#Maybe something nerve wrecking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

msgexymunson · 2 months

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Highest Bidder

Description: When you get Eddie to agree to be on auction for the Valentine’s Ball, you don't count on jealousy affecting you this much. To be fair, you didn’t think Chrissy Cunningham would be there. But maybe, just maybe, he likes you just as much as you like him?

Warnings: Angst, fluff and smut, my favourite horsemen. NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll shoot you with arrows and not the cupid kind. Slight older, 25 ish Eddie Munson x 23 ish fem reader, confessions, BFFs to lovers, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (dress before you impress irl)

A/N: So this was meant for Valentines but I decided to catch Covid instead. Inspired by the auction scene in Groundhog Day. I loved writing this, hopefully you get the desperate pining feeling that I was trying to give off. I love all of you, not only on Valentines but every day.

Comments and reblogs keep this little paper heart from bursting Into flames. Please, comment and reblog, it makes me so happy you don't even know.

7k words

Masterlist

“So sweetheart,” Eddie begins, a sly smile creeping over his face as he steeples his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees, “are you gonna tell me why you did it?” He's sitting across from you in his armchair, like this is some sort of bizarre job interview.

The surroundings are familiar. Eddie's second hand couch, the worn fabric soft under your thighs. The coffee table you helped drag up four flights of stairs, adorned with a coaster placed entirely for your benefit, of course. It's not like Eddie cares about water rings. The comforting smell of the fabric softener Eddie uses intermingled with cigarettes, and incense to cover the smoky aroma. That, and Eddie's aftershave; faint after a night in proximity of it, but there all the same.

The situation is not familiar. The wayward glances, the lingering touches, the tension filling the air so thick it's like trying to move through cake batter. Wading through some dense, sweet, all consuming feeling that sticks to your ribs and pulls you into its gravity.

Torn between looking at him and shyly stirring your drink with its straw, you think about it. Why did you? The answer wasn't simple. It never was, with Eddie.

It all started with the Valentines Charity Ball your mom roped you into helping to organise. She was a force to be reckoned with, your mom. The human equivalent of a wrecking ball. When she got involved with any good cause, no one and nothing could stop her. Including you.

So, when she ran to you in desperation last night, you didn't hesitate. One of the guys for the date auction had taken ill and she was stuck for a fourth. So, the first name you could think of spilled out of your mouth. It took some convincing. No, he's not just some freak. Yes, he's doing well for himself. Yes, he's got a steady job, an apartment. No, he doesn't deal anymore. Yes, he's good looking, obviously. No, we aren't a thing, we were never a thing.

You were never a thing. It was much more complex than that. Affairs of the heart always were. When you'd met Eddie at school you were quiet. A loser, living on the fringes of obscurity; not popular, but not strange enough to be bullied. Eddie was safe. A shield. You'd entered Hellfire without a second thought. And sure, he was handsome, ridiculously so. But at the time, he was seeing some twig called Stacey or Samantha or something, and you bit down on your attraction. Hid it deep within the tissue of your heart. Swallowed it whole. Then, you'd dated Thomas, and after that, he had seen Wendy, and then it was circumstantial. At no point had the pair of you been single together until recently, so it clearly wasn't meant to be. Whatever attraction you'd been harbouring was mellowed, dissolved and disintegrated in yourself. After that, he was just Eddie.

Convincing Eddie to do the auction had been an entirely different story. It wasn't nerves. He had stood on tables in the cafeteria to speak his mind, after all. He had conveyed his innermost thoughts to almost any who would listen, like some wayward preacher at a bizarre sermon. It could never be nerves, not with him. It was always the fear of not being enough. The fear of himself. After many words of encouragement, he'd agreed. If only to shut you up, but it worked.

What you hadn't accounted for was the sight of Eddie climbing out of his beat up van in a goddamn button up shirt and fucking dress shoes. In jeans that weren't ripped, with wild hair scooped back into a low bun. You hadn't counted on the easy smile you'd seen a thousand times now winding into your stomach and sending raven wing beats into your heart. In the soft wink that loosed a thousand moths within your core. Moths, they say, live at most, a day, but these seem ancient compared. Alive in an enclosure you had created years ago, set loose suddenly and all at once, their once fixated caretaker ignoring his responsibilities.

“Hey sweetheart, am I late?”

When had his voice gained that huskiness, that depth? When had looking into his chocolate brown eyes melted your insides? A twinge in your back brought on by the stress of the night took you back to the here and now. Gazing back at him whilst you attempted to rub it away, you replied.

“N-no, not at all. You, you look really good, Eddie.”

He scoffed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief, a cascade of loose curls flowing around his face.

“That's a load of crap. You, hey, you look amazing. Seriously, smoking hot.”

Your head span with the compliment, as you looked down at your own outfit. It was a ball after all, and for once your mom had insisted on a dress. It was a deep red, cheap satin, low cut, a tasteful hem at the knee, with a slit up the side providing at least a little mobility, and kitten heels. Currently, you felt like an outsider looking into a different world through plexiglass, but the way Eddie looked at you made you feel like you belonged.

‘It's nothing, just a dress.”

“Hey,” he replied, crowding your space with the confidence he embodies, “you look incredible. Trust me.”

His knuckles dragged across your flushed cheek, and for a moment all sense of who you were and why this was happening was lost to the feel of his skin on yours. But only for a moment. Dipping your eyes down, you took a tiny step back.

“We should head inside Eddie. You ready?”

After a couple of hours of cheesy music and weak as fuck punch, you tapped your fingers on your plastic cup and turned down the latest pensioner who thought you were here for his amusement. Until finally, the host tapped the microphone and asked everyone to gather at the front for the main event. You made your way to the side of the stage in case you were needed, and waited for the bidding to start.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have the highlight of the night. For one night only, Hawkins’s most eligible bachelors will be yours, to an extent. Be prepared to be wined, dined, and entertained, by our finest gentlemen, all in the name of charity, of course. And first up, is our very own George Heights! Give it up for George everyone!”

The crowd clapped as George walked onto the stage, an early balding man with just the hint of a pot belly poking through his chequered blue shirt.

“George is an artist, and an aspiring architect, with a penchant for poetry and an insatiable appetite. Give it up for George, everybody!”

After a lukewarm auction, which ended with George being bought for 65 bucks, the next one was sold. And the next one. Pretty soon, it was Eddie's turn. He stepped forward, and whispers began to float around you. You expected that, to some extent, but there were woops, and even a wolf whistle too. Ever the showman, he bent into a low bow, straightened back up, and winked at the audience.

“And last, but not least, we have a handsome young man up for your bidding pleasure. Put your hands together for Eddie!”

As he did a turn on the spot, hands outstretched, the rouse of applause went on for longer than you thought it would. Enthusiastic hands clapped for your man.

No. Your friend. Just a friend.

“That's it, that's what we're looking for! Eddie is a mechanic, and a talented guitarist, who is looking for your company tonight! So, starting bid, can I hear twenty dollars?”

“Here! Twenty dollars!” An old lady waved her programme enthusiastically in the air. Eddie's eyes rolled and caught yours momentarily, and you flashed a smile at him.

“There we go, twenty! Can we go to twenty five?”

“Thirty!” an equally old lady shouted, earning you yet another look from him that made you laugh.

“Fifty dollars!”

The crowd went silent as a man in the back shot his hand in the air.

“Woah, a high bidder! Anyone want to beat fifty?”

Before the crowd had a chance to recuperate a young and extremely pretty woman's hand shot upward.

“One hundred dollars!”

Everyone fell silent. The only thing not getting the message was your heartbeat. The beautifully manicured and delicate hand belonged to none other than Chrissy fucking Cunningham.

She looked more beautiful than ever. Hawkins’s sweetheart, all grown up. The popular girl, the pretty girl. Prettier than you, at least to your mind. Prom queen, beauty pageant winner, and the icing on the cake? Actually a nice person. No one could hate her, it would be like kicking a kitten.

But as your heart dropped like a lead weight into your chest, you thought you wouldn't mind seeing a bit of fur flying across the room, guided by your heels.

You saw it, you couldn't fail to. The sudden way Eddie stood a little straighter, chest puffed up a little more, as a slow smirk crawled over his face.

“One hundred? Wowee! Thank you young lady! Anyone for one twenty?”

The man at the back called out, “right here!”

Chrissy giggled, small hand held up covering the cute noise, and made another bid.

“One thirty!”

It seemed like the entirety of your body's blood had rushed to your head. You felt dizzy and sick, watching this happen, like some slow motion car crash. Again, your damned back hurt. you rubbed it in vain, and gazed back at the ruin in front of you.

“One fifty!” The man at the back bellowed. Eddie's eyes widened, and he put his hands together, as if in prayer. His gaze was begging, pleading, and directed at Chrissy.

The frozen spell you seemed to have been under lifted suddenly. This was not going to happen, you wouldn't let it. Chrissy had everything she could possibly need, she didn't need more. She couldn't have him.

He's yours.

Through watery eyes, you fiercely trawled through your purse, and came across the little envelope you tucked in there earlier. The money you had scraped together to go towards buying a car. You'd almost forgotten it, intending to drop it home before you came here.

It looked like you'd have to be a pedestrian for a while longer.

At the same time Chrissy placed delicate fingers in the air, your whole arm shot up, purse clutched in hand.

“Two hundred and fifty two dollars and thirty nine cents!”

Gasps and grunts from the crowd echoed throughout the hall as everyone turned to face you. Even Eddie's jaw hit the floor. It took a moment for it to register, but when it did people were cheering.

“Well, I think that wraps it up folks! The highest bid of the night, sold to the very eager young lady in red right over here! What a great donation!”

He continued talking, wrapping up the show, and signalled for the music to start once again. Blood was hammering in your ears, making you almost oblivious to everyone around you. All you could focus on in your tunnel vision was Eddie as he walked to the edge of the stage, climbed off in a smooth hop, and started sauntering toward you.

“You know, if you wanted me that badly you could have just asked, sweetheart.” He said, as he flashed you a smug grin.

“Hey, I was just saving you from that guy over there, pretty sure he wanted more than a date.” Your words came out calmer than you thought you were capable of as you clenched a fist at your side to hide your shakes.

“Oh, really?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest, “That's what you were saving me from, huh?”

He knew it was a lie. You knew it was a lie. You're pretty sure the entire hall knew it was a lie.

“Of course, don't want some old geezer putting his hands all over you. Not a fun Valentines. Plus, I own you now. You've gotta do what I say.”

Your hands dropped to your hips, holding them as you smiled at him.

“Kinky,” he replied, stepping closer, making you falter in your confident stance as you’re forced to look up at him, “so, what are your orders, princess?”

“Can you, get me a drink. A proper drink, from the bar? Please?”

Taking your hand in both of his, he brought it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to it that turned your insides upside down.

“Easy. Your wish is my command. Jack and Coke, right?”

Gormlessly nodding, all you managed to say was a stunted “uh huh.”

He flashed that grin again, and bounced off with more of a spring in his step than usual.

You turned on your heel, begging yourself to get your head together, and busied yourself with gathering the donations for the auction, including your hefty one, and passed the cash to your mom to be locked away. When you approached, she opened her mouth but you wildly waved a finger at her.

“I know, I don't want to hear it. Not right now.”

She smiled, and just said, “pretty sure you could have got that date for free.”

Rolling your eyes and simultaneously rubbing your back, you passed over the cash and turned quickly, nearly slamming into someone.

“Easy princess, I know you bought me but I won't stand for full on tackling.”

He was holding your drink high, arms up to protect it.

“Sorry Eds, just escaping from-”

You looked over your shoulder, but your mom had disappeared.

“-nevermind. Thank you.”

As you grabbed your drink you took a generous gulp in a vain attempt to steady your nerves.

“So, now you have me, what are you gonna do to me?”

As he guided a wolfish grin to you, you simply rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fact that several unsavoury thoughts were swimming through your mind.

“What if I told you to hop on one leg and bark like a dog, huh?” You replied, sending a grin right back.

“Oh you don't think I would? Don't test me princess.”

You simply folded your arms and cocked your head, daring him with a look. Eddie nodded, and started fucking bouncing on one leg.

“Woof! Woo-”

“OK OK stop you weirdo!” Gasping a laugh, you grabbed him by the crook of his elbow and dragged him away from the curious stares of those around you.

As the song changed to a slow ballad, Eddie whipped the drink from your hand despite your protests and placed it on a nearby table.

“What are you doing?”

Grasping your hand he escorted you to the middle of the dance floor and suddenly pulled you so close that the air expelled from your lungs. There was no air, just music, and feeling, and Eddie.

“I'm dancing with you. Isn't this what you do on dates?”

As he held your hips, thumbs rubbing into your sides, your mind cleared. Like a bubble of smoke had popped. This felt good. This felt right. You circled his neck within your arms and relaxed for the first time that evening.

“This isn't a date, Eds.”

Your words held some spite, but it was belied by the smirk tugging at your cheeks.

“You are right. This isn't a date. If it was, well, we wouldn't be surrounded by geriatrics.” he nodded at the crowd around you, eliciting a high pitched giggle from your chest.

As you swayed in step with him, gazing into his chocolate eyes, the smirk only grew, fuelled by the mischief in his eyes.

“So, if this was a date, what would we be doing instead?”

A part of you wants to feel bashful and turn away, but the spell his eyes have you under is in control. No force on earth could tear your gaze asunder. The couples around you could burst into flames and be chalked up to little more than background noise.

“Well, first, I would have picked you up at your house, bought you some flowers too,” he said as he brought his hand to yours, holding it and pushing you into his frame even more, so you strained your neck up to him. His breath fanned delicately against your ear as he continued his explanation.

“Probably took you to a fancy restaurant, with fabric napkins,” he said, making you giggle at his understanding of ‘fancy’, “would have paid too. Maybe had some wine. Shared a dessert.”

“Yeah?” You nearly whisper it, words falling into the exposed skin of his neck.

“Yeah. Then, I would have taken you back to my place, offered you a cup of coffee,” suddenly he spun you, pressing his lithe front to your waiting back, his fingers scooping the hair from your neck sending comet trails of sensation down your spine. He continued, words making your head dizzy, “Then, I would kiss you, properly. Like you deserve to be kissed.”

As he spun you back to face him, you held his gaze for a moment, seeing every ounce of honesty etched into those big brown eyes.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Let's get out of here.”

You shake your head, bringing yourself back to the here and now. Here you sit, opposite Eddie, invaded by his scent, debating whether or not to just tell the truth and hang the consequences.

Taking a gulp of your drink, you set it back down and look Eddie in the eye.

“Listen, I'm gonna be honest. I saw the way you looked at Chrissy and I… I was jealous. I didn't think, I just kinda acted. I'm sorry if it was weird.”

Bravery fleeing your bones leaving behind an airy wobble, you look at your own lap, fingers twisting over and over. You're only slightly aware of the shuffle and rustle of Eddie rising to his feet, of footsteps, of the dip in the couch next to you. Then, Eddie's large hand comes to rest over both of yours.

“Do you know why, sweetheart? Why were you jealous?”

His hand is steady, fingers stilling your movements confidently, but there's a quaver to his voice that seems entirely unlike him. Grasping his fingers, you absentmindedly play with his heavy rings.

“I feel stupid. I've had… kind of a crush on you, since high school.”

Of all the reactions, you hadn't expected a deep laugh to reverberate from his chest. Recoiling in horror, you shift your hands away from his and move to stand, your only thought to run, flee.

“No no no, please, sit,” he asks, hands grasping at your waist to keep you there, as you rub at the twinge in your back again.

“Turn around,” he says, and you don't find it in you to disobey. Firm hands stroke softly down your back, “you've been rubbing your back all night. Right here?”

Fingertips circle the spot that's been aching and you nod, confused.

“Eddie, if this is a rejection, it's a really odd one- oh fuck, right there.”

He chuckles lowly, knuckles working at the knot near your spine.

“It's not, it's really not. You're in pain, and I know you'd never ask. Plus, I, ha, don't have the balls to say this to your face.”

You don't say anything in response, you can't. Of course he's noticed you're in pain, he always notices stuff like that. The fact that this isn't a rejection though? It has your head reeling with so many thoughts that you can't express the words. Eddie clears his throat, hands rubbing into your skin through your dress, easing some of the building anxiety.

“I've got a secret. I've- had a crush, on you, since middle school.”

“Shut up!” You gasp, mouth hanging open at his confession.

“Absolutely not.”

“You didn't even know me in middle school Eds.”

“Yeah I did. Well, sorta. You remember that day I ran into the library? I asked for help?”

You pick at the scab of a memory, itching it to the forefront of your brain.

“Oh yeah, you were running from that idiot... Johnny?”

“Jimmy Salinsky. He was gonna beat on me. You, you didn't hesitate. You didn't even know me, but you told me to hide under your chair, you even threw your coat over your lap to hide me.”

“What else would I do?”

He snorted derisively, continuing his impromptu massage, “ignore me, tell me to fuck off, just like anybody else. But you, no, you didn't. Jimmy ran in looking for me and you didn't even lie! He asked if a freak had run in and you-”

“-I said ‘the only freak in here is you’, I remember.”

“That's right!” He laughs, squeezing your hips appreciatively, “Then he asked if you'd seen the poor kid, Eddie. You said, ‘I've never even met an Eddie’, which was true too. Not like I introduced myself before I dived under your chair. I remember crouching there, trying not to laugh, watching your little legs swinging. You had odd socks on, and you smelled really good. Anyway, I crushed on you hard.”

Head buzzing over his words, you try to organise your thoughts.

“Did the guys- did Hellfire know?”

“Sweetheart, I'm surprised you didn't know, it was common knowledge. I just thought you never liked me like that.”

Turning to face him again, you stroke hesitant fingers over his knee.

“Didn't say anything, you were seeing Stacey.” Eddie's face screws in confusion until clarity rings like a bell in his mind.

“Her? I wasn’t- that wasn't a relationship. I would have stopped in a fucking heartbeat if I'd known.”

“Oh. I dated Tom to get over you.”

“I dated Wendy to get over you!”

Sharing a laugh, you both hold eye contact, giggles dying at the realisation of what this means.

“So, Eddie, about that kiss…” you inch forward, ever so slightly nearer to him. A pink tongue darts out of his mouth, wetting his bottom lip.

“Yeah, that. That was me, running my mouth,” he says, anxiety wracking his voice as he strokes his neck compulsively, “Not that I don't want to kiss you, I do, just, erm, don't expect fireworks?”

It's almost like he's back at middle school, the nerves radiating off of him. Smiling sweetly, you take his hand and place it on your jaw, leaning into its touch. The breath he exudes is shaky as he moves closer, eyes darting to your lips as yours flutter shut.

It's tentative; a brush of his mouth as if he's scared of you running, of some practical joke. When you make no move to pull away his thumb strokes your cheek, lips now moving more confidently against yours. Your heartbeat is echoing inside your head as your hand slips to slither down his chest and around him, circling his side.

Only then does his tongue slowly snake out to wet your bottom lip; a silent plea which you happily grant. Still, it's delicate, tongues moving leisurely against one another as if you have all the time in the world. It's by no means dispassionate; far from it, it may be the most emotionally charged kiss of your life, but it feels like he's holding back.

So, you pull him closer by the front of his shirt, flicking your leg over his knee as your fingers tug hard. It's then that his tongue licks into you in earnest, thick and smooth, filling your insides with need. Just when you feel utterly consumed, whining inside his mouth, he breaks away. After a few pecks to your lips, he presses his forehead to yours, breath uneven, cooling your swollen lips.

“I'm in love with you.”

It comes out of his mouth in a rush. All you can do is stare gormlessly.

“Huh?”

“I love you. I just needed you to know that. This isn't just a- a thing. I'm in love with you, I have been since forever. I know it's a lot to take in, and I don't expect you to say it back I just need you to-”

You shut him up, pressing a hard kiss to his parted lips.

“Eddie, you lied.”

“What? I'm telling the truth I-”

“You said don't expect fireworks. You were wrong.”

Wasting no more time, you force your body onto him, tongue clashing against his teeth as the force of your kiss presses him backwards. His head makes contact with the arm of the couch, hands hot and heavy on your hips, pushing you into his bulge.

The fabric of your dress is constricting your movements, making you huff into his mouth.

“Eddie,” you manage in between spit slicked kisses, “unzip me.”

There's a cross between a grunt and a moan that vibrates from him into you as his hand wanders across your back, groping its way to the zipper. In a few short bursts he manages to unzip it, not once breaking the kiss.

Cool air hits your skin and you stand up, shimmying the dress to the floor and you straddle him moving in for-

“Woah, slow down a second, just, just wait.”

You try to kiss him again but he pushes you back, your ass flush against his crotch as you sit up. His gaze is scrutinising, examining every inch of your form, making you feel more exposed than you've ever felt in your life.

The desperate urge to shy away works into your arms as you cross them over your chest, but Eddie's having none of it. He tugs at them gently, pulling them to your sides as his thumbs rub encouragement into your skin.

“Sweetheart, there's a thirteen year old boy doing backflips in my head. Let him have a moment.”

A little laugh you let out comes out as a snort whilst he gazes up at you in wonder. So, you give him a show, flicking your bra undone in one practised movement and sliding the straps down your arms, eventually letting it fall to the floor.

“Jesus H Christ and all the angels.” He breathes, grip tightening on your forearms.

A quivering hand reaches up, and to your surprise, cups your face.

“You are so beautiful.”

Eyes suddenly watering, you blink twice to will the onslaught of emotion away.

“Not like Chrissy though,” you shrug, eyes downturned.

“No, you're not like her. You're beautiful, like you.”

Tugging you forward, he pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss, the full force of his feelings overflowing and filling your heart with heat. With a nibble to your bottom lip, he lets up for a second.

“Can we go to my bedroom?”

Nodding, you clamber off him and stand up. Eddie just makes a noise like you knocked the wind out of him, holding his hand to his heart.

“What?” You ask, hands on your hips, like it was normal to be standing in front of him in just a pair of panties.

“Don't look all stern like that, or I'm gonna bust in my pants,” he jokes, standing and crowding your back.

The journey to the bedroom takes a while. Mostly because you can't keep your hands off of each other. He's grinning, giddy as a school boy, firm hands pressing into your sides, hips, ass. You respond in kind, nearly ripping his shirt in your efforts to remove it, only managing to unbutton the offensive material to expose his lean tattooed torso.

Eventually, your spine hits Eddie's mattress, the soft furnishing welcoming you, begging you to sink in further. His touches are soft too, almost reverent in their delivery. He stands to remove his shirt and jeans, bulge prominent in his black trunks with little patterns on them. As he coaxes you further up the bed you squint and realise what they are.

“Eds… are you wearing Star Wars underwear?”

He chuckles, following your eyeline. “They are Darth Vader pants, to be specific, very manly.”

The smile you flash him almost hurts your cheeks, the situation feeling so close to normal. Normal adjacent at least.

“Yeah, very manly. Almost caveman like.”

“Look, I didn't think I'd have a hot girl watching me undress tonight, let alone the woman of my dreams. Just forget the nerd pants.”

You're laughing now, even when he's grabbing a pillow and getting you to lay on top of it, positioning you just where he wants you. Your giggles stop however, when he asks a question that steals your breath away.

“Do I need to put a towel down?”

“That's very presumptuous of you.” You smile, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Look, I'm just asking. I don't mind sleeping in a wet patch I just want you to be comfortable.”

He hovers over you, lips pressed into a line of concern. pressing your mouth to his to will the tightness away, you whisper into his face.

“You want me to stay?”

“Sweetheart, I'd ask you to move in tomorrow.”

The next kiss is a searing heat, all heaving tongue and grinding hips. His hand winds into your hair, tilting your head to get you just where he wants you. No longer the blushing boy, he's the confident man, taking just what he needs and giving you what you crave. It's fire, it's want, it's everything.

“Eds?” You murmur into his mouth as your hips chase his form.

“Hmm?”

“Get the towel.”

Hopping off of you, he practically skips out of the room, leaving you to debate whether or not to take your panties off. As you finally decide to strip them, fingers wedged into the fabric, he returns.

“Nope, just wait, please?” He asks, propping you up with ease to lay the towel down under you. So, you let go, allowing your arms to fall to your sides.

“Lemme look after you,” he says, climbing on top of you to plant open mouthed kisses to your neck. You nod, gasping when his teeth graze a sensitive spot on your neck. Short nails dig into his back as you whimper at the contact.

“Right there princess, hmm?” He chuckles, mouthing at your neck.

“Uh huh- oh fuck,” as he bites softly, tongue flicking out to lather at the spot.

Moving down, his lips press to your collarbone, then down your chest, until he places a peck to your nipple.

“I've been dreaming about these tits, but nothing can compare to the real thing,” his tongue darts out, swirling around the pebbled nub, sending goosebumps over your skin, “fuckin’ flawless sweetheart.”

You want to say a smart remark, shaking your head, but all thoughts fly out the window when he sucks, rough fingers reaching out to rub the other. Back arching, your legs clamp on his little waist, saying their own prayer to keep him there.

As he releases his mouth with a wet noise, the thoughts flood back, all barriers forgotten.

“I've been thinking about you too, what you'd do, what it looks like,” you admit, truths flying free in the heat of the moment.

“Yeah?” He smiles up at you, “been thinking about my dick?”

“Yeah, how'd it feel in my mouth, how'd it feel inside me,” you breathe out as he continues his worship of you, tonguing and kissing at your tummy.

“Fuck,” he says, hot air fanning over his wet string of loving kisses, “you're gonna kill me, saying shit like that.”

“Don't die, I'll never find out,” you joke, breathing unsteady as he falls between your thighs, playfully nipping at the sensitive flesh.

“Oh we wouldn't want that. How else could you know what this feels like?”

Lifting your head, he locks eyes with you as he licks thickly over your clothed clit, pressing hard.

“Oh Eddie, yes,” you wail, wriggling under his touch.

He merely smiles in response, hooking rough fingertips into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down almost torturously slowly. They stick between your legs so much that your cheeks flush. Eddie doesn't seem to mind in the slightest, working them off your feet and tossing them on his bedside table. You briefly wonder if you're going to get them back, but then his lips are sucking at the soft skin on your ankle and you stop caring.

Up, up, up he moves, showing each patch of skin just the same amount of love, until he reaches the crease where your thigh meets, tongue rippling over it. You huff in frustration, hips wiggling.

“I'm getting to it sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to your mound, “I wanna savour this.”

Words of protest dissipate when he laps at you, rooting out your clit without a moment's hesitation. Any clandestine thoughts you had about this very moment are nothing compared to this. To the feel of Eddie sucking at your clit, his pillowy lips wrapped around it. To the sudden roughness of his fingers as they graze your entrance. To the breach of one, slipping deep inside of you, immediately seeking out your sweet spot.

“Eddie, ri-right there, oh God!”

He moans into you, vibrations tickling you in the most delicious way. It's an amazing feeling, but you can't help but think about the noises you're making. Maybe they're pathetic, and not what he's used to? You bet he's heard some beautiful moans in his time. Some pretty blonde things with long legs and big tits. Girls who know what they're doing. Oh God, what if you start feeling him up and he laughs at you? What if-

“Hey, sweetheart, you here?”

He gazes up at you between your legs, eyes boring into you with the question.

“Sorry, so sorry, I'm here I-”

“Hey. Don't apologise. You in your head?” He asks, head resting on your thigh, “you know we don't have to do this right now.”

“No, no I want to, honest, it's just- I dunno, second guessing myself? I'm just thinking about-”

“See? That's the problem. Stop thinking. Lie back and enjoy it. Just, get out of your head. No place I'd rather be.”

His brown eyes are wide, wet with honesty. He was never able to hide his real emotions, at least not with you.

“OK, I'm so- I'll enjoy it.”

“That's it. Close your eyes princess, and just feel.”

Eyes fluttering shut, you concentrate on the feel. Of his lips, suckling softly at your clit, tongue running around the hood. Then, fingers slipping inside once again, curling within you. Moans slither out of your hoarse throat as your hips roll up to meet his lips.

“That's it, so good for me,” he mumbles into you, “doing such a good job. You sound so sweet.”

Sweet. You sound sweet.

In that instant, all your hang ups begin to melt away. The pleasure he's giving you is hitting just right, making you forget all your worries. Pressure builds in your tummy; a whirling, winding force hitting you from the inside out. You're squirming, but it's as if someone outside of you is letting you know. It must be Eddie's firm palm, the one that presses into your abdomen, keeping you steady. Keeping you here, in this moment.

There's no rush. Time loses all meaning. He could be between your thighs for minutes, hours, days. All you know is the ball of desire tightening within you is fit to burst, bubbling over in a melting pot of raw emotion.

“Eddie, I'm so close, s-so close!”

He doesn't falter, doesn't deviate in his ministrations. He continues, tongue circling, fingers curling so deep inside you think you can see God. A swirling, cloying heat encapsulates you, winding around that feeling you buried in your heartstrings and tugging it loose. That deep emotion you pushed aside years ago, a healed splinter, set free by the love and care he's pouring out of his flowing tongue.

It reaches its crescendo, vision darkening as every nerve is coddled with an inner fire. You're not even sure what you feel; release, blinding pleasure, pure love? It could be all three as you cry out, fingers tugging at Eddie's hair.

He rides it out with you, fingers coaxing your orgasm to the very brink and beyond until you flop back into the bed.

The first clue you have that something different just happened is the wet feeling underneath your ass. It feels damp, and cold? Opening your eyes, you haul yourself onto your elbows to look down.

“Now are you glad I said about the towel?”

Never have you seen so much of your own release coated on a man. It's covering his mouth, chin, cheeks, hand. You briefly wonder at how it could have happened, how that much could have come out of you.

Eddie wipes his mouth and hand on the towel underneath and makes his way to hover over your heaving form, eyes practically shooting hearts at you from deep within.

“You alright princess? We can stop right now if it's too much.”

Blindly you reach out, clumsy fingers rubbing at the hard swelling of his member inside his underwear.

“Don't you want me to return the favour?” You ask, confused.

“Sweetheart, one kiss of those pretty lips on my dick and I'll be done for.”

“Then- I'm on birth control. Fuck me, please.”

The groan that he lets out is deep and guttural, moving his limbs for him. He gets up to whip his pants down and you see it for the first time. You see him.

It's big. Fuck, its the biggest you’ve seen; not just long but thick, even thicker than your fumblings thought. A glint of silver throws you for a loop, almost making you think you imagine it, but there it is again.

“Holy shit, Eddie- are you, pierced??”

“Oh yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down to follow your eye line, “you didn't know about that huh.”

He climbs on top of you, kissing as he goes, plush lips on your skin. Soft, delicate, and warm. Guiding his hardness to your opening, you can't help but rub your thumb over the tip, pre cum slipping on the balls of the piercing. Eddie's breath stutters, nearly panting in your mouth as you smirk.

“Now that's not fair sweetheart.”

You continue to smile, gathering your slick to slide him in, but it quickly turns into a wince.

“Fuck, Eddie, you're too big,” you whimper out as your eyes screw shut.

“You're fuckin’ flattering me princess.”

“I'm not, seriously, you're- oh goddamn-”

He's pushing into you, slowly, but it still burns, the sheer stretch at his girth almost too much. Gnawing at your lips, tears well in your eyes.

Eddie looks shocked, taken aback by your reaction.

“Really? Fuck, OK sweetheart, you're OK. Look at me, you can take it, yeah?”

Trust Eddie to say the hottest thing by accident. He's just trying to check in, but by God it sets your insides on fire.

“I-I'll try.”

“That's it, atta girl, little more.”

Reaching down to where you're joined, you wrap your hand loosely around the base, realising he's only halfway in.

“Eddie, jeez you could- oooh- you could have f-fucking warned me, ah!”

“Just relax, I've got you princess, you're taking it so well, you can take the rest- oh Jesus H Christ you're tight.”

A long drawn out cry echoes out of you as he bottoms out, tears loose and running down your temples. He's leaning on his elbows, fingers stroking at your hair, leaving snowflake kisses on your cheeks.

“Uh- mmmph- Eddie, you've got a pornstar dick.”

Gritting his teeth, he looks at you almost sternly.

“You can't say that or I'll cum right now, please.”

Eyes softening, you kiss his lips instead. He envelops you, tongue dancing in your mouth making you forget the dull ache. Nothing can make you forget how full you feel however, your pussy quivering uncontrollably around him even though he's not moving.

“This is so nice,” he says, entwining his fingers with yours over your head.

“Eddie, you're literally balls deep in me and it's ‘nice’?”

Laughing so hard you feel it in your chest, he kisses you again.

“Sorry, I mean, just being this close with you. It's everything I've ever wanted.”

Lips quivering, you stare at him, eyes wide and wet.

“Eddie, I lo-”

“No, don't. Not like this. Just- can I move?”

You nod, biting back the words, and he slowly rolls his hips. Eyes nearly hitting the back of your skull, you moan, meeting his movements. He's so deep, it's like he's everywhere. Every pore, every capillary, pulsing with him.

“Oh my God, baby, oh God!”

You're rambling words but it doesn't seem to matter, mind filled with fog, with feeling. With him. He links one arm under the fat of your thigh, coaxing you to curl it around him, and everything seems to fall into place all at once. Each rolling movement is pressing into that sweet spot inside of you, that spot he seems to find so easily like a gravitational pull. He smiles, panting in tandem.

“Right there princess?”

Nodding like a puppet on a string, he lets out a long groan.

“Good, I-I’m not gonna last, you feel too fuckin’ good.”

Pleased at his reaction, you link one arm around him, stroking at the taut skin of his back as he drives into you harder. Grunting with each thrust, he's tensing, holding back.

“You can come, Eddie,” you say shakily.

“Not before you sweetheart,” he replies, doubling down on his efforts.

It all feels so intense, each whirl of feeling sinking deep into your bones and fanning the flames of your heart and desire.

“Eddie, s-so close, come with me, please.”

Almost as soon as you say the words your climax springs out, overflowing with every emotion he won't let you say. It fizzes through your nerves, throbbing with each beat of your pulse.

Eddie groans, releasing at the same time, two bodies with one heart. As you both relax, melding together, you giggle at the same time. A laugh of relief, of pure happiness.

“Sorry, thought I'd last a little longer.”

He seems embarrassed, lifting his head enough to look you in the eye.

“Eddie, that was perfect.”

He snuggles his head deep in your neck, inhaling your scent as if it were the last time.

“I'm gonna get you cleaned up, hang on.”

Lifting his head once more, he kisses, and kisses, lips moving against you with pure feeling.

“OK, now I'm really gonna go.”

You giggle as he just keeps kissing you, staring up at him with each unspoken word swimming in your mind.

“Right, now, just hang on.”

With a final peck, he slips out of you, returning with a warm cloth. Not used to this affection you merely lay there, allowing him, and wriggle out of the way when he takes away the towel. When you move, you see there's still a wet patch, but it's been mitigated at least somewhat.

“I can change the sheets if you want-”

“Eddie, I don't care, just hold me.”

Grinning like a boy he climbs back into bed, pulling blankets over the both of you. Fitting together like you were always supposed to, you sigh with relief.

“Eddie? Can I say it now?”

You whisper it into his chest as he holds you close, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the evening.

“That depends sweetheart,” he says, fingers tracing unknown patterns on the skin of your arm, “you have to mean it. I couldn't take it if you didn't mean it.”

“I mean it. I love you Eddie, I think I always have.”

The smile in his voice makes you smile too.

“I love you too. Happy Valentine's Day."

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things fan fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff

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papercorgiworld · 3 months

Text

I think it was love at first sight

Mattheo, Theo, Blaise, Draco and Enzo

You overhear the guys say they’ve been in love with you since the day they met you.

Warning? 10% foul language. 90% fluff. 100% cringe? Maybe. But let's just accept the cringe and live a happy life.

Based on this ask. I hope it’s okay? Happy readings!

Feedback is always welcome!

You were new at Hogwarts and your nerves were wrecking you, but you were lucky to have met Pansy on one of her good days. “Let me introduce you to some of my friends.”

There is no such thing as love at first sight. He repeated the thought again and again, because your smile, your voice, your eyes, the small details of your skin, your figure and the lovely way you introduced yourself… it was messing with his head.

***

You had planned to stay in your dorm for the evening so you could study, but your brain just wouldn’t have it. Finally giving up you decide to head up to the astronomy tower to clear your head. You hear whispers and quietly move up the stairs curious to find out who it is, but before you reach the top you hear your name and stop in your tracks.

Mattheo

“I hate (y/n)! She is so annoying. Constantly asking for attention.” You immediately recognise Mattheo’s loud voice and your heart gets squeezed tight at his angry words. “She’s the quietest girl in our year.” Theo’s calm voice relaxes you. “She’s infuriating!” Theodore chuckles. “I know being reasonable isn’t in your genes, but you’re seriously overreacting, Matt.” Mattheo groans, but seems to calm down a bit. “She’s constantly in mind, it drives me mad.” There’s a silence as Theodore takes a drag from his cigarette. “It’s not her fault, you’re falling for her.” Mattheo takes a few steps back as a defense mechanism. “I’m not falling for her.” Theo stares at Mattheo and Mattheo clenches his jaw, until he can no longer keep it in. “Fuck! I’m in love with her.” Theodore can not hide his amusement as Mattheo curses himself.

“No, seriously Theo, it’s not funny. It’s disgusting. I’ve caught myself thinking about how many children we should have. I’m turning into freaking Enzo, all sweet and giddy.” You bite your lip and feel yourself heat up as Mattheo mentions having children with you. “No worries, you’re not turning into Enzo, you still curse too much.” Mattheo sits down clearly not knowing what to do with himself. “You really have it bad for her?” Mattheo nods and chews on his lip. “Ever since Pansy introduced her to us at the beginning of the year, she’s just- she became my whole world.” It is then that Theodore spots you and an apologetic look forms on your face as you realize you've been caught eavesdropping. Mattheo doesn’t notice the silent interaction between you and Theo as he stares down. “I hate it, because I know I don’t stand a chance with her.” When Theodore doesn’t say anything Mattheo looks up at him. “Do you think I have a chance with her?”

Theodore’s eyes jump from Mattheo to you and back. “Why don’t you ask her yourself.” Theodore says as he signals to the stairs. Your flustered figure appears and Mattheo quickly scrambles to his feet as his heart starts racing at the thought that you might have heard something, leave alone everything. “How-how long have you..?” He leaves you with only half a question and you’re surprised to see this insecure side of Mattheo, but now it’s time for you to fess up. "Quite some time.” Mattheo’s eyes fill with panic and he turns to Theo. “Just throw me off of the astronomy tower, I beg you.” Theodore laughs. “I’ll do you one better, I’m going to leave you two alone.”

With Theodore gone you’re both forced to look at eachother. Mattheo’s hands hide in the pockets of his pants as he nonchalantly makes his way over to you. “So, assuming you’ve heard my whole uhm- rant or confession. Let’s just skip to the last bit, do I have a chance?” He stops only inches from you and adores your blushed cheeks. You rest your hand on his arm and slowly move into him to place a most innocent kiss on his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that since Pansy introduced me to you.” In an instant Mattheo is back to being his confident grinning self. He closes the last bit of distance and his hands find their way to your hips. “Also, two children.” You quip and Mattheo smiles, leaning in for an intense kiss. “I was thinking, four.” You laugh at his ambition. “Up for debate."

Theodore

“(Y/n), she thinks she’s some wise ass, but I’ve seen her look at my notes during class.” Enzo just nods, slightly annoyed he had to listen to Theodore complain about you again. You hold your breath as you carefully listen. “And she studies a ridiculous amount to get the same grades as me, so obviously she’s not that smart.” Enzo hums pretending to agree, but he can’t resist a snarky comment. “Too bad Slughorn disagrees with you.” Theo’s eyes roll to Enzo. Who’s side is he on? “Well, she’s dating that Fred guy, so she’s clearly dumb.” Enzo sighs. “They’re just friends.” “Really?” Theodore asks with obvious interest in his voice. Enzo nods. “Good. She’s too pretty and intelligent for a Weasley.” Theodore snares and watches the cigarette between his fingers. “You know the other day some weirdo Gryffindor tried to-“ Enzo sighs. “Ask her out? Yes, you told me. Do you know how often you talk about her?”

Theo frowns as he looks at Enzo’s bored expression. “I know.” Theodore admits and sighs. “It’s just ever since we met her at the beginning of the year, she's been on my mind all the time.” Lorenzo stares at Theodore's defeated face. He was the last guy to talk like this, so Enzo knew it was serious. “She is really beautiful, so it isn’t that much of a surprise.” Theo leans his head back. “It’s not just that. It’s like I want her around all the time as much of a wise ass she can be sometimes. When she isn’t around everything’s just empty.” Enzo stares at Theo and when he notices he immediately shakes his head. “No. It’s not what you think.” Lorenzo can’t help but laugh. “It so is!” “No.” Theo tries to protest. “You are so head over heels for (y/n).” Enzo can no longer hide his amusement and a soft laugh rings through the astronomy tower. “Yes, maybe.” Theo reluctantly admits. “Kinda, have been wanting to ask her out. I even have this whole romantic thing planned out.” Enzo’s happy grin gets on Theodore’s nerves, but he can’t help it. “This is so embarrassing. Enzo, promise me you won’t tell anyone that I’ve been in love with (y/n) since the day I met her.”

Hearing Theo say those words have you gasp and you quickly cover your mouth with your hand. Worried that they might have heard you, you take a step back, but the stairs end up making a lot more noise and you curse yourself. “Someone there?” You hear Enzo call as he comes into view at the top of the stairs. You smile sheepishly. “Who-“ Theo falls silent as pure horror fills his eyes when he sees your blushing face. “Look at the time. I’ve got places to be, bye.” Enzo jumps past you, hurrying down the stairs, but not before giving you a cheeky wink.

When Enzo’s gone you look back at the top of the stairs to see that Theodore has disappeared. You walk up to see him look at the stars as he lights a new cigarette. “Soo, how much did you hear?” He asks as he breathes out. “Enough, but I’m mostly interested in that romantic date you had planned out.” Theo looks you over from head to toe, wary of whether you were messing around or being serious. He gets rid of the cigarette and walks towards you. He loves how your curious eyes follow him and Theo brushes a strand of hair out of your face, carefulling tucking it behind your ear. “I know this small café that’s also a bookstore and there’s cats.” You gasp in excitement, already loving the idea. “But first you have to survive dinner with me.” You purse your lips as you pretend to think it over. “I’ll give it a try, for the cats and the books obviously.” You reach for Theo’s hands and squeeze them as he gets a little annoyed with your playfulness.

“Why must you be such a wise ass?” You smile at him with adoring eyes. “Can’t help it.” You gently push yourself up on your toes to kiss him. The little agitation that was boiling inside of Theo immediately ebbs away as he feels your warmth. It doesn’t take long for Theo’s fire and hunger for you to take over. His hand finds the back of your head keeping you in place as he deepens the kiss sending shivers down your spine.

Blaise

“You think (y/n) and that Weasley guy are a thing?” Blaise asks, pulling Mattheo from his book. Blaise crouches down next to Mattheo who was sitting against a pillar. “Don’t think so.” Mattheo shrugs, but watches Blaise stare in front of him in deep thought. “Why? You interested in her?” Mattheo questions as he wiggles his eyebrows. Blaise looks at Mattheo’s grinning face and throws his head to the side a bit, wondering if he could confide in his friend. “Promise me you won’t laugh.” Blaise’s seriousness has Mattheo close his book. “Sure.” “Ever since we met her on the train that day…” Mattheo silently waits, not blinking, but it takes Blaise a while to find the words and courage. “Damn it, I’m so in love with her.” Blaise is surprised and somewhat relieved that he could finally admit it to himself. “I said don’t laugh.” Mattheo throws his hands up in the air. “I’m not laughing. I’m smiling. I think you two look cute together.”

Blaise rolls his eyes but can’t help, but wonder. Really? “Most of the time I feel like we’re opposites, and yet at the same time I think she’s the greatest person alive. She brings a little sunshine every day. But she’s also weird.” Blaise looks at Mattheo for an opinion. “Dude, all girls are weird.” Blaise nods in agreement. “Yeah, but she's, like, crazy weird.” Mattheo’s typical filthy grin appears. “But she’s hot, though.” Blaise shakes his head. “No, she’s not just hot, she’s beautiful.” This time Mattheo can’t help himself and laughs. “You are sooo in loooove with her.” He sings and Blaise gives him a little shove.

Blaise gets up, embarrassed with himself now that Mattheo is teasing him, and heads for the stairs. As soon as you notice he’s coming your way you try to turn around as quickly as possible, but it’s no use. “(Y/n)?” With a guilty face you turn around. “I wasn’t listening.” Mattheo jumps up and joins Blaise, he can barely keep it together as his eyes sparkle with humor. “She totally heard everything. I’m leaving.” You chew on your lip as you look at your feet, while Mattheo passes you.

Blaise runs his hand over his face trying to calm himself down and you smile softly, feeling guilty. It really was wrong of you to listen in on their conversation. “I did hear everything.” You admit as you walk towards him. “Do you think I’m some weird obsessed guy now?” You laugh and shake your head. “No, apparently I’m the crazy weird one.” Blaise gives you an apologetic smile. “I said that, but I also said you were beautiful.” You lay your hand on his shoulder. “I also heard you say you’ve been in love with me since the day we met.” The slytherin in front of you slowly nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “Which is crazy a coincidence, since that happens to be the same day as I fell for you.” Blaise is surprised to hear that, but quickly closes the last bit of space between you two and rests a hand on the small of your back. “That’s a bizarre coincidence.” You hum in response as you both lean towards one another. The kiss starts slowly, but quickly turns fiery.

“I never believed in love at first sight, until you.” Blaise mutters as he rests his head against yours. “That’s really skeptical coming from someone who attends a magical school.” He smiles and pulls you in for a sweet and loving kiss.

Draco

Draco sits and stares at a shiny green apple, dwelling in deep thoughts about you and him. “Do you think (y/n) is interesting?” Blaise turns against the railing of the astronomy tower and frowns at Draco’s odd question. “You’ve been staring at that apple for too long.” Draco rolls his eyes, not pleased that his friend isn’t taking his question seriously. “I feel like (y/n) is fresh air to me and that’s been bothering me since the day we met.” This time Blaise takes Draco seriously. “What exactly are you saying?” Draco looks away from his apple. “She makes everything better and I always need more of her, her attention, her opinions, her stories, her soft caring attitude. It’s never too much. Before I met her I’ve never been this curious about someone, never wanted to be around someone so bad.”

Your heart swells at Draco’s sweet words, but of course Draco had to say something stupid. “Which is weird, because she’s not that interesting.” Blaise’s eyebrows knit together for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “You are definitely interested in her, that’s for sure.” Draco scoffs. “No, it’s not like that… is it? Shit, you think? I’m so in love with that… idiot.” Blaise laughs. “Idiot? Just a minute ago she was fresh air?” Draco just glares at Blaise who tries his best to hide his smile.

“You should tell her.” Blaise suggests. “Tell her what exactly? Oh hey (y/n), fun fact, I’ve been crushing on you since day one, please love me.” You smile at what an utter idiot Draco is and decide to immediately shut him up by walking up to him. Blaise is the first to spot you and his eyes go crazy wide. “That indeed is a fun fact.” You say, making Draco spin around to see if he recognised your voice right. Blaise takes Draco’s apple from his perplexed figure and heads for the stairs. “See you guys tomorrow.” He says casually and you smile at him, but Draco doesn’t move.

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.” Draco manages to say after a few seconds of silence and you roll your eyes. You take a few steps towards him and start playing with his tie. “You’re an idiot, Draco.” He nods and admires how your fingers play with his tie. “I’m an idiot, but please love me.” Draco breathes out and you meet his eyes, surprised by his sudden courage even if it took the form of a desperate plea. His hands gently move over your arms until he wraps his hands around yours, squeezing them softly. “I’ve already been loving you since day one.” You confess and a surprised smirk tugs on Draco lips. “Seriously?” You nod and move into him. He’s still a little shocked and it takes him a second to kiss back, but the passion makes up for the wait.

Enzo

“You know, I was thinking about (y/n). And I was wondering- Do you believe in love at first sight?” Draco stares at Enzo, wondering where the hell the others are. Realizing that there was no else to answer Lorenzo’s question, Draco rolls his eyes and thinks about it for a second. “You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t even know if I believe in love.” Enzo frowns. “That’s just depressing.” Draco huffs. “But what does that have to do with (y/n)?” Draco’s question gets Enzo a bit flustered and he tries to play it cool, just lifting his shoulders. “Nothing.” Draco raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “You’ve got to be the worst liar at Hogwarts.” Enzo acts like he doesn’t know what Draco’s talking about.

“Come on, spill it, Berkshire.” Draco snaps, but Lorenzo is used to his attitude and ignores it, happy to talk about his worries. “Look, do you think (y/n) would freak out if I told her I had been obsessing about her since Pansy first introduced us.” Draco thinks for a moment. “What do you mean by ‘obsessing’?” You take a step closer so you’re sure to hear what Lorenzo has to say next. He takes a deep breath. “You know, nothing out of the ordinary. Just… I was thinking of a spring wedding, some small town by the beach kinda honeymoon, a classical house with a big garden for the creatures and five kids, you know that kinda stuff.” Draco honestly doesn’t know what to say. “Do you think she’ll run in the other direction if she hears this?” Draco nods. “Enzo, you’ve officially lost it. She’ll definitely run in the other direction.” Disappointment washes away Lorenzo's excited smile.

“No. She won’t.” You say softly as you make yourself known. Lorenzo’s eyes go wide as he sees you. “I think it’s sweet and I do believe in love at first sight.” You continue as you walk towards a blushing Enzo. “You two are disturbingly perfect for one another.” Draco jokes and Lorenzo glares, making Draco raise his hands in defense. “You give the absolute worst advice ever. Now get out of here.” While muttering some complaints Draco leaves you two alone and you can’t help but laugh. “You ask Draco for love advice?” With a sheepish expression Enzo raises his shoulder. “I was desperate. I was so worried you would freak out, but I also couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. (Y/n), ever since-“ You don’t let him finish and just kiss him like you’ve wanted to do since you met him.

Lorenzo doesn’t waste any time wrapping his arms around you and deepening the kiss. “I’m so freaking in love with you Enzo Berkshire.” He lifts you off the floor as he again locks his lips with yours. “I think we’re simping for each other.” You laugh and nod in agreement. “Definitely.”

#slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x reader #enzo berkshire #blaise zabini #blaise zabini imagine #blaise zabini x reader #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #papercorgiworldwritings

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ozzgin · 4 months

Text

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows.

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette.

You swallow.

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves.

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago.

"No."

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess.

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick.

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture.

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity.

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly.

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery.

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details.

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues.

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh.

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family.

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching.

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds.

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?"

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job."

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly.

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him.

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats.

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects.

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes."

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already.

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant.

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's.

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out.

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin.

You grimace a little at the mental image.

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips.

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #male yandere x reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #original character #yandere boyfriend

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wonderlandwalker · 22 days

Text

First Impressions | Eddie Munson x Reader

Stranger Things Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: Eddie learns that Dustin has a recently reunited sister, and from the moment he meets you he's a goner.

Content Warnings / Tags: Pure fluff, henderson!reader, tiny mention of a fight but nothing descriptive, not edited, no use of y/n

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: Eddie brain rot cause I couldn't keep it in. Don't know if this is my best work but I'm planning to write more chapters on this so it's just a start, hope you like it

“You need a ride home after this?” It was more of a formality than an actual question, he always drove Dustin home after a session.

“Oh that’s okay, my sister is picking me up.” Dustin didn’t even look up from packing his things away, but Eddie’s head shot up.

“Your- you have a sister, since when?” As far as he knew Dustin was an only child, but now he was wrecking his brain trying to think if he had ever mentioned you before.

“I know you’re bad at math Eddie, but I just told you she’s driving so try and put the pieces together.” Dustin was looking up at him now, challenging him.

“Alright smartass, it’s time for you to shut up.” He told him as he ruffled through his hair, leaving behind an agitated Dustin trying frantically to fix it.

The others had already gone home, but Dustin stayed behind late to help Eddie finish up, a habit that became more and more common as the two grew closer. When they finished packing up Eddie locked the door behind them, and while walking to the parking lot decided he wasn’t quite done interrogating Dustin.

“If you have an older sister, how come I've never seen her around before?”

“I mean she’s been around during holidays before, she lived with dad though but they had a big fight so she’s moved here.” It seemed like a sore topic, so Eddie dropped it for now.

As they got to the entrance of the school and felt the cool air on their skin Eddie indeed noticed another car in the usually empty lot, and you were sitting on the hood of it, a book in your hands as you patiently waited. The last rays of sunshine graced your figure as if the heavens themselves were blessing you, and Eddie had never been so sure he’d seena goddess in his life. It was just like the tales he knew so well, the ones he still devoted his life to, it was as if they were becoming true. You looked up when you heard them approach, smiling at the sight of them and giving Dustin a quick side hug as they reached you.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot of good things.” You held your hand out for Eddie to take, but all he could do was look at it, staring ahead as if hitting pause in a game, he stood still. He wanted to react, to not make the most horrible first impression possible, but the longer he looked at you the worse it got, getting lost in sight of your smile. “Alright, not a fan of handshakes, notes.” You chuckled as you withdrew your hand, and Eddie cursed himself for not having taken the opportunity to feel how soft your skin must’ve been. You looked at him again, your eyes piercing straight through his soul and he wondered if maybe he had found himself in one of his fantasy worlds, he must have. But the next second he shook himself out of it, because you were real, you were real and in front of him and expecting him to say something.

“I’m Eddie.” he said, nodding his head as if to confirm his own statement.

“So I’ve been told.” Another giggle slipped past your lips, and Eddie wasnt sure if it was from nerves or entertainment, but he was dying to hear more of it, even if he had to make a fool of himself to do so.

Dustins head kept going back and forth as if watching a tennis match of idiocracy. He had never seen Eddie so flustered, so used to the man flaunting with every opportunity that presented itself that this seemed quite out of character. In full disclosure, it was kind of freaking him out to see Eddie so beside himself, and it was freaking him out even further that he couldn’t figure out why. It was probably blatantly obvious to anyone else, but maybe it was for the best that Dustin couldn’t place where the tension originated from, either way, his patience had run out

“Can we go home now, I still have to call Mike to discuss our net strategies” You tore your eyes from Eddie, deciding that maybe it was for the best to head home.

“Yeah alright, maybe I’ll see you around Eddie.” You gave him one last smile as you got in the car with Dustin and drove off, but it took him another minute to pick his shambled ego up from the concrete ground as he berated himself for not being able to utter one coherent sentence. As he got in his van and drove home as well he decided he’d have to grill Dustin for more information on you the next time he’d see him. As he got to the trailer he grumbled a hello to Wayne before disappearing to his room, ignoring the backhanded comment he got about his grumpy disposition.

He wondered if he’d ever be able to convince you he was cool, whether he’d be able to get you to agree to see him again, but after what just transpired he figured the odds were slim. Not that he’d give up so easily, he didn’t have much of a reputation to lose and if he’d be able to get you to laugh again that would be more than enough. But he didn’t get to wonder for long as Wayne knocked on his door, he was ready to tell the man to leave him alone, but the next sentence was one that confused him immensely

“Someone on the phone for you.” Wayne held the phone out to him, expecting him to get up from the bed and take it, but Eddie didn’t move an inch.

“For me, you sure?” He was still not quite sure what to do. “Unless another Eddie is living here I’m pretty sure.” He moved his hand again to accentuate the phone that was still on hold, but once again Eddie just sat there.

“If you want I can tell her to call back-” That’s when he sprung into action, snatching the phoen out of Wayne’s hand

“No! No, I got it. Thank you.” The old man simply chuckled as he left again, closing the door behind him to give his nephew some privacy.

Eddie cleared his throat once before picking up the line put on hold.

“Hello?” he asked, still not quite sure what to do.

“Hi, Eddie it’s me, just wanted to see if you were doing alright.” your sweet voice blessed his ears once more. He doesn’t know what he did to get the universe on his side like this, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

“Yeah I’m good, listen-” Eddie figured this time he shouldn’t waste his chance, and he probably had some making up to do. “- I’m sorry if I freaked you out earlier, just never seen anyone that pretty before.” You were giggling again, and it brought the biggest grin onto his face. “You didn’t weird me out at all, it was kinda cute. I had to bribe Dustin to let me use the phone so I don’t have much time but I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out this weekend?” Maybe he should’ve waited a beart before answering, but he was too eager to care.

“Go out, as in a date?” It got him blushing, the red creeping up on his cheeks as he wondered if that’s really what you were asking

“I mean, kinda, if you want to.” He could almost see you blushing on the other side of the line as well, and he decided it was now or never.

“I’d love to.”

“That’s great, I’m still kind of new around here, do you know any good places?” Your smile was present as you spoke, and he was already looking forward to seeing it again, now knowing he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“How about I come and pick you up, we can go to the mall.” His confidence was growing with the minute now, absolutely elated by the turn of events.

“Im looking forward to it” He wondered what you’d wear, knowing whatever it was it would look beautiful on you, and he knew he’d spend the entire date amazed at your presence.

“Me too” he said before the both of you hung up the phone, he had already started planning the most amazing evening out, and maybe, he thought, maybe this year really would take a turn for the better.

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 3 months

Text

Ask and ye shall receive! Double update today because that last part was so short and Vox'less.

He's so melodramatic. Vox and Alastor have their pity party tantrums in common for suuuuure.

More Than Anything Part 2.5 VOX POV [Vox x Reader]

Part 1

Part 2

More Than Anything Part 2.5 VOX POV [Vox x Reader]

To say Vox was furious would be an understatement. Much like you, his emotions ran HIGH. And dear god were they going haywire after he came to.

When Valentino finally came into his room after hearing so much crashing and screaming all the way from the large break room exclusively made for the Vee's, the bedroom was a wreck. Broken screens and miscellaneous things were thrown everywhere. Vox had even tossed a lamp through one of the large wall windows that overlooked the city. Valentino peered curiously down to see a crowd taking pictures of some poor sinner who had been squashed by the offending piece of furniture.

Vox was trembling with anger and heartache as Valentino looked over him with an unreadable expression. A sadistic part of Valentino was actually enjoying Vox's suffering. The moth still wasn't quite over Vox bringing their on-and-off situationship to an official end. Valentino didn't see what the big deal about you was and it annoyed him that Vox was "pursuing something real" as if he wasn't enough. It wasn't his fault Vox was so damn petty!

Valentino still liked to hope that maybe your relationship would end and things could go back to how they were before, but without Vox bitching about Valentino fucking Angel as much. That being said, he also knew he should probably get Vox calm before he caused any more of a scene that could be noticed by the public.

He opened his mouth to say something, only to snap it shut with an unimpressed frown as Vox screamed in rage and tried to flip the bed. He was such a man-child sometimes.

"THAT O̷̡̧̅͆L̷̻̒̇D̸̞̆-̶̲̓Ţ̵̧́̽I̷̝͐̈M̵͉̀̈E̸̩̗̿Y̸̜̪̑͐ NO GOOD SON OF A F̸̄ͅU̵̲͒C̴͓͠Ḵ̷̇I̸̤͉͑̅Ṅ̶͚͊G̸̣̅ ̷͔͋̄B̴͖̍̚Î̵̖T̸͕̆Ċ̴̪Ḧ̷̖́, "He growled. "Why couldn't Alastor just keep his stupid tinny voice s̴̤̿͒h̴̳̔́ͅǔ̷͙̣t̷̩͍́́?̶̰̐!̶̳̟́"

Valentino rolled his eyes, pulling out his lighter and blowing out a plume of smoke. He knew it didn't actually work on Vox, but it helped calm his own nerves. "Oh, come now cabrón. You act like you didn't do this to yourself."

"Oh go choke to double death on a horse cock," Vox spat as his claws ripped into something else. The last thing he needed was Valentino rubbing salt in the wound. Vox knew this was his fault. He knew he'd fucked up and crossed a line. But it was easier to blame Alastor for spilling the secret. It was easier to blame him, rather than look at the cold hard truth that in his attempts to protect you, he may have lost you for good.

He'd called you twenty times and had sent so many texts that the security system he'd installed on your phone flagged him as spam. Needless to say, he hacked into they system and tore the firewalls he'd designed to shreds. The only thing that kept him from rebooting for the fifth time in the past hour was the distant feeling of your soul. He felt where you were and felt that you were safe. But he could also feel your pain. The soul bound by his own could feel the way it tore itself into pieces as you burned through the angst that he'd caused.

"Don't get snippy with me," Valentino scoffed. He crossed the room and used his pipe to lift Vox's face. Vox smacked the damn thing away from him with a snarl, and Valentino simply blew a puff of smoke against his screen. "It's not my fault that your little cunt of a plaything is so sensitive. You're the one who asked for this, baby."

Vox flinched hard as Valentino's hands trailed down his chest. His heart rate picked up for another reason as the pink haze swirled between them. Sometimes the way Valentino manipulated him every which way so easily made Vox wonder if he truly was immune to the aphrodisiac of Valentino's spells.

"Isn't it about time you forget that little bitch and come crawling back?" Valentino purred, his nails scratching down Vox's chest and drawing blood. He lowered his face to the side of Vox's head and smirked. "Come back to me, luciérnaga~"

Vox gasped, his arms shooting out and shoving Valentino away from him. Valentino squawked in outrage as Vox felt an unpleasant hum of anxious energy thrumming through his veins. He felt a panic attack approaching rapidly and retreated into one of the broken cameras that still had an electrical charge. He reappeared in his monitor room and fell to his knees. He lurched as he fought the urge to vomit and grit his teeth as dead pixels filled his screen through the painful glitches.

Everything was too much. It was too damn much.

You. Valentino. Alastor. His own damn hubris. It was too much. He sent out a fresh wave of desperate pleas to your phone's inbox as he spiraled into self-doubt and loathing. He needed you back. You were the one that showed him a brighter life. One that wasn't bound to the poisonous desire of Valentino. A life where he felt seen for who he really was. You didn't see him as a figurehead of evil intent and merciless charisma like everyone else. You didn't see his power, you knew his weakness. And you showed him that he could be loved for it, not just in spite of it.

The week passes by in a blur. Valentino didn't mention the way Vox rejected him and both of the Vee's tried to force Vox to get his shit together. They even held him down and locked him in a room without cameras when he tried to leave the tower to go after you. The image of the trio was too precious for either Vee to let him destroy it in an emotional rampage.

They'd given him a shit old phone to keep obsessively trying to get ahold of you through, but besides that, he was practically a prisoner to his own fuck ups.

"I̵̥͗'̴͇͈̏͗ṃ̵͎̇͠ ̷̘̐͝s̸̖̈̽ȏ̷̼̞r̴̛̯̈ȑ̸̩͘ỹ̷̪," Vox sobbed as he held the phone to his head in a broken prayer. His voice and screen hadn't been clear for the past day. He was at his wit's end and wondered how he ever thought hell was hell before now. This was the suffering all the dumbasses back on earth expected for the forsaken. Hell before now was a piece of cake compared to what he felt now.

He was alone and sinking further into his own despair. And the only thing that'd be able to pull him out was you.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #brain rot go brrr #valentino

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impyssadobsessions · 2 months

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DPXDC Prompt: Who is Danny Fenton?

Warning: This one will be dark as it contains character deaths and violence.

Danyal replaced Danny Fenton a long time ago. As in the original died and Danyal needed a place to hide.

He could have killed him or maybe there was an accident. But he's been masquerading as Danny Fenton for a long time.

But imagine Danyal Al Ghul did kill a kid to take his place. Or at least might have put him out of his misery of something tragic that happened.. as if he wasn't stalking homes to try and pretend to be someone's else's child after leaving the league.

Wasn't "his" fault the kid was stupid enough to cross paths and get hurt.

Though guilt does follow him as he pretends and easily slides into the kids life. Reason he "starts" to drift from Jazz, she's the only one that eyeing him too closely and he doesn't like it. Blame it on her being a nag.

Its why he survived the portal incident. He was already contaminated.

All this to avoid having to fight his brother and being kicked around by his grandfather.

Only to have karma bite him in the ass. Not only he failed to come back fully- unlike the pit rage that made you forget yourself- this form seems to make every regret and terrible action dig its claws deeper in every painful way.

Even worse if you play the whole phantom is a ghost combined with Danny.. so phantom is danny fenton.

Now he's lost anything he could have pride in. Thanks to his accident, he's had harder time controlling his body.. especially with his powers. Clumsy. Uneven. He knew he was out of sorts from not practicing but he doubt he be this bad.

His life forever now half of either existence. He couldn't pretend anymore. Once his new parents find out- they would try to kill him.

Back to square fucking one.

And this time. He doubt even his brother or mother would lend a pity hand. Not like he would want it.

AMG just now thought maybe he would go to Gotham after he killed Vlad and was caught by the Fentons.

He warned Vlad and told him he was getting onto his last nerve. Even told him that Jack wasn't his dad and Maddie wasn't his mom, hell he wasn't even Danny Fenton. But if he had to tell him who he was he was going to regret it.

Vlad went even harder losing interest in Danny- only for Danny to make a sword with his powers and show Vlad WHO he was.

He was trying to be like his father- batman. He is the grandson of the demon king- and former member of league of assassins.

Vlad begging when he realizes Danny been holding back and actual death is on the horizon. "I'm Danyal Al Ghul. And I'm tired of you."

Danny did do it to save everyone permanently but after brutally killing Vlad- is when first his friends show up to warn him about his parents just to see what he done.

Danny laughing awkwardly like.. you-you saw that.. didn't you? heh- Then Fentons barge in. Jack is emotional wreck.

Actually getting a few good hits in, before Danny decided to play dead again and let Jack think he destroyed him.

Flying back to gather his stuff to leave permanently. He couldn't take the guilt of looking at Jack's face. Danny Fenton is dead anyways.

Only to be confronted by Jazz later who shakily asks if Danny is her brother.

Danny being honest, "no."

"For how long?" Jazz saying she knows it had to be before the accident.

"…we we're 8."

Jazz asking trying not to sob did he kill him.

"Mercifully." Then explains he was going to die anyways-

"You don't know that-"

"Actually I DO. I know what it takes to KILL someone, what could allow someone to live. That's something I DO know. And if he had managed to live he would be a vegetable." Explaining how the injury to his spinal cord was not recoverable. just imagine its so bittersweet, because Jazz does love her brother still. But Danny has been a lie this whole time.. or at least being Fenton was. Most of the laughs have become real, jokes, the friendship.

But Danny knows he can't fix this.. so he leaves.

Jazz torn whether to beg him to stay or to go.. and just ends up choking up watching him leave.

thus Danny not sure where to go decides its bout time he at least sees his father.

whether he let him see him or not is undecided.

Jack will either be blame for the murder of Vlad, or Phantom will be exposed.

Either way. Danny knew he royally fucked up.. again.

Ooo what if Danny does join the bats but insist he just wants to be a normal teen. Has a fully researched and planned backstory… mostly leaving out things because its "hard" to talk about. How he lived from foster home to foster home pretending to be different children until he just escape.

Until Jazz , Sam , and Tuck come to find him. Having audio where Danny stated he was the son of batman. Danyal Al ghul. So they figured if they find batman. They might find Danny.

Sam and Tucker want answers.. also mixed about Danny.. but dammit they been through so much.. HOW COULD HE keep that from them? They're not going to let him runaway from this. Tucker also adds unless he threatens to kill us.

Jazz had resolved her feelings. Analyzing everything since Danny was 8. When the switch happened. What was him acting and when the real Danyal appeared.

And had decided she didn't care. Danny was her BROTHER. And honestly is the only thing she has left right now. And she wants him back. Wants to help him heal, wants to help him.

Sam and Tuck want their answers then decide what to do from there. They don't WANT everything they knew to be a lie.

And now Batman is aware of more of his son- Damian knowing more of what his twin been up too.

Its a race to get answers out of Danny before he figures it out and disappears for good.

Can see Damian being the best to help Danny through this. Especially since Jon and Dick helped him not feel so bad about the league.

Danny though pointing out- "Difference, the league didn't make me kill a kid, nor a pathetic billionaire."

"You're right. It would have made you kill me."

Danny just breaks.

Thus finally able to admit all his guilt and how terrible he feels about himself. How he TRIED to be like Father but.. he failed so hard. He failed. He failed EVERYTHING. Just a loser. A failure. A waste. Only to be reminded that if he was one- he wouldn't have so many people wanting to know him. He's scared to face his friends' and sister. He knows its gonna hurt. And it does. But even though he isn't forgiven there is hope things can move on from it. Sam and Tucker will have some serious trust issues and take a while to decipher what part is Danny and what isn't. Meanwhile, yes Jazz feels betrayed. She understands and mostly just want to get to know HER brother more.. Danny more. Hope this opens up the wall she wanted to break down this whole time. And as long as Danny shows her who he is, and tries to work on himself. She doesn't care who he was or how he got there. Also he has to show her what he done with her little brother's body and give it a proper burial. Which Danny happily will- giving it a proper burial.. not showing jazz. He's still afraid she'll immediately hate him once she does. Also can see Bruce being so conflicted but Damian, Dick, and Jason all standing up for Danny. Especially Jason once hearing why Danny killed Vlad was to PROTECT his family and town. He gave him fair warning.. So imagine Bruce and Danny having hard time getting along after everything is revealed. But more so just Bruce unable to comprehend the conflicted emotions. Danny tried to emulate him.. but failed. But he tried to do good.. yet he still killed. So its more so awkward than anything. Bruce still wants to give his son the best. Then I can see Danny helping out- though he keeps phantom a secret from the public. He's always invisible or barely seen.

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iznsfw · 4 months

Text

Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem.

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage.

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer.

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all.

“You good?” asks Eunbi.

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply.

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon.

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama.

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes.

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it.

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff.

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails.

You huff. “I’m trying.”

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished.

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!”

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure.

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished.

“Ms. Kang!”

Curl.

Thread.

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her.

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?”

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks.

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional.

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no?

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse?

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do.

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done.

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job.

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around.

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely.

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers.

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows.

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design.

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world.

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours.

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it.

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles.

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people.

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault.

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.”

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop.

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth.

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright.

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy?

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck.

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.”

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her.

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile.

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on.

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.”

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media. Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.”

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well.

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty.

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.”

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so.

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.”

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.”

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking.

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless.

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.”

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver.

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is.

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar.

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent.

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.”

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further.

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles.

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them.

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch.

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet.

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh.

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them.

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart.

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy.

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts.

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs.

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger.

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!”

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!”

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to.

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues.

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.”

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore.

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

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just-a-sewer-goblin · 14 days

Text

Part 2 to this

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader

Butcher!Simon who is bored. It's a regular day and he just doesn't enjoy interacting with customers. It's just not his thing. The only exception is you but you always come in on tuesday and friday and today is neither. He sighs and grunts when another customer pays and leaves.

Imagine the way he suddenly perks up when he sees you approach the shop. The shop is empty except for him and so he gets the joy of watching you approach, your big ugly mutt on a leash, pacing besides you, never even tugging on the leash, focused on you.

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards when you stop before the shop and chew your lip indecisively rereading the sign that forbids dogs from entering (he loved and hates when you do that, nasty habit, but he wants to be the one to bite your lip instead).

You meet his eyes, that are already trained on you, intensely, and in an effort to not make you more uncomfortable he waves.

Shit did that look too excited? Maybe he can reassure you if he nods at you so you bring the dog in with you?

He nods his head at you. Hopefully you get what he's trying to tell you and don't think he's completely lost his mind now.

And oh, his thoughts come to a screeching halt, when you open the door and enter the shop, your dog at your hip.

Goddamit, Simon nearly groans in frustration. He wanted to prepare dog treats, but he didn't expect you today. How is he supposed to charm you if your brute of a dog doesn't like him?

But he doesn't have time to think more about that because you're at the counter and smile at him. He notices how much more at ease and confident you seem with your calf of a dog with you.

Maybe your dog is your equivalent of his mask.

And suddenly he's nervous. He never cared about the impression he makes on other but man, does he want to get along with your dog. He tries to hide his nerves when he says: "Didn't expect you today." His voice is gruff.

You don't seem as intimidated today, patting the head of your dog and saying with a smile that's audible in your voice (god, what he'd do to be the cause of that smile): "Yeah today is an exception. It's the anniversary of when I got my big baby."

Simon grabs the counter to keep from reaching for you and just snatching you up in his arms. Fuck. What he'd do for you to look at him like that, to call him your big baby. Maybe in his next life he gets to be reborn as your pet.

He nods at you, eyes intensely trained on your happy expression. "May I give him a treat, as an anniversary gift?"

Will you think that's ridiculous? Tell him to fuck off because it aint his business and he's being a creep anyway with the way he can't. Fucking. Take. His. Eyes. Off. You.

Instead you beam up at him and Simon feels something in his chest clench painfully at that. "Yes, of course."

He reaches for a piece of meat and steps out behind the counter. Pretending that he doesn't see the way your eyes widen when he steps closer and you grow more aware of just how broad and big he is. Pretending that he doesn't notice the way your hands clench around the leash tighter.

"He's friendly, just let him take it from you and don't pet him. He doesn't like that.", you say putting a reassuring hand on the back of your mutt.

Simon extends his hand with the meat and tried to read the tag at his collar.

"Easy, boy. Just a treat for you, for taking care of your owner so well."

He's so focused on trying to impress the dog (why is this so nerve wrecking) that he misses the way you bite your lip at the sound of his voice. He's insanely proud that he managed to not say "my love" instead. Doesn't want to scare you off after all.

Your dog takes a step forward, sniffs his fingers for a tense minute and then gently takes the meat from his hand, chewing it loudly making a pleased rumbling sound.

Simon feels like he won the lottery.

"Good boy.", your voice rings out and now it's not only Simons chest that clenches but something deep in his stomach as well, something delicious and needy.

His eyes meet yours and he feels like he's doused in cold water when he sees you looking at the dog.

You were talking to the dog. Of course.

#the sewer writes #butcher!simon #butcher!simon x gn!reader #gn!reader #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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mandarinmoons · 2 months

Note

could you write spencer x reader where she's pregnant but everyone finds out before reader does and spencer is the one to tell her, like the scene with Cece and schmidt in new girl. ofc u can write it however that's just where i got the idea from. thank you 💋

I haven't seen New Girl so I don't know how it all went down in the show, but I hope my take is alright x

The members of the BAU had started to notice that you had started to act a bit strange.

JJ noticed that you had started to go to the bathroom at what seemed like every half an hour while Penelope, who was known as the team’s personal baker, saw that you had started to decline her homemade cookies. Something was fishy.

“Spencer!” Penelope carefully hurried to the man’s way in her high heels, “We gotta talk.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Have you noticed that Y/N’s been acting a bit, hmm, I don’t know, strange lately?”

Spencer furrowed his brows and blinked a few times, “What do you mean?”

“Y/N is always the first one to take one of my cookies whenever I bring them in and now she’s refusing and saying the smell makes her feel sick. And, and JJ said that Y/N’s been feeling sick lately and-,”

“Wait, what? She’s sick?”

Penelope's eyes widen and she stares at Spencer, “You didn’t know? JJ’s noticed that she’s been going into the bathroom a whole lot recently.”

Spencer shook his head as he glanced towards you. Usually he’s the first to notice whenever you’re acting off, but with all of the work being piled up on his desk, if it didn’t happen right in front of his eyes, he wouldn’t be in the know.

“Have you noticed anything else?”

“Uh let’s see, she said she’s been feeling more tired recently. She said it could be from going to bed later at night or- oh wait, you don’t think that…”

Spencer nodded and excused himself as he walked towards you, the idea of what could be causing your unease could be more beautiful than nerve wrecking.

Spencer walked up behind your desk chair and rested his hands on your shoulders, his thumbs rubbing over the blades.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m alright,” you looked up from your paperwork and gave Spencer a smile.

“Penelope said you’ve felt a bit sick lately.”

“Oh um, yeah it’s nothing though. I’m sure it’ll pass soon.”

“Are you sure? How long has it been going on?”

“Oh um, I’m not sure, a week maybe?”

“A week? And you haven’t told me?”

“Spence I’m sorry I just, it’s always gotten better and I didn’t want to worry you.”

“But it’s kept coming back?”

“I guess yeah, why?”

Spencer sighed and caressed your cheek, “Sweetheart, don’t you see?”

You furrowed your brows and a moment later you realized what Spencer was hinting at, it was becoming clear.

“You don’t think that I’m…”

“Pregnant? It could be.”

You sighed and rubbed your hands over your face. Spencer kneeled down in front of you and took your hands in his, "Hey, listen to me, we’re going to be okay. I’m right here with you through all of it and if it really is what we think it is then I’m going to do my best to take care of both of you, I promise.”

“I know you would, Spence, it’s just a lot of responsibility.”

“I know, but I’m willing to put in the effort. I want this, I want this with you.”

Tears pricked your eyes and Spencer leaned over and kissed your forehead.

Later that night as the work day ended you and Spencer stopped by a pharmacy and picked up a few pregnancy tests and headed home with crossed fingers.

Half an hour later and four pregnancy tests later, that were all positive. Spencer held you tightly in his arms as you both took in the news, you were going to be parents.

“Are you sure you want this? With me?”

Spencer nodded and kissed your head, “Of course, there’s no one else I’d rather experience this with. Do you want this?”

You looked up at Spencer as he brushed the hair from your eyes. You thought about the time you had spent together, how over the years it seemed like he became even more delicate with you if that were even possible. The times you had seen him with kids made your heart soar and a part of you did hope that one day you could experience the joy of having a family together. Sure this was unplanned, but that didn’t mean you two weren’t ready.

“I do want this, I want this with you.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @indigosamsblog

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lovelettersfromluna · 5 months

Text

Bloom

Summary: “Uh-oh, I’m falling in love”

an: it’s time to say goodbye to these two, I hope you’ve enjoyed them as much as I did. Thanks for reading 🥹

Warnings: SMUT!! MDNI! 18+, mentions hospitals, reader is an emotional wreck at one point, Ellie flirts with another girl, lots of angst in this one, scissoring, petnames, sex on the beach, love making, lmk if I missed anything!

You can read part 1 here, and part 2 here!

Taglist: @macaroni676 @aouiaa @skylerwhitwyo @callmewhenyoukan

They always say that no matter what, you’ll never truly be ready for your wedding day.

Everyone you’ve spoken to, always says the same thing. They tell you you can never really prepare for it, no matter what you do, the feelings that you’re going to feel are going to be like no other, you’ll feel things that you weren’t sure even existed before your wedding day, but despite everything, you are going to be the happiest girl on the entire planet.

So…why did you feel so fucking bad on the morning of it all?

There was a sinking feeling that followed you the entire week leading up to your wedding day, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t shake it. It loomed over you, and it made everything so fucking dark, and dreary, and it made you feel like there was something you were missing, the terrible feeling of forgetting something vital.

As you gave it more thought, trying to pinpoint when and where this feeling began, an attempt at trying to find the source of it all and get rid of it, you realized what it was that was making you feel this way.

It was Ellie.

It was the lack of her by your side through one of the biggest moments in your life. From the moment your fiancé proposed to you, you envisioned Ellie right there with you, through every step of the way, cheering you on.

But after the last phone call you had with her, it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

The words that Ellie said to you, it was like you were speaking to a different person. It was as if someone had replaced your best friend, instead giving you a girl who treated you as a stranger, shouting at you, pushing you away.

It burned you from the inside out.

It left a bitter taste in your mouth, a burning sensation in your throat, and tear stained cheeks. Your fiancé tried to help, she held you the night after you got off the phone with Ellie, assuring you that it wasn’t you, that it was something she’s going through.

The woman that was marrying you held you as you cried over someone else.

And maybe that should’ve been a sign, a clue to your oblivious little mind that you should’ve second guessed the whole thing, taken a step back to look at the bigger picture.

But you didn’t.

You endured the pain, and pushed down the ugly feeling that settled at the pit of your stomach on the days leading up to your wedding, chalking it up the be the nerves that came with it all.

Because you can never truly prepare for your wedding day, right?

You didn’t even realize you were crying as you were sat in the chair in front of the vanity, a soft gasp falling from the lips of the makeup artist as she quickly reached over to the table and grabbed a tissue, bringing it to your cheek.

You frowned softly as your eyes focused on yourself in the mirror, watching as she gently dabbed away the tears on your face.

“Fuck…I’m so sorry…” you quickly apologized, gently taking the tissue from her and dabbing the tears away.

She giggled softly, shaking her head as she gave you a fond smile. “Oh please don’t apologize, I get it” she hummed out softly before she brushed a strand out of your hair and went back to doing your makeup.

“Wedding day jitters always creep up on you…I was a mess the entire morning of mine” she giggled softly before she gave you a reassuring nod.

She was simply trying to help, assuring you that whatever you were feeling was completely normal, something that came with the motives of being a bride.

But if she was trying to help, why did it only make you feel worse?

Because deep down, you knew this was different, and you knew that what you were feeling had little to do with the fact that you were getting married today.

It was like you were numb to it all, watching as everyone around you primped and tucked at you, making sure your hair was pinned in place, your dress was adjusted properly, your makeup was perfect, but it was like you weren’t even there, like everyone around you was simply dressing up a mannequin instead of a girl.

When it was finally time to step in front of the mirror to take a look at yourself, you couldn’t even recognize the person that stared back at you. The girl in the mirror looked beautiful, the perfect dress, the perfect hair and makeup, decked out in every brides dream.

But the eyes that stared back at you, they were hollow, they were vacant of something that used to twinkle in photos and videos, a spark of life that was once there, now almost completely gone.

The person in the mirror, wasn’t you anymore.

You inhaled deeply, cocking your head to the side a bit as you eyed yourself, the room now only filled with you, your bridesmaid giving you a moment alone while they got dressed before it was time for the ceremony. You tried so hard to feel something, anything other than what was filling your heart currently, which was the ugly, bitter feeling that had settled in months ago.

You didn’t even hear the knock at the door, and you probably wouldn’t have turned around at all if you didn’t hear the gentle jiggle of the doorknob paired with the creaking of the door. It made you turn around, only to see a familiar face peeking in.

“Can I um…is it alright if I come in?” Joel grumbled out softly, his hand covering his eyes as he stayed a small ways away from the door.

You gasped softly, grabbing two fistfuls of your dress and hiking it up a bit as you rushed towards the door. You tugged the man’s arm gently, pulling him into the room before you wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face to his chest, and inhaling deeply.

“You came…” you sighed softly against him, cuddling further into the man.

Joel chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close, one of his hands coming up and gently cradling your head, the man clearly afraid to ruin your perfectly styled hair.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kid…you know that” he hummed out before he pulled you away gently, either of his hands gripping your arms gently.

“Come on then…lemme get a good look at ya” His eyes twinkled as he smiled down at you, the crinkled up at the edges as he gave you a smile, a sense of pride radiating off of him and washing over you, just from the way he looked at you.

And for some reason, it made your chin wobble, and you felt your throat burn as he stared down at you, because it actually makes you feel something. Joel can’t be around you without reminding you of Ellie, the two so similar, so reminiscent of each other.

It makes you wish that Ellie was the one with you instead.

His eyes widen a bit as he watches your eyes well up with tears, and he gives you a gentle shake, paired with a reassuring smile.

“You’ll ruin that pretty makeup if you start cryin’ on me kid…can’t walk down the aisle like that” he smiled down at you.

You giggled softly at his words before you nodded, inhaling deeply as you tried to suck it up and fight back the tears, no matter how much his words twisted the knife that was already jabbed into your chest.

“Sorry…I just…didn’t expect you to be here” you breathed out softly before you began tugging him over to a small couch near a window in your room.

You let out a soft sigh as you looked out the big bay windows. It was almost like a sick joke, because you couldn’t have picked a more perfect day to get married. The sun was shining, the breeze was blowing, birds chirping, all of it looking too similarly to something out of a fucking fairytale.

Yet you were just so…unhappy.

“Is it stupid for me to ask if she came with you?” You mumbled softly, already knowing the answer to the question.

Deep down, you could only hope you were wrong. You hoped she was down there, sitting with all of your guests, an empty spot next to her for Joel. It would’ve been the perfect surprise, seeing here there, waiting for you, happy for you.

Joel let out a soft sigh as he eyed you for a moment before he hunched over a bit, resting his elbows on his thighs.

He saw it in your eyes the second he caught sight of you, just how much the lack of his daughter’s presence affected you, and how much your marriage affected her. It was almost stupid how oblivious you two were to it all, to the clear connection you had, opting to suffer in silence when all that would solve this is simply sitting down with one another and talking it over.

But he never wanted to pry on you and Ellie, he always banked on you two working it out eventually and realizing just how perfect you were for each other.

He lost that how when he had to hold his crying daughter after she received her wedding invitation from you.

“Ellie is….shes really not doing well right now…” he sighed out softly, the man trying his best to dance around what was truly going on with his daughter.

She begged him to never tell you about her condition.

You let out a gentle hum as you nodded, eyes still staring out of the window.

“She’s sick…she told me” you responded.

Joel raised his eyebrows at your words, confusion written over his face as he registered your response.

“Ellie…told you about what’s going on with her right now?” He questioned wearily.

If you knew, how on earth were you so nonchalant about the whole thing?

You let out a gentle as you nodded, finally turning your attention back to Joel.

“She told me she’s got a cold…I’m not sure how a regular cold is supposed to last though” you mumbled out, a bitter, sad edge to your words as they fell from your lips.

Joel let out another sigh before he brought his hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes. He knew he was going to regret what he was about to do, and although he promised Ellie he wouldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do this anymore.

He refused to sit back and watch you destroy each other.

“I…I gotta be honest with you, kid…there’s more to it than she’s lettin’ on..” he sighed out.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you watched him, suddenly eager for the man to continue speaking, you stayed quiet as you let him continue.

“She…she’s real sick….shes got some strange condition that…it….” Joel wasn’t sure how to say it, how to explain to you that you were the cause of his daughter being so ill, being so unhappy. How were you even supposed to explain that to someone? Telling them that the person closest to them has fallen ill because you don’t love them back?

You reached over to Joel, bending over a bit and grabbing his large, calloused hands in yours, forcing him to look at you.

Your eyes were desperate, shining with a sense of eagerness that Joel rarely saw in people.

“Joel…please” your voice was above a whisper, anticipating his words even more than you were your fucking wedding downstairs.

Joel frowned deeply as he watched you, wide eyes, desperate to know where Ellie was.

He couldn’t hide it from you anymore.

He swallowed thickly before he let out a sigh.

“She’s sick because you don’t love her…that’s why she’s been away, and it’s why she’s not here” he admitted, his words heavy with a sense of sadness that made your heart break.

And it’s like everything clicks all at once, and you hate yourself for being so fucking stupid, being so blind. Your eyes are welling up with tears, and you feel your throat closing up as you stare into Joel’s eyes, feeling as if the world had stopped, and the only thing that mattered in that very moment was getting to Ellie.

“Where is she” you deadpan, voice quivering as shiny tears threaten to spill out onto your cheeks.

“Listen…it won’t change anything. She’s already made up her mind about it the whole thing, just thought you deserved to know before she-“ you’re quit to cut him off, griping the man’s hands tighter, eyebrows furrowing as you practically beg him once more.

“Joel…where is she” From the way you’re looking at him, he knows you aren’t one to mess with. You aren’t going to drop it, not after what he’s told you.

He lets out a sigh of defeat, blinking his eyes a few times before he speaks.

“Shes about to go into surgery..they’re gonna try and fix her up” he mumbled out softly.

And you don’t even need to think twice, because you’re letting go of his hands, grabbing your phone, and making your way to the door of your dressing room.

Joel stands up when he sees you, realizing he’s made a mistake. You hear him calling out for you, trying to grab your arm.

“C’mon kid, where are you goin’. It’s your wedding day” he tried, his hand circled around your wrist as he tried pulling you back, bringing you back to earth from what you were feeling.

When you turn around, your eyes are twinkling with tears, and you stare at him in disbelief.

“My best friend is going into surgery because of me. I’m getting the fuck out of here” you breath out before you tug you arm from his grasp, and leave the room.

It’s almost like life begins to move in slow motion.

You don’t hear anything. The calls of your friends and family as your thinning down the halls of the wedding venue, your dress in hand as you focus on getting out as soon as fucking possible.

You don’t even hear the calls of your fiancé when you’re stepping out of the building.

Because all you can think about, is Ellie.

Your feet are carrying you out onto the road, immediately flagging down the first taxi cab you see and getting in. There are so many people running out behind you, standing outside of the venue and shouting at you, trying to figure out what’s happened, what they can do to help.

And you ignore every single one of them, and simply tell the driver to take you to the hospital as quickly as he can.

Running into the hospital is just the same. You don’t notice the strange stares from the people in the waiting room, or from the woman at the desk, you don’t even hear the little girl gasping when she sees you, urging her mother to look at the princess running through the hospital as she points at you.

You’re gasping for air when you reach the desk, palms pressing against the cool table as you stare down at the wide eyed woman.

“Ellie Williams. I need to find Ellie Williams” you breathe out.

The woman blinks a few times, staring up at you in disbelief before she quickly flips through some pages in the binder in front of her.

“I..um….may I ask your relation to the patient?” She stutters out, her eyes quickly shifting from the paper up to you.

“I’m her girlfriend” you blurt out without a second thought

The woman nods, looked back down at her paper before she looks towards her screen, clicking on her mouse before typing something in.

“She’s in room 404 but she-“ you mumble a quick thank you to the woman before you quickly tug your dress into your hands, rushing down the hallway as you ignore her calls for you.

Your eyes frantically shift from both walls as you search for the room number that’s front and center in your mind, running down hallways as you eagerly try to get to the room that Ellie’s in.

When you finally reach the hallway her room is in, you see a doctor walking out of the room you assume is hers, and before you can rush into Ellie’s room, he’s quickly stopping you.

“Woah woah…slow down there ma’am…where are you headed?” He asked gently, trying his best to calm you down. You could barely listen to him, or even register the words that he was saying to you, you just knew that you had to get to Ellie.

"My best friend...I need to see my best friend" You managed to get out between shallow breaths, your eyes shifting rapidly between him and the door behind him, yet every attempt you made at trying to get around the doctor to get to the door that Ellie was behind, he stopped.

Once the doctor finally took in your appearance, the big white wedding dress that you wore, tiny strands of hair falling from your hair, eyes wide and chest heaving..

He knew who you were immediately.

He gripped your shoulders, stopping you from getting around him, and forcing you to look up at him.

"She's fine...but before you go in there, you need to know a few things" He sighed out, already knowing that he would have to break the news to you.

The tone of his voice made you slow down, and it forced you to stare up at the stranger in front of you, because you knew deep down, he probably had all of the information that you could have possibly needed about your friend.

He explained your worst nightmare. He told you that Ellies surgery went well, and she was currently recovering. He and a team of other doctors has worked on her that morning...

She had scheduled her surgery for the day of your wedding.

The look on your face made the doctor sigh, because he had seen this far too many times. It was a case of love hitting someone too late, and in your case, you were the one that was late.

You were too fucking late.

"I need to warn you that...your friend won't be the same after she wakes up, not to you at least..it'll be like she barely even remembers you" He explained almost wearily, the man feeling the magnitude of your feelings, and the new lack of your friends.

But although you were late, you still had to be there for her.

You inhaled deeply, giving the doctor a silent nod before you grabbed your dress into your hands, lifted it up off the ground, and made your way to Ellie's door.

She looked like a fucking angel laying there, and it made you realize just how long it had been since you had seen her in person.

The sun was shining down on her face through her window, her lips slightly parted as tiny breaths escaped, her chest rising and falling slowly, it made you want to do nothing but crawl into bed with her and hold her, apologize for all the wasted time you had with her, and everything you wished you would have done right when you had the chance.

You moved to sit on the edge of her bed, your eyes already welling up with tears as you took her hand in yours. Your fingers traced over her tattoo gently, and for a split second, you felt her hand twitch, slightly holding yours back.

"Im so sorry, El..." you whispered out softly, tears blurring your vision, and falling down against the white bed sheets of the hospital bed.

"You didn't....you didn't deserve any of this....had I just...been there for you...and...and..." you hiccuped, your shoulders shaking as you cried to the unconscious girl, bringing her hand to your lips and pressing the softest kiss to it.

You looked up at her, watching as she slept so peacefully, unaware of the complete break down you were having a few inches away from her.

"You're gonna find someone who loves you so much...you deserve it more than anything..." You quietly promised her, pressing another soft kiss to her hand before you gently set it back onto her bed.

As you got up to leave, you looked down at your dress, a gentle scoff leaving your lips. You looked so fucking ridiculous, crying over your best friend who you would probably never see again, as a runaway fucking bride.

You felt pathetic.

You were a few feet away from the door, and you heard Ellie grumble softly in her sleep, the sound making your heart beat a bit faster, the sound of her voice making your insides flutter, just like she was always able to do.

"Maybe in another lifetime, it'll be our turn.." You whispered softly, giving a sad smile as tears continued streaming down your face.

You put your hand on the doorknob of her room, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you left her room, trying to control the violent, burning tears that wanted so badly to escape, to come out in screams and wails from your mouth.

If only you had known, that Ellie was mumbling your name in her sleep.

An entire year.

You don’t see Ellie…for an entire year.

After you left the hospital on the day you were supposed to get married, Joel called you. He told you everything you knew was true, but didn’t want to hear. He told you that your fiance was good for you, that you shouldn’t hold the guilt of what happened to Ellie because you didn’t know…

He also told you that it was best if you stayed away from Ellie.

The doctors advised it, something about her road to recovery. In that, meant that you had to stay away completely to ensure that the surgery had worked.

And god, was it the hardest thing you’d ever fucking done…

It’s ironic, but it only took you a day to realize just how in love you were with Ellie.

You went home and immediately packed your things, and in that, you found so many of Ellie’s things.

Flashes of memories between the two of you scattered before you, bringing it all back like a movie in your mind….

You found the bracelet she gave to you in high school, you don’t remember when you stopped wearing it. You found her hoodie that you wore so often, so she ended up just giving it to you, it was hard to remember when it went from being your favorite article of clothing to being stuffed at the bottom of your dresser. You found countless photos of the two of you, one of Ellie sitting between your legs on the floor as you tugged her hair back into a ponytail, laughing at something someone else was saying, another of you two at the beach, Ellie chasing you with a dead jellyfish she found washed up on the shore, a look of pure panic on your face, hers bright with laughter, and then there was your favorite…

A photo of you and Ellie on her couch, your face barely visible as you slept against her chest, her arm draped protectively around you as you both slept.

You cried until you couldn’t breathe that night.

It was hard, looking back at all of the memories you’d made with Ellie, hating yourself for never realizing just how big the Ellie shaped space in your heart was. It was like you were so busy chasing a fantasy, worried that you wouldn’t get the fairy tale ending that you’d dreamt about since you were a child…

You couldn’t see that the person for you was right by your side the entire time.

So? You left.

You went against every urge in your body that yearned for Ellie, yearned to be by her side in all of this, even if she didn’t see you the same way she used to, you cared about her, and you wanted nothing more than to be with her.

But you left, because you knew you’d caused enough pain to enough people.

Leaving was hard, but it was something you knew you had to do, for yourself, and for Ellie. You had packed up your things from your ex fiancés apartment after having a heart to heart with her. You didn’t deserve it at all, but she was understanding, far too understanding for someone who you’d left at the fucking alter.

You traveled, and took time to heal your soul, heal the person who had trouble seeing how much she was worth, and how much she deserved the love that someone was once willing to give.

And wishing on every single star, that someday, someone else might love you the way Ellie loved you.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let go of her, you couldn’t leave all of these loose ends untied.

Being in love was so fucking hard.

It’s exactly a year later, and you’re stood outside of the comic book store that Ellie works at.

Or, at least you hoped she still worked there, a lot could change in a year, you could only bank on the idea that she was still working at the dorky job a year later.

The thought makes you smile softly to yourself, thinking back to all the times you teased the girl for her love of comic books, watching as that manifested in her job years later when you two were adults.

You gripped the strap of your cross body bag, inhaling deeply as you stared up at the store as you stood on the city side walk, a gentle huff leaving your lips before you walked in.

The bell at the top of the door dings softly, and your eyes scan the store, barely giving the man behind the counter a nod as he welcomes you in.

It’s empty, music playing in the background, the smell of books and ink filling your nose as you looked around the colorful shop. It had been so long since you’d been there, often times showing up at Ellie’s job to harass her when you were close by, eager to bring her home with you the second she was off the clock.

“Um…can I help you?” The man asks softly, watching as your eyes scanned the room slowly, clearly looking for someone.

Your head turns in his direction, and you clear your throat as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, nodding as you walked over to him. You looked behind the counter as you spoke, barely interested in the man with the thick glasses.

“Yeah…uh…does Ellie still work here? Ellie Williams?” You ask gently, your eyes finally settling on the man.

He hums softly, rolling his eyes gently as he nods. “Should’ve guessed it, all the hot girls come in looking for her” he scoffed, jealously dripping from his tongue as he nodded his head towards one of the aisles of books more towards the back, his eyes drifting back down to the comic book he was reading.

“She’s already pretty occupied…gonna have to get in line” he mumbled softly.

And your heart almost fucking stops when you see her.

She’s leaned up against the aisle, you can only see her back, but you know it’s her. Her hair is shorter, and she seems to have put on a bit more muscle since you last saw her, she’s got more tattoos now too.

And there’s probably the prettiest fucking girl standing in front of her, twirling her hair between her fingers as she giggles at something Ellie’s saying.

You want to just fucking die right then and there.

Because all of this is a mistake, how could you ever think this would work? That Ellie wouldn’t be fine? Moved on and completely past what happened between you and her, she had surgery to get rid of her fucking feelings for you for gods sake.

You want to disappear, and pretend like none of this never happened and you didn’t even come out all this way in the first place.

“Fuck…I…um…thanks..” you mumble quickly, giving the man a gentle nod before you turn on your heels to leave.

You faintly hear someone emerge from the back, a loud, annoyed groan rumbling from their chest. “Williams! Quit flirting and get back to work” the mystery woman calls out, which earns an annoyed, ur exaggerated groan from Ellie.

“I am working! She was asking for-“ Ellie’s words are cut short when she catches your behind making it for the door.

Because no matter what, Ellie recognizes you.

You cringe when you hear her call out your name, your hand on the door handle. For a moment, you almost want to play it off, pretend like you didn’t hear her, or you aren’t the person she’s thinking of in the first place.

But the sound of your name falling from her lips is one you’ve wanted to hear for so fucking long.

Turning around and locking eyes with her nearly knocks the air right out of your chest, forcing you to take a deep inhale to hide the way your breath hitches. Her eyes are so fucking pretty, she’s so fucking pretty..

God, she always had been.

You give her a half smile, your fingers tugging at the strap of your bag as you give her a small wave.

“Hey, Ellie…” you breath out, watching as she walks towards you, nodding at your words.

“Been a long time…where you been?” She questions.

Her tone is too casual, and she’s looking right fucking through you. You’ve seen Ellie treat people like this before, that awful, polite demeanor she’d put on for strangers, or new people that you’d introduce her too. She doesn’t give you that shy smile that you love so much, the one you see right before her strong arms wrap around your body and pull you in close, her nose pressing against your neck and inhaling deeply.

You blink a few times, seemingly breaking yourself out of your trance as you stare up at her, clearing your throat as you nod.

“Yeah…works been pretty hectic” you mutter out sheepishly, to which she gives a nod, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Right…you’re um…a writer, right?” She squinted as she spoke, as if searching for a sliver of a memory that she had of you.

It makes you feel fucking sick, because there was once a time where Ellie knew everything about you.

You bit your bottom lip softly before you gave her a nod. “Yup…I am” you breathed out softly, hating the slow, awkward build up that came with talking to her now.

You simply stared up at her for a moment before you cleared your throat, flipping your bag open and shoving your hand, rummaging around in it before you finally got hold of the small envelope that you’d been hanging onto for far too long.

You stared down at the letter for a moment, inhaling deeply before you handed it to her.

“I just came to give this to you…” you explained, watching as the girl looked down at the paper with a confused expression before she took it from your hand.

When she took it, her fingers brushed against yours. You flinched when this happened, because you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your finger tips, Ellie must’ve felt it too, because she groaned softly before she brought her fingers to her lips, her tongue running over where it must’ve hurt.

You muttered a quick apology, yet she still stared down at the letter before she looked back at you.

“You came here to deliver…a letter? From who?” She questioned you.

You inhaled deeply before you nodded. “Just…read it whenever…okay?” You asked gently, eyeing the girl, needing to hear that she’d read it.

“Um…yeah…okay” she nodded slowly as she watched the letter closely before she pushed it into her back pocket, one of her hands coming up to scratch the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Was good seein’ you I guess…” she mumbled out.

Her awkward tone made you want to cringe, because you knew she got like this when she didn’t know what to say, or wanted the conversation to just end to she could get back to something she enjoyed more…

Probably that girl she was talking to.

You inhaled deeply before giving her a quick nod. “Right!…I’ll um…see you around” you smiled softly before giving her a small wave.

When you turned around to leave, you let out an exhale that felt as thought you had been holding it in from the moment you found out about Ellie’s condition, holding the weight on your shoulders with it.

You could only hope, that this final goodbye would give you both what you needed.

Contrary to what you might’ve thought, Ellie remembered most things from your friendship.

She remembers how you two met, she remembers most memories you have together, and she sure as hell remembers the way you used to make her feel…

But now she just…didn’t really feel any of it anymore.

It wasn’t like she woke up after having her surgery with zero recollection of you. She knew why she was there, and she knew what procedure she had done, but it was all just…different after she woke up. It was like the pain in her chest was gone, and the icky, hollow feeling she had when she thought about you had left completely. After Ellie got rid of the flowers in her lungs, her life was completely normal.

Almost completely normal.

Ellie had this nagging feeling, one that made her feel like she was always forgetting something, or leaving something behind. It would come and go, but when it was present, it would settle on her shoulders, and annoy her to no fucking end.

In all honesty? She chalked up that feeling to be the lingering memories she had of you that were slowly drifting away.

Every day, she forgot more things about you. They’d fall through the cracks so easily, like the memories that she used to hold so dearly to her heart were now so insignificant that there was no use in forgetting them.

Her doctor told her just to ignore them, for her own sake.

So? She carried on. Ellie was happy, there were barely any lingering thoughts of you, no pain in her heart or in her lungs. She could rest easy, and she felt she was forever indebted to her doctors for helping her through one of the toughest points in her entire life.

She was drawn to girls like you, though. She didn’t realize it at first, but they’d always have at least one thing that reminded her of you. One girl had your smile, another had your eyes, one even had a laugh that was nearly identical to yours, all of them making her heart jolt only for a second, her frown coming soon after she realized just why those girls evoked such strong emotions from her.

Seeing you at the comic book store was fucking weird, though.

It was like seeing an old friend from high school. You know? The ones you’re so close with, the ones you lay in bed with and plan futures together, your adolescent minds sure that nothing and no one could ever come between you two or the life you have planned together. And then you graduate, and as much as you try to keep in touch and make those dreams happen, the inevitable happens, and the person you once saw as your soulmate, turns into a stranger.

That’s what seeing you for the first time after her surgery is like.

And you looked so…different. She had almost forgotten your face completely, bur she knew for a fact you’d changed. Your hair was a bit longer, and you still had the same old red bag you loved so much, the one with a star on the front and rips on the side. You were still you..

But you weren’t at the same time.

There was something missing from your eyes, a certain glare, or shine…

A twinkle, that wasn’t there anymore.

It makes Ellie frown to herself when you turn around and leave. She couldn’t help herself from being awkward around you, because what are you even supposed to say to the person that forced you into having one of the worst conditions she’d ever had in her entire life? Hi? How are you?

She’d almost completely forgotten about the letter you gave her until she got home.

Ellie let out a gentle sigh, tugging off her headphones from her head, and tossing her denim jacket to the side. She was so fucking tired, and all she wanted to do was seep for the rest of the weekend.

She was in her bedroom, tugging off her loose jeans and tossing them into her laundry hamper. When she did that, she caught a sliver of the white paper peeking out from her back pocket, making her remember the interaction she had with you earlier that day.

Her hands outstretched to grab it from the hamper, a gentle hum leaving her lips as she moved to sit down on her bed, her eyes scanning over the paper carefully, a gentle confused frown on her lips.

When she opens it, she sees that there are a few things inside. She decides to focus on the letter that’s neatly folded up first.

Hey El

It’s been a year since I’ve seen you, and a year since a couple of other things…but I wanted to give this to you just for the sake of it. I’m not even sure if you remember me, or our friendship, I’m not sure how far the surgery goes, so there’s a few things in here that’ll help you remember if you’d like to, it’s up to you.

How are you? I hope you’re doing well, eating well, taking care of yourself and all that. I’ve talked to Joel a few times and he says you’re doing good, which is always great to hear.

Writing this, all I can think about is when we first met, I’d go as far as to say you had my heart from that point but I won’t, seems pretty pointless to say that now. It was almost like the world brought us together to fight the forces of evil or something, at least that’s how I looked at it when I was a kid.

I love you so much, Ellie. Even after all this time, my love never faded, not once, and it kills me to think you had to endure this for so long and I simply sat back and let it happen, let you suffer. I hope that if you haven’t found her yet, you’ll find a girl that can see what I couldn’t.

Maybe this letter is more for me than it is for you, and maybe I’m stupid for even doing this, but I feel it’s fitting as a final goodbye. It’s time I let you go, but I couldn’t do that without letting you know just how much you’ve impacted my life, and how you’ll do so for as long as I live.

If you read this, thanks. If you didn’t, I don’t blame you. Just wanted to let you know that I love you, El…always and forever

Ellie didn’t even realize her vision was becoming blurry as she read your letter, your handwriting so neat, so pretty, scribbling out such sad words. She could practically feel your sorrow seeping from the paper and into her heart.

Her throat burned, and if it wasn’t for her own tears sliding down her cheeks and falling onto the paper, she wouldn’t even have realized just how much reading it was affecting her.

She sniffled, eyes scanning over the paper once more before she gently set it to the side. She grabbed the envelope and looked inside.

Tucked inside of it, were a few photos. It was the ones you had found when you were packing up your apartment, the one of you and her at the beach, the one of you playing with her hair, and the one of you and her sleeping on the couch.

There’s one thing left in the envelope, and if all of the other things you put in wasn’t enough to make her cry, then this was…

It was the bracelet that Ellie had made you when you were kids.

Ellie could never forget about you, she could never forget about what you both went through and what you made her feel, but god was she close. She was so close to overcoming it all, and getting passed the phase where she still had any memories and feelings of you still at the forefront of her brain.

But the thought of it all just disappearing with you made an area of her heart deep so hard, it almost hurt.

It was an area that had laid dormant for so long, an area that had once been reserved for you. It was slowly becoming a gray space in her soul, something that no longer belonged to anyone.

Deep down she always knew it would always be reserved for you.

It’s like everything comes flooding back in, reminding her of just how much she felt for you, how strong her feelings were for you. It’s like she never even had the surgery, because she can suddenly feel everything return just as strong as before, if not stronger.

It’s all back, a swarm of feelings returning and settling right where they used to be, putting her right back in the position that she was in a year ago…

Only this time, there’s no pain.

The love has returned, but the nagging pain in her chest hasn’t. It feels pure, and the ugly feeling that she used to hold in her heart seems to have disappeared completely.

Because finally, Ellie’s love was reciprocated.

She can’t even think anything through, because suddenly she’s getting up off her bed. There aren’t many thoughts in her head, her own feet moving beneath her before she can form a coherent plan of what her next move is, what she wants to do with the feelings blooming in her heart, the ones that once laid dormant.

All Ellie knows, is that she needs to find you, and she needs to find you now.

When you were 19 years old, you told Ellie Williams you’d marry her one day.

The promise fell from your lips with a drunk giggle, barely aware of what it was that you were saying, barely aware of the fact that you were revealing one of your biggest secrets, pulling the curtains away and giving yourself bare to Ellie.

Although you didn’t remember telling her, marrying her was still a dream of yours.

And maybe you never said anything sober because you felt it was too out of reach. Maybe you kept it to yourself as a form of self sabotage, keeping your friendship with Ellie as safe as possible, because you treasured it, and her, and you didn’t want to ever lose her.

When you’re 22, when you ran away from your first wedding, white dress in hand, tears ruining your makeup, wanting nothing more than to be with your best friend, the girl who had your heart all this time, but you were use too stubborn to realize it.

It was one of the lowest moments for you, a time where you had to look back at all of your decisions, everything that had lead you to that point, wondering where you went wrong, why the hell you didn’t pay enough attention to your best friend to notice that she was suffering.

All because of you.

You felt like you didn’t deserve any second chances, and a year later, when you delivered the letter to her, you were ready to let it go, to let any and all dreams of being with Ellie disappear with you in the wind.

But now, you’re 25, and you’re getting ready to walk down the aisle to her.

Because the night that Ellie read your letter, she ran to you. She ran out of her apartment, to her car, and drove straight to where she hoped you were still living, all so that she could tell you to not leave, to tell you that you brought it back, all of her feelings resurfacing, bubbling to the top as if they’d been waiting to do so that entire time.

Doctors said it was a miracle, having never seen someone’s feeling so strong that they withstood the surgery, fighting against it all and coming back as if they’d never left.

Looking at yourself in the mirror for the second time, in a different dress, a different dressing room, a different engagement ring on your finger, almost felt surreal. You felt like you didn’t deserve it, like you didn’t deserve Ellie and the second chance that she had given you.

But there was no way in hell you’d run away, not again.

Not with Ellie.

And it’s just like the movies. Because as you’re walking down the aisle to her, it’s like no one is there, there’s no one in the room but you and her, and you can’t bring yourself to care about deserving it, or her, or a second chance.

Because you deserve love, both of you do.

You found it in each other.

And all of a sudden, you’re on your honeymoon with her. It’s a beautiful secluded island, the moon shining down on the calm beach, it looks almost identical to the night that you told Ellie you’d marry her.

You’re on top of her, your pussy slotted down onto hers as you make love to her on the beach.

Ellie’s eyes never leave yours, the moon shining down brightly into them, tattooed hands gripping your hips and ass tightly as she helped you grind down onto her sopping wet core, watching in awe as your tits bounced above her.

Your back arched as you threw your head back, a loud moan leaving your lips before you looked back down at your wife.

“L-love you so much, El….im…fuck…my pretty girl” you whined out, eyes never leaving hers.

She smirked softly as she watched you before a soft moan left her lips, giving you an encouraging nod. “Your girl…all yours…fuck…keep going baby, doing so good for me” she groaned out, her bottom lip tugging beneath her teeth as she bit down on the soft skin.

“All mine..” you whimpered out softly before you bent down, your chest pressing against hers as you captured her lips in a feverish kiss, filled with love and passion, enough so that it’s nearly enough to make you cry.

Ellie moans into your mouth, her tongue pushing in and rubbing against yours, her hips desperately jerking up to meet your movements, matching the way you rolled your hips against her.

When you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against hers, one of your hands reaching down and pulling hers from your hip, pressing it against the blanket that was laid out on the sand and interlocking it with yours.

“Wanna…wanna feel you cum with me…fuck…please” you practically begged, making Ellie nod quickly as she stared into your eyes.

“I’m close…fuck…I’m….i love you so fucking much…fuck” she gritted out, followed by a needy moan as she squeezed your hand.

The sound of your orgasms mixes in with the gentle waves of the ocean, like a harmony that’s purely made up of you, Ellie, and the earth. It’s beautiful, and you wish you had it on tape or something because it’s such beautiful sound of love that’s made from you and her.

When you both calm down, a blanket is tugged over your naked bodies as you both lay there on the beach, staring up at the sky. Ellie’s arms are wrapped around you, your head resting on her shoulder, legs tangled up in one another as you simply stare up at the stars, enjoying each others presence.

“You think anyone’s out there doing this same thing right now?” You asked softly, a gentle smile on your lips as you repeat the words that you’d said years ago, in the same situation that you were in now.

Ellie chuckles softly, a deep breath falling from her lips followed by a gentle hum.

“None like us baby….” She said, her words muffled as she pressed a kiss to your temple.

And she’s right, because none will ever love like you love each other.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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slightlypossessed · 21 days

Text

Synopsis – Steve let's someone take care of him, for once in his fucking life

Who? – Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

18+ content – MDNI // handjob, thigh riding, marking and kissing.

4.05k – 17 mins

words are lost on him

it's not that there are none coming to mind — they are, they're just not sticking: light flash-bangs that don't last enough to know if he's really seen or imagined them.

the words are too quick for him to grasp onto, nerve endings fried as they spark alight with every stroke of your hand.

The movements you so torturously inflict on him are gentle, yet cruel. ministrations calculated and precise to ensure the most damage to his mind and fragile, vulnerable, state as he lies bare beneath you.

Body bare and soul rested on a silver platter for you, laid prettily at your feat for you to take as much as your heart, and lust, desire.

"Baby..." his whisper is husky, voice wrecked and all scratching-on-metal as he tries not, but fails, to beg.

Cognitive dissonance is a killer thing, Steve decides as you give a particular rough tug to his straining cock, more so than he's realised now that he's in the deep cusps of it. On one hand he's trying to hold himself together, trying to be man — in his mind, he's made to please, to be a caretaker — it's why he puts up with the bloody kids that he knows will make his hair go gret by the time he's 32, it's why he's there after every argument max has with her father, every time dustin feels lonely, every time Lucas has a falling out with the rest of the boys — always there, an invisible hand on the back, guiding, cautious, caring.

And it's why it's typically the other way around with you two than it is now. Steve's gotten comfortable with the unintentional routine: you beneath him, mouth and sex hot as you beg and scratch while he wrecks you piece by piece. He's your boyfriend, he's yours, and it's his job to please you. He's gotta care for you, for your pleasure — because he's your man, and because he goddamn wants to.

But as his darned luck would have it, your hands feel too good on his cock for him to push you away: far too gentle to push him over, but determined to press all the delicate parts of him, your fingers deft and rubbing down the areas you know to be sensitive — just enough times with every stroke to keep him constantly on edge.

He's lost time, how long it's been: maybe five minutes? ten? fifteen? maybe just the one? a torturously slow minute of pure ecstatic and exhilirating agony? He's doesn't know, all he knows is that he's at your mercy to grant him what he most needs.

And right now he needs more of what you're giving, just – god, please, more – enough to quiet the voice in his head telling him he's failing... something. Your pleasure? His supposed boyfriend duty? he doesn't know, but he wants it quiet — you've already told him you want to take care of him.

However long it was ago, his brain is half-mush and he can't quite remember, you took in your arms mid make out session and told him you wanted him, your tone different than every other time you've said those words, your hold on him more tender and enveloping.

"let me take care of you," you'd whispered against his lips, your hands on his chest and steadily caressing lower, "please."

He couldn't say no to you then, can't say no to you ever — his sweet girl, whatever you want, you'd get — and he's decided then that he'll be most compliant for you, he'll relent underneath you as you take care of him, in whatever way you'd wished to do that.

and fuck, he wasn't prepared – doesn't think his brain has relaxed ever since you pushed him against the headboard and straddled his legs and fucking told him to just relax.

How can he? when the prettiest girl he's ever seen is on top of him looking so pretty with earnest eyes tracking every emotion and expression that passes over his face. You're so keen, attention completely tuned in on him.

Nerves firing blast rapidly, blinding white light behind his eyes, whether his eyes are closed or not.

He's not even sure anymore if they're open or closed, there's just glimpses of you, and he's not even sure if his short-circuiting brain is catching up a moment late, doesn't know if by the time he's caught to the beautiful sight of you as you stoke more heat in his belly, he might've already drifted in another mini ecstasy and closed his eyes again.

Fuck, he needs more — he's not sure he can handle it — so much going on in his brain, so much pleasure emitting from your soft hands on his hard cock, but he needs more. Maybe it'll quiet his mind, maybe it'll ramp up the frequency to a million, maybe he'll completely lose it and go insane by your hands — but he craves what you give.

"Please," his voice is foreign to his own ears, broken and pleading. If he were to really think about it, you haven't even done that much to warrant his half-wrecked state. But he's there, and he seems relenting to the idea of you completely breaking him.

Maybe the idea of you taking care of him has done more to him than he thought it would.

A low moan escapes his throat as his hand previously gripping the sheet moves to anchor itself to your hips.

"Fuck," another broken sound, "please, honey, more." He isn't sure more what, faster? harder? both? he just needs your hands on him and to forget all his thoughts before he even has them.

"shh," you soothe as your hand tightens around the tip of him– and by god, you're evil, a wicked little thing— you know he's most sensitive there, and if you'd had any doubts about that, they were now for sure quelled by the debauched moan that escapes his throat. "I've got you, sweetheart, just relax for me."

But he can't relax, oh god, what are you doing to him?

Evil, he's decided.

Heavenly, his heart argues, as you lean down to give him a saccharine kiss on his parted lips, your tongue swirling with his.

Deep down, you're aware that your torturous and slow pace over the last few minutes has built him yet kept him consistently at bay, kept him all achy and squirmy underneath you – all because of you, for you.

He whimpers quietly, the sound low and vulnerable against your lips, and you pull back to hear his sweet sounds better – and immediately he gifts you another desperate sound as he chases your lips.

Usually, hand jobs are quick business in your relationship. Quick things done in foreplay before Steve's putting his tongue on you and making you cum a few times as he gets hard again to fuck you – sometimes he's even pushing your hand off him before he cums, choosing to sink himself deep inside you instead.

But it's been on your mind for a while now, this urge to just take care of him. You're brain constantly wandering to how he'd look like, sound like, if lets himself loose and handed over the reigns of his pleasure to you. He's stretching himself too thin everyday — acting as a brother, a father and a friend to a group of 15-year-old kids united by other-worldly trauma. He's the perfect boyfriend 24/7, small gifts every now and then, dates every week, fucking you silly almost every night – and on top, he's got a full-time nine-to-five.

You want to do something for him, get his mind of off everything for a while. And maybe this opens the door for more later – it's not that Steve doesn't let you take charge often, but even then he's still very much a giver rather than a taker, and this time you want him to just take and be as selfish with you as he'd wish to for once.

And so you stroke him faster in your hand again, your grip tighter this time.

A low groan sounds from his throat when your hand squeezes him at the base. Electric shocks from the centre of him to his brain.

You can't deny him what you want, can't ignore his pleas for more pleasure, not when he's so pretty underneath you, face red and flush, and his hair a mess all over a place with a few strands down his forehead.

Beautiful, in every sense. Debauched facial expression: eyes heavy-lidded and mouth agape, heavy pants in and out.

So pretty, and so you really can't even think to deny him what he aches for. Your hand moves faster without meaning to, just wanting to see more of him in this state. He rewards you with another groan, his hand tightening on your waist.

faster and faster, the sudden change of pace makes his back arch of the headboard bringing his chest closer to yours and he can feel your hardened nipples from beneath your thin shirt. The feel of it makes him shudder and he feels the need to be closer to you.

He can't think to even lift hands to take the shirt you're wearing of you, feel you closer to his skin, his heart – but he can lean his face up towards you and hope you understand his polite request.

And you do, instantly, because you were already halfway down to laying another kiss on his soft, pink lips.

Your lips meet his, gentle and tender as you feel his soft lips between your own. Your hand moves even quicker now, your thumb pressing down on the on spot you know makes him keen — and his reaction is instant. His mouth opens mid-kiss as he moans unabashedly against your lips as you continue to press over that one spot over and over again.

He's going to go insane, by god, you're going to drive him to the crazy house, because the things you're doing to him are effectively frying his brain.

You leave his mouth, and choose to kiss his exposed neck instead.

He's welcoming of it; without meaning to, he tilts his head to give you more access to suck and bite all kinds of marks along his neck – and he'd wear them with pride, let everyone now how good his girl takes care of him, how good she makes him feel. Fuck, he just wants you all around him, your soft lips on his neck and hands on his cock. He can feel your thighs against his, your calves rubbing against his knees – with every brush of your skin against his the fire in his belly grows warmer, moving from his core and spreading to his chest, his head, his limbs – rendering him tingly all over and loose beneath you.

Your hand move down as you caress his balls in slow circles as your other hand moves to continue stroking his cock.

And Steve keens, whimpers uncontrolled rolling out of his lips. And you time your hand encircling and tightening against his taut balls as you bite down on his neck, your lips suck on the tender flesh of his neck, suck and bite on a tender point on his neck.

And Steve? fuck

Steve's mind goes blank.

No thoughts, no words, nothing.

Just pleasure.

White, hot, blinding pleasure.

He feels it deep within him, a feeling like hot, melted honey so visceral it moves along from his center to spread all over him in intense waves.

In a haze, he's aware his thighs have begun to shake, his sartorius muscle clenching and rippling underneath his skin as the feeling begs to claw out of bones and release.

He's keening, hot moans and whimpers flowing through his lips in a steady flow. You can feel the sounds before you hear them, your lips still pressed to the length of throat.

Both of his arms are now gripping your hips hard, urging you closer to him. He wants– no, needs you closer. There's some part kf him that feels like he can't handle anything else, that if you were to repeat the same movements you've just done, of you were to press down on that spot along his tip, he might just go insane. Maybe lose all cognitive ability as your constant infliction of pleasure fries his nerve endings.

But these thoughts don't last, nerves frayed and through barely able to keep grip as your hands continue to jerk him quick8and quicker, unaware of how intensely you've just wrecked him.

— it's quiet and yet he can't think.

"Please," a voice he doesn't even register as his own, "please, baby, I lov- fuck, love you —oh – fuck, oh, honey–"

He's not sure what words he's saying, not even sure if he's speaking or thinking them, but the desired effect comes anyway.

The precum on your fingers help keep your movements quick, and you continue to move your fingers up and down as your other hand massages his balls.

On one particularly hard jerk, his legs twitchs beneath you, resulting in his thigh rubbing hard against your center, brushing your clit the way you've been abstaining of doing for the past god knows how long now.

shit, you might just come from this slight touch. You hadn't even realised how hot and wet you've become over the duration of pleasuring your boyfriend.

He's always been so hot to you (to everyone really, if his reputation so implies), and one look from him would've been enough to have your underwear ruined.

But, god, he's given more than just a look. He's given you his pleasure, his bare form against yours – he's given you his moans and mewls, his vulnerability. He's given you full control over his body and his pleasure – hadn't even tried once to flip you over and switch roles (not that he'd even be able to with how week in the knees you've rendered him)

So, how can you not be all hot and bothered by this? by the lascivious site of him beneath you as he desperate and weak cries fill the room around you?

Without meaning to, your hips rock against his thighs, moving in tandem with the rhythm you've set with your hand against his cock.

The feel of your dripping centre against him weakens him further, his eyes closed and head burying in the pillow. To know that his pleasure affects you that much makes his cock twitch in your fingers, makes his heart swell with an affection that is so foreign to him.

He's felt it before with you, with his tongue on your center and fingers buried deep – he's cum many times as he ate you out, unable to control himself from letting go as your pretty sounds spurred him on.

But it feels weird for the script to flip, for his immense pleasure be reason for your own, even as you remain untouched above him.

Your lips move from one spot on his neck to the other, biting and sucking as you go, feeling the vibrations of his throat down to even your core as you steadily grind yourself back and forth along the thick expanse of his muscular thighs – feeling every bulge of his muscles, every twitch of his form against the folds of your pussy, the curve of your clitoris.

His voice gruff and broken as he whimpers for you.

And despite the oath you took to only focus on him tonight, you can't stop your hips from moving even faster, motivated by lewd noise he makes.

You are human after all, and the intimacy of the atmosphere around you can't be ignored. The sight of his heaving chest gone red from blush of pleasure tempts you to feel him against your skin – to feel more of him as you make him (and yourself) cum.

You can feel it now, the shift in the atmosphere as your fingers keep moving and your hips keep rocking – it's all coming to a crescendo.

Maybe when your done milking him till you're both reasonably satisfied, you'll kiss him stupid as he recovers and then ride him till he's coming inside of you — maybe he'll sound even prettier then, cock deep in your cunt as you bounce up and down the length of him. You'll kiss his pretty neck all over then, too, feel the whimpers as they form his throat and kiss his lips as he moans for you.

or maybe you'll let yourself go now, core molten against his thighs as he cums for you spurt after spurt.

You can already feel yourself growing weak and weightless with euphoria, filled with a fever-like weakness that pulls you lower and lower to the throes of passion.

Before you can register your movements, you're pulling your hands away from Steve and ripping his shirt that still on your body off you.

The moment of reprieve, or perhaps frustration, shocks Steve, and he mewls against your throat for more.

"so close, bab– oh god–" his pleas are cut short as your hands resume their earlier position, moving faster and harsher now, more determined to get him to his high before you lose it yourself.

Your thumb drags over his slit and down to his pleasure points, up and down gripping the base. Up and down and a squeeze to his balls. Faster, gentler, more – Steve can't think, can't hold it together anymore. It's too much, please, oh please– too much yet he needs more, needs that final push to euphoria. Needs it, fuck– wants it and can't take anymore.

You lean down to kiss him on the lips again, and your nipples bush against his chest – the feeling making you both keen against each other. The soft curve of your breasts rubs against the peaks of nipples. Each rock of your hips against his thigh moving your body against him, electrifying touches all over his body and your chest rubs against his.

You bite his lips as you kiss, taking his plush bottom lip between your own and awarding it a slight tug, before letting go and soothing his tender lips with your lips.

You pull back a moment to admire your handiwork. His lips are red and kiss-bruised. His eyes are heavy lidded and you can see the dreamy and half-present look in the crescents of his eyes. He pants against your lips and tilts his head upward to kiss your lips and intertwine your tongue with his own. You watch his eyes fully close before your own do and you kiss him back.

And it appears that Steve's torture has gotten the best of him, because beneath you his chest hitches as his back begins to arch the way it always does before he cums. The sounds escaping his throat and vibrating against your lips are sporadic and disjointed. He's less kissing you now, more letting you kiss and suck at his parted lips.

His muscle tense and twitch against you, and you know all you need to do is just give him a little more, an extra nudge, and he'll topple over.

Your thumb presses against his slit as you jerk him, and your other hand massages and circles his balls just a tad bit harder.

And Steve feels himself fall.

He's not sure if the sounds he hears are his own or yours — pitches and tones melting into one, sounds coming in and out of focus as his eyes roll back and his body breaks out into tremors.

The feeling is intense, hot and burning and too much, spreading from his cock to his guts to his chest and head.

Steve shakes beneath you, body vibrating as shot after shot of hot cum fills your fist and releases over your hands and onto the sheets.

His abdominal muscles twitch as you milk him for all he's worth, your hands continuing to move as he experiences his high. Your hips rock harder and harder against his thighs, clit brushing faster as your wetness soaks his thighs.

You only slow your hand when Steve begins to thrash beneath you, his silent scream turning to aching cries.

"Steve," you moan against his lips as you rock harder, electricity filling you as your head begins to buzz and your eyes roll.

"Fuck," his whisper is quiet and rough with use, "cum for me, baby, come on," his hands, despite weak with euphoria, grip your hips with all his might to help rock your hips faster against him. "cum, honey. I love you– come on."

Steve, despite barely able to even blink his eyes open or keep his head straight, moves a hand to the back of your head to bring you closer, granting you the same intimacy you'd given him for his own orgasm.

He pulls your face to his lips, biting your plush lips in the same manner you did to his lips moments prior.

Despite the fact that Steve's brain is so euphoria-riddled that everything he experiences feels as if through a haze, he's completely and acutely in tune to your pleasure – to the hitch in your throat as your whimpers grow breathier, to the jerk of your hips against him, to how you seem to burrow yourself closer to him as you approach your own high.

Desperate and nerves frazzled to meet your own high, your hand moves to your own centre.

You bow your back as you begin to circle your clit, using Steve's sticky cum to intensify the feeling.

As your hand moves, Steve pulls back from kissing your neck, tilting his head to watch you make yourself cum with his own spend.

"oh, steve– I love you, fuck, baby–gonna cum fo'you," your words are just ramblings, breathless and desperate as you near your high.

A whimper releases from his throat as he watches your fingers circle your clit – one, two, three tugs before your body tips forward, tremors and twitches racking through your body. Your front presses against your boyfriend's chest as soft, gentle pressure fills your core and your body, leaving you weightless and pliant in the aftermath.

Those gentle waves of euphoria render you speechless against Steve, your limbs are jelly as you melt against your lover.

If Steve wasn't so spent, if his head wasn't already far too high in the clouds of venus, he might've gotten hard all over again and fucked the mix of yours and his cum deeper into your cunt.

But that'll wait, maybe a few minutes, or an hour – maybe...

His eyes are already closing.

Bone-deep euphoria induced exhaustion pulls him deep into a restful slumber.

He'll clean you both up later. You know he'll repay the pleasure you've given him with a hundred acts of care and praise. But for now you'll let him pull you down again him, let him bask in the intoxicating feeling of intimacy that comes after your love making. He settles you close, his hips against your own as you lay over like a weighted blanket.

A soft, comforting, supple blanket.

His hands fumble next to him as he reaches for the tissue box on his bedside and hands you one to wipe your fingers, eyes still closed. The rest of you can be cleaned...later, in the shower, or with his tongue; he'll decide later.

Right now, he just needs you against him.

As a final act of love before he's out, his hand moves to the back of your head and kisses your lips one last time, slow and tender, and another against each eyelid, before coming back again to your lips.

"Steve..." you break the kiss to whisper against his lips, "you gotta let me take care of you often." your words barely even a slur. Despite your love-drunk state and sensitivity, you already know that you want a repeat of this night; of the gratifying feeling as you give your lover pleasure.

Before you can respond to his weak chuckle, you're both out like light, his arms wrapped tight against you as yours rest around his neck, keeping him close to you as you bask in the post-euphoria quiet intimacy.

Like it? >> Give this a go

A/N – wasn't really sure how to end this. It's been almost two years since I've written anything at all so it feels great to get back into it. Feel like I've forgotten how to describe things??? but oh well Feedback is always wanted and appreciated

Requests are open <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #fluff #love #smut #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst

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ellieslaces · 9 days

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KISSING LESSONS.

featuring: hazel callahan x fem!cheerleader!reader

synopsis: Hazel’s worst decision was to join her friend’s fight club, until she met you. or, really got to know you, she knew you, you just didn’t know her. she never thought a cheerleader, much less one of the prettiest girls in the school, would ever pay attention to her. until you did.

content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; internalized homophobia; light smut; kissing (wlw); so much loser lesbianism; some homophobic slang (faggot, munch)

notes: mentions of violence (duh, it’s lesbian fight club); mentions of reader being bisexual (more toward women tho); homophobic slang (faggot, munch, etc) ; there is no real smut in this as i do not write explicit content containing minors.

word count: 3.13k

chloe talks: watched bottoms and then hyperfixated on Hazel for two weeks before I decided to write this. God, I need her so bad. Chloe has a type doesn’t she? (soft mascs make me hhnngg). hazels so fucking cute I need her to kiss me ok bye. <3 (also, I hate the way this turned out, I’m so sorry it’s terrible)

now playing: kissing lessons ; lucy dacus

Fight Club — a popular 1990’s film, that’s all those two words had ever meant to you. You’d never even seen the film, you just knew it was fucking gay, despite it not actually being about the hot topic of homosexuality amongst young men (or women, in your case). But, I digress.

It had been your friends, Isabel and Brittany, who managed to get your ass to attend your school’s resident Fight Club. A women’s Fight Club. How fucking gay. Oh well, it would teach you how to defend yourself properly. Which, in this day and age — or any day and age of we’re honest — is horribly necessary.

It shouldn’t be, but knowing how to beat the shit out of a grown man is something you should know how to do. Self defense isn’t a topic to be taken lightly, and it seemed PJ and Josie knew this.

PJ and Josie — or faggot #1 and faggot #2 as the school knew more endearingly — where the school’s resident ‘ugly and untalented gays’, as Jeff and his little crew liked to say. Really, you suspected they were all just pissed because the girls knew their way around a pussy better than any of them did. They wouldn’t know the clit if it slapped them in the face.

It had been about two weeks into the girls’ club that Isabel and Britany attended for the first time. They showed up to cheer practice the following day with busted lips and bruised faces. At first, you hadn’t known what happened. Maybe Jeff’s dramatics had finally gotten the better of him. But no, they had willingly gotten beaten up for the sake of learning how to better throw a punch.

Finally, after hours upon hours of begging and pleading, Britany and Isabel got you to attend a meeting. You had walked in, nerves wrecking your body as you trailed unsurely behind the two girls you considered your best friends. You trusted them, they wouldn’t let something bad happen.

You had planned to spend your first meeting simply observing, but PJ tried so hard to convince you to join in. She almost even pushed you into the fucking ring. When you finally conceded, you were face to face with Hazel Callahan.

You knew of her, but you didn’t know her. You’d passed her a few times in the hall, you had a science class with her. Jeff said she was another one of those ‘loud mouth munches’ — to which you nearly punched him square in the nose had he not been Isabel��s boyfriend and a complete moron.

Hazel seemed nice, she’d smiled in your direction when you walked into the gym. It was a nice gesture, no matter the awkward air it held. You felt sort of bad for putting her in the situation she was in, even though it was PJ’s fault that she now had to fight you.

You stood awkwardly, fists raised in a defensive position, eyes on Hazel as she stood in front of you. She smiled again, still awkward as it had been when you walked in. You were set on not getting the shit beat out of you.

As soon as PJ’s whistle sounded, you barely gave Hazel a chance to move. She’d shifted on her feet, sending a spark of fear through you, causing you to send a punch straight to her face. You’d gasped, watching her face scrunch up as her own hands flew up to cup her nose.

“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, stepping forward, ignoring the claps and cheers falling obnoxiously from PJ’s lips.

Hazel let out a choked laugh, brows raised as she held her nose. “No uh, nice hit. Fuck, that was a good one.” She blinked rapidly, momentarily lowering her hands.

You let out a small squeak as you saw that her nose was indeed bleeding. “Shit, your nose.” You stepped forward again, trying to find something to stop the bleeding. But of course, there wasn’t anything you had on you.

“Alright, Hazel’s fine. Let’s move on.” PJ droned, giving her whistle another sharp blow — she really abused her whistle privileges, you thought as you ushered Hazel toward the bleachers.

Hazel gave a thumbs up — her hand covered in blood that dripped from her nose — as she walked toward the bleachers. No one seemed to notice other than you as you walked with her. You felt so bad, so terrible because now this girl was bleeding because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized again, sitting in front of her on the bleachers, looking frantically around for something to give her to stop the bleeding.

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Hazel shook her head, trying to convince you she was fine. Even though you both knew she wasn’t.

“Uh fuck, there isn’t anything — don’t do that.” You’d cut yourself off quick, voice deadpanned.

Hazel paused, her head half leaning backward as she looked over in your direction. Her ringed fingers pinched the bridge of her nose — it seemed she’d had the idea to lean her head back to stop the bleeding.

“Lean your head forward, not backward. If you go backwards, the blood could go into your lungs. Go forward and let it drip out.” You instructed, pulling her hand down gently by her wrist, moving to take off your cardigan so she could hold it below her face to catch the blood as it dripped.

“How do you know that?” Hazel questioned, brows pulled in a frown as she leaned her face forward so the blood could freely drip from her nose onto the bundle of fabric in her hands.

“I had to get a certificate to be able to babysit.” You shrugged, moving the strands of hair from her face without thinking about it. When you’d realized what you’d done, you froze, dropping your hand in embarrassment, muttering a sad ‘sorry’ again.

Hazel shook her head, not responding verbally to your millionth apology. Your cheeks warmed, suddenly so embarrassed for an entirely different reason. Not just for punching Hazel square in the nose, but you’d managed to embarrass yourself by noticing just how pretty she was.

Hazel sat on the bottom row of the bleachers in the gym, watching the rest of the group fight each other in turns, different girls winning. Some had busted lips, others a myriad of bruises spattered across their faces.

You took the time to notice just how pretty Hazel was — a sharp jawline that would make Jeff jealous, brunette hair that mussed in just the right way and looked so goddamn soft, her nose that was long and straight save for the small bump in the bridge that made your throat constrict. God, she really was a sight. How hadn’t you noticed sooner?

Maybe it was the fact that Hazel wasn’t in your social circle. You were a cheerleader, friends with Isabel and Britany, the focus of stares. Hazel was a loser — in the kindest and most endearing way — someone who wasn’t popular. Someone who had hardly any friends. And despite the fact that today was maybe the third time in your entire life you’d ever spoken to her, you wanted to be one of her friends.

A quick, sharp quip of PJ’s whistle brought you back to the present, her loud voice announcing the day’s session was over. You blinked, looking away from Hazel. Who somehow didn’t seem to notice you’d just spent the past five or so minutes just studying her face.

She turned to you, eyes apologetic as she held out your crumpled cardigan in her hands. “It’s really bloody, sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” you shook your head, holding out your hand. It was only after the words came out of your mouth that realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, it’s just, you don’t have to give it back. I don’t like it that much anyways. And it’ll probably stain. That sounds bad, I’m sorry.”

Hazel smiled a little at your words that seemed to stumble out of your mouth. You regretted every single one of them. You moved to take the cardigan anyway, acting as if you hadn’t told her to just keep it. But she pulled it back.

“I’ll wash it.” She said simply, standing. There were specks and smears of dried blood on and below her nose. You felt another pang of guilt then, seeing that your punch would definitely cause a bruise across her nose.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, standing as well. Isabel and Britany stood a few feet away, clearly waiting for you to come over. You didn’t want to though, for some reason.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting right?” Hazel asked, not relenting and continuing to hold the cardigan in her hands as she started to back away.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. You didn’t really want to come back. Not since you’d punched Hazel and made her bleed on your first meeting. But, maybe this would be a good incentive to come back. To see her.

“Cool,” Hazel grinned, nodding in your direction before she walked toward where PJ and Josie stood. You remained sentient for a moment, hands folded in front of your lap as you watched Hazel.

“Jesus, you hit hard.” Isabel’s voice rang in your ears as she and Britany approached, the latter’s eyes wide as she looked at your hand.

“Might want to wash your hands,” the girl motioned to your dominant hand — the knuckles were spotted in blood from where you’d punched Hazel and blood had immediately started to pour from her nose.

Your eyes latched onto the specks of blood on your knuckles, brows creased as you stared. Bright, rusty red adorned the skin of your knuckles, bits of Hazel Callahan’s DNA there. It was strange, but it made you smile.

The attendance of the fight club had steadily grown — girls coming to the gym after school to brush up on their combat skills. All in preparation for the upcoming football game against Huntington. The fear ever since one girl had gotten attacked by one of the boys and word had gotten around about it.

So, attendance had spiked, the ‘female solidarity’ — as PJ liked to call it — had risen in the school, even the girls were kinder and nicer to one another. And your mind was muddled with constant pictures and thoughts of Hazel Callahan.

It was confusing — you’d never felt such a strong connection to someone you hardly knew. Hazel was as much a mystery to you as the rest of the ‘ugly, untalented gays’. Meaning she was a huge fucking mystery. Sure, you were vaguely aware that her parents had divorced, and that the girl mostly kept in the background in school. But other than that, Hazel was purely mysterious to you. And you found yourself wanting to know more.

To remedy thhs, you continued to attend fight club, naturally. Yes, you shared a class or two with the girl, but nowhere else did you have the chance to actually interact with her. To converse with her, hear her voice, see her smile. God, what a loser you were.

It wasn’t until two weeks later that you’d come to realize how disgustingly and embarrassingly obvious your infatuation with Hazel was. And what made it worse — it was PJ who brought it to your attention.

“Yo!” PJ’s obnoxious voice rang through the gym as you stood in the circle with the rest of the girls, watching Silvia and Brittany spar, your name on the girl’s lips as she spoke. “Quick eye-fucking Hazel and pay attention! Huntington is like, two weeks away.”

Your cheeks flamed a bright red as you sunk into yourself, shoulders curling in. God, you wanted a chance at PJ in that ring to strangle the fuck out of her for that. Your eyes quickly cut over to where Hazel stood — her own cheeks dusted with light pink as she avoided your gaze.

Great, now she probably wouldn’t talk to you at all. Fuck PJ and her obnoxious, loud mouth. Your embarrassment was not short lived as the fight club went on. You couldn’t look in Hazel’s direction at all as you waited out the meeting until its end so you could retreat with your tail between your legs and never show your face in this gym again.

It was as you shouldered your backpack, heart still racing, stomach still uneasy with embarrassment that you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned, eyes going wide as you were face to face with Hazel. Your eyes trailed down to a bundle of fabric in her hands.

“Sorry it took so long, but uh, I got the blood out.” She held out what turned out to be your cardigan. The cardigan that you’d leant her two weeks ago when you’d punched her too hard.

“Um, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, offering a sheepish smile as she held out the cardigan. You gingerly took it, eyes locked on Hazel’s face. As you grabbed it, you swore you could feel a spark when your fingers brushed against hers. A fucking spark — cliche but true.

It was silent between you two for a moment before Hazel shook her head, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Sorry about PJ. Things kind of come out of her mouth without her brain processing first.”

Yikes, Hazel meant the ‘eye-fucking’ comment. You offered a small, horribly obvious chuckle. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

There was another long stretch of silence between you and Hazel, your lips pulled to the side as you held the folded — she’d fucking folded it, Jesus she was adorable — cardigan in your hands. It was strange, but not too uncomfortable. Like that stupid thing from Pulp Fiction, the right person is someone that silence isn’t awkward with.

“I wasn’t eye-fucking you.” You blurted. Great, you made it awkward again. A small groan fell from your lips, head dropping as you closed your eyes with a frown. You shook your head. “Sorry, I dunno what’s wrong with me today.”

“PJ’s just jealous.” Hazel offered with a small laugh. How could one solidarity laugh sound so beautiful?

“Of what?” You asked gingerly, looking up to meet her eyes. For some reason, you were weary of her answer.

“That you aren’t giving her attention. Besides, I don’t think she’d know what to do with your attention anyway, you’re so pretty.” She said it not as an insult to PJ — or at least it didn’t sound like it — but more as an obvious fact. And you were stunned because Hazel had just called you pretty.

You were at a loss. A true loss. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? So, like an idiot, you just stared at her blankly, eyes confused and wide.

Her own eyes went wide, brows furrowed as a worried look crossed her features. “Shit, was that too much? Too much. Fuck.” Her voice lowered as she cursed, brows knit together.

“No! Not too much, I just… I just didn’t think you thought I was pretty too.” You shrugged, quick to correct her. Quick to reassure that you were flattered and not weirded out.

“I mean yeah, of course I do.” Hazel nodded, her voice soft, words intentional like her statement was an obvious fact.

A smile spread across your face, cheeks warm again. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt so much about Hazel. You’d never had a crush on a girl before. It was new and strange, but you definitely thought this was a crush.

“Thanks.” You whispered, eyes darting down to the cardigan in your hands for a moment before going back to looking up at Hazel. “For the compliment, and bringing back my cardigan. You didn’t have to wash it.”

“It’s fine, I wanted to. It’s a nice cardigan.” Hazel shrugged. It seemed she was at a loss for what to say around you too.

The gym was near empty by now — Josie and PJ chattering away in the far corner, and Isabel and Brittany waiting for you (but not paying attention to anyone but themselves) by the gym doors a few feet away.

So, due to the empty state of the gym and the disgustingly thick tension between you and Hazel, you stepped forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to her cheek.

This took the girl by surprise. Her eyes went wide as your lips pressed to her soft cheek. You leaned back, her brows creased as she watched you.

“Thanks,” you said again, with a shrug. Letting her know that was your way of thanking her. Small, but meaningful to you.

It was a long moment that you stood there, Hazel staring at you with wide eyes. For a couple of long seconds, you thought you’d fucked up. Misread the situation, mistook the tension for something else. But, you were proven wrong as she leaned forward, closing the distance between you by pressing her mouth to yours.

“You’re welcome.” She murmured as she leaned back, your eyes wide now from processing that Hazel had just kissed. That you’d just had your first girl-kiss. Fucking scary, but nice. You liked it. Liked her.

“I’ve never done that.” You whispered, blinking rapidly to ground yourself. “With, with a girl, I mean.” You corrected yourself almost instantly.

You’d kissed a guy or two before. Sadly, your first ever kiss was Tim at the ninth grade freshman dance. He was a bad kisser and you hated it. But, you liked how Hazel kissed. Despite it being a quick peck, it was full of intention and it was gentle too.

Hazel shrugged, a small half smile forming on her lips. “Maybe I can give you lessons.”

You grinned, laughing a little as you nodded, backing away toward the gym doors, needing to escape before you said anything else stupid. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll send you my address.”

“Okay,” Hazel nodded, grinning widely to herself as you mentioned her coming over.

You almost skipped as you walked out of the gym, trailing behind Isabel and Brittany as the girls chittered away, the prospect that Hazel would be giving you fucking kissing lessons. You held the bundle of fabric close to your chest as you walked to your car. And it was then you noticed it smelled like Hazel. The detergent, obviously. But, there was something else that was just Hazel. And you never wanted it to go away. Maybe, you could wear it while she gave you kissing lessons that night.

2023 ©️ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 1 month

Text

Free Ride

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Free Ride Masterlist

Summary: Your taxi driver is surprisingly familiar.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Set in London, Jake is driving a black cab in my mind for some reason.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, kisses, awkward silences, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1161

You got into the cab quickly, the cold night air raking its nails over your skin. You pulled your coat a little higher and shivered.

The bar crawl hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Two of your friends had had to check out early, and a third had hooked up with someone they’d met while getting a round. You’d decided to call it a night.

“Hi,” you greeted the driver, about to give your address when you pause in surprise. “Steven?”

Jake freezes, watching your reflection in the rear view mirror.

“Steven Grant, you, you live on the floor above me.” You smile. “I didn’t realise you drove a cab?”

He swallows, raising his chin up in a nod, his mind racing. He’d left it far too long to deny it. “I… just, part time.” He spoke quietly, adding a croak to his voice to disguise the difference in accent.

“You okay?”

“Yeah… cold.” He tapped his throat, “so, erm, home?”

You nod, “yeah. Sorry you’re unwell, hope you feel better soon.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

You nod again, something about the energy in the cab seemed… odd. Different. You were on pretty good terms with Steven since he’d helped you out when you were lugging your shelves up the stairs (they were too wide for the lift.) You chatted when you ran into each other going out or coming back. Somehow you both usually ended up going to the local sainsbury’s at the same time for your weekly shop and had kind of settled into a not exactly planned routine where you would wait for each other and do it together.

Steven talked. A lot. In the best way possible. Excitedly and passionately. Bubbly and enthusiastic. He genuinely listened as well, asking follow up questions and nodding. But even when he was listening, he wasn’t quiet. Always adding in ‘hmms’ and ‘oh right’, and little snippets of commentary that warmed your heart.

Now he was quiet. Pulled in and zipped up.

Maybe it was just the cold making his throat hurt. You’d have to get him something to help, maybe tomorrow you could knock on with some ginger, lemon, and honey tea.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You stilt your head to the side as you watch him drive. He takes a turn smoothly, travelling down the late night roads without as much as a pause. Or a word.

It just didn’t make sense.

How unlike Steven he was being. You pause, for a second entertaining the idea that he wasn’t actually him. But that made no sense did it? He’d have to be an identical twin, and besides, he was talking you back to your flat. If he wasn't Steven, how would he know where you lived?

“I didn’t know you could drive?” You say, speaking up a little to try to hide the spike of nervousness that had settled in your gut. You had been so sure that he’d told you he couldn’t… though had that just been an excuse? A reason to tag along with you when you went food shopping? Was his quietness now embarrassment from being caught out?

“Hmm,” he nodded, glancing back at you again in the rear view mirror. “I don’t mention it… much.”

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick at your fingernails as he drums his hands against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change.

The silence stretches out, almost blanketing the low grumble of the engine. It’s sickening. Nerve wrecking.

“How’s work?” You blurt out, and then quickly clarify. “Both I mean, how’s driving going today and how’s the museum?” He glances back at you again, the action is starting to remind you of a priest in a confessional.

“It’s all… normal.”

“Normal?”

“Fine. Normal.”

You don’t speak again until he pulls up by the block of flats, putting on the handbrake and getting into neutral. He puts his hands on his lap, folded neatly with his palms facing upwards.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s on me.”

“Stev-”

He turns quickly, flicking off his seatbelt in a practised move so that he can twist his body fully around to face you.

For a moment you think he’s going to say something, reveal some grand secret but instead he pauses before giving you a very weak smile.

“It’s on me.” His voice is quiet, barely there at all. And, for the briefest second you could have sworn that his accent was different.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs politely, dismissing it as if it was nothing.

Before he can turn away you reach out for his shoulder, the action instinctive and leaving you lost for a reason why you did it.

He glances at your hand for a second before looking back to your face.

You lean forward. “Thank you.” You repeat softly, and slowly kiss his left cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away and rebuff you if he wanted to.

Instead he leans slightly into the touch, swallowing and turning his head towards you. His nose brushes against yours and you think he’s going to turn back to facing the wheel, but instead he presses his lips to yours hesitantly.

You squeeze his arm, surprised but responsive as you kiss him back.

He kisses you slowly, but intentionally. Swiping the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip before opening your mouth with his own and licking inside. He groans, low in his chest as the kiss becomes hungrier, boarding on desperation as he presses as close to you as he physically can in his position.

When suddenly he pulls back, blinking heavily. A mumbled, ‘sorry’, just escaping his lips.

“It’s okay.” Your voice is quiet too, your mind only just catching up with what happened.

He turns back, putting his seatbelt on with a click and staring straight ahead. “Have a good night.”

“I, erm, I’ll see you later.” You mutter as you get out, feeling almost shaky from what just happened. Your thoughts reeling.

You get up to your flat in a daze. You’d kissed him, well, he’d kissed you. Did that mean anything? Had you done something to chase him off?

You change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror.

There’s a soft knock at your front door and you freeze. Wait.

Maybe it’s a neighbor's door. Maybe it’s noise from another flat.

There’s a knock again, still soft and your phone buzzes. A message from Steven, ‘can we talk?’

Fuck.

You head to the door, checking the peep hole and confirming that yes, it is Steven outside your door. You unlock and open it quickly.

“Steven, I-”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before he moves forward quickly and kisses you deeply. His hands settle on your hip, the back of your neck as he walks you further inside and kicks the door shut with the heel of his foot.

____________________________________________

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theblueflower05 · 1 year

Text

The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he’s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

#neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #avatar neteyam #aged up neteyam #neteyam x you #avatar smut

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