
A/N: I'm glad you guys loved the other one so much!! So here's pt.2 a day later I hope you guys love this one as well!! ENJOYYYYY as the author I was giggling and kicking my feet rooting for y’all. Btw if you didn’t read Pt.1 go read it before this one!! pt3
“I'm Y/N thank you so much”. You say taking your books trying to hide your smile.
“No problem Y/N also I like your shoes” Miles stated with a smile, you looked down at your shoes then looked at his smiling even wider looking back up at him.
“Thank you we’re matching” Y/N replied. Miles looked at his shoes smirking looking at Y/N
“Coincidence” He said swiftly walking away with his friends. You were hooping and hollering in your head trying not to scream.
“GIRLLLLLLLLL” Aaliyah shouted.
“Damn that was a very intense moment” Ocean states with her eyes widened looking at You.
“That's your man cannot convince me ANY less” Aaliyah exclaimed, throwing her hands up.
“Seriously did you see the way he LOOKED at you when y’all were talking AND the mamita that's all yours Y/N”. Ocean added to Aaliyah’s statement
“PLS don’t add on to my delusions, let's get to class” You stated before, y'all were late to class. You and your friends contained yourselves going to your math class. You couldn’t concentrate on anything but Miles was running through your mind it was hard to pull yourself together. Your friends noticed laughing quietly. You looked at them with a smile, you went on your phone to distract yourself seeing the following icon pop up on instagram, you clicked it seeing ‘therealmilesgmorales’ has followed you. Your eyes light up showing your friends your phone.
“Ohhhh mmmmm ggggggg” Aaliyah whispered.
“You better get on that luv cause that's officially your man he followed you” Ocean stated smirking at You.
“Real delulu screaming out my man” You sang causing you and your friends to giggle, in your peripheral vision your teacher eyed yall.You guys immediately started doing your work praying the bell rings soon. You went back to daydreaming with the biggest smile on your face, you heard the bell ring grabbing your things exiting the class room with your friends. The rest of the school day went by smoothly, you saw Miles in the hallway shooting him smiles and he smiled right back at you. The end of the day approached and you were about to leave with your friends.
“Hey Mamita” Miles said approaching you, you were smiling from ear to ear.
“Hi Miles” You said shyly.
“Is it okay if I walk you home?”. Miles asked, You looked at your friends and then back at Miles they nodded their heads at you.
“Yes of course” You replied.
“BYEEE Y/N WE LOVE YOU” Aaliyah shouted
“BE SAFE BOOKIE” Ocean Shouted as well as you were leaving with Miles.The walk was dead silent for 5 minutes because you were too shy to say anything, Miles picked up on this smiling at you.
“What you listening to?” Miles asks
“I'm listening to Best I ever had by Drake” You reply
“That's my shiiit play it I wanna listen”. He says you take your airpod out blasting the song. Miles starts singing, you look at him chuckling joining him cause fuck it.
“Baby, you my everything, you all I ever wanted We could do it real big, bigger than you ever done it You be up on everything, other hoes ain't ever on it I want this forever, I swear, I can spend whatever on it” The both of you sing laughing having a good time walking home. You were smiling the whole walk, Miles started dancing while walking making you laugh.
“AYEEEE” you shouted hyping him up, you appreciated how he made you feel comfortable by doing simple things. Quite frankly Miles did not give a damn about how he might have looked crazy; it made you feel comfortable enough to sing at the top of your lungs with him.
“Who else you listen to ma?” Miles asks with a smile, seeing you smile
“I listen to Brent Faiyez, Tyler the Creator, Steve lacy, Shreea Kaul, the list goes on”. You reply smiling from ear to ear.
“I like Brent Faiyez, Tyler the Creator,Steve Lacy, I have to listen to Shreea Kaul. We gotta get together, do nothing and listen to music you a Vibe” Miles stated, looking at you with the cutest smile on your face.
“Tienes una hermosa sonrisa” Miles said, making you want to fall to your knees, the way it rippled off his tongue, the way his voice sounded it tingled you just right. (You have a beautiful smile)
“Thank you Miles” You said shyly, Miles chuckled.
“You gettin shy on me Mamita?”. He says confidently being a tease, the way everything rolled off his tongue did something to you.
“Noo of course not”. You say looking away from Miles.
“Awe it’s okay, I have a question for you”. Miles expressed
“What's your question?” You ask while still looking away from him, he brought his hand to your chin turning your head to look at him, you were flustered trying not to blush.
“Can I take you out Tomorrow?” He asks, caressing your cheek with his thumb, you fall into his touch looking at him.
“Yes you can take me out” You say receiving a smile from Miles, he wanted to kiss you right then and there but it was too soon way too soon. He stopped touching your face realizing you’ve made home.
“Don’t worry about where we are going, I'm going to figure it out,it's going to be a surprise just show up looking pretty I'm going to show you how pretty girls are treated”. Miles stated looking you in the eyes.
Stay tuned for pt 3!!!
#astv hobie#astv fic#astv fluff#astv angst#astv gwen#astv pavitr#astv miles#astv fanfic#astv#miles x reader#miles 42#earth 42 miles morales x reader#1610 miles x reader#earth 42 miles x you#1610 miles morales#earth 42 miles x reader#42 miles morales#miles morales 1610#hobie x reader#hobie x you#hobie spiderverse#pavitr x reader#atsv pavitr#into the spider verse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderverse x reader#black reader#Spotify#miles x black reader#miles 42 x reader
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with me + part three
authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?
thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!
also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!
warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content
song inspo: with me by destiny’s child
word count: 4.2k
taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion
You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls.
Just didn’t seem all that appealing.
And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.
So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more.
And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.
You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.
When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.
That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.
Well, up until now.
Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for.
Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.
It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.
No. I’m coming to you.
That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.
That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?
Oh.
Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?
And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.
A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.
You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.
“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”
Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening.
Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”
She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?
Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”
At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”
“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”
Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”
You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”
________
“He’s what?”
You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.
You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest.
It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.
“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?
“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”
“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”
“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.”
You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”
“You think he’ll be upset?”
“Of course, he will.”
“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.
You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?
The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from.
And always will.
“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face.
“But what will you tell her then?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.
Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.
She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.
You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.
Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening.
As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit.
“Will you call me before I go to bed?”
“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”
That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”
“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”
“I love you too, mama.”
Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22.
You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink.
It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.
Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill.
But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts.
And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.
It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable.
Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed.
And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.
Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.
He’s here.
There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob.
I love you too, mama.
Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.
Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.
You’d found that out firsthand.
Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.
Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.
He always did smell so damn good.
The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you.
You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested.
It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating.
Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?
Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.
But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.
You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it.
Pictures of Callie.
He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something.
“I—”
“Is she mine?”
Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?
It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means.
“What–what are you talking about?”
He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”
You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations.
Except this one.
You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?
That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible.
You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.
Rip the Band-Aid off.
“Yes.”
It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.
“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.
He just needed you to confirm as such.
That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”
You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”
“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”
“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”
“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”
He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"
The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”
“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”
This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”
“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.”
You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.
He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”
Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go.
Bad.
It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”
“You should get a lawyer.”
Your heart stops. “What?”
He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”
“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”
He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”
You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”
His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”
This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?”
His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”
He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”
You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger.
“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child. “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”
He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”
________
just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.
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Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader
Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.
Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, smut.
AN: there is a scene in this based on a ✨️video✨️ i had sent to me by a beautiful anon and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. If you want the link you can find it on my page or message me and I'll try to send it!
📢 TAG LIST IS NOW FULL 📢
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 5
Chapter 4
The following Tuesday, after practice and your homework, you'd driven over to The Hideout to see the famous Corroded Coffin play to their crowd of regular drunks. You parked your car in the lot, getting out and straightening out your cropped Iron Maiden shirt. You'd paired it with some shorts and fishnets, as well as your Docs and your jacket which, courtesy of Eddie, now had a WASP pin resting proudly on the lapel.
You made your way into the, quite honestly, dump of a bar, impressed that you didn't even need a fake ID to get in. You grinned when you saw Corroded Coffin setting up on the small stage and made a beeline for your friends and your....Eddie.
"What's up, rockstars?" You smile, giving Eddie a cheeky pinch to the butt as he was bent over with his back to you sorting out his peddle. He angled his head to look at you, and nearly keeled over at the sight of your outfit. He recovered, standing up to hug you.
"Now this just isn't fair, sweetheart, gonna be playing our set with a fucking boner," he groans into you ear, making you giggle. He subtly kissed your head.
"Holy shit you actually came!" Gareth said, grinning at you from behind his drum kit. "Eddie said you might not make it because of practice."
"Like I'd miss the infamous Corroded Coffin live in concert," you gesture to the homemade banner behind them. "I'm excited!"
"You're probably the only one in the audience who is," Jeff laughs, glancing over the few people who had come to the bar to watch them play.
"Well, just remember who your biggest fan was in the early days, yeah?"
"Of course, sweetheart," Eddie winks at you and you have to wrestle down the urge to kiss him, not knowing how he felt about your...whatever this was between you being made super public yet. You instead settle on shooting him a wink and going to get yourself a drink whilst they finished setting up, patiently waiting for their set to start.
You were surprised when the bartender handed you a beer, apparently Eddie had sorted you with a drink before you'd gotten there, and again that meant nobody was checking your ID. You said nothing, taking your beer and sitting at a table close to the stage where you had a good view and Eddie could definitely see you.
The band start their set and you're completely blown away. Not only are they actually pretty damn good, the way Eddie carries himself on stage is incredible. He's confident, charismatic, nothing new there, but he eludes this sexy rockstar attitude that makes your pussy clench as you watch him. He plays with an energy that should be for 80,000 people not just 0.01% of that.
You watch his skilled fingers running up and down the frets, effortlessly playing chords without even glancing down. And when he sang, god your heart skipped a beat. His voice was the perfect mix of soft melodic singing and raw yells and shouts. They played a mix of covers and their own songs, their musical influences clear in those original pieces. Your favourite so far had been their rendition of Paranoid by Black Sabbath, and a song called Shallow Grave of their own. You had screamed and shouted and applauded, probably too enthusiastically really, but you didn't care. They were good, and Eddie was hot.
As the notes of another original song, Strangers in the Dark, came to an end, Eddie spoke into the microphone.
"We're going to change things up a little bit now folks, with a new cover dedicated to a very special person who happens to be our number one fan. This one's for you, airhead." He shot you a smirk and you grinned back at him, your cheeks flushing. "Sing along if you know it, maybe even dance a little if you're drunk enough."
The opening notes of Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks, but with a Corroded Coffin touch, began to play and your jaw dropped. You fucking loved this song, and your mind and heart race when you remember you had told Eddie that, probably about 3 weeks ago when you'd first started speaking properly, only mentioned it briefly when he'd seen the tape of Bella Donna sticking out of your bag.
He'd...learnt this, for you? Made his band learn this for you without even knowing if you'd ever come to one of his shows?
It's a good thing you were sat down because your knees felt stupidly weak.
"Just like the white wing dove, sings a song sounds like she's singing, ooh, ooh, ooh," Eddie croons; his voice could have brought tears to your eyes. He wasn't playing guitar for this, cupping the mic in his hands in a way that should have been illegal.
You sit in your seat, singing along, watching as a few drunks get up to dance, mostly middle aged women who look as if Stevie Nicks is their lord and saviour.
"Come on honey, your boyfriend is singing this for you! You gotta dance!" One of the Stevie-ites grabs your hand and tries to pull you up to dance.
"Oh, I cant-" you start, feeling a little embarassed. Ridiculous really, seeing as you were in front of two entire high schools nearly every week dancing and cartwheeling and splitting. Why the fuck was dancing in front of Eddie making you shy?!
You catch Eddie's eye as you're dragged onto the small dance area in front of the stage, the woman lets go of your hand to do her own Stevie style twirl, and you laugh, doing the same when she encourages you to do so. You glance up at Eddie and he grins back at you, still singing away as he pulls you up onto the small stage, twirling you around. You stay next to him, wrapped in his arms as the band finishes the song. When the last note plays, Eddie grabs you and you kisses you hard on the lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, the small crowd whooping and cat calling as you break apart, both of you panting and grinning like fools.
"You're amazing," Eddie says breathlessly, looking into your eyes.
"Me?! I'm not the one who just turned Stevie Nicks into a bad ass metal anthem! You gotta record that, you...you're incredible!" You pant, your face starting to hurt with how much you're smiling. You run one finger down his chest whilst looking up at him through your lashes. "How much longer is the set, rock star?"
Eddie swallows hard.
"Uh, th-three songs."
"Perfect, I'll be waiting by your van when you've packed up." You shoot him a sexy smirk, pecking his lips once more and hopping off the stage to watch the rest of the set.
*
True to your words you were waiting, leant up against the side of Eddie's van as he finished loading up his equipment.
"So, I've been thinking, that bed you've got in there?" You gesture to the back of the van. "Super fucking comfortable, perfect for laying down after a successful show, don't you think?"
"While every fibre of my being is going to hate me for saying this, Y/N-"
"Who said anything about sex?" You cut him off and he looks at you, confusion etched on his face. "Just wanna show you how appreciative I am that you learned a song for me, very cute by the way."
"Well, I have been known to be pretty cute," Eddie grins, letting you pull him into the back of the van, kicking the door shut. He grunts, letting out a breathless laugh as you push him onto his back and straddle him, pushing his shirt up his stomach. "Hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"
"What about if I want to?" You smile, rocking your hips experimentally against him. Eddie groans, fingers biting into your hips. You lean down and kiss him, tongue immediately finding his. Eddie's hands travel from your hips to your ass, squeezing it softly at first, then harder as your kisses grows deeper and more desperate. You pull away from the kiss, sitting back on your heels and your hands hover over his belt buckle. "Can I?"
"Yeah, yes, shit, you can do anything you want to me right now, sweetheart." Eddie groans as you undo his belt, your hand ghosting over the bulge in his jeans. Once his jeans are also undone, he helps you by lifting his hips so you can pull his jeans and boxers down to his mid thigh. You can't help the gasp that leaves your mouth as his cock springs free, slapping his lower stomach.
"Holy...what the fuck, Eddie?!" You laugh, unable to process what you're seeing. He's big. And not just big, but thick too. Uncut, with a delicious thick vein running along the underside of his cock. His balls are - is it weird to say perfect?- big and round and your mouth salivates at the sight. Would you even be able to wrap your hand around him? Swallow him down? Would your cunt stretch enough to accommodate him? Your brain buzzed with arousal.
"Not really something I go around showing off," Eddie chuckles, hissing as you attempt to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him. You pull back his foreskin to expose the head of his cock, the same beautiful shade of reddy purple as his lips, and you watch in fascination as a small bead of precum blurts out and over your fingers. "Shit, Y/N, your hand feels so fucking good."
"I haven't even done anything yet," you giggle, moving a tiny bit faster, your other hand gently cupping his balls. You make sure he's looking at you before you let a glob of spit fall from your mouth onto the head of his cock, using it to lube his shaft for your hand to glide easier along it. Eddie fucking whimpers, whimpers, at that, his head dropping back onto the pillow beneath him.
"Fuck, babe, you're fucking...you're a dream."
"A wet one, I hope?"
"You're...everything. God the amount of times I've thought about this, about you...Jesus, how are you fucking real?" Eddie sighs as you work your hand over his cock faster, the mix of your spit and his precum making it easier. "Can I...fuck, can you take your shirt off? And...and put my jacket on?"
He prayed silently that you'd agree, it was all he'd been able to think about for about 3 weeks. You smile, nodding, taking off your shirt. Eddie almost blows his load there and then. Not only were you braless, but you also had your fucking nipples pierced, the two silver bars winking at him in the dim lights streaming in from the car park. You send him a knowing smirk briefly letting go of his cock to grab his previously discarded jacket and slip your arms into it, the leather cool and somewhat a little sticky against your damp skin.
"How do I look?" Your voice is low and sultry, laced with arousal. The throb between your legs is almost unbearable now, and you grind your crotch against his leg for some relief.
"Like every wet dream I've had since I was 13," Eddie groans as you spit on his cock again. "Shit, never thought you'd be so..."
"So what?" You challenge with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked as you continue to jerk him off.
"Jesus, so fucking...filthy." Eddie gasps as you run your other thumb over the slit of his cock, gathering some precum on the digit and sucking it into your mouth. You exaggerate a moan, this was purely for him right now but he did taste really fucking good. "Shit, gonna cum soon, don't stop baby."
"Not going to Eds, want you to make a mess all over me." You push the jacket off of your tits so he can clearly see them. Your free hand pinches one of your nipples, making you moan and grind down onto him again, a whimper leaving your mouth.
"Jesus fuck!" Eddie grunts, his cock twitching in your hand as he cums, streaking your tits, stomach and a little bit of his own jacket with thick white ropes. You stroke him through it, letting go of his thick cock when he starts to hiss in discomfort. "Fuck, princess, easy, easy," he lets a breathless laugh as you scoop up some of his cum off your tits with your finger, popping it into your mouth and sucking it off. "Jesus H Christ."
"I prefer Y/N." You grin, letting out a squeal as Eddie pins you down onto the floor of the van, kissing you hard. His hand wanders to the button of your shorts. "Hey, don't worry about me, handsome. This was all for you."
"You sure? I want to." Eddie's eyes flick to yours and you smile.
"I know, and believe me I really want you to but I have to get home, school night and all that." You sigh and Eddie groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. "My fingers will just have to do tonight."
Eddie groans even louder.
"Shit, Y/N, that isn't fair."
"Relax, Eds, my parents are away this weekend, so I'll have that big, empty house all to myself. You wanna come over and protect poor little old me?" You put on a fake pout. Eddie smirks.
"And by protect you mean-"
"Fuck my brains out until I can't fucking walk and make me scream so loud the neighbours will know your name? Yeah, that's what I meant." You giggle, pecking his lips softly.
"Oh, I'll be there baby, I'll protect you so hard, don't you worry."
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#iswaw#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie smut#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson fan fiction#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things eddie munson#eddie munson x you#stranger things smut
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Love’s The Death Of Peace Of Mind — Pt. 2
pairing: noah sebastian x reader
warnings: none, just kinda very short
tags: @malice-ov-mercy @measuredingold @crimson-calligraphyx @chels3a-smile @misspygmypie @veronicaphoenix @loverofagoodbeard @catj422
masterlist. tdopom masterlist.
“Hello?”
“I’m fucking panicking.”
The line is silent for a few beats, and it has you worriedly thinking if Jolly just hung up on you. But then there’s a deep sigh that has you feeling momentary relief.
“Why, exactly, are you fucking panicking?” Jolly asks carefully.
“I texted Noah,” you tell him, nervously nibbling at the tip of your thumbnail.
“That’s good! I’m proud of you for finally communicating with him,” Jolly praises you.
“No, it’s not good, Jolly!” you fire back. Stress is eating away at you, anxiety bubbles violently in your stomach. “I have never felt such panic since Fall Out Boy’s hiatus after Folie à Deux!”
“Wow, okay. That’s … That’s a strangely niche reference I haven’t heard you talk about for a long time.” Jolly looses another sigh. “Okay, I’ll bite. What happened?”
“He told me he misses me.”
The line goes silent again. Your leg is bouncing as you sit atop one of the stools under your kitchen counter. Your phone is face-up on the counter on speaker, and you know Jolly hasn’t hung up because the call time is still ticking. But that still doesn’t calm your nerves by any means as you wait for his response.
It’s been two days since you texted Noah, two days since he replied, two days since Bad Omens released their third album THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND. You hadn’t known how to go about Noah’s response so you’d thrown yourself back in to work and whatever chores needed to be done around your apartment. Your resolve had finally cracked when you shamelessly listened to the record for the sixth time (at least you think it was the sixth listen).
As soon as Miracle had ended that last time, you immediately called Jolly. You didn’t know who else to talk to. And thankfully, Jolly knows both parties personally and is the one who had told you to text Noah in the first place, so it was simply logical, actually.
But that hadn’t made it any less aggravating to wait for him to answer the damn phone call.
Finally, Jolly says something, but it has you wishing he had just hung up on you.
“He does miss you.”
God, and isn’t that just fucking wonderful information? The single sentence brings tears to your eyes. You fold your arms on top of the counter then rest your cheek against them.
“Jolly, he—“
“Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.” Jolly’s voice is firm, and it almost feels like a parent scolding their child. You bite your tongue anyways. “You told me you were the one to stop texting in the first place. You said your feelings were all messed up and didn’t know how to talk to him about any of it. Don’t think that your decisions didn’t hurt him, because they did. Noah wanted to talk to you about what happened but you ignored his calls, right?”
You hate how well Jolly knows you. You say nothing.
“There’s so much of you in the album, it’s fucking crazy,” Jolly continues. “Noah misses you so much more than you think he does. He wanted to figure this shit out with you. But he ended up just compiling all of it into those songs because you couldn’t pick up the damn phone.”
Tears are spilling down your cheeks now. Jolly’s words hurt — god, they really fucking hurt. But he’s speaking with so much honesty and sincerity it makes you sick. Because yes, you were the one to ignore Noah’s calls and voicemails when you first started losing touch. You couldn’t deal with what you were feeling, nor could you express how you felt at the time. You don’t think you’d be able to now.
But you need to. All of these feelings and emotions have been festering inside of you for years and years. They were nearly overflowing the first time you and Noah were intimate, then they finally flooded every inch of your body the last time you spoke. You just didn’t care enough to acknowledge them.
However, as your vision is blurry with tears and you’re quietly sniffling, you know what you need to do.
“I miss him, Jolly,” you whisper in a broken voice, scared it won’t carry through the speaker. “I miss him so much.”
“Then talk to him,” Jolly says, gentler this time.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
You squeeze your eyes shut tight, relenting only when you see fuzzy stars and nebulas accumulate beneath your eyelids. More tears slip down your face as you blink repeatedly.
“I’ve lost him once already. I don’t wanna do it again.”
“You haven’t lost Noah, trust me,” Jolly assures you. “To this day, he is still your best friend, whether you realize it or not.”
“What do I do, Jolly?” you ask timidly. You’re scared by his potential response, but you are already mentally writing down what you want to say after this phone call ends.
“Text or call him, and set up a time to meet,” Jolly suggests. “If you don’t, you’re gonna drive yourself insane. I mean, you’ll be our number one Spotify listener for the entire year, but let’s avoid that this time around, okay? I’d like to prevent that from happening for a bad reason.”
You chuckle a bit at Jolly’s antics. But you find yourself nodding, even though Jolly can’t see you. You push up off the countertop with a spark of something settling in your stomach.
“Okay, I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” you tell him. You sniffle then stay quiet for a short minute. “Thank you, Jolly. I’m sorry for dumping all of this onto you.”
“Don’t worry about it, dude,” he responds. It’s evident that he has a smile on his face just from the tone of his voice. “Let me know how it goes.”
“Yeah, for sure. Love you. Bye.”
“Love you.”
Jolly hangs up and you’re left in the quiet of your apartment.
Now, after having talked to your older brother figure — who made you cry, that fucking asshole — you feel a sliver of determination embedding itself into your ribcage. You can feel it burrowing into the bone and marrow, slowly spreading across your entire skeleton. It infects your organs and veins and bloodstream, until it’s all you feel.
You wipe away any tears that had fallen in the past couple minutes. Your skin is hot beneath your fingers and you can your pulse in your palms. But you ignore the heat radiating off of you as you open your phone with shaky hands.
A moment later, Noah’s contact is staring at you. You’re hesitant to open your shared text thread and ask if he wants to meet up and talk. But Jolly’s encouragement echoes from every corner of your skull, each word reverberating into the tissue of your brain until it is the only thing you can remotely think about.
Then you’re typing and sending off your message before you can think twice about it.
You gingerly set your phone back down on the counter. Deja vu ripples through you, a scene in your bedroom playing in your head from just a few days ago.
But you shove that memory away as you stand up from the stool. The leg that had been bouncing hurts a bit from constantly jittering, but you ignore the ache as you begin your way to your room. You purposefully leave your phone behind.
After gathering clean clothes and a clean towel for your shower, you head back into the kitchen to retrieve your cellphone. And you see there’s a new text notification present on the screen — one from Noah.
Your heart nearly stops at his reply. You aren’t sure what you should be feeling right now. But he definitely did just say he wants to see you.
You’re shaking uncontrollably as you read the text over and over. It’s almost like you’re waiting for Noah to say this was a joke, that he never wants to see you again for as long as he lives. But it never comes as you continue staring at it.
Noah wants to see you.
Noah wants to talk to you.
Noah wants to—
Meet tomorrow night?!
You must have read that last part wrong. You read through the text several more times to make sure you didn’t misread anything or mistook what he meant. Because Noah asked if tomorrow night at your place works. At 7:00pm.
You almost decline, saying that you picked up another shift from work at that time. And you’re about to begin typing out that gentle rejection when Jolly suddenly texts you.
Jolly🎸☀️: Noah just ran in to the living room telling me you texted him. Fucking smiley bastard. Just know that I’m very proud of you for doing this!
Well, shit. Now you have to accept the meet time.
So you do, standing in the middle of your cramped hallway with anxiety on the verge of spilling out of your mouth. You swallow harshly, choking back the bitter taste as you’re typing out your answer to Noah.
But you can’t help feeling hopeful. It almost overpowers the anxious tugging in your belly. And you let it remain confined inside of you as you take your shower, letting each and every possible scenario for tomorrow night play in your head.
thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
a/n: let me know if you want to be tagged when i post pt 3!!
#noah sebastian#noah sebastian fic#noah sebastian fanfiction#noah sebastian x reader#bad omens#bad omens fanfiction#bad omens fic#joakim jolly karlsson#jolly karlsson#the death of peace of mind#alex! ❪ 𖤐 ❫#alex’s writing! ❪ 𖤐 ❫#fic: love’s the death of peace of mind
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