#the red and green gfs of all time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovebugism · 7 months

Note

Ok but what about Eddie dating a reader who snores and the gang is like wtf but he finds it cute.

ty for requesting anon! this is dedicated to everyone who gets sleepy at 5pm like i do hahah — eddie's girlfriend falls asleep during movie night and it's a big deal in the sweetest way (sleepy gf!reader, established relationship, 1.4k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

A masked serial killer slaughters a group of pretty teenage girls. Their screams are high-pitched and painfully artificial. The murderer’s chainsaw is way too loud and far too dramatic a weapon. The bright red blood splatters across the baby pink bedroom in several obnoxiously vivid splotches.

Eddie Munson has never been more grateful to be alive in the golden age of slasher films — the absolute peak of godawful cinema.

He turns to the pretty little thing dozing on his shoulder and grins quietly to himself.

You’re the purest essence of beauty in all forms, but especially compared to the barbaric horror flashing across the television screen across the room. In the darkness, the neon glow paints you in varying shades of blue, green, and dark red.

You’re so pretty it hurts.

Eddie didn’t think he could love anything more than dumb slasher movies. Not until he met you, anyway.

“Tired?” he whispers to you when your lashes flutter across the apples of your cheeks.

It’s hardly seven o’clock — the sun has just barely set over the horizon — and more than anything, the tiny trailer is filled with fake screams and faker blood. Most people would be too horrified to be so drowsy. Not you, though.

Everyone’s always admired your relationship with sleep, but maybe just a little extra now.

Your features are blurry with the longing of slumber. They scrunch in refusal when you shake your head, cheek rubbing against the soft cotton of Eddie’s thrifted tee. “No,” you hum with a softness that says otherwise. “‘M just cozy…”

Everyone knows what that’s code for.

All the gang was over for movie night — some more begrudgingly than others (Steve, namely). The brunette boy shares a side eye with Robin on the other side of the couch before both of them turn to look at you.

Lucas sits on the floor and stuffs his face with popcorn, which he almost chokes on when he laughs. Max giggles at the boy in response from where she’s sandwiched between him and Dustin.

Each of them can practically count down the seconds until you’re fully asleep.

You inhale once — deeply, sharply. The curly-haired boy turns his wrist to check his watch.

“7 p.m…” Dustin observes with raised brows. He nods to himself like he’s impressed. “That’s gotta be some kinda record, right?”

“I’m pretty sure she was out by six when we were at Steve’s yesterday,” Robin tells him as she leans over Lucas’ shoulder for the popcorn bowl he’s holding hostage.

“Full on snoring by six-thirty,” Steve concurs through a mouthful of candy. “And her legs were on my lap, too, so I couldn’t move for, like, two hours.”

“What about last movie night?” Max questions with pinched brows. “I’m pretty sure she was asleep before it even started.”

Lucas shakes his head. “She was just napping, right? I’m pretty sure she woke up, like, halfway through.”

Dustin nods — the official connoisseur of you and all your sleepiness. You had been asleep by the time Steve turned The Outsiders on, but your internalized love for Dallas Winston had woken you part of the way through.

“It had to be scrubbed from the records,” the boy explains like it’s something a whole lot more official than you just being tired. “It only counts if she stays asleep.”

“What if her eyes are closed, and she’s using your arm as a pillow, and you don’t have any feeling left in your fingers?” Robin questions with narrowed eyes, recounting the events from the last movie night in question. “What about that?”

“Still doesn’t count,” Dustin shakes his head with a feigned sympathy.

Eddie listens to them with a distant smile on his face. They’re not making fun of you exactly, just noticing all your little idiosyncrasies that he loves so much. It’s what makes you you — the quiet, sleepy girl that’s all but the glue of the group.

If you’re somewhere else when everyone’s all hanging out together, and not snoozing on someone’s shoulder, something just doesn’t feel right.

“Isn’t she the fuckin’ cutest?” the boy muses amidst the light-hearted banter, the horror movie long forgotten.

His bright smile and twinkling eyes are met with a group of deadpanned stares.

It isn’t because you aren’t cute, because you are. Why else would Robin and Steve let you use them as pillows even after their appendages have long gone numb? You’re like a cat sleeping on their stomach — it’s too much of an honor to wake you.

Their dumbfounded gapes are more so a result of Eddie’s adoration for you. Because you’re you, and Eddie’s… Eddie.

You’re polar opposites.

You’re quiet and sweet and gentle, and Eddie’s never been any of those things once in his life.

You’ve brought out a softer side of him — one that none of them thought a brash metalhead like him could ever have. He talks to you far sweeter and far more gently than he’d ever speak to the rest of them. Mostly because he knows you get spooked too easily and that you always wince whenever people yell. And his PDA is an innocent kind, full of held hands and forehead kisses and boops to the tip of your nose.

Eddie Munson is so soft for you that he lets you drool on his shoulder and unknowingly steal all the covers from him when you fall asleep during movie night.

He’s so far gone for you that he’ll let you drag him to bed when most people his age are heading out to party for the night — just so you can drool on him and take all the covers from him in his bedroom, where you can sleep more comfortably than on the couch.

It’s all so sweet, it’s downright disgusting.

“It’s gross how in love the two of you are,” Steve monotones, the only one brave enough to say it out loud even though they’re all thinking it.

“I know,” Eddie affirms with a wide grin. “It’s amazing, huh?”

They all grumble under their breaths about it, obviously not as mushy with adoration as he is.

It isn’t his fault they’re miserable because they don’t have their own soulmate who gets tired at 5 p.m. and snoozes on their shoulder accordingly. They’d be a lot less crabby if they had someone like you to gush about.

Not you, though. ‘Cause you’re his and everything. But someone just like you, maybe.

Everyone dissipates when the credits of the movie start to roll — either to get more food, or use the bathroom, or stretch their aching limbs.

Eddie stays unmoving. He doesn’t want to wake you up.

You begin to rouse on his shoulder, shifting as you wake with a deep inhale-exhale. Your eyes flutter slowly open, and through the haze of sleep, you notice the empty living room and the scrolling names on the television screen.

“’S the movie over?” you question, slurred with the heaviness of slumber.

Eddie nods lazily against the couch.

He’s about as tired as you are now, with his legs cocked up on the coffee table and his head lolled back against the cushions. “Yeah. It’s okay, though. You didn’t really miss anything,” he assures with a crooked smile.

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep…” you murmur, like you’re embarrassed to have slept so soundly.

“I know,” the boy hums softly to you. “’S okay…”

Your temple rests against his shoulder once more. “Wake me up before you start the next movie?” you ask when Eddie presses a lingering kiss to your hair. Your eyes are already fluttered shut again.

“Sure,” he answers, despite lacking any real intention to wake you.

He’d much rather let you sleep. He knows you need it. He doesn’t mind that you get tired before the sun has set, even though he knows how much you hate it. He couldn’t love it more, personally.

So, he lets you fall back asleep on his shoulder and tries to ignore how much it makes his heart swell. His ribcage shakes with the intensity of how much he loves you — how privileged he feels that you trust him enough to drool on his shoulder and not be embarrassed about any of it. You know he loves you too much for any of that.

“She still asleep?” Steve questions when the gang settles back in the living room. He rattles M&Ms in his palms before chucking a handful into his mouth. When Eddie nods, the boy snorts. “I’m glad it’s your arm falling asleep this time and not mine.”

Eddie’s glad for it, too.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

2K notes · View notes

multistan-247 · 1 year

Text

❝ 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖇𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖐𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖊 ❞

⚠︎ Characters: bf! toji zenin x gf! fem reader

⚠︎ Warnings: 18+, cunnilingus, explicit smut, nipple play, nicknames, established relationship, toji showing off his strength and his insatiable appetite for you.

⚠︎ Synopsis: Toji loves to get his hands on you when you slip on his t-shirts after a long night of love making and wants more.

A/N: a repost because tumblr loves to be a bish and send complaints abt one of my best works.

He's been at this for a while now.

Ever since Toji slid his hands up your thighs, smirking when learnt the absence of your panties, his chuckle in your ears makes you shudder.

"An open invite for me, huh sweetheart? Well, who am I to say no to that?"

So when you found yourself laying on the cold kitchen counter, bare for his eyes to feast upon, a blush streaks the plum of your cheeks. His eyes soften when they catch you blushing, but the predatory look never fades.

He hums and buries his raven head between your thighs, immediately gaining moans from you as his mouth greedily takes what he wanted.

"I eat pussy for myself." He'd said, the first time he ate you out.

Loud slurping sounds, provocative and loud, now fill the kitchen as the aroma of freshly made coffee and toast linger in the air.

"T-Toji."

You mewl, tugging at his free raven locks and your thighs threaten to close around his head. Calloused hands grip them open, squeezing or running his thumbs over your skin mindlessly.

Toji was a starved man, finally finding his elixir of life between your thighs, his own personal heaven. He was selfish with the way he eats you out but knew exactly what triggers you.

Your moans grow high-pitched when he slowly drives his tongue into your pussy, drawing the beginning of an orgasm from you. His slurps become louder; filthier. Your nipples tighten, and he notices the effect of his actions in your bodily reactions.

"Toji- Toji- please- please-"

"Shhh, little girl. You're distracting me."

He says in a reprimanding tone and hooks his brawny arms under your thighs, pulling you impossibly close to his greedy mouth.

"Ha- Toji!"

He doesn't stop at all.

You feel the peak of your orgasm unraveling quickly, but steadily, reducing all your moans into mewls of his name, your fingers tugging at your nipples.

He suddenly lets go of you, shock registering into your body when he slides his hands up your back, supporting your lower half and one around your neck, lifting you quite effortlessly, the position allowing him a lot more access to your pretty pussy as you squeal and your thighs twitch.

Toji's head is sandwiched between your thighs and he couldn't be more happier.

"I love your pussy. So wet and complaint for me."

He groans, the vibrations arousing goosebumps on your hypersensitive body. And then, his swollen lips suck on your clit so hard, your vision is reduced to black spots and then you come, his tongue going back to dive into your hole, not wasting a single drop of your juices.

"Fuck. You squirted."

Rising up from between your legs, the emerald green of his eyes blown wide with the lust occupying him. His mouth is red, coated in a sheen layer of your transparent juices and he darts out his tongue to lick it; and you groan, hiding your burning face behind your hands.

"You're so filthy." You tell him as you sit up, and he laughs, throwing his head back and eyes scrunching.

"Only for you, darling."

"Gimme my shirt. I'm cold and hungry." You pout, the coldness of the granite slab chilling you despite your previous activity.

"Nuh-uh. I'm hungry for your pussy. Breakfast can wait." He growls, sending another spark of desire to your belly. You don't have the opportunity to protest when he picks you up and makes his way to your shared room.

The neighbours hate the both of you for sure.

4K notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 15 days

Note

There is a trend on some social media where the wife/Gf gives her man a full plate and only her self a little saying that is all that was left. How would Andy and Ari act in that situation?

What's Eating You, Mr. Levinson?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to read Andrew Barber's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Brief Mention of Calorie Counting, Bickering, Manhandling, Threats of Spanking/Punishment, Discussion of a Sex Tape, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Ari Levinson from my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to do this. If anybody asked, you would claim temporary insanity. But right now you were about to get up to some mischief.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” You mutter under your breath as you adjust the position of the camera you hid tucked away behind a plant. Pleased with the angle, you make a mental note to revisit the world of Harry Potter sooner rather than later.

It was officially time for a reread.

Tonight you were gonna play a little joke on your bounty hunter boyfriend. One that you’d come across the other day after accidentally straying from the wonderful world of BookTok. You just hoped he would find it as amusing as you did. In fact, you were certain that he would.

Eventually.

Hands on your hips, you do an about-face and traipse back into the kitchen to get started on dinner. On tonight’s menu was a Tuscan pork roast, complete with red wine mushrooms and Haricots Verts – also known as French Green Beans. And for dessert, you’d decided to whip up your man’s favorite: key lime pie

So, even if he got pissed at you later, you were confident you had something that would soothe his ruffled feathers.

Fingers crossed.

Later that Evening…

The heady thrum of excitement hits you the moment you hear the open and shut of your front door. Having anticipated his arrival, you’d even thrown on a new dress and cued up a little music. While it wasn’t your usual style, you knew without a doubt that Ari would appreciate your efforts.

“Bird?”

The sound of your nickname has a smile forming on your lips before you even realize it. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you make your way towards your mudroom, eager to greet your handsome bounty hunter.

His eyes light up the moment he sees you. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight you clad in your new black dress and wedge heels.

“Well, get a look at you.” He breathes, allowing his bag to drop at his feet next to his forgotten boots.

“You like?” Biting your lip, you give into temptation and do a little spin.

Confidence blooms when you hear his appreciative whistle. But that’s nowhere near enough for your man. Because now that you’d gone and given him a show, he wanted more.

“Oh baby, I love.”

Pulling you into his arms, his mouth quickly descends upon your own. His tongue wastes no time finding yours, exploring every inch, every corner of your mouth. He lets you know without words that he’s so unbelievably happy to be home holding you like this.

You cling to him, your hands roving beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt to run along the sculpted plane of his back. When he finally lets you up for air it’s so he can nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, unique scent.

“You’re beautiful.” He rasps, pecking your lips once more, his large hands come up to frame your face. “So beautiful. Can’t wait to take this dress off you later, see what you might be hiding underneath.”

“All in good time, Beast.” Your lashes flutter closed as you lean into his touch. “All in good time.”

“What if I don’t wanna wait?” His husky growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest as he fiddles the material of your skirt.

“Well, you’re gonna.” Comes your cheeky response. “So go on and wash up for supper. We’re having something yummy.” You bat as his hands, intending to shoo him up the stairs.

The look that flashes across your man’s face makes it clear that he’d much rather have you for dinner instead. He boxes you in, slowly crowding you with his much larger frame as he backs you against a nearby wall.

However, you refuse to let yourself be swayed.

“I mean it, mister.” You repeat, poking him in the chest. “Now, be a good boy and go wash up.” Ari’s eyes darken at your words. His head dips without warning as he bites your finger, sucking the digit into his mouth, making you gasp.

“Alright, Duchess. Have it your way.” He growls once he finally deigns to release you. “You’d best be ready for me when I get back.” With that, he gives you his back as he strides off in the direction of the stairs.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You tell his retreating form, waiting until you hear his heavy footfalls sounding on the floor above you. Only then do you move, intending to finish setting up for dinner.

‘Alright, sugar.’ You think, taking a second to fluff your curls. ‘Time to earn yourself an Oscar.’

Fifteen Minutes Later…

You’ve just finished hiding away what’s left of your meal when you hear Ari make his way into your tiny dining room.

“Have a seat, Beast!” You call out, hoping that the act you were about to put on was at least mildly convincing. “I–I’ll be right in.”

Blowing out a breath you snag your bounty hunter’s plate, along with a glass of wine, and head into the next room. Although he admittedly wasn’t much of a wine drinker before he met you, he tended to enjoy whatever selection you paired with your meal.

Tonight you’d picked a lovely pinot noir.

This time when you see him, you’re treated to the sight of a freshly showered Ari lazily sprawled in one of your slightly too small chairs. His still damp hair is pushed back off his face as he waits for you, patiently biding his time while he plans his next move.

Or so you assumed, anyway.

“Here you are.” You sing as you approach. “Tonight I bring you an expertly roasted Tuscan pork loin, complete with a garlic and mushroom risotto and french-style green beans.”

“Smells good, baby.” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw while he surveys the mountain of food on his plate.

“Hopefully it tastes good too.” You lean down to press a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll, uh, be right back with mine.” The handsome brute smacks your ass when you turn to depart, making you yip.

“Hurry back.” He grunts, letting out a chuckle when he sees you trying to rub the sting out of your butt.

Seconds later you return with your food before quietly taking a seat at the table, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Picking up your napkin, you make a show of draping it across your knee, and then…

You wait.

It doesn’t take long for Ari to notice the differences between your respective plates, and it takes even less time for him to speak on it – much to your internal satisfaction.

“What the–?” Ari pushes his plate aside so that he can get a better look at your virtually empty one. “Where the hell’s the rest of your food, baby?” His deep voice comes out deceptively soft.

“Huh?” You cast him a sheepish glance, feigning embarrassment. “Oh this? It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bird.” The quiet steel in his voice is impossible to miss.

“I know it wasn’t. But this was all that was left, so…” You trail off, averting your gaze in favor of using your fork to push food around your plate. “It’s fine.”

“There’s that damn word again.” You hear him grumble under his breath, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “I got news for you, Bird. It ain’t fine.” He grouses, reaching for you even as you shift away.

“But it is.” You sing, daintily fanning yourself with a napkin.

“No it isn’t.” He sings right back, clearly not understanding your game. Which was a good thing. It meant that you two could play a little longer.

“Look, if this is about you feeling like you need to start counting calories again…” Ari goes to rest his elbows on the table, his own meal all but forgotten. “Then please believe me when I tell you that you look phenomenal. And not just tonight, baby. I mean every night.”

You feel your cheeks heat as your body responds to his praise. That familiar warmth soon spreads, pooling in your belly while you mentally preen at his words.

“Thank you, Ari.”

“Oh don’t thank me, sweet girl.” His already husky voice dips another octave. “I just want you to eat.” You stifle a small shiver when the roughened pads of his fingertips lightly graze over your hand. “Now, do me a kindness and take your pretty little self back into that kitchen and fix yourself a proper plate.”

And there it was. He thought you were lying about there not being any leftovers. He was right, of course. Just not the way he thought he was.

“I would if I could, sugar.” You stretch out your legs beneath the table as you prepare to really sell the narrative. “Honest. But there really isn’t anything left. I…accidentally only bought one pork loin instead of two. And then I misjudged the recipe for the risotto, but that was most likely on account of the fact that I was in my feelings about the state of Herb & Twine’s green beans selection. It wasn’t very good.”

Ari doesn’t tell you this, but he’s actually impressed by your ability to speak that fast without so much as taking a breath. Instead all you receive is a gruff “uh huh” for your trouble.

“So,” You forge on, now fully committed to the bit. “I salvaged what I could out of the meal I planned and then gave most of it to you.”

“Why?”

Boy, he did not look happy. Which was great news for you

“Because…” You draw out the word, wincing when you belatedly notice the sudden tick in his jaw. “I just…felt like you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

“Oh.” He hums, pursing his lips as he mulls over your story. “Well, I reckon we’ll just have to fix that.”

Unsure of what he means, you open your mouth to keep talking, only to let out a shriek when Ari suddenly reaches over to grip the back of your chair to drag you, and it, over closer to him.

“Christ, Beast!” Your hand flies to your still-heaving chest as you will your heartbeat to calm down.

But your man’s not done yet.

You scarcely have time to catch your breath before you’re hauled into his lap. Immediately your arms go to weave themselves around his neck to keep you from falling. Not that Ari would’ve ever allowed that to happen.

Seemingly unbothered by your rather dramatic response, Ari seeks to balance you on top of his muscled thighs as he leans over again to retrieve your plate. You watch in confusion as he unceremoniously dumps the contents onto his own dish before setting yours aside once more.

“Hate to break it to you, Duchess.” He seamlessly adjusts your positions so that he can grasp his knife and fork. “But I don’t need all this food. So it looks like we’ll just have to share.”

Momentarily stunned by this turn of events you can only nod as he feeds you a tender bite of pork. It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you finally do, it’s to utter two simple words.

“Ari, wait.”

“‘Fraid I’m not really in the mood to wait.” Your impatient bounty hunter warns. But he does pause his efforts, his fork hovering mere centimeters from your mouth. “You’re nuts if you think I’m the kinda man who would even consider stuffing himself while his lady sits by and starves.”

“I know.” You assure him before rearranging your body so that you’re facing him, your thighs now straddling his hips. “And I think that’s awfully sweet.”

“Great. So how about you –”

“But since this is a prank…” The grin you’re sporting threatens to split your face in two. “It looks like you get to keep your food.”

Ari blinks back at you, his mouth briefly opening and closing in a way that very much reminds you of a fish. You feel positively giddy as you press your hands on either side of his bearded face so you can plant a kiss on his full lips while he tries, and fails, to make sense of what you just said.

“Run that by me one more time.” His quiet snarl is enough to have you soaking your panties.

“I saw this thing on TikTok, where these women all decided to prank their boyfriends by serving them this big ol’ plate of food, while pretending to give themselves only a little bit and claiming that was all that was leftover. They filmed their reactions and posted ‘em for everyone else to see.”

“What the hell is a fuckin’ TikTok?”

“It’s this app where you…” You pause as you try to find the right words. “Where people can, um–”

“Post dumb shit?” He quirks a tawny brow as he tries to remain serious, even though you’re also pretty sure that you just saw his lips twitch. “Come up with new and inventive ways to torture the men that love them?”

“I mean, that’s not all it is.” You take a moment to whisper kisses along his chiseled jaw. “But I guess that’s a pretty accurate description.”

“Hmph.” Your grumpy bounty hunter continues to glower at you, even as his large, warm hands move to settle on your hips. “And am I right to assume you’re recording this?”

“Maybe…” You giggle, not bothering to hide just how funny you found this all to be. “Oh – but I was never gonna post it. Promise.”

You hold up your pinky, trying your hardest to look solemn. But the look Ari gives you lets you know that he’s done falling for your act.

“I’m warning you, Duchess.” He grunts, lightly bouncing you on his lap. “I swear to God, if I catch myself on that fuckin’ tock clock…thing…you have my word that I’m gonna redden that ass.”

“I already told you I wasn’t gonna.” You reassure him once more, resting your forehead against his. “By the way, thanks for bein’ such a good sport about the whole thing.”

“No problem.” He flashes you a feral grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. It shoots straight to your core. “But the way I see it, you kinda owe me one. Don’t you?” He leans in close as his hands begin gently kneading your curves.

“Um…I don’t think–” You let out a soft whimper when he drags his nose along the delicate column of your throat.

“Oh, but I do.” He nips at your jaw.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“Trust me, it is.” His sensual growl has you practically shivering with need. “Which is why you’re gonna show me where you hid that camera.” His lust-filled gaze drops to your cleavage as he openly begins undressing you with his eyes.

“Now hold on a minute, Beast –” You stammer once realization dawns.

“Aw, don’t fret.” Ari’s rueful chuckle lets you know that you will never win this battle. “You’ll have your turn to direct our little movie.” Ari suddenly stands without warning so that he can gently deposit you back in your own chair. “Especially now that I know how much you love performing for the camera.

Oh, the man had you there. Sometimes your Beast was a bit too cunning for your liking.

“I don’t think–” You try again, now feeling shy. “What we do in the dark has no business being on film!”

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to keep the lights on. But for now, let’s get you fed.” He drops a kiss on your head before picking up your empty dish and sauntering off towards the kitchen. “We’ll talk lighting and camera angles once you’re finished.”

Good Lord on high. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“Here we are.” Ari continues upon his return a few minutes later. He sets your down in front of you before taking your napkin and redraping it across your lap. “But I’d eat fast if I were you.”

“Um…why?” You ask, eyeing him warily.

“Because.” He winks at you before taking a seat and enthusiastically spearing a piece of meat onto his fork. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal starts in thirty minutes.”

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

@katymae12344

@identity2212

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

@pono-pura-vida

@daykrisr999

@jamneuromain

@ninacutebee16

@whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@emerald-writes

446 notes · View notes

kindtim3 · 8 months

Text

my gf!abby hc’s ༚༅༚˳ dark vers

sfw gf!abby hc’s —> part 1 ♥︎ / part 2 ♥︎ / part 3 ♥︎ (dark vers)

౨ৎ warnings - nsfw / mdni / fem!r / mean!abby / gf!abby / strap on (r!receiving) / scissoring / dom!abby / sub!r / r has female genitalia / slapping (r!receiving) / namecalling : whore, slut / bondage / vibrator (r! and a! receiving) / mommy kink / modern au

gf!abby l o v e s missionary— getting to see ur fucked out face and glossy eyes is the best part of it all for her.

gf!abby leaves marks. neck, tits, thighs, ass, hips, it’s covered in her ‘love marks.’

“oh, babyyy, u look so pretty with my love marks all up on u.”

gf!abby is a biggg fan of scissoring!! she’s pushing all up on u and she’s making sure ur looking at her.

“don’t stop looking at me, baby. look at me when i cum on you.”

gf!abby LOVES SEEING U IN PINK LINGERIE. SHE GETS ALL RED AND SHY.

“oh my god, u look so good. can i kiss u?? please??”

gf!abby is indeed very dominant but she’s begging for u… even when she knows she’s already got u. like she’ll scissoring u and she’ll be begging u to move ur hips back on her.

“pleaseeee baby, please. move those hips on me, please” :(

gf!abby also scissors u with a vibe in the middle of u guys. she wants u to rub on it while she does too! she’s a nasty girlll.

mean!abby had a longggg talk with u abt sex with her. she would never let u guys have sex without u knowing how rough it could get. u both have boundaries set, enthusiastic consent, safe words & safe actions ( i.e. tapping her shoulder, green, yellow, red). she’s very serious abt it!!

mean!abby wants u on ur knees sucking her strap. and she slaps the strap on ur face when u need a break.

mean!abby slaps ur face while in missionary when u won’t look at her. and she also calls u names while doing so!

“look at me. ur such a fucking slut for me.”

“aw poor little whore can’t take it anymore?” she had u cum on her mouth 4 times already.

mean!abby likes to ride ur face like a mad woman. she’s GRINDING DOWNNNNN.

mean!abby likes to tie u up and force u to watch her use the vibe on herself. she’ll occasionally give some attention to u and put the vibe on ur pussy just enough to make u super close, but she’ll never let u finish.

mean!abby tells u to call her mommy and omg she actually goes wild.

“fucking say it again. yeah, that’s right. mommy’s making u feel so good, hmm?” shes fucking her strap into u, deep but annoyingly slow.

“mhm, mommy’s gonna make it all better.”

౨ৎ a/n - will u guys even like this? idk. i hope so. cuz it took me two days of thinking and thinking (AND THINKING!!!) to write… :) also seeing boymuna all over my fyp and tl… IM FUCKING SICK OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! they’re so 😦 like haiiiiiiii can i join :3 theyre so cute tg i love them boys !

#bey writes <3 #abby x reader smut #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby the last of us #gf!abby #mean!abby #gf!abby x reader #mean!abby x reader #abby anderson x reader smut #abby anderson hcs #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader

1K notes · View notes

macfrog · 9 months

Text

mile high sex on fire chapter three

we're going overseas baby! (this is gonna be a three-parter cause i hyperfixated and couldn't stop myself so BUCKLE UP) author's note: i absolutely do NOT condone the use of private jets. they are GROSS and terrible for the environment and just fucking fly commerical ok? but in this ceo!joel ficland, private jets are fuelled by delusion and emit only clean, pure oxygen. thank you for reading. now, with that in mind, please enjoy reader being railed in a plane cabin. i love u all to paris n back 🤍🥐

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: you accompany joel on a work trip to paris, to eat good food, drink expensive wine, and…get to know each other a little better

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) environmental crime, plane sex, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, daddy kink, joel being a fucking exhibitionist menace, creampie, more gf representation, showering together, softdom!joel, sugardaddy!joel, heavy on the flirting, age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), cursing, very ridiculous spending on very ridiculous things, workplace relationship and therefore odd power dynamic yadda yadda yadda

word count: 6.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.” “They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.” “Who?” Joel asks. He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes. “Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

You’ve never been on a work trip with Joel. Usually, he likes to take them alone. Martha told you once about a time a couple years before you started when Joel took an intern to a conference in Canada, and the kid spent the entire first night in the hotel bar, missed the conference the next day, and only just made the flight home, scruff of his neck between Joel’s knuckles.

He racked up a bill of nearly a thousand dollars just on liqueur and finger food. Joel had sworn he’d never take anybody anywhere with him again.

But there’s this client over in Europe he’s due to meet – an annual thing where they sit on the terrace of some luxurious hotel, drink expensive wine that tastes like piss, according to Joel, and have a cock-off over their money and status.

Sounds like fun, right?

You’ve a pretty good idea why he asked you. And he made a pretty convincing pitch: he’d promised you a relaxing weekend. You didn’t have to sit in on any meetings, he’d let you amble around the city by day, take you for a fancy dinner or two at night. All expenses paid. You barely had to lift a finger.

As per the deal, Martha organized the travel documents. Printed them, collated them, handed them to you in a neat little folder with a paperclip on top and a Post-It note with Have fun! written in red ink. You’d slipped it into your bag and followed Joel to his car, nodding to Rand as you ducked under the starlit ceiling.

Joel’s left hand sits around your thigh – because where else would it be? – his right clutching his phone, thumb scrolling as he absentmindedly reads some document. You’re watching the city soar by from behind tinted glass. Before long, it’s the dark green of trees flickering by, and then, canvased by the clear blue sky, an air traffic control tower in the distance.

The Rolls saunters past the main entrance to the airport. You watch it roll by, leaning forward in your seat.

“Wait, what…?”

“What, baby?” Joel asks, looking up from his phone.

You usually knew every fine detail of the plan by heart. It was your job to. But with Martha being in charge of arranging your flight, you’d missed one crucial speck of information this time. And that is –

You’re travelling by private fucking jet.

The car drives across smooth tarmac toward a pointed white plane, bold against the brilliant blue sky behind it. There are four people standing at the bottom of the steps leading into it; what you assume are the two pilots, and two smartly dressed flight attendants.

“How did I never know you had a…?”

Joel smirks. “Never showed you it. C’mon.”

He gets out, strolls around to your door and opens it for you. You’re still gawking at the jet.

“Jeez…” you whisper, hopping out of the car.

“What is it?” he says through a chuckle, leading you across the tarmac.

“I feel so…Everyone looks so…I’m in my fucking sweatpants, Joel.”

He looks at you under low brows, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Like he doesn’t want to hear one more word of it. He holds an arm out; his pinkie bumps into your tummy.

“I think you look beautiful, darlin’.”

It might’ve stopped you in your tracks. Might’ve crumbled the entire airport to dust. Might’ve made the sun drop out of the sky. You’re not sure. You wouldn’t notice if you dropped dead right now.

His words, his soft voice when he says them, send a pang of white noise through your ears, echoing around and bouncing off the walls of your head.

You swallow. Digest what he just said. And do your best to forget all about it.

Joel takes your hand and leads you to the plane steps, helping you up. He follows at your heels. “Thanks, Jerry, Lisa,” he says. You give both pilots a nervous smile as you pass.

The airconditioned cabin chills your arms when you reach the top, twisting around to look back to Joel.

“Go on.” Joel nods, palm ushering you inside.

You step forward and turn right, standing in the doorway to a pristine, white-walled, wooden interior cabin, leather seats dotted against the walls, dark brown glassy tables between them, soft gray carpet at your feet, vacuum cleaner lines still visible. There’s a long plush couch on the left wall, today’s newspaper on the side table next to it.

You feel Joel’s body shell around yours, his chin dips against your ear.

“Like it?”

“Not really. Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution.”

“How many trees you want me to plant to make up for it?”

You tut. “What are you doin’ in business? You’re so funny.”

You wander off without looking back, heading for one of the window seats.

“Uh,” Joel clears his throat, “there’s a separate cabin up back, too, if you want it.”

“Separate cabin?”

He nods. “’s got a bed. It’s cozy.”

A bed. Of course this asshole has a fucking bed in his private jet.

The pilots file in behind him, dipping into the cockpit. The flight attendants follow, and begin preparing for takeoff. Joel strolls over to the seat opposite yours, giving your legs a nudge under the varnished table when he sits down.

You both click your seatbelts into place, relax, and look out the window as the jet rolls by the airport, heading for the runway. The engine fires up properly, a deep hum you feel rattling up your spine, and then you’re pulled forward, body pushing heavily into the soft leather of your seat.

The plane races down the runway, the grass and trees blurring into a mix of dark and light green, before you’re lifting off the tarmac and into the air, your tummy flipping a little from excitement and maybe some nerves, and…Joel’s gaze on you.

When your eyes meet his, he scans down. Your little black t-shirt, skin tight. The way your breasts rise and fall with your breathing. Down to the waist of your sweatpants, then further down your legs. You know exactly what’s going through his mind.

And, honestly…being on a private jet on your way to a free weekend in Paris, accompanied by the best sex you’ve ever had…? Goes against a couple of your core beliefs about the world, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t on your mind, too.

The flight attendants let you guys know you can unbuckle your belts now, and, like a hive mind, you both unclip them and stand.

“Was gonna go check out that, uh–”

“I’ll show you to it,” Joel cuts in, taking your bag and leading you down the aircraft. He dips his head as he walks, the cabin too small for him to stand straight. You follow like a fucking dog, trying to hide the spring in your step.

Through a door concealed to look like part of the wall is a small room with a double bed, soft white sheets untouched. There’s a little TV on the wall opposite, a small table with another comfy chair by one of the windows, and a rail for hanging up clothes. The shades over the windows are pulled almost all the way down, sunlight splintering through and lining the soft carpet.

Joel wasn’t wrong. It is cozy.

He sets your bag down on the floor and closes the door behind you. You notice he locks it.

The corners of your lips tug, your eyebrows raise. “Might be classier than my bedroom.”

He scoffs, and you turn, falling back onto the bed and kicking your shoes off.

“Alright,” you announce, flat-out on the sheets, “I’m gonna get some shut-eye.”

Joel looks surprised. Almost – offended. “Sh…You’re gonna sleep?”

“’s why you got a bed, ain’t it?”

He narrows his eyes, runs his tongue along the bottom of his teeth. Steps forward. Sticks a knee between yours. “Not exactly.”

You smile up at him. He’s pulling the jacket from his shoulders, plain white tee underneath. He looks so fucking good. The man always looks so fucking good. He tosses the jacket to the floor and bends down over you. Hands pressing deep into the bed either side of your head, torso hovering over yours. Hips just too far away for you to lift yours up to meet them.

You take hold of his wrists. “Then…show me what it’s for.”

Joel looks from your lips to your chest, then back up to your eyes, grinning like a devil. He lifts one hand and his fingers come down to play with the drawstring of your sweatpants, tugging painfully slow on them. You want to whine, but that’d be letting him win too easily.

He loosens the waist and his fingers find the hem of your tee tucked beneath.

“You gonna show me those pretty tits, baby?”

You nod, biting your lip as he peels your top from your body, your back arching, arms splaying out on the bed. Joel uncovers your chest and slips the top over your head, discarding it to the side and leaning back to take the view in.

You didn’t wear a bra today. Wanted to travel in as much comfort as possible.

One of your wiser choices.

“Fuck, darlin’…” he breathes, eyes set on your perky tits, your round, hardened nipples. His reaction sends a fleet of electricity down to your core.

“C’mere,” you whisper, taking his shirt in your fists and dragging him down against your naked torso. And then his hips are there, right against yours, and you grind up into him, feeling his bulging crotch between your legs.

Your fingers dance along the hem of his shirt and he lifts off of you, letting you tug it over his head before his chest is pressed back against yours. You part your lips and he fills your mouth with his tongue, hands in your hair, body grinding against your own. He’s pushing you further up the mattress until you’re both in the center, disturbing the sheets and shifting the cushions decorating the bed.

Joel’s hand trails down your naked stomach and under your pants, cutting past the lace of your underwear to cup your mound, middle finger daring ever lower. You moan and drag your hips forward to edge his fingers further, until they’re dipping between your folds and your body’s rolling with pleasure.

“Yeah,” Joel murmurs, “that’s it, huh? That’s what you want?”

“Uhuh,” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth, eyelashes batting in a plea for him to keep going. Keep fucking going.

His mouth dips between your jaw and your shoulder, teeth picking up your hot skin to suck a bruise while two fingers push inside of you, lifting your back from the mattress and into Joel’s rock-solid body. Some noise escapes his lips, something caught between a laugh and a groan.

“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, drawing a smile across your face.

And then your hands are messing around at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the button. Wanting him in your hands as much as he has you around his own. Needing to feel what you’re doing to him, since he’s well aware of what he’s done to you.

Joel’s hand slips gently out from under your pants and his weight lifts off of you. In the slivers of light streaming through the cabin windows, his silhouette steps back off the bed and shoves the denim down his thighs. His jeans hit the floor and as quick as he left you, he’s back pressing into you again, hard outline of his length nudging against the top of your thigh.

You slip a hand under the elastic of his underwear and take hold of his cock, while he picks up where he left off between your legs. Your lips connect, breathing laughs and pants and desperate moans into each other, hands working to push each other closer and closer…

Joel’s fingers pump in and out, curling just enough to hit your G-spot every time. His thumb’s bumping at your clit, pushing waves of pleasure with each circle. He adds a third finger when you start to gasp, the movement of your fist around his shaft becoming messy and staggered. You’re trying to focus on him, trying to get him there as fast as he’s getting you, but he’s so fucking good at it, and you’re starting to fade out of the cabin.

Your eyes roll shut; head falls back against the bed. You’re still trying to fucking jack him off, as if he’d even let himself cum in your hands before he’s been inside you. But you’re desperately trying not to give him the satisfaction of having you unfold on his hand less than ten minutes into this. Desperately trying not to give in to him and his stupid private jet.

“It’s okay, baby,” Joel whispers in your ear, pressing a delicate kiss to your hair, “you can cum. Do it for me.”

“F-uck you,” you whisper, and you cave.

Let’s put it down to the air pressure when you’re this high up. In fact, let’s just say: you’re on a plane, and you’ve never had anything remotely close to sex on a plane before, and that’s why, when your orgasm bursts through, you cum harder than you think you’ve ever done before. It’s because of how fucking insane this is.

Let’s just say.

You come to with your face buried in the crook of Joel’s neck. His chest is vibrating, Adam’s apple bobbing. You pull back and notice the dimples in his swollen cheeks, the crow’s feet by his eyes, and then…the wide smile spread across his lips.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asks through a laugh.

You curse at him again, eyes screwing shut. His hand’s still between your legs, slowly moving in and out, lulling you through the tail end of your orgasm. Your hands have deserted their original job; they’re clutching Joel’s shoulders. You don’t even remember grabbing onto him.

“Got somethin’ that’ll make you feel even better,” he breathes, and before you’re fully awake, his hands are on your hips, flipping you over. He drags your pants down your legs, discarding them to the floor beside his.

You sigh when he pulls your ass up into the air, resting your ear on your folded arms. Accepting defeat, or maybe just…letting him do what he does best.

Joel slips your panties to the side and runs his cock up and down your dripping cunt. You flinch, still sensitive, and feel him slow down.

“Gonna make you feel real good, alright?”

“Mhm,” you reply, eyes closing again as he lines up.

It sounds like a bit of a dumb thing to say. Joel makes you feel good every time his hands are on you, without question. Even that first night, in that dive bar, before he’d ever really done anything. His hands sent electricity through your body that you failed all weekend to rid yourself of. But you hear what he’s really saying.

You haven’t had each other yet without someone on the other side of the wall, waiting for one of you. It’s always been a rush, always been about that race to the finish line just to satisfy your needs, and then return to Earth as soon as you’re done.

There’s no need to rush to that finish line this time around. Nobody’s waiting. Joel can do whatever he wants, can fuck you however he likes, and have you under his hand for as long as he wants. As long as you both last.

The bed makes sense now, doesn’t it?

He pushes inside you, thick, hard, full. You gasp, face burying into the comforter, legs spreading to accommodate his size. Your fingers grasp onto the sheets, nails digging into the soft fabric as he fills you up, pulls halfway out, and rocks back in.

“Fuck, Joel,” you cry, and his hips slam into yours.

“Huh?” he asks.

“Daddy,” you correct yourself, still gasping.

“Better.”

Joel pounds into you, strong grip on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock at a punishing pace. His grunts match your whines. Your hand stretches out to grab something – anything – to hold onto, to steady yourself as your body begins to collapse.

“Daddy,” you mewl again, muffled by the cotton of the sheets, like it’s the only word coming to mind. “So – fuckin’ – good.”

“Louder, baby,” he replies, groaning when you tighten around him.

You whimper. “F-fuck, daddy.”

Joel’s fingers squeeze your hips, his pace quickens even more. “Louder.”

“They’re gonna – ah – they’re gonna hear.”

“Who?” Joel asks.

He knows damn well who. You’re only separated by a thin paneled wall. You’d be fucking surprised if the flight attendants haven’t been hearing you for the last twenty minutes.

“Baby,” Joel’s voice coos as he bends forward, sweaty chest flat against your back. His lips line with your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “They get paid not to hear.”

His hips crack into yours again once, and then halt. You cry out, the sudden feeling of him in his entirety, filling you up, pushing right up against your cervix, too much to bear. Too much to be muffled by the mattress beneath you.

“Let – them,” Joel’s hips drag back, slow, leaving you empty, “hear – you.”

He thrusts forward again, painfully, and you moan. Loud. “Ah, daddy,” you cry out again, and you swear Joel’s chest rumbles behind you with a laugh.

“That’s it, good girl. Tell ‘em how good it feels.”

You feel your mind start to slip, the cabin going with it. Your eyes roll closed, your mouth falls open. The only sound escaping your lips a whine, over and over, shaped just like the word daddy, daddy, daddy.

Joel’s forehead rests on the crown of yours, his voice a soft hum at the nape of your neck.

“See? Sound way too pretty to keep quiet, darlin’.”

He’s panting, words spilling out of his mouth between gasps and grunts. Hips are snapping at a grueling pace. You reach for his wrists again, planted in the bed either side of your head, and squeeze as if it might relieve the building tension in the pit of your stomach.

But he’s going so fast, so hard, fucking you dumb. And you can feel him start to falter, when your walls hold him snug, tightening around him as you reach your high.

He cums when you do. You feel him empty inside you as you hurtle through your own orgasm, rippling bliss all around your body. You both cry out, filling the tiny room with groans of pleasure and release together.

Your hips give, fall flat to the mattress, Joel still inside, slowly rocking back and forth, pushing his cum deeper and deeper inside you.

His elbows sink into the bed at your shoulders, caging you under his body as the remnants of your highs wash away. He’s running soft, wet kisses from your neck down the top of your spine. When your body stills, the pulsing of your cunt a mere flutter, he slips out from between your legs and pushes up off of your body.

Joel collapses alongside you atop the tangle of sheets and pillows, skin sticking, bodies thrumming with energy. You roll over to lie next to him. Chests rising and falling in unison, fingers intertwining at your sides. You’re staring at the ceiling, head tilting to rest on Joel’s shoulder, and he places a soft kiss to your hair.

You glance up to look into his brown eyes, lit by the thin rays of bursting sunlight seeping through the windows. The way the light moves across him as the plane turns, brilliant rays sweeping over the horizon and reflecting every angle of his face.

When he notices you, he dips his chin, and you prop yourself up, pressing your lips to his. Joel holds your jaw softly, thumb grazing over your cheekbone. His other hand scoops around your back, holding your body close to his.

“Sleepy,” you mutter, and he nods.

“Get some rest,” he tells you, but you’re already laying your head down on his chest.

Your heavy eyes blink the jet out of view; Joel’s hand stroking your hair sends you off to sleep.

----------

You wake under the white sheets, still wrapped up in Joel’s arms, to the sound of voices on the TV. Some comedy movie. Sounds like Adam Sandler. Joel mutes it when he notices you stirring.

“Afternoon,” he mutters, voice husky.

“Hi,” you reply softly, and his hand runs through your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Only a little while. They’re probably getting ready for lunch. You want me to head out first?”

You nod, suddenly feeling ashamed…and hungry. “Yeah. ‘n can you…make sure they don’t ask?”

“They ain’t gonna ask,” he groans, laughing as you roll off his body and let him up.

You watch as he dresses himself, toned arms pulling his tee over broad shoulders; tan legs slipping back into neat jeans. He slings his jacket over his arm and bends back down over you to let you kiss him again – slow, deep. Something of a thanks, a you’re welcome, maybe. A marker, anyway. A prelude to this weekend.

And then he slips out front. You lock the door behind him and start collecting your clothes, hopping around the cabin as you pull them on.

Before you leave, you grab a hoodie from your bag, feeling a little more exposed than you did when you first boarded. You toss it over your shoulders and open the door.

“Couple more hours,” Joel tells you as you sit opposite him, propping your ankles on his lap. His hands run over your socks, brows furrowing when he notices the pattern. “Bart Simpson?”

“Comfiest socks I own. Good plane socks.”

“Alright.”

“Go on. Make fun of ‘em.”

“I didn’t say anything. You want somethin’ to eat?”

You smirk. “Sure.”

He pours you a glass of water from the metal jug on the table between you both, and one of the attendants appears as if by magic on your right.

“Got you gluten free stuff,” Joel says as you gulp at the ice water.

You almost choke. “Seriously?”

His face twists, confused. Mirroring your astonishment. “Yeah. You think I’d let you starve?”

You almost laugh before you hear it, and realize how sweet it is. You didn’t even know Joel noticed this stuff. Didn’t think it’d be on his radar.

“Thank you,” you whisper, lifting your glass to mask the blush burning across your cheeks.

Joel nods once. Then turns to the attendant and asks for a burger, side of fries, side of onion rings. “We got sweet potato fries, Len?” he asks.

“Think so,” Len replies. “Want them instead? Or both?”

Joel thinks it over for probably two seconds, before he shrugs and says, “Both. Thanks, man.”

Len turns to you, but you’re still staring at Joel. “Unbelievable,” you mutter.

Joel holds his hands out. “I’m hungry.”

You give Len a smile. “What’s…What can I have?”

“We got gluten free flour, bread, pasta, uh…garlic bread for sides, too. And a couple desserts.”

“What the f…?” You stare at Joel. “You didn’t have to–”

“Just order, baby,” Joel says, palm facing you, stopping you from going on.

“I’ll, uh…You do fried chicken?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll have fried chicken, side of fries, and coleslaw, if you have it, please.”

Len nods curtly and heads back up front, leaving you and Joel on your own again. You finish your thought.

“What the fuck?”

He’s chuckling. “What?”

“You…This is…Nothing, you just…you blow my mind, every time.”

Joel shrugs, grinning. “Blow your back out, ‘n all.”

“Alright.” You snatch your ankles from his grasp – Bart’s toothy smirk slipping from between Joel’s fingers – and sit up straight, looking out of the window to the dazzling sky; bright blue on top and fluffy white clouds beneath.

Your food arrives shortly after and the pair of you eat in comfortable silence. Joel checks through his emails, you sit back in your seat with your headphones in. It’s nice, not having a phone to answer or Joel’s schedule to fix. Nicer, still, having him feet away from you, giving you all the attention you could possibly want at the drop of a hat.

You land in Paris at 10PM local time. Straight off the plane and into another sleek, black car, driven by a gray-haired, sharp-suited man named Denis whose hand Joel shakes before climbing in beside you. He slides into the leather seat and you fall against one another, your head on his shoulder. Partition wound up, though neither of you feel much like doing anything that’d require privacy. Your eyes are tired, heavy, you smell like eight hours’ worth of plane, and you’re basically salivating at the thought of collapsing into a huge, soft, clean bed.

Which is exactly what the pair of you do when you reach the hotel. You’re in some extravagant suite picked by Joel; you manage two glances around the dark place before he’s leading you by hand off to the bedroom, cases still parked at the front door.

And before you know it, you’re sinking into the plush sheets of a king-size bed, limbs entangled with Joel’s, city lights twinkling through the window into your sleep-glazed eyes as you drift off.

----------

Day breaks across Paris around seven in the morning. You wake with the blue glow of the sky, dusty pink on the horizon bleeding upward as the sun rises higher. When your eyes open and adjust to the light, you glance over Joel’s still sleeping body and notice the view behind him, split in half by the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower.

The curtains are still pulled back – neither of you noticed nor had the energy to shut them when you arrived. You’re both still in your clothes from yesterday, too. Joel managed to kick off his shoes, and you remember him pulling yours off before he fell into the bed next to you. You didn’t even sleep under the bedsheets.

You push yourself up off the bed, stretching your back and glancing around. This room is fucking nuts. Gold accented – gold handles, gold light switches, gold frames. Pretentious modern art decorating each wall, an upholstered headboard that almost touches the ceiling in front of you. Marble-topped nightstands with spotless silver lamps, glinting in the light.

You roll off of the bed, Bart Simpson socks landing on soft carpet, though his face has been awkwardly twisted around your ankle in your sleep. You shuffle off to a door on the left, leading down a small hallway – past some fancy ornate vase – to the living room: a wide, open space with the same floor-to-ceiling windows as the bedroom, looking out to the same view.

Two velvet couches sit opposite one another, a white marble coffee table sat between. Behind them, a dining table with eight chairs. Gleaming varnished wood. And then, through a couple more doors, a kitchenette with modern white cabinets, a coffee machine, a microwave.

Fucking. Nuts.

You hear Joel stirring in the bedroom and wander back through, dazed with sleep and amazement at this place. He’s rubbing his eyes when you walk in and spring down on top of him on the bed.

“Mornin’,” he grumbles, voice thick and husky. His hands fall onto your thighs, sat either side of his waist, and his eyes flutter open. “You’re energetic.”

“Have you fucking seen this place?”

“I have. Stay here every year.”

You press further into him, feeling a swell in his jeans and doing your best to ignore it.

“Can we go explore?”

“Outside?”

You nod eagerly, despite the way his face screws up.

“Baby,” he sighs, “I’m still in my damn jeans.”

“So, go shower. Get dressed.”

He’s not done protesting. “We travelled for, like, nine hours straight yesterday.”

“’n now we’re here and we ain’t here long, so let’s go do something. C’mon.”

You lace your fingers through Joel’s and pull him up toward you, sitting in his lap on the bed. He buries his face in your chest, mumbling something incoherent into the cotton of your shirt.

You giggle. “Huh? Can’t hear you.”

Joel pulls back with a sigh and rolls his eyes dramatically. “Alright,” he says, “go get ready.”

You leap off of him with a quiet squeal of glee.

As you pace around the suite, dragging your case into the bedroom, fishing some clean clothes and your toothbrush out, practically skipping into the marble-tiled shower room, Joel lays back in bed watching your every move. Smiling, eyebrows lifting with encouragement anytime you look over to him. Head resting back in the crook of his arm, sleepy eyes taking in all of your excitement.

You’re rinsing shampoo out of your hair when he slides into the shower behind you, a quick kiss to your shoulder.

“No sex,” you tell him with a pointed finger, squeezing the lemon scented gel into the palm of your hand.

“No, ma’am,” he says with a smirk, dipping his head to let you lather up the suds in his salt and pepper hair. “So, where we goin’?”

You shrug. “Wherever. Lots to do in Paris.”

“Wanna get you somethin’ nice,” he says, eyes screwed shut as he runs his head under the flow of water, “a thanks for comin’ with me.”

“I think maybe the private jet, the hotel room, plus the free trip in itself is thanks enough, Joel.”

But Joel disagrees. Heartily, apparently.

He takes your hand and helps you out of the car on a tree-lined street, tall cream buildings on either side. It looks like a movie set. You’re following Joel’s lead, spending more time craning your neck to look up at the huge, ornate windows guarded by black balconettes while he guides you across cobblestone toward the smoothly paved sidewalk.

You’re not even paying attention to where he’s taking you until you’re stood in the middle of a glistening store, plush rug under your feet, lavish chairs in the center of the room, a rainbow of fashion surrounding you.

“What…? No, Joel.”

“Hm?” he asks, eyes scanning the room. He takes a step, and you tug on his arm.

“I can’t fucking afford Gucci,” you whisper, pulling his body back against yours.

He hands you a bemused smile, eyebrows low, corners of his lips pulled. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Your arm falls limp and he drags you through the store, past mannequins in patterned gowns and silk shirts, past shelves of obnoxiously huge purses and accessories gleaming in the spotlights from above.

Your fingers stay locked around Joel’s hand, your head swiveling so much you worry it might fall off, looking from the vibrant floral wallpaper down to the spotless tiled floor, glancing politely at attendants and then dipping your head and wandering by them behind Joel.

“See anything?” he asks, turning to you at the opposite end of the store.

It’s ridiculous. This entire trip…is ridiculous, and you’ve only been here twelve hours. Following around at Joel’s heels like a puppy, watching as he clicks his fingers – no, before he even gets the chance to click his fingers – and everything and anything either of you could dream up just…happens. Right in front of you.

He won’t let up. You know him. If you tried to pull him back outside onto the street, he’d buy you something for the hell of it.

You know him. So, you decide to use that to your advantage.

“Gucci…I dunno…” you muse, squinting at him.

“Not your thing?” he asks, and he seems curious, but – you know him. You know that behind that polite mask is a smirk thick enough to make your knees wobble. He knows what you’re doing. “Where to, angel?”

You lead him out of the store. Feel his shadow behind you, watching as you thank the doorman and take a left around the corner, passing under the shade of the gently rustling trees. Arm in arm, you arrive before a huge archway, pristine windows surrounding the door to…

“Dolce & Gabbana…” Joel looks up at the stone writing atop the arch. “Alright. Classy girl.”

You giggle, pulling him past the wrought-iron fence and inside.

It’s sleeker, moodier. Less in your face. Suits you a bit better, though you can’t quite swallow back the guilt that sticks in your throat as you saunter around, Joel right behind you. It catches you when an assistant touches your arm, snapping you out of your daze, and asks if you need anything.

“No, thank you,” you reply, mirroring her smile. “Thank you.”

She nods and floats off.

Joel’s frame shells around yours, dipping his jaw to lean against your shoulder. “What about that one?” His eyes flit up to a mannequin just past a lit table of purses.

“The black one?”

“Mhm.”

“You like that?”

He repeats, a little more exaggerated: “Mhm.”

You shrug. “I do look good in black.”

“Look better in nothin’.” Joel steps forward and takes the tag between two delicate fingers, deliberately hiding it from you. He turns back, lifts his eyebrows in question. “Buy you it if you promise to wear it tonight.”

You smile. This man knows how to barter. And you take no convincing at all.

“Alright,” you accept, “deal.”

----------

Three hours later, you’re strolling down another cobbled street with an ice cream in your hand. And not much else, by the way. Joel’s taken all the shopping bags back to the hotel. He slapped your hand away when you tried to lift one of them from his clutches.

The wind sifts gently through your hair, cooling your face and neck, toying with the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing. It flutters the French flags overhead, red, white and blue blowing in the breeze. Cars roll by, engines humming as they weave in and out between one another, horns calling out in the distance.

Joel hadn’t let you come up to the counter to pay with him, had insisted you stay right where you were standing, and when he finished up and laced his fingers through yours, it was like a surge of energy had shot through him.

He led you out of the store and into another, and another, and another…until his hands were wrapped around, what, six bags? All carrying different components of your outfit for tonight.

And then he’d noticed the time – unlocked his phone with a curse under his breath, and kissed your temple. Midday. He was meeting Jean-Marc in an hour.

“You wanna come back with me? Chill at the hotel?” he’d asked, dialing his chauffeur’s number.

“I’m good,” you said, smiling sweetly as he squeezed your shoulder. Then, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you his card.

“’case you see anything else you want.”

“Joel,” you protested, but he’d shut you up by clicking his teeth and walking off, leaving you to follow after him, shamelessly beaming.

He’d apologized another three times before Denis had pulled up, then once more as he loaded the trunk with your bags.

“See you later. Enjoy your meeting,” you teased, laughing at the way his face twisted into a grimace as the car rolled off.

It’d been a pretty nice afternoon. You’d dipped into a couple more stores – though, without Joel to impress, the low-cut dresses and short miniskirts were somewhat less exciting.

That is, until you passed by a lingerie store. You stood outside for a second, peering by your reflection in the window to study what lay behind. Suddenly lace and satin – and the idea of Joel seeing you in them – seemed a lot more enticing.

You’d pieced together an entire getup: bra, panties, garter belt, even a pair of stockings, and a silk robe to go over the top. You handed over Joel’s card, ignoring the way your cheeks began to heat and focusing instead on how smug you felt, and skipped out of the store, bag in hand.

You’d called Denis five minutes ago to ask for a ride back to the hotel. He called you Madame, he said Nonono every time you apologized for bothering him again, and he promised he’d be there in less than ten minutes.

You pace back and forth along the curb, waiting for the shiny black Maybach to pull up. You’ve checked your phone, like, five times already, kinda hoping there’ll be a text from Joel. You swing the bag between your fingers.

A door swings open behind you, giggles filter out into the street, and you turn to see a couple bounding out of a jewelers, hand in hand. She flicks her left wrist up, tilts it in the sun. It’s hard to ignore the light bouncing off of her ring finger. You feel nauseous at the sight.

Suddenly the Parisian street dissolves, and what sweeps over in replacement is a long, empty lawn, maple trees swaying menacingly in the distance. There’s a blur of bright blue sky, sunrays bursting across your vision. Your hand comes up to shield your eyes, and there he is. There he was.

He was on the grass. You told him to stand up; his suit trousers would be stained green. He did it anyway. Trembling hands, expectant stare. You stuttered and stammered your way through a sentence fueled by shock and horror and…resentment.

And then you did it anyway, too.

The crackle of tires coming to a stop on the road in front drags your fraught gaze from the couple, now strutting off down the avenue. You reach for the door handle, but Denis is already out of the car and leaning down, hand on your back as you duck into the backseat.

----------

taglist: @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @@isimpforfictionalmen @lizzie-cakes @sarahhxx03 @tobuildahomeinthewoods @whatsliferightnow @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

1K notes · View notes

bubuslutty · 6 months

Text

alt!gf x comics nerd!könig

Imagine an awkward comic book nerd König with an alt!gf way out of his league (according to him).

He works part time at a comic book store when he first meets her, he's in a corner arranging comics and manga when she walks in and his eyes widen behind his messy ginger long hair.

She's the prettiest girl he's ever fucking seen in his life and he can't take his eyes off of her. And so do the rest of the clients and workers in the shop.

She's wearing a tiny black baby tee with Miles Morales' Spider Logo on its front, the tee was tight and it looked like she didn't wear anything underneath it, and it was very short, that if she kept stretching her arms above her head too many times to reach for comics in the higher shelves, her shirt is bound to ride up to expose her nipples. Her stomach all down to a few inches below her belly button were naked, and a pair of tiny jean shorts hugged her waist and ass.

Then there was the jewelry, the chains, the arm warmers, gloves, leg warmers, mismatched socks with a pair of white and red Jordans, the headphones, hair clips and cute earrings that tied her outfit together.

She looked like a doll, like those pretty girls you'd see on Pinterest (König doesn't know that, though, bold of you to assume he uses Pinterest).

And König? Well, he was wearing a green t-shirt with the store's logo on the back and front, with a white long sleeved shirt under it, paired with a pair of loose ripped jeans and we'll worn white trainers. And finally, a black mask covering the lower half of his face.

She walked straight to the Marvel shelf, looking around with her hands crossed over her chest while humming until she gasped and got her hands on a comic with Spiderman 2099 plastered on the cover.

König tried his best to stop staring like a creep but she was just so hypnotising, he wanted to keep looking at her, maybe ask her name, what she likes to read–

Don't get ahead of yourself, König, have you seen her and seen yourself?

König's shoulders slumped as he watched her flip through the comic with a smile on her glossy lips, and his heart jumped when she met his eyes.

Shit.

König internally panicked and turned his head towards the shelf he was organizing and adding in new comics to be sold while his heart beat quickly in his chest. He gulped and his hand trembled when he heard shuffling and footsteps getting louder towards him over the sound of some random anime opening from the speakers in the shop.

"Excuse me?"

König tried not to flinch and slowly turned around and looked down at the owner of the voice, a bead of sweat running down the side of his face when he was face to face with the same girl he was gawking at.

"Yes?" König replied, masking his nervousness with a monotone voice.

"Can you get me a comic from the top shelf? I can't reach.." She asked, looking him over not so subtly and tilted her head to the side, adding a small, "Please?" at the end of her sentence.

"Where?" König asked and her eyes lit up. She turned around and led him straight to the shelf and told him the comic she was after as König easily reached for it and handed it over.

"Thank you," She smiled and took the comic from his bigger hand, their hands brushing as he kept watching her through his hair.

"Do you read marvel comics?" She asked and König was surprised, what is she doing?

Making conversation with him?

But girls usually got intimidated by his build and his personality.

König cleared his throat and shoved both of his hands in the pockets of his loose ripped jeans, "Sometimes."

"Do you have a character you like reading about? You don't have to answer if you have work to do, by the way! I'm just curious and want to read more comics about different characters!" She said, toying with the Lego spiderman keychain hanging off her belt hoop, pulling her shorts a bit lower and König looked away when more of her lacey red panties were visible.

"No it's alright. I have time. I like reading about Venom and Moon Knight. And you? Who do you like reading about?..." König answered, his voice not wavering, not even once even if he was screaming in his head.

He hopes he won't scare her away due to the lack of emotion and interest in his voice, but he was internally nervous and that's the only way he knows how to hide it.

But it seemed like the pretty girl wasn't phased nor intimidated by König's tone of voice, or how he literally covered her in his shadow.

"I really like Moon Knight! And Venom too! But obviously, Miles Morales' Spiderman is my favourite…" She excitedly told him and pointed at her chest, where Miles' graffiti Logo was.

"What's your name, by the way?" She quickly asked, and König was a bit overwhelmed.

"König." He answered without thinking and blinking, staring at her with his pale blue eyes.

"Hey, König." She giggled and told him her name as she hugged the comics to her chest.

König didn't know what to say except give her an awkward nod.

"Nice to meet you. I'll go pay for these. And uh, thanks for the help." She said, biting her lower lip and fluttering her pretty eyelashes at him.

"No worries." He said and stepped aside so she could make her way to the till.

König was left buzzing and slightly breathless, he blinked and turned around to face a shelf with Batman runs to compose himself while she paid for her comics. Then he felt a small tap on his back and turned around.

"Sorry I just wanted to give you this." She said while holding a hair band in her hand.

König stared down at her hand without saying anything then back up at her face.

"It's for your hair…" She said in a small voice and König didn't say anything, just stared at her.

Then she coughed, "I just thought– I'm so sorry for overstepping, I'll go now."

König moved without thinking and held her wrist, making her eyes widen like a deer caught in the headlight.

"Thanks." He said and took the hairband, making quick work of tying his hair in a manbun, and now she could see more of his face, his pale eyes, eyebrows, freckles and small scars.

She smiled a bit and gave him a nod, "Bye, now."

"Bye." König said, smiling behind his mask.

485 notes · View notes

massachusetts-official · 27 days

Note

my gf and i argue all the time about which t line is better im an orange line girlie but she for some reason insists the green line is better. please help me talk some sense into her lol

I'm sorry OP, but the orange line is the heart of simplicity on the T. It's a single path with no variation. Even the red line has at least one split. Don't get me wrong, there is beauty in simplicity, but simplicity is not the Massachusetts way. The green line has some chutzpah. It has four branching paths, and union square to boot. That's the spirit of Boston right there, pain and confusion in your transportation choice. However, you are both wrong. The silver line is where it's at. That thing is such a mess it has to be numbered to differentiate it from itself. There are loops, connections to all four other lines in the weirdest places. You get the worst of Boston roads and the worst the t has to offer all in one package.

#massachusetts #ask #mbta #public transportation #orange line #green line #silver line #red line

348 notes · View notes

sage-green-matcha · 8 months

Text

KILL FOR YOU - ETHAN LANDRY 🔪

having a little fun with Ethan after your murder spree <3

MINORS DNI!

Content includes: Smut! P in V sex, blowjob, a bit of overstim! Mentions of blood, murder, gf!Reader, gf!Ethan

A/n: I love writing psychopath reader 💪

It was off-putting, the way you hummed as you cleaned the pool of blood below you. Ethan paced back and forth as you scrubbed, trying to process what you had just done.

"Please stop spreading the blood" He left prints of red as he walked, making you have to clean up an even bigger mess.

"Sorry..." He felt his chest tighten as he listened to your calm words. It's like you had done this thousands of times before. You were so calm, so confident.

"You said you wanted me to help you with this, E" You mumbled, collecting more water into your bloody sponge.

"Do you regret it?" You asked so nicely, looking up at him with your soft, doughy eyes.

"No...I don't know" His eyebrows furrowed and you smiled, going back to cleaning.

"Richie is proud of you, you know that...right?"

To make Richie proud was all he ever wanted. Sure his father was some half-ass cop and he wanted to make him proud too. But to make Richie like him was all he ever wanted. He always looked up to him, and when he saw what he did in Woodsbooroe he knew he had to do the same.

You know, to carry the legacy.

But it wasn't him who killed the group of friends. It was you.

You knew Ethan's plan would let you experience some of your deepest desires.

The rush of killing was like no other. You felt your body get hot with each stab, every splash of blood that hit your face made you excited.

Ethan watched in horror, he thought he would enjoy watching his brother's murderers get killed. But it was the total opposite.

His skin crawled and he cringed each time the blade made contact with skin. He thought about telling you to stop, telling you he wanted to call off the plan. But it had fallen too deep, there was no going back.

"I know" he gulped and you watched as he slipped his shoes off, carefully to make sure you wouldn’t get upset.

He sat on the couch as you finished cleaning, resting his head back while trying to think.

Your eyes watched Ethan carefully, noticing how tense he was. Maybe it was because of the heavy bodies he had just dragged, or he was just stressed about what to do next.

Whatever it was, you knew you could help him.

You sat down on the sparkling wood floor. The one that was just covered in blood. But you didn't make that connection, you were too focused on Ethan.

You traced small circles on his knee, making Ethan look down at you with intimidation in his eyes.

He wasn't sure how to feel. You looked so cute, so innocent. But what you had just done made him question that.

"Talk to me" Your face was squished up against the soft cushion, your finger still moving up and down his leg.

He hesitated as he went to speak, opening his mouth before quickly closing it. "Was this the right thing to do?"

You batted your eyelashes. You were obviously annoyed. He had just had you kill 4 people...for nothing? But you didn't say that you didn't say anything. Instead, you comforted him.

"It was the best option, Ethan. The only option"

"I know, I'm just..." He bit down hard on his lip, scared to admit how he was feeling.

"I'm just confused, I thought if they were dead I would feel better...but I feel the same"

"Let me help you feel better"

The feeling in the room changed. The awkward tension became sexual and it flowed perfectly throughout the quiet room.

He wasn't sure if now was the time for something like this. But yet again, he would never say no to you. You were just trying to help him. And maybe this was just what he needed.

His cheeks were flushed pink as he nodded, giving you the green light.

Usually, you went slow with him. Giving him a handjob till you stuck his cum covered tip in your drooling mouth.

But this time you didn't have patience for any of that, and neither did Ethan.

You sat yourself between his legs, carefully undoing his belt before reaching into his boxers.

Ethan's heart raced, his tummy filled with butterflies as your hand wrapped around his warm cock.

You almost forgot how perfectly he fit in the palm of your hand, slowly pumping his hard shaft.

He shivered as you spit into your hand, a lewd moan falling from his mouth while you watched with amusement.

Precum leaked from his tip, matching the shiny spit on his cock. With every stroke you felt his veins engrave into your hand, memorizing them.

Ethan was so caught up in his own pleasure that he didn't notice you getting closer. When you paused he let out a small whimper, missing your touch.

But he wouldn't complain again, not when your lips were wrapped around him. Your tongue swirled on his tip, kissing and sucking with your entire mouth.

Ethan basically levitated, his hips twitching forward while his eyes were closed tightly.

He pushed himself deeper into your mouth, a small gag coming from your throat.

The sound made him reach for more, thrusting himself into your neck desperately.

"Shit y/n, fuckfuckfuck" Whimpers fell from your lips while tears escaped your eyes. He barely fluttered his eyes open to see you choking on his cock, the sight being one he had imagined hundreds of times before.

He felt a tight feeling in his stomach, his cock twitching in your mouth before you pulled away.

"Why...why'd you stop?" His chest rose up and down with each heavy breath. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his eyes were open just enough to see you unbutton your jeans.

You sat yourself on top of his lap, moving your panties to the side before sliding his length up and down your slit.

You shivered at the feeling, your juices mixing into each other.

Ethan placed his hand on your waist, holding back whimpers and moans while you held onto his cock.

It wasn't like Ethan to get impatient, he was always good for you. But he was desperate, pushing your hips down with a harsh motion.

You let out a small gasp, feeling his veiny cock fill you up. He stretched you out so well, making you hold onto his shoulders.

Before you moved you pushed yourself all the way down, taking every inch of him. You squeezed him tightly, whimpering at the feeling of your hole being fully stretched out.

Gently you rolled your hips, biting your lip to hide any noises. Ethan’s eyes were closed tightly, his mouth wide open while small moans fell from his lips.

The sound of skin slapping filled the room, your head falling onto his shoulder.

You could hear his muffled whines above you, his hands grabbing all over your thighs and ass.

“Shit, Eth. Making me feel so good” You could barely speak as you felt him inside of you, the feeling making you melt. You were never verbal during sex, but Ethan could get used to it.

He trusted his hips forward, his tip making contact with your G spot. Mumbled moans fell from your lips as sweat formed on your forehead.

“Y/n…” A quiet groan fell from his lips, stopped by your teeth digging into his clothed shoulder.

You pushed your hand under his shirt, running it on his toned chest. “Take it off”

You continued to bounce as he slipped it off, Ethan messily throwing it to the side.

Your nails scratched at his chest, your mumbled moans against his skin.

“M close” Ethan's grip got tighter, the pain from your nails shooting straight to his cock. “Cum in me”

All you wanted was to feel Ethan, to hold him close and make him feel better. You needed all of him.

He trembled at your words, his nails digging into your waist. Marks formed in your skin, deep and red but the pain felt so good.

Your face smushed against his chest as his legs started to shake. His cock twitched inside of you, the feeling of hot cum shooting into your pussy.

He tried to breathe but you were desperate for your release, overstimulating Ethan. Your legs began to shake and you melted into him once again, gasps falling messily out of your mouth.

You felt the tie in your stomach snap, legs still shaking as cum dripped out of your hole.

You pulled him into a messy kiss, running your hands through his hair. You weren’t one to express how you felt, but you needed to tell him. It overpowered everything that had just happened and you wanted him to know.

“I love you Eth, I’d kill for you again and again”

731 notes · View notes

driaswrld · 6 months

Text

one night only! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 2.1k

summary : fem!reader goes to a club with shoko to be free from her scary guard dog besties, satoru and suguru show up anyway, just a bunch of intimacy really. maybe one lil suggestive part w satoru?? mention of wlw shoko and possible insinuation of stoner geto lmao

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i headcanon poly satosugu as often toeing the line between platonic love and romantic love bcus these three idiots rlly can't tell the diff sometimes. also shoko is gay and is my gf don't @ me. also this is ooc of how satoru and suguru would be at a club cs lets be fr satoru would be an emotional drunken mess while suguru is in the bathroom smoking or smth

other : im having so many teenage romance thoughts ab poly satosugu. also this was kinda inspired by a poly marauders fic i read agesss ago

current casette : i was never there - the weeknd. me and your mama - childish gambino.

You can feel the bass of the music in your throat, your heartbeat racing to catch up with it.

Parties like these only had one common thread : brainless, brainless fun.

“That one over there,” Shoko murmurs against your ear as discreetly as she can, but just as loud as for you to hear her over the thumping music inside the club. Your gaze moves from the sequin strap across Shoko’s shoulder and over to a girl across the way, a redhead, leaning against the bar and knocking back an expensive looking drink. “She’s pretty.” You turn your head to Shoko’s ear.

Satoru and Suguru have been… hovering these past few weeks.

You love them, truly, the bestest best friends anyone could ask for. But two popular conventionally attractive men by your side at all times? It does put a damper on your love life. Shoko would be able to understand your point of view — if she wasn’t playing for the other team at least.

The redhead looks over her shoulder out at the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, the dark blue dress she has on really accentuates her figure — among other things. “You should go tal–” Before you can finish, Shoko’s mouth is agape, eyes fixed on the girl, and being the wingwoman that you are, you shove her forward a little. “Talk to her.”

“You sure?” Shoko wobbles forward, tipsy but sober enough to take a pretty girl home. The neon lights inside the club flash pink and blue then red and green then pink and—

“I don’t wanna abandon you, name.” You only laugh at Shoko, giving her two firm thumbs up, nudging her forward again, and still, she stands there contemplating. That is, until the redhead turns around and locks eyes with Shoko.

Oh, she’s far gone already.

“Don’t leave my peripheral.” Shoko kisses the side of your cheek and begins to saunter off, just as the song playing in the club changes to a softer, more sensual song.

There’s something about parties. Something that gives you the uneasy feeling two specific people could pop up at any time – two people you’re trying very hard to make clear to that you’re your own woman.

What makes a grown man wanna cry?

You slide back to the spot on the dancefloor you and Shoko shared moments ago, and with a sigh of near relief, you let the music transcend you to a different realm. Your body sways among the masses, a tinge of alcohol probably clouding your judgement because on any other occasion you’d find dancing in public embarrassing—

When it’s time, when it’s time, when it’s time, it won’t matter

There’s a sense of complete euphoria that washes over you, and before you know it, a slender arm snakes around your waist. And despite your better judgement, you know who it is before you look over your shoulder.

It’s an eerily intimate thing, feeling the chill of the six eyes raking over you.

You’re sure Suguru must be the only other person to feel how it feels, the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, hair standing on end. But not in fear. In something else entirely—

“You’re so pretty.” Satoru whispers against the edge of your ear. He doesn’t sound drunk. At the very least he barely sounds tipsy, just a small slur of speech in between, and you look over your shoulder at him.

“Prettier than you?” You stop moving and let out a laugh, and he goes brainless. Crystalline orbs stare down at you, and he pulls your body flush against him, pressing his body into yours from behind.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and your body sways, resuming with the rhythm of the blaring music. A whisper of the lyrics leaves his mouth, and you nearly forget how he knows the song — must’ve been in one of Suguru’s playlists. One of those playlists he keeps.

“Satoru—” you’re about to scold him, maybe tell him this is a thin line, one you’ve been toeing for too long.

Satoru brings his other arm around your waist, both his hands meeting in accord atop the flesh of your stomach. He waits for a beat, waits for you to tell him no, but it never comes.

I’m on the edge of something breaking

His head dips to your height, his hair tickles the back of your neck. You can feel the heat from his lips on your skin as he hums along to the lyrics. “Just feel it for a little...” He whispers.

Even in his tipsy but not-so-tipsy state, he knows exactly what he's doing. You think, maybe he’s always known. At least in body but not in mind.

If I keep going I won’t make it

A sigh escapes your lips, something akin to a breath of relief, like a weight lifts off your shoulders.

Satoru’s body grinds forward onto you, and your head tilts back onto his chest, a mouthful of lyrics leaving your mouth in a gasp. “Feels good, yeah?” He grins down at you, pleased, his voice a bit off-key in a more Satoru-like fashion.

“Didn’t know you knew the song,” the words leave your lips as you both lock eyes. He rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh of your shoulder playfully.

“Suguru plays it all the time—” He replies, then continues to hum along with the song, his voice barely sounding like his own. “It’s too sexy to not know.”

There’s a sense of comfort in not knowing the depth of what you feel in this moment.

Satoru spins you around to face him, and the breath leaves your lungs. And the moment in between knowing what your relationship is and not knowing all but fades to black.

And with the way he looks into your eyes, and leans forward, you think he just might break the line two.

And it’s all because of you—

The song fades out, to a more upbeat one, and Satoru’s hands fall limp at his sides. Suddenly, you remember how to breathe. And you swallow the lump in your throat, all while he gives you the signature goofy grin you’ve come to cherish.

You turn your head to look across the mini crowd, and Shoko is still there, one arm slung around the redhead as they both knock back shots.

Temporary. It’s no big deal, you and Satoru were just tipsy.

But that sense of relief is short-lived.

Embarrassingly so.

“Boo.” A sharp exhale leaves your lips as soon as you turn your head, and instead of Satoru staring down at you, your view is blocked by Suguru.

You look at him like a lost child, and he rears his head away to laugh at you. “Don’t look so scared, name.” He smirks, slyly, like Suguru always does when he’s taunting.

“You dumbass—” You breathe, a hand colliding with the edge of his shoulder in a soft shove and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the sight before him.

Then, Suguru’s fingers wrap around your wrist, two, then four then he’s tugging you forward, straight into him and Satoru. “Don’t be so mean to me, you’ll break my heart.” He says it so condescendingly, with such a smile that makes your heart leap at your current predicament.

Satoru really wasn’t done. He just brought in reinforcements.

“As if—” You grumble, and the lights dim for a second before flashing a neon purple. And that’s all the time Satoru and Suguru need.

“—I have a heart?” Suguru towers over you, and he bends his knees just a little, resting his chin against your shoulder so you can hear him. “Or as if you could break it?”

You think Suguru’s been smoking. The warmth of his breath against your bare skin makes you shiver a little. You think you feel a little dizzy just from looking at him.

The way his eyes are downcast, eyelids heavy, like he’s bordering on the precipice of eternal sleep or the best dream he’s ever had, one he doesn't want to wake from.

He looks at you like you're the latter rather than the former.

Satoru swings his hand forward, interlocking his fingers with yours, pale slender digits finding purchase between yours as he moves to your side. “As if to both.” He rolls his eyes, and Suguru lets out a soft whistle, “You’re so cold, Satoru.”

The song playing begins to fade out, and Suguru takes advantage of the few seconds before the song switches, that small gap of silence, and he whispers, “Dance with us..?”

“Duh.” You grab ahold of Suguru’s hand with your free one, all while Satoru’s grip on your other hand tightens just a little. “Who else would I dance with?”

These things are no secret, never have been and never will be. And you have a funny feeling you know why your love life remains so stagnant.

How does the old age thing go? Never let your girl have a boy bestfriend. Or worse, two.

The three of you saunter to the middle of the dancefloor, the neon lights flashing shades of blue.

And if you didn’t know better, you’d say whoever the DJ is, they’ve got a sick sense of humor.

Because they manage to play the most romantically erotic song you could ever hear in a club setting. Ironically, a song you recognize from your playlist — no doubt you learned it from one of Suguru’s tracklists. A very extensive one titled with a leaf emoji.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

Suguru’s arm moves to wrap around your waist from in front, and he tugs you close as the soft tempo reverberates through the room. He shrugs some of his hair off his shoulder, dark eyes finding yours and he doesn’t dare look away for a second.

Suguru must think you're a pipe dream. That you’ll disappear if he blinks.

Your bodies rock from side to side and Satoru doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he slides behind you, following the rhythm you and Suguru have set in tune, raising your intertwined hands to his lips, and for a moment he uses them as a makeshift microphone to sing—

La-la-la-la-la

Suguru grins and he presses his chin atop your head, his other arm coming around to hug you close to his chest, while Satoru meets you both halfway, and it’s really just a sandwich swaying side to side with you in the middle.

I’m in love when we are smoking that—

What initially started off as something so simple, you coming to a club with Shoko wanting to finally get laid since your best friends managed to scare all the guys off — has turned into something so soft, so intimate.

There are never many words, never much explanation when you’re with Satoru and Suguru.

And it’s clear none of the three of you know what this is or where you stand. But for now, that’s okay.

La-la-la-la-la

“You okay?” Suguru dips his head to mumble into your ear, and you nod, words failing you.

In truth, you’ve never felt so soft, so safe yet so… vulnerable. But that’s also okay.

Satoru cranes his neck and leans his body over yours to look between you and Suguru, having not heard a thing. “You two okay?”

And you laugh. Suguru does too.

Suguru’s arms around you keeps you grounded against him, and Satoru’s weight against your back keeps you firm between them. “If you need us to stop… if you need a drink I can—” Suguru tries, but you cut him off with a soft pat to his shoulder.

“Don’t stop,” you mimic Satoru’s words from earlier as your own into Suguru’s chest and he melts. “Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah.” You affirm, and he nods, his chin going back to rest atop your head. And you wrap a free arm around Suguru’s middle, the other still softly interlaced with Satoru’s at your side. “M’ happy here.”

“In the club?” Suguru asks, albeit a little louder so you can hear him an amused smile slipping onto his features. “No, just—” Your words fail you. But this, there can’t be any intent without feeling, true unbiased feeling.

And you feel it, coursing through you in soft waves for them.

That unbiased wavy feeling, almost like you’re floating. That feeling for them. Though you don’t quite know what to call it yet.

“Here,” you mumble and a smile stretches onto your face. “With you, and Satoru too.”

Suguru stops swaying a bit, and at the change in movement Satoru stops too, peering over your shoulder to see what’s happening.

But Suguru only grins a little. “I’m happy too,” he says. Then he glances at Satoru, and Satoru glances to you. “I guess if you two are so happy, then me too.” Satoru chuckles.

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen fic

756 notes · View notes

marlenesluv · 7 months

Note

hii! could you do a max smau where his gf takes him to nyc for christmas, but he doesht usually like christmas, but this time he loves it

Christmas Is Better With You. (MV)

hi!! aww, bye, this is so cute🥹 i can 110% do this! i’m a sucker for a cute max smau. he gets way too much hate, he’s just a sweetheart, ugh.

pairing: max verstappen x fem!nyc born!reader

fc: ruby lyn (one of my fav instagramers who actually lives in ny!)

warnings: none!

masterlist here -> masterlist link

^ check my list for all posts! ^

your instagram story:

december 19th at 10:42pm

seen by: maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 845,024 others

_______________________________________________

liked by: lilymhe, maxverstappen1, and 723,109 others

y/n.user: first day of turning max from the grinch, to buddy the elf 🎄❤️

view comments…

maxverstappen1: i am not the grinch

↳ y/n.user: babe….

↳ maxverstappen1: just bc i don’t like christmas, doesn’t mean i’m the grinch

↳ y/n.user: that’s exactly what the grinch would say

supermaxfan1: max cooks??

↳ y/nfp: y/n has said his cooking has gotten better with her help LMAOO

user6: girlie, i don’t think you will be successful..

↳ user1: y/n is very determined. she’ll crack him

alex_albon: good luck!! you’ll need it

↳ y/n.user: thanks, alex!

↳ maxverstappen1: wowowow. thanks alex🙄

f1wags: our wag takes on a challenge this christmas

yourbsf: have fun babes!!

*liked by creator*

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, christianhorner, and 792,499 others

maxverstappen1: i guess nyc has good food and pretty decorations (and i’m with the best tour guide, my gf, if you can’t figure it out)

view comments…

y/n.user: aww, i really am the best tour guide, arent i?

↳ maxverstappen1: of course

user5: y/n is looking absolutely stunningggg

↳ user2: nyc makes her glow bc it’s her home fr

user0: she’s wearing ferrari colors?

↳ ferrarifans: oh pls. christmas is red and green. plus, there’s red in REDbull😭 ffs💀

y/nseditpage: she’s looking sooo beautiful

maxandy/nfp: need me a max fr🙄

user7: my fav couple, deadass

ferrarifriends: okay. we get it. you guys are in love. gag me (i’m so lonely pls)

francisca.cgomes: she’s a stunnnnaaaaaa

↳ y/n.user: kikaaaa🥹🫶

↳ francisca.cgomes: 🫶🫶

_______________________________________________

your instagram story:

seen by: maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 789,129 others

_______________________________________________

liked by: y/n.user, charles_leclerc, and 881,194 others

maxverstappen1: christmas is, in fact, better in nyc with your girlfriend

view comments….

y/n.user: yayaya my personal buddy the elf!

↳ maxverstappen1: only for you, though

user5: SOBBING THEY ARE SO CUTE

danielricciardo: hes so whipped

↳ y/n.user: as he should be. i’m whipped for him

↳ danielricciardo: so true

maxiel4life: i may be a maxiel fan, but i’m a y/niel lover

user9: the market in nyc on christmas day is soo real

changeyourcar: mmk best couple, slayyy

paddockgirlie: the home alone movie on the projector?? this is so cute

landonorris: i want a nyc christmas, wth??

↳ y/n.user: next year, max wants the whole grid to come over🤞 soooo hehe

↳ oscarpiastri: omg i’m coming

papayafp: a nyc grid christmas next year??? sign me tf upppp

lewishamilton: y/n’s apartment looks so nice!

↳ y/n.user: thank you, lew!!

_______________________________________________

seen by: maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 801,277 others

reply from @danielricciardo :

↳ he could never love my gifts too much, i’m an amazing gift giver ☺️

replying to @danielricciardo from @y/n.user :

↳ whatever 🥲🙄

_______________________________________________

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

#formula 1 #f1 #formula one #max verstappen fic #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #f1 max verstappen #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen smau #f1 smau #mv1 #mv33 #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader

446 notes · View notes

sturnioloshacker · 7 months

Text

midnight guardian - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by anon!

summary: vinnie reacts to his gf walking alone at night after a party

being the strong-willed and independent woman she is, y/n believed in her ability to handle any situation. her boyfriend vinnie, on the other hand, was a caring and overprotective boyfriend who worried about y/n’s safety at all times. knowing that she’s at a friend’s birthday bash and insisted on walking home alone had vinnie stressing. as the time hit 1am, y/n made her way around the house to say her goodbyes and started her walk back to vinnie’s house. the party had taken place in a neighbourhood just a few blocks away, where the streetlights were known to be dimly lit. balancing her heels and clutching her purse tightly, she confidently embarked on her journey.

meanwhile, vinnie was anxiously pacing back and forth at home. he had been glued to his phone, constantly checking for any messages from his girl. every sound outside made his heart skip a beat. unable to control his worry any longer, he grabbed his coat and car keys, knowing he needed to be by her side. the car slowly makes it way around every corner and down every street, observing the road in front of him for a glimpse of y/n. making a right turn, he finally finds y/n. y/n’s head turns to face the car that has been following her, only to notice it’s vinnie.

“baby? what are you doing?”

“it’s 1:30 in the morning and you’re walking out here alone!”

“vinnie, there’s only one more block before i reach yours, just let me walk the rest of the way!”

“wrong. It’s two blocks. now get in the car”

“vin-“

“don't vinnie me. get in the car, please. i don’t want you getting hurt or getting into trouble”

with a sigh, y/n gets into the passenger seat. facing the window, y/n watches the lights go red as vinnie comes to a stop. vinnie turns to look at the girl next to him, grabbing her hand and softly squeezing it to get her attention. making eye contact, y/n notices the boy’s glossy eyes. had he been crying? the light goes green as vinnie speaks up.

“i know you’re confident enough to do things on your own but i hate it”

“what? why? i’m fine!”

“i know you’re fine but I’m not! it kills me, it eats up inside knowing that you could get hurt or get in trouble or something really bad happens to you and i’m not there to protect you”

hearing those words had y/n speechless. she knew vinnie was overprotective but not like this. what if something bad happened to her? vinnie wouldn’t be there to help her and protect her.

“i understand, my love, and i’m so sorry. i’ll make sure from now on that you’re my chauffeur everywhere i go”

“that can be arranged”

eventually, they arrived home, hand in hand, feeling closer than ever. they realised that their contrasting viewpoints could coexist. love, after all, sometimes requires a willingness to understand and compromise. from that night on, vinnie and y/n made a pact to strike a balance between their desire to keep each other safe and their respect for each other's independence. they vowed to discuss their concerns openly, finding solutions that nurtured trust and preserved their individuality.

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker x reader #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x y/n #vinnie hacker blurb

481 notes · View notes

auras-moonstone · 2 months

Text

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ don’t blame me for what you made me do

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 1.6K

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: gf!ethan landry x gf!fem!carpenter!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n is finally able to get revenge on her sisters when the bailey family reaches out to her to ask her to join the plan.

ᡣ𐭩 contents/warnings: implied character death. murder. family issues. bonding over shared issues. fluff.

ᡣ𐭩 author’s note: on sunday it was scream 6’s anniversary and it made me miss that era sm😫 the fandom is so dead, especially the ethan/jack one.

y/n had always felt like an outsider in her own family. her mom’s favorites had always been sam and tara. and y/n went under her radar, the curse of the middle child, they say. and then there were her sisters, who she was also not very close with. despite having only one year difference with tara, the youngest sibling had a better relationship with sam, so y/n was also left alone in the sibling department. she only had her dad, who used to be her entire world until he packed his bags and left her behind. and it was all because of sam carpenter.

revenge is a dish best served cold, they say. and after years of waiting, the opportunity came to y/n. it actually knocked on the door of her new apartment in new york city.

“um, hello? can i help you?” the girl asked confused, seeing three strangers standing before her. one was a man around his forties, then there was a tall boy with curly hair and a red-haired girl with green eyes.

“hi, y/n carpenter, right?” the man said.

“yeah… do i know you?” y/n asked, a tad creeped out.

“no, but you knew my son, richie.”

richie, the man who used to date sam and then try to kill her. the man who tied y/n up and hid her in a closet, telling her she was going to be okay. murdering her was never in richie’s plan, and it still confused the hell out of her.

y/n’s eyes widened. “yes. i’m really sorry about what happened.”

“thank you.” the man gave her a small smile. “my name is wayne bailey, these are my children, quinn and ethan.” his two kids waved at her and she smiled in response. “do you think we could talk for a few minutes? i have something to say that might interest you.”

she reluctantly let them in, and wayne started telling her about what richie told them. how he noticed the tension between her and her sisters, how he could see the resentment in her eyes everytime she looked at sam, how sometimes they became murderous too.

“i don’t know what to tell you… what’s this all about? why are you here?”

“you see, y/n, your sister murdered my son. the light of my life, and i want her to pay. and by what richie told me, i think that’s what you want too.”

that captured her interest. “sam is the reason my dad—the only person i was close with in that damn family—left. so, whatever you have planned, count me in.”

“are you okay?” y/n asked ethan, who looked very deep in thought as they entered the dorms building. they had just came from a meeting at wayne’s house, and ethan had been dead silent the whole way back home.

“i just… aren’t you scared? that things won’t work out and we might end like every other ghostface?” ethan was very expressive when he talked, he talked with his whole body, especially his hands. the maniac hand movement showed y/n that he was very anxious about the whole thing.

during the time she had spent with the baileys, she had reached a conclusion—wayne and quinn were all for revenge, it was clear they were furious with sam. and ethan, although he truly loved his brother and hated sam for what she did, was in on the plan for the mere purpose of pleasing his dad.

richie had been the favorite, and ethan wanted so bad for his father to see him like he once saw his brother that he was willing to sacrifice his life for it. y/n understood that feeling of wanting to belong more than anyone else, which was why she had connected with ethan in a way she never thought would be possible.

they became each other’s comfort, each other’s safe place when things got overwhelming. it really sucked to fake being wary of him, to act like she was trying to keep her distance because—like the rest of the group—she didn’t trust the new members, when it reality she just wanted to wrap her arms around his frame.

“i won’t let anything happen to you. even if i have to take a knife to the heart to make sure you get out of this alive, i’ll do it. i can promise you that.”

ethan shook his head. “but that’s exactly what i’m worried about. something happening to you. the thought of getting out of this without you… fuck, that can’t happen, y/n.”

y/n had seen ethan being vulnerable, he let himself be like that around her, but this was the first time she had seen him cry. it was a sight she never wanted to see again.

she carefully brush his tears away. “okay, then we’ll have each other’s back, okay? please don’t cry, you’re killing me.”

“i’m sorry, i’m just really scared.” he hid his face on the crook of her neck and took deep breaths to stop the tears.

“don’t be sorry. never apologise for feeling, especially to me. it just makes me sad to see your pretty eyes with tears, but i get what you say.”

“i don’t want to go back to the group.” he pouted.

y/n chuckled then checked her smartwatch. “it’s late. chad might wonder where you are.”

ethan groaned. “i don’t care. i’ll tell him i was at study group. can i stay here for a bit?”

“you’re a little obsessed with my presence, landry.” she joked.

“and what if i am?” he said before letting out a nervous laugh.

y/n took him in. his strong arm was settled on the back of the couch, right next to her head. his temple was resting on his closed hand and he was staring intently at her with those killer deep brown eyes. he was so beautiful and she was so weak when it came to him. and fuck if his full lips didn’t look so inviting.

her index finger lifted and it was soon tracing the shape of his lips. they felt as soft as his cute curls. “then we’d be on the same page. because i’m a little obsessed with you.”

ethan’s arm left the back of the couch to end up around the back of y/n’s neck, pulling her close. her shaky hand found its way to his hard chest, right where she could feel the thunderous beats of his heart, which only became more erratic when their lips finally met.

“mmmh, wanted it so bad.” he said between kisses. “we’re not going back to being just friends right? because i can’t handle that.”

“are you out of your mind? no way. you’re mine and i get to kiss you whenever i want. well, whenever i can.”

“yours. fuck, that sounds so good.” he hummed contently. “it’s going to be so hard to hold back from you.”

“but then, when we finally get to release the tension, it’s going to be so good, don’t you think?” she smirked.

“you drive me insane.”

“right back at you, pretty boy. i don’t think you realize how powerful those puppy eyes of yours are.”

ethan’s blood rushed to his cheeks and y/n giggled like a schoolgirl. her chest felt like busting. she was finally happy. truly. the 6 foot two brunet boy lying beneath her was her one source of happiness, and she was not going to let anything take him away from her.

y/n stood in her ghostface costume in front of her sisters. she was practically bouncing on her feet, excited to reveal herself and see the look on the girls’ faces. ethan, who had already shown his face, had the biggest smile. y/n was so adorable he had to close his hands in a fist to fight the temptation of bringing her into his arms.

“ready for the last surprise?.” wayne asked.

“come on, babe.” ethan squeezed her waist and y/n took the mask off. her sisters stepped back in shock, faces tinted with hurt.

“how could you?” tara spat as tears fell from her eyes.

y/n rolled her eyes. “oh, cry me a river.”

“why would you do this? is this all because of him?” sam pointed her head at ethan. “what? you fell in love and he brainwashed you into becoming a killer?”

“do you think i’m stupid? of course not.” she scoffed. “i mean, i did fall in love with him, but that’s besides the point. they came to my door a few days after we moved.” and she told them how she came to work with the baileys. “i waited years, and now… i can finally make you two pay for how shitty you’d always made me feel.”

“what are you talking about? we’re your sisters, y/n.”

y/n glared at tara. “you have some fucking nerve. you’ve always made me feel neglected, until sam left town. we started to bond, but as soon as she was back… you forgot about me. how can you even say you’re my sister?” she yelled in anger. ethan took her hand in comfort. “and you?” she looked at sam. “you’re the reason my dad left, and i swear to god i’m going to show you exactly how badly that hurt.”

“you crazy bitch. you’re insane.” tara screamed at her.

ethan slashed her stomach in fury. “watch your fucking mouth when you talk to my girlfriend!”

“let’s just get over with this. y/n deserves a break.” quinn said.

the carpenters sure put up a fight, y/n was the one who got most of the wounds, but they had managed to succeed. wayne and quinn left to take care of gale and mindy while ethan stay behind taking care of his girlfriend.

“are you feeling alright?”

“don’t worry, eth. they’re bad, but not that bad. i’ll for sure live.” she reassured him. “we made it. i told you we would.”

“you did.” he laughed, and then hugged her tightly. “you scared me so much, though. i really thought i’d lost you when i saw you lying on the ground.”

“i could never leave you.” she brushed her nose against his and whispered against his lips, “i love you. thanks for walking into my life.”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry scream #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry fluff #scream fanfic #scream iv #scream 6 #ghostface #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n

231 notes · View notes

honeys-hotties · 3 months

Note

ok this is kinda specific but can I request a julien fic where she's not sure if the reader is into girls and they're all out and a random guy hits on the reader and jb pretends to be her gf to get the reader away from him. and the reader plays along and kisses jb so she gets her confirmation and then they just confess their feelings ugh 🥰🥰🥰

i love this request!!! sorry it took me sooo long my loves, i've been absolutely overwhelmed with everything recently, but this one has been in the works for a bit and i'm so excited to get it out!!

My Type-Julien Baker x Reader

julien baker x fem!reader, sorta angsty? but happy ending (of course!) not proofread so i'm so sorry in advance, but i wanted to get something out tonight!

word count: 2727 💗

“When do you want me to pick you up?” Julien asks, her voice coming from the phone propped up on the coffee table. You’re sitting on the couch painting your nails while she watches through the screen, her face close to the camera on the facetime call.

“Umm, what time did Phoebe want to meet us there?” you ask, carefully applying a second coat.

“I think sometime around 9?” Julien says, smiling at the sight of you, deeply concentrated on your manicure.

“Okay” you say, capping the bottle and blowing on your freshly painted nails. “Do you wanna come over and get ready with me before we leave?”. Julien nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, that sounds fun. When should I come over?” she asks, getting even closer to the screen. You pick up the phone, careful not to smudge your nails, and laugh at Julien’s expression, her face giant on the screen. “Oh, I don't care, maybe around 7? I can order a pizza or something?”

“Sounds good princess” she nods. “I’ll see you then. You smile and blow her a kiss before hanging up the phone and grabbing a bottle of clear nail polish to go over the red painted onto your nails with a smile.

Julien, however, is much less relaxed. As soon as you hang up the phone, she lets out a huge sigh and immediately calls Phoebe and Lucy to vent.

“Guys, I’m literally going over to her house to get ready with her, which really means watching her get ready, and I don’t know if I can take it.” she says dramatically. “She’s just so gorgeous and smart and funny and cute but I don’t even know if she’s into girls and I feel like I’m going to fuck up and make things SO awkward and if I ruin our friendship I don’t know what I’ll do and I just-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there” Phoebe cuts her off. “First off, that girl is definitely not straight.”

“Oh one hundred percent,” Lucy chimes in. “Remember when she was auxing when we were at the beach and she played girl in red? And when she and I talked for like an hour about Portrait of a Lady on Fire?”

“Yeah, or when all of us were like, collectively drooling over that Angelina Jolie movie? Honestly, shoot your shot JB.” Phoebe encourages, Lucy nodding along.

“I don’t know guys, I really don’t want to fuck up our relationship. I mean, other than you guys, she’s my best friend in the entire world. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Julien, even if she was straight, which for the record she’s definitely not, she would never, ever hold your feelings against you.” Lucy tells her seriously, Phoebe agreeing with her.

“I guess so.” Julien tells them. “Alright, I love you both, I’ll see you at the bar tonight.” Julien waves to the pair before hanging up, dropping her phone onto the table, and dropping her face into her hands.

When you answer the door you’re fresh out of the shower, fresh faced with wet hair, wearing an oversized Green Day shirt, and tiny shorts, and Julien feels like she’s about to have a heart attack.

“Hey, you” you say, giving her a tight hug before opening the door further and letting her inside. “I just called, pizza should be on its way soon!” Julien can hear music playing faintly from your bathroom, and is acutely aware of the smell of your body wash and the fact that you are wearing very little clothing.

“Yeah, sounds good.” she says, walking inside and taking her shoes off, before following you into the bathroom where your makeup and hair products are spread out over the counter. She sits on top of the toilet and watches you dry your hair while you tell her about your day and the drama between some of your friends, looking at you like you hung the moon. Satisfied with your hair, you drag her into your bedroom and sit her down on the bed, pulling different hangers out of the closet.

“Okay, so I have this dress I thrifted,” you tell her, holding up a short, black dress. “It has this really cool neckline, and I was thinking I could do my layer necklaces and those black heels?” You show her another hanger. “I have this skirt too, though, and I thought I could wear it with that red top and my leather jacket? And my boots?” Julien stares at you blankly, but really she’s just picturing you in the clothes you’re holding up and trying so hard to keep her cool. You gently wave your fingers at her. “Hey, earth to JB, you okay over there?”

She starts, and stares at you for a second, blushing wildly. “Oh, um, I don’t, I mean, I think they would both look good.” she stutters, glancing down at her tattooed hands which are fidgeting in her lap. You roll your eyes playfully, laughing gently at her words.

“But which one would look better?” you ask, waving both of the hangers in her direction. “I was kinda leaning towards the dress, especially cause then I would match your shirt, but I really wanted your input!” Julien flushes again at your words, before nodding her head in agreement.

“I um, I think the dress would look really gorgeous on you.” she manages, and you beam at your words, heading into the bathroom to change and leaving Julien a flustered mess on the edge of your bed. Reminding herself of Lucy and Phoebe’s encouragements, she tells herself to get a grip and get over herself, taking several deep breaths as she waits for you to come back.

When you return, fully dressed and putting on your jewelry, Julien swears she can feel her heart stop. You pause, slightly self conscious under her gaze, and cast your eyes down, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “What, um, what do you think?” you ask her, slowly meeting her eyes with your own.

“I think you look stunning” she tells you, voice full of sincerity. “I mean, shit, you’re easily one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen.”

You flush at her words, and smile at her before grabbing your jacket and sitting down beside her to put on your shoes. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen too, JB.” you tell her, and miss the way her face burns at your words. “Ready to go?” you ask her, straightening up and grabbing her hand, pulling her into the living room as she nods. “You sure you’re okay with driving?” you ask her, grabbing your keys and phone while she ties her shoes.

“Of course I am,” she reassures you. “You just focus on having fun tonight, okay?” You grin at her, and the two of you chat about the night ahead all the way down to her truck, where she holds the door open for you before climbing inside herself. As soon as the car starts, she hands you her phone, and you pull up the playlist she had made for the both of you, singing along to the music the whole way to the bar. Julien has her hand resting on your knee as you speed through traffic, and you have your window down, the cold, nighttime air rushing through your hair.

Once the truck pulls into a parking space outside the bar and Julien opens your door, grabbing your hand and leading you into the bar, things start to speed up. Once the two of you find Lucy and Phoebe, making your way over to the booth they had claimed and greeting them with tight hugs and cheek kisses, Julien offers to get the three of you drinks, and after she leaves, Phoebe pulls you onto the dance floor. You throw your arms around Phoebe’s neck and she guides your hips to the music, the two of you a giggling, sweaty mess under the flashing lights and blasting speakers of the club. After Julien returns with your drinks, you pull Phoebe towards the table and slide into the booth, leaning up against Julien who lays an arm across your shoulders as you sip your drink.

“Having fun out there?” she asks, her face extremely close to yours in order to be heard over the music and chatter of the club. You nod, grinning, and gesture towards Phoebe

“She’s taking charge,” you say, laughing. “I’m just along for the ride.” Phoebe winks at you, pulling you into her side and planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal and laugh. Lucy laughs loudly at the pout on Julien’s face at the loss of contact between the two of you, and Julien rolls her eyes, before quickly excusing herself to go to the bathroom.

In front of the mirror, Julien splashes water on her face, exhaling deeply and trying to talk herself up. The images of you dancing with Phoebe, the ones of you getting ready earlier, and every single second you had spent with her played in her head as she spiraled into a haze of overthinking and self-doubt. How could someone like you ever fall for someone like her, she wonders, but before she can get too deep into her own head, Lucy barges into the bathroom. Seeing the questioning look on Julien's face, Lucy cuts her off before she can ask:

“I know you too well, JB. I know you’re in here overthinking, but you need to be out there making a move.” Julien tries to protest, but before she can even get the words out Lucy cuts her off again, holding out a hand. “Don’t even try to give me any of that ‘she’s so out of my league’ bullshit either Julien, you two are made for each other and you know it. Now snap out of it and get your ass out there. Go get your girl!”

Julien grins ruefully at Lucy, thanking her for the pep talk before heading out of the bathroom to find you.

Meanwhile, you had wandered over the bar to get another drink for you and Phoebe. Julien was acting weird, barely making eye contact with you ever since you two had arrived, and you were stuck wondering if you had done anything wrong. When she had left the table, you had wanted to go after her, but Lucy insisted that you should stay, that she would go check on Julien. Phoebe had encouraged you to get another drink, so you were sitting in front of the crowded bar while the drastically overworked bartender made his rounds. You were so absorbed in what was happening with Julien you didn’t notice the guy next to you that had been ogling you from the second you sat down, until he opened his mouth.

“Hey you, come here often?” he asked, and you cringed internally, before tuning to find the man. He wasn’t unattractive, but his sleazy pick up line coupled with the stench of alcohol on him and the fact that he was way too close to you turned you off completely to the man. Well that, plus the fact that you already knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t him.

“Um, not really.” You said politely, before attempting to turn back around. The man’s hand on your shoulder prevented you from doing so, though, and you felt panic rising up within you. You tuned out whatever he was saying, searching frantically for Lucy, for Phoebe or Julien behind him, but with no luck.

“Like I was saying,” the man continued. “A pretty girl like you really shouldn’t be here all alone. Let me buy you a drink, then maybe we can keep getting to know each other at my place.”

You felt fear closing over you, your friends were nowhere to be seen and this guy was relentless. “No, really, I’m not interested.” you told him as calmly as you could.

“Why not?” he asked, grinning horribly at you.

“I’m not available.” you hear yourself say, to which the man scoffs.

“That’s what they all say, but I don’t see anyone here for you-” but the man is cut off by a firm hand sliding around your waist.

“Sorry about that, baby.” Julien says, pulling you protectively into her. “Line for the bathroom was crazy long. Who’s this guy?” she asks, pointing to the man whose slimy grin had slid right off of his face. Relief rushes through you at the feeling of Julien’s hands on your hips, and you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“Don’t worry about it, honey.” you tell her, melting back into her arms. “This is, Matt, was it?” The man scowls.

“Mike, actually.” he responds, gruffly. Julien sticks out her tattooed hand.

“Mike, hi, I’m Julien. Her girlfriend.” she says gruffly, her voice and hands on you sending a wave of heat through your body. “And you’re obviously making her uncomfortable, so if you could leave, that would be great.”

“No, you know what, we were having a good time before you interrupted.” Mike scowled. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m her fucking girlfriend.” Julien snaps at him, before pulling you into a strong kiss. You relax into her, throwing your arms around her neck and she pulls you in by the waist, standing between your legs and tilting your head gently upwards to meet her lips. You kiss her back feverishly, until she abruptly pulls away and steps back. “He, uh, he left.” she tells you, running her hand across her mouth. “Sorry about that.” she mutters, before turning on her heel and running out the door, leaving you sitting at the bar, speechless.

You stare at the spot where she disappeared into the crowd, heading for the door for a moment, before jumping up and stumbling after her. You pass by the booth with Lucy and Phoebe who are sitting, staring at you with smirks on their faces.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Lucy asks, smiling gently as you get closer. “Go get your girl.” Phoebe whoops at her words, and you roll your eyes playfully at the two of them, before turning towards the door and hurrying out into the cold air. Once you stumble outside, and walk a couple feet down the sidewalk, you see Julien in the alley, leaned against the bricks with a cigarette in her hand. You walk slowly towards her, watching as she takes shaky drags from the cigarette in her hand.

“Hey, Jules.” You call softly to her when you’re a couple feet away, and she slowly meets your eyes with her own red-rimmed ones. “Why are you crying?”

“Fuck, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, you just looked so uncomfortable and I wanted to make sure you were safe but I wasn’t thinking and-” but you cut her off, surging forwards to kiss her again. Your hands fly into her hair and she drops the cigarette, crushing it under her boot before pulling you in by your hips. She runs her strong hands up your back and bites your bottom lip gently, causing you to moan into her mouth, tugging gently at the roots of her hair. Moments later, you break away, panting, and she rests her forehead against yours, breathing hard.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” you tell her, placing a finger to her lips when she begins to protest. “You did save me, and you showed me that you feel this too.” you gesture between the two of you. “I’ve been waiting for you to make a move for like, forever!” you tell her breathily, giggling at the incredulous look on her face.

“Me?!” she asks. “I thought I wasn’t your, uh, your type, I guess”

“Well, you thought wrong.” you say, before lacing your fingers with hers, smiling at the beautiful grin that breaks onto her face. “Let’s go tell Lucy and Phoebe good night, and then you can take me home.”

Julien steals one more quick kiss before squeezing your hand gently and pulling you after her back into the bar, laughing as you stumble, and thanking her lucky stars she had been wrong about you.

#julien baker x reader #boygenius #julien baker #honey writes #phoebe bridgers #lucy dacus

132 notes · View notes