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fleshbride · 7 months

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PRESENTING . . . AIN’T NUN BUT A HOOCHIE MAMA!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ TOJI FUSHIGURO X F!BLK!HOOCHIE READER

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ CW: black fem reader; reader is 26, toji is 34; reader is on the thicker side; usage of the word nigga a few times; smut; breeding kink, hair pulling, dumbification, overstimulation, pussy slapping, impact play, messy pussy eatin’, size kink, hints of sado-masochism, a bit of brat taming, manhandling, praise & degradation, multiple orgasms, cervix fucking, choking, squirting; fwb-ish to lovers (?); pet names are used, such as mama, baby, pretty girl, dollface, princess & sweetheart; reader has a kid of her own; reader is a hoochie, meaning she’s seen as ‘ghetto’ but in a very pro-black & attractive way; reader has a mature body, pudge, cellulite, stretch marks; reader accidentally flashes toji; reader & toji share a blunt; toji is actually a good dad in this!

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ wc: 7.5k

⭒ ݁ . ໒꒱ this is actually pure filth. this was my first time writing for toji EVER and actually my longest work. guys when i tell you i put some shit into this thing, idk what i did but i SNAPPED. HARD. i hope you guys enjoy this nasty thing that came from my imagination. not proof read or anything so pls excuse my typos!

sometimes, your job could be a godsend. who knew that a simple job at the local hair store would catapult you into meeting one of the sexiest men you’d ever seen?

to be completely honest, it wasn’t solely your job that sparked such an interaction. it was moreso you; you possessed an irresistible, unmistakable charm that was impossible to ignore. your voice, soft as a lullaby, held a dulcet quality that drew people in like a magnet. anytime you opened your mouth to speak, you commanded attention effortlessly, as if your words held some mystical power that captivated any listener.

everyone was always drawn to you, and it wasn't hard to see why. who in their right mind wouldn’t be smitten? you were a vision of beauty, with your radiant brown skin that seemed to glow as if illuminated from within. your smile, perfect and white, could light up even the darkest room, making hearts skip a beat. your eyes were another story altogether. they seemed to sparkle, glimmering with an intensity that was all yours.

your hair was always done, you always made sure that you had a fresh set of lashes. to add, you never forgot to apply your clear lip gloss. now, this wasn't just any gloss, it was your signature, lip gloss added a radiant shine and highlighted the natural beauty of your plump and full lips. your lips, always so perfectly glossed, assumed an irresistible charm that made them look especially appetizing.

to add onto it, your personality was in tip top shape, matching your looks. while sometimes your mouth could get a little reckless, you had an air of kindness, professionalism and just genuine good vibes. it was hard to dislike you, no matter the case. you were a woman of wonders.

you loved your job at the hair store too; maybe that was why your attitude was always good while you were there. it paid well, the hours were flexible and it was something you enjoyed. you loved how your manager let you pick out the wigs and the outfits that would be displayed, and sometimes she let you take home left over makeup and jewelry — which was how you got your favorite set of hoop earrings.

working at the hair store also granted you all types of experiences. sometimes you met upcoming make-up artists and beauticians, hair dressers, nail techs, lash techs — you always made sure to be extra helpful and friendly to everyone you met, just in case they could ever help you.

or… on the rare occasion, you met men. often, they were coming in for their wives, daughters, sisters, nieces, friends — and each time, they were clueless. of course, you helped, breezing past them with the smell of bubblegum and perfume, preferably daisy by marc jacobs.

today was no different.

you were the only one working in the store this saturday, and it was roughly around 12 in the afternoon. the sound of needed me by rihanna echoed through the store, giving it a nice ambiance. you clocked in at 9, and were scheduled to get off at 4 — you had a bit of a long day ahead. however, the store had been a bit slow today. not many customers entered; maybe three every hour, compared to a usual 7-15 people per hour. you were both grateful and a bit sad for the lack of people, as it left you with extra time on your hands.

instead, you found yourself thinking of your six year old daughter at home. alaina, your sweet girl, who was at her grandmother’s for the day. you fondly rubbed the bead bracelet she made for you, that spelled out mommy. your daughter was the most loving child you knew, and you adored her with every part of you.

as you gazed at your bracelet, you let out a soft hum. you’d have to get her another one from here, even though she already had a plethora. whatever you got from the hair store, you usually shared with alaina.

the entrance bell dinging had you snapping out of your thoughts of your daughter, turning your head to greet whoever entered. your boxbraids slid down your back as you looked. it was a little girl who entered, no more than nine. she was in a cute blue dress, with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail. her cheeks were rosy, which had you cooing at her mentally.

“hi baby,” you called out to her, looking behind her for a parent, “where’s ya mama, hm? a lil’ one like you shouldn’t be walking around all alone.” the girl hadn’t noticed you, and jumped when you called to her. she put her hands up, waving them enthusiastically. “o-oh no, miss, i’m with my dad! he’s just getting his wallet. do you know where the nails are? and the makeup?”

you smiled at the little girl, stepping from behind the counter. you were in a beige sun dress, with some matching wedged sandals. the sundress was long, coming down to your ankles, but there was a slit on the side. it hugged your curves nicely, even though your little bit of pudge was much noticeable; you didn’t care. to be honest, the dress covered way more than your usual outfits, especially in the summer like this. you had never been scared to show your body, even after you had alaina and people insisted on you covering up; because you were a mother now. however, you didn’t give a fuck. if you wanted to wear your shortest shorts, you would.

“c’mere baby girl, it’s this way.” you offered the young girl your hand, which she took happily as you led her. “i’m assuming you’re looking for the press ons, right? not the ones you glue?”

the girl gave you an enthusiastic nod. “yes, ma’am!” she was polite, you noted, with a curl of your lips. her father must be raising her right. “my dad says i’m not big enough to ruin my nails with glue..”

you let out a laugh as you squeezed the girl’s hand. “your daddy’s right,” you mused, “stick to the ones you can press til you become a teenager.” you brought her to the kiddie nails, and stood with her while she made her pick.

the young girl seemed stuck between a pair of pink ones leopard print ones, and blue zebra print ones. “what do you think, miss? i can’t choose.”

you only gave the girl a shrug. “i say get both. let ya daddy worry, not you.” however, because you liked this little girl, you’d only charge her for one anyways. the girl nodded in agreement, giving you a giggle, which you quickly reciprocated.

all of a sudden, you heard the gruff call of, “tsumiki! where have you ran off to?” the girl perked up immediately, and ran to the end of the aisle. “dad! i’m over here!” she called, waiting patiently for him to come over.

you raised your eyebrow as you made your way over. you were a bit curious to see the man who had raised such a sweet and polite girl. as you reached the end, your eyes widened as they set on the man.

he was tall, unbelievably so. his towering stature, reaching at least 6’2, must’ve made him stand out in any crowd. his body was muscular, brawny and well-built, and t he black compression shirt he wore clung to his chiseled frame, accentuating the broadness of his shoulders. his hair, a deep black, was just a bit shaggy — the perfect length to frame his strikingly sharp face.

his eyes were a vivid green, so piercing that they could make anyone feel as if they were the only person in the world. they locked onto you and tsumiki. his attractiveness was lethal, and it was impossible not to notice the way he looked over you. his gaze was slow, lingering, and purposeful, almost as if he wanted to make sure you noticed his attention.

you would’ve been phased if you were a different woman; but you weren’t. instead, you gave him your trademark smile, looking up at him with a warm aura.

a scar sat on the corner of his lip. it twitched slightly as his lips curled into a smirk, making him look even more attractive to you then he already did.

“you work here?” came his deep, rough voice. it provoked goosebumps down your skin, but you didn’t allow yourself to show it.

“yup,” you answered, “sorry i wasn’t at the counter, i was helpin’ miss thing here pick out some new nails.” you watched toji’s mouth open, and held up a finger, “and yea, before you ask — it’s the press ons. no glue needed.” the man let out a hum and gave a nod of approval.

“good. tsumiki, go put those on the counter and if you want anything else, ya better pick before i get back up there.” he told her; his voice was rough, yet still somehow sounded caring. when tsumiki scampered away with an, “okayyy!”, he turned his vision back to you.

the once over he gave you earlier didn’t seem to be enough. he gave you another; from your champagne blond knotless boxbraids which were long and down your back, curving over the swell of your ass, down to your painted white toes in your sandals. shit. you were fucking hot.

“how old are you?” he asked boldly, not wasting a second.

you raised an eyebrow, “you ain’t ever heard it ain’t good to ask a lady her age?”

“so old enough,” he countered back with a smug smirk. “have you been able to drink legally for at least two years?” still asking your age without pointedly asking like before.

“i’ve been old enough to drink legally for five years,” you relented, “so like i said, old enough. why you askin’?”

“i like to know the ages of my women before i hit on ‘em.”

you grinned. you already knew you were going to like this man, and his attitude towards you solidified that. “and i like to know the age of my men before i let them,” you combatted.

“thirty-four,” he answered immediately, and the corner of your lips pulled up in satisfaction. twenty-six and thirty-four. not a bad age gap, only eight years. you could manage.

“you allowed to hit on me now,” you said playfully as you slid past him, “don’t make the shit corny, ‘cause i’ll laugh at yo ass.” maybe that’s his plan, you thought, him tryna laugh me out my panties.

the man let out a bark of a laugh, following after you. you could almost feel his eyes locked on you as your hips swayed while you walked. he only chuckled out, “oh, don’t worry about that.”

you went back behind the counter, ready to pay for their things. tsumiki had thrown a stack of bracelets on the counter, and a new tube of sparkly pink lip gloss to which you scanned and then only scanned a pack of the nails. her father raised an eyebrow at you, but you pretended not to notice. “that’ll be 18.75,” you informed. her father pulled out thirty dollars and slid it to you. as you prepared to give him the change, he shook his head.

“don’t need the change. consider it a tip or somethin’.” you furrowed your brows at him, but didn’t question the customer. instead, you handed them their things with a sweet smile. “bye, lil’ missy,” you told tsumiki, before looking up at the man, “come back soon.” your voice was low, and quite flirtatious. he gave you a smirk.

“oh, i will.”

and he did.

it was three days later when he finally came back. you were leaned over the counter, examining your new nails. it was hot, too hot to even be working. the doors were open, and the AC’s were blasting, trying to cool off the store. you wore a jean miniskirt, with a fat gucci belt on your hips. you paired it with a cropped pink tank top that had a deep v-neck, showing off a bit of your cleavage. your golden nameplate sat perfectly on the apex of your breasts. today on your feet instead of sandals were your pair of pink and white dunks. you had taken out your box braids, and gotten your hair done the same day you got your nails done.

now, you had gotten a lace front installed — and you looked good as fuck. it was a deep shade of vibrant purple, down your back. you had added your own spin, doing one of those heart shaped parts and gelling it down the side of your forehead, and doing edges on the side.

as someone entered, you turned your head to the side to greet them. “good afternoon,” you said cheerfully, looking at the woman who entered. she was dark skinned, with a bumped bob. her makeup was done sharply. you watched as she side eyed you, and muttered out a terse, “hello.”

immediately your eyebrows furrowed. “bitches got an attitude, okay,” you grumbled under your breath as she disappeared into the aisles. it was a few minutes later when she came to the register with a flat iron. off the rip, you told her, “oh mama, you don’t want this one. a few people who purchased this one have said that it heat up too quick and smoke a lot, then breaks. so go ‘head and get another one.”

the woman glared at you, looking you up and down. “excuse me, i didn’t ask for your opinion on what i’m buying. and if it’s so faulty, why haven’t you taken it off the shelves?”

her attitude immediately had you tilting your head, trying your best to bite your tongue. “ma’am, that ain’t my job, i don’t do merchandise, i work at the register.”

she rolled her eyes at you, before snapping out, “then don’t say anything about said merchandise.”

your next words came out before you could even think about it, “ho, i’m tryna help you not burn this crispy fuck ass bob off but okay.” upon realizing what you said, you didn’t apologize nor change. instead you cocked your head, tilting it, while staring at her blankly.

“excuse me?” the woman asked, “honestly, i don’t think i’m taking hair advice from a woman who don’t wear hers natural, and has her skirt digging up her ass. how old are you? you have to have a child at home, dress with more fucking class before you talk about me,” the woman’s face was twisted as she snapped at you.

“i know damn fuckin’ well,” you said slowly — and just like that, you knew you were about to cuss her ass out. “i know DAMN fucking well that you’re not talking to me like that. bitch, are you mad that your ass built like a fuckin’ square? bitch be mad then cause that’s why yo ass slope like y=mx+b. bitch, don’t you EVER question my fashion choices when you’re wearing leather in 87 degree weather. you fuckin’ cereal box built ass bitch, you know what, i got a trick for you—“ you quickly took the flat iron from her and pointed a nail at the door. “now get the fuck out, bitch you’re banned.” the woman opened her mouth to retort, but you were faster, talking over her, “bitch, i don’t give a FUCK. get the fuck out.”

the woman mumbled a, “ghetto bitch.” before storming out the store while you massaged your temples. it was nothing you hadn’t heard though. “fuck be wrong with bitches. man, i need a fucking BLUNT.”

“personally, i would’ve hopped over the counter.”

you looked up at the familiar voice, seeing the man you met the other day. immediately, a grin spread across your face. “look who came back.”

“told ‘ya that i would.” he mused, walking up to the counter, “you should’ve thrown the flat iron at her face. i would’ve paid money to see that.” he wore a white wifebeater and black basketball shorts. did he just come from the gym or something? the lack of clothing allowed you to see just about all of his muscles, and god, were you pleased.

you snorted, giving him a playful eyeroll. “shit, i was fuckin’ thinking about it. you saw the whole thing?” the mystery man, who you decided to dub mr. man, gave you a nod. “positively. you cleaned her so beautifully, and i have to add, you look so, so appealing when you’re angry.”

“shut up, nigga,” you laughed as you put your elbows on the counter, cupping your face with both hands. “what’re you here for?” you looked up at him, and he mimicked your action, fitting his fat ass arms on the counter.

“i need some hair gel for my son. he’s in this spiky phase, shit, i don’t know,” mr. man rolled his eyes a little bit, before adding, “and i don’t know which to pick. as you can clearly see, i don’t use gel.”

you let out another laugh, coming from behind the counter. “yeah, c’mon mr. man, i’ll show you which to use.” off the rip, you noticed how his eyes locked on your body.

yeah, i got it like that, nigga, your inner thoughts said as you internally hyped yourself up.

“mr.man?” he questioned from behind you, his eyes focused on the way your hips swayed, and the way a little bit of your ass was uncovered by the skirt.

“well, you never told me your name, so i gave you a nickname.”

he snorted a little before saying, “well, my name’s toji, for one.” you thought about it for a second for a second. was that a moanable name? you went through it in your head. yeah. definitely moanable.

“my name y/n,” you finally disclosed, “but everybody just call me n/n.” toji nodded a little. “n/n… that’s cute.” you noticed one of the items had fallen off the shelf, and without hesitation, you bent over to pick it up, completely forgetting about the fact that you were wearing a skirt, and the man behind you.

toji almost had a fucking heart attack. his eyes zoomed in onto your now slightly revealed ass, your sheer red panties that showed the plush outline of your pussy. shit. shit. it was over in a second, much to his mixed chagrin and gratefulness. however, he wasn’t some boy — he maintained a straight face and control. you placed the item back on the shelf and resumed walking.

“alright,” you said, as you reached the gels, “see, here’s what i use for my daughter,” you held up a jar of eco. “eco holds good for her, and it lasts long, to be honest. her hair is a bit thicker. and it doesn’t have like color residue like prostyle gel.” you grabbed the black container of prostyle gel. “but if your son has like brown-black hair, it’ll be good.” toji shook his head, saying, “nah, he has that weird bluish-black.” you tutted and put the prostyle down.

“there’s also gorilla snot gel, which i recommend if his hair is straighter, you feel me?” you held up the yellow bottle of gorilla snot.

toji looked at both and let out a short groan. “i can’t decide. i’ll take ‘em both and see which works better.” you shrugged and passed them to him. you took note of how positively huge his hands were. they could probably cover your whole face. or… your entire ass.

“i didn’t know you had a little runt too,” he made conversation with you as you walked back to the counter, “i forgot you’re almost 30.”

“yeah i forget too, trust,” you laughed a little, “my little girl’s my pride and joy, her name’s alaina. she’ll be starting first grade this year, i’m so proud of her. i actually got pictures.” you pulled out your phone and showed him your lockscreen which was the two of you. toji chuckled.

“y’all look alike, cute,” he commented, “my son’s seven, and tsumiki’s eight. you met her last time.” you fondly recalled your encounter with the polite young girl. “you a single parent, too?”

you gave him a nod, and a shrug. “alaina’s daddy claimed he wanted nothing to do with her, so i kept it like that. then his stupid ass got locked up, thank riddance.” toji let out a short laugh. “tsumiki’s mom was my first wife, and we divorced. megumi, my son, his mom was my second. unfortunately, she passed.”

“aw,” you said, pouting sadly and placing a hand on his large arm. “i’m so sorry for your loss, sweetheart. i hope you’re doing alright.”

toji laughed a little. “i’m fine, pretty mama, don’t worry about me.”

you bristled at the new nickname, giving toji a wicked grin. “that’s how you referring to me now?” you asked, as you slid behind the counter to the register.

“you’re pretty, and you’re a mama,” toji said with a shrug. “it honestly only fits.” you very pointedly made sure to check him out and said, “mmhmm..”

as you rung him up, toji said, “does alaina need any new friends? my son’s a bit shy and doesn’t talk to nobody but his sister… maybe they could have a few play dates?”

“yeah, i’d love that!” you answered, a genuine smile coming onto your face. anything referring to your daughter made you happiest. “your total is 14.95. here i’ll give you my number...” as toji paid, you rang it up. on his receipt, you wrote your number and passed it to him.

toji grinned and gave you a nod. “see you around.” you wiggled your fingers in return.

see him around, you did. you and toji were quick to hook up play dates whenever your schedules aligned. you became familiar with the routine of getting off work in the afternoons and scooping alaina’s to head to toji’s to play with her two new best friends.

you and toji often stayed downstairs, while they played in tsumiki’s room. you and toji would watch movies, roll blunts and eat food — or sometimes even play texas hold ‘em, in which you won every single time.

toji would grumble, and accuse you of cheating, when in truth, he was really just a bad gambler, but all was well. you considered toji a good friend… of sorts.

because that’s what you two were; friends. friends who sometimes flirted a little; you considered toji a friend when you’d bend over to pick things up in those skimpy jean shorts you wore; toji considered you a friend when he’d slide past you, pressing his crotch against the curve of your ass and muttering a, “excuse me, n/n,”; you considered toji a friend when you’d play sexyyred and say the lyrics a little too… forceful; and he considered you a friend when he’d make slick little sexy comments about your body before adding, “that’s just what other guys think.”

safe to say… there was a bit of tension between you two. and finally, it came to a crescendo.

it was normal, at first. like usual, you and alaina were at toji's house. it was around 9:30pm, and the kids had collapsed after playing all damn day and finally having a meal of chicken nuggets. you remembered the look on your face discovered them. they were heaped in the large bed; tsumiki had more than enough room for all three of them, yet they were together. alaina was draped over megumi and tsumiki, her face in megumi’s chest but her body pressed to tsumiki’s. they were all tangled up, limbs skewed and whatnot.

and now, you and toji were together downstairs, toji watching as your nimble fingers crafted the blunt — his were too fat. your feet were in his lap, and he was watching you with those bright green eyes. as you rolled, you were mumbling one of sexyy’s songs. “fuck me like you mad at me, baby.. i need that dick to drive me crazyyyyy…” you sang under your breath.

toji raised an eyebrow at you, “the music you listen to has some really… meaningful words.” as you licked at the blunt, you let out a laugh. “i agree with everything she say. when suki said that if you ain’t eating coochie, you ain’t fucking, i felt that one.”

finally, you perfected it and grabbed toji’s lighter. “you only fuck eaters?” he said, amusement trickling through his voice. you lit the blunt and took a deep inhale, masterfully blowing it up into your nose and then out again before passing it to him. “yup. only fuck eaters ‘cause they do it the best. you an eater, toji?” you asked pointedly, watching as one of his rough hands drew circles on your leg, then up to your knee, while the other lifted the blunt to his lips. he took an inhale, then another. god, you hated double hitters, but it was okay — it was only you two.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” toji shot back, his trademark smirk sliding across his face. his lip twitched, scar jumping.

“that’s why the fuck i asked you, toji,” you clapped back immediately, making the older man squeeze your leg while passing the blunt back. “watch your mouth, n/n. don’t get fucked up.”

“or what?” you immediately retort, holding the blunt up to your lips as you took another puff. “you not gon’ do shit to me, toji, like i honestly wish you w—“ your words were halted by the man throwing your legs off his lap, one hand going to spread them roughly as he pressed his fingers against your clothed cunt.

“i’m not gonna do shit?” he repeated, as your eyes went wide; he had obviously startled you, but you weren’t opposed to this one bit. as his fingers rubbed at your pussy through your shorts, you shook your head feverently again, looking at him as you held the blunt to your glossed lips. “not a damn thing.”

when all toji did was nod, you were sure you were in for it. and you were. he was quicker than you, grabbing your hand that held the blunt and quickly forcing you to put the blunt in the ashtray. the smoke you were holding in your mouth was forcefully removed as toji roughly pressed his lips to yours, the smoke being shared between you two as he pried your lips apart.

the next few minutes were coated in a needy haze. his big hands were everywhere, all over your body. moving to squeeze at your tits, your ass, your thighs. eventually the settled on the waistband of your shorts and began to unbutton them. before pulling them off completely, leaving you in your lacy dark blue thong.

he pinched the plush of your pussy, barely hidden by the panties — more like decorated by it. immediately, the scent of your slick, which was already dripping, filled toji’s nostrils, making him let out a wanton moan.

“fuck, mama,” he hissed as he trailed his finger down your slit, “you always this wet? this is how you’ve been the entire time?” he looked up at you, eyes darkened with lust.

“no,” you lied immediately, giving him a reckless smirk. “she just like that off the rip. i determine whether it’s for you or not.” toji only let out a little laugh. “word?” he asked. you opened your mouth to repeat the word back to him, but you were rudely interrupted by him slapping your pussy.

it wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t exactly soft, the pain sending sparks of pleasure through you. you hissed out a, “shit..” toji smirked at your reaction as he pushed your panties to the side, before delivering another smack, this time a litle harder. you let out a mewl, squirming in his hold.

“crazy,” toji said to you, “two lil’ slaps just made you leagues wetter. you sure you’re not wet for me?”

you refused to answer, only giving him a shrug. “so you wanna be a brat now, huh?” he asked you with an eyebrow raise as he began to pull the panties down your thighs. “like you weren’t jus’ all over me. ‘toji, you a eater?’” he mocked you in a high pitched voice as he pulled you forward, legs sliding over his broad shoulders. you remained silent, biting your tongue. maybe you were a brat; you knew that with toji’s strength and stamina, you would get much more if you drew it out. plus, you wanted to make him work for every moan, every word.

“you gon eat my pussy or not?” you asked boldly, your hand going to lace through his hair, nails pressing against his scalp. “like literally, shut the f—!” you were interrupted by toji latching his mouth onto you, completely ripping the words from your mouth.

his tongue, long and flat, slid between your plush folds, calloused hands digging into your thighs as he shoved his face between your legs. off the rip, his motions were rough and quick, tongue swirling against your clit before going down to your hole, curling against it to lap at your essence. you gripped the couch as you let out soft moans, trying not to be too loud — you didn’t wanna fuel toji’s already large ego.

“fuck,” he mumbled as he pulled away, “pussy’s so sweet, baby. i should’ve bent you over in that fucking store the day you wore that skirt.” you were unable to respond before he was diving back in, tongue messily trailing througu your pussy. he was there between your thighs, feasting on what you offered, lapping up all the sweet nectar you had to spare. his lips latched onto the delicate bud of your clit, sucking with a fervor that left you gasping, while he looked up at you with a gaze that was as heated as it was prideful.

one of your hands found its way into his hair, tangling in the soft locks as you gripped it tightly, the other clutching onto the plush fabric of the couch as though it was your only lifeline. your breaths were coming out in ragged gasps, each one harder to catch than the last, your mouth falling open in that perfect 'o' shape as you let out sounds so sweet and melodious, singing a song of pure pleasure just for him.

and you couldn’t help it; euphoria was pulsing through your body, coating your thoughts in nothing but toji. your toes curled, as toji slid his tongue inside of you. god, he was so messy, your slick already all over his face, his spit mixing with your slick as it trailed down your ass.

you were incessantly moaning, unable to even downplay or disguise it anymore. “s-shit, toji, fuck, that feels so good—!” he looked up at you with satisfaction as he slid his tongue into your entrance, curling it upwards against your walls.

you squealed, trying to scoot backwards away from the pleasure, but he was quick to yank you back, trapping you against his mouth, his hands coming to wrap around your thighs. one of his fingers traced the stretch marks on your thighs. he worked his fat tongue inside of you, curling and sliding as his pointer finger swirled your clit at such a fast pace, you was sure he was gonna give you something close to a rug burn.

his paired actions had you spiraling over the edge, the coil in your stomach stretching and stretching until it was ready to snap. “toji, ‘m close—! fuck, fuck— gonna cum!” toji’s movements became much more insistent, gaining in speed as he basically shoved you over the edge.

your orgasm hit you like a brick, your back arching off the couch as you gripped toji’s hair tightly, whined babbles of repeated words leaving your lips. if it weren’t for toji holding you down and anchoring you, you were sure that you would’ve grown fucking wings and soared away.

you creamed all over his tongue, and he made sure to pull away, before messily spreading it throughout your pussy, just to lap it all up over again, letting you settle, working you through the after effects of your climax.

you sucked in ragged gasps as toji pulled away, licking his lips and wiping his face. he stared at you with such intensity, shivers went down your skin. your eyes immediately focused on his hard dick through his sweats, the outline prominent. you tapped your foot on his thigh. “gimme that,” you breathed.

“do you deserve it?” toji said back, his voice a bit raspy. “been a bratty slut this whole time. you were so cocky, remember? i don’t get you wet, right?”

you wanted to maintain your pride, you really, really did. but desperate times called for desperate measures. “c’mon, toji,” you sighed sultrily, “i was just playin’.. just wanted to make it a little fun for you, you know that..” you spread your legs a little more, teasing him as you continued, “it’s all yours, i swear — been waiting for this for such a long time.”

toji only gave you a soft chuckle and the only words gave you were, “that right, baby?” immediately, he scooped you up with a single arm, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. you let out a noise of surprise, but immediately arched your back, looking back at him as he pushed his sweats down his thighs. his dick sprung up, and you couldn’t say you were shocked by it.

his dick was both fat and long, and it almost made your eyes pop out of your head. he had to be at least eight inches, veins running up the side of his heavy dick. his tip was a dark apricot shade, and it was leaking bad, opaque beads of precum sliding out of his slit. he was well trimmed, with heavy breeder balls. you almost salivated. but at the same time, you questioned how all that was even supposed to fit in you.

he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “don’t you worry, princess. you’ll take every inch of me.” one of his hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as he directed his tip against your entrance, slapping it there a few times, making you groan in need. “t-toji, stop fuckin’ playin—!”

once again, you were rudely interrupted by him pushing the tip inside of you. he let out a hiss, your walls sucking him in. however, with just how wet you were, he slid right back out. he let out a snicker as he leaned his hand down to slap your pussy again. “but you not wet for me, alright..” he lined himself up again, and this time — he didn’t push into you slowly.

with one rough thrust, he filled you to the brim, forcing you forward as you let out a strangled noise, clawing at the couch. “toji! oh fuck..!” you pulled your hips forward, trying to get him to pull out a little, but he wasn’t having it. “s-shit, i’m not even all the way in yet,” he huffed, hair hanging in his eyes. toji was letting out pants, it felt as if your pussy was fucking suffocating his dick, strangling it.

inch by inch, he pushed the rest of his dick in, until the plush of your ass was nestled against his pelvis and stomach. he yanked at his shirt, pulling it off of his body. your slick was already coating him, dripping down to his balls. you were a mess, mewling just from him entering. you felt so full — his dick stuffing you better than you ever had been before. and it was driving you out your mind.

toji didn’t wait for you to adjust. with one hand on your ass, thumb rubbing against the ridges and dimples, and the other lacing through purple hair, toji pulled all the way out, and then slammed all the way back in. the force of his motions shoved you down into the couch, and immediately you let out a cry of, “t-toji! slow down!”

but slowing down wasn’t apart of his agenda. he rasped out, “nah, this is what you wanted, baby. so take it. take my dick like a good fuckin’ girl.” he began snapping his hips into you, the veins on his dick dragging against your walls just right. your cunt clamped down on him every time he tried to pull out, as if it was forcing him to make your cunt his new home.

toji was mesmerized by the way your ass jiggled and clapped with every movement he made, the sound of your skin slapping filling the air. he slapped your ass hard and then squeezed, making you squeal once more. “fuck, look at you. bouncing this ass back on my dick so good..”

at his praise, you looked back at him before proudly twerking back on his dick, putting on a little show. he laughed, his hand trailing from your hair to snake around your throat. “such a fuckin’ slut,” he said gruffly, before pulling his hips back so that only the tip was inside before ramming his dick back inside of you.

you felt him nudge against your cervix, and you let out a noise close to a scream, while his hand tightened around your throat. tears filled your eyes at the pain, your lashes beginning to slide. “you’re gonna wake up the kids, princess. wouldn’t want them to come down to seeing you getting fucked like some whore, right? keep that pretty mouth quiet.” he leaned down, chest pressing against your back as he curled his much larger body against yours. “but not too quiet. wanna hear you lose your fucking brain over this dick.”

his other hand came to wrap around your throat, and he began to jack hammer into you, slamming you on his dick over and over. your eyes rolled back, a mix of pain and pleasure twisting through you, that coil getting ready to snap again. “t-toji…” you slurred out, “g-gonna fuckin’ cum again…!”

“so fucking do it,” toji hissed as your clenching began to get more intense. “paint my shit, baby.” his voice was sending shivers down your spine, aiding your increasing pleasure. you let out ragged moans into the couch as your body trembled, pussy spasming wildly around his dick as you came a second time.

he didn’t slow down through your orgasm, instead, he went faster, if that was even humanly possible. he pressed down on your head, forcing your face into the couch, and pressing on your belly simultaneously. it forced you to have a deeper arch, but it also made you feel just how deep he was inside of you. pressing his big hand against your stomach to feel his bulge had toji grinning.

you were a wreck, tears sliding down your face, your lashes long fallen of. you were pretty sure your lace had peeled, but you didn’t care. you could barely think, barely form coherent sentences with how toji was fucking you. and he knew it. he knew he reduced you to a mess, and he wasn’t even halfway finished with you.

soon, he felt his orgasm coming, and he let out a deep groan. “shit.. where do you want my cum, doll? ‘m getting close..” you were quick to whine out, “i-inside, toji.. want you to cum inside…!”

“haah!” he grunted out with a smirk, “want me to fill you up, huh? want me to stuff you full with my cum? yeah, i bet you fucking do, look at you.”

“toji, toji, toji, fuckkk.. want your babies, c’mon, make me a mama again—!” toji laughed shakily at your dumb response, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “fuck yeah, dollface. you better not spill not one drop, alright?” he let out a strangled moan as he released, his thick cum filling her to the walls.

you sucked in harsh breaths, finally feeling relieved after toji’s constant fucking stopped. he seemed to slow down, gently fucking his load into you. you began to relax… however you were sorely mistaken.

“you thought i was done with you?” toji asked as he gripped you, flipping you over so that he could see your face. you looked a mess, but you were so, so pretty. your eyes were watery, face with tear trails all over. your lips were bruised from how much you’d been biting them. at least your hair was still intact… for now. toji leaned down and pressed a kiss to your jawline, down to your throat. he yanked at the top you wore, and when it didn’t want to cooperate, he ripped it and peeled it off of you himself. “toji, my shirt….” you whimpered but he dismissively waved a hand. “you’ll get one of mine.” he reached behind you, unclipping your bra and letting your tits spring free.

his big hands almost swallowed them as he began to leave bites and kisses all over your throat, collarbone and chest. “can’t possibly be done with you,” he said against your skin, “been waiting to fuck you like this since i laid eyes on you, doll.”

he left a plethora of hickies on your skin, very obviously marking you as his. you were still speared on his dick, and he began to roll his hips languidly inside of you, curving into your g-spot repeatedly. the feeling had you seeing stars as he gripped your legs and pulled them around his waist. with each thrust, he began to get more forceful and speed up, until once more, he was pounding your insides.

your nails went to his back, scratching, making toji wince in pain as his hips collided with yours. three of your nails had broken off. a third time, you felt yourself reach your climax once more, but it felt different. painful almost, with the last your clit throbbed. you managed to push away the toji-shaped clouds in your brain and realized.

“t-toji—! toji, ‘m gonna squirt!” you cried out as you twisted in his hold, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you. “t-toji—!” he only smirked at you, yanking you closer. “make a mess f’me, mama. wanna see you get all messy… c’mon, c’mon, make that pretty pussy squirt on my dick.” he pressed another messy kiss to your lips as his hand snuck down to rub your clit, forcing more pleasure into your system. you let out a ruined, gasped noise — like you wanted to scream but couldn’t get it out. clear liquid gushed from you, coating toji’s lower half, some of his abdomen and the couch.

you were in too much of a haze to notice that soon after, toji came inside of you a second time. he didn’t pull out at first, instead opting to lay his head against your sweaty skin, pressing kisses. he realized that you would be completely gone for a bit, after that, so he was gentler with you. he pulled out, watching his cum slowly dribble from your hole after the two creampies he gave you. not wanting you to sit in your own fluids, picked you up and brought you to his room, putting you one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers before tucking you in.

he went back downstairs, eyes locked on the mess you made on the couch. a soft whistle escaped as he plucked your lashes off the sofa and put them on the table.

you probably wouldn’t become his girlfriend yet; but you damn for sure weren’t going anywhere now.

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qingxin-dream · 7 months

Text

“My Sweet Angel”

summary | months of repressed feelings bubble to the surface one night, but you’re fast asleep while wanderer is lost in his own thoughts secretly pining for you. but, uh…pining might be an understatement. (art credits: @/1eternalstar on twitter).

warnings | wanderer is down so bad, obsession, profanity, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader, somnophilia, aphrodisiac/drugging, masturbation, edging/orgasm denial, oral f!receiving, bondage, temperature/element play, worship, slight degradation/praise, creampie

genre | pure, filthy smut (happy kinktober!🎃)

word count | 2.8k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A small, breathless gasp ripples through the silence of the night. The sound of crickets and cicadas is but a low roar in the background, barely enough to mask the melody of your traveling companion’s sweet, subdued moans. Merely a foot away is your sleeping form, quietly snoozing with your pretty lashes resting on your cheeks. Your silhouette is ethereal, like an angel banished from heaven finding solace in the moonlight with her wings tucked safely away.

Wanderer’s attention ceaselessly gravitated toward you. It seemed to be a natural reaction. Instinctual, even. He admired you with the deepest devotion, seconds turning into hours. There was a part of him, something long buried and locked away, which surfaced in his chest like a breath of fresh air.

Your hair cascades perfectly over your shoulders, framing the soft shape of your face. Your rosy lips part in a faint sigh. The occasional incoherent mumble of your dreams causes his ears to perk up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what your little fantasies are made of. Your exposed stomach when you roll over with a groan and the magnetic curve of your legs make his eyes darken with lust.

Archons, he had way too much time in his hands every night. Thankfully you were blissfully unaware that puppets didn’t need any sleep.

He cursed to himself between sharp, ragged intakes, his needy violet eyes reflecting the luminescence of the moon, raking over your curves with a carnal glint. Looking back, he had all the opportunities in the world to stop that nagging desire churning within his chest.

But Wanderer was selfish. Once he got a taste of your affection, consider him a starved man.

His thoughts about you would twist and tangle his emotions until it utterly choked him of any sensibility. Love and lust are more than just a slippery slope. The puppet was free-falling in the abyss of your pheromones. The best part is you were completely clueless to these intimate escapades of his.

Could you blame such a depraved, touch-starved puppet?

The nights all seemed to blend together like this. Waiting patiently for you to snore gently before he let his fingers ghost your figure, assuring him that you wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. One hand would devote itself to exploring every bit of skin you had to offer while the other palmed the growing bulge in his shorts.

Like a moth to a flame, he became utterly entranced with the glow of your skin beneath the moon. You are like a goddess laying beautifully upon your altar of silken bedsheets, awaiting the devout worship of his soft prayers and saccharine lips.

His fingers grazed your shoulder, trailing down your arm and leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake. He let his hand mesh carefully into the dip of your waist, imperceptibly squeezing it just enough to fan the flames of his imagination. He was in another dimension entirely, wishing for the day you’d beg for his touch.

Wanderer takes his lower lip between his teeth harshly, dipping his hand beneath his shorts to tug the tip of his thick cock with growing fervor. Precum had already wet the slit of his tip, lubricating each teasing thrust of his hand over his dick. Meanwhile, he continued his journey down the round, plump curve of your hips.

Hips that were meant for childbearing.

He takes a fistful of your nightgown momentarily as his cock aches in his hand, yearning for release so soon. For fuck’s sake, why is the image of you bred full with his seed so goddamn hot?

His movements came to an abrupt halt at the lacy end of your little nightgown. He had to know what you were wearing beneath that silky dress. The idea of making a mess all over your cute panties, covering them generously in his cum, only edged him further. Or, even better, he’d love to fuck his creamy load all over your drenched folds before sliding back in for another round.

Wanderer had to make a concerted effort to reel in his filthy daydreams, struggling to keep his hands from trembling on you. He managed to slip the nightgown higher and higher up your smooth thighs, a lump quickly forming in the puppet’s throat.

He’s not sure if he could handle seeing you so vulnerable without ripping your clothes off and fucking you to his heart’s content right then and there. No, no, no... After all this endless waiting and pining for many torturous months, he couldn’t ruin this with a fleeting moment of insatiable want. He pauses, collecting himself for a brief moment.

The puppet’s pupils dilated into pools of audacious desire upon seeing the dainty black undergarments hugging your plush hip. It was lacy with a beautiful floral design, enrapturing his gaze all the way down to your cunt. Wanderer couldn’t help himself, reaching out subconsciously to brush his thumb against your clit through your panties.

“I wanna fuck you so bad… so bad,” he whispers, his voice just an octave higher with desperation as he continues to fist his throbbing cock. The friction of his hand isn’t enough. It couldn’t come close to the immaculate sensation of your slick pussy enveloping his cock, dragging the tip slowly from your clit to your fluttering, empty hole. But that would be insane, he couldn’t.

You didn’t seem to move a muscle in response to his touch. Meanwhile, Wanderer is struggling like a fool to restrain himself, it is almost comical. He could feel his impending orgasm, forcing his hand to slow down with longer, more intermittent strokes to stop from practically bursting at the seams.

Eventually, he found the courage to nudge the cloth of your black panties aside, revealing your pretty little pussy lips glistening with need. The puppet’s violet irises swirl with power, nearly drunk on the mere thought of pleasuring you in secret like this. Why else would you wear such a sexy little garment for him?

A dull, burning sensation coated his lungs as his thumb nestled into your bare clit, resolving himself to carefully lean down and relieve his parched throat with a kitten lick of your folds. It was a miracle that you hadn’t stirred in your sleep too much, yet the part of him reckless with lust wanted you to wake up while he was tongue-deep in your cunt. He dived between your labia again with his mouth, exhaling a soft, guttural moan into your hole after another good lick.

“Mm, so fucking good… I know you fucking like this, baby,” Wanderer mumbles, wrapping his arms around your hips to secure you in place as he freely drags his tongue across your folds and clit skillfully, placing an occasional kiss here and there. Your thighs subconsciously tense with pleasure.

Had he known you would taste so divine, he would’ve devoured your pussy a long time ago. Shifting slightly so that he could lay completely on his stomach, Wanderer eagerly laps at your cunt and fucks his leaking cock into the mattress. Shit, it is too easy for him to lose sight of himself and tug at your hips possessively, not hesitating to fuck you messily with his tongue.

It’s when he got a little too hasty slurping on your pussy with a particularly lascivious moan that you grumble in your sleep. Wanderer freezes, peering over your pelvis like a predator defending his prize with a piercing violet glare.

There is no way you could possibly wake up. Not now. Not when he’s so close. He deduces that the twitch in your sleep must be from that little aphrodisiac he slipped in your evening tea with him. The puppet had made a nice concoction of tasteless drugs to keep you both asleep and all sensitive just for him.

Wanderer is confident that his potion had its intended effect, but just in case—with a flick of his wrist, he ties your hands together on the headboard with a cool, pressurized ring of Anemo energy. He towers over you, a giddy smirk spreading across his lips seeing you so helpless to his desires.

He had read that cute pocket diary of yours gushing over him like he’s your high school sweetheart, don’t worry. You both know these feelings are mutual. But let’s be honest, he’d much rather you gush on his cock over and over until your pussy can’t take it anymore. And you’ve been dreaming about it too, he’s seen it with his own eyes.

Positioning himself between your legs, the puppet slaps his thick cock on your stomach, measuring it up to your belly button where his pink tip mushrooms. There’s no question that his dick would bottom out inside your walls, maybe if he’s lucky he could see his thrusts bulge in your lower stomach. He’d love to pound you deep enough to truly bury his cum inside you, plugging it with his pulsing cock until he’s sure you’re nice and bred.

No, no, he reminds himself again. He has to savor his time with you—make love to you like you rightfully deserve. There will be plenty of opportunities to fuck you senseless later, despite how badly he wants it now.

The tip of his cock trails down to your folds, tucking his length under your panties. Using one hand to guide his cock against your soaking core, the other rests on your inner thigh as he grinds against you slowly. Wanderer grits his teeth at the feeling, sucking in a sharp breath and brushing his thumb lovingly against your sensitive inner thigh. It’s everything he’s ever imagined and more.

He’s forced to bite his knuckles, nearly choking on his own pathetic whines of pleasure. His thrusts grow faster, using your lingerie to keep his cock pressed firmly between your folds.

His words are a ravenous, hoarse whisper, begging you in your sleep. “Shit, shit, shit, you’re gonna make me cum…! Can I put it in? C-Can I please put it in?”

Wanderer knows what your answer will be, grinding sloppily on your drenched cunt while he grabs your breast. He wishes he could hear you say it. But he can feel the way your sweet little hole clenches around nothing every time his tip rubs your clit just right, and that’s enough for him.

It takes no effort to snap the thin straps of your lacy panties in haste, quickly tossing the garment aside indiscriminately. It’s too much, fuck, you look too perfect. Before he knows it, Wanderer pushes his tip inside your sopping entrance, gazing with wonder at how you suck him in like a good slut. Such a good fucking slut, hugging the first inch of his hard cock like you never wanted to let go.

Your spongy walls subconsciously react to his every motion, tightening around the puppet’s cock with unprecedented strength. He hisses, materializing a blue chained choker around your neck with his Anemo abilities and yanking you forward. His girth splits you apart, sliding inside your throbbing cunt inch by every tantalizing inch, until he can meet you halfway and kiss your whimpering, tender lips.

“Goddamn you,” Wanderer growls into the kiss, harshly biting onto your lip. He doesn’t draw blood, but tends to your bruised skin thereafter with a gentler, half-apologetic kiss. “You feel so fucking good, take me so fucking good… mm…”

His hips draw back, your walls noticeably empty in his absence. Snapping forward, his huge cock plunges into your depths with a delightfully lewd smack, causing him to chuckle under his breath. The puppet carefully lays you back on the pillow, planting his arms on either side of your head so that his vision is filled with only your beautiful face.

Once Wanderer begins to establish a rhythm, there’s no stopping him. Every drag of his veiny cock against your sensitive walls is utterly addicting, he had to come back for more and more. He moans and whines your name into your delicate little neck, taking the flesh into his mouth to suck and mark you as his own.

He is panting over you like an animal in heat. “I can feel you squeezing me, angel. I know you love it. ‘M gonna use that pretty little pussy of yours.”

Your body twitches beneath him as his lips leave no crevice untouched by his kisses or hickeys, a smattering of small red and purple blotches dotting your skin from your neck to your breasts. All the while, the puppet had to throttle his pace again, almost giving in to the ecstasy. You were definitely getting close too, he could feel it in the way you clenched around him greedily.

Swirling his tongue around your cute nipple, Wanderer suckles it briefly with a pop of his mouth, admiring his work on the canvas of your gorgeous body. He leaned back, hooking his hands under your calves to press your knees to your chest. If only he had a Kamera to capture the mesmerizing image of your legs spread so good for him with a perfect shot of your cunt wrapped around his tip.

He could tell this position had your walls enveloping his length even tighter than before, angling his cock deep towards that special spot inside you that would have your toes curling. “God, (Y/N), you look so fucking sexy like this.”

It is killing him—the sensation of your hole desperately clinging to the inch of his cock sheathed within you. The puppet keeps your legs pushed back and snakes a hand down to your clit once more, which had obviously been aching for attention. He’s lost in the contours of your folds all splayed out for him, so much so that he lets a globule of his spit drip over your clit to mix with your juices.

You are squirming slightly in your sleep from all the stimulation, but he doesn’t care. The euphoric feeling of teetering on the edge of an incredible orgasm has Wanderer stripped of any sense of reason. He nudges his cock halfway inside you at a delectably slow pace, reveling in your body’s subtle reactions to his teasing.

“Yeah, baby? You wanna fucking cum?” Wanderer whispers hotly over you, circling your clit faster. There’s already a delicious ring of your essence gathering at the base of his cock.

“Cum…” you mumble in a daze, your eyelashes fluttering open slowly. Your expression is contorted into a helpless plea, licking and biting your bottom lip as you sleepily notice his cock nestled between your thighs.

Wanderer’s eyes snap to yours in disbelief. You’re lucid, but asking for more. He begins to chuckle lowly, and reaches to caress your cheek. “You want it, hm? Speak up.”

He continues to fuck you at an excruciatingly slow pace, waiting patiently for you to beg for his seed. He wanted you in tears, squirting all over him like a good girl. Your moans encourage him to go deeper.

“Please, Wanderer,” you struggle to curl your fingers in his indigo locks under the effects of the drugs. “K-keep going, feels too good. Fill me up, please…”

“Like this?” The puppet smirks, forcefully thrusting his huge cock to the brim inside of you. He relishes in your lovely cries of pleasure and pain, swallowing them in a passionate kiss as he fucks you with reckless abandon.

You could barely hiccup a response, sloppily kissing back as Wanderer abuses your tight hole. He has you pinned against the creaky mattress, holding your face with his thumb on your chin to keep your mouth open. Every noise of ecstasy is his to claim and taste on your tongue.

“Mine, baby, all mine. Say it for me,” Wanderer moans, adoring the cock-drunk glimmer in your clouded eyes.

Squeezing your eyes shut suddenly, your eyebrows furrowed together as you suddenly felt your orgasm build at a rapid speed. You whined against the Anemo cuffs restraining your wrists above your head. “Yours! Oh my god, I’m yours. I’m gonna fucking cum, please, please give it me…!”

“Mhmm, yeah c’mon baby, lemme see you cum for me, so good for me, yeah?” he praises, kissing you roughly as he snaps his hips into you. It’s impossible to deny his insatiable need for you any longer, painting your walls white with spurts of his hot seed in a series of profanity-laden grunts.

Your eyes nearly roll back as your orgasm washes over you, legs trembling around him. The continuous twitch of his cock has you arching your back, taking every last drop of his cum until your cunt can’t hold any more. It leaks out, creaming your folds and his cock nicely.

Once you both catch your breath and lock eyes, you feel your cunt ache to be filled once more. Noticing how you trap him with your legs around his hips, Wanderer realizes the aphrodisiac must have been stronger than he anticipated.

You smile sweetly. “M-maybe one more?”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated. my masterlist.

#happy kinktober and happy halloween!!🫶#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut

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dazedandconfused-15 · 2 months

Text

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 1)

This is to answer a request I received from an anonymous user a couple of months ago “Billy asks shy reader out and is protective over her”, for some reason I can't directly respond to their post still getting used to Tumblr. Sorry for taking a while to write this one. Anyway, I got a little bit carried away and turned it into a short fic, I just loved the whole concept. I’ll definitely post a part 2. Comments and constructive opinions are always appreciated 🩷

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 2

______________________________________________________________

You have always watched him from a distance.

There was something magnetic about him. Where he was, energy swirled.

You have never spoken to him. He’s something inaccessible to you. He hangs out with the popular crowd. Yet, unlike all of them, he doesn’t seem to pretend. He doesn’t show off. He naturally exudes an aura that makes him alluring. He’s not just what could be called "hot." No, he’s beautiful. When you first saw him in the school hallways, you could swear that for a second, your heart stopped. He was playing with his lighter, walking with an assured stride in the direction of his classroom with Jason Carver. He was a palette of contrasting colors that stood out in perfect harmony. His tanned face was framed by long, golden curls that almost fell over his shoulders. He looked straight ahead as he listened to the boy at his side with his red mouth stretched into a smirk that revealed white teeth. His cupid bow was dusted with stubble. It was no surprise that most of the girls looked at him with no shame, the shyest ones glancing up as soon as he passed them. That California boy did not look like a boy. He looked like a man. You could tell by the way he was built, the black leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders, the muscular legs in his denim jeans.

You had realized that you were staring openly at him when he passed by you and, probably feeling the weight of your gaze on him, his eyes had met yours. There, something had happened inside you. His eyes were the purest blue you had ever seen. They were crystalline. But it was the long dark lashes that gave his gaze something expressive and unique. They were the embodiment of what is called a piercing gaze. It was a unique paradox: as angelic as it was rough in outline. Awakening from your enchantment, you lowered your gaze with an abrupt jerk of your head and resumed putting your books away in the locker, feeling your cheeks on fire and your heart beating wildly.

That was the only time you had even a remote semblance of contact with him.

As you rush to your English literature class a month later, rounding the corner of the hallway, the last thing you expect is to bump into him. You let out an "ouch" as you collide with his hard chest, your notes and pencil case tumbling to the ground in the chaos. It's only when you raise your eyes in a flurry of apologies that you realize who you've bumped into. You swallow, kneeling and picking up your notes hastily.

"You alright?"

"Yes. Yes." the notes slip through your shaking fingers.

His hands appear in your field of vision, and when you accidentally touch them, an electric shock almost makes you wince. He helps you pick them up, then raises to his feet and holds them to you. You thank him, thinking about what else you could say to avoid making the situation awkward. His baby blue shirt matches the color of his eyes. He’s even prettier from closer.

"We’re in History class together, right?

His question surprises you. You didn't think he would remember you. You didn't think he would notice you.

"Yes. That's right."

He holds out his hand, his heavy-lidded gaze on you. "Billy."

You shake his hand, introducing yourself. His hand is large and his grip his firm, but gentle at the same time. That touch makes your stomach tangle. You can't believe he is talking to you.

"You're new, right?" you ask. You know fully well that he arrived here a month ago. You know full well that he is from California. He probably knows that you know, but he doesn't say anything about it

"Yes. Moved here last month."

“Oh, okay. Welcome to Hawkins, then.” you say gently as you absently tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Thanks.”

There’s a beat of silence, him probably waiting for you to say something else. You point at the door down the hallway, starting to walk away. “I ah, I have to go to class. Sorry.”

And you walk away, no, you scurry away, almost escaping him, feeling a pang of embarrassment as you replay the scene later in your head, regretting how abruptly you left without saying more.

You don’t cross paths with him again after that. However, you are clearly more aware of his presence during history classes even though you don’t interact again.

In recent months, you've adopted a strategy of minimizing your visibility as much as possible. It’s not always easy. That Thursday is one of the hard days. Mr. Jensen, the new history teacher, makes his way through the rows of desks, collecting permission slips signed by parents for the upcoming day trip he has organized to Indianapolis.

"Ah, I don't seem to have your permission slip yet," he inquires gently as he sees you empty-handed. "Did you forget to bring it today?"

Feeling the eyes of everyone on you, your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate all of this attention on you. "I, um, I haven't been able to get it signed yet. My dad's been working double shifts, and I haven't caught him at home."

“I understand,” the teacher says, “But I need to give all the signed papers to the principal by tomorrow. Is it possibly to get it signed today? By your mother, perhaps?”

Before you could answer, Tommy Hagan's voice pierces the air, his tone laced with mockery. "She's probably halfway across the country by now, cozying up with some other guy."

You don’t even turn to look at him. You saw it coming. It’s been five months since she left now. Hawkins is a small town, so the news spread quickly. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, avoiding eye contact with your classmates as you feel the weight of their curious gazes.

"I uh...I just," you try to ignore Tommy's comment, resting your eyes on the professor whose eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. "I'll tell my dad tonight. He's just been really busy. I will bring it to class tomorrow."

“If he comes back with the milk.” snickers Tommy.

You stiffen instantly without wanting to, which the teacher doesn’t fail to notice.

“That's enough, Mr. Hagan. Comments like that have no place in my classroom.” he snaps as his eyes darken, his jaw set. His expression softens as he turns to me “Don't worry about the permission slip for now. We'll make sure you're included."

As the professor returns to his seat, your eyes remain fixed on the spot where the bench is chipped, absently touching it with your fingernail. Your body fails to relax as you fight to ignore the burning in your throat, careful not to blink, your vision blurred for a few moments. But Tommy's yelp draws your attention and you turn your head to your left, where he is sitting next to Billy.

“What was that for, man?”

Tommy is rubbing his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain and a mixture of disbelief and confusion on his face. Billy stares straight ahead, his face cold and hard.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he eventually mutters under the teacher’s explanation. However, it sounds more like a statement than a question.

As you go back to stare at your desk, your throat is still burning but your vision is clear again. You wonder if what Billy said was because of Tommy's comments. Why would he defend you?

The rest of the class passes in a blur of confusion and unanswered questions. Tommy's hurtful words echo in your mind, leaving you shaken and upset, the sting of their cruelty lingering long after the bell rings.

***

On the morning of the school trip, you are tempted to call the school and say you are sick, but your father comes back from the plant later in the morning and will see that you are actually fine. Also, Mr. Jensen might suspect that something is going on. Only, the idea of spending the day with the whole class, but feeling more alone than you are when you're at school, doesn't appeal to you. You've never been very outgoing. Since your mother left, the armor that covered you has only thickened, alienating you from the rest of the world. To this day you have received no answers. She left overnight without warning. You never received a call. You knew that things had not been going well between your parents for some time. Or rather, your mother kept complaining about how being in Hawkins was suffocating her, how she was no longer happy. The pain was slowly becoming coated with resentment. She had abandoned you and your father as if nothing had happened, as if years of living together had counted for nothing. As if being a family had cost nothing. Arriving on the ground floor and finding the kitchen light off had now become a habit, not an odd occurrence. Other things had become routine: the unaccustomed silence in your house, the TV once perpetually on now always off, the teapot once always in use was now in the kitchen drawer.

Once on the school bus, you spend your time looking out the window and counting the trees on the distant hills. You can feel the wind blowing outside, the rain pelting cruelly on the window. A crack lets a trickle of air through, making you shiver and clench tighter in your jacket. The ride at least passes quietly, no one talking to you or bothering you. Tommy Hagan keeps his comments to himself, too busy jabbering in the back of the bus with his band of friends. You can hear the occasional shrillness in the voice of Carol Perkins, his girlfriend.

You spend almost the entire morning in the Indiana Historical Society, following the professor through the corridors of the museum. You stay in the background, drowning out the guide's voice and looking at the paintings hanging on the wall. As you change rooms, you realize that you are not the only one who has remained aloof. Billy Hargrove lingers to your side at the back of the row of students, his hands tucked into his leather jacket. You try not to be affected by his presence, suddenly self-conscious of the way you walk and breathe. You still remember what he told Tommy Hagan the week before. You are increasingly convinced that he defended you. As the class spreads in different directions, everyone observing something different and speaking lowly in small groups you realize he’s still here, on your side. As you ponder if you should say something, or just assume that he’s walking behind on his own, he catches you off guard.

“Kinda boring, huh?”

“Yeah, a little," you respond, offering him a small smile that probably looks like a grimace. "History isn't my cup of tea."

“Mine neither,” his gaze scans the display cases lining the wall on your left. “Beats being seated all day in class, though.”

“Definitely,” you nod in agreement as you slowly cross through another room. Desperately trying to fill the silence, you come up with the first thing that crosses your mind. “I’ve been here before.”

“The museum?”

“Indianapolis,” you say. You hesitate before finishing your thoughts. “My grandma lived here. I spent some weekends at hers.”

Billy hums. He sniffs, then retrieves some chewing gums from his back pocket. He unwraps one. “How’s the city?”

“It’s great. Oh, thank you.” you softly say as you take the gum he’s offering you. “There are some nice parks.”

He pops the chewing gum in his mouth. “We have quite a few in San Diego too.

You turn toward him, curiosity overcoming your shyness. “You lived in San Diego?”

“Yes. Big change of scenery.”

“I can imagine.” your gaze wanders to the antique objects displayed in a glass case. “I’ve seen pictures, it looks incredible.” memories of your dad's album, from when he was young, flood your mind – images of palm trees swaying in the breeze, golden beaches stretching for miles, and endless blue skies that seemed to merge seamlessly with the ocean.

“That’s something else, yeah. Honestly, I couldn’t complain at all.”

“I wish I could see California,” you say a little dreamily.

“I can take you one day.”

Your throat feels suddenly dry. So you let out a nervous giggle, avoiding his gaze, assuming he is joking. Fortunately, the professor calls your attention back. It's lunchtime and he tells you that you are free to go wherever you want, as long as you are outside the museum within four hours. You told your father the school would pay for the student's lunch because you know times are tough. He insisted on giving you ten dollars in case you need it.

You walk down the steps of the museum looking around and thinking about where you could make all this time go. It's going to be long. You know a few restaurants, but you know that your pocket money is clearly not enough to eat there. A gust of wind brings the smell of smoke to your nostrils, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Billy stop beside you. His eyes take in your surroundings.

“So, you told me you know the city.”

“Huh, yes,” you answer, a little lost. “Not all of it, but most of it, like downtown.”

Billy exhales the smoke he’s been holding in his mouth. “Are we downtown?”

You look around, recognizing the skyscrapers in the distance. "Yes," you point to the skyline to your right, figuring he simply wants to ask you for information so he knows where to go with his friends. "It's over there."

“Sweet. You hungry?”

The silence that passes between the two of you makes him turn toward you, waiting for your response. So you rush to answer, ignoring the way his piercing blue eyes make you feel self-conscious.

“Yes. Yes, a little bit,” then you ask him, unsure: “...are you?”

“Starving.” he resumes walking down the stairs again, and you follow him, trying to figure out if he really means what you think he means. Some classmates are already leaving in different directions. “You know someplace to eat?”

“I do. But I don’t have enough. In case you want to go together. If that’s what you were offering.” You add, mentally slapping yourself. Why does everything you say have to come across as weird? Besides, you just admitted that you are practically out of money. “I can show you, though.”

Billy shakes his head, shifting in his leather jacket. “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on me.”

“No, really, I can't let you do that," you insist, your voice tinged with concern. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I can't just let you pay for me."

Billy turns to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he exhales the smoke sideways. "Come on, it's no big deal," he reassures you. "Consider it my way of saying thanks for showing me around. Besides, it's not like I'm short on cash."

You hesitate for a moment. But ultimately, you know that accepting his offer would ease the burden on your wallet. With a resigned sigh, you nod in agreement. "Okay, if you insist," you concede, offering him a small smile. "But just this once.”

You wanna immediately grimace at your pathetic implication that there would be another time, but Billy doesn’t seem to notice anyway.

He just winks at you. And even if he’s not smiling or anything, it still makes your stomach flip. "Deal," he says. "Now, lead the way."

As you walk beside each other through the park later on, you relish in what surrounds you, not even realizing the silence that has settled between the two of you because it feels so natural. Some people are jogging, there are some families too, or people walking alone headed who knows where. The birds are chirping in the trees that are alongside the walk. You spot a squirrel scurrying up the trunk of one of them, its fluffy tail waving wildly. The late afternoon sun is shining right in front of you, hitting your skin in a gentle caress. Spring is gradually unfurling its colors, bringing with it a glimmer of warmth that has been absent from your life lately. In the midst of the cold and desolation that settled in after your mother's departure, this glimpse of light offers a tentative promise of renewal, a small beacon of hope amid the darkness that has enveloped you and your father. You glance at Billy, realizing that in the short span of your conversation, he's frequently reached for a cigarette. Yet, even during the moments when he abstained, like in the museum and at the restaurant, his mouth was never empty. It was either occupied by a mint, a bite of burger, the straw of his milkshake, or eventually a toothpick found on the table.

“So, uhm, have you been somewhere else besides San Diego or Hawkins?” you venture.

“Nope”, he answers, the “p” resounding loudly. He looks around, one hand in his jacket pocket as the other one holds the cigarette on his side. “Never moved from Cali. I was born in Santa Barbara. Then moved to San Diego when I was ten.”

You hum in acknowledgment. “Is Santa Barbara close to the ocean?”

“It is. I’ve always lived by the ocean.”

You turn to him, enthusiasm laced in your voice as you get carried away in the conversation. “So you know how to surf?”

Billy chuckles, nodding as he brings the cigarette to his lips. “I do, yeah. Surfed every day.”

“Wow.” you breathe, your mind wandering away. “It must be…like an adrenaline rush.”

As Billy exhales the smoke, you don’t miss the nostalgic glint flickering in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. "Yeah, it's something else. There's nothing quite like catching a wave, feeling the power of the ocean beneath you."

“I’ve heard it’s hard to learn.” you muse softly.

The rhythmic sound of your footsteps punctuates the conversation. Billy stays silent for a few seconds, probably lost in his thoughts. Then he shrugs. “To be honest, I was on the surfboard since I was a child, so must’ve been natural for me. But yeah, it generally is.

“I can only imagine," you respond, a sense of longing in your voice. You’ve only seen this kind of landscape in pictures or on TV. "Must have been amazing growing up with that kind of freedom."

Billy's sigh is loud as he exhales a plume of smoke, his gaze drifting towards the horizon. "It was. Surfing was my escape, you know? Whenever things got tough, I could just grab my board and disappear into the waves."

What he says lightens some curiosity in you. You wonder what he means by that. You wonder what he went through, what his past was like. There’s something really intriguing about him. But you refrain from asking more, aware of how little you know each other. Besides, you can’t help but notice the little twitch of his jaw muscles as he says it.

"It’s always been books for me.” you offer. “They have this way of transporting you to another world, making you forget about everything else."

Billy nods in understanding. “What kinda books you read?”

“Oh,” you look at your shoes as you feel suddenly vulnerable. You almost feel ashamed of your taste in books, but you know you shouldn’t. “A bit of everything, really. I’m reading a Dostoevsky one right now.

“Dostoevsky, huh? Pretty heavy stuff,” he says, arching an eyebrow.

“You’ve read some of him before?

“I read Dream of a Ridiculous Man. A long time ago though.”

“Oh,” you breathe, recalling how challenging it was to finish it when you read it a couple of months ago. Reading books by Dostoevsky, especially that one, has been both a cathartic and enlightening experience. They made you feel less alone in your pain. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s kinda controversial.” he grimaces. “It’s a fucking depressing book. But... it's like... there's something about it that just... resonates, you know what I mean? Like, you read it and... it's like looking into a mirror, but... the reflection's all twisted and weird. I don't know if that makes any sense.” he shrugs.

It couldn’t make more any sense to you. For the first time, you feel understood in that sense. It's a relief to know that you're not alone in finding meaning within its pages. His words resonate deeply with you.

“I totally get it. That’s part of the reason why I like his books.”

The subtle revelation hangs in the air with the rhythmic sound of your footsteps on the concrete path. You hope he’s not reflecting on your words too much, aware of what you’ve implied. Your own thoughts go on what he said. Why did Billy resonate so much with the book? What if there’s something everybody can relate to, even people who haven’t experienced anything bad in life?

“You?” he then asks. “Always been in Hawkins?”

“Born and raised.” you nod. Then you add, a bit sheepishly: “Nothing like California, unfortunately.”

Billy snorts, flicking his cigarette. “What’s there to do in summer?”

“Oh uh. Nothing much. We have a public pool.” you offer, looking at him.

Billy takes a drag, his eyes trailing on the path in front of both of you.

“We have Lover’s Lake too,” you add. “It’s quite nice, actually. People spend the day there and have barbecues or campfires.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about that one,” he says. “You guys party by the lake during summer or something like that.”

“Yes.” then you keep quiet for a few breaths, imagining he’s probably heard it from one of his friends from the basketball team. They’re usually to host parties or organize them. It always involves loads of alcohol and ends up in big scandals. You feel the urge to correct him. “Not me, though. I don’t, uh…I don’t party.”

You feel his eyes on you. “Makes sense.”

You look up at him in question.

“Didn’t see you at the Halloween party.”

“The one hosted by Tina Williams?” you soon look away as soon as you meet his gaze. “I didn’t know you…you noticed.”

“Would’ve sure as hell noticed if you were there.”

As Billy's words settle in, you feel a warmth spreading through you, starting from the tips of your ears and flushing your cheeks crimson. His simple compliment catches you off guard, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within you. You find yourself struggling to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering away as you search for some semblance of composure. None of this makes sense. The mere fact that he recognized your absence at the party, that he shared lunch with you, that he's now walking beside you in the park—it all feels inexplicable. You're accustomed to blending into the background, being an outcast in the bustling halls of the school. You're no stranger to the whispers that swirl around you, painting you as the outsider, the comments about your situation at home, the subtle jabs at your circumstances. The silence between you stretches, pregnant with unspoken thoughts.

“You alright?” you hear him ask.

You slow down, lingering to a stop as you realize Billy has stopped walking too. He looks down at you with a hint of curiosity, the sun caressing his golden skin and reflecting in his eyes, becoming like polished, crystalline gems. That’s when you notice little details you haven’t paid attention to before. The scar cutting through his right eyebrow, the pattern of freckles dusting his nose.

“I guess I’m just a little confused,” you admit.

Billy exhales the smoke from his nostrils, his gaze effortlessly fixed intensely on you. “Why is that?”

“I just…” you try to not avoid his gaze. “Why are you here with me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement and what looks like genuine confusion. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His question is so simple it takes you off guard. Makes you question your reasoning. As you’re at a loss for words, you feel a blush slowly creeping down your cheeks.

Billy’s lips slowly curve into a smile, somewhat teasing. “You really have pretty eyes, you know that?”

You’re positively sure you’re as red as a lobster now, a little whine escaping your lips as embarrassment settles over you. It’s the most instinctual reaction. It makes him chuckle, and makes you awkwardly laugh in response, because what else can you do? He tilts his head to the side, trying to meet your avoiding eyes.

“How about that? I’m here with you ‘cause of your pretty eyes”.

“I really don’t think they’re that special.” you shake your head, still laughing.

You’re not that innocent to not realise he’s openly flirting with you. You’re not surprised, because just looking at him is enough. You’ve also heard things about him and some girls at high school. What surprises you, is that he’s flirting with you. You don’t have that much experience in the love department, but there’s something sincere and genuine in the way he’s doing it now. There’s something soft in his eyes that tells you he’s sincere.

“Well, it’s a shame,” he says, that’s when you realise how much closer you are to each other. You can tell by how you can smell the tobacco and his cologne, his silver earring shining as it catches the sun. He tilts his head again, this time catching your gaze as you muster the courage to lock eyes with him. “’Cause you have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, nodding your head slightly. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.

You feel like you want to return the compliment because his eyes are the reason why your heart is reacting the way it does. But then again, you’re too shy to do that, and a tiny part of you thinks it would make things weird or would end up having you vulnerable because you don’t know for sure if his compliment is fueled by real interest in you.

“I just don’t hang out with anyone, trust me.”

As a distant church bells toll four times, their echoes drifting across the park, a subtle reminder of the passing time washes over you both. The realization settles in that it’s time for you to go. You should be back in front of the museum in half an hour.

Luckily, Billy saves you from answering as he breaks eye contact and looks up beyond your shoulder, where the church is. “We should go,” he says.

As you walk back to the museum, you think about his words. Now you realize that you didn’t see him hanging around Tommy Hagan lately. In particular, today on the bus, the latter was seated with his girlfriend and hung out with two other members of the basketball team. Billy was somewhere else the whole time.

When you two reach the museum, the teacher is already counting everyone to make sure the whole class is there. Billy joins his mates, elbowing one of them in a friendly gesture. You didn’t fail the notice the looks most of your classmates shot at you when he saw you two arrive together. The teacher draws the class's attention back to the trip, prompting feedback and reflections from everyone.

What you don’t expect either once on the bus, is feeling someone sitting on the empty seat next to yours. Billy gets comfortable, making it seem something so normal as he stretches his long legs as far as the cramped quarters allow. His thigh brushes against yours and your heart jumps a little in your ribcage, but a few minutes later you start to relax. You can’t help the feeling of warmth spreading through your chest as you take in his choice to sit deliberately next to you. You don’t need to fill the silence, or at least not as strongly as a few hours ago. You’re also quite tired. As you venture a glance in his direction, Billy’s eyes are closed. It seems you’re not the only one feeling tired. His arms are crossed over his chest but his facial features are totally relaxed now that he’s dozing off, his head resting against the seat. His hair seems soft at the touch, a curl falling unruly on his forehead. You feel the distant urge to wrap it around your finger, brush it from his face. There is a difference between now and when he’s fully awake: his expression softened, his gaze peaceful, and his features relaxed. It's a stark contrast from the demeanor you've observed from a distance, where his smile is more wolfish, his facial muscles tense, and his eyes often distant or bored. You force yourself to look away from him, setting your gaze on the window. As the rhythmic hum of the bus lulls you into a state of drowsiness, you feel your eyelids grow heavy. The warmth of the moment envelops you, and soon, you find yourself dozing off as well.

Once you get off the bus, you wrap your arms around your waist as you shiver. The weather is distinctly different. It seems to have been raining all day. The sky is darkening. School buses cannot take you home because there is no bus stop near your house. Forest Hill Trailer Park is in the isolated part of Hawkins. There is no one from the high school living there, so you can't ask anyone for a ride. It's not like anyone would have offered anyway. You've always walked to and from school, in total it takes you forty minutes. As you start to walk away from the bus, you hear footsteps behind you and Billy is at your side, effortlessly catching up with you. You realize his car is parked a few steps away from you. The gleaming navy blue Camaro stands out among the other cars, ‘CALIFORNIA’ on the license plate.

You take the opportunity to thank him before he can dart away and you will probably never exchange another word again.

“Hey,” you start, turning to look at him. “I just wanted to thank you for paying at lunch today.”

Billy plays with the lighter, making it bounce in his hand. “It’s nothing. How are you getting home?”

“Oh, I’m walking.” you point your thumb at the road on your left.

“Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Your mouth opens and closes stupidly, then your brain finally decides to cooperate. Accepting his offer feels like taking advantage of his kindness. You don't want to do this. “I…it’s not a long walk, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably gonna rain soon.” he points at the sky, walking past you and toward the parked car.

“You don’t have to.” you insist, guilt filling my stomach as he opens the passenger door for you.

“I know.” he chuckles.

The soft thrumming of a rock song fills the air, the bass pulsing gently as Billy lowers the volume as soon as he turns the engine on. The interior of the Camaro envelops you in a world that feels distinctly his. The smell of leather fills your senses, mingling with the faint scent of his cologne. It's clear that he takes immense pride in his car and the care and attention he devotes to it reflects on the interior. The leather seats feel soft and smooth. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, even in the corners. A pair of aviators rests on the dashboard.

You give him directions, your voice cutting through the quiet ambiance of the car. He nods in acknowledgment, his gaze focused on the road ahead. His left arm casually drapes against the window, while his other hand firmly grasps the top of the steering wheel.

“It’s quite a walk,” he observes as the Camaro speeds through the road surrounded by the woods.

“Yeah…”

You’re thinking of asking him to stop before getting to Forest Hill, but it’s pouring and you don’t have an umbrella. As you get closer and closer, anxiety starts rippling through you. You shake the feeling out of your head. You’re being ridiculous, there’s nothing to be ashamed about. Additionally, you barely know him. You try and distract yourself, asking him about where he lives instead.

“Cherry Lane. You know where it is?”

“Yes, it’s a nice and quiet area. It’s not that far from school either,” you observe.

Billy absently scratches his chin, the glint of a silver braided ring catching your eye. “Yeah. It’s quiet, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself wondering about its significance. Does it have one? You've heard numerous accounts of Billy's involvement in fights at parties, tales of the severe injuries sustained by those who crossed him, and the ferocity of his punches. How many times has that ring been tainted with someone else's blood? Despite the rumors surrounding his aggressive behavior, your interactions with Billy have always been positive. He's consistently shown kindness to you.

Billy turns left, veering off the main road onto a narrow side road, the tires crunching on the gravelly dirt path that winds its way towards Forest Hills. The rain drums insistently against the car, a steady rhythm punctuating the silence between you.

The first trailer emerges into view, its weather-beaten exterior casting a shadow of foreboding over your already uneasy mind. Despite your discomfort, you muster the courage to speak up, directing Billy to continue driving until the end of the road.

You steal a furtive glance at him, searching for any hint of judgment in his expression, but Billy remains impassive. There's no trace of surprise or disdain in his features. His gaze lingers on the scene before you, studying it with a detached curiosity that seems to characterize his view of Hawkins as a whole.

“Thanks again for today, really. I wanna pay you back,” you venture as he slows down.

Billy waves a dismissive hand before settling it on the gear shift, smoothly transitioning into first gear. “I told you it’s no big deal. Wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

You worry at your lip, still not totally convinced. You glance at him. “I know that. But it doesn’t sound fair. It’s important to me.”

Billy's gaze shifts to the road ahead as he seemingly considers your words. "If you really wanna make it up to me," he starts, his voice trailing off for a moment before he continues, "How about you show me around Hawkins sometime?"

You blink, caught off guard by his suggestion. "Show you around Hawkins?"

"Yeah," he nods, resting his forearm loosely on the steering wheel as he gestures while he talks. "I've only been here a short while, and I don't really know my way around outside downtown yet. Like, all the places you talked to me about. The lake, the quarry."

The idea appeals to you, though the thought of spending more time with him outside of school never crossed your mind. The fact of spending time with him in the first place was out off the charts for you. "Sure, I could do that," you reply, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I mean, I'm not exactly a tour guide, but I could show you some cool spots. Whenever you want, uhm. Yeah.”

Billy reaches out to the compartment on the passenger side, brushing your knee with his arm. He opens it and extracts a pen.

“Here,” he takes off the cap with his teeth, and before you know it he’s taking your arm, gently lifting your sweater sleeve.

You try to look unfazed by his touch, though the feeling of his fingertips pressing gently against your skin as he holds your forearm, the sensation of the pen as he writes something on it makes you shiver, raising goosebumps. You look at him in silent confusion as he writes, his dark lashes brushing his cheekbones, a glimpse of pearly white teeth and a sharp canine as he holds the cap between them. Then he releases your arm, and you take a look at it while he takes the cap from his mouth. A series of numbers are written in blue ink on your skin. A phone number.

“Oh.” you say softly. You definitely haven’t expected that.

“Call me when you feel like it.”

It’s really hard for you to hide your nervousness, acting as cool as you can.

“Okay, will do.” you unbuckle your belt, glancing at him enough to give him a soft smile.

Billy nods at you in silent farewell before you close the passenger door. “Have a good night”.

“You too. Bye.”

The warmth of Billy's presence lingers in the car as you step out into the cool, damp air, the raindrops falling softly around you. Closing the door behind you, you watch as the sleek navy blue Camaro disappears down the little road and into the woods from the small window of the living room. As you stand there, the drops of water falling from the end of your hair, you can't help but brush at the phone number on your forearm, tracing the neat handwriting with your fingertips. It's like you're still trying to wrap your head around what just happened. Though you're trying to keep it under control, you can't help the fluttering feeling in your heart.

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ferie-anon · 1 year

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🐚 Aspects & asteroid observations etc 🐚

🍵 I notice people with bella asteroid (695) in sagittarius tend to be known for their bigger figure and curvy for females, as sag rules the booty. Men with this placement could have broader shoulders and look athletic or look fit. Btw the bella asteroid (695) can show you where ur “beauty” is.

🍵 Bella asteroid in virgo tend to have an “earthly”/natural and warm beauty. Their skin could be tanned or just have a warm undertone. They could have big doe eyes, from the ones I’ve seen that has this placement.

Bella asteroid in libra or 7th house may be known for their harmonious facial features.

🍵 Moon in 9th/sag tend to space out at times I notice, or they don’t recall certain details/events at times if they don’t remember anything memorable of it.

🍵 Venus trine neptune falling for morally grey characters? 👀

🍵 Nymphe (875) in leo in conjunct the ascendant may have luscious and wavy hair or their hair is ethereal/pretty to others.

🍵 Jupiter conjunct asc = big chest + booty 👯‍♀️ tho I’m sure ppl alrdy know that 🧍‍♀️

Difference between pluto negatively aspecting ascendant vs positively aspecting:

Me having pluto square ascendant and ppl finding it a bit hard to approach irl becuz I look quiet and studious and isolated (pluto square asc ppl are private and keep to themselves)

While my friend has pluto sextile ascendant and people finding her interesting and easy to talk to, cuz shes kinda quiet but also wants to make friends/experience the fullest of life (pluto sextile asc makes them more comfortable and confident in their power and making them magnetic and able to understand others in a deeper and different way).

Also I have another friend who has pluto square asc and ppl think she’s judgy/intimidating or looks to be a critical person at first glance/impression, even tho shes actually chill and friendly. So sometimes they don’t approach at first till they find out shes nice actually.

Random moon sign analysis:

🍵 Interestingly I have two friends with moon in 9th house but they don’t act the same. One of them has virgo moon in 9th house at 15 degrees (gemini degree), and the other has gemini moon in 9th house at 19 degrees (libra degree). Both moon signs are in mutable signs and house(while the degrees are different), but I feel the degrees slightly change the way they process and interpret information. The one with the gemini degree in her moon in 9th tend to be a bit “scattered” and have random unusual but creative and funny ideas, whereas my friend with libra degree in her moon in 9th seems to be more calm and just going with the flow with her thinking and balanced with her side and processing what others are saying to add to it. Since libra degree is cardinal energy, so her process of thinking is more direct.

It could also be becuz the two moon signs are inherently different in their process since virgo moon is more practical but also tries to retain and have a lot going thru their head, while gemini moon’s brains easily access and connect a lot of things in their head at that moment or just intuitively/ gemini moons thinkings are less filled with overthinking as they are not focused on the effects but the "possibilities".

🖋️ Mars at 0 degrees would lash out or have a lot of anger in them. If u tick them off or they feel disrespected, their anger can be volatile or hurtful.

🖋️ Saturn in 4th house could indicate to a difficult childhood or a family life of feeling disconnected or alone at times. One of my friends has this in her natal chart and her family dynamics is complicated, as she feels distant with her father and step-mom, while her birth mother and grandma lives in another country and she feels closer with them.

🖋️ I notice if theres gemini in the big 3 and earth placements in the big 6 together, they may be interested in getting tattoos on their body. For eg. Taurus sun with gemini moon and venus, they may think of getting meaningful word tattoos on their neck. (Eg. Ricky from boys planet has a tattoo on his neck with the word rolemodel on it) meanwhile sung hanbin from boys planet has a word/quote tattoo on his inner part of his arm and he has a sun and moon tattoo around the center of his collarbone/chest (hanbin has a gemini sun pisces moon with taurus venus)

I just notice that if theres gemini and earth placements in there, they’re likely interested in getting tattoos over their upper body, like arm, neck, or back. I think the moon sign can heavily influence where they put the tattoos and wut type of tattoos. Pisces moon may be more visual and may have tattoos of objects that are symbolic to them. Gemini moon may tend to get a quote they find meaningful or a fancy word tattoo. Capricorn moon may have their tattoos around areas of their joints, area wheres theres bone structure to support like the back since capricorn rules the skeletal system.

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familyvideostevie · 9 months

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takin' a breath

for @strangerfreaks <3 simply put, you love being in love with sirius black. you just never realized other people noticed all that much. | fluff, established relationship, the general idea that love is lovely, 1.8k

No matter how many times you check your watch, the hands don't tick backwards. You're going to be late.

Nothing to be done about it, you suppose. Sirius is always late, anyway, though he'd texted you he was on the train so he might arrive at the bar before you. Your own train slows and the speaker reads out your station in a clipped tone. You step on to the platform and the strangest thing happens -- the air changes, somehow. Like someone is looking at you. In the moment before you turn around you hear your name in a voice you know very well and when you do turn, there he is.

"Were we on the same train?" Sirius asks as people stream past you towards the exit. "I don't think this has ever happened to me before."

"Different cars," you say.

"Fancy that." He holds out his arm once he reaches you and you hook yours through it and head towards the escalators. "You look lovely," he says. "Are we late?"

"Well, you're always late," you remind him. He rolls his eyes. "I meant to be there ten minutes ago." Sirius smooths down the collar of your coat and you allow yourself to admire him.

You never get tired of his face -- he's handsome in an edgy way, a way that makes you look away at first and then draws you back in. You're very familiar with how he looks by now. The slope of his nose, the intense line of his eyebrows and the length of his lashes. His eyes are dark, deep, mysterious. The rings in his nose and his ears stand out, gold against his otherwise dark features, and his hair begs for you to run your fingers through it.

He tolerates your staring. You know he likes it but you're kind enough not to call him out. "Remus texted me that they're all going to be at least a half hour. Bus is stuck in traffic."

You step off the escalator and emerge onto the street, the chill of the fall evening wrapping around you both. You press a bit closer to him. "Guess it's just us for now."

He hums. "How was your day?"

"Nothing of note. You?"

Sirius turns into you a little bit to speak as a truck passes. He smells like tobacco and the spicy cologne you bought him for his birthday. "By lunch I was ready to get out of there."

"You always are."

He's always on the go, your boyfriend, always looking for the next thing. Everyone who knew him before you met tells you the same thing -- he's wild, spontaneous, full of energy, but with you, he seems to become a centered version of himself. Not like you've changed him, not quite, but like he feels it's okay to slow down because you're around. He takes a breath, lets the somewhat permanent scowl settle into something calmer. You feel it too, like being near him is the most natural thing in the world. Puzzle pieces that fit, magnets that snap together, every cliche in the book fits.

The night is quiet, for the most part, so when you finally get to the bar and go inside the noise is a bit jarring. There's music and chatter, the clink of glasses and chairs scraping on the floor as they're pulled to new tables. You head for the bar and unwind your arm from Sirius's. He makes grabby hands so you undo your coat and turn around, shaking it off and into his arms.

"Do you want me to do drinks or find a table?" he asks, breath hot on your cheek as he leans in to ask.

"I'll do drinks," you say. "You got them last time. Do you want the usual?" He nods, squeezes your elbow and heads off to find a table with a wink.

You wait patiently and wonder what you're going to order. Sirius always gets a pint of whatever dark beer they have on tap and you'll take a sip even though you never like it that much. Maybe it's a wine night? Bit weird to get a glass of wine in a bar like this and surely James will tease you for it when he gets here, but it's a bit cold out and it sounds warming --

"Excuse me?" You look around to see if someone's just addressed you and find a girl about your age at your side. Her eyes are bright and her face flushed and she's holding a pint. Clearly she's a bit further along in her night than you are.

"You alright?" you ask her. She nods frantically.

"Was that your boyfriend?" she asks, the words tumbling out of her like she has to ask you or she'll combust.

"Uh, yes," you say. Bit weird, but alright.

"He's so handsome," she says. Her tone is the one that girls use in the bathroom at the club when they compliment each other, like she's so happy for you and wants to share in your good fortune.

You smile. "He is," you agree.

"And the way he looks at you!" She sighs like she's reading from a romance novel. What is she on about? He was beside you for mere minutes.

"He's got a bit of a stare."

The girl shakes her head, a few pieces of her bangs falling in her face. "No, I mean yes, but you guys were just standing here and I looked over and it was like he was..." She waves her hand in the air, her beer sloshing dangerously close to the edges of her glass. "He was orbiting around you, or something. The air was crackling, I swear."

You really should ask what she's having so you can get a glass too, whatever will make you feel her enthusiasm.

She puts her hand on your arm. "It's just so nice," she says. "To see love like that."

Her words take you by surprise. No one has ever articulated your relationship like that, so matter of fact. "Thank you," you tell her genuinely.

She beams at you and then seems to catch sight of her friends, giving your arm a squeeze before darting off into the crowd.

"Alright then," you mutter. "Wow." The bartender finally takes your order and you mull over this kind girl's words as you wait. You've always thought that you and Sirius were well suited. Both of you are quite private, guarded in front of people you don't know but endlessly loyal to those you do. He has always made you feel like a priority even when you've fought. Very early on you realized that he was an all-in kind of guy -- he laid his feelings out and promised you that if you felt the same he'd give you everything he could. And he has, even though you don't need much. His hand on your back, his voice in your ear when you wake, his smile across the room. Just being next to him has always been enough. You've just never known how to articulate it, how this kind of love is everything you've wanted for yourself.

You manage not to spill your drinks as you try to find Sirius. He's gotten a table in the corner that will easily fit your friends once they arrive, but for now you slide into the seat next to him.

He beams at you, a toothy grin that makes him look younger, and puts his hand on your knee under the table. "Thank you, darling," he says.

You lean into his side. "Good table." He takes a sip of his beer and nods his agreement. "A girl at the bar said the strangest thing to me," you blurt out. You don't know how you're going to explain this to him but you want to tell him. You always want to tell him everything.

"Oh?" He's got a bit of a foam mustache but he wipes it before you can.

"She said I had a handsome boyfriend."

Sirius scoffs. "You do." You roll your eyes.

"But she also said that --" you use air quotes -- "it was nice to see a love like ours."

His face goes very soft, almost like the way he looks first thing in the morning when you wake to find him watching you. "Very poetic," he murmurs.

"I don't totally know what she means," you admit. "But it was a nice thing to say. I think she might have been a bit drunk."

"Oh, I know what she means," he says. You raise your eyebrows, telling him to go on. Sirius blinks a few times, scratches the back of his neck. You know him well enough to know that he's nervous, which is a bit rare. He leads with confidence, oozes with it, but he's told you many times one of the things that he never gets tired of is how you can crack that exterior.

"It's like when we're in the same room and everything shifts," he says. "Like tonight. I stepped off the train and knew you were near, you know?"

Oh. "I --yeah," you say softly. You do know. It's like you and Sirius orbit each other, like being near him changes the makeup of the air in a room. Your heart beats in time with his and your very atoms settle when he's near. If you were good with words, if you were a little better at expressing yourself, you'd say that you two are made of the same stuff. Your life before him was great, sure, and by no means were you waiting for him for it to start. But now that he's here, next to you, it's like everything has snapped into focus. It just makes sense.

"I can't believe she noticed, though," he says. His tone is more teasing than sincere now, so you let your own musings fade for now. "I mean, I've barely even touched you! I took your coat! We could have been on a first date!"

"You never touch me that much," you remind him. It's not a scold, it's just how it is. You've never needed to touch him that much. Just his gaze feels like his hands are on you, sometimes. You can always tell when he's looking at you from across the room. Remus once said he was convinced you two could communicate telepathically. You find yourself looking at a doorway moments before Sirius walks through it. He digs out a tissue before you've even felt the tickle in your nose. You can sense each other's distress over the breeze like a bloodhound. It's a bit weird, actually. But you don't know how else to be.

"I can fix that." He winks and slings his arm around your shoulders.

"Don't be annoying." He smacks a kiss to your temple but releases you. You stay close to him, pressed together from shoulder knee. Sirius presses his lips to the shell of your ear and you shiver.

"I love our love, too," he says. What a sap.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfic #marauders fanfic

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ceebit · 2 years

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wc : 0.5k. fluff. not spellchecked aaaaaaaa

note : when will it be my turn. sob

“wonu?”

headset pulled away from one ear, the noiret sneaks a glance downwards from the haze of the multicolored screen before him, gentle flashing lights reflecting in the clear lenses of his glasses. his hands still over the mouse and keyboard, and he lifts one to tug his mic out of the way as the paused screensaver flickers animatedly.

your sleepy mumbles draw his attention like a magnet—curled up in his lap as you burrow yourself as close as humanly possible. nose brushing against the skin that peeks out his hoodie, he can’t help the faint smile that adorns his lips when your eyelids flutter against the incoming lull of sleep.

wonwoo knows it’s late. knows you’ll have to get up early in the morning. work is as demanding as ever, and the both of you need as many recharge hours as you could get—but you were working late, and he couldn’t sleep without the comfort of your weight with him in your shared bed… so he turned to the next best thing.

it’s been hours since then, though. hours since you’ve stumbled home with work tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, since you’d freshened up and gotten ready for bed with a few words shared between you. hours since you dropped your bags at the front door in search of him, always, and allowing yourself to sag into his embrace.

now, your hand curls around the fabric of his hoodie, grey cotton pliant under your fingers, and his heart skips a horrid beat amongst the realization that you trust him enough to let down your walls and be vulnerable with him like this. to let him hold you at your most exhausted, and see you in ways only he can.

“wonu,” you sigh, and shift impossibly closer. his warmth becomes your shared warmth, and the sounds of his friends’ silence in his ear fades to nothingness. “‘m tired,”

“it’s late,” he agrees quietly, apologetic. “sorry.”

you shake your head, rustling against his shoulder, and the content exhale that leaves your lips spreads through his body like a warm breeze. “s’okay. you can finish your game, i know chan must be wondering what’s holding you.”

he huffs a laugh at chan’s quiet affirmative through the headset but can’t bring himself to unpause the game. wonwoo rubs your back soothingly, head resting atop yours, and contemplates going to bed. you’re home now, meaning he could go to bed and rest easy, but…

‘go.’ vernon’s voice shakes him from this thoughts, pulling him back into the present. wonwoo’s gaze falls back to your sleepy form, lashes resting upon your cheeks. ‘i’m sure you’re tired. we’ve got work tomorrow, anyways. go.’

“thanks,” is his quiet reply, mic pulled back in place but still mindful of your tired state. “goodnight, everyone.”

“night,” you add, voice airy with fatigue, and wonwoo smiles faintly at the sound of soonyoung’s complaints about still being single. removing the headset, he’s quick to log out and hoist your form into his arms and slowly pad across the room to bed.

your arms reach for him the second he lays you down in the comfort of linen sheets, drawing him closer until you curve naturally into each other like two fitted puzzle pieces clicking together. he draws miscellaneous shapes into the back of your shirt, head rested atop yours once more, and with shared murmurs of love, he finally allows himself to drift off.

complete masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be added): @candidupped @kim-jvnkyu @lovingdokyeom @wonublr

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glamgamebeauty · 2 years

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How can you choose the ideal set of false eyelashes when you're in a rush, yet nothing less than gorgeous would do because there are so many possibilities available to you? First, think about the occasion. Specific needs will be associated with various event kinds that must be met. Choosing a set that will play to your strengths heavily depends on your eye shape. Additionally, if you select a product that does not enhance the condition of your eyes, you risk ruining the appearance you are going for. For example, the area surrounding the eyes might be dramatic on specific faces but not on others. So when you select a set that isn't suited for you, you risk seeming overdone. To avoid last minute confusion, just opt for natural looking magnetic eyelashes.

#natural looking magnetic eyelashes #natural looking magnetic lashes #natural magnetic lashes

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klutzyroses · 8 months

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IkeVamp HCs: Feminine Energy Reader

How do they react to a feminine reader who is classy, mysterious, magnetic and also plays hard to get?

Suitors: Mozart, Arthur, Theo, Galileo

Mozart

Upon first meeting her, he was his typical icy self, but even so, he could still tell there was something...oddly beguiling about her.

Granted, his initial coldness is met with elegance as she gracefully turns on her heel and leaves the exchange confidently.

An example of this is when he tells her on her first day that he despises her and the commotion she has made with her arrival to the mansion, she merely blinks very slowly, her long lashes brushing her cheeks before those lovely lips parted to coolly respond with;

"Blaming me for not being unable to focus on your work seems to be your own issue of lacking the resolve. You might want to do something about that."

Before turning around without giving him a chance to respond and walking out, her head held high as he stares after her.

He finds it...appealing how she conducts herself with so much poise, yet with full confidence within her femininity.

It actually makes him feel a little...guilty for treating her the way he has. Especially since now, the beautiful woman is acting almost as frosty as himself, yet different. Less outwardly rude and more...classy, so to speak. It gives the impression that he offended a princess or something of that nature.

Her detached politeness is slowly chipped away when he clears the air himself and she very slowly begins to trust him.

Learning different aspects of her personality becomes surprisingly stimulating to the musician as she lets him discover her little by little. The fact that she doesn't offer too much of herself at once made her something of a mystery.

He in turn, opens up a little to her in reciprocation, silently curious to uncover more of her and learn her like a song he has yet to decipher and play. He figures it wouldn't be so bad if he could decode her just a little more...

Arthur

Arthur is intrigued right away. Her gorgeous looks brings the initial attraction, but its her demeanor that hooks him.

Her feminine allure, her delicate body language and soft spoken manner is something he finds quite fetching.

He learns firsthand what a challenge she would be when he first started flirting with her. She had gazed upon him somewhat impassively before her fingers gracefully move the hair framing her sweet face and responding with his flirtation with a prim;

"No thank you, Sir Arthur, I'm sure you can ask one of your admirers. Good day."

Straight shut down. Calm and classy, without being overly cruel or rude, before walking around him to be on her way.

Surprised as he was, that little exchange cemented his interest in her.

After all, being surrounded by women who threw themselves at him was the norm for the mystery author but her? No.

She was far more...composed, enigmatic and effortlessly exuded feminine class.

She never falls all over herself to get his attention, she never has to. She naturally inspires curiosity with her gentle, mysterious charisma. She, without words, lets him know that she is not one to offer her heart at the first sign of interest.

He finds himself enjoying the chase. Pursuing her begins to be quite the fun challenge, especially because Y/N herself tends to tease him by making him work for her trust and rewarding his efforts with little glimpses of her innermost heart.

He finds pleasure in how she allows him to pursue her and her subtle expression of her interest in him by figuratively "dropping the handkerchief" was both encouraging and enticing to Arthur.

She is like a beautifully intricate puzzle box and the author is definitely up to the challenge of unlocking her heart.

Theo

So...he definitely got off on the wrong foot with the mysterious beauty.

Theo being Theo, wasn't quite expecting her to be like this when he first spoke to her. He very quickly learns that, despite her pretty face, Y/N is not to be spoken to like any average woman.

The way she carries herself, dainty and girly, elegant and confident gives him pause. Makes his insults and barbs rest in his head for a little longer than any other woman would.

He feels a little more respect for her, even if he will never say it, but soon, he has little choice in the matter when he first started addressing her as "hondje". When the Y/N caught wind of what that meant, she was quick to issue him an ultimatum.

She turns those soft eyes toward him, without breaking eye contact, in response to whatever rude thing has come out of his mouth and she speaks in a short tone of finality, hinting at her offended disposition.

"Mr Van Gogh, if you have a problem speaking to me with respect or even remembering my name, I suggest you don't speak to me at all."

She turns her lovely self around, smacking him in the face with her hair, though unintentionally, as she walked away, her hips swaying slightly after putting him in his place, without ever raising her voice.

Since then, Theo learns that if he wants the girl to even give him the time of day, he's going to have to pull some verbal punches....alot of punches.

He won't say it, but he respects and admires her for her quiet dignity, her charming confidence and self worth. She isn't arrogant or self important, but she clearly has self respect, he will give her that.

To be so overtly and unapologetically feminine in a mansion full of men is respectable in itself.

Even as they get closer, he is not quite sure what is going on in her beautiful mind, what she is thinking behind that enigmatic smile of hers.

He would like nothing more than the scrub away the paint to uncover just what she is hiding.

The man is an art dealer, so obviously, his philolocalist mind is set on opening her up to him.

Galileo

Being as standoffish as he is, he will admit that the woman is a beauty, more as a fact than something that actually moves him. Even then, it wasn't something he would state aloud.

When he first met her, his first reaction was to tell her to leave, that she was in his way. The woman did not get upset or flustered over his harsh wording or delivery. She doesn't snap at him or pout or fall into an apologetic frenzy.

Instead she leveled him with a strangely inscrutable look in her eyes, quiet for but a moment before those delicate, manicured hands push the girl upright as she stands and speaks evenly.

"I apologize for intruding. Pardon me, Monsieur."

Her soft, calming voice is the only sound in the classroom before she walks away, brushing past him slightly by mistake as she leaves, her intoxicating presence unfortunately left behind as the silent Galileo watches her leave.

He is no fool, he knows full well, despite how composed she was, that the woman was offended by him. Had he been anyone else, he probably wouldn't have realized that because of the respectful and almost regal behaviour she possessed.

Clearly not a woman that wears her heart on her sleeve. He finds himself mildly wondering what she had been thinking when she hadn't responded to him right away. In that moment, she was a mystery to him, a sweet riddle with a lovely face.

He may find himself thinking every now and again of that lovely face with the strange... soft femininity that he found a little difficult to forget.

The world is full of many mysteries, but that woman is just one more to add to the complexities he thought about.

🌸

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp galileo #ikevamp headcanons #ikevamp hcs #ikemen vampire headcanons

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moongumi · 2 years

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⁀➷ ∵ ❝ YOU DUMPED ME BUT YOU'RE STILL MINE ❞

⟶ yuta okkotsu x reader

⟶ cw. drabble, hufflepuff!yuta, slytherin fem!reader, TOXIC, ex to lovers, unprotected sex in public, CHEATING, sub!yuta, quickie, whiny cry baby!yuta

⟶ note: not edited at all : P

the feeling was magnetizing, anytime he'd enter the halls you'd see him. even all the way across the rows and rows of tables. he's so noticeable even if he thinks no one ever notices him, he's far too cute. he doesn't even notice the way all the hufflepuff girls gawk at him when he passes them.

even with the abundance of boys you'd shagged day in and day out, it was nothing like him. you'd never admit it to him, no way, you'd never tell him how much you missed him.

your blood boils seeing his pretty face up against hers. her legs over his lap in the dining hall as she kissed him. in the pits of your guts you hoped to notice him flinch or cringe after the kiss, but it seemed like he enjoyed it. fuck.

days go by, and it gets worse for you. the constant amount of sex doesn't do much to numb the pain. it just reminds you of him.

you find him in the library, he's usually there trying to catch up on his homework. he didn't expect to see you, somehow he remembers her schedule. you were usually in class at this point, alchemy.

he gulps, noticing the way you walked straight to him, eyes full of a look he knew too well.

"does she taste as good as me?" his breath is staggered, face flushed looking up at you with cute puppy eyes.

your fingers fondle the collar of his shirt, pull off his yellow tie and revealing his neck to you. he smells like her, "does she smell like chanel? or cheap drugstore perfume."

your hands press into his thigh, while he sat on the table in the corner of the library with his back being pressed into the bookshelf as he shrinks due to your gaze.

your warm hands make him choke on his saliva. tingling and burning closer and closer to his uncontrollable bulge, growing more and more from the mere sight and touch of you. it had been weeks, almost 2 months without you, your words, your face and your touch.

fuck. he misses the way you smell, perfume strong, spicy just like yourself. your nails are pointed, you never used to do them before. you've got a lot more makeup on than usual, lined wings making your eyes look more ferocious, like you were going to devour him and hell, he was going to let you.

"does she suck your cock like i do?" you purred, your lips lingering on his exposed neck. you can feel his pulse throbbing, his hearts racing. it pleases you, your effect on him makes it even more exhilarating. "does she take all of you, does she take you deep inside her throat until you unravel and cum endlessly like i do?"

he whimpers, his lashes feathered at through his submissive gaze. his lips pouted naturally as he shakes his head, admitting what you wanted to hear.

you bite your lip, palming his cock through his pants at this point listening to his soft moans. he tries to keep it down around all the other students who were studying. who knows where this girlfriend of his was.

your lips mere inches from his, brushing hastily against his plumped bruised lips all from the biting he kept doing to make as little noise as possible. he's whining, making noises nudging and pursing his lips towards yours. wanting it.

you give in, planting your coloured lips against him without a care that your lipstick would be all over his mouth by the end of it. the taste of him, you missed it. you angle your head, holding his with your palms deepening the kiss hearing the low grumble that left his lips as you completely engulfing his lips within your own. tongue curling to the roof of his mouth, exploring what you lost.

his hands found comfort around your waist, pulling you in closer. locking you in. he didn't want to let go, fuck, he wanted you to stay here forever.

"does she ride you like this? does her pussy drench your cock, swallow you up like this? does she fuck you so hard that you start crying and begging to cum, does she? tell me, yuta, use your words." his face is twisted so cutely, trying his hardest not to completely cry out in pleasure.

god knows who could hear or see this. could they see the way he's sat on the ground on his ass, you're sat on his lap with your underwear around your ankles and tights ripped at the crotch, getting fucked in your school skirt? maybe, but it didn't matter. they could watch all they wanted.

your hips roll into his, taking his shaft along your walls dragging and pulling. his girth stretches you raw. he's got tears running down his face as groans escape his lips uncontrollably. so warm, so wet. he can't fucking speak.

your lips curl, knowing he's so close and would start begging soon. "use your words, yuta, you used your words damn well when you dumped me for a discount hufflepuff whore."

he hiccups through his breaths. "i'm sorry."

your ass slaps against his trouser-covered thighs, your mixed arousals spreading all over it. "that's not what i wanted to hear."

"sorry," he chokes, "you're right, she doesn't, she doesn't do anything like you."

"i know. baby, i know."

his eyes flutter, looking up at you. the girl he dumped for absolutely no reason but fear. he feared he wasn't good enough for you. but hell, you treated him so well, he didn't even think about his girlfriend, he didn't think of the consequences at all. only of you.

#☾ ⟶ koemi drabbles #yuta okkotsu #yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta angst #yuta smut #yuta okkotsu smut #yuta okkotsu angst #hp x jjk #sub!yuta #bottom!yuta #tw.cheating #tw.toxic #fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut

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watercolorfreckles · 5 months

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Winter's Kiss - Part 2

Sorry I'm rusty but I had a nice time working on this!

Part 1

Most people assumed that having ice powers meant Villain was immune to the cold. Surely being surrounded by her element only comforted and empowered her further.

What it really meant was that Villain had never truly been warm in her life. Always haunted by a biting chill that rooted in her bones and flooded her veins.

The summer months were easy enough for her to stay regulated in. Her body naturally fended off the scathing blaze of summer sun, meeting something close enough to equilibrium that she didn't have to shiver.

Winter was different. The scales dipped in one, unanimous direction. There was nothing to balance the overwhelming cold, steely and all-encompassing.

Thus, fighting on an icy rooftop, bitter wind stinging her cheeks, and frost clinging to her lashes, did not put her in a particularly amiable mood.

“Shouldn't you be wearing a coat?” she snapped at her nemesis, fighting off the urge to tremble as ice shot to life in her numbed palms.

Hero landed neatly in front of her, blushy nose and pink ears the only indicator that the weather affected him at all. His lips bloomed in a too-pleased smile. “Nope. The new suit has intelligent thermal-regulatory technology. In other words, I'm toasty as…uh…toast. Shouldn’t you?”

Villain’s gaze flicked over him. She could see, now, the steam radiating around him from his stupid heated costume.

Her skin ached for a taste of that kind of blanketing warmth.

A coat did her little good when the cold stemmed from the inside out. She hated him for it. Her glare was as sharp as the icicles in her hands.

Hero stepped closer and his smug smile faltered. He looked her over in turn. “Are you….cold?”

If she could glare any harder, her eyes would bleed.

“My entire existence is cold, I have never not been cold,” she said through clenched teeth. “Now let's wrap this up, Sunshine, so that I can go home and set the thermostat to 85° and hope that maybe, just maybe, I can take the edge off this- this corpse-numb, never-ending, godforsaken winter!”

Her bones felt only distantly attached to her body, dull and torpid as a rotting log.

She took a step toward him and her knees buckled beneath her. Hands caught her waist, lowering her to the ground.

Her breath caught up in lungs scraped raw, mind sweeping blank. All she could focus on was the delightfully warm palms against her sides.

“Villain?” Hero’s brow knitted in concern. Pulling one of his gloves off with his teeth, Hero touched a hand to Villain's cheek before wincing and shaking the icy sting from his bare fingers. “Sh*t, Villain, you're beyond freezing.”

Villain was barely listening. She reached for him as if magnetized, clutching at the heat emanating from his chest. Something pathetically close to a whimper slipped free at the barest fraction of relief, dropping her face against the blazing hollow of his neck.

Hero hissed against the no-doubt unbearable cold of her skin against his. She couldn’t bring herself to care, and he didn’t shove her away.

There was a pause.

“.....Let the record show that you’re the one cuddling me this time.”

Villain scowled. “Shut up.” Her fingers flexed against the smooth fabric of his suit. “This is- is just temporary, and then I’m going to stab you in the face.”

Fingers stroked her hair, brushing the accumulating snowflakes away. There was a click and shuffle as Hero shifted, wrapping her trembling form up in his cape.

“Stab me tomorrow. We’ll rain check.” Scooping her into his arms, Hero stood up.

“Hey-”

“Don’t worry, babe.” Hero’s stupid sunny smile was back, teasing and prettier than she cared to admit. “We’re nemeses with benefits, I don’t actually want you dead. Most of the time.”

Villain’s cheeks might have warmed if she could feel them. Her teeth chattered. “Sp- Speak for yourself, Sunshine. And don’t say nemeses with benefits. You’re em- embarrassing me.”

Hero’s feet lifted off of the ground and they were moving through the air. Villain glanced down at the world below them before shielding her face from the abusive wind with his cape.

He could drop her to shatter on the pavement. Fragile as ice.

They touched down minutes later, and Villain didn’t bother to pull the cape away from her face to check where they were. Maybe if she pretended to be asleep, Hero wouldn’t put her down… She couldn’t imagine peeling herself away from the shallow reprieve of his body warmth.

Hero shifted Villain’s weight into one arm. Metal jangled, followed by the rustling of a doorknob. Pushing it open with his foot, she felt Hero cross the threshold.

Peeking through the threads of Hero’s cape, warm lamplight washed the room in a honey glow as he clicked on the light. He shut the door and locked it.

Her ears perked up at the familiar crackle of flames dancing nearby. She tugged the cape down just below her eyes, still blanketing her nose and cheeks.

Hero chuckled. “That got your attention.” He pulled a chair in front of the fireplace and sat down with her puddled in his lap. His free hand smoothed back her hair, staticky from his cape. “Better?”

The glorious heat rolled over them in waves, and Villain bared her pink fingers toward it, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmm.”

Lips summer-hot and gentle pressed against her jaw. Warmth sparked low in her belly for an entirely new reason. Her breathing stuttered, turning her face toward his.

Hero took an icy hand in his, blowing warm breath against her knuckles.

The bone-deep ache began to thaw. Her eyes glued to his.

Her beautiful, insufferable,.. kind idiot.

She leaned in. “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

A haughty and fond smile lit up his face. “Kill me when winter ends.”

Eyes flitting down to his perfect mouth, Villain caught his searing lips with her own. They chased the chill away together.

Neither of them wanted winter to end.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers, @distance-does-not-matter @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @thelazywitchphotographer @chibicelloking, @lolafaiy, @thinkwrite5, @putridghost @tobeornottobeateacher @sunflower1000 , @bouncyartist , @feyriddle, @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1, @distractedlydistracted @pensivespacepirate, @appleejuicee, @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles , @vuvulia, @amongtheonedaisy, @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @scorpio-smiles , @inkygemuwu , @wolfeyedwitch , @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo , @lem-hhn , @fanastywhump , @smallangryfish , @ladybookworm @freefallingup13 , @acaiaforrest , @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict , @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover , @deckofaces ,@7eselt , @annablogsposts , @lunatic-moss-studio , @medusas-hairband

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itsjusthockey · 10 months

Text

Playdate - Mat Barzal

This man does things to me

Warning: NSFW (first time ever, hope it doesn't suck)

wc: 2,513 (credit to gif maker)

Feed me. Send in requests and give thoughts

You know from across the room he isn’t a good person. Someone who looks like that can’t be. His appearance alone seems to broadcast this verdict, a beguiling countenance that you can't help but be captivated by its enigmatic allure.

He’s gorgeous. So naturally, you’re curious about him. His casual demeanor exudes an air of confidence. He’s got that suave disposition, enhanced by a sexy half-smirk and eyes that hold an almost magnetic quality as if they could sway your every inclination.

You want to get close to him, to scrutinize those eyes up close and determine whether their impact would be enough to unravel your very foundation. And as fate would have it, a twist of coincidence steers your group toward the bar, positioning you conveniently beside his presence. Amidst the bustling crowd, circumstances bring you into proximity, placing you so close that his back is stiff against yours. The occasional accidental contact sends electric thrills coursing through you.

“What’re you gonna get?”

Your best friend's question solicits your attention and guides your gaze toward the bartender standing at your side. Your patient contemplation coincides with the bartender taking the giant order from the men beside you.

“Can we get six of these,” the near god of a man next to you holds up a beer, “and three shots of whiskey.”

The bartender nods and starts making the drinks, and in a moment of calculated daring, you decide to orchestrate your first move of the evening. A faint, deliberate graze of your fingertips against his arm is executed with finesse. Then your sudden withdrawal from the contact is masked by an apologetic smile and a sweet “I’m sorry” that dons in the air with charming modesty.

Of course, the gesture sparks his attention, prompting him to focus entirely on you. The impact is staggering – he manages to nearly take your breath away. He is almost unfairly attractive, and it elicits a sense of disbelief, as though it shouldn’t be possible.

“Don’t worry about it,” His gaze sweeps over you in a way that is far from subtle, leaving a trail of appreciation in its wake. A beckoning hand extends toward you. "I'm Mat.”

You shake the outstretched hand and lean a little closer to him. “Hi Matt, I’m (Y/N).”

With another lingering look at you and a glance at your friends behind you, a sly smile and a glint of mischief cross his features.

"What's your poison?" he inquires, the question laden with suggestion. You also don’t miss when he subtly elbows his friend behind him.

“What do you suggest?” You bat your lashes.

He lets out a light chuckle and throws out a couple of options, and after a minute of weighing the possibilities, you decide. Seconds later, the bartender returns with their order, and Mat orders the rest of the drinks, handing over a black card that catches your attention.

“Amex, really?”

He signs for the drinks and sends you a slightly shy smile. The night progresses, and the connection between you and Mat deepens, fueled by laughter and electric tension that hangs in the air. The playful touches exchanged become bolder, and every time he gives you those eyes, your stomach turns.

He also reveals he plays hockey, and you can't help but be captivated by the mental image of him in a jersey, his body glistening with sweat. The room grows warmer as your thoughts stray to uncharted and impure territories.

In a moment of playful curiosity, you ask, "So, are you any good?"

Mat's response is nonchalant, accompanied by a modest shrug. "I'm alright."

However, his friend Tito scoffs and chimes in, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "He's more than alright, he's fucking fantastic."

You can't help but raise an amused eyebrow, your gaze flickering between Tito and Mat. The camaraderie between the two friends is evident, and Mat's blush only adds to the charm.

“I mean, clearly, he’s a little bit interested because normally, he’s the most cocky dude I’ve ever met. You’ve got him being all modest and shit.”

Mat rolls his eyes far back.

“And I’m also sure that he really wants to show you his moves, he’s got great stamina and a fantastic-“

“Okay, Tito,” Mat almost panics, sending his friend a semi-glare and shooing him away.

Tito puts his hands up in mock surrender, winking at you and clinking glasses with yours and then moving to talk with your friend behind you.

You continue to talk with Mat for a while when you both realize that the bar's atmosphere is beginning to ebb, and you’re feeling about ready to leave. Yet, you’re unsure if you want to go alone, and your gaze meets Mat's with an unspoken question.

"I should probably get going.“

“Yeah,” he pauses. “Want company?”

You nod frantically and beeline to the exit, Mat trailing behind you. You leave the bar and enter the open air, making your way toward your apartment.

When you arrive, you’re quick to fumble out your keys, and you can feel Mats's burning stare. Once you unlock the door, you rush inside. Mat follows in, briefly looks around, and then locks his eyes on yours. You see his gaze flick down to your lips, and you can feel the silent invitation.

You both pause momentarily, almost unsure what to do, when Mat closes the distance between you. He pushes you gently into the door, and your lips meet for the first time. As soon as his lips mold into yours, it ignites the passion you've both been skirting around all evening.

With each passing second, you want more, and the intensity deepens, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. Mat responds eagerly, his arms encircling your waist, pulling you closer. The soft press of his body against yours only fuels the growing need that courses through you both.

You stay by the door for a minute longer until the heat between you becomes unbearable. You feel Mat's hand slide up your shirt and on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You genuinely feel like you’re about to die, so you pull away, breathing heavily and locking eyes with Mat, whose hues have grown darker.

Mat speaks first, “Bedroom?”

The immediate answer should be yes, but you’re not the type to have a one-night stand. Yet, as if you’re on autopilot, you nod and lead him toward your room.

Once inside, Mat doesn’t waste any time. He grabs your hips, tugging you into him. He’s not gentle; he knows what he wants to happen, but his fingers are soft as he gently squeezes your sides.

You continue to mold together, his hands gliding up your back until he cups the back of your neck.

“Are you sure?”

You nod fervently, deciding against any logic. He smiles again and begins nipping on your neck. This feeling makes you putty in his hands. You’re almost positive he can feel the gulp you swallow, tilting your head to the side to give him more access to the spot you love.

He continues the assault on your neck, and you whimper out, which only seems to spur him on. He’s quick to unzip your top as you find yourself unlatching his belt. You hear it come loose, and a smirk takes over his face when you grab the zipper and pull it down.

In one bold move, you place your hand in his pants, and Mat moans against your lips, forcing your head to tilt back so that he can kiss you even harder.

You gently squeeze him outside his boxer briefs, and you note that he is already hard, and you can't help but let your ego go a bit. But you refuse to waste time, so you slide your hand past the elastic waistband of his underwear and grab hold of him.

“Holy fuck.” He swears.

You concentrate and watch Mat's face as you gently grab him at the base and his breath shallows. You trail your thumb along his length to gauge his reaction before slowly sliding your hand up and down.

After a few pumps, Mat places one hand beside his head, palm flat against the wall, to support himself. In his other hand, he’s digging into your hips, surely leaving bruises.

"Feel good?" You ask, brushing your lips against his earlobe.

His head drops to your shoulder as you continue to pump him at a steady pace, and you can feel him nodding into your neck. You love that you have him like this, at your whim. But it doesn’t last long when he manages to find the strength to pause his breathy curses to whisper in your ear, "I can’t wait any longer.”

At record speed, you both discard the rest of your clothing, and he practically throws you onto your bed. In a swift motion, his chest is pressed flat against your back, and he snakes around your hips, feeling to see if you’re ready for him as he is ready for you.

“Fuck, baby.” Mat moans, gently kissing your shoulder as he slides a finger inside you.

He works his way a few times, curling inside you while his thumb presses against your clit. You almost feel it’s getting too much when he removes his fingers and frantically searches for his jeans.

You watch, somewhat impatient, as he digs for his wallet, opens it, and finally pulls out a condom.

As if he never left, he pulls you forward, hungrily kissing you before gripping your ass. With your arms around his neck, you smile as you feel his hardness between you. He quickly hooks one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you close to his chest as he slowly places you down on the mattress.

“Ready?" he asks huskily with his forehead pressed against yours.

You nod, breath spent as you feel him against your thigh, "Yes."

Finally, after hours of anticipation, he guides himself inside of you, crawling up your torso as he pushes in inch by inch. Your eyes instinctively close, your jaw drops at the sensation of feeling this close to him, and you release a satisfied hum.

You feel Mat's breath on your cheek as he grabs your hip with one hand, steadying you before pulling out almost all the way. You want to groan at the loss of contact, but your breath is stolen when he slams back in.

“Holy shit," you breathe out, almost not believing a man could make you feel this way. “It’s so good.”

With your praise, the amusement in his eyes vanishes as he lets out deep breaths through his nostrils. He adopts a steady rhythm, neither too fast nor too slow, but the force he thrusts into you has you quickly feeling like you are going over the edge.

You dig your nails into his back, and when he spreads your legs even wider, the sensation he makes you feel becomes even more intense. You bite the inside of your cheek, but you can’t help but beg him for more.

“There we go,” Mat says through broken breaths, not flinching when your nails scratch his back. “Are you close?"

Whimpering, you nod, and Mat grasps your hips and practically lifts them off the bed for each hard thrust. You are barely able to see straight and feel entirely out of control. You feel on fire, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to hold onto the feeling of how he feels buried inside of you.

You were gone when you could no longer assist in the thrusting and were left disorientated with slow breaths. Mat follows suit, speeding up his pace, driving himself into a state of bliss shortly after, and collapses on top of you.

The room seems to pulse with the echoes of your shared passion as you both catch your breath, locked in an intimate embrace. For a moment, time seems to stand still, and the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you intertwined in the aftermath.

As your breathing begins to steady, Mat shifts, his weight shifting off you and onto the bed beside you. He rolls onto his back, his chest heaving as he gazes at the ceiling. You turn your head to the side, your eyes meeting his, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

Mat reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. There's a quiet tenderness in his gaze, a vulnerability you hadn't expected, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone.

After a moment, Mat clears his throat, "That was... incredible."

A surge of emotion wells up within you, and you can't help but agree. "Yeah, it was."

For a minute longer, you both lie in silence, the heaviness of the moment hanging in the air. But eventually, Mat shifts again, sitting up on the edge of the bed. You watch as he starts to gather his clothes, and a pang of uncertainty hits you. The reality of the situation dawns on you.

As Mat dresses, you sit up, wrapping the sheets around yourself. Your heart races, a mix of desire and apprehension swirling within you. You want to say something, to reach out and ask him to stay, but the words stick in your throat.

Finally dressed, Mat turns to you, his expression unreadable. He steps closer, his fingers brushing against your cheek again, but this time, the touch feels different. It almost seems like a touch of farewell, of a shared moment that won’t ever happen again.

“Hey," he says softly, his eyes searching yours. "That was fucking amazing, but I have to go find Tito.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart aches at the thought of him leaving. Yet, you nod and watch as he goes. Leaving as quickly as he entered your life. You hear the door click shut behind him, and a small piece of your heart cracks.

You're suddenly overwhelmed with a mix of emotions as Mat walks out of your apartment. You know you felt something, the intensity of your encounter lingering, but now there's a bitter aftertaste.

Sitting alone in your sheets, slight anger replaces the immediate loneliness. How could he just leave? And how could you be so stupid to think he’d stay?

You spend the next hour cleaning up and thinking way too much. Half of you want to forget this ever happened, but the other half desires revenge. You want to prove that you're not someone to be brushed aside so easily. Your mind races for the rest of the night. Plotting on how you can turn the tables and make him feel the same longing and frustration he left you with.

#hockey #hockey boys #imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine #hockey x reader #nhl hockey #nhl x reader #mat barzal #new york islanders #nhl fic #nhl #nhl players #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine

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lululandd · 7 months

Text

rabid; (iv.)

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 1,671

warnings: comedy, unhinged topics, ghost has feelings

note: this is the last one i promise, thanks for reading and sticking around :3

summary: “We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

part i. | part ii. | part iii.

“Ghost?” Soap nudged him.

The day was sickly humid, temperature rising by the minute as sweat beaded down his forehead. His mind was somewhere far away when Soap called him, “Yeah. Here.” He replied as he placed a gloved knuckle on his eye, getting rid of the sweat gathering on his lashes.

“We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Ghost sighed deeply at the situation they got themselves into. He looked around the makeshift interrogation room–if they can even call it that–as half of the wall was torn down and there was no roof above them. There could be a UAV coming to pinpoint their location any time now. Soap was right, they don’t have much time.

He stared at his men, all of them looking tired but otherwise alert. He checked his pockets for anything that can be used in an interrogation and took out two of his knives. Gaz and Soap picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly and they handed him pliers, a magnetic pickup tool, while Gromsko and Enzo handed him wire cutters and a swiss knife. To his surprise, Arthur produced a 45° double angle hook from the pocket near where Merlin dangled on his backside.

The man held onto the hook for a moment longer than necessary as Ghost took the item from him, subtly indicating he wanted the item back.

The unnamed Cordis Die member kneeling in front of them stayed silent as Ghost stood in front of him. The others had stayed a little bit away, either keeping watch or just giving them some space. He looked young, late twenties at most, Ghost couldn’t tell very well with all the muck and grime. He crouched down in front of the bound man, asking him in the nicest voice he could muster. When he refused to answer at all, Ghost weighed the items in his hands with vexation as he knows these aren’t the correct tools to make this man talk. His expression didn’t even change when he eyed them in his hands.

He would need to think of something else, and fast.

—

Simon had to hold in his laughter as he loaded his dishwasher, as you and your online friends were onto something wicked which had you laughing and giggling the whole time ever since you started. He heard something about a little celebration but he didn’t quite catch what it was for, but he knows you’re celebrating with a couple drinks.

As he got ready to wind down for the night and crawl into bed for another possibly sleepless night, he perked his ears up to listen in harder on your conversations as you’re getting quieter to probably not disturb him, your only neighbour. It’s cute that you think of him after the soap incident, lowering your voice if you’re going online later in the night. He sort of wishes you didn’t, because of the things he’s gonna miss. Just like tonight’s.

Oh how he would love to hear all the sides of the conversation.

“No, I don’t know what a sheep’s dick looks like. Why would I know what they look like?” A pause. “Nah, I was raised in the city.”

Another info he jolts down in his mind. “Okay. is it more fucked up looking than echidnas?” Simon realised he had no idea what an echidna looks like. He knows what Knuckles—Sonic’s friend—looks like, but not the actual animal. So he googled.

“Man, I really don’t wanna click that link.” He heard you say. He thinks echidnas are cute. They're like pet hedgehogs but with longer snouts and large mole-like paws. He was lost in his thoughts as he scrolled before hearing you squeal out, “No!! What is that! Why does it look…Like that..?” Imagining you wildly gesture at your monitor brought a smile to his face.

Self-restraint was second nature to him at this point, but bloody hell if it didn’t take all of his power to not google what sheep genitalia actually looks like, especially when you continued, “Are you sure you didn't just come across one that’s brok– Oh yeah I see them now. Holyshit they’re all look so fucking mangled.”

Swearing under his breath, Simon typed the words he didn’t want to type onto his search engine. Regret with a capital R hits him and he was too late to hold his voice in and lets out a disgusted noise that was louder than intended.

His notification bar popped up on his phone from you.

SORRY HAHA i was trying to be quieter DID YOU GOOGLE THEM

i did. guess im not sleepin tonight

thats what you get for listening in heheh >:3 maybe you can traumatise your friends with this newfound knowledge?

—

Groaning, he racked his brain on how to word what he was going to say in the most atrocious, horrific, macabre way possible but also came off nonchalant.

He mulled over the thought and dug in the deepest crevice of his vest to produce his phone. Soap fidgeted in his peripherals.

“LT, what tae fuck.”

He heard the tied-up man snort.

Oh. He thinks the Lieutenant in the skull mask is an idiot for bringing his phone to the battlefield. This is a start.

“It’s all right, Sergeant. This is important.”

He powered his phone on, typing his password the moment the screen lit up. The battery showed 62%. It should be more than enough. The sim card was taken out and he had one of the IT staff tinker with it when it was brand new. Opening the gallery and scrolling a little bit, he found the picture he was looking for.

He puts the brightness up to max before talking to the man. “So. Do you know what a sheep’s dick looks like?” Not waiting for an answer, he showed him the picture on his phone. It doesn't look like anything but shredded meat. “Yours will look like this if you don’t tell us what we want.”

Flinching a little, the man tried so hard not to react but Ghost can see him breathing harder.

“I don’t have a picture for the second option, but you’ve heard of anal prolapse, right? It’s when the last bit of your large intestine drops out of your arse. Nasty thing. You can’t control your bowel movement, there’s blood and mucus comin’ out, all that shit.” He handed the tools he was holding over to Arthur, the closest one standing to him. “But did you know there’s a urethra prolapse? I can’t describe it very well because of all the blood but it looks like a lil’ purple doughnut on the tip of your dick. Magenta If I can be fancy with my words.”

Arthur tensed next to him, making the dog let out a distressed whine.

“There will be three choices for you today. One. You tell us the info we need. Two, I mangle your mediocre cock so bad you wish I’d cut it off, or three, I make two doughnuts. Back and front.” He pointed downwards, vaguely to where his crotch is.

“Ghost that's against the Geneva Convention.” Soap spoke up.

The man comically nods.

“Nah. If I start using him as a meat shield out there, then it's against humanitarian laws.” came his cold and calculated answer. “Does he look like he’s surrendered? He’s not even hors de combat. If we do this to him after he gives us good intel, then we'll get tried at the Hague. No. This guy fell into a paper shredder dick first you see. Pure accident.”

Gaz cleared his throat uneasily, realising what could have happened with the raccoons they collected a couple months back. “Ghost…”

He stood up, asking for the tools he handed over earlier. Tilting his head towards the man, he commanded, “Soap, take his pants off.”

It was silent for what seemed like an eternity with no one daring to move before the unfortunate Cordis Die member gritted out the information they needed with what looked like hot tears in his eyes. Soap relayed the info to Laswell while they moved to a more secure place, preferably with a roof and all four walls intact.

Arthur spoke up for the first time as they checked their weapons and placed all their tools back in their respective pockets. He walked closer to the man, “Y’ Should learn about humanitarian laws, does a lot of good in these situations.”

“Oh come oan Arthur, why tae fuck are you teachin’ him tings?”

His face was completely hidden under his golden metallic mask but everyone could tell he’s frowning, “He’s young, maybe if more people taught him he would have known better than to join Cordis Die.”

Laswell had estimated their extraction would not be for another three hours so they all had a little time for themselves. Arthur had let Merlin out of what Soap called “the arse papoose” and the rest of the men had joined in giving the dog pats and bellyrubs. Merlin had been relieved off of work, and Ghost would be lying if he didn’t eye the pup with envy.

Soap approached him with the widest grin he has ever sported on his face while holding onto the top part of his vest and Ghost wishes he could disappear into thin air right now. He has seen the same gesture and expression coming from Price, so he knows he’s gonna get made.

“So… Urethras eh?”

“What, Johnny?” He glared at the Scot with all the leftover anger he could muster, which is barely any since their mission went well and he didn’t have to use excess force on another soldier.

His Sergeant didn’t even regard him seriously and continued, grin wider than ever. Man was practically beaming. “Was the raccoon their idea too, then?”

Soap couldn't see Ghost’s face, but he has been around Simon long enough—been in many dire situations together enough—to know just by looking at his eyes that the stupid Brit is smiling brightly.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty imagines #call of duty #scuffed writing

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shinycollarboneapologist · 1 year

Text

gorgeous

ficlet to the taylor!verse, based on THIS request. or the day matty and reader met :D

content: no p in v sex but still kind of smutty, HEAVY PETTING, tw: one direction mention, reader was in a disney channel tv show

“aren’t you from one direction?” it comes out before your inebriated brain can stop the neural impulse from floating to your lips. he stares at you, blankly, blinking only after he realizes you’re probably not joking.

the club is loud, he almost feels as if he’s misheard you. and it had been over an hour before he was able to actually catch your eye. he had been trying since he got here, wanting to be pulled under your ephemeral gaze. each time he thought you were going to finally give him the time of day, you would only pull your eyes away and fall back into a steady conversation with whomever was in front of you. matty normally never had to fight for attention, usually people would flock to him and tell him how good his music was, how intelligent he was. yet, here he was having to fight tooth and nail for you to even look at him.

now that he’s got your attention, undivided and slightly unnerving, he doesn’t want to let it go.

“fuck you’re mean,” he exhales, shaking his head.

and you laugh, head rolling back as you bring your voice down an octave, darkening the timbre of your words as you mock him.

“i do not sound like that.” the foreboding crinkle in his forehead and frown on his lips is lessened by the sparkle in his eyes.

“yeah, you do, actually,” you’re unrelenting in your teasing, hand coming up to touch his forearm, “but it’s okay.”

he scoffs, yet he’s unable to ignore the radiating feeling of sparks going up his arm as your hand touches his skin. he glances down at your manicured fingers, throat feeling tight as his mind drifts to a filthy place far away from the club and even farther away from where he wants to be with you. he downs the rest of his drink, imagining its you on his lips, and returns his gaze to your bright eyes.

“you know, i’ve actually been trying to talk to you all night,” he confesses.

“have you?” you ponder, tilting an eyebrow up.

he nods, cheeks flushing as he smiles bashfully like a child caught stealing a bite of dessert before dinner, “yeah. i have, actually.”

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice his stare from across the room. his eyes had been locked on you since you entered, drawn to your magnetic demeanor in the darkened haze of the club. taylor had mentioned that she invited someone she wanted you to meet and by the looks of her watching the two of you interact from the corner of the room, her wish was coming true.

“could tell actually, you’ve been staring at me all night,” conversing with him is playful, light, easy. you offer him your hand and your name. he gladly takes it, enjoying the way your soft skin feels against his.

“i know, s’kinda embarrassing but your poster is on my wall back home.” he’s gleaming down at you, twinkle in his eye, “i’m matty.”

“matty,” you repeat, returning his smile with one of your own. your hand lingers in his for a little longer than expected, and there’s a slight desire for you to tangle your fingers with his. you shake off the feeling though, letting your hands fall apart naturally. he eyes you, quirking his head to the side.

“can i get you a drink?”

you oblige happily.

one drink turns into two. which then leads to three and before you know it you’re giggling on a bar stool with matty standing in front of you. he’s radiant in the lights, thick lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, smile full and bright. his lips, pink and plush, are curled around his teeth. you’re well aware that you’re entranced by him, eyes loitering on his face for a little longer than acceptable. you can’t help it though, and also can’t help the way you lean forward and take his hand.

“you’re gorgeous,” your words tumble from your lips before you can think of the repurcussions.

he stops in his tracks, standing up a little straighter. you think you’ve fucked it royally, immediately your eyes widen and your jaw pops open and shut as you try to think of a way to remedy it all.

“me? darling, what about you? should see yourself.” there’s a hint of blush creeping up the skin of his neck. it matches the pigment of your nails and you’re reminding yourself to always pick that color to remember it by.

you wave him off, but his hand encapsulates your wrist before you can finish the movement.

“i mean it, truly.” his lips, soft as silk, press to your heated skin. they’re warm, wet from way he kept licking over them before, and you’re warding off thoughts of the way they would feel elsewhere. you shift, thighs clenching. you hope he doesn’t notice.

matty leans closer to you. his movements are slow, like water running over oil, and he’s perching himself up with one hand on the bar and the other on the barstool. his breath, tainted with the taste of the whiskey he was sipping, fans over your face as he exhales.

thankful for the darkened aura of the club, you reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, eyes searching his for any semblance of dismissal. there is none. and so you rally forward, leaning up to press your lips to his own. his lips are softer than you imagined, tasting of the remnants of his drink and the coolness of the ice cubes that once floated around. he lets you take the lead, hands settling onto your waist as you go to pull him impossibly closer. your body melts into him, arms slowly drifting to loop around his neck.

in the hustle and bustle of the club, you feel still. everything seems to cease around you. he pulls back slowly, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“you wanna get out of here?”

it’s a statement more than it is a question. the words are suggestive, hanging in the air like cobwebs. you watch as his eyes widen, similar to your actions prior. was he over thinking? did he over step? his tongue pokes out from between his lips again, licking over the skin. you want to do that.

“what? you’re not going to wine and dine me first?” you counter, but you’re already slipping off of the bar stool and linking an arm in his.

he laughs, shaking his head, “i bought you a few drinks, didn’t i?”

matty lets you lead him out the back door. his hand is attached to your waist, guiding you as you make a bee-line for the car parked waiting for you both. he opens the door for you before your driver could even make his way around the car.

you slip in, matty follows, and you situate yourself on the leather seats. he’s squeezing in next to you, a hand placed gently on your exposed thigh. your skin heats up as if its aflame, each stroke of his thumb makes you have to compress the thoughts that are infiltrating your brain. you want him, badly. and you have a funny feeling that he knows it.

you’re both stumbling up to the door of the apartment, his hand seeking purchase on your waist once more. once the door is unlocked, you offer him a soft smile, “i apologize for the clutter. s’just been awhile since i’ve been home.”

the door is pushed open and you lead him inside, letting him enter as you shut the door behind the both of you. there’s a gasp. and you’re thinking that maybe you read it all wrong. maybe he didn’t want to come inside. maybe-

“dude, no fucking way. you’ve got the original film poster for pulp fiction? signed too? that’s so sick.”

you let out a listless laugh, hand resting on your chest, “it was a gift. from an ex.” your face scrunches up at the last revelation, shaking your head as his eyes somberly look at you, “s’fine though. his last movie bombed in the box office, so i guess we all get our karma somehow, right?”

he nods but immediately turns back to the poster, still in awe.

matty had heard all about the break up, knew exactly which ex you were referencing also. an older guy, one that made everyone turn up their noses and call you some god awful things on the internet. he knew the breakup was rough, too, it had come up in conversations between he and taylor before. he didn’t want to pry, though, so he just faked enthusiasm in the poster for as long as he could.

“you want anything? a drink? water? a snack?” you call from the kitchen. matty’s not done with his snooping yet, eyes dragging all over the large living room. there’s shoes astray, polaroid pictures littering dark forest green walls, a colorful rug, a sweatshirt haphazardly thrown on the couch, and lots of plants. it feels lived in and normal. for being one of the top actresses in the world, rolling stone said this not him, you’re normal.

“i’ll take some water, please.”

he hears your hum of approval and the sound of you shuffling around in the kitchen. when you reappear, he notes that the heels on your feet were swapped for a very endearing pair of slippers. they’re pink, fuzzy and the bunnies have long ears that drag on the floor when you walk. matty can’t help but smile. his cheeks hurt so badly from the action, yet he hardly notices. you’re extending the glass of water out to him, perching yourself on the bar table that separates the kitchen from the living area.

“thank you,” he nods his head at you and takes a long sip, eyes locked on you as he does. he watches as you squirm under his unrelenting gaze and his stomach flutters.

you show him around, pointing out all of the pictures on the wall of family and friends. and he notices how those same walls are littered with the countless awards you’ve won, yet you don’t acknowledge them. he’s been in the presence of many a large celebrity before and those are usually the first things they point out. but you’re different. a cool sip of water in the heated tinsel town he’s come to be apart of.

“what’s this picture?” he nods his head to a polaroid dated only a year or so prior. it’s blurry, darkened but he can make out the shape of your lips in the corner and a familiar head of blonde hair.

you groan, a flush creeping up your neck and to your cheeks. “my twenty-first. went to vegas with taylor and a couple of our friends and woke up in LA. don’t think i can ever look at vodka the same way again. it was not my best moment, i’ll tell you that.”

he laughs, a true belly laugh and bends backwards as you confess.

“how did you end up in LA?” he asks, finally able to gain his composure.

“you’re asking me as if i know! taylor says i paid off a pilot in a bar or something, which sounds a little too on brand if you ask me,” you muse, “but i got to see the sunrise from behind the hollywood sign, so that was nice.”

matty revels in the way you recall the memories. your eyes are gleaming, and in the darkened light of the hallway he can tell that you’re radiant, sheer beauty putting all of the stars he’s seen to shame.

you approach the doorway to your room and there’s a bit of apprehension as you turn over your shoulder to look at the curly-haired man behind you. he nearly falls into you as you stop short, his chest bumping into your shoulder. you pause. and swallow thickly, can feel his heart rapping against his chest. the vibrations reverberate through your body. it isn’t long until his eyes wander down to your lips again.

“can i kiss you again?” he exhales.

you nod quickly and before you can even open your mouth to say anything, his lips seek solace on yours. you sigh out, twisting in his grasp to assume more leverage. his hands trace over your body, grasping at your hips to pull you closer. your lips move in tandem with one another, soft sighs and hums of content echoing into each other. one of your arms wraps loosely around his neck while the other reaches down to find the doorknob. he nips at your lip, and you melt in his arms with a baited whine. you feel his lips curl up into a smirk against yours when you finally reach the door knob and twist it.

the both of you nearly fall into your room, but he’s got your waist in his hands to steady you against him. its only a few paces from the doorway to the bed. skillfully, he’s backing you up. his lips move feverishly against your own, parting only as your knees buckle and you fall onto the bed with the weight of his body collapsing ontop of you.

“hey there,” you hum, moving your lips from his to slowly kiss your way down his exposed neck. his soft sighs ricochet through the heated air and you watch as goosebumps prickle up the skin of his arms.

“feels nice,” he murmurs, tilting his neck up. you get better leverage then, using this to your advantage as you curl your lips to suck a deep purple mark at the base of his neck. matty moans. and you swear to yourself that its the prettiest sound you’ve heard all night, maybe even your whole life. his hands travel from your waist, up towards your concealed chest.

“can i take this off?” he’s tugging at the hem of your shirt. you nod quickly.

matty wastes no time in ridding you of the shirt and makes quick work of the bra that’s keeping you from him.

“fucking hell,” he all but whines, leaning down to press his lips to your heated skin. his lips do anything but ease the heat erupting underneath your skin, instead they illicit more heat in their wake. “you’re fucking gorgeous.”

a large palm cups at the mound of one of your breasts while his mouth leaves heated kisses along the other. his tongue jets out, flicking at the tender budded skin of your nipple before he envelopes the sensitive bud into his mouth. a gasp falls from your lips. he’s toying with it between his teeth, sucking it around. your hips buck up and into him.

he alternates between the two, loving the way you writhe and buck against him. there’s a fire burning deep within you, the totality of it all being blissfully ignored between your legs.

“need more,” you sigh out. matty peers up at you. he’s moved on to kissing down your stomach and shuffling your pants down your legs. a wry smile tugs at his cheeks.

“patience is a virtue.”

“do you want me to beg for it?”

the thought of you on your knees and begging for him has his cock jumping in his pants. he blinks a few times, “while the offer may be nice, the sight of you on your knees might make me cum in my pants.”

a breathy laugh falls from your lips, reaching down to run a hand through his hair.

“meant it when i said you were gorgeous,” your thumb traces down the center of his face, pulling at his bottom lip. his eyes are wide and doe-like. he captures your digit in his mouth, nipping at the tender pad. its enough to make you shudder. his lips are puffy and swollen, reminiscent of all of the kissing and biting and longing. a pink flush rises from his neck, similar in color to the shade of his lips. it only exacerbates your point.

“you gonna let me have a taste?” he asks, his breath fanning out over your clothed core.

"please,” you hum through a baited breath.

he groans in response, tapping the side of your thigh whilst removing the soaked lace from your skin. matty spreads you open between his fingers, dipping his finger into the sticky honey pouring out from you. he pops the digit into his mouth, eyes rolling back. “taste so good. wanna taste you directly from this pretty little cunt though.”

you barely have a second to reply in anything but a moan as he loops his arms under the bend of your knees, mouth latching onto your cunt almost immediately. he’s insatiably sucking and licking and nipping. you wail out as his teeth run over your senisitve (and up until this point ignored) clit. he flicks his tongue over the bud soothingly, lips curling around to suck on it. the fact that there’s no rhythm almost gives it a rhythm. you buck your hips up against his mouth, wanting more, craving more. he’s devouring you like a man starved and you’re happy to be his last meal.

“feels so good,” you sigh out through a combination of a choked sob and a moan. matty smirks against you, bringing a finger up and slipping it in. he crooks it up, finding the spot inside of you almost immediately. you have half a mind to ask him where he found out about it. you had heard stories from friends of friends through the grapevine, but nothing prepared you for anything quite like this.

“gonna let me fuck you?” he pulls back slowly, quirking an eyebrow up at you. his lips shine in your juices, pupils blown out and hair wild from the fingers you’ve been raking through it. matty’s finger relentlessly works in and out of you and he’s adding a second before you can even reply.

“yeah. want you to fuck me,” you moan. his thumb connects to your clit and he continues to work into you, his fingers rubbing over the spongy spot over and over. your eyes roll back into your head, letting the shockwaves of pleasure radiate through your body.

matty’s reaching for his wallet with his unoccupied hand. his incesscant rhythm has slowed down, leaving you without much relief. he leans over your sweaty writhing body upon getting his wallet, to press a kiss to your lips. its messy. and he tastes like you- heady and sweet. you buck into his fingers, slowly beginning to fuck yourself against them. his jaw goes slack and he pulls back to watch the scene below him. he’s distracted by you, entranced in the way you push and pull yourself on his fingers, thoughts clouding by the way this exact scene would play out with you on his cock (which twitches in the constraints of his pants).

you’re moaning out for him, eyes locking on his own as you feel your release begin to creep up on you. its slow and impending, all you need is a little push-

“fuck!”

his expelative jossels you from your impending high. you blink a few times and stop the movement on his fingers, chest rising and falling.

“w-what’s wrong?” you exhale heavily, worry crossing your face.

you’re half expecting you to tell him that he’s got a girlfriend or he’s changed his mind or you’re not exactly what he wanted or he’s got to go.

“i don’t have a fucking condom. could’ve swore i put one in here.” the look on his face is almost laughable. matty’s gone pale, despite the heat induced flush on his chest, and his eyes are locked on the empty pocket of his wallet.

you let out a giggle that has his eyes snapping back to yours, “i have one. let me just..” you blush a bit as you dismount his fingers, rolling over to open the night stand next to your head. there, tucked in the corner is a box of condoms. you silently cheer and drag it towards you. you don’t remember it feeling this light when you bought it. maybe you went through more than you-

“fuck!” the box is empty when you turn it upside down on the bed.

matty is exasperated, looks as if he’s about to cry and you’re sure you don’t look much better.

you flop back onto the bed dejectedly covering your eyes and letting out a loud groan. “this is-”

“i know.”

“i can’t believe.”

“i know.”

the bed dips in next to you and he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, “we can make it work though? quite liked the way you felt on my fingers and that little scene you made fucking yourself on them? nearly came in my pants.” he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your cheeks, “so why don’t we have our fun now. and tomorrow morning, i’ll go out get us a nice new box that we can tear through?”

“who says i’m letting you sleep over?”

he cocks his head to the side, “i’d like to see you try and kick me out of your bed when i’m done with you.” he begins his descent down your body once more.

“that’s a promise.”

#this is me trying to make it better #i love u all #smooches #taylor!verse #✏️ - matty.#matty healy x reader #matty healy smut

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sailing-through-hawkins · 1 year

Text

had this in my head and then saw this post by @babyboyargyle so i took it as a sign to write it out! it's not perfect but it was fun (*^▽^*)

Say what you want to about monsters and killers and the apocalypse but at least this time they've got all-day access to pizza. Steve doesn't really know where this guy came from but damn, he makes a great margherita.

"Guys, this is Argyle," Jonathan introduces, waving towards a man with very, very long hair, holy shit.

Steve takes a second from hammering nails into the fifth bat that he's been tossed to give the guy a nod. He nods back, eyes flitting between the bat in Steve's hands to the bandages wrapped around his waist. But Steve's used to everyone keeping an eye on his wounds, from his stomach to his back to his arms to his head. He's a magnet for damage, that's just how it is.

"Hey man," Steve greets with a wave and gets back to hammering. "Welcome to the shitshow."

"Y-yeah," Argyle swallows with another nod. "Glad to be here."

At first, he seemed like a great addition. Argyle's funny, chill in a way that Steve hasn't experienced since '83, maybe even before that. Despite all the monsters lurking and the crackling in the air, dude kept his cool and got to work on food supplies and even teaching everyone how to do tracking shit like something out of a nature show.

But then, on their way back to the base (also known as Steve's fucking house), Jonathan's team is almost swarmed by demodogs and Steve and Robin have to run out to give 'em hell.

Ha, giving hell to the hellbeasts. Is that irony? Dustin would call it irony, Steve thinks.

After a little carnage and some (very therapeutic, according to Robin) violence, they manage to annihilate the 'dogs and get Will to throw their tracks off so they have their safe zone for a bit longer at least, but Argyle is quiet and frantic-eyed the entire walk home. It unsettles Steve, all that antsy energy building up under the surface.

Once safely inside, Jonathan and Nancy start on organizing the new supplies. It's when Jonathan manages to drop a water bottle that all that tension finally bursts.

"Shit, oh man, shit, shit, oh my god!" Argyle's pacing back and forth, hands scrunching up into his scalp which, yikes, not a good look for that mane. "This is so messed up, this is crazy, this is so messed up!"

Jonathan steps forward with a, "Argyle, Argyle, listen -"

"No, no, no, last time I listened to you, there was an open grave in front of me and now there's like fifty thousand demons out there! The world is fucking crazy right now, man, I am freaking out! I am -"

Okay, damage control time.

"Hey, hey, hey -" Steve shifts himself into Argyle's line of sight, holding his hands up and letting out a low whistle. "Dude, take a breath, alright?"

Which is apparently all the guy needs to latch his hands onto Steve's shoulders very, very tightly, holy shit, this guy's grip. "How am I supposed to breathe when -"

"Look at me, in-and-out, alright?" Steve exaggerates his own breathing, letting Argyle take his time in copying the motions. "In, out, in, out, you're doing good. It's pretty scary out here, huh?"

Argyle's grip on his shoulders tenses but Steve quickly grabs onto his wrists, gives them a short squeeze, and suddenly all that tension deflates. Which means physical contact is a go for reassurance, nice. "Yeah."

"I get it, man, I do. First time I got into this shit? I was ready to hightail it outta there and never look back, y'know?" He looks up from under his lashes, giving the guy what he hopes is a comforting smile. Judging by the hitch in his breath, it's not as comforting as Steve hopes. "But I get the feeling you're a ride-or-die type, right?"

Argyle shrugs, eyes fixated on Steve like he's the last hope he's got. No pressure.

"Look, I can't like - I can't guarantee much, wouldn't wanna jinx anything, but we're going to handle this, alright?" Damn, his hands are really warm. Is it because he's stressed? Even Steve doesn't run this warm when he's stressed, dude must be keeping a lot of anxiety under all that...weed? California weed? Whatever, focus, Steve. "It's not our first or second, not even third rodeo with this shit, we can absolutely handle it."

"You can handle it," Argyle says in what Steve thinks might be...petulant? Oh, that's fun, this guy is totally going to be fun to have around for the long haul. "Man, I don't even know what the hell is going on anywhere anymore."

Steve laughs, rubbing circles into Argyle's skin with his thumb. He's definitely wired up but that tight spark of panic in his eye is getting dimmer, so the contact might actually be working here. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think any of us know what's happening."

"How -"

"That's the thing, we don't need all the answers right now," Steve pats his wrist and tries a different kind of smile this time which, judging by the way Argyle's gulping and kind of just staring at him, might be working? Okay, fifty-fifty on that. "Just need to figure it out one step at a time."

"I don't - I'm kinda freaking out here, dude," Argyle confesses, like it wasn't kinda obvious for everyone in the room, as he lets go of Steve's shoulders (fuck, his grip is killer, there's definitely gonna be marks tomorrow) and lets his hands hang by his waist in a really sad way. Steve nods, patting his shoulder and gently leading him to the closest chair he can find (of course it's the sofa Mike left his socks on, god damn it Wheeler). "I'm not cut out for this freaky stuff, man, what if - what if we don't make it -"

"Hey," Steve says sharply, immediately regretting it when Argyle flinches at his tone. Take a breath, relax, the guy's worried, that's all. Steve softens his voice, and rubs a hand down his back when he buries his face in his hands. Huh, that's a quality shirt. "Hey, I get it. Believe me, I know how overwhelming this all is when you've got like, zero clue how it all happened. But I got your back here, dude, I'll watch your six."

And woah. Argyle snaps his face back to Steve, eyes wide and mouth just slightly agape. "You what?"

"'S kinda my job," Steve shrugs, continuing to rub his back so he can figure out why this material feels so familiar, what the hell. "I'm the babysitter," - ignore Mike's affronted scoff, stay focused - "I keep track with the whole newbie thing most of the time. I mean like, we all got your back but y'know - like - I'll personally make sure nothing happens to you, if that helps?"

Argyle stares at him for a few seconds, making it really hard not to squirm in the silence. Steve settles for scratching at his nose, finally taking his hand off that damned shirt, the fuck kind of brand is it?! Not important, focus, focus.

"Uh, sorry if that - I didn't mean to come on too strong or anything -"

"Holy shit, dude," Argyle breathes out, one of his (very warm) hands coming down to grip Steve's knee. "You're like, a godsend."

"Oh, uh, thank you?" Steve blinks when Argyle beams at him and pats his knee. Huh, maybe he's getting better at this comforting stuff. "Are - you good now?"

"Hell yes, my friend, I have a killer beast 'watching my six', don't I?" Argyle winks and shit, Steve's wounds must be inflaming again, his skin feels hot. "Now who's ready for some pie!"

Steve watches as he swoops up, practically glowing with such a positive energy it's kind of giving him whiplash. He stares as Argyle makes his way to the kitchen, snatching another glance back at Steve and giving him a wide grin, another wink and a salute before he disappears.

"What just happened?" Steve blinks again.

Jonathan pats his shoulder in sympathy which, uh, why? "You've just been Argyle'd."

"What does that even mean?" Steve splutters because what the hell is even happening. "And what did he mean by an open grave?"

"It's a long story," Jonathan sighs and gives him another pat. "Tell you once you help me sort out the water supply."

"The supply that you were supposed to figure out before you left, that water supply?"

"Fuck you," Jonathan grins and Steve shakes off the buzzing heat under his skin.

Everything's fine, all is cool. Just gotta keep an extra eye on Argyle.

Easy-peasy. Fuck, please be easy-peasy.

#stargyle #writing #ficlet #au content #steve harrington #argyle stranger things #stranger things #i just think it'd be funny if argyle thought steve meant he'd watch his ass instead of his back #also that argyle's panicking immediately side-steps for argyle's flirting #sailor✧writes

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