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cursingtoji · 5 months

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ᥫ᭡ 𝐬𝐨... 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?

— where satoru comforts you after breaking up with toji

gojo being lowkey yandere, fem reader, toji is the ex, mentions of baby trapping, reader is older, gojo calls her senpai (almost as a mock), classroom smut, fingering, gojo has to wear a condom and he hates it, he’s also a bit pathetic and in love, reader is a bit of bitch. 4k (this was supposed to be drabble idk what happened)

“i know what you’re thinking” gojo’s voice breaks the silence in the classroom where you were supposed to be grading papers but instead has been looking through the window for god knows how long now.

the sudden appearing happens after gojo catches your lost gaze on the field some of his students were training at. he saw your profile looking down at your desk, then after a few minutes you looked through the window until your eyes set on gojo’s protégée and the son of the man that broke your heart.

“but if you keep doing that megumi will get creeped out by you” gojo simply manifested in your classroom as soon as he realized you would stay in trance not even noticing your fellow teacher staring back at you from below.

“whatever, he never liked me anyways” you brush off, then remember what he said before, “and what the hell makes you think you know what i’m thinking?”

“ah, you forgot? i have an eye or six for this sorta thing” he points to his blindfold.

“you saying you can read minds now, you freak?” your relationship with satoru always had that dynamic. toji usually got very annoyed whenever he was in the same room as the two of you, he tried to pull you away or make an excuse for you two to go back to his place. deep down you knew he felt some type of way whenever you and satoru banter like that.

“please you’re so transparent i wonder how megumi haven’t seen it yet, i'm concerned that he might need glasses…”

“just say what you wanna say, satoru.”

gojo, on the other hand, didn’t need an instinct to see how jealous and possessive toji could be when he was around. all that gojo needed to say was one word to trigger the old man.

“every time you see megumi you think about him, don’t you?” he takes a step in your direction while you sink in your chair looking away, “senpai.”

gojo never showed respect for anyone, he was scolded several times by yaga because of it, utahime tried to hit him whenever she could, demanding formal treatment since she was his upperclassmen. but you, for whatever reason he decided, was the only one he used that honorific with.

“he’s his kid, of course i’ll—“

“ever since i heard about your breakup you’ve been acting like everything is fine, except for when you see megumi, then you frown,” gojo extends his index and taps the space between your eyebrows “and your cursed energy increases” he then sits on your desk looking down at you, “don’t tell me megumi had anything to do with why toji—“

“of course not” you stop him, although megumi was never fond of you, you know he’s a good kid and wouldn’t try to get in the way of your relationship with his father. as far as you know, he’s not particularly close to his old man either. actually, anything related to toji — bets, races, you — is automatically disregarded by him.

“then you gotta stop looking at him like he did something, or before you realize your energy towards him will become hostile and i can’t let that happen” gojo’s tone became more severe, it’s one of those rare times where he drops the playful persona in order to get serious. truthfully, megumi did nothing, but you can't unsee toji when you look at him, especially after seeing what your ex-boyfriend used to look like in the old days when he showed you some photos. it never occurred to you before, since you barely saw megumi anyways, you're not his sensei and in your free time you were with toji so there wasn't much time to get to know megumi since they don’t live together since the boy was five. you suppose gojo is right, pushing your hurt feelings away only makes them come out stronger when you see anything that reminds you of toji.

“that’s not gonna happen, i have my energy under control” you cross your arms, feeling exposed under gojo’s gaze even through the mask.

he stays quiet for a second, then his annoying tone is back.

“what did you even see in him anyways? he’s definitely not a good guy.”

“that’s rude, toji is—“

“did you think you could change him or something?”

“i— no, why—“

“from what megumi said he was cheap as fuck so it was definitely not the money” he rubs his chin.

“gojo, i swear—“

“was it the sex?”

you widen your eyes and close your mouth, not having a simple answer for that.

“jackpot” satoru whispers.

“fuck off, satoru” you raise from your seat but he raises too, blocking your way and trapping you against the black board and his body.

“you stayed with that guy for years just for the sex?” he has a mocking tone that makes your blood boil.

“no! and that’s none of your goddamn business.”

“and you’ve broken up, what? two months ago? you’ve been all this time without sex?” you raise your hand ready to slap his face or punch his nose but he sees your movements faster and catches your wrist, “don’t be like that senpai, your energy is getting hostile again” he takes all the time in the world lowering his blindfold and letting his hair fall down while staring at you with those freaking blue eyes, “although, on second thought i think that might be mmm… sexual frustration? it’s a color i never seen in you before” he grabs your wrist firmly.

“you don’t know what you’re saying.”

“oh but i do, senpai. i’m just wondering how you haven’t downloaded a dating app or tried to rub one off yet” gojo knows exactly which buttons to press to make you wanna stab him, or worst, make you wanna fuck him.

gojo gets closer to your face, so close you can smell his aftershave, and just the realization that it’s a different scent from the one you were so used to makes your heart ache and your clit throb.

“or did you?” he’s fast, gojo catches your phone on top of the table putting it right in front of your face to unlock then moving away from you to check it, “definitely no dating apps” you yell his name and try to snatch your phone back but he puts infinity on and you can’t reach him, “browser history?”

“satoru, you have no right, gimme that” your face is hot with shame.

“nothing either, well i suppose your camera roll…”

“no!”

“aha” he deactivates the invisible shield and right when you think you can retrieve your phone he turns you around, holding your arms behind your back and pressing your back against his chest, “is that what you use to get off?” he puts the phone in front of you, it’s opened in the gallery, more specifically in a part filled with lewd videos and photos.

“not bad, you could make some cash outta this” gojo puts his chin on your shoulder, playing a video which clearly was filmed by toji, his dick is getting in and out of you from behind, he gets a close look with the phone, his glistening dick shining under the flashlight while your pussy stretches to accommodate him. you press your legs together remembering the feeling, you’re not even struggling to get out of gojo’s hold by the time the video ends.

“you don’t need to get off by yourself, you know?” he smells your hair and kisses your ear, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“that was forever ago” you reply, at the time you thought satoru was going to use that against you, just wait for an opportunity to drop that bomb on toji’s lap and proudly say he fucked his girlfriend before, but whatever image you had of him back then was proved wrong since no one knows about your little escape with gojo till this very day.

“and wasn’t it good? huh?” he presses, sucking the spot on your neck that has you throwing your head back.

“yeah, it was” you confess, too sensible from the light touches to rethink your answers.

“see? i can make you feel good so you don’t become a little monster” he trails his hand on your thigh, pushing your skirt up until he finds your underwear, playing with the hem to tease you then pressing a finger on your clit.

“so charitable of you” you mumble sarcastically.

“i would gladly do this favor to you” he replies in the same tone, “even though you still own me.”

“for what?!” you close your legs around his hand turning your head around to look him in the face, not even considering a world where satoru did you any favors.

“for raising your boyfriend’s son? you really think you would’ve had a sex life with an eight year old summoning pets around the house?” he raises an eyebrow.

“don’t pretend like you did that out of the goodness in your heart, if megumi didn’t have the ten shadows you wouldn’t have bat an eye if toji sold him to the zenin’s or whomever.”

“you sound just like him” gojo’s eyes get darker, now he has your clit slowly rolling between his thumb and index over your underwear.

“besides— hng i came in the picture years after you took megumi… so don’t blame me” you wiggle your ass on his crotch.

“a ‘thank you my favourite kohai’ wouldn’t hurt” you sincerely laugh at that, never thinking of satoru as your underclassmen since that fucking minx is everyone’s exception on their cursed technique due to how powerful he is, so him being below you somehow was never a posibility, at least not strength wide.

satoru pushes your underwear to the side, rubbing the wetness all over your pussy and teasing your entrance.

“five years” you murmur as he inserts a finger then pulls it back to join his middle one too and go back in.

“hm?” satoru gets quieter, after talking so much and having so many things to say you’re surprised he stayed silent for a whole minute.

“last time you fucked me, it was five years ago” you get comfortable on his hold, his leg is between yours, serving as support for you to lean on while he scissors you.

“that long huh…” he sounds… sad? no, maybe nostalgic.

“crazy, right? so much has—“ you sigh when he curls his fingers, “changed.”

satoru take a long sniff of your hair, keeping a pleasing rhythm with his hand, it feels like giving someone a massage. he could go crazy and have you stripped out of your uniform a while ago, fucked you on your desk and left after marking your body and giving your ass a mean slap.

he could still do that, but whatever feeling bloomed in his chest has him enjoying this moment with you in his hold, stroking your insides and smelling your shampoo while discreetly rocking his hips on your behind for some relief.

he almost feels sleepy, the relaxed state has his mind going other places. he thinks of a world where he can tease you under your uniform every other day, you would tell him the school is no such a place for that then the day ends and you go home with him, holding hands, and finally when you arrive home he gets to finish what he started. then, he cooks whatever quick meal he can find the ingredients for since he knows you don't like to cook, afterwards you fall asleep on his lap on the couch as he strokes your hair, your belly is full, your heart is warm, you feel loved and he feels—

“toru~” he comes out of the trance he fell at when you call for him, he thinks for a second you were calling his name cause you felt he was off, but in reality you were calling him cause you are getting close, “right there” your breathy moans makes gojo smile and kiss your temple.

“where? here?” he pretends to not know, when the truth is he never actually forgot after your first time together, “right here, senpai?”

“y-yeah” you throw your head back, shutting your eyes to give in to the orgasm. gojo looks down at your pretty face, he feels the urge to kiss you right now, but he wants you to ask for it first. your walls clench around his fingers, he strokes that spot sweetly, like he's caressing a pet.

which is an ironic comparison since he’s the one that would gladly accept being your pet.

when you open your eyes gojo is staring at you silently through half lid eyes, it is truly a shame that he keeps those hidden for so long.

“desk, now” you demand needly.

“yes ma'am” gojo picks you up easily, moving the papers on top of the table to the floor.

you immediately go for his belt, choosing not to comment on the wet spot on his pants.

you feel a pressure on your chin as he guides your head up to look at him.

“ask me” he pleads.

“for what?”

“for a kiss” you smile, looking at his lips and how inviting they look. you ponder if you should tease him for it, since he's been teasing you with words a lot today, but then you chose to comply, despite going through your phone without our permission and claiming your frustration comes from lack of dick, he's actually being good to you.

“gimme a kiss” you raise your chin higher, he gazes at your lips and eyes, looking for something other than lust, yet he gives in, sealing your lips with his trying to keep his mind away from thinking of the man that had your lips previous to him. and how dumb that motherfucker is to let you go.

gojo's lips are soft, he starts gently which feels foreign to you, but it doesn't take long before his hand presses your lower back, pulling you closer until his cock hits your clothed cunt. the warmth he feels is enough to relish the passion in him, he kisses you harder, tongue intruding your mouth like he's trying to devour you.

the wet kiss also awakens your urge for him, you pull his cock from his underwear in the tiny space between his and your crotch, the second it's out it's already against your folds, the leaking tip hot against your skin.

“nuh-uh you better have a rubber” you push your knee onto gojo’s pelvis when he starts to rub himself on you to spread your wetness on his shaft.

“did you make toji wear one too?” he raises a questionable eyebrow at you, willing to bet all his heritage on the answer.

“he had to earn that privilege” you reach for gojo’s wallet, not failing to notice the black cards and considerable amount of cash, “i don’t know what you do after 6 so…” you take the packs, ripping it open yourself and rolling on him. with a face and body like his you doubt gojo spends most nights by himself.

“unbelievable…”

“satoru” you warn stroking him slowly, “can i get another kiss?” you bat your lashes. gojo comes closer, his nose even touches yours, then you feel his hands on your waist, turning you around till your elbows and chest are against the table and your skirt is being flipped over, underwear pushed down.

“you have to earn it, senpai” he spits the words against your ear as he pushes his dick into you. until a few moments ago, satoru was composed, happy to accept whatever crumbles you chose to give him. you managed to trigger him by saying toji still had something he couldn't have.

he's still gonna go through this — that's how whipped he is for you — though now he’ll be less gentle.

his cockhead hits your spot, nothing accidental of course, satoru knows your spots like the back of his hand. you whine and arch your back, satoru pouts realizing he won't get to suck some hickeys on the skin of your back and shoulder, not now at least, but the night is young.

“c'mon satoru, don't be like that” you look over your shoulder, licking your lips at the sight of him sweaty, flushed and frowny.

the sound of his name in your voice makes him want to cum on the spot, he dips his head on your neck sighing, not stopping thrusting your behind. he wanted to feel you so badly, why the fuck did you make him wear a condom? he's clean, of course he is, he's gojo satoru for heaven's sake! even viruses are afraid of him.

or was it something else you feared?

“hey… you on the pill?” he lifts his head slightly, his voice still muffled by the material of your dress.

“you’re not fucking me raw, satoru.”

“just wondering… you said you didnt wear a condom with him, so what kept you from getting knocked up?” he wiggles his hand between you and the surface of your table till hes palming your belly.

“you keep bringing toji up a lot, obsessed much?” you tease him, avoiding the answer, gojo pinches your clit.

“please, he wishes. now tell me. iud? implant? injections?” you push him away turning around then pulling him back.

“okay, you clearly had sex ed classes, now shut up and fuck me right” gojo takes your leg and places on his shoulder, you bite your fist to contain your moan, the new position makes easier for him to nudge your clit with his pelvis.

“i could be fucking you better, you know how?” he bites the skin of your leg, not harshly but enough to make you yelp, he smiles, giving a particular hard thrust that makes your eyes roll.

“condom stay on, satoru, i can’t risk getting preg—“ you slap your mouth. satoru stops.

“you’re not… on anything?”

“listen you can’t tell anyone about this, okay?” you cover your face, “i had a pregnancy scare a few years ago so… gosh why am i even telling you this…”

“go on” gojo massages your thigh.

“toji got a vasectomy. birth control wasn’t working for me anymore and it was only a matter of time before— well it doesn't matter. you can see why you have to use it right?” you place your elbows on the table, sitting up enough to see the look on his face, it’s not what your expected to see.

satoru looks like a child that just found out where his parents keep all the sweets. he’s grinning, dick throbbing.

“yeah, i see now” he bends, holding your neck and kissing you, he makes the kiss feel like a ‘thank you for trusting me’ but if this was a cartoon his shadow would have horns and a pointy tail.

all he can think now is exactly how to make you his, he can sweet talk you into allowing him to hit it raw, promising to pull it out, then… whoopsie.

the new discovery gives him a different kind of stamina.

“don’t worry, your secret is safe with me” he kisses your cheek after leaving you breathless.

he plunges in and out, a rhythm that has you seeing stars. gojo craves you so much, he’s quite bothered by all the clothes and the need to keep it down, otherwise he would have torn your dress apart and have you screaming by now.

“fuck— keep doing that” you run your nails on his undercut, gojo mewls and take your other leg, pushing it further to go deeper. he sees the white ring around his cock, getting high on the sigh of it combined with your pussy illuminated by the natural light coming from the window behind him.

he wonders if toji ever fucked you in a classroom like this, then he shakes his head, not allowing the image to form in his mind, instead he focus on you, and how your pretty face contorts as your orgasm approaches once again.

“so fucking pretty” he whispers quietly.

you attempt to lower your legs. feeling it’s gonna be too much.

“nuh-uh keep them here” he pushes back, “so tight” he closes his eyes.

you’re a moaning mess at this point, almost forgetting where you are.

“that’s right, let it go baby” your legs shake as your orgasm hits you, satoru can see the shape of your cursed energy peaking then getting softer.

he fucks you a little more, trying not to think about the condom trapping his dream of knocking you up.

god, you would look so fucking gorgeous carrying his baby, all round up for him to showcase around. he would do anything for you, you wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

if only…

“fuck“ he fucks his load — into the condom unfortunately.

after the initial high goes away he starts to hear his students asking where he went and why he’s taking so long, “wait here, i’ll take you home.”

“you don’t have to” you smile, poking his cheek.

“oh i do, i’m not done with you” he takes your hand from his nape and gives it a kiss before pulling out and throwing that despicable rubber into the bin, making a mental note to empty that bin outside where the evidence of what happened between two teachers is not so easily discoverable.

you sit up adjusting your dress and looking around, “did you see my…”

“nope” gojo leaves the classroom pushing the material of your panties further into his pocket.

gojo had the weekend of his dreams, he convinced you to stay in his place that night and the next one too, he rubbed your sore legs after you came so much you were spasming then made you breakfast, it almost made him believe of a happy ending for the two of you.

a dream that was shattered when, a few days later you returned from a mission and stood by the entrance of the school kissing… toji.

gojo watches the scene from above, a frown on his face.

“yeah i was surprised too” he almost forgot that megumi was with him, “thought she finally created some sense” he confesses.

gojo doesn’t say anything, he watches silently as you tiptoe to kiss toji, the fucker doesn’t even hold you right, he keeps his hand in his pockets and lets you with all the effort.

“meet you in the classroom in five” gojo disappears from megumi’s sight.

on your way to report your mission to yaga you see satoru leaning against a tree. you say his name in a surprised manner, not having prepared what to tell him beforehand.

“listen, i— hm… i thought you should know that toji and i are back, so—”

“did you tell him?” his arms are crossed.

“about… us? of course not.”

“why? don’t you think he should know?” you hear the challenge in his tone.

“no, and you’re not gonna say a word to him either” you step closer to him, trying to look intimidating which can be difficult due to the height difference, “may i remind you that between the three of us there’s a teen boy who would not appreciate the drama.”

“look at you, using fushiguro as an scapegoat” he smiles at the look of anger forming on your features, “it’s fine, i’m just a bit surprised at how quick you were to go back to him, that’s all.”

“let’s be real, satoru. it’s not like you were going to take me on a date or anything” gojo pulls you by your wrist, your body hits his, the sudden proximity has your eyes widening, anyone could see you and take the wrong conclusion. i mean, it wouldn’t be wrong but you didn’t want any conclusions to be taken for that matter.

“this is not going to be the last time and i don’t give a damn if you’re dating him or married or widowed.”

“satoru!” you shout his name in a whisper, immediately rejecting the idea of becoming a widow.

“you can tell toji or not, i don’t mind fighting him” he pushes himself out of the tree and past you. megumi is grown now, of course he still needs a lot of coaching regarding his skills, but emotionally speaking, he’s been a grown up since he was six.

before going to his classroom as promised, he teleports himself to yours, picking up the bouquet he left at your desk then teleporting to the fountain across the campus where he rips the paper that holds the flowers together and lets it all fall into the water.

satoru watches it for a moment, hurt but still decided to go through with his plan.

he wonders what would you tell toji if you got pregnant, maybe you could convince him the child is his, a miracle. then when the kid comes out with white hair and blue eyes you’ll have no choice other than be with him, the father of your child, the man who truly loves you. gojo satoru.

#there’s no part 2 leave me alone #divider by @cafekitsune #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader

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eddiesghxst · 10 months

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no thoughts just loser!eddie losing his shit when he sees you over at his house for the first time, rifling through his things like any normal friend does.. but you stumble upon a box.under his bed. it’s like slow motion when he walks into his room and sees you open the lid and he nearly drops a glass of water, literally biting his fist in pain, trying to stop you but then you’d only get more curious of what he was hiding.

you. he has polaroids of you except they’re the dirty cum covered kinds. he has your underwear with his stains in it. he has your perfume bottles, your rings (he would totally get hard seeing how tiny they are compared to his, and imagining the dainty stones on the rings on your ring finger like an engagement stone)

it’s like a fucking shrine for you and he thinks he’s gonna pass out as your eyes widen.

but you only turn to him and smile, and his knees weaken. literally almost fainting when you kiss him because you have definitely slept with his sweatshirts, came to the idea of eddie, etc. he’s just such a fucking loser but that night he makes you cum so much you see stars and he’ll have a scrapbooks worth of polaroids (just from that night alone lol)

anyways do you think you could write a lil something based loosely off that? 🫶

BESTIE I MIGHTVE DIED YES. YES YES YES.

also this ended up longer than I'd intended but who cares its pervy!loser!eddie

18+ — MINORS DNI

word count: 1k

————

Eddie’s not sure if he believes this is real. There’s no way this is real, right? There’s no way he has his best friend naked on his bed, covered in sweat and cum— his cum, at that.

He almost thinks it’s all another one of his sick, perverted dreams, but then he’s reminded that none of those dreams have felt this real. None of his dreams have felt this vivid to where he can actually feel the tremble in your hands as you wrap a fist around his wet cock, the shift of the bed as you clumsily scramble to your knees, the lewd and unmistakable shlick sound of your hand fisting his spent cock. It’s never been this vivid— that’s how he knows this isn’t a dream.

You’re blissed out and cock-drunk as you shuffle to lean on all fours, lowering your mouth to suckle on Eddie’s leaking tip. Your toes curl at the sound of Eddie groaning above you, a hand resting on the back of your head to shove himself further down your throat. “Take it all the way in, that’s it— fuck,” Your center throbs at his words, a wet gagging noise emitting from the back of your throat when Eddie’s tip meets the tight space. He curses with a groan, head dropping back for a moment before he looks back down at you with a lazy smirk.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you gag on my dick, sweetheart.”

You whine, your hips grinding back against nothing, the cool breeze of his room sending shivers up your spine when it graces the wet heat of your cunt. Around you, scattered on the bed, are the many polaroids you had just discovered earlier. Snapped photos of you in bed, in the shower, getting dressed in your room; all images that would’ve sent anyone else running for the hills. Eddie was so sure you would never speak to him again when you found that box full of all things you, but to his surprise (and sinful delight), you were just as fucked up as Eddie, if not more.

Eddie’s eyes dart all over the bed; polaroids, lace panties and matching bras, dainty jewelry, lipsticks, and perfume bottles. Eddie Munson was a perverted thief, and it somehow landed him balls deep down your throat.

He reaches down and picks up a particular Polaroid, one of his favorites; a picture of you laid on your stomach in your bed, one leg hiked up to form a comfortable sleeping position. You’d forgone your sleeping shorts this night, and Eddie took it upon himself to jack off and cover your ass in sticky ropes of his cum, snapping a photo as the white substance dripped down between the folds of your ass to stain your pretty panties (Eddie stole those panties that same night).

He takes the picture and holds it up between two fingers. “So many nights of wasted cum… you’ve got a lot to make up for, sweet girl.” His voice is low and teasing, and you whine against him, nuzzling his cock further down your throat until your nose brushes against the curly hairs surrounding his base.

Eddie’s knuckles are tight against your scalp when he pulls you off his cock, shivering at the wet gasp you take, bleary eyes blinking up at him as your spit drips onto his thighs. “Think you’ve been good enough for it?” He wraps a hand around himself and rubs his throbbing tip against your lips, humming in approval when you open your mouth to offer your tongue. He slaps himself against your tongue a few times, chuckling when you whine and squeeze your thighs together. You can feel the sticky feeling of his cum and your arousal sliding against the insides of your hot thighs, and your eyes roll at the sensation. You lean forward and nuzzle against his cock, “Please, Eds— want it so bad. I’ve been so good, I have.” Your words are nearly slurred; the only thing on your mind is the overwhelming urge you have to feel Eddie’s cum in the back of your throat.

You don’t see Eddie reaching for his camera, too focused on licking your way down to his balls. “Fuck— look at me, sweetheart, give me those pretty eyes.”

You slowly blink up at Eddie, wet lashes fluttering and pouty lips grazing his cock as you gaze at the camera. A flash and a snapping sound echo through the room before a white card come out the bottom, a curse falling from Eddie’s lips as he shakes the paper and tosses it to the side for later. He nods down towards you, “Love on it, baby; show me how much you love my cock.” You don’t wait for another second, licking a thick stripe up his cock, rounding your lips around his tip to suck eagerly. Eddie takes another picture, and you whine.

“Shit, I’m gonna come— keep sucking baby, keep taking me in.”

You shuffle forward, nose brushing against his pelvis once again, and Eddie takes it as permission to secure a hand atop your head and begin fucking himself into the back of your throat. Both of your hands are fisted into the sheets below you, watery eyes gazing up at the blissed-out Eddie above you. His hips falter during the last few thrusts; he doesn’t last much longer.

“I’m gonna come… don’t swallow, okay?” You nod as best as you can, and without further directions, Eddie’s cum floods your mouth until you nearly choke on it.

He pulls out of your mouth with a moan, instructing you to open your mouth and show him your tongue, which you immediately obey. He reaches for the camera once more, snapping one picture with you on all fours, gazing up at the camera with your tongue out, white sticky cum coating the inside of your mouth. He takes a second picture, this time with his hand cradling your jaw. The third and last picture he takes is with his hand still cradling your jaw, but his thumb is now pressed against your tongue, smearing his sticky mess across your tastebuds.

And when he tosses the newly printed photos into the pile of new Polaroids, he catches a glimpse of one clear picture of your pussy freshly fucked and covered in his cum. Eddie can’t help it when his cock twitches against his thigh once again.

It’s safe to say that Eddie had to get a new box the next day <3

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eddiernunson · 5 months

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"Do You Want One?" | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Summary: your cousin shows you around Hawkins High for your first day, and is surprised to say the least when her sweet cousin hooks onto Eddie Munson. Just seeing him brings a swoop to your stomach you've never quite felt before, and become desperate for more of him.

Warnings: late bloomer!reader, virgin!reader, mentions never having experienced lust of the sort or really understanding what it is, corruption!kink, little praise, taking of virginity, slight perv!eddie

Authors' note: I, myself didn't feel any sort of sexual attraction or lust until i was 15/16. I tried to write the reader innocent without being infantilized. Also, these photos are for aesthetics only, not much of the reader is described, except for height. Also, my editor pulled through, despite her busy schedule, thanks @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you! This is a birthday present to @bebe07011, always one of the first to read <3

Word Count: 9k

The subtle, yet annoying ring of your alarm yanks you out of your sleep, a sleep that took hours to settle into after anxious tossing and turning. A yawn overtakes your body as you sit up, looking around sleepily at the boxes that contain the contents of your room. You whine as the stars overflow your vision from the rubbing of your eye.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth, tasting the mint of your mouthwash when your mom pushes a bagel into your hand. Most of the kitchen is still in boxes, just a few appliances on the unnaturally bare counters. “Hey, Aunt Karen just called and said Nancy will be here any minute.” She offers, and a part of you feels for the bags under her eyes.

“Thanks.” You say, garbled with a piece of bagel in your mouth.

“Oh, and Mike is being a little testy, so he probably won’t move from the front seat for you.” She laughs, shaking her head.

You shrug, not caring. “I’ve been in the backseat for this long.”

Two honks out the front announce their arrival, and you ignore the anxious reminders she hurriedly spits out as you grab your backpack by the front door, already filled with school supplies from Texas. You shout an I love you to her as the Wheelers’ Station Wagon comes into your sight from the swung open door, finally out of her worried clutches that you’ve been in from the last week straight.

True to Aunt Karen’s word, Mike gave a defiant look when Nancy demanded he get out the front seat. Again, you didn’t care. “Sorry Mike has a ruler up his ass.” Nancy apologizes, her smirk reaching your own in the rearview.

You roll your eyes, a signal that it really doesn’t matter to you.

Hawkins, miniscule in comparison to that of your old home, Houston, passes by in the windows and you huff a sigh out at how much smaller your world has gotten. Your town, your school…you wish you could go back and give a reality check to the girl who patronized Nancy for it on the phone.

As promised, Nancy shows you to the front office and your first few classes. Being the new girl in the middle of a semester is absolute bullshit, but at least it wasn’t Forks, Washington levels of bullshit. That level of attention would’ve had you crawling under a bridge. Thank God only one teacher asked you to introduce yourself to the class. The rest of them couldn’t even be bothered.

Nancy sits alone at lunch, a notepad in her hand next to a near empty lunch tray. One thing you notice is that this school is much more categorized than yours was. It felt straight out of a high school dramedy, one you would criticize for being cliché.

Oh. Maybe it does some have truth to it.

“Hey loner.” You greet her, your butt hitting the hard plastic chair.

“I’m not a loner.” She huffs, hand moving absentmindedly as she writes. “My news team is getting this week’s paper done, we usually get it done during lunch.”

You roll your eyes, having noted the empty space on her tray. “You work too hard.”

“Nope. If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” She answers, her signature side smirk on her face. Sometimes, only sometimes, Nancy doesn’t really have a serious bone in her body.

You gesture to the cafeteria, opening your fruit cup. “So, tell me about your very categorized cafeteria.”

She laughs, pausing in the middle of the sentence she’s writing. “So. There’s the jocks/cheerleaders, the nerds, the band nerds, drama nerds, science nerds—"

“Those are different from the regular nerds?” You ask, eyebrow quirked.

“Yes.” She deadpans. “Those are the kids without a clique,” she points, a bunch of kids not interacting, shyly nibbling at their lunches. “And finally, where my brother sits. Hellfire.”

It felt dramatic, but the table definitely earned their last but not least position. They stand out from the crowd, not seeming to care about fitting in like everyone else so desperately does. From the looks of it, individually, none of them would fit in the crowd. As a group, they stick out like a sore thumb. They don’t even care.

Nancy seems to be speaking, but she fades into the background. While you tricked yourself into believing you were observing the table, it occurs to you your eyes are fixated on the head of it, your heart beating out of your chest as you stare at him.

Him.

“Who’s he?” You interrupt Nancy, watching as his long frizzy hair curtain over his face. You didn’t even know someone in real life could be this good looking, you were sure it was reserved for celebrities in magazines.

Nancy switches her glance back and forth between your slack jaw and wide eyes and him. “That’s Eddie Munson.” She answers, her voice calculated. “The dork that I complained about Mike copying, remember?”

Your tongue reaches out to lick your lips, staring at him distractedly. A hot feeling in the swell of your gut overwhelms your senses. “You described a wet-rat loser.”

Nancy huffs in abrupt laughter. “That’s cause he is!”

“Him?” You ask, this hot feeling starting to radiate. You notice it’s especially hot in your crotch, a sort of…want you’ve never felt before. You’ve never craved for anyone this badly.

Nancy laughs in disbelief, surprised to say the least that her sweet cousin is openly drooling over Eddie The Freak Munson of all people. “I can put in a good word, if you want.” She teases, smirking at the way your eyes widen in panic.

“No, no, please don’t.” You insist, your eyes finally flickering back to her.

“Fine, you can drool from afar.” She muses. “Oh, lunch’ll be over in a handful of minutes. What’s your next class?”

“History.” You answer, viewing your crumpled schedule. God, not another boring lecture.

Nancy bites her lip, something she’s clearly not willing to share with the class. You don’t ask, still trying to catch your breath.

She walks you across the school to the classroom littered with historical figures and maps. She salutes you, telling you she’ll see you in AP Calculus right after this one. The look on her face never leaves it, she’s always got a secret right under the surface, but this one seemed more entertaining than the rest.

When you enter the classroom, the teacher tells you there’s assigned seats in this one and lucky for you, there’s one seat left. She directs you to the far-left corner, signalling to the one on the right. You shyly ignore the looks on your new classmates faces, all of them observing the face of the new kid who started so late in the year.

New faces are always hard to ignore, it’s just human nature to stare. Still, your stage fright is present in the forefront of your mind.

Your teacher starts the lecture by introducing you as a new kid, offering a wave to everyone that turns their head to look at you. Why can’t teachers just learn to be normal?

Your head is turned down, leaning on your elbow as she starts to explain a concept you’ve already learned last year. Are they sure they put you in a grade 12 class? At least this will be easier than most. Suddenly the heavy door opens, and your heart stutters as the man who’s taken over your every thought stumbles into the room ten minutes late.

“Mr. Munson! How nice of you to join us!” She greets, her scowl indicating that it’s anything but.

“You are so welcome, Miss. Greyson.” Eddie answers, his voice dripping in a tenor tone that sends a shiver down your spine. Not a lick of sarcasm comes from him, answering as if she was genuine.

She sighs, closing her eyes in exasperation. “Just go have a seat.”

Something in you suddenly realizes that the only available seat is right next to yours. A thrill takes over you, biting your lip excitedly as he struts as if he has all the time in the world.

After a brief stint on the projector, Miss. Greyson instructs the class to open their textbooks and answer questions on the following pages. “You may work in pairs.” She answers the many raised hands, and the room is filled by the harsh sound of desks groaning against the floor.

You get up from your desk, leaning into the teacher as she gathers the laminated sheets she had just used for the lesson. “I don’t have a textbook, yet.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” She replies, dropping her pile to shuffle off to her desk. “I completely forgot, in all the excitement.” She hands you the textbook that looks about fifteen years old, the spine cracked to oblivion. She leans in as you grab it, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry about the placement of your desk, just ignore him. There was no one I hated in this classroom enough to place next to him.”

You resist the urge to raise an eyebrow, perplexed at her open disdain for him. It reminded you of the tone of voice Nancy had over the phone, wondering if the whole school was really this open about it. “I’ll live.” You answer, and she winks like you two share a secret.

Your textbook lands harshly on the desk, opening it to the page indicated in white chalk written on the blackboard. God, the reading is four pages, and the questions are a paragraph each. This much reading on the downfall of Mycenae? A jarring noise to your left surprises you, looking up to face his desk come closer and closer.

He leans over, a smile on his face that sends a thrill right through you. “So, how come I’ve never seen you around?”

He talks low, you spend the time hoping he doesn’t notice the goosebumps that trails over your skin. “Uh, I just started today.” You beg yourself to seem normal, to look him in the eyes like a decent conversationalist. You can’t bring yourself to, no matter how hard you try. Somehow you know when you finally look in those eyes of his, you’ll be too mesmerized to look away.

The printed words on the page make no sense, just a blur of boring text in black and white.

He leans back in his chair; you can feel his eyes planted on you. “Ah, makes sense. I would’ve remembered seeing your pretty face around.”

Oh my god he just called me pretty. Surely, he’s lying? Being in his line of sight and being considered good looking enough to him for him to even glance at was never in your wildest imagination, picturing him glazing right over you. Just a bug on the windshield. You gulp, pretending to be infatuated with the page in front of you instead of the man next to you.

“You shy?” He asks. In the corner of your eye, you see him leaning onto his elbow, his eyes staring a hole in your head.

Finally, you tear your glance off the textbook and onto him. God were you right about his eyes. How can a pair of brown eyes be so captivating? They’re a perfect chocolate brown, his mouth in a lopsided expression that sucks the air out of your lungs. “A little.” You admit, distracted by the sound of his fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk.

His limber fingers are dressed in chunky silver rings, the sight of his hands moving distractedly suddenly sends the heat you felt in your stomach earlier into a frenzy, the pull strong and overwhelming. “I can work with that.” A shy smile lands on your face, clenching your teeth as a method of resisting the urge to smile ear to ear. “Can I get a name?”

You tell him and hearing it from his lips is a vice and a half. “And you’re Eddie.” You say before he can introduce himself.

“So, my reputation precedes me.” He laughs, crossing his arms. “Or am I exactly like they said?”

You shrug. “Not exactly.”

His shoulders indicate a silent huff of laughter. “Care to expand on that?”

You shrug again. “You’re just…different.”

The look on his face indicates this answer isn’t good enough, but he doesn’t care to ask you to expand any further. As you work on your homework, finally settling your heartbeat and breathing rate, he writes in a notebook littered with graffiti. His left foot rests on the edge of his desk, the book resting on his thigh as he writes with the dull pencil.

He’s not doing any homework, but he’s at least letting you work on yours. The bell finally rings, dismissing you from your class and the room fills with chatter as everyone packs their bags. “You know where your next class is?”

You shake your head; having told Nancy you could work it out on your own. “Uh, no. It’s AP Calculus with Mr. Warner.”

“Mr. Warner.” He muses, his notebook in one hand and carrying a small metal tin. “Here, I’ll walk you.”

You pause, gulping as your bag rests on one shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” You insist, suddenly realizing he’s about a whole head taller than you.

He smiles, his gaze making you feel…hot. “I didn’t ask, sweetheart.”

The way you gulp, your wide eyes darting back and forth between his, your teeth biting on your bottom lip nervously, Eddie was startled at the physical reaction and it was all going straight to his dick. The urge to shove his thumb between your pretty, plump lips is overwhelming, to say the least.

“Oh.” You answer, fingernails digging into the strap of your backpack. “Then lead the way.”

Eddie shakes his head, starting down the hallway to the other end of the school. As soon as he reaches the classroom, he turns around, leaning against the locker on his arm, neck hunching over you. Oh god, he’s gorgeous. “Will you let me take you out on a date, tonight?”

Every bone in your body wants to say yes, fingers just itching to reach out and touch his lithe hips. “My mom won’t let me go out on a Monday.”

So, that was not a No. “I would’ve asked for Friday, but I can’t wait that long.”

His admission drives you crazy, that heat ever present. Things like this just don’t happen. “Neither can I.” You admit, feeling scared of the rush that overwhelms you, yet scared of the idea of it never happening. You think quickly, biting your lip. “Think you can pick me up from my cousin’s house?”

He squints, crossing his arms as he leans against the locker. “Who’s your cousin?"

“Nancy Wheeler.”

His eyes bug out of the sockets, sighing in disbelief. “You’re cousins with Wheeler?” You nod, wondering if there’s any unspoken animosity between them. “I’ve dropped her kid brother off a few times, I know where she lives. You gonna tell your mom where you’re heading out for the night?”

You shake your head, sure he knows the answer, already.

Eddie huffs, hoping the crotch of his pants won’t give him away. “You ever snuck out before?”

“No.” You answer, looking up as the bell rings. “But I’m sure I can manage.”

You can’t place the expression on his face, somewhere between bewildered and amused.

For the record, it’s pure lust, having just met you and he’s already accidentally convincing you to sneak out for him. He wants you to, wondering if one day you’ll go so far to skip class to have fun with him under the bleachers.

His eyes leer down your body, watching as your skirt dances across your bare thighs while your feet can’t stay in place. He plays with his fingers absentmindedly, just barely resisting the urge to move them past the barrier and watch your face melt in pleasure.

“What time?” Eddie asks, eyes flickering up to your sweet face.

You think about it, knowing you’ll need time to grab at least a dress and get ready at the Wheelers’. “7:30.”

Eddie laughs, turning away from you and back down the hall to where you presumed his class was. “Pick you up at 7.”

“I-I said 7:30!”

“I’ll honk twice!” He answers, hand in his pocket like he didn’t just glue you into place.

The echo of his voice suddenly reminds you the halls are empty, only a few feet away from Mr. Warners classroom. You know more than anyone that AP Calculus students just aren’t late. Maybe he’ll give you grace on your first day.

You ignore the way every set of eyes switch to you, looking around the room for an empty seat. Luckily, Nance has saved one right next to you. “Hi, sorry. Couldn’t find it.”

“That’s alright, take this and have a seat right next to Miss.Wheeler, there.” He offers, gesturing to your cousin.

When the lecture ends and he assigns homework, she gets right to the point. “So, how was History?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “You knew he’d be there.” You accuse, her grin affirming your assumption completely. “A warning would’ve been nice.”

“Not like you had to speak to him.” Nancy sighs, opening her textbook to the page indicated.

You stare at her pointedly, opening your book to a random page. “I sat next to him.”

Nancy instinctively knows something is up, seeing something was on your mind. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“You’ve barely given me a chance.” You comment sarcastically, looking over at her expectant face. “He…he asked me out.”

To say Nancy is surprised at this development would be simply, an understatement. “I’m sorry?”

You grin, finally letting that smile you’ve been hiding take over. “He’s picking me up at 7.”

“Like your mom will let you go out on a weekday.” She squints, knowing your mom’s tendencies to make you prioritize school over anything else.

“…which is why I need you to cover for me.” You hesitate, grinning shyly when she gives you a look of utter disbelief.

“Seriously?” You nod, pleading with her silently. “Fine. But you owe me big.”

You promise to make it up to her.

When the bell rings signifying the end of the day, your heart beats rapidly as the time for your date comes closer and closer. Nancy said she wouldn’t be able to help with your conundrum of the fact that you’ll need a dress and a way to get from your house to Nancy’s.

As you sit next to her while she writes a rough copy of an article wondering who you could possibly get to drive you. You might be shit out of luck. Like an angel, a freckled redhead appears out of nowhere. “Nance, is that the cousin?” She asks, sitting right across from you.

From the look on Nancy’s face, you’re unsure how close they actually are. “Yep.”

“Cool! I’m Robin, over-sharer, anxiety ridden, fast talker. Nice to meet ya.”

You take her extended hands, sort of hypnotized by her warm green eyes. “You too.”

“Hey, Steve busy?” Nancy asks, a million thoughts behind her head.

“Probably not.” Robin offers, getting up from the table. “Why?”

“Oh, she needs a ride.”

Robin eyes you, a smirk landing on her face. “I can convince him.” She side eyes, gesturing for you to follow.

You follow her around the school to the front where you face a handsome lanky dude sitting impatiently as he waits for his friend. When he turns the window down to ask who you are, you realize he’s not just handsome, he’s hot. God, you’ll have to reprimand Nancy for leaving that detail out. “What’s with the guest?”

“She’s Nance’s cousin. She needs a ride, would you mind?”

“What am I, a chauffeur?” Steve asks, face shifting into a deep scowl.

You stop Robin from responding, having an immediate comeback. “I had to listen to my cousin bitch about you for hours. Hours. I think I deserve a little compensation for my time, don’t you?”

Steve smirks, looking from under the hair falling into his face. “Whatever, get in.”

“Where you need a ride to?” He asks as you get into his backseat.

“My house.” You pause, hesitating to say the second location. “Then Nancy’s house.”

Steve squints suspiciously at you in his rear view. “Why two locations?”

“So my date can pick me up tonight.” You admit, glancing out the window shyly.

Robin turns in her seat, jaw dropping open. “Isn’t this your first day?”

You shrug, biting back a smile. “So?”

“Oh shit.” She glances to Steve and back to you. “Who? Do we know him?”

“Um, probably.”

“We know him.” Robin states.

“Turn here, third house on the left…” you tell him, getting out of his car as soon as it stops.

When you get inside your house, you explain to your mom you are way further behind on school than you thought you were and will need some time to get caught up. She asks how late you’ll be, and when you say midnight, she doesn’t even hesitate to let you go.

Thank god you don’t lie, because this should not be this easy. Your hands ruffle through the box of dresses by your bed, grabbing at a few you know look good on you. They’re stuffed into your backpack, cursing yourself for not unpacking your makeup earlier. Hopefully Nancy will be nice enough to lend you some. (You doubt it.)

You rush a love you out to your mom and back into Steve’s back seat, out of breath from running up and down the stairs so damn fast. God, the things you were doing for your goddamn date.

Nancy only lives down a few blocks from you, thus the easy carpool your moms figured out until you get your car. God, in Houston you could’ve just taken a METRORail, you didn’t need a damn car. You thank Steve profusely, thankful for his saving grace.

You would rather tell every member of Hawkins Senior class personally a fun fact about you than go out with Eddie in the same thing you wore to school. You’re shy, not pathetic.

“You don’t owe him anything if you tell us who asked you out.” She calls out of her open window, face full amusement. “C’mon!”

You wait as they pull forward, Steve shaking his head at his best friend’s shenanigans. “It’s Eddie Munson!” You shout, laughing as she shouts a what in utter disbelief.

You wave as they take off, thinking you and her could actually be great friends. She has the kind of spunk you look for in a friend, the same spunk you’ve witnessed in your cousin. A large part of you wonders why they’re not friends.

When your Aunt Karen wonders why she wasn’t alerted, you give the disclaimer you’re just there to catch up on the schoolwork. Your Uncle Ted insinuates Houston must be so far behind Hawkins, and you grit a smile in response, an indent on the tip of your tongue from your teeth. Most of your lessons from the school day you had learned last year, already earning top marks on those questions. The only class that was remotely hard was calculus.

It was borderline hilarious.

You run up the stairs, stomach in knots.

Nancy is nice enough to let you use her makeup, grinning up at you with amusement as you ruffle through the dresses you so hurriedly packed. She gives a definite yes to a dress you knew stands out but worry at the way it just brushes against your thigh, and the neckline dives deeper than what you’re used to.

When it cascades down your body, the look in her stark green eyes tells you everything you need to know. This was the dress. Nancy is kind enough to do your hair, talking quietly with you as she curls your hair.

The half hour leading up to 7 has you lying on her bed, freaking out. She does the homework you’re supposed to be doing, answering your questions vaguely. She tries to make you feel better, grinning cheekily as she never imagined her sweet cousin going on date with Hawkin’s resident metal head.

When two honks occur down the street, you sit up starkly at the sound, biting your lip as you glance to her. “Go. I’ll distract my parents.”

She does, asking them for faux advice in the living room as you sneak past them to the front door, closing it with the most care you could muster. When you don’t hear any commotions, that gives you the go ahead to run down the street to the large van that sticks out, headlights on as it sits idly.

You peer up at him through the passenger window, waving as he unlocks it for you. The lopsided smile on his face starts that heat up again, like he turns on burners all over your body at will. The door shuts behind you, and you smile up at him shyly when he turns down the music.

“You look…wow.” He compliments you, watching the way your eyes look up at him, that beautiful shine.

You assess his outfit, a leather jacket worn with a graphic t-shirt and jeans with rips at the knee. He looked casual, but damn fine regardless. Him losing his metal accessories and devil-may-care look probably would’ve disappointed you, anyway. “So do you.” You offer back, taking in the way he looks as he starts his van and pulls out.

“Thanks.” He winks, turning at a traffic intersection. “So, there are several places we can go, the movies, Hal’s Diner, Benny’s Burgers, bowling alley, the Drive In, up to you, sweetheart.” He insists, driving his van around the small town.

The only thing you want at the current moment is to be in close quarters with him, with the need to kiss him crazy, a need you’ve experienced far too much this quickly. There’s only one thing that allows that. “Drive in.” You decide, the prospect of those same close quarters sending a thrill down your spine.

Eddie signals left, the drive-in location the opposite way from where he’s been driving. “Sounds good, love.”

Eddie doesn’t ignore the way you subtly avoid eye contact from him, shyly looking at your near bare thighs. By the way, were you trying to get a rise out of him with this wonderfully slinky dress you’re wearing? The moment you crawled into his van he was overthrown by your sweet perfume and the way your dress smooths over your gorgeous curves. It’s too hard, impossibly hard, to resist leaning in for your sweet scent, to nuzzle his nose in your neck. The idea that you don’t want to leave the intimacy of the van any more than he does is enough to bring the urge to readjust the crotch of his jeans.

By the time he pulls up into the far corner of the lot, turning on his radio so it connects with the movie mid-beginning credit scene, you take in the sparce parking lot, only a few vehicles spread apart sporadically. Well, you wanted intimate. You wanted close, now you've got it. His freshly showered self with the mix of his cologne just adding fuel to the ever-increasing fire.

This fire suddenly sends the need to squeeze your legs together, not completely understanding the feeling, but there’s an inkling. An instinct that on some level you know what it is, but no one ever warned you it could be this intense.

The first act of the movie is shared by you and Eddie laughing at the same jokes together, grabbing candy from his hands when he offers it. You sip on a straw in a glass coke bottle, if only to calm the nerves combined with heat that has completely overshadowed any sense you seem to have. Eddie leans back comfortably in his fabric covered seat, a hand landing on your bare thigh.

Oh, that turned up the heat several notches. It starts to become clearer that this heat is what can now be more clearly defined as a want. A want for…more of his hands, further up, him, close to you. Closer.

As your thighs tense and clench under his touch, Eddie can’t hold back any more like he planned. His other hand is tucked under your chin, lifting your big eyes to look up at his. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, your mouth parting as you look up at him with stars in your eyes. “Can I?”

Your eyebrows furrow, breath stuttering as you peer up at him. You nod your head, glancing at his shiny pink lips. Every inch of air is tugged from your lungs as he leans forward, lips open as he places them on yours.

Eddie had every intention of kissing you delicately, the way he knows you deserve to be kissed, gently and patiently. As soon as the whimper leaves your throat and vibrates into his mouth, he forgets his good intentions. The kiss turns dirty, fast, the pressure of his spread hand increasing in the best fucking way, making your body fold involuntarily towards him.

Just when you’re enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours, mewling pathetically against his lips, Eddie starts to kiss down your throat. You sigh, leaning back as that heat finally gains a resolve. Oh, god you're horny. Is that what that is? No wonder teenage boys are such perverts.

The combination of teeth and tongue is everything you needed and more; every muscle feeling like jelly as his lips and hands work like magic over you. Eddie licks a strip up to your ear, a startled and blissful moan filling up the car. He skips right past the pleasantries, past any inclination that you were anything other than wild for eachother. “You ever touch yourself, sweetheart?”

Only God knows why, but the dirty sentence just makes you hungrier for him, more eager. However, the answer to that jarring question is an honest and stuttered, “No.”

Eddie separates from you, giving you a look, you can’t quite place. “Wait, really?” You confirm it, breathing heavily, gasping as his eyes visibly darken. “So, you’ve never cum before?”

The sentence makes your eyes widen, gulping at that gorgeous face of his. You think you know what he means, but you still need clarification.

“Orgasm, princess. Have you ever had an orgasm?” He asks, a hand placed on your cheek as he watches your reaction.

Oh. That’s what you thought. That’s an absolute and definitive, “No.”

His fingers increase their pressure, a reflex of from his reaction. God, you’re more innocent than he even knew. The idea of even teaching you what it means to get off sends a swoop through his gut, picturing you looking at him with those wide eyes as he corrupts you.

God, does he want to corrupt you. He wants to corrupt every inch of you, turn you into someone who begs him to skip class so you can guzzle on his cock. The way you stare up at him waiting for a response, eyes glazed over as you wait for him to continue kissing you, as if you don’t even remember you’re at a drive in to begin with.

His cock has never hurt so much from the blood pulsing through it, probably an angry red at this point.

“Can I give you one?” He asks, thumb starting to rub on your bottom lip again.

“An-an orgasm?” You stutter, voice squeaking through the question. He’s gorgeous, the way he stares down at you, those same chocolate brown eyes making that heat pool. Despite the fear, the arousal is greater. “Uh, sure.”

He smirks, watching your eyes dart back and forth nervously. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.” You confirm, pulling him for the kiss you so desperately crave. You weren’t sure how it happens, your hands having a damn mind of their own. Despite him pulling away, he slips back into the kiss easily, the hand on your thigh and hand on your face making you feel dizzy.

You’ve had kisses before, but you knew you were missing something in them. At last, you’ve found it, desperately clinging onto his kiss. God, he’s good at making you turn into mush, relaxing into his seats almost completely.

His hand inches up your thigh, waiting for you to protest. Your breath hitches as he gets closer and closer. “I'm gonna make you feel so good.” He promises, his hot breath turning you into a liquid. Finally, his hand lands on the cotton of your underwear, his strokes tugging mewls into his open mouth. “Shit, you’re soaked, baby. You even know how much you want me? Probably confusing, hmm?”

He puts pressure at the top, rubbing small circles and it feels like fire is set to your center, gasping as your concentration falls apart. His fingers feel good, in a way you didn’t think was possible. Words in your mind echo the thought of how damn good he feels, mouth attempting to tell him, but nothing comes out but wanton gasps.

Eddie watches you wither in his chair, legs opening for him. Sure, giving you an orgasm is a fierce turn on, but knowing you’ve never experienced any type of pleasure or want is sent straight to his cock. He remembers learning how good it felt to start rubbing his cock when it got hard, how often he started doing it when he realized it led to something.

All he wants to do is turn you into a pervert, one orgasm at a time.

That same warmth that’s made home in your gut starts to build, your thighs tensing up when it occurs to you what its building to. “Fuck.” You gasp, Eddie humming at the swear that leaves your lips. “Close, and I haven’t even really touched you, hmm?” He muses, lips starting to add a second sensation on your neck with his hot and wet tongue.

He pushes your underwear aside, fingers finally making direct contact with the wet slick of your folds. “Eddie.” You gasp. The skin on skin makes your head spin, clutching onto his leather jacket with desire. The pleasure jumps up thirty notches, that build reaching an all-time high. Nothing has ever felt better, never so fantastic. Again, now you understand why teenagers are such perverts.

“Let me see you cum, I can feel it coming, baby.” He whispers, licking his lips.

He slides a finger deep in you, the sudden intrusion alien but welcome. On the edge, you become even more completely desperate for him. How was his finger even better? How was that possible? The feat thrills you, happily and willingly giving into everything he gives you. “Damn. Baby. You look so fucking good, think you can cum for me?”

His fingers hook within you, and it pushes you over the edge you’ve been staring down, stars invading your vision, the heat you’ve felt everywhere, all at once. Your tight entrance pulses around his fingers, twitching, not aware of the loud, whiny moans that Eddie’s sure the concession stand less than twenty feet away can hear, but he’s proud of it, grinning maniacally at his hard work.

He guides you through it, thrusting his fingers as he watches you come apart under his touch. When you stop shaking, his hand rubs your pussy gently, admiring the slick that is now pooled down your thighs and even onto his chair. He smirks, catching your eye when they finally open to face him. “How’re you doing, love?”

You forget to be shy in your smile, grinning maniacally as you grab him, yanking him in for a hot, wet kiss. It’s even dirtier than before, attempting to show him how grateful you feel for his magical fingers. “That was…so…good.” You mumble, smiling wider when you can feel him do the same.

“Feels good, hmm?” He asks, his fingers still stroking you gently.

“Jesus.” You answer, thighs convulsing involuntarily.

Eddie chuckles, amused that it takes you cumming to cum out of your shell. “You’re pretty like this, you know?” You roll your eyes, and he can feel the dismissal of his compliment. “Can I eat you out, baby?” It shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but it is. You barely know any of this terminology, and he can feel you tense up below him, your once liquid limbs turning to steel. “You have no idea what that means, do you, baby?”

You shake your head, gulping in the embarrassment.

“That’s ok. Of course, I don’t mind helping you.” Eddie doesn’t mind. When he says that he’s under exaggerating, not showing an ounce of his true feelings. How much does it take for you to squirm under his dirty words? How much patience does he have before he begs you to let him shove his hardened cock down your throat. How long will it be until you’re riding him like a porn star? If he was even slightly sleezier, he’d bet on it with someone. “I’d make that pretty pussy feel even better with my tongue.”

Oh. That sounds miles better than anything your brain could’ve come up with. You bite your lip, staring up at him with pure want. “You’d do that?”

“If you’re willing to come into the back with me.” He muses, nodding his head to his elongated trunk. You turn your head, facing a fleece blanket placed on the floor of the van with a few pillows. Did he do this for you, or is it always this nice?

Eddie doesn’t think you can get any cuter, but when you nod excitedly, starting to crawl into the back before he can say anything, he’s proven dead wrong. He’s never been so happy to be wrong. As you crawl, he watches your ass, your underwear still pulled to the side as the shine on your folds is still visible in the light of the movie.

He smiles, crawling as soon as you land awkwardly on the floor of the van. You sit cross legged waiting for him, one spaghetti strap fallen off your shoulder as you bite your lip anxiously. It doesn’t help Eddie that the strap on your shoulder starts to reveal a breast, just peeking at the top of the nipple. He’s barely seen you, just at the tip of the iceberg of touching you, and he’s about to pop from the anticipation.

How are you doing this to him so easily?

Eddie leans in for a kiss, something as soft as he wanted to give you the moment he saw you sitting in the desk next to his, but his hormones got the worst of him. He kisses each bare shoulder, admiring the way you relax into it. His long fingers reach to the already fallen strap, fingers brushing as he tugs it down further, fully exposing the partially exposed tit. Your heart races, loud, too loud, in your temple and you wonder if he can hear it.

Eddie can’t, as heartbeats are usually inaudible to the naked ear. He can hear, however, the way those sweet breaths get louder, faster, and even more utterly pathetic for him. Eddie feels a goal take over his mind like a parasite, one he welcomes with a bed made. He plans to make you moan and whine louder so that everyone within ten miles can hear how good you feel, what a good whore you are—he’s getting ahead of himself.

Right now, he focuses on making you feel comfortable, helping you become at ease so you will never be self-conscious with him, never afraid of being too loud, or too eager. He can’t imagine ever thinking otherwise with you. He thought he knew the definition of impossible, but now he knows he had no clue.

Every sensible, distinguishable thought has left your brain, too focused on how good his tongue and teeth feel as he expertly works on your beaded nipple. His brain is going a million miles per hour, yours left behind in the middle of a desert. His hand guides the other strap down your shoulder, fully exposing your chest, the soft material falling so it sits wrapped around your hips.

Teeth scrape against the curve of your breast, as if his tongue is attempting to taste every inch, every centimetre of it. One hand smoothing the skin just below them. Wet kisses trail down your torso, tongue dipping into your navel, the sweet swell of your stomach, his dull nails digging into your soft flesh, the pain adding to the beauty of the mixed sensations.

Your pussy is raging in fire, shouting for the same attention he had been so generous at providing. He feels your thighs tensing, attempting to provide friction for yourself where you need it the most. “Does it hurt, baby?” He asks, mouth now at the base of your neck. “Does that sweet pussy hurt for it?” You nod, rubbing your thighs like a damn cricket. “Oh, I know, I’ll make it all feel better, don’t you worry.”

He admires your face, the way your eyes are closed with the muscles beautifully crumpled up.

“Lie down for me, and I’ll eat that fucking pretty pussy.” Without hesitation, you lay down, shifting your body so you can lie comfortably on the floor of the van.

When you do, his hands tug at the fabric around your waist, not pulling it off you, just clutching it like a vice. They slink under it, fingers tight on the waistband on your panties as he pulls them down your legs. As they leave your feet, pulling them around your heels, Eddie stares at the drenched middle, fingers playing with the thick slick that had gathered. Eddie seems to have a talent for stealing the air from your lungs, doing so as you watch him taste them. “Taste so fucking good, sweets.” He makes a show of placing them into his back pocket, shooting a wink when you give him a questioning look.

He adjusts himself onto his forearms, both hands landing on the top of your thighs as his head dives in between them. Your thigh muscles tense in his hold, begging him for mercy, any kind. “Eddie…please…I need…I need—”

He chuckles, bending over your wanton body. “I love how you say my name, but I’m gonna make you scream it.” He mutters, the scent of your arousal making his vision fizzle.

Finally, finally, his tongue touches you, relishing in the immediate whine that leaves your lips. He hums against you, enjoying the way your legs move restlessly. The first touches are so delicate, your heels digging in his (still) clothed back and grinding your hips to force more contact. “That’s a girl, take what you want from me.” He praises you, hand stroking your thigh gently.

The simple instruction drives your hips to grind more, Eddie’s tongue licking up your slick folds harder in response. At this point, fire isn’t a hot enough word to describe the heat in your pussy. Eddie starts to focus on your clit, his ears suddenly muffled by your thighs abruptly closing on his head. He starts a rhythm, switching back and forth, listening to how your sweet whines answer him.

Any thoughts occurring in your head are long gone, all out of your mouth before your brain even knows you’re thinking it. You wonder how you didn’t think of this, ‘how the first thing you thought when you saw Eddie not how good he would look between your legs’?

Answer: the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life. (Spoiler, there will be better things.)

Eddie is more than happy to play with you, to listen how you react to every touch he provides. So far, his favourite sound is when his tongue enters your sopping hole, fucking it gloriously. It was the first truly uninhibited sound he managed to pull from you. Every decision he made for you was purposeful, doing his damn best to send you over the edge again. He wonders how willing he is to put off his own pleasure for the sake of yours.

Honestly, to hear you come apart repeatedly is 1000% worth it to him, even if he has to rut against the floor of the van.

“Cl-close, Eddie.” You tell him, that sudden ending sneaking up on you. “So, so, so, so, good!”

Eddie takes your admission with pride, and as the stars invade your vision, your every limb tensing as you cum, he keeps going.

In your post orgasm haze, the over sensitivity of your pussy is overwhelming. However, his continuing and relentless mouth feels so good you relish in it, absolutely sure your legs will be sore from the constant convulsing. You whimper through a hushed and delayed swear, your hands weaving through his curls and tugging on his scalp.

His thumb meets your clit, rubbing feverishly and driving another orgasm out of you faster than you ever expected. His name is music to his ears as you shout it when the orgasm takes over you. “Fuck, Eddie, mouth feels…ah!”

His brown eyes open, nose nuzzling your clit as he stares at you through those darkened eyes. His tongue licks a long stripe, chin resting the mound of your pubic bone. “Think you can handle a few more?”

Your chest heaves, struggling to catch your breath as you lift your head up to face him. Your head feels like a weight, too heavy on your neck. Your mouth opens to answer him, but the weight of your head wins, landing back on the van.

Eddie works your clit again, watching your breasts move up and down as you struggle to catch your breath. “Maybe not that many more, hmm? Maybe just one?” …if he’s strong enough to hold back from giving you two.

Stopping at this point would give you a break you need, but at the same time you can’t bear to, Eddie’s tongue acting as a siren’s song. You’re hypnotized by him. “More, please. Please keep going.”

“I love hearing your voice beg for me. Your whimpers are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life, sweets.”

Eddie dives in again, your choked whimpers telling any near neighbors that you simply don’t remember they exist. They’re not important enough to care about anymore.

As much as you are sensitive to every single touch, even over-stimulated, you welcome the next three orgasms he gives you. At the end of your third, or sixth, orgasm, Eddie rests his chin on your mound again, staring up at you as you recollect yourself. He’s patient, watching the light making its way back into your eyes.

Eddie nearly asks you a question, when your hand reaches out to grab him by his leather collar. He lets out a yelp of surprise, his fully clothed form an odd juxtaposition against your completely naked one. Well, save for the dress still on your waist. Your lips meet, tongues gliding against each other beautifully, and you taste yourself in his mouth. Even with your brain as foggy as it is, your body feeling as weak as it does, the number one thing you can focus on is getting those clothes off him.

Your hands fidget on the harsh leather collar, forcing it off his back. “Take it off,” you tell him, Eddie grinning cheekily in response. As soon as his jacket is off, you feel the graphic shirt start to come off with it. The reveal of his patched treasure trail, his bare skin against yours a marvel of sensations. You become impatient, attempting to hurry the process of taking his shirt off.

A symphony of laughter leaves his lips as his shirt finally is tossed off to the side, watching your eyes marvel at his tattoo littered chest. Your tits pressed against him pulls a groan from his lips, a sound that drives your legs to tug his tented jeans down against your bare pussy. If you thought his tongue felt good, it’s nothing compared to his hips against yours.

His voice is strained, dripping in husk. “Sh-shit, doll. I-I need you. Need to feel that virgin pussy wrapped around my cock. Need it so bad, please.”

Eddie begging like this being such a turn on is a surprise, to say the least. And from the pleasure he gave you, you’re willing him to do whatever he wants to you.

Whatever. He wants.

“Really? You want me?” You ask, whining as he ruts again.

“Desperately.”

Your hand moves down to the button of his jeans, undoing it with shaky hands and even shakier breathing. “You gonna take my virginity, Eddie?”

Somehow you knew this would make him crazy. You enjoyed it, enjoyed the crazy, adored his moan in approval. “I’m gonna take you, baby.” He grunts, starting to move his jeans down his ass, legs, taking his briefs with them.

He’s quick about it, tongue against your skin as he grabs the dress around your waist and slowly drags it down your legs, tongue dragging down along with it. Slyly, he holds a condom from his pants pockets between two fingers. “You ready?”

You bite your lip, making the bottom lip swell from the constant fidgeting. “I’m on birth control…” you admit, only on it to regulate a heavy flow.

He makes a show of tossing the condom over his shoulder, grinning at his crazy eyes. “Well, shit, darling.” He leans in, feeling the size of him as it brushes against your hip. He’s big, right? “Before I enter that pussy, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Hmm?” You ask, the only thing in your mind is how good his bulge felt when it rutted up against your heat. If that felt that good? Sex with Eddie…your mind goes dizzy from the need.

Eddie takes your hand resting by your head, wrapping it around his hardened length. The moan that leaves his lips is deep and rough. Your unsure fingers allow him to assist you, getting a hold of the rhythm. When you do, he lets you take over, face falling in your neck when your grip tightens. “Okay, I can’t take it any longer.” He whispers, gentle, goosebumps erupting in their wake. “Here, help me, will you?”

You don’t ask, only because you don’t have the chance to, when his hips help you brush the head of his cock against your wet entrance. You tease the two of you simultaneously, brushing it numerous times, both of you gasping in harmony. “Oh, you little tease.”

His hand replaces yours, whining as the head finally, finally brushes into your entrance. “Eddie.” You whisper, clinging onto him desperately. “S-so, so, so full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, both winded by the feel of you and by the blissed look on your face. Maybe if he kisses the middle of your eyebrow enough, he can settle every wrinkle you demonstrate from the pain beautifully mixed with pleasure. “Look at you, so drunk on it, did you ever think a cock could make you feel this good? Ever think how much you could want to be fucked so desperately?”

You shake your head, drunk on his words, drunk on his cock. “More, please.”

“Think you can take it?”

You whine impatiently, legs attempting to pull him in harder. “Eddie.”

He smiles as you fall into his trap, pushing in more than he knows he should. He can’t help it, the smile that takes over your face is the perfect reward. “I thought you were shy?”

You roll your eyes, knowing when someone is this close to you, has seen this much of you, there is barely any time to be shy. “Shut up.”

He listens, kissing you deeply as his hips start to move. Your hand weaves itself into his hair, whimpering into his ear as he hits, deeper, harder.

You can’t fully understand the sounds coming out of his mouth, the once coherent, cocky sentences turn into mumbled groans, and it’s refreshing to know he seems to want you as you did him, craved for you the same way. A string of words on repeat come from your mouth, just his name.

The only thing you seem to be able to think of is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, EddieEddieEddieEddie…

“God, your tight pussy, I’m gonna cum soon…” At least, that’s what you think he says. “Gonna fill you up…” You tighten around him, enjoying the prospect of it. “Gonna see it dripping out of you.”

He doesn’t know how it’s possible you tighten around him more.

“God, you take me so well, it’s like you were made for me, made for my cock.”

Head? Empty. Cunt? Full.

Him? Perfect.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Listen to those dirty little words, gonna turn you into a filthy whore.” He whispers, whining together with you in bliss as his hips rut a final, harsh, jagged time.

Time seems to be endless, as he whispers in your ear, hands on his broad back when he settles, keeping his cock warm. Time is so endless; you don’t even notice the movie turning off and the subtle turnover of engines and wheels driving off past the van.

It takes a poor teenage employee to knock on the van doors, politely asking if you could leave because the drive-in is closed, and they need to lock the gate.

To say the way you avoid their eyes after hurriedly putting your dress back on turns Eddie on would be an understatement.

To say when you waltz with him hand in hand down the hallways the next day turns into a sideshow, would be an even bigger understatement.

You sit on his lap during lunch, curious to the reaction of the other boys sitting with him. When Eddie slips his hand under your skirt and plays with your clothed cunt, he knows he’s just starting to corrupt you as you attempt to seem normal.

He’s just getting started.

Regular taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist requests: @trixyvixx @thirddeadlysin @rogerfxckingtaylor @bunnsandroses @angst-lasagna @whatwedontdointheshadows @tlclick73 @barbedwirebats @poofyloofy @skrzydlak @josephquinnsfreckles

Thanks for all the love!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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probablybadrpgideas · 9 months

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Should you hug this monster?

Aberrations: Aberrations don't know what hugs are, so naturally, you should show them. Teach them hugs and they can teach you about squibbleblappening! Being squibbleblappened isn't as great if you lack tentacles but to be fair hugging loses a lot without skin.

Beasts: Absolutely hug the beasts. All animals are cuddleable without exception. I, mod pencil, fully endorse this advice and take full legal responsibility for any consequences of people acting on it.

Celestials: A good way to distinguish if you're a good person is to hug a celestial. If you are a good person, you will get a literally heavenly hug. If you are a bad one, you will be instantly obliterated with divine fire and sent to hell. It's a refreshing burst of simplicity in an often complex world.

Constructs: All constructs will attempt to hug you if you ask them to but in 90% of cases this is not a survivable experience. Maybe try being made of a less crushable material if you want to hug a construct?

Dragons: I mean you're not really the one deciding on hugs here. You're the cute harmless little animal in this is scenario, so the dragon is going to hug you. It may also put you in a funny outfit and upload the photos on Instagram. Sorry about this.

Elemental: Roll a d4 for nothing, moist, inert or dead. So about normal for hugging someone.

Fey: Hug a fey but only on a harvest moon in a space between nature and civilization while wearing your socks inside out and making sure to say nothing that could be interpreted as a promise or a question and be sure to bow afterwards and dance widdershins back home.

Fiend: Neutral evil fiends are the best to hug. Like, they'll steal your wallet and organs, but compared to being eaten or bound to eternal servitude, it's a pretty nice hug.

Giants: Some slight mechanical difficulties here but beyond that, you should be good. Ask the giant to aim you at the shops afterwards and get your groceries done at the same time.

Humanoids: Hug a humanoid? Gross!

Monstrosity: Monstrosities are good to hug but they won't let you hug them because you called them a monstrosity. That's really rude :(

Ooze: Under no circumstannnnnnnn PutT ArMs In M Oose nOw pls Is GoOd anD TasTy

Plant: God if only there was a term for this

Undead: Really it's just like hugging a normal person if hugs killed you. If it helps, at least you have good reason to think death might a glow up?

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eumivrse · 6 months

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warning(s) pure angst, jjk chapter 120 SPOILERS

arguments with kento are always the worst.

you’ve learned over the years that you’d probably prefer it if he would just scream back when he’s mad rather than being dead silent.

because when he’s angry, he doesn’t speak. he just gives you space to cool off, then he always makes sure to kiss you before you sleep. a way to let you know that tomorrow is a new day and he still loves you the same even if things are heated; that you can always talk it out with him.

you hate it because he always, always apologizes first even if it’s your fault sometimes, but you always appreciated his way of communicating. it’s as if he would rather take the jab every time than have you mad at him.

however, he couldn’t do so that day— october 31, 2018. he had to go to shibuya and left with tension between the two of you. you don’t even remember what exactly you argued about— all you recall was that it ended with you both saying something that could’ve easily passed as unforgivable, words specifically chosen to wound each other’s feelings.

and as per, kento gave you your space and left with you having the last word.

except you never got that good night’s kiss.

when news reached you, you didn’t even react. how could you? the last words you said to him was “then leave already,” with the coldest, meanest tone you’ve ever spoken to him in.

you just stared at the wall for what seemed like days. people were calling you non stop, but your phone was turned off. you hadn’t even left your shared bedroom. the comforter still had his scent on it and you’re afraid that it’ll disappear if you get up for even a minute and then his passing will feel real.

it wasn’t until ino stopped by to drop off his cellphone— one of the only traces he left that night— that you did something else besides laying down. you stared at kento’s scuffed lock screen, sitting at the dim dining room table.

his wallpaper was a photo of you. he took it while you were eating in the very place you’re sitting in right now and you begged him for days to delete it. he insisted that you looked pretty so you let him be. he’d always been like that, so stern with others but he had such a soft spot for you.

you knew his password because it was your anniversary date, then the messaging app opened as soon as you punched the numbers in. it’s your chat, the last conversation you had on there was him asking if you wanted to eat outside because he was free the next morning and you obliged. that was the night before you had an argument the next day and lunch plans were cancelled.

he had an unsent message— all typed out, but he never pressed the send button for some reason.

he was apologizing for hurting you.

he said that he knows it’s been tough for you these days and how he should’ve seen the signs sooner instead of thinking everything’s okay.

then he apologized again for not being able to kiss you goodnight, and for being a shitty husband that couldn’t tend to his wife’s needs.

the message concluded with “i miss you, my precious girl. make sure to eat and sleep well, i’ll make it up to you soon.”

kento’s death hadn’t hit your reality until those words on the screen registered in your mind. your dry, pale lips from barely drinking water trembled, eyes welled up in tears for the first time since you found out. so many different emotions crashed over you in such little time, your chest felt tight and you let go of his phone, clattering onto the wooden table.

“then leave already,” replayed in your mind over and over and the way his face turned pale from your harsh words. with how things turned out, it almost sounded like you were sending him on death’s row and it made you feel like you’re responsible somehow.

guilt loomed over you like a stormy cloud for making him feel like he wasn’t good enough for you and you wonder how different the future might’ve turned out if you’ve at least gave him a hug before he left.

if you could’ve just set your pride aside and kissed him goodbye like he does with you before you sleep.

and if he still loved you the same at his final moments.

#yikes #why am i feeling guilty lolol #mentally preparing myself when it gets animated #might not be accurate to the plot but tbh idc #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #nanami angst #kento nanami #nanami kento angst

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fraugwinska · 7 days

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What about the reader found and old radio, they thought the radio was broken but it's not, it's just antique.. when they play it at night time alastor broadcast was heard first they feel something is odd.. but they love to listen to his voice, heck they even like talking to each other, because of this encounter alastor talk about it to rosie, she was happy hearing alastor telling her stories but she feel odd when alastor mention that the person he talks to is a human, Rosie giving him advice to not fall for human because they're different species, and it will make him weak etc.

Alastor feel guilty and agree with rosie advice so he's stop contacting the reader from the radio, he thinks that the reader will be fine but no the reader take it personally.. they thought alastor don't want to talk to them anymore.. it drive them mad and lead to suicide..

So yeah angst :D

Oh Anon. What have you done.

I cried while I wrote that - it took two very good friends of mine to encourage me to post it (Thanks to @macabr3-barbi3 and @mysterypotatoink). But I think it's tragic and beautiful, and honestly - I'm kinda proud of it!

TW: Psychological Trauma, descend into madness, loss of self care and suicide - please take care of yourself and do not read if you aren't comfortable with any of the mentioned! MINORS DNI

Here we go.

❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️🦌❤️

Leap of Faith

You carried in the last box from you banged-up minivan. The old thing barely made it to your new home. A little cabin in the outskirts of New Orleans, a little off the grid and surrounded by the peaceful and whirring bayous of Louisiana.

A fixer-upper, just like yourself.

The online auction had intrigued you the second you found it, the photos were a bit blurry and you knew it was a risk to buy a place you've never set foot in, but something in you called you to get it. The price you paid was laughable, barely making a dent in your savings. Moving states sounded scary and impossible, but you felt oddly calm about it.

You didn't have a lot of stuff to move anyway. After all, you only lived with your late grandmother, and she never really cared for material things. Your parents left you at her doorstep, never to be seen again.

Caring for her in her last, sickness-ridden years had been a no-brainer - it felt like nothing in comparison to all she had done for you - but it also had been a bit lonely.

You had your friends, if you could even call them that, but you rarely saw them - guiding your nan through the last months of her life had been demanding and time-consuming. It had left you exhausted and emotionally unavailable, and after a while, calls and texts ceased, until it was just you and her. You felt lost, as if the world was slowly pulling away from you.

When she finally died, peacefully in her sleep, you felt sad, relieved and drained.

Detached from the city you lived in.

Lost.

So you decided to sell what little you inherited, except for a few sentimental mementos, and move away from it all. To start a new life, a happier one, finally one that was truly your own.

You took the final box inside, setting it on the coffee table and wiped the sweat from your brow. You looked around the little cabin: The roof had some spots that needed a patch, and the wood floors were a bit warped, but it was all yours. No more having to share anything with anyone.

The cabin came furnished, a lot of the stuff was old, but still usable. You figured that would change once you settled in and had a vision of what you wanted and needed to buy. The thought of thinking about no one but yourself made you nervous.

But a little excited, too.

The old furniture would do for the moment, but there was a particular piece that caught your eye: an old, vintage cathedral radio, sitting nestled in between a cracked wooden box and a tarnished, bronze candle holder in a bookcase that was a bit out of place in the tiny space. With a tilted head, you stepped closer to inspect it, drawn to it by it's unique character and beauty.

It looked as well-loved as it looked well-used, the mahogany a bit scuffed, the knobs a little worn from years of being turned. But there were golden details etched into the front, and you traced them lightly with a finger, strangely touched and intrigued.

You were certain the old thing didn't work, but when you plugged it into the nearby socket, static erupted from the speakers, making you jump back. You had to smile, though.

Tonight, you wouldn't be alone. You'd have this little device and a little music for good company.

***

"I'm home!" you announced to no one in particular, as you closed the door behind you, your hands full with overfilled grocery bags full of necessities, waiting to fill your empty cabinets.

The day had been hot, but a welcome breeze of the impending night break cooled the inside of your little cabin a bit. With a quiet grunt you set the paper bags down at the small kitchenette. Your groceries were quickly dispersed, and you put on an apron you saved from your grandmother as you got started on dinner.

You hummed as you cut vegetables and boiled water. It had been a long time since you had cooked, really cooked, your nan wasn't much for eating and had no problem living off of simple soups and toast. When you opened your fridge to get some butter, your glance fell onto the radio.

A little music would be nice, you decided, and you walked over, cleaning your hands on the red, frilly cloth around your waist before you turned the dial. The soft sound of static made you hum in contempt - yup. Still works. A little turn to the left, and the room was filled with a soft jazzy tune, the melody a bit grainy, but you didn't mind that at all. You returned to the stove, swaying your hips to the beat as you worked. The music made you feel at ease, and for a moment, the world seemed to be just right.

Just as the onions began to brown in the pan, the song faded out to a voice. You turned your head to the radio, intrigued by the unusual, eccentric accent of the host. It reminded you of the old, vintage films and recordings your grandmother had been fond of - wasn't it called 'transatlantic'?. Whatever it was, it made you smile.

"Now wasn't that a kick in the head, dearest listener? I sure hope you enjoyed the little musical interlude, but it's time to return to the real show! As usual, my name is Alastor, and you are listening to the best jazz, blues and swing music that Hell has to offer!"

You blinked, a little puzzled and yet amused. "Sure is hot as hell today, strange man in the radio.", you mumbled, chuckling as you stirred the bell peppers under the caramelized onions.

"Today we have a very special guest joining my humble broadcast, it seems. Pleasure to meet you, darling, quite the pleasure!"

"Oh who? Me?" you asked, looking theatrically over your shoulder with batted lashes, shaking your head over your own silliness. You weren't used to talking out loud to yourself, or even really thinking out loud. You were always alone, after all, but the little pretend-play was fun. You laughed a bit, waiting for the host's guest to speak.

"Of course you, little dove. Who else would I mean?"

You gasped, and nearly dropped the spoon as you whipped around, eyes glued to the humming, orange glow of the radio in the dim darkness of your living room.

"What's that? You're surprised, my dear? Don't worry, you're not the only one! This is a first for me, too. Never had a human join my program. I must say, I'm quite intrigued! Tell me, what is your name?"

Your eyes grew wide, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. You took a hesitant step backwards and hit the hot stove, making you curse under your breath. Was the heat finally getting to you?

"Don't be shy now, darling. I'm not gonna hurt you, cross my lil' old, blackened heart."

"I-I'm..." you began, swallowing as your fingers tightened around the wooden spoon. "My name is..."

"Yes?"

"I'm... crazy.", you mumbled, rubbing a hand over your face and chuckling a bit. You were just going insane, that's all. Must be the stress, combined with the intense heat. And lack of a companion, a tiny voice reminded you. Yes. Must be.

"Hello crazy, this is Alastor." The host laughed, together with a canned audience.

"Alastor...", you repeated, realization settling in - this wasn't a joke, or a trick of your mind.

"At your service, my dear.", the voice cooed. "Now, I believe you still owe me your name..."

***

You weren't crazy.

Or if you were, you didn't mind. Not with Alastor by your side - or, to be exact, in the radio on your bookcase.

After two weeks of ignoring the cursed radio after unplugging it in a wave of panic on your first night, your morbid curiosity got the better of you. You plugged it back in, and turned on the dial. Just once, you told yourself, then never ever again.

And that's how the two of you got in contact with each other once more. Alastor was as chipper as the first time you heard him, and after a bit of back-and-forth, he promised once again not to harm you, and you shared your name with him. The rest was history. He was very pleasant company. For a demon from hell.

You wouldn't classify the conversations you had with him as a real friendship in the beginning, but you did talk. Occasionally. Mostly in the evenings, when you cooked dinner: He'd ask you about your day and would pry eagerly for a little bit of gossip or new information about the modern New Orleans. When he let it slip that he lived in this very cabin in the 1920's, you weren't stopping with questions about what it was like back in his days, which he, in return, answered generously and enthusiastically.

The first few times he would try to coerce you into making a deal for your soul, casually sprinkling the offer into his small talk, but with enough blunt refusals and a few more days of radio silence (pun intended), he dropped the topic and seemed content on just talking. You, in return, found yourself relaxing into his charming company, your brain happily engaged with trying to wrap your head around him, or better, you tried to come to terms with it.

Weeks passed, and turning the radio on in the evenings became less of an occasional lapse of judgment but more of a routine you were looking forward to. You could tell the Alastor felt the same, his banter became less tense and acted, and a little more genuine.

It made your heart swell in happiness, that someone out there seemed to appreciate your company – even if that someone wasn't human.

Apprehension became amusement, and fascination became friendship. Oddly enough, you found common grounds in a lot of things: A love for cooking and good music. Preferring books over films. Red wine over white. A shared aversion of vulgarity, and appreciation for good manners.

Your nights were cut shorter and shorter, you would spend hours chatting on and on, until the deep darkness of night disappeared into a shade of blue on the horizon. Neither of you minded, at least that was what you thought. Alastor never ended the conversations with you. Either you had to say your goodbyes, or you would just fall asleep after hours of talking on your couch, and awake with a pained back to a shut-off radio. Then, after you'd realize that you would have a whole day ahead of you without hearing his voice, the loss would make your chest ache.

Two months into the 'thing', which was still a strange concept you could barely comprehend, the truth of the matter dawned on you: You liked him. Not just because he was a surprisingly amicable voice coming out of your vintage radio, a lively constant in the uneventful life you had made for yourself in Louisiana - he had become important to you, irreplaceable, even. An essential element to your life. You couldn't imagine how you'd gone so long without him, and yet, here you were, lost without him, scrambling through the hours until you could talk to him once more.

"Something on your mind, darling? You're awfully quiet today."

You held your fork and knife still above the salmon you had just been about to eat. It was the first meal of the evening in a long time where you weren't spending the entirety of the preparation time speaking to him, lost in thought about your blossoming feelings. He had gotten excellent at reading you like an open book - you should've gotten used to it after a couple of weeks of him catching on to every little change in your demeanor and knowing just what to say, when you were feeling happy, upset or nervous.

"Oh, um... no. It's nothing Al. Work had me in a wringer today."

"Is it your co-worker Susan again?" You could basically hear his eyes rolling, making you chuckle. "That name must be cursed, every single soul with that name is a menacing pain."

"Maybe,", you muttered, nibbling on a piece of the roasted fish. "This one is mostly just an ornery old bitch."

"Taking the words right out of my mouth, dear." he laughed.

There's was a comfortable pause, with just a gentle background noise of his ever-playing static and an easy, melodic tune coming from his program.

"Is that really all that preoccupies that pretty little head of yours?"

You blushed, picking at the food with your fork. "Bold for a guy who's never seen me to assume my head is pretty."

The radio crackled with pops and feedback. "Bold to assume I can't see you whenever I want, little dove." he said, his voice strangely deeper, tinged with something you didn't catch at the shock of his words.

"You... what?"

"And I can most assure you,", he purred out of the speakers, "pretty is a well fitting word to describe you."

He hummed in approval when your cheeks gained color, as if he knew his comment threw you off guard and made you turn a lovely shade of pink, but it didn't make it any less enticing.

***

"Alastor, if I didn't know better, I would say you have become smitten with this mysterious gal you're blabbing on and about."

Rosie giggled, hitting his shoulder in a playful, friendly swipe. "When will I meet her? Come on now, you can't hide her forever. Or are you afraid she'll like me better?"

She laughed, and Alastor forced a toothy grin. His long time friend was the only one he talked about you with, and he knew she was intrigued whenever she could smell a blooming dalliance, especially with a notoriously abstinent bachelor like himself. Normally, he would laugh at that thought with a healthy dose of mockery, but he found himself to be less and less aversed at the thought - if it would be you. Impossible, of course.

"Nonsense, Rosie dear, nonsense,", he chuckled, taking a large sip from his coffee cup, a heavy hand bringing up a plate stacked with finger sandwiches. "And I'm afraid you won't meet her for a long time, maybe never. Humans seldom traverse to hell in their lifetime, and who knows if the little darling will take on the trip downstairs?"

Rosie coughed in her tea, her blackened eyes wide in shock. "Human? It's a human girl you've been courting here? Oh, Alastor, you old fool."

Alastor scrunched his nose, "Talking, Rosie, talking is all we do. And yes, she's a human. I don't see the quandary in that. It's just a little fun."

"Well,", she huffed with a small, thoughtful frown. "I would've hoped for a little more sense in you." The tall demonesse set down her teacup with nimble fingers.

"You may not call it courting, but if it quacks like a duck, it's a duck, love." Rosie ignored the indignant look Alastor gave her. "You know as well as I do that such a connection is dangerous to entertain. Humans are fragile and fragile things tend to break. And when they do, the owner mostly follows. You need to break this connection off."

Rosie gave him a sad look as his ears flattened against his head. She would've been more than happy for her oldest and dearest friend to have a partner on his side, someone good and honest who really cared about him, maybe loved him even, as unlovable as he was. But she had to protect him from the silly idea of possibly falling for a living, breathing and supposedly untarnished soul, and the heartbreak that would surely follow. "Don't make the mistake of breaking your heart, dear friend." she smiled, a tint of melancholy hidden in the red of her lips.

"I think it's far too late for that."

She offered a handkerchief, but Alastor waved her off, his smile more faint and close to a frown than she's ever seen.

***

The first day where nothing but static noise came out of the radio, you were irritated but just thought: 'Maybe Alastor has something to do'.

The second day of static you grew concerned. 'What if something happened to Alastor? Was he okay?'.

On the third day, you were panicked. 'Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you anymore! Maybe he met someone in hell, someone that he could talk to whenever he wanted and not through an old, dusty radio?'.

"Please talk to me.", you whispered into the empty room. Your knees were pulled to your chest, and you sat on your couch, eyes fixed on the radio in the bookcase. Your eyes stung with the tears threatening to spill. "Please, Al. I miss you." You shook your head, chuckling sadly. It had only been 3 days, but they'd felt like an eternity. The world had seemed silent without Alastor's constant chatter.

When night fell for the fourth day, you were half asleep, eyes red and burning and tears still staining your cheeks. You talked for hours into the void of your house, the radio now moved to sit in front of you on the coffee table, growing more and more desperate as hours passed. Talking faded into pleading, and pleading into begging.

"Please, I'm sorry, if I did something wrong, I'm sorry...", you mumbled into the wooden furnishing, resting your cheek against the top of the machine, eyes slipping shut with fatigue and defeat. A dry sob slipped past your trembling lips, as your hands desperately grabbed the sides of the antique device.

"Alastor please, don't leave me alone here...", you whispered with the last of your strength, before your body succumbed to your exhaustion, your unconscious mind welcomed the darkness.

If you had stayed awake for just a moment more, you would've, maybe, heard the faint shuddering breath beyond the static rumble. But you didn't. So you had no chance at knowing that, Alastor, listening to every word, saw and heard you at your weakest, and all it did to him was stir the embers and give the blaze an opening for the flames of his anger at fate to rage.

Work had called, again. Susan of all people. Threats were made - either come back to work, or don't come back at all. You smashed your phone. It was useless anyway. What was the point without...

Alastor wasn't here, hadn't answered for seven days now. And you had spent the whole time talking, begging him to show himself, just show himself and tell you what you did wrong, just talk to you one last time and then you'd stop, if that was what he wanted. You became obsessed with the orange light of the illuminated screen, imagining the flickers were maybe signs from him.

You stopped eating, stopped drinking, stopped almost anything, you just sat, in front of the radio, unmoving and unwilling to miss the smallest sign of his return.

Every single minute stretched into agony, and every breath that left your lips made a fresh tear roll down your paling cheeks, until your body couldn't produce them anymore. Then, you cried wordless whimpers and moans, even started praying to an unknown entity.

It wasn't as if Alastor owed you anything. It's not as though you thought the two of you were anything other than two kindred souls, one human, one demon, talking to each other. As a result, it wasn't like you had the right to anything from him.

It was strange to consider the connection the two of you shared: Something more than acquaintances, something closer than friends, and yet never fully crossing the line beyond it. The unpenetrable boundary dividing life and death in between.

Your eyes fell on a large, old crucifix on your wall, staring back at you with pity.

For the first time in days, you left the sofa, took it from the wall and burned it on your gas stove, watching the face of the nailed figurine slowly melt in the fire.

***

It had been eight days of excruciating, one-sided silence.

Eight days Alastor cursed his cowardice as he sat, red eyed with claws digging into his scalp, as he listened to you plead for him to talk - To answer. To do anything. Anything, but leave you alone, he heard, as if the words were spoken right in his ear.

Eight days of watching you slowly detriment from the eyes of the shadows he was able to manifest above, tugging on the very fabric of the world to move you, to keep your mind from going where it shouldn't go.

He kept telling himself it was for the better. His shadows murmured persistent reminders that he should find entertainment in your growing lunacy. He was the radio demon, after all. He shouldn't care if this wisp of a human were to perish, should laugh at your wails of agony and despair.

But Alastor never felt less like laughing. Your dried sobs and pained apologies for things you never did wrong in the first place filled his head, taunting and gnawing on him with feelings he thought he was unable to feel: Guilt and Regret.

It was as Rosie had predicted - he was becoming weak. But weakness was something that should be avoided. Had to be. He knew. Being weak, being feeble, would make him vulnerable, make him into the prey his cruel from already portrayed to the world he had to inherit. He couldn't allow it. Couldn't let his feelings for you bring him down to the levels of the sinners in hell he would tear apart and laugh while he did it.

That's why he stayed silent. Endured it, all of it, every word, cry and plea. Stayed invisible and silent, waiting for you to move on, forget him, shut off and leave the radio, never to turn the dial again. For your sake and his.

When the connection broke, on that eight day, Alastor could feel your resignation, your peace with which your pale hands gripped the electrical cord at it's base to pull. And he was suddenly filled with the awareness of something horrible, like a premonition. It set his already battered, aching heart in an ice cold grasp of dread.

His room exploded in green light as he expanded into his full demonic form, his limbs threatening to pull and burst at the stitches and his smile splitting his face almost entirely in half. He had to reach out, had to reform the connection to the radio one last time, even though nearly impossible.

You were about to do something he would never be able to forgive himself for.

***

Your car broke down just where it needed to. You took the radio out of the trunk, knocking the hood two times for a goodbye, the key safely in the ignition. Maybe some other poor soul would find and repair it, make happier memories with it.

You clutched the wooden device closer and started to walk. Indigo blue faded into black as you looked up to the sky that was sprinkled with glowing, shimmering silver dust, stars blinking in the unimaginable distance. There, but out of reach.

Just like him.

Your dry sob stung in your throat, but you didn't really feel the pain. Your eyes were fixed on the path to your final destination, right in front of you.

The Crescent City Connection Bridge was mostly abandoned by traffic at this time of night and provided just enough covered spaces to hide you from some foolish saviors eyes.

You didn't need to be saved.

You didn't want to be saved.

Because you were about to save yourself.

There was nothing waiting for you in the other direction than the one you were going. So, with slow but steady steps, you walked towards the middle of the bridge, settling on a place next to a metal pillar and looked over the railing onto the shimmering waters of the Mississippi River.

Alastor had told you about the river, how he loved to watch the steam boats floating on it from the radio station where he worked at when he was alive. The station was long gone, you didn't even find out where it had been in the first place, but you liked to imagine that you were looking at the same scenery now that he had been looking at when he peered out of his booth in his radio tower.

It made you smile through the tears... You were glad the end was somehow connected to him, even if it was most likely just your naive imagination.

It felt like the device in your arms was emitting static energy, prickling over your arms, hands and fingers as you caressed the mahogany wood gently, feeling as though the radio was shaking in your hands, trying to pull you back from the fenced ledge.

A quiet sob escaped your lips, turning into a giggle and into hysterical laughter. You sat down between the railing, and hugged the radio close, trying to breathe as you closed your eyes, resting your temple on the worn, warm wood.

"It'll be okay, Al.", you said quietly, your voice unnaturally hoarse and rough from lack of use and dehydration. "I'm coming. I'm coming to you.”

With one arm around the radio, holding it tight against your chest, you turned to stand on shaky legs, gripping the railing with one arm and, with one final glance at the stars above you you smiled. You heard sirens in the distance, and some people shouting from a sparkling streamliner passing under the bridge. Time was running short, so you didn't wait to put first one foot over the fence, then the other, taking a deep breath.

"I guess doves were always meant to fly."

And, with that, your body twisted, turned and leaped, falling as the light on the radio, firmly pressed against your heart, began to glow in deepest crimson and swirls of green.

Falling like an angel would descend from grace.

Part 2 for closure

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #angst #trigger warnings #minors d #minors don't look #minors dont touch #yes I'm crying #you're crying too #we all cry here #no judgement #quickf #quickfic

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saigethearies · 6 months

Text

saige’s terrortober presents…

fantasy

you think the handsome man you always see at the bakery has zero interest in you, but you couldn’t be further from the truth.

stalker!nanami kento x fem!reader

warnings/contents: stalking, sexual fantasies, voyeurism, mutual masturbation except reader doesn’t know it’s mutual, non-con photo taking, implied noncon somnophilia at the end

wc: 1k

18+ MINORS DNI

it seemed as if an unease had made itself at home within your gut the past several months.

you didn’t know for what or for why, but what you did know is that the hairs on the back of your neck were standing up at random times, your heart would beat faster out of nowhere, and you constantly felt the need to check behind you whenever you went, well, anywhere.

it was almost as if you felt that you were constantly being watched.

but that was preposterous. you were an average young woman living an average life. there would be no reason for anyone to take a special interest in you.

chalking it up to just being the effects of a stressful new job, you went on with your days, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your head.

lost in thought one day, you bumped into a blonde man outside of your favorite bakery. you faintly recognized him as another regular, mumbling a quick, “oh, i’m so sorry!”

he was a rather handsome man with chiseled features, his bored eyes regarding you for only a second before looking forwards again. “don’t worry about it.”

he was then back on his way, and you figured this stranger couldn’t care less about you.

in reality, he was wondering if the underwear you had on underneath your little dress was the same set he got a picture of you in through your bedroom window last week.

kento nanami had his heart stolen when he saw you come to the bakery for the first time several months prior. he didn’t think he’d ever seen someone so beautiful, and you’d been on his mind all hours of the day ever since.

he often found himself wondering what you’d look like taking his dick while he stood outside your work. imagined grabbing you by your ponytail and fucking your face while he watched you from across the gym. fantasized about how your ass would feel beneath his palm as he followed you down the sidewalk at night.

he’d done so much longing and lusting for so long, it was about time for his desires to come to fruition.

it had been a horrible day at work, so tiring that you forgot to lock your door behind you. it made it so easy for him to slip in unnoticed.

as soon as your back hit your mattress, you were tugging your bottoms off and pulling your shirt up to your chin. the cool air felt amazing on your breasts and cunt, a sigh leaving your lips.

nanami thought it sounded heavenly, but it still didn’t hold a candle to the sight of you practically nude before him.

his breath hitched as he watched from the crack in your closet door, thanking the darkness of the tight space for keeping him hidden. this is a show he’s been dreaming of for months, ever since you first crossed paths at that bakery.

you brought a hand down to tease your folds, index finger running between the seam of them a few times before dipping down and rubbing along your clit. you mewled at the sensation, quickening the motion of your finger as you middle started to circle around the entrance of your pussy.

nanami’s eyes were wide as he watched your ministrations, transfixed at the way you touched yourself. his pants were suddenly feeling so much tighter, so he decided it was time to unzip him. thankfully the noises you were making muffled the sound of him undoing his belt.

he grasped his cock, starting to stroke himself as you finally slid your middle finger into your waiting walls. the broken moan that bubbled up from your throat made him feel even harder.

inserting your ring finger in as well, you started to pump the two of them in and out of your went cunt, squelching noises joining your mewls in filling the room with lewd sounds. it was music to nanami’s ears, truly.

you picked up the pace of your fingers, pumping them faster as you applied more pressure to your sensitive nub. your hips started to lift slightly as you gyrated against your own hand.

the visual sent nanami into a frenzy, flicking his wrist faster as he pleasured himself to the sight of you. you were an absolute dream, the fantasies in his head didn’t come close to doing the real deal justice.

his eyes followed the movement of your other hand as it drifted up towards your chest, taking one of your nipples between your finger and rolling it. the combined stimulus of your breast being fondled and your pussy being played with had your moans intensifying in volume.

your legs started to tremble, and nanami knew you were close. he pumped his own fist faster, trying to bring himself to the brink of an orgasm along with you.

“let’s cum together, love,” he whispered to himself. “you and me.”

it was as if you could hear him, the wave of ecstasy crashing over you as you began to convulse around your own fingers. nanami had to bite his tongue to keep from groaning too loud, shooting his load into his hand as he watched you lose yourself to pleasure.

as you came down from your high, the blonde saw your eyelids begin to droop. you lazily pulled your shirt back down over you before burrowing under your covers. you were out like a light not even a few moments later.

the door to your closet creaked open as nanami stepped out, softly making his way towards your slumbering form. he came to a halt besides your bed, leaning over to take in your sweet features- soft lashes, precious nose, cute cheeks. you were absolutely gorgeous, even more so now that he had you right here before him.

lowering himself so that his face was hovering over yours, nanami brushed a piece of hair away from your face, cock already becoming stiff again.

“don’t worry, love. it’s my turn to make you feel good.”

_____

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#saige’s terrortober #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami x you #nanami kento x you #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader

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miupow · 5 days

Text

「 ♫ 」 ── 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 .

you hated minho with everything you had, but you just couldn't stop yourself from coming back for more again and again... he was just so sexy when he was jealous, and no one else made you feel the way he did.

PAIRING ── lee know x fem!reader

RATING ── NSFW, MDNI !

WARNINGS ── college au, fwb!minho, frat boy!skz, toxic and possessive behavior, jealousy, he’s very mean in this im ngl, oral (m. rec), face-fucking, dirty talk, mean dom!lino, degredation kink and name-calling, humiliation kink, slut-shaming, facials, non-consentual photo-taking, i really mean it guys lino is not a good guy

WORDS ── 1.8k

A/N ── an old deleted work i've rewritten for toxic sneaky link minho hehe >< hope you enjoy!! comments and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you ♡

taglist: @mapofthemazeinthemirror , @linocz , @skzooluvr

Minho's white-knuckle grip on your wrist was bruising, his blunt nails threatening to leave little stinging crescents dug into your skin-- you bit your lip to mask your giddy, triumphant smile as he tugged you into the spare bathroom, dragged you through the pulsating crowd as you tripped over your strappy heels. He only let go of you to slam the door shut and lock it swiftly behind him, his wild, firey eyes and grit-tooth scowl melting away to the bored and emotionless glare you were all to familiar with. It pierced through your vodka-soaked confidence in an instant, sent you reeling and scrambling for words to say as a dull throbbing took ahold at the base of your wrist, just over your pulse point. The flourescent lights of the bathroom made your eyes sting, too adjusted to the dark of the party outside-- it just made you struggle even more to look Minho in the eye. He always made you feel so small, towering over you and looking down at you as if you were nothing at all... and you hated it more than anything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" you spat, rubbing your wrist, fighting to keep your strength as you leveled with his gaze. It wasn't like you to hold your ground like this-- you can tell it throws Minho off, pisses him off even further as he bullies his way into your personal space. The music that had been nearly deafening just moments before had been muffled into obscurity, stripped away to a booming bassline that nearly shook the floor; it reverberated through your body still, a thrumming under your skin that left you restless, nervous. Minho could read it all over your face.

“Excuse me?! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed back venomously, taller frame advancing on you quickly. His arms come to brace themselves on either side of you, effectively trapping you against the sink-- he crowds your vision, his warm breath fanning across your face, and you try desperately to look anywhere except into his deep dark eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—" you began, as sturdy as you could, but Minho's rough, humorless laugh cuts you off. His hands grip either side of the sink with force, and you can see the veins in his forearms ripple under the fabric of his rolled-up jacket sleeves.

“Don’t fucking lie to me.” there was something all too familiar about this, Minho’s voice poisoning and dripping with something that makes your thighs shake and rub together— those long fingers you came to hate and adore grabbed ahold of your chin, squeezing your plush cheeks together as he forced your eyes to meet his. a broken, barely-there whimper sneaks it’s way past your pursed lips. “Are you trying to piss me off? Is that it? Whoring around with other guys right in fucking front of me?!”

“We were just talking—“

Minho sneers. “Sure you were, rubbing up all over him and talking all sweet while dressed like a fuckin’ slut.”

He spits the words out like it was a nasty secret, jolting through you with a sickening shock— your cheeks flush hot between Minho’s cold fingers, your panties growing damp embarrassingly quickly, molded to your wet pussy folds… you loved it when Minho was jealous, loved how to see just how nasty you would make him when you hit him where it hurt.

And maybe you loved it because it proved to you, in some sick, backwards way, that Minho even cared about you at all.

“I’m not dressed like a whore,” you retort weakly, sounding far more petulant and pathetic than you meant to.

“Are you kidding me? Fucking look at you, shit. So damn beautiful. I can’t stand it.”

Minho let go of your face and backed away to take in your skin-tight dress, picked with care for the stupid frat party he had pulled you away from, the one that you didn't even want to go to— your hands twitched with the urge to cross your arms, hide and protect yourself in some way from Minho's piercing stare. Your little red dress barely covers the tops of your thighs, thin gold necklace sitting pretty just above the cleavage of your plush tits, spilling out over a push-up bra. Your outfit is complete with deep crimson lipstick painted on your quivering lips— Minho stared at them, wild and hungry, and it takes everything you have not to moan aloud.

"Slutty girl," Minho hummed, hand sliding up to caress at your exposed thigh. “So desperate for my attention… Gotta go whore yourself out so you can get put back in your fucking place? Remind you who you belong to?"

"I don't belong to you." You snapped. "We're not together, Minho-- you don't get to act like this when I see you with a different girl every week."

Minho just laughed, mean and ugly and right in your face, grabbing a rough handful of your thigh and squeezing. "Oh yeah?" he goads, the smirk on his lips doing little to hide the rage in his eyes. "You’re the one who keeps coming back for more, baby— just can’t live without this cock, huh? Constantly telling me it's over then crawling back into my bed. you’re not my girl but that pussy’s mine.”

"Fuck you," you spat, tears in your eyes.

Minho grinned venomously, opening up a pit in your stomach; his thumb ghosted across your skin, inched it's way underneath your dress, leaving a line of fire in it's wake. "Yeah, I know you want to."

You whimpered, torn halfway between pushing him off of you and begging for his touch-- the latter wins, despite all of your anger, your conflicted feelings. It always does. "please, Min--" you plead, desperate and wobbly, unsure of what you're even begging for.

"Get on your knees."

And like the slut you are, your knees hit the cold tile floor without any protest.

You were met immediately with the sight of Minho’s hard on, the outline of his thick cock straining the fly of his jeans. "'Atta girl,” Minho hummed, his voice low, one hand coming to cup your head and the other reaching to fumble with his belt. He looks his prettiest like this, you think, towering above you. Commanding attention and respect, no matter how lowly he treated you. He tugged his belt open, leaves it dangling from his belt loops, quick and rough in unzipping his fly; your mouth watered, eyes wide and hazy as you watch him pull his stiff cock out of his boxers, his shaft slapping obscenely against his belly. “Gonna fuck your face, gonna ruin that pretty throat— open wide, baby.”

His cock was flushed pretty pink and leaking precum, flared tip shiny and throbbing, begging for your tongue— you wasted no time to trail chaste kitten licks over the dripping slit, relish in the way Minho’s breath hitches from the feeling, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes in rapture, lose yourself in the salty, bitter taste of his shaft… and Minho grunted low in his throat, tightened around a fistful of your hair and pulled you back off his dick harshly, shaking you out of your reverie and knocking you nearly on your ass in surprise.

“Said I was gonna fuck your throat, stupid bitch. Open your fucking mouth and stop teasing.”

Rougher than usual, he pushed you back to take his cock into your mouth, shoved you all the way down to his twitching balls. You gagged violently, tears collecting in your lash lines. “There we go,” Minho hissed, the hand in your hair rubbing soothingly over your burning scalp. “Take it like a good girl.”

He began to thrust into your throat in true earnest, uncaring for your comfort, heavy balls slapping against your chin in a dizzying rhythm— your whines and whimpers were muffled by his cock, nasty wet noises filling the bathroom as your boyfriend uses you like a toy; the perfect backing vocals for the slow song playing outside. “Shit!” Minho whined, his hips stuttering, your nose bumping up against his pelvis— your lips left smeared red marks along his shaft and the base of his dick, and some sick satisfaction bubbles up inside of you, makes you smile around the cock fucking your throat open; while Minho ruins your makeup, leaves you gasping, drooling and choking, you’re marking him up too. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl--!"

Your pussy throbbed, empty and aching, and it registered somewhere in the back of your mind that you were crying, hot tears and ruined mascara streaming down your flushed cheeks as Minho fucked your face. "I'm-- shit, I'm gonna cum! Gonna take it, yeah? Gonna make everyone know you're mine, all mine-- fuck, 'm cumming--!"

Your eyes rolled back in delight, pretty painted mouth opening impossibly wider in preparation to take his load, but it never came— to your shock and awe, Minho pulled you off of his cock with a sickening pop, just seconds before rope after rope of hot, thick semen shoots all over your face. On your nose, cheeks, chin, some droplets falling on the flat of your tongue— you moaned at the taste despite the abject horror settling in your chest. And you watch, wide eyed and too dazed and dizzy to fight back, as Minho pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you. He smirked down at his phone screen before turning it around for you to see.

You were a mess. Your hair was disheveled, tangled everywhere from Minho’s hands. Your makeup was ruined, all over your face in tear-stained streaks... your face was pink and blotchy, shiny with splatterings of Minho’s cum, and your lipstick was smeared across your cheek, nearly to your ear. You gasped, frozen in place, unable to react any other way... Minho's smirk broke into a laugh, hollow and evil and eating you alive.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Minho snickered, sliding his phone back in his back pocket. "Might just have to show you off-- such a pretty picture deserves to be shared, don't you think?"

He’s quick to tuck his soft— still lipstick stained— cock back into his jeans and buckle back up his belt, fix his hair in the mirror. He looks a little sweaty but otherwise well-kept, and you wish now that you had kissed him more, marked up his face and neck with lipstick too and not just his dick, when you had the chance. "Clean yourself up, won’t you? You look like a mess.”

And with that, Minho unlocked the door and stepped out of the bathroom, shutting it behind him with a dull click.

#skz x reader #skz smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #lee know x reader #lee know smut #minho x reader

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ghosttotheparty · 1 year

Text

eddie knows that steve’s house isn’t a home. that he doesn't really actually feel comfortable there, or safe. it makes eddie sad every time he's over, along with the lack of photos and art and personality that could make it a home. he still stays over fairly often, sleeps in steve's bed, makes coffee and breakfast in the kitchen, lounges on the sofa.

steve’s parents come back without warning one day and find eddie and steve kissing in the kitchen.

nothing scandalous or inappropriate or anything like that. they’re both smiling, leaning over their coffee cups to peck each other's lips, (and eddie thinks the harringtons have the worst timing in all of human existence, because this is the first time they’ve kissed today), but catherine claps her hand over her mouth like they walked in on them fucking on the dining table. steve barely reacts when they walk in. he just sips his coffee slowly.

walter tells him to leave. his voice is quiet and lethally calm, and steve does as he says. eddie follows.

steve moves in with eddie that day, into the apartment the government gave them after the trailer was destroyed. it’s small, only slightly bigger than the trailer was, with two bedrooms. steve stays overnight enough that he practically already lives there, but now eddie makes space in his drawers for steve’s clothes. it doesn’t take long for their clothes to combine.

steve is quiet for a while after moving in. he doesn’t say much, doesn’t really look into eddie’s or wayne’s eyes.

wayne comes close and hugs him when he starts to cry, murmuring that he’s home now, that everything was gonna be okay. steve falls asleep in his arms when he finally stops crying.

steve doesn’t say it, but eddie knows he feels like a burden. one more stomach to feed, one more load of laundry. even with the hush money, times are tough. especially when no one will hire eddie.

so eddie reminds him as often as he can that he’s home. that nothing he and wayne do for him are favours, or just them being nice. that they love him and want him safe and cared for. he wakes him up by pressing kisses across his face, and he watches sports games with him (and asks questions so he can actually follow along), and he remembers how he takes his coffee, and he tells him every chance he can that he loves him. even silently, squeezing his hand under tables in public.

he knows steve doesn’t really believe him. or at least, that it’s hard for steve to believe him. it wouldn’t be easy, not when his own parents never said the words, when they told him without a second thought to leave the house he grew up in. he knows that steve doesn’t quite feel at home in the apartment, that he feels like he doesn’t belong there.

even though eddie and wayne do everything they can to make him feel safe, to make him feel at home. wayne comes home one day with printed photographs that he got after talking to joyce. photos of steve with his friends, with eddie and robin and nancy and jonathan, with the kids. photos jonathan took of them during campaigns, during movie nights and parties at the harrington house. the photos go up on the walls in eddie and steve’s room.

(except one. it’s a photo of eddie and steve on the sofa in the wheeler basement, steve laying on eddie’s chest, looking up into his eyes, playing with the guitar pick on his chest, and eddie is smiling softly at him, his arm around his neck, his fingers in his hair. eddie doesn’t even remember what they were talking about, just that he felt warm and cosy and safe. the photo is on the fridge. it’s wayne’s favourite.)

it takes a while for steve to get comfortable at the apartment.

eddie gets to watch it happen. at first, steve sits stiffly on the sofa unless he’s with eddie. (he likes to lean into him.) but after a while he starts to pull his legs up onto the sofa as he watches games with wayne or movies with eddie, sitting cross-legged or pulling his knees to his chest. for a while he needs eddie’s help remembering where the dishes go in the kitchen, which cups go in which cabinet, which order wayne’s mugs go in on the shelves. but he eventually stops asking.

one day eddie comes home from band practice to find steve doing the dishes. he’s wearing one of wayne’s flannels.

he wears eddie’s clothes often enough. usually his t-shirts and sweaters when they haven’t done the laundry, but he’s never worn anything of wayne’s.

‘hey, baby.’

eddie is stuck in the doorway, the strap of his bag still between his fingers, and steve turns to look over his shoulder at him.

‘eds?’

‘hi,’ eddie says weakly, looking at him. the flannel is rolled up to his elbows, and when steve turns to look at him in concern, eddie sees that the flannel is hanging open to reveal one of eddie’s motörhead shirts.

‘hey,’ steve says, quickly shutting off the water and drying his hands before he comes over, holding eddie’s face as eddie’s eyes fill with tears. ‘did something happen? what’s wrong?’

‘no,’ eddie chokes, blinking tears out of his eyes and dropping his bag to the floor. steve wipes the tears away tenderly, kissing his lips softly. ‘i’m fine, stevie.’

‘why are you crying?’

‘’m just…’ he takes a sharp breath, reaching up to hold steve’s waist, pushing under the flannel and holding him tightly. ‘kinda like… overwhelmed? with how much i love you? and how— how happy i am?’

steve’s face softens.

‘baby,’ he breathes. eddie’s lip quivers. he slides his hands to grip the lapels of the flannel before he reaches to trace the scars around his neck. ‘i love you too.’

eddie pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly as he waits for his tears to stop. steve waits with him, playing with the ends of his curls, running a hand up and down his back. eddie is sniffling when he finally stops crying, and steve holds his face in his hands, wiping his cheeks and kissing him softly, over and over, until eddie is giggling, smelling the dish soap on his hands.

but eddie just starts crying again when steve says casually and easily and lightly, ‘do you know what time wayne is coming home?’

#home ✨#having emotions #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie oneshot #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet

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wol-fica · 1 year

Text

-𝕌𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕-

pairings - wednesday x gn!reader

summary - Wednesday comes to you for advice and guidance with her stalker problem, and finally confesses

warnings - kissing, slight make out, fluff, kinda investigation, wednesday is so hot omg

————

It was a peaceful night at Nevermore Academy, not a sound could be heard, except for up in Apollo Hall. The soft ‘swoosh’ of a broom across wooden floors filled the large space as I did the weekly clean of my dorm.

I lived alone, well technically not, as I did have a roommate, but they never stayed here or even bothered to show up at the beginning of the semester, so I assumed that the dorm was mine for the taking. Maximus, my dorm parent, had said that he didn’t mind me having it to myself, but I needed to uphold the promise of keeping it in order just in case a new student comes along.

So here I was, ridding the space of all dust and grime. The faint sound of laughter flowed through my open window, probably coming from down in the quad. There was a late night party for the students who participated in the repair of the school, which was basically everyone. I was invited, but I’d rather be alone with my books than get drunk with the crowd. Everyone was down to do drugs and chug alcohol, which is why I was incredibly surprised to hear a swift knock at my door.

“Coming!” I called, placing the broom back into my supply closet before heading to the door. I opened it, only to be met with someone I would never expect to be at my doorstep.

Wednesday Addams, gloomy and attractive as always.

See, Wednesday and I have only interacted twice, so I was confused why she would be here at my door. The first time we met was at Eugene’s shed; I had gone there to get a jar of honey for my baking escapades, and Wednesday was there looming over a book of some sort. I had said hello, but all I received was a look and a nod.

The second time was with Enid; I was in their dorm helping her decorate a large poster board for her project on giant hawks when Wednesday arrived back from Hummers club. We made eye contact for a solid two-and-a-half seconds before she greeted Enid and went straight to her typewriter.

So for her to be standing in my doorway, arms full of papers and a black display board while her face looked bland as ever, was quite a shock to me.

“Wednesday, Hi.” I said, probably looking like an idiot.

Her eyes scanned my face before trailing down to the black apron I wore for cleaning. Instantly, my skin went red from embarrassment, and I scrambled to take it off.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of sweeping when you knocked.”

“That is fine, having a neat room shows me that you are at least cleaner than most.” Wednesday said, her voice a bit less monotonous than usual. “Can I enter?”

“I…of course!” I stammered, stepping aside so she could walk in.

I shut the door behind her, locked it, and turned to see her inspecting my walls. She moved around the room quite fast, her hand tracing along the ancient wood. Once she seemed satisfied, she placed her things on my bed and got to work setting up her display board.

“Uh, can I help with anything…?” I asked, sliding closer to see what she had.

She shook her head no and grabbed her papers to pin them up on the black panel, which is where I realized they were in fact photos of her. All of them were inconsistent, some with her by herself, others while she was with Enid or Xavier.

“Wednesday what-”

She slapped her hand to my mouth, glaring her dark eyes at me. “Be patient, you will see what I'm getting at.”

I obliged, keeping my eyes on Wednesday as she finished pinning the last of her photos. Once she was satisfied, she clasped my hand and pulled me back to see the full product. Red string trailed from each photo to a paper, which led to the center, a dark blurry figure.

We stared at it for a moment, basking in the silence. In our pause, I registered her hand in mine. Her skin was cold, but not in a repulsive way, it was more refreshing than uncomfortable. I was surprised, especially when her thumb gently traced the back of my hand.

“So, what am I looking at?” I asked, breaking the silence.

She went forward to inspect her work more closely, her hand sliding out of mine in the process. An empty feeling filled the air but I ignored it out of respect.

“Wednesday?” I asked again, coming up next to her.

“It seems that I have acquired a stalker.” She murmured, scratching her chin.

“I see that, but why did you come here?”

“Because I needed a consult.”

“What’s wrong with Enid? Xavier?”

Wednesday’s dark eyes snapped to mine, a glare clouding her face. She stared at me for a good few seconds before looking back at her board.

“Because of that picture.” She stated, pointing at one of her laying on her colorless bed, “I care for Enid and Xavier greatly, but this makes me paranoid.”

I nod, understanding her view, “How would they get a picture of you in your room?”

“A good question, but I'm not sure about the answer.”

“I see.”

Silence, again; Wednesday really likes to analyze, so I used this time to admire her.

One thing about her that I always found interesting about her was her face. While most people would say she is bland and psychotic, I fully disagree. She has always had this effect on me that I couldn’t quite pinpoint until now.

When we would pass in the hallway, I would get giddy and nervous, but as soon as she was gone those feelings diminished. We sit with each other in Creepy Creatures class, and I always get so scared to mess up on a test or choose dumb answers for homework in fear of repulsing her.

“Y/N.”

Wednesday’s voice snapped me out of my daydreaming, causing me to look down to her. Her dark, well-trained eyes searched my Y/E/C ones with curiosity.

“What were you doing?” She asked, peering up at me.

“Nothing! Just thinking about stuff.”

She hummed slowly, still staring at me. “Stuff.”

I nodded sheepishly and smiled, giving a tense shrug.

“Anyways, I had asked if you had any theories on who my despicable stalker could be.”

I thought for a moment, multiple possibilities filling my brain.

“Old family member?” I suggested.

Wednesday studied my face as she seemed to ponder about what I said. “Elaborate.”

I cleared my throat. “Distant relative. Has an issue with your family or you yourself. They want to scare you by taking stalkerish photos of you?”

“No, too easy.”

“How about a current student? Someone who is jealous of you and is trying to distract you from things about to happen?”

She pursed her lip at that one. “Maybe”

“Ooh! Or an old foe!” I said, now being very interested in the issue. “Someone you crossed and maybe have beaten in the past, they are back to scare you!”

I turned to see her slightly grinning at me, her eyes watching my every move. My face heated up and I giggled, scratching the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I love mysteries.”

Wednesday shook her head slightly, giving me an ever so small smirk. “That’s okay, investigating is cute on you.”

“Really?” I said, a blush covering my cheeks.

“Yes, it's terribly annoying.”

“Sorry.”

She scoffed, shaking her head; her eyes met mine with a fiery glaze. She was studying me again, taking in my features so they would have an imprint in her brain. I learned that Wednesday would do that so she could remember who she saw in a day in case of an unfortunate event happening.

“You are incredibly naive.” Wednesday said, tracing her fingers across a photo of her and I in botany class.

I cocked my head to the side in confusion. What did that mean? Was I supposed to pick up on something? Did she ask me another question?

“What do you mean?” I asked with caution.

Her shoulders dropped as her head drooped sadly. Cringing a slight bit, I backed away in fear that I said something wrong.

“I keep throwing signals in your direction but you are to blind to see my attempts; unless I’m just bad at flirting.”

I looked stupid, very stupid. My mouth was hanging open while my eyes squinted in thought.

“You…have a thing for me? Like a crush?”

“Yes, I have gained an attraction to you.” She said, watching for my reaction.

“Oh.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“What? No.”

“Then angry.”

“Wednesday, wait.” I said, shushing her before she started assuming the worst.

She stared, her eyes never leaving mine. Our gaze seemed to create a thin spark between us as we had a silent conversation through facial expressions. My thoughts took a pause when I saw her dark orbs flicker down to my lips, her own parting slightly.

“Can…can I kiss you Y/N?” Wednesday asked tentatively whilst rocking on her feet.

I smiled, reaching out to grab her hands.

“Call me Y/N/N.”

And with that, our lips met in a fiery blaze. Her’s were soft and delicate, yet surprisingly delicious. She tasted sweet like lemonade but with a hint of mint. My hands traveled down to her waist, pulling her closer to me so I could kiss her more properly.

We broke for air, but she dove right back in with a ferocious demeanor. I felt the prodding of her tongue begging for access into my mouth, which I happily accepted. As soon as she got clearance, she set to work exploring every crevice with curiosity. The way her tongue would slide against mine created a bubbly feeling in my stomach, which only grew when she decided to cup my face.

I pulled back, a string of spit dangled between us. Giggling, I wiped it away and planted a soft peck to her cheek.

“Now I can brag that I made out with Wednesday Addams.” I snickered, burying my nose into her neck.

Suddenly, a sharp jab of a fist collided with my stomach, causing me to clutch it in discomfort.

“Tell anyone and I will rip you off at your mid-section.” She stated before pulling me into her for a tight hug.

——————

i do not give permission for anyone to repost on any platform

#wednesday #adams family #wedneday addams #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x r #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams x reader

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garoujo · 2 years

Text

YOU SEND THEM A NUDE WHILE THEY’RE AT WORK — TOKYO REVENGERS

feat : sano manjiro, ryuguji ken, hanma shuji, haitani rindou + ( akashi ) sanzu haruchiyo

♱ warnings — f!reader, gang themes ( except in draken’s ), you text sanzu while he’s dealing with some traitors sigh, you send them nudes, lingerie.

♱ note — jjk version. hello i’m back w another one of these for tokrev cause i just got rly inspired to write them suddenly :3 !!

・✶ ｡ﾟSANO MANJIRO / MIKEY

you knew he was an important person, but that didn’t mean you didn’t miss him — especially on the days where he was really busy with the gang, returning home when you were already asleep and leaving before you’d even woken up. but you know he’d come straight back as soon as you told him you missed him.

mikey was in his office when he received your first message, his drowsy gaze glancing over to his phone before he’s picking it up when he sees your contact name — paying no mind to whatever plan sanzu is currently spouting about beside him. to anybody else, mikey’s face would remain stoice, but only you would be able to pick up his tells — the way he tilts his head to the side, propping it up on his fist as he scans over your body, all dressed up and pretty in the lingerie he’d gotten you as an apology for being so absent, and shit—he missed you.

mikey <3 : more :)

whatever sanzu is complaining about is going right over mikey’s head at this point as his eyes become heavier, pure desire in his half lidded gaze when he receives another pretty picture a few seconds later. he can see the peek of your puffy clit between your folds and the needy twitch of his cock in his slacks has him swallowing heavy, jaw clenching before he leans back against his chair when he reads your i miss you.

“you can deal with it, sanzu. do whatever you want.” his command is gruff, almost strained when it’s hissed through his teeth and mikey feels suddenly too warm in the space of his office when he takes another long look at your photos, shameless as he drinks in the sight of his pretty girlfriend, and he knows the only place he wants to be right now is sinking into your little pussy, the one he’s been neglecting so terribly the past few days. so he rises from his chair before he’s pulling on his coat and turning to leave with a shallow exhale, trying to ignore the way his cock is throbbing with want.

mikey <3 : don’t touch it till i’m home, baby.

・✶ ｡ﾟRYUGUJI KEN / DRAKEN

it was so easy to miss draken when he was at the bike shop, leaving you with a quick kiss and a soft grin before he’s gone and you can’t help but want him. which is why it was so fun to tease him a little, knowing that behind that big, muscled exterior he would come back to you in a heartbeat.

draken was just finishing up his break in the bike shop when you had text him, he’d messaged you a few times already asking about your day and if you’d eaten — but when you’d not replied he’d only frowned about it for the past thirty minutes before your reply came in the form of a photo, one of you bent over in the mirror wearing a pretty little bra and panty set he’d bought for you. the way his jaw clenches is immediate as he feels his cock twitch awake, the frown on his face deepening at the sudden desire he feels twist in his abdomen because fuck he wants nothing more than to ruin your pretty little get up right now.

this hadn’t been the first time you’d pulled this shit, always trying to tease him every so often when he’s at work because you know he always makes sure to fuck you extra good when he gets home — thinking he’s teaching you how to behave when in reality he’s playing right into your plan. not that draken even cares when he sees the way your pretty pussy is already slick for him when you send another, thighs spread to reveal the glistening petals that lay between them and the groan the new angle pulls from your boyfriends chest is shameless, low and rugged as he wraps his fingers around his heavy cock through the fabric of his overalls.

ken <3 : fuck, princess. somebody’s needy, what have i told you ‘bout teasin’ me at work.

it’s almost carnal, the deep throb that draken feels along his cock — his balls twitching, yearning to be slapping off your ass with every heavy thrust as he bullies his thick cock into your pussy, wishing his grip was dragging you across the floor as he pushes himself deeper into the desperate hug of your walls, and he can basically already hear the way you’d whine about how it’s too much through pouty lips, because you know he fucking loves you like that. he’s breathing hard through clenched teeth when you reply with a cute little but ken, i miss you :( and he thinks you’re fucking adorable when you’re needy like this. draken curses under his breath with another deep throb of his cock against his palm and he lets his head fall back against the old couch in the back before he’s hissing out a fuck and typing out another message, already grabbing the keys for his bike.

ken <3 : gotta tell me what you need then, baby. i can fuckin’ leave right now.

・✶ ｡ﾟHANMA SHUJI

hanma had no shame when it came to his need for you, even if he’d fucked you before he left for work this morning — you know that he’d still lose his mind at the sight of you in your pretty panties, wrapped up in his shirt with your thighs spread so he can catch a glimpse of how empty your pussy looks without him.

hanma could feel his concentration slipping as sanzu droned on about whatever they were taking next at the meeting he was currently at in mikey’s office, his tattooed hand pulling his phone out of his slacks just as he receives a text from his pretty girlfriend who he’s sure was still wrapped up in bed missing him. but his lips immediately curl into a smirk that’s almost proud when he opens up the text to see you lying back against the bed, a pretty innocent expression that looks out of place on your features with how you’ve got your legs spread, showing him your glistening folds with a soft pout on your lips.

“fuck.” hanma grunts, completely seamless as he discreetly unbuttons an extra button at the top of his dress shirt and sinks himself deeper into the couch, legs spread in his slacks and he’s paying no mind to the way his heavy cock is twitching behind the restrictive fabric when his amber gaze flicks over your photo once more. he’s pretty sure sanzu tells him to quit panting like a fucking dog but he doesn’t hear it, his ears feel like they’re ringing at the sight of you, like he can still feel the way your pussy was twitching around him just this morning — pushing up his glasses before he’s running his hand down his face in exasperation.

shuji <3 : that all or are you tryna tease me, doll? i know you took more <3

he almost growls when he receives the next photo, your fingers trailing between your folds to give him a peek at your puffy clit and hanma chuckles lowly at the sight, clenching his jaw and trying to ignore the uncomfortable throb of his cock in his pants. you were such a tease, but you knew exactly how to rile him up at the most exhilarating of times and fuck—he loved it, smoothing a hand through the black and blonde hair hanging over his eyes before he’s typing out another quick reply and turning his attention back to the meeting with a sinister grin, one that’s dripping with want.

shuji <3 : already got me rock fuckin’ hard in my meeting, baby. gonna let me see more of that pretty pussy as an apology, yeah?

・✶ ｡ﾟHAITANI RINDOU

rindou was always someone who was enthusiastic about nudes, he encouraged them — even sent you a few of his own whenever he could just because he loved the thought of his pretty gf tryna get herself off to him. but he loved when you teased him; like a teaser of what’s waiting for him at home.

the meeting was already over when rindou had received your text, there was just a few members littered around the room — discussing plans and shipments while rindou sinks into the plush couch beneath him, waiting on ran coming back from his pickup with kakucho. but then you text him, in that pretty little set he’d bought you because he knew it would hug you just right and shit—it does, but it still lets him see your perky little nipples behind the sheer fabric, the panties already damp from where you’ve obviously been missing him, rubbing your clit in sticky circles and he can almost hear the way you’d pant his name.

it’s almost immediate the way he sinks deeper into the expensive leather, manspreading to give his cock a little more space to twitch against where it lies across his thigh — the bulge in his pants becoming more noticeable with every sweep of his lilac gaze along your figure. rindou’s lips curl into a smirk when he receives another photo a few seconds later, muttering under his breath about how much of a fucking tease you are before he’s pressing a palm into his crotch, trying to ease the throbbing ache in his cock, swirling with the desire to feel your pretty pussy creaming around him.

rin <3 : look at you, gorgeous … spread it for me.

you’re going to be the death of him, rindou thinks when you reply to his command with another photo — lewdly spreading your folds so he can see the peek of your puffy clit and the way your slick is smeared along your pussy and fingers, and the sight makes a groan punch at his chest before he’s covering it up behind a gruff cough and clenching his jaw. he feels dizzy, he can feel the pre-cum leaking into the fabric of his boxers and something warm bursts along his neck and shoulders when he takes off his suit jacket, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows before he’s texting ran to hurry the fuck up. just after he takes a photo of his heavy, prominent bulge straining behind his slacks to send back to you.

rin <3 : look what you did, princess. gotta me help out now, right?

・✶ ｡ﾟSANZU HARUCHIYO

teasing sanzu was always fun because you knew you had him wrapped around your pretty finger, the same crazed and unhinged second in command that others seen was actually someone who crumbled at the sight of you — so you decided to have a little fun with that, even though he warned you not to tease him at work.

“shut the fuck up.” sanzu hisses as he pulls his gun out of his waistband, aiming it at the three traitors he’s got on their knees, gagged infront of him in the warehouse — but just as it was about to get good, he feels his phone vibrate. the sharp glare he sends them meant as a warning when he clicks his tongue, pulling out his phone and the crazed look in his eyes melt at the sight of your contact name — a weakness he quickly covers up with an annoyed tch before he clicks on the notification, not that him melting for his pretty girlfriend will do them any good considering they won’t be leaving here at all.

but the way his eyes widen is almost immediate as he grits his teeth, scratching at his temple with the barrel of his gun as he tries to hide the way his lips are threatening to curl up at the sight of you. maybe he’s been spoiling you too much, sanzu thinks to himself as his eyes glance over the photo you’ve just sent him, but fuck — he knew you’d look pretty in that little lingerie set he’d bought you, fucking begging him to come home and rip it off. but the pink on his cheeks and the bulge in his slacks is doing nothing for how intimidating he’s trying to be right now.

haru <3 : watch it, angel. you know im working, wait till i’m home.

sanzu feels like his lungs quake with his next inhale, he can feel the uncomfortable throb of his cock against his expensive slacks — his need for you making his mind cloudy because now he’s not only mad, he’s hard and it’s all thanks to your bratty little teasing. but when he feels his phone vibrate against his palm again, he needs to bite back the groan that’s threatening to kick at his chest at the sight of you all doe-eyed and spread out for him. you’re teasing him with your addictive pussy knowing he wants nothing more than to feel it squeeze around him right now, especially when his next message is immediately followed up with another photo.

haru <3 : send me another fucking nude and i’m killing these bastards and coming home to fuck that pretty pussy into the mattress.

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev x reader #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyorev x reader #mikey x reader #mikey smut #draken x reader #draken smut #hanma x reader #hanma smut #sanzu x reader #sanzu smut #rindou x reader #rindou smut

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ediewentmissing · 10 months

Text

some of my eddie munson headcanons

1. loves liquorice.

i know a lot of you guys probably HATE liquorice, but something about him screams ‘i am a liquorice lover and proud of it!!’. and he doesn’t like the strawberry kind.

2. races to press the button in the elevator

“MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” “EDDIE, IT’S MY TURN!”

3. was rlly short before he hit puberty

eddie has obviously been subjected to a hell of a lot of bullying over the years, and just to add to that pile of angst, we have the idea of short eddie. gareth went through the same thing, except he didn’t grow as much. “how’s the weather down there, munson?” “fuck off, tommy.”

4. he’s either really hot or really cold

he’s wearing 3 layers half the time, and as little clothing as he can the other half. freezes during winter and sweats his ass off during the summer.

5. gets sensitive teeth

this is because he’s made himself eat a basket worth of lemons just to brag about it later on multiple occasions

6. enjoys watching b movies

those shitty low budget films? oh, yeah. eddie loves them. for one reason; he cackles the whole time over how crap they are. a great pick-me-up.

7. chews on things when he spaces out

the inside of his cheek, his lip, a pencil, and you can’t forget that one time he chewed on a pen for so long that all the ink spilled into his mouth and he was gagging in the middle of class

8. had a major crush on princess daphne from dragon’s lair

definitely fought over her with his friends. he was incredibly jealous of dirk the daring.

9. doesn’t like trying new foods

he’s attached to foods from when he was a kid (macaroni and cheese, cereal, mini pizzas, grilled cheese, and dishes from his mum) and refuses to branch out - unless you ask him to

10. swears he only listens to metal, but doesn’t

he wants to keep his ‘scary ‘music’ reputation, but it’s hard to do that when robin finds eddie’s abba and wham! tapes tucked away in his room

“i thought you were a, and i quote, ‘strictly metal-only’ guy, but i guess you were just a big pop fan this whole time” “quit it, robin”

he also doesn’t mind the country music wayne forced onto him when he was younger

11. twirls the phone cord around his finger

when he’s talking to you over the phone, you swear you can picture him clear as day; big sly grin plastered on his face, and his ringed finger wiring around the phone cord connected to the wall

12. graffitis

but only in the school bathroom cubicles and the hideout bathroom cubicles. occasionally you’ll go to one of his gigs, and then you’ll go to the toilet and there��ll be little drawings on the wall. a guitar, eddie the head, and the occasional shameless penis

13. used to ride bikes everywhere

USED to because he fell over while riding it when he was 9 and scraped his knee and declared he would never ride a bicycle again (thought that declaration broke in 1986)

14. loves roller coasters

specifically ones that take pictures of you - he loves to act all calm and collected while everyone else is screaming their heads off

“eddie, this is a terrible photo” “no, it’s a terrible photo of YOU. you look like you’ve shit yourself, and i look cool as ice”

15. thought babies hatched out of eggs

safe to say that when he learnt how babies are REALLY made, he was flabbergasted and very, very grossed out

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie smut #stranger things headcanons #eddie headcanons #eddie munson headcanons #headcanon

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missmonsters2 · 1 year

Text

—JOUSKA | THREE

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Something and nothing at all changed. Wednesday is all too aware of the distance and the horrifying realization that if she wants to be closer, than she'll have to make the first move. Cue compulsively replaying a hypothetical conversation.

Warnings: Angst. Distracted!Wednesday. Wednesday generally being Bad At Feelings™️. Enid's wise words. Thing—the opportunist. Xavier absent but still not safe from Wednesday's roasts. Blood.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there’s no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: This was intense to write, but it'll only get more intense! Likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated 🥺

Part Two

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Jouska: Noun. A hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Something and nothing at all has changed since that night.

"Hi, Wednesday."

Wednesday's eyes catch yours as she watches you flanked by two gorgon girls. You've got a white stick of a lollipop hanging in your mouth at the side, the grape confection already finished, but you don't like littering (unlike some of these other heathens at the academy).

Wednesday doesn't say anything back, but she does slow her walking down subtly, her brows relaxes and expression neutral as she looks at you. A nod of acknowledgment is all that is needed to satisfy you as you smile at her before looking away.

It's been like that since that night—the same acknowledgment, and it's all Wednesday can think about.

They've bonded, haven't they? Enid certainly said so. And if that was the case, why were you the same distance away?

Wednesday can only think back to that night.

"Black wings are the mark of a night faerie."

Wednesday doesn't rush her response. This was one of those moments, the one Enid was constantly telling her to be delicate about.

The right words—Wednesday needed the right words.

It reminded her of when she first encountered the photo of herself from Rowan, and how she, too, thought she was destined for (bad) calamity.

"Sometimes the dark doesn't cause calamity but rather is what no one expects at all," Wednesday looks at you, her eyes focused. "The solution."

But even as you give Wednesday a soft smile, she can see something dim behind your eyes, and the taste of utter defeat burns Wednesday's throat, knowing it wasn't the exact right words.

So, Wednesday was at a standstill.

And she was also far from finding a nickname for you that she'd allow everyone to call you. The only bright side was everyone else was somehow doing worse than her with their suggestions despite her not having offered anything at all.

There was a distance, Wednesday realizes. One that you seemed content to let be.

Wednesday feels jolted by the realization that she's been fairly spoiled and blessed in her life (even if she didn't feel it at the moment). It had always been Wednesday who chose to keep her distance from those around her. She had her own interests and had been content to put them above everyone else.

But ever since coming to Nevermore, her little ragtag of misfits—especially Enid—had intrusively barged into her personal space. Wednesday only had to take a small step forward, and everyone else had closed the distance.

Everyone except you.

Wednesday Addams would never deny the fact that she wasn't free from things like desire. She desired many things: rain, mysteries, victory, the fear of others, and whatever things could be described as morbid.

She told her mother that she would never be like her—never fall in love, be a housewife, or have a family. And she had meant it at that moment (although she was very sure she'll never be a housewife).

And really, it's not like Wednesday loves you or anything. But Wednesday has once felt enough to kiss a boy (who turned out to be a serial killer), and when she thinks of Enid, Eugene, and Xavier, she does feel like she has a strange little group to call a family of her own. She begrudgingly accepts Bianca to something like a distant, irritating cousin.

You piqued her curiosity very early on with your unintrusive smiles and waves. Now, you had an enigmatic background and a perhaps sense of self-preservation to remain distant. But it was too late.

Wednesday desires mystery, and she desires you.

They're not mutually exclusive.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Blood drips down from Wednesday's cheek. She touches her finger to the cut and looks at it curiously.

"You're distracted, Addams."

Wednesday looks back to Bianca, who somehow manages to look both smug and concerned. While being beaten by Bianca again still leaves the feeling of self-pity, her rage is directed at herself.

"And yet, you barely managed to defeat me," Wednesday drawls.

"Well, pull your head out of the dark, gray clouds and focus so I can put you in your place again without your excuses," Bianca shoots back without hesitation.

Wednesday starts to move into position when the coach halts it and tells her to go to the infirmary to take care of her cut. Clenching her jaw, Wednesday puts her equipment away and leaves the room.

The cut stings, and Wednesday knows it was her own fault that Bianca cut her too deep. She was distracted. She has been lately ever since her realization that if she wanted to close the distance, she would have to be the one to intrude in your space.

The problem was that Wednesday only knew how to intrude into someone's space when she was suspicious they were a serial killer—accusing and without permission.

And thus, Wednesday has been afflicted with hypothetical conversations her brain refused to stop producing. It was costing her sleep, and now the victories that should belong to her.

"Wednesday!"

Turning around, Wednesday sees Enid skipping her way down toward her. The blonde frowns when she glances at Wednesday's cheek and pulls out a white handkerchief. It’s the only colorless fabric she owns. "Fencing?"

Wednesday nods, accepting the cloth as she dabs it against her face, wiping at her jaw where it dripped.

"Lose?" Enid winces in pain.

A dark look crosses Wednesday's face, and Enid quickly changes the subject.

"Are you excited for parents' weekend?" Enid asks. "I'm surprised Principal Weems has made it so early in the year. I hear she's making changes so parents visit once at the beginning of the year and once at the end of the year."

"If by excited you mean begrudgingly accepted it, yes," Wednesday monotones.

"But it'll be interesting to see who the fairy godmother's parents will be, right?" Enid rocks on her toes in anticipation. "I heard her dad is, like, a high lord or something."

The comment does spark interest in Wednesday. She is curious about the two people who had loved you so much that they took you out of isolation and parted ways with you in this safe haven.

Assuming that they could visit you, anyway.

"That's also a witless sobriquet," Wednesday comments absentmindedly.

Enid only huffs.

"Enid," Wednesday calls evenly.

"Hm?"

"How—why—" Wednesday takes a deep breath as her eyes close for a moment. When she opens them, she finds Enid staring at her curiously with an amused smile. Wednesday knows it was because she’s never this inarticulate, but Enid is gracious enough to not say anything about it and waits patiently for her to gather her thoughts.

As patiently as she can, it seems.

"Not to rush you, but you should probably hurry on and say whatever it is you want to say so you can get on to the infirmary. The cut is starting to soak through my handkerchief," Enid gently pushes.

Wednesday grinds her teeth for a second before sighing through her nose lightly.

"How did you decide on how you wanted to be closer to me?" Wednesday asks, leaving as much emotion out of her tone as possible but cringing at her sentence. "Especially since it was obvious I wanted to keep my distance."

Enid's lip twitches, and Wednesday already regrets asking, but before she can turn around and leave, Enid answers. "Well, in your case, I think it was easier for me to tell you didn't really want to be alone, so I didn't ask."

Wednesday makes a vague face of disgust while Enid continues on.

"But in your case," Enid stresses, smirking at Wednesday's unblinking face. "I think you should ask to do something together to be closer."

Wednesday's eyes flicker as she processes Enid's words. The memory of Tyler's efforts to take her to the catacomb, how he set up lights, and a movie pops into her mind.

"Like a date," Wednesday says slowly, and horrification begins to set in.

"Er, I think that's a little too advanced for you," Enid cuts in quickly. "Maybe just try to find a way to spend more time together casually but consistently."

Enid looks at her watch. "Oh, I gotta go. Yoko and I need to start planning for the boat race this year." With that, Enid happily skips down the hallway. She turns around once and yells, "Oh, don't forget to wash the blood out of my handkerchief. I trust you'll know how to do that!"

Wednesday nods before she continues on her way to the infirmary. When she enters, she sees Weems talking to someone sitting on a cot behind the curtains.

"I'm happy you've found a friend to help you, but I'm concerned—" Weems stops as soon as she sees Wednesday, frowning as she sees the cut and then sighs, "Coach Vlad had told me you and Bianca frequently spared without your helmets. I had hoped he was joking."

The curtains suddenly opened, and Wednesday wasn’t surprised. She could tell it was you by your silhouette.

Immediately the hypothetical conversations she's been creating pops into her mind again.

"Hi, Wednesday," you smile with a short wave before you eye her cut. "Hope the other person looks worse off."

Weems clicks her tongue in disapproval, but Wednesday's lip twitches upward slightly.

The principal is about to say something else when a small, lanky boy walks in. He clutches his wrist, but Wednesday can’t make out his feature with his overgrown fringe covering his eyes. He seems to see just fine, though, as his posture stiffens at the sight of you.

"O-Oh, F-Fae," he starts to say but then stutters. "No, sorry, I-I mean—"

"It's fine," you wave away his attempt at saying your name. "Did you hurt yourself in psychitect?"

He nods.

"I suppose I should go find the nurse. She went down to the cafeteria for a quick snack," Weems says before she looks at you. "We'll finish our conversation later."

"It's fine," you wave it off. "I can help Wednesday. We’ll be gone before you’re back."

Weems purses her lips in disapproval, but you just give her a look back. Sighing, Weems nods before she turns to walk out. "Glad to see you fitting in more this year, Wednesday. It's pleasant to see you in my office less."

"It's too early in the year still," Wednesday haughtily replies, eyes trailing Weems as she leaves the room.

"Come along, Henry."

Once alone, Wednesday's eyes trail to you.

"Well, take a seat," you stand up and gesture to the cot near her as you rummage through the cabinets.

"I can do it myself."

"I'm sure you can," you absently say as you move bottles back and forth in search of something. When you find it, you turn around with a lopsided smile. "But I assure you I can do it better."

Wednesday only raises her eyes challengingly but sits down as you sit on the stool and roll over to her. She sits primly with her back straight as a rod when you come closer and closer. To allow your proximity, Wednesday has to open her legs for you to come between, being the one wearing pants.

"Pretty nasty cut," you mumble, and Wednesday can smell grape lollipops.

"I've had worse."

"Bragging, I see," you smirk as you put on gloves and use tweezers to soak a gauze pad in saline solution. "Xavier did tell me you took an arrow for him once."

"Xavier has an abnormally large mouth," Wednesday speaks tersely with a furrow of her brows. When you gently dab the soaked gauze pad on her cheek, it doesn’t sting, but Wednesday clenches her fists closed with your face so close.

"I think he was bragging," you continue to dab. "Enid and Eugene have similar anecdotes. Thing, as well."

Wednesday huffs while you merely grin lightly.

Enid's words and Wednesday's haunted hypotheticals were plaguing her again.

"What were you and Weems talking about?" Wednesday asks to redirect the conversation. She had been curious since she walked in, as it seemed like a rather serious conversation.

The thoughts aren’t going away.

"She was checking in after I told the nurse I had a friend to help me apply the medicine, and I'd only come in to do monthly examinations or if something serious happened."

Sometimes Wednesday isn’t used to people answering her questions so quickly and without pretense. She’s used to them being defensive.

'Thing shouldn't be applying your medicine.' Wednesday clenches her jaw, refusing to let the thought slip out of her mouth. With you in sight, her mind refuses to stop the compulsive hypothetical conversations.

"I see," Wednesday says slowly. "And why is Weems so particularly concerned?"

"She's my legal guardian," you answer straightforwardly, inspecting Wednesday's wound as the bleeding slows.

The sudden new information makes Wednesday blink.

'If you use your brain and think about it, Thing is a disembodied hand with stitches all over. Do you think that's sanitary? Forget the fact that Thing is vain and does well in washing his hand and moisturizes.'

You put down the tweezers and take off the gloves. Lifting your fingertips, you hover them over the cut. Wednesday watches as you concentrate before warmth and tiny little firefly-like lights seeps onto her cheek.

When it’s over, the sting of the cut is gone. Wednesday lifts her hand to touch her cheek and feels a thin bump of her skin scarred over.

'I understand your need for secrecy. I've been told I lack regard for others’ safety but I have no intentions of being the reason for your untimely death.'

You turn to grab a tub of cream and unscrew the lid. "It's not exactly perfect, but better than the usual way," you say as if apologizing. "I'll get better at it as my wings heal."

"Your powers are linked to your wings?"

'And of course, I understand you don't prefer the nurse's care. Her touch is indelicate and I imagine your wings are sensitive.'

You hum and say quietly, "A lot of it, yes. Our wings are embedded into our backs and take root inside our bodies. It's why we usually die without our wings."

"And Weems is your guardian?"

You nod. "Yes. As you know faeries stay in isolation, and faeries with my wings are...outcasts," you smirk. "My parents can't look after me like regular parents do because the more in contact with me they are, the more it exposes my location."

It makes sense. Whoever had done such abominable things to your wings should stay far, far away—lest they want Wednesday to find a way to paralyze them without taking their wings.

Still.

Wednesday studies your face as you apply the scarring cream. Your parents must've been heartbroken and scared witless to take you out of isolation and have Weems take over guardianship.

'As such, I must take responsibility for Thing and offer to take his place in applying your medication. This is an acceptable trade, is it not?'

"Your parents must've adored you so," Wednesday comments. She can certainly relate to that as she internally rolls her eyes at the thought of her own parents.

You finish applying the cream, and Wednesday has had enough of the repetitive one-sided conversation in her head. It was going to drive her crazy—and not the respectable kind.

But just as Wednesday opens her mouth to get it over with, her words die on her tongue when you look at her.

It was the same smile as that night, the one that made Wednesday's throat burn with utter defeat.

You must miss them.

"Yes, I suppose they did."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and the incessant noise of Enid's snoring is somehow amplifying her thoughts.

This. Is. Inconceivable.

The thing with Wednesday is that she had an obsessive personality. That's why solving mysteries is such a good pastime for her.

The only problem is when the mystery hasn't been solved, and she is left alone with the agonizing cliffhanger.

What if the words hadn't died on her tongue?

What if she had said them anyway, despite your smile that seemed to make Wednesday miserable.

But the truth of the matter is that she didn't, and now, she is stuck in bed coming up with new hypothetical conversations that revolve around one matter.

'Thing is indisposed.'

'I'm offering my company and assistance. Thing may stay as an additional conversationalist.'

'Surely, you must have more to say to me daily than greeting me.'

'Thing has questionable scalpel skills; therefore, I believe he's been applying your medication inaccurately. I can't have your wings—your life source—healing poorly on my hands.'

This is all Enid's fault, Wednesday determines. She turns her head to watch her peacefully, blissfully ignorant sleeping roommate.

Maybe she should come through with the threat of smothering Enid with a pillow. But in the end, Wednesday turns her head back to the ceiling.

It’s then that Thing opens the door and scuttles across the room in haste. She sits up as he climbs up onto her bed and pulls at her blanket.

"What is it, Thing?" Wednesday frowns.

Thing begins signing and tapping.

"Speak clearly, Thing. You're skipping words."

Thing taps frustratedly but slows down.

"Someone…slapped…back today?" Wednesday raises her brow but then frowns deeper. "It opened a wound up...and you can't fix it yourself? Need help...now?"

Thing taps multiple times to signify that is correct. Immediately, Wednesday gets out of bed and grabs her sweater.

"Where is she? Her room or her studio?" Wednesday asks as she shoves on her shoes, and Thing climbs onto her shoulder.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wednesday arrives at your studio, following the same sequence she did weeks ago, she finds you fallen on the ground, your wings just barely over your shoulder as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

Blood drips down and soaks your feathers, somehow making obsidian look even darker.

Wednesday walks up quickly and crouches beside you, and you barely notice her until she speaks. "Who did this to you? I want their name." She seethes.

"It was...an accident," you raggedly breathe. "She didn't know. Meant to be a friendly goodnight clap on the back."

But that doesn’t soothe Wednesday at all. Not when the back of your dress shirt is dredged in so much blood that there isn’t even a spot of white left, and your right wing twitching in obvious pain.

"What can I do?" Wednesday demands, but there was a softness to it that is almost desperation.

You swallow. "I—I need you to move my wing over my shoulder more—until I can reach the cut to seal it." You screw your eyea shut. "I can't move it on my own."

Wednesday nods. She carefully reaches out to touch your wing.

It is velvety.

Wednesday imagines it would've been more magnificent to the touch had your feathers not been weighed down and saturated by blood.

As Wednesday begins to spread your wing up and over, your breath hitches sharply.

Wednesday stops.

"Don't stop," you grit your teeth, taking in ragged breaths. "It hurts the longer you drag it out. Just—be gentle."

Gentle is not often used to describe Wednesday. She’s sharp and jagged, like broken glass. That's probably why she still plans to discover who did this to you and slowly butcher them—accident or not—as she carefully keeps moving your wing.

When it’s finally close enough for you to reach, Wednesday watches you use healing magic for the second time that day. You slump onto the grass, exhausted.

Thing grabs Wednesday's attention to the pile of towels neatly folded in a tree's hollow trunk. She finds a set of spare clothing and grabs those along with the towels.

"Is the pond water sterile?"

You nod with your eyes shut.

Wednesday places the shirt next to you and then turns to the pond, and sticks her hand in to find it was lukewarm before she soaks one of the towels.

“Change into this clean shirt for now,” Wednesday orders you but her tone lacks the usual bite. She wrings the towel and passes it to Thing. “Help her wipe the blood on her back. Turn around as she changes,” Wednesday warns Thing.

Wednesday turns away and keeps her focus on the pond, soaking the next towel. Thing taps her leg when they’re done. You look extra tired from having to change shirts but it was better than letting your bloody shirt make you sticky and then crust over before you could shower. You seem to realize it yourself as you make an effort to keep your dirty wings from soaking your shirt again.

When she returns to you, Wednesday cleans the blood out of your feathers gently but thoroughly. When she uses her fingers to brush aside some of the feathers, your wings trill.

"Tickles," you mumble.

Wednesday doesn’t comment as she continues until the blood is washed out and properly dried. Thing hands her the ointment you use and begins to apply the salve with precision.

It’s quiet.

Peaceful.

Wednesday feels the tension in her shoulders leave now that you are fine and she is here.

All those hypothetical thoughts and conversations flew right out of her head.

"I will apply this for you from now on."

You open one eye to peek at Wednesday, and she stares back at you as if to challenge her. You close your eye again and nod.

"Thanks for your services, Thing," you mumble tiredly. "Your severance package will be a bottle of dew drops."

PART FOUR

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

2K notes · View notes

macsimagines · 7 months

Note

kazutora, hakkai, and izana or anyone you like are going to visit their darlings apartment for the first time! uninvited and without her knowledge but still exciting! but when they get in there its like empty as hell. one room apartment and not counting the kitchen that came with it her only piece of furniture is her bed...maybe has a couple magazines laying around, and a phone thats just plugged into the wall sitting on the floor. this is beyond minimalist bruh what is going on? does she actually live here? where are her clothes??? under the bed maybe. babygirl you alright?

cant relate ive got so much weird shit in my living space but let me give this a shot.

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, BROKE-ASS DARLING, BREAKING AND ENTERING

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

Ok so this loser was so excited to break in and learn so much about his soulmate only to be crushed at the barren emptiness. He was so sad for you.

He wants you to have everything your heart desires and he feels like you don't have what you rightfully deserve.

Gifts, gifts, and more gifts are flooded your way. He's giving you clothes, handbags, posters and plushies. Anything you showed slight interest in he's getting you some kind of merch.

You try and tell him that you really don't need all this stuff, but he doesn't accept that. "You deserve it. C'mon, just this once?" except once turns into twice and a hundred times more.

That's not even the brunt of it, he's got his own special room he's decking out and making just for you when he decides its time for you to come home with him.

Yandere!Hakkai Shiba

So he isn't the breaking and entering type, but after failing to initiate a conversation with you, for like the tenth time in a row, he decides it's time to try a different approach.

His sister and Taka-Chan both told him to try and take an interest in your likes, that way when he tries to talk to you he'll have something to talk about, except he doesn't know what you like and he resorts to this.

So shocked and defeated when he finds nothing. Not one photo, not one hobby, not even books. Just magazines and he honestly doesn't really understand what the interest in those are either.

But he's smart and finally has an idea. He invites you shopping- and by that I of course mean his sister invites you shopping and he tags along like an overgrown guard dog.

Sure Hakkai may not speak the whole time or even make eye contact with you once but he does swipe his own card every time you go to the register to pay for something.

Even though the fool doesn't even respond when you tell him thank you, you don't miss the way he blushes when you try to speak to him.

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

He wasn't planning on breaking in either. But he was bored and he wanted to see if there were things you were hiding from him. Like maybe secret friends that meant he wasn't the center of your world, or maybe plans to move away and leave him.

It was more about his own insecurities than anything so when he breaks in and sees nothing in your apartment at first he's worried that his fears are right and you really are going to leave without a trace.

But then he looks more carefully, and realizes "Damn, bitch. You live like this?" Is more bemused than anything, but after while starts to feel a little bad.

"I need clothes. Do you need clothes?" He's going to try shopping with you. But then you hit him with that "Naw, my socks only have a few holes in them."

Drags your ass to the mall. "Pick out some damn furniture, Y/N. I know you ain't got shit." "How do you-" "I said pick out some furniture, Y/N."

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana #yandere kazutora hanemiya #yandere hakkai #yandere hakkai shiba

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earthtooz · 1 year

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I NEED ITOSHI RIN BF HEADCANONS, I BEG YOU 😭

·˚ ༘ ITOSHI RIN BF HEADCANONS !

# warnings: gn!reader, fluff and a little hurt/comfort, mentions to arguments, somewhat suggestive but no nsfw, swearing, idk how many words this is but quite a bit LOL, unedited

# a/n: LUCKY FOR BOTH OF US THAT I JUST SO HAPPENED TO WANT ITOSHI RIN BF HEADCANONS TOO. ENJOY MY FRIEND.

no one knows how you two got into a relationship and to be honest, you don't really know either. like how did you bag itoshi mf rin 😨 the most unlikeable bitch anyone will ever meet in their life... (lovingly)

bachira asked you if you were okay the first time you met and rin immediately lunged at him. like, please stop babe, you're just proving meguru's point !

how you met and all is a story for another time <3 because holy fucking shit is it a long one.

but the point is, although rin takes a while to open up, he is an amazing boyfriend, despite what everyone believes :,)

claims that he needs an independent partner bc he needs his space from time to time and you were completely understanding, even agreeing that some privacy here and there is nice.

except as it turns out, rin is the most co-dependent partner there is 💀 it's no longer 'i' bc it is now 'we'! slay!

he literally needs you to go to the grocery store with him and expects you hold his hand the entire time too- literally.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"you know how to buy your own green tea, why do i need to come with you?" you ask when rin pops his head into your study room where you were reading your book. "please?"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

you accompany him (almost) every time. if you're out he even waits for you to get home just so you can go with him like boy wtf...

well his love language is quality time saur.

expresses his love through gifts and acts of service as well. all of the gifts he buys for you are genuinely so well thought-out, like you almost tear up at all of them. one of them was a teddy bear that said 'you're better than mediocre.' and you almost cried 🗣🗣 okay but fr, he got you an anniversary gift of all his favourite moments with you, adding spotify bar codes to the pictures. there were photos from before u even dated like rin 😭😭😭😭 he is so babygirl pls take care of him.

on that note, i headcanon that rin has decent music taste. he listens to rock and alt, even anime soundtracks 🤣 but bc he's fluent in english, i bet he listens to arctic monkeys and the neighbourhood on REPEAT 🔁

wait yeah lover of music, it just makes sense for him to have a collection of headphones in his room. he likes to make you playlists too :( rinnie :( for me???

(rin also has a love language of offering you the first bite of food. you're sharing ice cream? here, have the first spoon. wanna try some of rin's lunch? he's already offering it. the smoothie he's having sounds good? he's already pushing it towards you.)

ALSO ☝️ BC THIS FUCKER LOVES HORROR, IT'S SOMETIMES TO A POINT THAT IT GETS YOU KINDA SCARED FOR YOUR LIFE... HOW IS HE SO IMMUNE TO ALL THE BLOOD... AND VIOLENCE...

he's SICK for this. you never let him pick the movies whenever you want to watch something.

also like it's a good enough reason to not get on his bad side. mans probably has 100 ways to k*ll shidou and get away with it.

anyways, rin would probably be hesitant to let you meet his family (read: sae). he's not ashamed of you, he's ashamed of sae.

so when his family demands to meet you, rin finally caves, agreeing to a dinner back home. only to find out he had nothing to worry about. his mother and father love you, saying how you were so beautiful the whole dinner, and how lucky rin was to have you. they even brought up the topic of marriage and you and rin kinda just sat there like 😐😁 smile and wave... smile and wave...

internally though, rin was over the moon knowing that you're accepted by his family. he loves his mum and dad, and although his relationship with sae is rocky with no smooth waves in sight, his opinion is... 'appreciated'.

best part was that his mother then turned to sae and went 'when are you going to get a partner as well?' and rin SENT HIM THE MOST SHIT-EATING GRIN EVER LMFAOOOOOOO

they got into a fight whilst cleaning the dishes that night.

rin then takes u home and pampers u, still high from the happiness that seeing u with his family brought 😇

WAIT ALSO - YOU TWO DEFINITELY SHOWED UP TO THE DINNER WITH MATCHING FITS >:o

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN'S WARDROBE LIKE DAMN SHAWTY... LET ME HIT... so he'll 100% shop for you too.

in fact, he's the best boyfie to take shopping, he'll be like 'no that's not your colour, but the fit is nice' or be like 'you might need a different size. this one isn't right' - you trust his judgment way more than your friends.

when you are out with your friends shopping, you'll send rin photos for his opinions and he never misses 💯 drops whatever he's doing to respond bc he's gotta make sure his pretty lover has the best wardrobe!!

rin loves paying for your shopping sprees too. no matter how much you try to wrestle him for who pays, he will always win. you make it even though by paying for your meals that day (the difference in how much money is spent on clothes and food will never compare, but it makes you feel a little less guilty so rin indulges you).

also attentive af. knows your tastes in almost everything, memorised your little habits and how you like certain things done. very dedicated bf once you realise just how much he loves doing things for you.

i just had this thought:

you know how couples post on tiktok all the time? well, you thought it would be nice if you could participate in one trend with rin.

you just thought it'd be a small post to share with your friends but instead, you seemed to forget to turn on the 'only friends can view option', it blew the FUCK up - like ofc it would, that's itoshi mf rin... but the comments were all like 'why are you with him', or 'dump him... you're too hot for him...', or 'you can do sooo much better than him'.

look, no matter how sensible rin is, he's not immune to drama and this bitch will not settle for when people tell him he doesn't deserve you like did YOU GO THROUGH TWO YEARS OF PINING??? I DON'T THINK SO. SIT THE FUCK DOWN.

so he's on your account, picks the comment 'i could treat you better than him', films himself giving the commenter the middle finger before you pull him in by the collar to give him a big ol kiss, cutting the video at the exact time that you both stumble out of frame.

look, it's not the most optimal way to fight back against the haters 🙄 but he doesn't need to prove nothing, not like anyone else gets you all to themselves.

oh this man has a banger social media presence, on his main AND on his private accounts.

he prefers posting on the priv bc there he can freely show u off and be more authentic.

itoshirinpriv I love when Y/n wears the things I buy them

─ megurusundercover when will u buy me things rinnie </3

╰┈➤ itoshirinpriv Choke and die

╰┈➤ megurusundercover kinky ;)

─ isagi11 Hi @y/n !

╰┈➤ y/n HI YOICHI !!!!

LOVES A SUPPORTIVE S/O, EVEN IF HE DOESN'T LET IT SHOW!!! WEAR HIS JERSEY AT A MATCH AND CHEER FOR HIM AND YOU HAVE HIS HEART !!! RECORD HIS MATCHES FOR HIM AND WATCH THEM WITH HIM AND HE'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER !!!!! he doesn't ask for much, just a little appreciation back :<

also don't try to compete against rin in anything unless you have guaranteed victory bc this mf is competitive AF.

will spare you on some occasions but more often than not, will give 100% into everything.

you use this to your advantage like 'hey babe, wanna see who can clean more of the house in one hour?' and HE TAKES IT SERIOUSLY EVERY TIME. to be fair, so do you because like you want a clean house, but rin is SO speedy when there's a challenge involved.

easy defeat every time but you can't be mad.

hc that rin can't cook for shit. so you'll have to be there with him or just ban him from the kitchen straight up.

you taught him how to make microwave popcorn and that's about the only thing he is permitted to make.

even his diet-regulated smoothies are all made by you because holy fuck he somehow always messes up the recipe despite it being really clear and concise.

also you steer clear from him when he's working out because he just looks TOO GOOD working out that i makes you feel a little funny and pathetic 😇

if you are someone who does enjoy exercise, rin would love to take this chance to spend some more time together. you could be doing a pilates workout and rin is in the corner lifting weights, glancing over to you ever so often, sending him winks when you catch him.

loves going on hikes with you, no matter the difficulty, how steep or flat, he just really likes being active and if you join him, he'll be SO happy.

also u know how he loves yoga and meditation? if hiit and sweat-inducing workouts aren't for you, he likes stretching with you and teaching you breathing exercises that help throughout the day.

100/10 MASSEUSE BTW !!!! 👍👍👍👍

ofc, relationships aren't always perfect and especially when dealing with rin, someone who has quite a fair bit of trauma from being abandoned and left behind, it only worsens the tension.

believes you're going to leave him every time </3 like no :( just bc you're mad at him doesn't mean you've stopped loving him.

communication is so important. rin has a tendency to catastrophize a lot so please, put your pride aside and talk to him! reassure him! spend some time with him! that's how post-arguments usually go.

then you'll talk it out calmly, expressing both of your perspectives, apologising for breaking boundaries and trying to adapt accordingly.

this routine is a delicate one and it took months of putting aside your immaturity in order to grow together. especially rin who is so full of pride, but when he realised that his stubbornness wasn't winning him anything, he shattered his hardened perception of self and let you in.

"rin?" you whisper, poking your head into your shared bedroom delicately, afraid to upset the beast sleeping in there even more.

"what," he snaps, sitting on his side of bed in a hunched over position. he hugs his legs close to his body and the sight breaks your heart a little.

"i'm watching 'the shining', you can join me if you'd like to."

he grumbles something inaudible before you close the door quietly, hoping he'd cave because you chose this movie just so he'd come around. it's his favourite after all.

setting out a bowl of popcorn and some beverages of choice, you just manage to get the movie up when rin emerges from the bedroom, all gloomy and moody. he plops down on the opposite side of the couch, chin on his hand.

he's pretending like you don't exist which is fine by you, you know he'll cave eventually. so, you slide a cup of water and the bowl of popcorn to him and settle in, pressing 'play'.

around 15 minutes in or so, you're too engrossed in the movie to hear rin's quiet shuffling, and how he's now crossed the distance to sit next to you. his hand comes up to your shoulder to get your attention and when he has it, rin's quick to manoeuvre you so that you were now lying down on the couch.

he then plops down, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your chest.

"i'm sorry," whispers the striker. such simple words with such heavy meaning, especially coming from him.

you know he wants to say more, but you know better than he can't get it out, so, you begin threading your fingers through his hair, just how he likes it. rin softens completely against you.

"it's okay," you reassure.

"you're too good for me."

the next morning there's a bouquet of flowers and dessert from your favourite bakery on the kitchen counter.

rin wakes up at a reasonable hour. he likes to start off his days between 8 to 9 am, with 9-10 hours of sleep.

your sleep cycle has been synced with his because he hates sleeping without you beside him.

unless you have a good reason to push back sleep, he will not stand for it. stop depriving yourself of sleep and give your body the rest it deserves!!!!!

has a set night routine with you.

also i'm sorry but rin loves making out + neck and hand kisses are his favourite to give to you + he loves receiving temple and lip kisses.

goes to parties and clubs but very reluctantly. he doesn't like to drink, especially during soccer season, so there's not a lot of joy he can find in going out, except when he gets to eye you up and down all night and have fun with you AYEEEE 🕺😩

'you can wear whatever u want, i can fight' bf.

one thing you learn abt this man overtime is that he truly does not care how you dress. even tho it seems like he's judging you, he loves everything you wear and will admire you appreciatively 24/7.

#hope u enjoyed !#quite self indulgent but i can't help it T^T #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #itoshi rin fluff #blue lock fluff #itoshi rin x you #rin x you #rin itoshi x you #blue lock rin #itoshi x reader #blue lock itoshi rin #rin fluff #itoshi rin drabble

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