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freedomfireflies · 7 months

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American Psycho*

Summary: Part of Halloween Kinktober, Freaky Fun, and One for the Money*

The one where you and your boss, Mr. Styles, have a little bit too much fun at the office Halloween party.

Can be read as standalone!

Word Count: 4.6k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“What…are you wearing?”

Mr. Styles glances down at his dark suit, brow cocked upward. “What does it look like?”

“Har,” you huff, although you’re smiling as you toss your makeup bag aside and move closer, “I thought you were putting on a costume. It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to dress up.”

“I am,” he argues. “I’m dressed as a guy that doesn’t want to fucking go.”

You laugh. “Come on, be fun for a change.”

“I’m the boss. I’m not supposed to be fun.”

“Well, they’re throwing this party for you,” you remind him. “Nadia’s been talking about it all week.”

“Right, instead of working. Which is not what I pay her to do.”

“Harry,” you repeat, shooting him a pointed look. “Seriously, why don’t you put on a little fake blood or something? You could go as Patrick Bateman!”

“And why would I do that when I could just not go at all?”

Pushing your pink, painted lips into a pout, you straighten up onto your tiptoes, and snake your arms around his neck. “Please, Sir? Just this once? For me?”

He begins to frown, but you feel his hands find your hips, expression stern but amused. “Peach…”

“I won’t ever ask for anything ever again,” you murmur, letting your mouth ghost atop his teasingly. “Swear. And I’ll behave all night. Be so good for you.”

He likes this idea, studying you carefully as his grip tightens. “Is that so?”

“Incredibly so. Just want to have fun with you, Sir.”

“I know,” he sighs, now cupping his palm against your cheek. “But you know the rule, honey. We can’t be seen together, not at the office.”

“I know,” you echo. “But we can still go. Even if we can’t exactly hold hands and dance in front of everybody, we can have fun. And I want that for you. You never take the stick out of your ass.”

Pinching your jaw playfully, he snorts. “And I thought you were gonna be good.”

“Once you agree, yeah. Until then, I make no promises.”

With a smirk, he grasps onto your chin, and tugs you to him. Smashing his lips to yours until you exhale gratefully and melt into his touch.

“Besides,” you mumble, “if you don’t come with me, then I’ll have to go in my slutty costume all by myself.”

Now you have his attention, his eyes narrowing sternly as he leans back to see you. “Oh, really?”

You nod. “Yup. Thought I’d use some of the lingerie you got me and go as a Playboy bunny.”

You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingertips – even through his nice dress shirt – and it makes you chuckle.

“Did you?” He doesn’t seem to have much else to offer, but you can see his walls beginning to crumble.

“Mhm. Equipped with a fuzzy little tail and ears.”

He swallows thickly before clearing his throat in an effort to appear nonchalant. “Well, let’s see it then.”

“Only if you agree to go.”

“Peach,” he warns, frowning again but you’re quick to shake your head.

“That’s my deal, Sir. Take it or leave it.”

And while you can tell he wants to be cross with you, he begins to smile, clearly amused with your negotiation tactics. Perhaps even a little proud.

“Fine,” he finally concedes, making you grin. “But I’m not putting on any makeup.”

“No, just a little fake blood,” you suggest, immediately rushing toward your bag to retrieve the bottle. “It won’t stain, and it washes right out.”

He eyes you carefully while you scurry across his apartment. “And I suppose you’d like me to carry an ax, too.”

“I mean…it would sell the part,” you tease. “But let’s start with the blood. Go wait in the bathroom and I’ll go change really quick.”

“No, don’t,” he calls, almost firmly before you can slip from the room. “Not yet.”

You hesitate. “Okay…why? What’s wrong?”

His tongue runs over his bottom lip while his head cocks deviously to the side. “Because if you do…then we aren’t ever leaving this apartment.”

And you can’t help but grin.

“Let me guess…Edward Cullen?”

Even from a few feet away, you can see Harry’s expression fall. “Funny.”

“What?” Nadia smiles. “Come on, you look just like him. The blood and the suit and everything. It’s good.”

“Great,” he grumbles but you can tell he’s amused.

She laughs. “Patrick Bateman is a good look for you, boss. I like it. Feels…fitting.”

“Is that so?”

“It is. But in a sexy, fun kind of way.”

He snorts before his eyes trail over to you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You wink.

The party is relaxed but enjoyable. Everyone is mingling, drinking, and dancing to the upbeat, spooky playlist. The usually boring, gray interior of the office floor is decorated with orange lights, carved pumpkins, and an array of ghostly décor. And nearly everyone came in costume, making it feel that much more like Halloween.

And despite the fact that you and Mr. Styles are forced to remain distant, you find yourself admiring him from across the room almost all evening. Happy that he seems to have finally begun to unwind, relax, and even enjoy himself.

You watch as he engages in chatter with some of the other men in the finance department. You catch his eye while you’re grabbing a drink of the festive punch. And you feel him stare as you and Nadia head to the middle of the floor to dance to Somebody’s Watching Me.

Truth be told, you find it hard to be away from him after so many nights together. And even though it’s what you both agreed on, you feel a certain sort of longing for the handsome man in the corner of the room.

However, neither of you are quite ready to tell the office you’re dating yet or deal with the potential fallout. At least not right now, when things are so new. Special. You suppose that could change in the future, but at least for tonight, he’s your dirty little secret.

So you resort to exchanging sneaky glances from time to time as you enjoy the party. Like now, when you catch his subtle but devious smile from behind the shadows while his hand casually slips into his suit jacket pocket.

It’s a nonchalant motion. Relaxed enough that you barely catch on as you and Nadia continue swaying back and forth to the rhythm. Enjoying the heavy bass and eerie tune.

And then, suddenly…you feel it. The first, gentle vibration from the toy sitting snugly inside your pussy.

Your breath hitches.

And now you understand his look of amusement and the disappearance of his hand. He’s testing out the toy, warning you of his intentions even from the other side of the room.

Just like he promised.

After all, that was his only condition. He’d dress up, he’d play nice, he’d be a good boss.

But if he wasn’t allowed to touch you all night, he at least wanted to have some fun. And remind you that he is still the one you belong to.

A reminder he gleefully gives you now, turning up the strength on the small bullet inside your cunt while he continues chatting with Alex from IT.

He’s not looking at you anymore – something you almost despise – but it’s obvious that he’s entertained. Fighting against a wry grin as he nods along in conversation.

You, on the other hand, are beginning to feel the effects of the teasing. A sharp, pleasurable chill running down your legs while you falter in place and swallow a gasp.

Confused, Nadia eyes you carefully. “You okay?” she calls over the music, leaning closer. “You look a little woozy.”

“I’m…no, I’m…I’m good,” you manage to stammer, forcing a nod before you continue with your dance. “S’just hot in here, I guess.”

“God, you’re telling me,” she snorts, running a knuckle under her eye to catch some smeared makeup. “Last time I commit to the leather pants.”

Exhaling a laugh, you slowly pull your thighs together, hoping to lessen the vibrations currently traveling through your pussy. “Well, you look great.”

“Thanks,” she laughs before gesturing up and down at your costume. “What about you, hm? This is the sexiest corset I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks, it’s quite hard to breathe in,” you retort playfully, glancing over the pink silk on your torso. “This will also be the last time I commit to lingerie in public.”

“Fair enough. But that’s what Halloween is for, right? So you can be your true, slutty self just for one night.”

You chuckle again before slowly looking over to catch a glimpse of your sadistic boyfriend. However, you find that the smug bastard is now nowhere to be found. Having disappeared from the room, leaving you to struggle without him.

And then, you feel the strength increase.

It’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore the pleasure building in your stomach or the sharp rushes of ecstasy that echo across your clit. Which you suppose is his goal, although you aren’t sure why he’s so determined to make you fall apart under so many obvious eyes.

But you imagine that’s part of the fun. The idea that even though he can’t be with you, he can control your pleasure.

And you have to admit…you adore him for it.

With a shaky exhale, you nod your head toward the exit. “I’m, uh…I’m gonna go get some fresh air for a bit. I’ll be right back.”

Nadia nods. “No problem. I’ll be here.”

Leaving her with a smile, you begin to search for where he might have gone. You imagine his office, although you aren’t quite sure how you’re meant to meet him when so many people are watching.

Sure, more than half the room is drunk or otherwise occupied, but you don’t want to taunt fate. Especially after begging him to come in the first place.

But the painful pleasure in your cunt is beginning to worsen and you realize rather quickly that there’s only one solution.

Him.

So, you take a deep breath and slip into the adjoining hall, traveling through the darkness until you find his door.

You take a deep breath and knock twice, calling a soft but hopeful, “Mr. Styles? Are you in there?”

The sound of a lock turning nearly makes you shiver, and you can’t help but grin giddily as the door swings open, and a hand outstretches for you.

You’re yanked inside before you can even offer a greeting, tossed mercilessly toward his desk while he slams the door shut, and turns to face you.

And he’s stunning. So effortlessly beautiful, even with the blood dripping down his face. You wonder if you should be worried you find this so attractive, but you don’t exactly have it in you to care. Because the way his disheveled suit hugs his broad frame is sinfully delicious and the ruby droplets smeared across his jaw makes your cunt clench around the toy.

He strides toward you, drinking you in like he’s dying of thirst. Eyes dark and clouded with salacious intentions.

He takes hold of your face between strong palms and crashes his mouth to yours. Hips pushing you back until you collide with the wooden table just behind you. Trapping you there while you gasp for air and tangle your fingers in his messy curls.

He groans in response, nipping at your bottom lip until you can’t breathe. “Gonna fucking kill me, Peach. Walking around in this slutty little costume. Almost came in my pants when you bent over.”

You smirk lazily as his kisses move down your neck. “Good, that was my plan.”

He makes another animalistic noise before shoving at your waist a bit harder.

One hand disappears back into his pocket while the other travels up your fishnet stockings and settles against your cunt. The heel of his palm pressing against your covered clit as his harsh kisses dance beneath your ear.

“Shit, Har—” you gasp before you feel him tug your skin between his teeth. “Sir. Please…need…”

“I know,” he grunts, increasing the power of the toy until you’re both moaning. “Can feel it, Peach. Feels good, hm? Feels so fucking good. Bet you’re gonna cum in your pretty, little panties before I even touch you, yeah?”

You make another incoherent noise as his hand pushes the toy further into your pussy. The electric vibrations reverberate across his palm, doubling the sensation until your head just about drops back. Making the bunny ears slip to the ground, forgotten.

“Good,” he hums, and you feel a bit of his fake blood smear across your neck. “S’a good girl, honey. Already close, aren’t you? What a pathetic little thing. Always fall apart so fast when I use a toy to play with you.”

You nod quickly in agreement. After all, he’s right. Vibrators have you coming faster than almost anything else – besides his cock.

And his mouth.

This is a fact he utilizes now, nudging the vibrator further into you until your legs begin to shake. You can feel it in your stomach, the first unraveling as it becomes stronger, and louder, and faster.

You fling an arm around his shoulders for stability before you’re disintegrating beneath him. Writhing and squirming and panting as he sees you through.

“There you go,” he whispers, mouth brushing over yours. Wanting to taste your moans as you come down. “You’re all right, my love. Doing so good, hm? Gonna give me another?”

You nod faintly and he smirks before reaching beneath your corset top to find the decorative panties attached to your costume.

He shoves them aside without pause before ripping the delicate fabric of the stockings almost fiercely. And far too easily for your liking.

He then retrieves the small toy from inside your cunt – smiling when he feels how soaked the silicone has become – before he’s dragging it up to your clit. Pressing the stimulating tip into your sensitive and swollen nerves as you suddenly gasp and go reeling.

“Shh,” he hushes, glancing over your face. “Can’t be too loud, hm? Y’know I love it when you scream for me, but we can’t let me hear, can we?”

“It’s…it’s Halloween,” you counter. “They’re used to screams.”

But Mr. Styles merely smirks. “Be that as it may…I don’t want to share your screams with anyone else. Not tonight.”

You feel your head grow fuzzier as he dips down to take your lips with his.

“Tonight…your screams belong to me,” he exhales against your tongue before he’s pressing the vibrator harder against your cunt.

You’re a mess. Soaking his hand, your outfit, the toy. Shaking almost pitifully while he finally releases the remote to press his palm to the back of your neck. Forcing your faces together until neither one of you can breathe without the other.

He was right, you are pathetic. So goddamn tragic as you begin to shake beneath the bullet. Already close to your second orgasm of the evening before he’s even had a chance to tease you.

But you don’t think he minds. He collects your orgasms like Pokémon cards. Wearing the number proudly until you’re nothing but a pile of limbs in his arms.

Two is only a start. And you know as long as he has this toy, he plans to force you into many more.

“Fucking shit, Peach,” he groans, forehead resting against yours as he glances down at where his hand is settled between your thighs. “Oh, that’s my girl. Always behave so well for me. Knew you would, yeah? Just like you promised.”

Again, you can do nothing but nod weakly. Still clinging to his body like a lifeline while he strokes you through the aftershocks.

“Okay,” he finally sighs, removing the toy and swiping his thumb across your clit. Collecting the arousal waiting for him just to bring it up to his lips. “Okay, honey, turn around. Bend over the desk for me.”

You whimper at the way he takes his body from you and from the very idea of what comes next. You hate that you won’t be able to see his face, but you adore this position. Especially because of the way he manhandles you.

Like now as his hands suddenly grasp onto your hips to fling you around so you’re facing his large, floor to ceiling windows.

The city is beautiful at night. Lit up like a prize, vast and seemingly endless. It’s one of your favorite things about his office and you smile to yourself as you take in the view.

But you aren’t afforded the chance to daydream long before he’s weaving his fingers through your roots and pushing you down until your chest meets his desk. Keeping you bent and pliable as he undoes his leather belt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, squeezing your scalp as though to reward you. “Gonna fuck you quick. Can’t have Nadia come looking for you, can we?”

You whimper a response before you hear his pants fall to the floor, followed by a snapping of elastic as he pulls his cock from his briefs.

“Let me have a look at you,” he grits, releasing your head so he can stand back and admire your dripping pussy. Pulling back the costume until your cunt is on display for his hungry eyes. “So fucking cute, Peach. S’all pretty and red. Just weeping for me, hm?”

“Sir—”

“Get all sensitive when I make you cum a lot, don’t you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer. “Your puffy little clit gets all swollen and achy, hm?”

“Yes…yes, Sir, please—”

“Just one more for now, yeah? Just one. And then I’ll take you home and do it right.”

There’s a racing in your chest that can’t be contained. A sharp thrill that lives beneath your skin. He’s everything. His voice, his touch, his intentions. Even his mind. It’s wickedly beautiful and you adore him more than anything in the world.

You feel his fingers smooth through your folds. Teasing you for only a moment before you feel his cock come into play. Repeating the action of pressing and slipping through the wetness that awaits him.

“Can’t tell you what this costume does to me,” he whispers, groping your side with one hand. Preparing you. “You, and this tight, little fucking top, and these goddamn tights. Everybody was staring when you came in. Fucking everybody and I could’ve killed them.”

You moan something akin to his name, but he’s not listening. He’s lost on you. On your body and the way it looks, spread out before him.

“Even this fucking bunny tail,” he snorts, and you feel him pinch the fuzzy ball on your ass playfully. “Sits so pretty on you, y’know. Just like that plug I got you.”

“Shit,” you mumble, stomach clenching at the memory. “Har—”

His hand comes down in a sharp strike to your left ass cheek as you jolt. “Uh-uh. What’s my name?”

“Sir,” you correct, eyes squeezing shut. “Sir, please…please fuck me. Need you so bad—”

“Do you, hm?” He lands another spank before smoothing over the area with calmer motions.

You nod. “You look so good, Sir. Can’t…can’t stand it.”

Even without being able to see him, you can picture his smirk. “Do I?”

“Yes,” you exhale, almost groaning from the thought. “Covered in blood, wearing my favorite suit. Even the way you did your hair. S’been so hard to keep my hands off you tonight.”

You hear a dark, rather sadistic chuckle. “You like the blood, do you?”

You whimper. “Know I shouldn’t, but…it makes you look so fucking hot, Sir.”

Another harsh smack to your ass. Louder this time. “You know how I feel about your cussing, Peach.”

“M’sorry, Sir. But it’s true. You’re so fucking hot like this.”

He spanks you a fourth time but he’s still chuckling. “I’ll remember that,” he murmurs, kneading the tender flesh in his palm. “Never thought my precious peach would have such dirty fantasies.”

“I don’t, Sir. Only when it’s you.”

And he seems to like this idea, cursing in the back of his throat before nudging the tip of his cock against your clit. Making you both gasp until he finds your hole.

The first push in is delicious. Slow enough to prepare you and ease you open, but it’s everything. Scratching an itch that makes your brain turn to mush. Until you’re nearly collapsing onto his desk with anxious whimpers.

“Good,” he breathes from behind you. “Good girl. That’s it, my love. Let me in, just like that. You all right?”

Another faint motion of your head. One that almost concerns him as he laces his fingers back through your roots.

“Peach,” he grunts. “Know I need your words. And you will give them to me when I ask for them. So what’s your color?”

“Green,” you whisper, nails curling into the wooden table beneath. “M’sorry, Sir, I’m green. Just feels so good. Wanted…to focus. To feel you.”

You hear him sigh before he’s pushing in a bit further. “Then fucking feel me.”

He sits inside your cunt like he was always meant to be there. Warm and thick and the perfect stretch. Making the stars return to your eyes as you begin to cry out his name.

However, he releases your scalp only to reach around and smack his palm against your lips. Keeping you quiet as he begins his thrusts.

“Uh-uh,” he warns. “Be a good little bunny and stay quiet.”

The pace is slow at first. Just enough to drive you absolutely mad and you imagine the scariest thing about tonight is how easily you’ve become such a blubbering mess.

“Like it when Daddy’s mean, don’t you?” he calls, returning both hands to your hips. “Like it when I treat you like you’re nothing.”

You can feel the sticky substance of the fake blood smearing across your hips. Probably staining your clothes – an obvious mark of his touch. A mark you’d proudly wear for the rest of your life if he’d let you.

“So fucking wet, honey,” he hisses. “S’just drowning my cock, isn’t it?”

You offer a garbled noise.

“Yeah. Just dripping down me, baby. Begging me to do something about it. Begging me to fucking take you.”

Your entire body is shaking. Along with the desk and an assortment of papers and pens that become scattered with every sharp drive of his hips.

And you can hear it. Can hear the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your pussy and echoing between the walls of his large office. Wet, and lewd, and almost pornographic in nature. It’s obvious how needy you are for him. How unhinged your body has become. Soaking him exactly the way he loves as he fucks himself into you.

You can feel the sweat beading at your hairline. Can hear your pulse thumping in your ears – in time to the music in the other room and the thrusting of his hips. Leaving you to do nothing but lay across his desk and take it. Take him, exactly the way he wanted.

“How about another, hm?” He squeezes your sides harshly before one hand leaves you. “Gonna give me another, my love?”

Nodding tiredly, you allow your lashes to flutter shut. Focusing instead on the sound of his voice and the rough touch of his fingertips. You can feel it building. Can practically taste the beginnings of a third orgasm. You’re powerless to the pleasure. Undone by the man behind you as he readjusts his stance and angles his cock up.

It’s wicked. The immense, overwhelming, and unfathomable coursing of lust between each joint, and muscle, and fiber. You can’t escape it, can’t fight it. Can’t even understand it.

That’s what you needed. That spot, that attention. Over and over and over, and he’s so good at hitting it just right. Only to drag his cock back out and leave you empty and wilted.

“Relax,” he orders firmly before a familiar buzzing reverberates between your ears. “Relax, Peach. It’s okay, honey. Just want one more.”

The bullet is snaked around your hip before it’s pressing firmly to your clit. Forcing the sensitive and swollen bud to succumb to the vibrations and bring you that much closer.

You cry out for a second time, hands scratching down his desk, but he only curses through gritted teeth.

“There you go,” he exhales, and it’s thick. “S’okay, I’ve got you.”

He’s a mad man. Deranged and borderline animalistic with the way he demands your body bend to his will.

“Sir—” You suck in a large gasp for air, but it’s useless. “Har, please—”

His large palm spanks down on your ass as punishment, but he doesn’t comment on your slip. “I know. Almost there. Know you’re almost there, can feel you clenching, baby. Keep going. Feels so fucking good—”

“Can’t…can’t—”

“Yes, you can. Know it hurts, but you can do it. You’ll do it, come on.”

And you want to, you do. More than anything, but it’s almost too good. You can’t think properly, can’t seem to relax long enough to let the orgasm overtake you.

Then, he’s wrangling you up. Pulling you until your back is pressed against his chest while he nudges his nose against your cheek. Inhaling you with a groan before he trails a few open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

And in the reflection of his office windows, you see your silhouettes.

You, in your stunning Playboy costume, tits bouncing up out of the corset with each thrust, fake blood painted across your face and neck.

And him.

The devastatingly wonderful man behind you. Dressed in the sexiest suit you’ve ever seen, gelled curls gone askew, and that same blood dripping down almost every inch of him.

And he’s pounding his cock into your cunt like there’s no tomorrow. Trapping you against his body, your heaving chest in one hand, and the vibrating toy in the other.

“So good, Peach,” he whispers. “So fucking good. Need you to cum, baby, please. Right now. Cum.”

And you do.

You don’t expect it. Have no time to prepare for it. Don’t even understand it’s happening until that white-hot explosion is dancing down your spine and expanding through your stomach. All the way into your toes as you whimper his name and wither in his touch.

He does his best to hold you up while maintaining the pace he set. Faster and harder until he’s spilling inside of you with a moan. Mumbling your name while a hundred praises follow suit.

The aftershocks of this one seem to drag on longer than most. But you both indulge in the floaty feeling as you work to catch your breath. Syncopating to each other’s inhales until your heartbeats become one.

“Did so good,” he sighs, nuzzling his cheek to yours. “God, so fucking good. Feel like heaven, you know that?”

You smile lazily and settle into his arms, allowing your weight to rest atop his. “Well…it’s easy when you look like this.”

He chuckles softly and kisses your temple. “You really do have a blood kink, hm?”

“No, I have a you-covered-in-blood kink. I don’t care when it’s anybody else.”

Now, he reaches out to slide his finger under your chin and turn your face to his. Staring at you for only a moment before he kisses you. Hard and yet filled with an emotion you just might recognize.

“Want you to do something for me, Peach,” he mumbles against your lips.

You nod quickly.

“Want you to fix your little panties…go down to my car…and wait for me.”

You feel your breath hitch.

He smiles.

“We’ve got some videotapes to make.”

~ One for the Money Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

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asapeveryday · 12 days

Text

The Last Time Pt1

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral sex

Summary: You rarely go out due to how hard your classes are, but a rare outing to a Halloween party draws you to a certain blonde’s attention.

Authors note: Not my first fic, but my first time writing for Paige, or writing anything on this app!!!im nervous asf but it’s okay 😇 pls point out any spelling mistakes pls I write these at like 2am.

Minors DNI beyond the cut!!

The house was one of the massive ones off campus, white picket fences and a big kitchen perfect for partygoers to escape the loud music. Fall had turned the hot, humid and vibrant summer nights into colder ones. Streets were littered with brown and orange leaves, and houses decorated with cobwebs and blow-up ghosts.

Your friends were used to going out for Halloween parties, but you never really bothered. Your classes just got harder by the year, so you always put off a long night out. To you it was worth it, because your grades were top 3 in your program.

“When was the last time you even got laid?” Your best friend asks you.

You shrug. “I dunno. July?”

“Whatever.” She sighs, realizing it wasn’t as bad as she thought. “Still, that’s like almost 3 months of no puss. Please just come to this party, it’ll be fun!” She whines.

“Isn’t it early for a Halloween party? It’s only the 20th. We still have a week. Plus, I don’t have a costume.” You say, hoping she’ll let you stay home.

“You don’t understand, this is massive. A Halloween-birthday-party is not one that you wanna miss” She beams at you. “And I have a basketball jersey you can wear for the night. Wear shorts with it, be sexy.”

“Shorts?? It’s October!” You groan.

Regardless, you found yourself inside of this house. Your friend wasn’t lying when she said this was a pretty big party, with all the people shoving up against you it was uncomfortable to be in in your sleeveless jersey and black shorts. The kitchen was slightly less rowdy so you started to search the fridge for some comfort in the form of food or alcohol before you heard a cough behind you.

“Yo.”

You turn only to find yourself having to look up at a much taller girl. Her blonde hair was long and down on her shoulders, except for the front pieces which were Dutch-braided closer to her head. She was wearing a really casual outfit, a matching Nike tracksuit. The only thing remotely Halloween-y thing on her was the pair of fake Angel wings on her back.

“Nice costume.” You almost scoff.

“You can’t be talkin. What are you, a fangirl?” She looks down at you. Her eyes are so blue you almost stumble backwards into to fridge.

“Fair.” You sheepishly smile at her. “It was really last minute, this isn’t even my jersey.”

“That’s cus it’s mine.” The mystery blonde laughs.

Immediately you look down at yourself, a white number 5 is sprawled against the navy fabric of the women’s basketball jersey you borrowed. You look up at the blonde again and your face drops.

“Oh shit! You’re-“

“Paige.” She finishes your sentence. “Not a basketball fan?”

“Not really.” You smile. You tell her your name and she repeats it back to you with a smirk that you feel straight in your gut. You’ve rarely seen Paige on campus, so having her right in front of you has helped you realize just how fine she really is.

“The jersey looks good on you.” Her eyes sweep throughout your body.

“You don’t come off as much of an Angel to me.” You raise your eyebrow at her, referring to her half-assed costume. You haven’t heard too many rumours about Paige Bueckers sex life, but you can just tell by her silent confidence, the way she stands and even just the way she looks at you that she gets around. Being a D1 athlete probably helps too.

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough.” She shrugs, maintaining eye contact with you.

“So Paige, is this your place or..”

“Nah. My friends threw this party as a surprise for me. Not even sure who’s crib this is but whatever.” She rubs the back of her neck. “You didn’t come with a gift, did you?” Paige asks.

“No, was I supposed to?”

“It’s my birthday ma, I think you owe me something.” She steps closer, looking at you through her long eyelashes.

You actually feel your heart drop to your ass at this point, and she can tell. Paige cocks her head to the staircase nearby and you almost run after her when she leads you upstairs.

You’re already making out by the time you crash into a bedroom, she slams the door shut and pushes you up against it. You almost faint when you feel her knee between your legs, applying pressure to your clit. She kisses you slowly, taking her time to memorize the feeling of her hands grazing your face, then trailing down your body and finding themselves inside the jersey. Her blonde hair tickles your neck as she starts to trail her kisses downwards.

Paige’s hands trail from your abdomen to your hips, roughly pulling your shorts down and kneeling to be face to face with your heat. You resist the urge to cover yourself from her, and can’t help but think about how awkward you must look from this angle, but she doesn’t seem to care. Gripping your thighs and looking up at you with her ice-blue eyes, she licks a slow stripe onto your already wet undies, chuckling when you shudder.

Pulling your underwear to the side with one hand, she slowly eases her finger inside of you and you throw your head back with a breathy moan that makes her smile. She sucks at your clit while adding another finger, then pumping into you almost on beat to the music blasting downstairs. Her tongue is insane to you, circling your clit so skillfully while curling her fingers inside of you, your knees almost buckle and your hands find her long hair, pushing her head. “Oh my god.” You breathe out. “I’m close.”

“Already?” Paige chuckles into you. When she removes her fingers and quickly replaces them with her mouth, lapping and licking inside of you you almost scream. The vibrations from her voice huffing around you are enough for you to feel that tight, building feeling in your stomach, and you cum right there and then.

She cleans whatever she can before pulling up your shorts for you and kissing you chastely, enough so you can taste yourself on her lips. When she pulls away you slump to the floor, legs twitching.

“Shit!” You embarrassedly mumble. Paige laughs and sits next to you. With both of your backs to the door you turn your head to meet her stare. “Happy birthday.” You laugh. She rubs her face, hiding her smile. “Pfft, thanks.”

“I thought I was supposed to gift you? You just gave me like, the best head I’ve had since I started college.”

“Seeing you fall to the ground at my head game is enough of a gift for me.” She shrugs, a smug look on her face. “Plus, there’s always next time if you wanna make it up to me.”

The two of you exchange numbers, the situation is so unreal to you that you’re convinced this is all some mistake.

“Did you even plan on hooking up with someone tonight?” You ask her suddenly, and she seems surprised at your honesty.

“Uhh…I’m not gonna lie, not really. This party was a surprise, remember?” She sighs. “I think seeing some cute girl in my jersey, totally oblivious, jus did something to me.”

You raise your eyebrow. “You didn’t even get to see what was under it.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman.” She laughs. “I’m exhausted, giving ankle-breaking head does that to you.”

“Shut up.” You say, shoving her lightly.

There’s a pause before you take a chance and say “There’s a good burger place nearby if you want to recharge a bit.”

The minute you say it you regret it. Paige Bueckers was in no hurry to get upstairs with you, there’s no way she’s gonna take you out for food too. Plus, since when did you go out with girls you met at parties?

She looks at you for a second, considering you. Finally she says “Fuck it, why not.”

Paige gets up and you follow after her lead. She laughs at the way you walk down the stairs and the two of you slip out of the house as sneakily as possible. Paige offers to drive you even though it was your suggestion. “What can I say, I love my car.” She smiles.

The burgers are good and her laugh is contagious. The two of you sit in her car while you eat, she almost screams when you steal a fry and you pretend to be annoyed when she takes a sip of your drink in retaliation.

You feel so nervous being around her, Paige seems so sure of herself. You can tell she already knows what she wants out of college, out of basketball, even out of girls. Sometimes, even though you devoted so much time to preforming well academically, you weren’t entirely sure it was all gonna work out for you. You feared all your hard work wouldn’t be worth it in the end.

After a moment of silence, you ask her “Does it ever freak you out, having so many people betting on your success? If I were you I’d be so scared of letting people down.” You disguise your own fear as a question for her. Paige looks at you for a moment, then smiles.

“Yeah, It does. I’ve already had moments where it felt like I let everyone down.” She says, looking down at her leg. “But no success comes without pressure, so I guess feeling that way is more of a blessing from God than anything. It’s like He’s reminding me of everything I have to lose. Ion’ think there’s much wrong with that.”

You’re surprised at how mature her answer is. “There’s no way you’re talking about God after you just gave head to a stranger.” You laugh.

She shrugs, a guilty but satisfied look on her face. “You’re not human if you don’t sin once in a while.”

“Amen.” You smile.

The two of you talk about stupid things until it’s well past midnight, and when she drops you off at your dorm you turn to say “I had more fun then I thought I would tonight.”

Paige smiles, her blue eyes staring holes into yours. “It won’t be the last time you have fun with me.” She says, laughing to herself.

“Shut up.” You nudge her. She shakes her head, and waves at you when you start to walk to your building.

You turn to wave back. Even though you know you can’t be anything serious with Paige, you can’t ignore the warm feeling in your stomach when you think about the night you shared. You seriously hope it won’t be the last time.

#paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers #fanfic #fanfiction #uconn wbb #smut

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venuslore · 6 months

Text

𖥔 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𖥔

summary ; steve has been admiring you for some time now, and you’ve been wanting him too, but one halloween party finally pushes you both to make a move.

pairing ; steve harrington × fem!reader

notes ; nsfw, pet-names (baby), self-fingering and female orgasm, mentions of bodily fluids, cussing, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol (let me know if i forgot any)

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

droplets of sweat gathered on the nape of your neck, pooling in the valley between your breasts, as you danced in the middle of the crowded room. the music was loud, almost too loud, but there was an undeniable electricity in the air. not from the atmosphere or the array of eyes on you from people you had never met. not even the alcohol that coursed through your system, but only between you and him.

him, steve harrington, the only person whose attention truly mattered.

you could feel his deep, lust-filled gaze boring into you from across the room, watching you so intently you were sure you were going to combust. he stood leaning up against the wall in the far corner, one arm raised to steady himself while the other held a cup to his lips. he adorned a recycled halloween costume as robin remained by his side, talking about who knows what, but despite the little nod here and there, all he could focus on was you.

steve loved watching you. he loved watching the way your body moved to the music. he loved watching the way you would meet his gaze, the slightest glint of a smirk tugging at your lips before continuing to pretend that he wasn't even there. he specifically loved watching the way your skirt would hitch up your thighs the same way it would whenever you went into his work.

he was sure he was the reason behind it. no, he knew he was the reason behind it. that you would purposely pull your skirt higher just for him, and even more so when you would bend over in the aisles pretending to look for something on the bottom shelf. being well aware that he was the only one that could see you.

he knew what you were doing — that you knew what you were doing — stringing him along and playing hard to get. you were challenging him. you weren't giving in to him like every other girl that looked his way recently.

you were making him work for it - for you.

except tonight he had other plans. tonight, he was finally going to get what he wanted. at least, so he thought.

"listen, i know it was my idea to crash this party, but it's kinda lame," eddie joins you, disrupting your dancing and slowing down your movements. "y'wanna find the others and get out of here?"

eddie was right. the party itself was lame. the only thing giving you any sort of entertainment was the free alcohol and the look on steve's face; steve who had now disappeared from where he stood only a moment ago as you peer over your friend's shoulder.

the munson boy waits for you to answer, your attention now absent from the conversation as you scanned the room rapidly but there was no sign of him anywhere. eddie repeats his question, but it's not until he snaps his impatient fingers in your face that you finally return to him.

"c'mon, let's find steve and robin and we'll go back to mine. can finally show you that new riff i learnt on the guitar," he imitates playing his sweetheart, hair bouncing in an unruly mess, as more bystanders begin to stare.

you laugh, giving him a slight nudge, "okay, munson. i'll search upstairs, you search downstairs."

the two of you pan off in different directions, you heading for the staircase by the front door as he began in the kitchen. as you pushed your way through the crowd, weaving yourself to the entryway, you spot robin at the bottom of them, but still no sign of steve.

you call her name, but your voice falls on deaf ears over the music. she twirls around, hands fidgeting with the hem of her shirt when she finally spots you and a relieved smile bestows upon her lips.

"we're gonna go back to eddie's. where's steve?" you raise your voice, leaning towards her ear so that she could hear you.

"he went upstairs. something about needing a moment away from the music,” she gestures upstairs where there were far less people. "i'll go get him."

she turns to head up the stairs but your hand catches her arm before she can so much as put her foot on the bottom step, "it's okay, i'll get him. you go find eddie and we'll meet you at his van."

robin nods, though there seems to be a knowing look in her eyes, a hint of a smirk as if there were some obvious secret only you didn't know about, and she traipses off toward the kitchen in search of eddie.

once alone, you take one look up the large staircase and let out a deep breath. this was it, this was the moment you were finally going to tell steve that if he truly wanted you so bad, it was about time he did something about it.

with each step, your heart seems to beat a little bit faster. the top of the stairs growing further away and when you finally get to them, there are only a couple of small groups of people scattered along the balustrade. you weave your way through the crowd once more to find the bathroom and just as you're about to knock, it opens before your hand can graze the wood with your knuckles.

steve stands on the other side, eyes widening when he sees you, but the sight of him causes the breath in your throat to catch. his dishevelled hair, deep pink lips and dark eyes entrapped by a red tinge - he was truly a sight for sore eyes.

"y/n," your name falls off the tip of his tongue like sweet honey, sending an immediate wave of bumps across your skin. "are you okay?" he looks almost concerned, brows furrowing when it takes you a moment to answer.

"uh, yeah. we're going to ditch the party and, um, and..." you pause for a beat, words turning to a jumbled mess inside your head and all the confidence you had tried to bestill had disappeared. "... um, head back to eddie's. we're going to head back to eddie's." you repeat it a second time for safe measure.

he nods, slowly, his eyes purposely falling to your lips as he exhales and leans back against the doorframe, "yeah. i mean, we could do that..." his words are even slower, pulling you in with each syllable. "or... we could talk about what's really going on here?"

this was it. this was the moment he was finally going to do something about it.

"i have no idea what you're talking about." you lift your right shoulder into a shrug, pursing your lips before gazing up at him through your lashes.

his lips part as he leans in closer, his face so close you could feel his alcohol-saturated breath on your cheek. "so, i'm just imagining you pulling up that pretty little skirt of yours on purpose, huh?"

you almost gasp, throat tightening with need. need for him. "apparently... though, it's nice to know you've been thinking about me."

the devilish grin on your face now infuriates him because, once again, you were in control.

a breathy chuckle leaves his lips, fingers raking through his hair, "what am i going to do with you?"

"i don't know. what are you going to do with me?" a moment of realisation passes through his eyes. you want him to do something about it, want him to finally give in to the urges. all this time, he had been waiting, and now, here you were, allowing him to have what had been torturing him.

while his head races with a million thoughts, in reality, only seconds had passed by, but those few seconds were more than enough to build a wall of tension. his gaze falls to your lips once more, and in a heated movement of passion, he finally takes the leap and presses his to them.

soft moans reverberate through his neck, daring to carry you away as your fingers curl through his hair. you press yourself against him, almost knocking him over, but he answers your neediness and pulls you into the bathroom to close the door and lock it.

all the tension, flirty looks and suggestive gestures that had been building up over the past few months had finally started to unravel in a matter of seconds. igniting you both so much so that you were sure to catch fire.

the kisses seem to last forever, despite feeling rushed, and when he starts to trail his lips down the side of your neck, you're left a hot mess as you try to regain your breath. your core was already aching for attention, throbbing within your underwear, as his hands ran rampant all over your body.

he glides his tongue across your skin, hair tickling your face as he begins to suck lightly, "you've no idea what you've done to me. how badly i've wanted this." he mumbles against you, sparking thought in your mind, and at this, you gently push him away and slide yourself back on the counter.

"is that so?" you breathe heavily. "tell me about it."

there's a glint of confusion in his eyes, brows slightly furrowing, as he stands between your legs. you had so much power over him and you planned to keep it that way.

if you gave in to him so easily, all the long months you had spent teasing and hinting at him would've been for nothing. he needed to know that you weren't going to give yourself up to him just because he wanted it - he needed to earn you.

"d'you really want me, harrington?" your words are low, breathy, sending shivers down his spine as he gazes into your eyes.

"fuck," he nods, the word shakily falling from his lips and he swallows hard. "i want you so bad."

your lips quirk up once again, heart beating so fast it was thrumming in your ears. you lean forward, lips barely grazing his, and whisper, "tell me what you want... while you watch me touch myself." before planting your teeth around his bottom lip and tugging on it.

"w-what?" there's a hitch in his voice as you feel yourself growing wet within the confines of your underwear. he's stunned. eyes wide and jaw taut.

"tell me what you want, and i'm yours, but... touch me, and you lose." your words are barely above a whisper but they're enough to send shivers down his body.

his breath catches in his throat, letting out a small gasp, as his dewy brown eyes bore into you once again. only this time, there was determination clouding them. he wanted you. he wanted you so bad, and he was going to do everything he could to get you - to finally feel you.

he opens his mouth to speak but stops when you lean back against the mirror, hitching your skirt up and spreading your legs before him. revealing the black lace underwear you had worn in anticipation. the same pair that he had only ever caught glimpses of.

"what's the matter, harrington? you like watching me... don't you?" you ask, coyly, batting your lashes.

he groans, lulling his head back to reveal his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows once more. you lift a finger to touch the tip of his chin, letting it trail down his chest before landing between your legs. he watches your hand as if his life depended on it.

you slowly trace the edges of your underwear where your core was barely covered. lips poking out around the thin material, gathering up your wetness when your finger starts to rub small circles over the top of them.

"are you wet?" steve asks, and you nod, brows arching from the touch already.

he shuffles nervously on his feet, pulling at the material around his crotch to give himself more growing space, but his eyes never leave you. not for a second. and they only double in size when you finally move your panties to the side, confirming your answer - your sweetness glistening under the dim bathroom glow.

"holy f-fuck, y/n," he retorts with astonishment, almost falling to his knees at the sight of you before him. "you're killing me here."

"tell me more," you press the tips of your fingers to your tongue, collecting the saliva that had gathered, and gently start moving them across your sweet little bundle of nerves.

"you're so fucking pretty, baby. i bet you're so warm too. i bet your pretty little pussy is so fucking warm," his words caress your ears as your movement starts to speed up, building up the sensation in your core. "i want you so bad. i want to feel you wrapped around my cock. every fucking inch of you."

a small chuckle falls from your lips, as you now press your middle finger into your hole. moaning at the feeling and slowly you begin to fuck yourself, all while steve's eyes remain trained on you. catching a glimpse of you fingering yourself but focusing on your facial expressions and the way you're making your own mouth fall open with ecstasy.

"fuck your little hole, baby," he says, almost demandingly, which again makes you want to prove that you were still in control. so you add another finger. "fucking hell, i want to taste you so bad."

"mmm-yeah? you wanna taste me, harrington? you wanna know what my pretty little pussy tastes like?" your words are slightly muffled, as you continue to penetrate yourself. fingers gliding in and out of your goodness with ease, hitting just the right spot as the top of your palm rubs your clit, causing your hips to buck up a little.

his hand involuntarily falls to his crotch, he didn't think you noticed. but it was a little hard not to when he begins palming himself through his pants as his eyes burned with so much desire. desire for you.

you can feel the coil within your core on the verge of breaking, ready to snap as you near your end. the pleasure of it all becoming too much, as your hips buck more rapidly, face contorting and mouth falling agape. you grab onto steve's jacket with your free hand, gripping the material and bringing him closer.

"f-fuck, i'm gonna cum," your breathing is unsteady, all over the place as you get closer, wrapping your arm around steve's head to grab a fistful of his hair. “make me cum, harrington.”

“show me how you cum, baby. show me how pretty you look when you let it all go. you do that and i’m gonna fill you up so good,” his voice is low as he presses his head to yours. “you want me to bury my cock in you, don’t you?”

"mmm- fuck yeah," your moan is cut off by steve's mouth as he presses his lips to yours once more. immediately gliding his tongue across them for permission and you give it to him, letting his tongue enter.

and just like that, you're overcome with stimulation. a wave of sensation coursing through you but steve doesn't pull away, instead, he muffles your cries with kisses as he takes in the sight of you. completely vulnerable as you chase your high. chest rising and falling at a dramatic pace as your hips twitch and buck, eyes glazed over and brows arched. to hear the sweet noises you made, muffled or not.

it was a sight he had only seen once, but, oh boy, did he want to see it again.

"oh, fuck," you sigh, words split by your panting as you try to regain your breath. you still hadn't stopped fingering yourself, only slowed down the movements as your creamy goodness collected along them.

"i'm that good of a kisser, huh?" steve chuckles, staring down at you still slowly pumping your digits into yourself, eyes unwavering from the wetness that covered them.

"whatever makes you sleep better at night," you smirk, finally pulling your fingers from your pussy at the same time someone knocks on the door. "i guess that's our cue to go. eddie and robin will be waiting for us."

you both slide off the counter, your underwear slipping down to your feet as you quickly wash your hands. but rather than pulling them back on when you’re done, you gather them and scrunch them into a ball.

"what are you doing?" steve asks, confused when you pull the pocket of his jacket open and slip them inside.

"think of it as a parting gift," you smile, patting it closed then lean up to place a soft kiss on his lips, "plus, it's easier access for later."

#— ꒰ ‧ ₊˚ vee daydreams ˖꙳‧ ꒱#steve harrington ᰔ #— not sfw ! ᰔ #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff

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antiwhores · 2 years

Text

Bakugou’s sidekick with a mask

Bakugou has known his sidekick for 3 years now and he has not once seen your face. No one has. Hes getting curious too with the crush he’s harboring.

Yall I gotta take my braids out today but im not tryna do that. Also, my friends keep calling me mommy. Im childless!

Part 2 👇🏾

Bakugou has never, not ONCE, seen your face.

You work at his agency as his sidekick and yet he has no real idea what you look like. You’re documents are proved secure so you’re not a villain in disguise. And even so, he would’ve caught you acting suspisous by now. You just really don’t wanna show your face.

No one has seen your face in the agency. You walk around with a full face mask and suit like some spider-man wannabe and never take it off. Not even in the girls locker room! And oh, the female workers have tried to pry it off you.

As a little inside joke between the both of you, Katsuki offered a reward to anyone in the agency who could catch you without your mask on and tell him what you looked like.

They would hide in lockers and wait for you to take off your mask. They would be seething with excitment, practically hyperventilating. Then you would pull off the mask to reveal another mask.

This cracked Bakugou the hell up when he heard the gossip. The whole situation honestly only made his fondness for you stronger

This same procedure repeated a whole bunch of other time too. They would think they finally caught you then you would reveal another mask. One of them even tried sneak attacking you to rip the mask off. Only to reveal another mask.

The masks the multiplied while the amount of people trying divided until everyone gave up and there were about a hundred of your masks hanging around.

Of course, Bakugou was curious. Especially since during the 3 years of you being his annoying sidekick, he’d started to feel some unwanted love and attachment towards you. How was he supposed to ask you out if he didn’t know who he was asking out? Not that he cared what you looked like. Its just he wanted to know to feel… special.

He had managed to pry a bit of information about you along with sarcastic comments:

“Okay. Just answer my questions if you’re not gonna let me pull that damned mask off.”

“Ugh, why’re you so curious? Are you wondering if I’m insanely hot? I am, now leave me alone.”

“No you fucking idiot, its just unfair.”

“Unfair?”

“Yes unfair, I’ve known your dumbass for 3 years. We hang out outside of work, we’ve almost died together like 40 times, and you’ve seen me almost naked!”

“Not by choice! I swear, you should’ve locked the door!”

“IT WAS THE BOYS BATHROOM!”

“OKAY AND?”

“Oh my fucking god. Anyway, all that shit and I dont even know what your dumbass face looks like! You could just walk by me out of costume and I’d have no damn idea who you were.”

“Yeah, thats the fun of it! Makes me feel like a spy.”

He gives you a serious look, “y/n-“

“Uuuuugggghhh, fine you whiny bitch. What do you wanna know?”

“What race are you?”

“What race do you think I am?”

“I’ve seen your skin sometimes when your costume breaks. Also I know you’re from y/c so your probably y/r.”

“Racist.”

“Im gonna fucking murder you!”

“You’re correct, you smart cookie! Anything else?”

“Yeah-“

“EHHHHH! Only one question every 3 years Katsuki!”

“THREE YEARS?-“

Eventually he does see you outside of work but just as he suspected, he has absolutely no idea its you.

There was a villain attack happening and you were oblivious to it. Or more like you couldn’t afford to do something right now. You had forgotten your costume but thankfully you heard familiar explosions accompanied with the voice of Sero.

“Oh, they got this.” You mumbled as you continued to walk in the direction of your apartment. You took a bite out of a piece of the cheesecake you went all the way across town to get.

The deluctable flavor, and maybe your lack of care, stopped you from realizing a literal car was fly towards you. Honestly, you’d walk out pretty okay if it hit you, banged up but alive, and thats all you needed. You also overused your quirk yesterday and now you’re basically quirkless so there wasn’t really anything you could do without loosing your cheesecake and that was worth more than your life.

Just as you prepared for the car by taking another bite you were swooped up into warm arms. The stranger had flung himself and you into the air. You couldn’t bring yourself to even care cause YOU DROPPED YOUR FUCKING BAG OF CHEESECAKE.

You screamed at the man, it all came out muffled due to your mouthful.

“WHAT TE FEK? MY CHESS CAKE! GO BAIK!”

The man whos arms you were in ignored you. He went to drop you off on top of the building you were standing under but you immediately jumped off.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?” The man screamed. He must’ve thought you were doing this just to die.

He blasted himself down to grab you before landing on the ground safely.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

You were about to turn around to answer but the words died in your throught at seeing your partner. So you just pulled yourself away from his grip and walked over to the bag. You picked it up with a bright smile before continuing your walk.

He grabbed the back of your shirt before you could get away. “Do you have a fucking death wish or something?!” You broke the piece that you were about to grab into two. You took the other piece and shoved it in his mouth.

He looked like he was about to murder you but you just threw him a thumbs up. He spit the cake out, earning an insulted scream from you. “What the hel-“ Before he could finish the sentence he was interrupted by Sero. “BAKUGOU! If your finished flirting with the civilian… COME HELP ME!”

Its like he remembered he was in a fight by the way his face hardened. He grabbed your neck, turning you to face him. “Leave. I don’t wanna see you around here again. And definitely not for no fuckin’ cheesecake.”

You nodded feverishly, a blush was creeping up your cheeks. You felt exposed looking him straight in the eyes. Like one wrong move and he knew everything about you.

He mumbled something about you reminding him of another dumbass he knows before blasting away.

The next day when you guys were patrolling he told you the story. You couldn’t stop laughing at how he described whom he didn’t know was you. “Yeah and then she wanted to fucking give me attitude and shove cake in my mouth!” You giggled, “Was it at least good cake?” “YES!”

#mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou fluff

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moonbeamwritings · 1 year

Text

Hitoshi has known Denki for long enough to know that receiving a TikTok link from him at 3AM is never a good thing, especially not when it’s accompanied by a text that reads “ayooo i wish you’d look at me like that” followed by a dozen drooling, weeping, and woozy emojis.

Squinting tired eyes at the screen, Hitoshi reluctantly taps the link. He’s already more than a little sleep deprived; what’s another minute wasted watching some stupid video? Except, Hitoshi’s heart quickens, his eyes widening when he sees himself onscreen, decked out in his hero costume.

It’s a video from a week ago, taken shortly after a villain attack. It was minor, no major injuries or destruction, but you both had lingered on scene until everyone was properly taken care of. In it, you and him are standing practically shoulder to shoulder, eyes scanning over something offscreen. Hitoshi watches with rapt attention as you giggle, dropping your hand to his elbow and staring up at him with a friendly smile. He can’t remember what he’d said that afternoon to make you smile like that, but warmth floods his cheeks as he recalls the feeling of your body so close to his and the sweet sound of your laugh.

Whoever took the video lingers on his face long enough to catch the moment Shinsou’s expression shifts when you finally look away. No longer under your scrutiny, Hitoshi has the freedom to stare unabashedly, gaze shifting along the line of your side profile, a smirk tugging at his lips all the while. Before the video cuts away, Shinsou straightens his back and crosses his arms, widening his stance. The smirk doesn’t drop, though he has the decency to tuck it behind his binding scarf.

It loops and loops as Hitoshi’s mouth drops open in abject horror. Over and over again he comes face to face with the feelings he’d been trying, and apparently spectacularly failing, to hide. The video already has thousands upon thousands of likes and just as many favorites. The comments share Denki’s sentiments, ranting about how hot Shinsou is, how pretty and how lucky you are. How obvious the tension between you two is. Shit.

He falls down a comment thread filled with speculations that the two of you are already dating or that you’re hooking up, though some naysayers prefer to ship you with Deku or Dynamight. Nope, he thinks to himself when one commenter suggests you’ve been dating since high school. Just hopelessly pining. And Hitoshi’s face feels much too hot as he presses it into his pillow to muffle a long, embarrassed groan.

It feels weird, almost invasive, to see himself through someone else’s eyes, and sure, the conversation had happened on the sidewalk in broad daylight, but Hitoshi can’t fight the feeling of discomfort that lingers beneath his skin. He’s always been pretty reserved, quiet or pensive where other heroes may be more outgoing, so the video, and it’s climbing view count, leave him feeling put on the spot. Curse his dreams of becoming a pro-hero.

When he flips to press his back into the mattress and stare at the ceiling, he only hopes you haven’t seen it, lest you witness his crush on you on repeat (with an incessant pop song in the background). He texts Denki a few eye roll emojis and surrenders himself to the rapid beat of his heart and another sleepless night.

#shinsou x reader #shinsou imagine #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou imagine #mha x reader #mha imagine #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #bnha fluff #shinsou fluff #part two where another video comes out and reader is looking JUST AS LOVESICK #ew ew ew i hate them #stop being in love and shit where civilians can see

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soullumii · 5 months

Text

it's a risk but babe, i need the thrill | joel miller x f!reader

part 1, part 2

summary: everything finally comes to a head

warnings: 18+!!! smut! unprotected piv, gentle smut

tags: angst, reconciliation, fluff, pining, smut (but it's light compared to the other two parts), halloween vibes (i was supposed to finish this in october, oops)

word count: 5.8k

a/n: guys. i am SO SORRY for the wait. this was so hard for me to finish i almost gave up so many times. i'm still unhappy with this but i can't make myself work on it anymore so here u go. thank you all so much for your patience, i really appreciate it. special thank you to @joelsfaveouritegirl for your support... i probably would've never finished this if it weren't for you, so thank you. <3. and thanks to all of you who kept me accountable. i hope you enjoy this fucking mess. also, this is probably the last joel fic i'll write for a while. i'm sorry. still, i hope you like this.

______________________________________________________________

There are only two seasons in Jackson, Wyoming: winter and not winter.

Where other states might have a gradual shift from warm to cold, in Wyoming, it’s like a slap to the face, quite literally. The moment you step into the evening October air, it feels as if you’ve walked into a wall of cold.

You shiver in your thick coat, and pull your scarf over your frosty nose as you meander down to the plaza.

While Jackson residents enjoy their time indoors and close to the fireplace during the colder months, they still love to celebrate outdoors, relying on their booze to keep them warm.

You don’t stop by Joel’s for a drink this time, he’s likely already in town square, dragged there by his daughter. Or… sort of daughter. He’s told you how he feels about Ellie, but the girl has her own opinions. Sure, she might deny that he’s like her dad, but she sure as hell treats him like he is.

You’re meeting them there.

The stars are already twinkling in the sky when you reach the throng of people. All of Jackson’s residents are in the plaza tonight for Halloween, dressed in homemade costumes and ones raided from the Party City in Idaho Falls. Jack-o-lanterns glow menacingly in corners and scarecrows are propped against brick walls. A few people in particularly frightening costumes prowl about, startling kids and adults alike.

Stalls line the edges of the plaza, each one providing something different. Tipsy Bison’s stall is run by Tommy, serving alcohol for the adults of the town. Seth’s stall is serving pork and brisket sandwiches. There’s a few stalls down the road advertising pumpkins and pastries, and you get a whiff of apple cider. Barrels of fire are scattered about to provide warmth. Lights are strung from the roofs of buildings, spread across the road, like clothes on a clothesline.

It’s incredibly cozy, and already, you feel much warmer than you did walking out of your house.

Within moments of passing Seth’s stall you hear Ellie’s voice ring out.

“She's here!”

You can’t see her weaving through the crowd but you can see Joel trailing behind, his arm trapped in front of him. He politely excuses himself and apologizes to those he bumps into as his daughter drags him through a crowd of people.

You can’t help but laugh, especially when you hear him say, “Jesus, kid, slow down.”

And then she’s in front of you, smiling and bouncing excitedly on her heels, dressed as one of the superheroes from the comics she reads. Joel is behind her wearing a black blindfold with the eyes cut out, and a felt superhero crest is stitched to the front of his black sweater. He looks very adorable. Clearly, Ellie forced him to dress up. His gaze catches yours, full of something you can’t quite grasp, a small, embarrassed smile on his lips.

“Hi,” he says, voice soft.

“Hi,” you repeat.

It’s been… well… you’re not quite sure how to describe how it’s been since you told him to stop kissing you.

It’s not like you guys have stopped seeing each other since then. Or that it’s been more awkward or anything. It just feels as if you’ve been depriving your body of what it needs, like you’re actively starving yourself.

You’d feel full while he was fucking you, and yet there was a hole in your chest, gnawing at your thoughts, a hunger so deep rooted that it’s been taking you longer to come.

Joel had noticed, too. Noticed your struggle and your frustration. He took it as something he was doing wrong, even though you insisted that wasn’t the case. Still, he took his time with you, trying to meet all your needs, and that, funnily enough, just made you feel worse.

Your meetings have grown fewer. Sometimes you would go a couple weeks without seeing each other—at least like that. Funny, how before you were so upset when he hadn’t been with you for a while. And now… now the distance is needed.

You still went out to dinner with him and Tommy and Maria. You still stopped by to say hi to Ellie and ask Joel how he’s been. Things have been normal, besides the overwhelming feeling of longing that strikes your breast the moment you see him.

You worry that it shows on your face, especially because of the dreams you’ve been having, like some lovesick teenager. Dreams that don’t involve just having sex. Dreams that frame the two of you as lovers, as parents as… growing old together.

Sometimes you’ll wake up crying, wondering if maybe you should just stop seeing him, talking to him, being around him all together. But then you’ll see him in town, or on patrols, and you know you’d never be able to stay away.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, and turn your attention to Ellie.

“Hey kiddo!” You greet, plastering a smile on. She doesn’t seem to notice your being off.

“You’re not dressed up,” she remarks, arms crossing over her chest.

“Um. Yes I am,” you gesture to your black sweater and black pants. “I’m a black cat.”

“You don’t even have ears or whiskers and a nose. That's a terrible costume.”

Joel squeezes her shoulder with a frown. “Hey, quit.”

“No, she’s fine. She’s right,” you sigh. “This was super last minute.”

“Cat is doing face painting down by the haunted house. You should let her paint some whiskers on you.”

You take a glance at Joel and he shrugs. God he looks ridiculous in that costume. Your heart constricts. You might as well be as ridiculous as him.

“That sounds great,” you say. Ellie looks like she’s about to drag you there when Dina comes running around the corner, practically slamming into her.

“Hey!” Ellie laughs, “Slow down.”

“You have to come with me. We’re going to do the haunted house, Jesse is already waiting for us. Come on,” Dina says, and pulls Ellie away before you and Joel can say a thing.

The two of you stand there for a moment, watching the kids with fond smiles before finally looking at each other.

His gaze seems to soften impossibly more when it lands on you.

“Your costume is kinda lame,” he says after a moment.

“Oh shut up.”

The paintbrush glides smoothly over your skin as Cat paints the tip of your nose black and whiskers on your cheeks. You keep sneaking glances at Joel who waits patiently for your face painting session to finish.

Once you’re done you stride over to him, grinning.

“Well?” You prompt, turning around and showing off your newly improved costume. “Not so lame anymore, huh?”

He chuckles, eyes roaming your figure. Heat simmers low in your belly at the glint in his dark eyes. “Much better.”

He pauses, eyes catching on your face. “Hey, wait.” He grabs your hand and pulls you in close. He’s warm, a nice contrast to the cool October air. You want to just snuggle up to him, wriggle your fingers up under his sweater to share his warmth.

“You got a little somethin’…” he trails off, hand coming up to press his thumb to your skin. He gently wipes off a stray black smudge from beneath your eye. It takes no less than five seconds, yet it feels like an eternity. Your chest presses into his, his hand is warm as it cups your cheek. His breath puffs against your lips, an almost kiss. And his eyes, focused so dearly on the smudge, slowly drift up to lock with yours.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, gaze never straying from yours. His hand never leaves your cheek, his thumb brushing carefully below your eye once more, a soft, subconscious caress now.

“Thanks,” you breathe.

Time feels like it’s stopped.

A kid rushes by with a delighted scream as another kid in a costume chases after him. You and Joel jolt apart, snapped back into motion.

He clears his throat and you swallow hard.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” he asks.

“Yes, please.”

***

Tommy is beaming with his own little flush of alcohol when you and Joel come across his stall.

Maria hangs by his side, but her eyes follow every action happening around you. Ever the diligent leader.

“Howdy,” Tommy says, and Maria takes the time to glance over at the two of you with a welcoming smile.

“Hey,” Joel says, and you nod your head in greeting.

“You guys lookin’ for a drink?” Tommy asks. “We’ve got spiked apple cider.”

You bounce excitedly on your toes at that. Joel laughs lightly at the way your expression brightens. “We’ll take two.”

“Comin’ right up.”

“You’ve done a great job planning for this, Maria. Everything looks amazing,” you say.

She turns to you, and to your surprise, she looks a bit bashful. “Thanks. Everyone on the council helped a lot. I’m glad we can provide something fun like this.”

“The kids really need it.”

“I think the adults do, too. It’s nice to be able to scream without it being true fear.”

“Amen to that,” Tommy pipes up and sets two mugs of steaming spiked apple cider down.

“Thanks, Tommy,” Joel says, and hands you a mug.

“There’s a haunted house down the road, you guys should go check it out. Laney and Paul spent a long time on it,” Maria says.

“We will, thanks. See you guys around!”

You wave goodbye to them and make your way through the plaza. Joel’s hand finds the small of your back, warm and steady. You’re glad for it, as scarers prowl along the streets, jumping out randomly and thrusting their hands in your face.

The haunted house lingers at the edge of the road like a ghost. Party City decorations blot the yard: gravestones, plastic skeletons, witches with rotted cloaks. It’s like everything they could manage to carry was dumped here.

A line curves outside the door, kids bouncing on their feet as they await their turns. You feel a little ridiculous joining them, being your age, but Joel probably feels even more ridiculous so you push the thought from your mind.

“I’m actually kind of nervous,” you tell him as screams ring out from within the house.

“This thing ain’t nearly as terrifyin’ as the real world,” Joel says.

“Yeah, but still. I’ve never been a fan of being scared.”

Joel takes a sip of his spiked apple cider and shrugs. “I’ll protect ya.”

“My hero,” you coo and run your hand over the superhero crest stitched to his chest. He smiles.

Soon enough you’re at the door.

“You go first,” you tell Joel, and shove him in front of you, but you don’t let go of him.

"Good to know you're not afraid to throw me to the wolves."

"Your sacrifice will not be in vain."

He rolls his eyes but lets you fist one of your hands in his sweater and hold onto his arm with the other. You peer around him as the two of you venture inside.

A radio plays spooky sounds from all directions as you trail behind Joel through the house. Your eyes flit across every crevice, searching for who is going to scare you. Still, you don’t notice everything.

From seemingly nowhere, someone pops out in a Michael Meyers mask with a fake knife. You screech and hold tight to Joel. He hardly even flinches.

“How are you so chill?” you ask with a pout once you’ve recovered. Red lights flash in the hallway. Your voice is shaking. God, you’re a wimp.

“Because I’ve got someone I need to protect. I can’t act all scared, now, can I?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s just making shit up. He’s not scared at all.

You get closer and closer to him as the house progresses. Your hands are now interlinked, your cheek pressed against the warm muscle of his shoulder blades. You’re practically on top of him, trying to stay as close as possible.

Even with Joel acting so nonchalant, you’re scared. You get jump scared a few more times as you continue, thankful that your hands are preoccupied with holding onto Joel else you might’ve punched one of the scarers.

Eventually you make it to the end in one piece, your heart racing. You know it’s ridiculous—Ellie probably got through this with a straight face. Still, it’s kind of fun, being scared. You’re giggling into Joel’s sweater by the end of it, and he’s tucked you into his side, hand still interlocked with yours as you meander back to the plaza.

Warmth blossoms in your chest. Is this what it would be like if you were truly together? You feel the urge to push up on your toes to kiss him, but you shove it down. Guilt tugs at the back of your mind at the thought.

“You’re such a scaredy cat, I guess that costume is fittin’,” he muses, rubbing warmth into your waist.

“Sorry we can’t all be macho men like you."

You go to pull away, to create some distance. You can’t keep getting close to him like this. It weighs too heavily on your heart. But Joel squeezes your hand and tugs you back into his side, and you’re so very weak. You melt into him despite yourself.

“I think you rather like my macho-ness,” he says.

Heat pools in your belly at the smirk on his face, the darkness in his eyes. You avert your gaze with a small smile, warmth coloring your cheeks. “Yeah right.”

He turns toward you, towering over you. His hand splays heavily on your hip, and you shudder. “Playin’ coy now, huh? Where was this yesterday when—“

“Joel!” Ellie screeches, skidding to a stop in front of the two of you. You feel the urge to jerk away, but Joel only shifts so that he’s no longer in your face. He still keeps you close.

“What’s up kiddo?”

“There’s a campfire, everyone’s asking us to play a song.”

That piques your interest. Joel has played guitar for you a couple times, though he’s always very shy about it. You’ve stumbled across him playing on his own with no one to watch. It’s fascinating what the music does to him.

It’s like he’s transported somewhere else, his eyes closed as his fingers pluck the strings of his guitar, his foot tapping to the beat, his head nodding along as his hands tell a story through the notes.

You’ve never seen him play a whole song like that, he’s always noticed you before he could ever finish. And when you’d ask him to keep playing, there was a bit of stiltedness. You realized it was nervousness… he wanted you to be impressed, to like what he was doing.

You’re not sure how you ever could dislike his playing.

“You should do it,” you say.

Joel’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I dunno—“

“What, you’re not scared, are you?” you tease.

“Don't talk to me about being scared. Pretty sure you stretched out my sweater with how hard you were holding onto me,” he counters.

“Will you two stop bickering like a married couple? Joel, they’re waiting. Come on!” Ellie says and grabs his hand, tugging him along. You laugh as you follow, though her little comment sticks in your mind.

***

Joel settles down on a log with his guitar in his lap. Ellie sits at his side. You got a spot a couple logs away, so you could get a good view of them. The campfire lights his silver hair copper, reflecting like stars off the wood of his guitar.

“Any fans of Bread here?” he asks, and a few hoots and hollers sound out. Joel laughs at that, and Ellie rolls her eyes. You've never heard of the band, but you wait with bated breath. They tune their guitars, and then Joel takes a deep breath and counts down.

One, two, three, four…

Soft strumming fills the air. Ellie keeps the main melody, but Joel plucks more of the details. He sings first.

Baby I’m-a want you

Baby I’m-a need you

You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about

His voice is smooth, a bit shaky from the nerves, but it washes over you like a warm wave of water. Immediately, you’re drawn in. It’s unrealistic, but you still think that Joel could save the world with his voice. It’s scratchy but soft, if one can be both of those things at the same time.

He looks up through his lashes, his gaze catching yours.

Maybe I’m-a crazy, but I just can’t live without

your lovin’ and affection… givin’ me direction

Like a guiding light to help me through my darkest hours

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be-a stayin’

Beside me…

Your breath catches in your throat while he sings.

It’s just a song, you tell yourself. But the way he’s looking at you… it’s as if everyone else has disappeared. As if the words were created specifically for you. As if… as if maybe he chose this song for a reason…

Ellie picks up the prechorus with her angelic voice, and you’re brought back into the present. But then Joel starts the solo, his eyelids fluttering shut as the music takes over him. His head nods along to notes as he plucks each one out with precision and skill. His foot taps in time with the beat, and people cheer, but you can’t stop staring.

The solo ends all too soon, but Joel’s voice merges beautifully with Ellie’s harmonies back on the prechorus once more.

Lately I’m-a prayin’ that you’ll always be a stayin’

Beside me…

Used to be my life was just emotions passin’ by.

Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry

He gives you a small grin, secret, for no one else but you.

You taught me why…

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Oh, it took so long to find you baby

Baby I’m-a want you.

Baby I’m-a need you.

Your chest constricts at the sight of him, at the sound of the last few notes being plucked expertly by his fingers. At the blend of his voice with Ellie’s. You can't bear to sit here at this campfire, watching him only as a friend, a fellow neighbor, just like everyone else. You want him to sing this song for you. To know that it’s only you he’s thinking of as the last few strings are plucked by his nimble fingers, ringing out into the dark, cold night. That it’s only you he sees clapping and cheering him on. But you can’t even grant him that, already on your feet the moment the song ends, practically sprinting away from the campfire as your throat grows tight and tears spring to your eyes.

You hope no one has noticed. You hope the footsteps you can hear crunching on crimson leaves are just someone walking past. Of course they’re not though.

“Are you okay?” the familiar timbre of Joel’s voice asks.

God, no! Why!

You frantically wipe the tears from your eyes, sniffling snot so it doesn’t drip down your lip and betray you.

“Oh,” you start, and internally curse the way your voice shakes. You turn toward the one who has been unraveling you at the seams with a trembling smile. “Hi, Joel.”

“Christ, what’s wrong, baby?”

“Don’t—don’t call me baby,” you say, and it’s not at all what you mean to say. You mean to just reassure, to just brush this off and bury it deep inside and never let it out. But you don’t.

Joel’s face hardens, and he steps in closer with a hand stretched out but at the look on your face, thinks better of touching you.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

Nothing. It was just a pretty song.

Was it for me?

Nothing. I’m just being hormonal.

Do those lyrics mean something to you?

Nothing.

Enough. Enough with the excuses and the rules and the lies.

“You happened,” you spit.

He takes a surprised step back. “What?”

“You and your stupid fucking—your stupid fucking friends with benefits and your stupid fucking big heart and your stupid fucking guitar happened, Joel.”

This is probably the first time you’ve ever rendered Joel speechless outside of sex. He looks so stupid standing there staring at you with his wide eyes and his dropped jaw. And yet all you want to do his pull him in and hug him and tell him how much you love his stupid fucking face. Instead, you take a step back.

“I don’t… I don’t understand,” he mutters. “You’re freezin’. Let’s head back to my place, we can talk about it there—“

“No. No. I won’t let you just fuck me and then pretend like whatever’s between us doesn’t exist.”

“That’s not—“ he starts, but then must register what you said because his brows furrow over his ice cold gaze. “Me? I pretend like it doesn’t exist?”

“Yes!”

“No I don’t. You’re the one that told me you didn’t want me to kiss you anymore. You’re the one that’s been keepin’ me at arm's length all this time. You’re the one pretending.”

You go to yell back at him, to deny, but the realization that he’s right kills the words in your throat, and you fall silent.

Joel steps closer, his voice dropping. “You can act like I’m the one that’s been torturing you as much as you like, but it just ain’t true.”

His eyes flit across your face wildly, taking in the tears in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, the tint of your cheeks from the cold. He softens.

“Darlin' I... I have been in love with you since the first time I heard you laugh. Since the first time you even glanced my way. Every god damn day is torture wanting all of you when all I can have is some of you.”

You can’t speak, can hardly even breathe.

“If you don’t want to make this anythin’ other than sex, just tell me,” he whispers, his hand coming up to cradle your jaw. His breath condenses into steam in the cold air. “Tell me you want to keep pretending, and we can keep pretending."

“I…I don’t.” You shake your head. “I don’t want to keep pretending.”

His nose brushes yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Tell me you don’t want more.”

You swallow harshly. “I want more.”

“Tell me you’re sorry you made me stop kissing you.”

“Please, kiss me, Joel.”

“You’re not very good at followin’ directions, are you?” he says, grinning, and you can’t help but laugh into the kiss when he pulls you in.

His lips are soft, deliberate when they meet yours. He coaxes you open, makes you slow down, pulls you into it so you feel it entirely. Reminds you of what you were missing when you forbade him from kissing you.

God, you missed it so much. Missed him.

Joel’s arms wind around your waist, his hands sliding along the fabric of your coat, and it’s so cold but god you wish you had less layers on right now. You’re sure the warmth of his hands could keep you from hypothermia.

“I’m sorry I forbade you from kissing me,” you say.

He hums, “I guess I can forgive you. Might need some convincing.”

“Oh shut up,” you grin, and pull him back in again.

“I hate pretending like I don’t love you,” he murmurs against your lips, hands gripping your waist.

“You… really love me?”

“Did you not hear my speech earlier?”

“I did. I just… can’t really believe it.”

He pulls you in close and gently grasps your jaw with his large hands. He kisses you again, thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

His lips find the corner of your mouth. “I love you,” he says.

A kiss to your cheek. “I love you.”

A kiss to your eyelid. “I love you.”

When he pulls back, he’s smiling again. It’s strange to see Joel smile. He really doesn’t do it often around anyone. But you guess you’re an exception.

All that time you had spent pushing him away, agonizing over how much you loved him, fearing that he’d leave you if you so much had hinted that you were in love with him, only for him to be in love with you all this time? Holy shit. The world feels like it’s turned upside down.

“Okay, I think I believe you now,” you say in a laugh.

“You haven’t said it back, which I guess is alright—“

“I love you too, Joel,” you interrupt.

He softens again. “I love you,” he murmurs, and pulls you in again for another toe curling kiss. God, you were an idiot for making him stop.

He wipes the tears from your eyes with a calloused thumb. “Your face paint is smudgin’.”

“It was a stupid costume anyway.”

“No, it's cute. But…” Joel glances about, lips quirking in a smirk. He leans down, and his voice is so low you almost don’t hear it. “I think it would look better on my floor.”

“Well…” you fight the grin on your face, delighting in the heat curling low within you. “I guess since you love me and we’re kissing again and aren’t exactly friends anymore… we could really put that statement to the test.”

“I think we should,” he says, and leans down to kiss your neck.

You hum in approval. “What about Ellie?”

“She had plans to go to Dina’s after the festival,” he says, between kisses. “Come over, please? Or do I need to send you a letter with a wax stamp and everythin’?”

“Well… since you said please, I guess that will do.”

The whole walk to his place he has his arm slung about your waist, proudly displaying that you’re his.

You nuzzle yourself into his side, grateful for his warmth and companionship. Your heart feels so full, so light, as if you might actually drift up into the air. Thank god Joel is holding you to keep you grounded.

You smile at Maria and Tommy when you pass by them, and they exchange a look that says something like Finally.

Then you’re at his house, and he’s unlocking the door and letting you go in first. And this time when you’re welcomed inside, you’re no longer worrying about rules or how you feel, or how you might fuck this up. It’s so fucking freeing.

Joel doesn’t ravish you the moment the door closes. Instead, he kind of just stares at you.

You squirm under his attention, growing self conscious. “What?”

He smiles, hands gravitating to your hips. “Nothin’. I just love you.”

You grin. “I love you too.”

He kisses you again, and you don’t think you could ever get enough of it. You kisses you roughly against the door, hips colliding with yours, over and over, and soon enough you’re shaking with want. Mind muddled, whispering a single word into his ear, “Bedroom.”

It feels different here this time. All those times in the past had felt restrained, now, everything feels exactly as it should.

When before you used to strip down quickly just to get him inside you, this time, you both take your time. He carefully unwraps you like a present as he noses kisses down your throat. He peels your thick black sweater off, and slides the straps of your bra down your shoulders, his dark eyes locked with yours. Joel reaches behind you and undoes the clasp with ease. You can hardly hold back your shaky sigh.

Your hands smooth over his sweater-clad chest before pulling it up and over his head. That jagged scar is there on his stomach, a reminder of everything he’s been through. You run your hand along it, and he shudders.

“Sit down,” he says.

You sit on the edge of the bed, and he kneels before you. Then, he grabs your boot-clad foot and sets it on his thigh. He undoes the laces and carefully takes the boot off. He does the other, and then hooks his fingers around your waistband and pulls it and your panties off together.

“I was right,” he says. “It really does look better on my floor.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, and pull him back into you. His lips catch yours gently, but the kiss intensifies when your mouth parts eagerly as his tongue swipes across the seam of your lips. His tongue slips in, and a moan tumbles out of you as your hands scrabble at his shoulder blades, your nails lightly scratching over thin scars.

His nose squishes against your cheek, and his large, hot hands slide up and down your body, like he just can’t keep them still. Like he wants to catalog all of you right now, remember it forever.

He rocks against you, still confined in his jeans, but you can feel the hard shape of him brushing against your sensitive core, the friction incredibly delicious. Your hands find his button and zipper, undoing them both with as much concentration as you can muster, though it’s really difficult when he’s kissing you like you contain all of the world’s oxygen.

Finally, he allows you to breathe, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin of your throat as he mouths hot kisses down your skin. He grips one of your thighs, setting it against his hip, large, rough fingers splaying across the whole of it. God, you love how easily you fit in his palms.

He grinds his hips into you over and over and you moan, aching for the feel of him inside you. You tug at his waistband again. “Joel, please take these off already.”

“Not yet,” he says, and releases your leg, his hand skating across the skin of your thigh, brushing gently along, making you shudder in his hold. You can feel the warmth of his fingers as he nears where you want him most.

And then, his fingers are on you, swirling in gentle circles, unraveling you at the seams. Your head hits the mattress and your back arches. He knows exactly what to do to make you putty in his hands, has had so much time to practice. But this time, it feels so much better, knowing now that he loves you. That you’re more than just friends.

Your palms find his face and you pull him in for a slow, meaningful kiss, trying to tell him just how thankful you are for him. How glad you are that he loves you. How sorry you are for not letting him kiss you. It’s kind of hard to kiss him, though, when he’s making you feel this good. Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging at it, and he moans into your mouth.

He slips one, two fingers inside you, pumping them at a steady pace that has your hands gripping his hair tightly and your hips scrabbling for that pleasant release dangling in front of you. He urges you on with encouraging, quiet words, his dark eyes boring into yours. Your mind, body, and soul feel hot.

When his thumb finds your clit it’s only moments until you’re shattering against him, warmth flooding your body. Your hips jerk, your legs shaking as he takes you over the edge.

“Pants off. Now,” you huff between breaths, and he finally listens.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then, he shifts you up the bed… it reminds you of the first time the two of you had sex again after he was so busy. So much the same yet so different. His hand moves up your body, cups one of your breasts, kneading it gently. When his thumb ghosts over your nipple, you shiver.

“You’re so beautiful, darlin’,” he murmurs, and grasps your knee, pulling it over his hip.

And then he’s sliding in, and the stretch is blissful, so welcome, so familiar and yet so new. You hold onto him, keeping him close as he begins to move. You feel full, mind faraway with bliss.

“God, Joel-“ you hiss.

He groans out your name, and it rumbles through you like rolling thunder. Lightning lights a fuse at the end of your spine.

You’re out of control. He tends to do that to you. Make you angry, make you sad, draw all the emotions you tend to not want to deal with out of you. Frustrates you, makes you so hungry with want that you throw all semblance of rational thought away. And he likes it. You like it.

God, you love him so much.

You move together as one, pushing and pulling. Everything shrinks down to just this. Him. You. Where your bodies meet.

“More,” you moan, and he huffs out a laugh, but obliges, thrusting into you deeper, harder, and you’re as tight as a bowstring.

Every anxious thought, every worry, every single doubt dissipates with every movement of his hips. You shift your own to meet his thrusts, and soon he’s gasping into your skin, growling your name. His hand winds into your hair, and he breathes with you, eyes locked with yours.

“Come on, baby,” he murmurs. “Come for me.”

Well, who are you to deny him? He pushes you over the edge in an instant, your body going taught, eyes rolling back into your head. His name flows out of you like a mantra.

Joel. Joel. Joel. Joel.

“I love you,” he says into your throat when he follows you, hips jerking with sloppy thrusts as he comes inside you.

Joel collapses next to you, pulling you into him, his arm slung heavily across your waist. When you can finally catch your breath, you say, “I love you, too.”

His grin is sated, eyes heavy when he pulls you in for another deep kiss. “We’ve said that a lot, huh?”

“Just making up for lost time. I think it’s alright.”

“I should’ve said it a lot sooner,” he says, calloused fingers brushing against your cheek as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Me too. Telling you not to kiss me was really dumb.”

“Probably not the smartest thing you’ve said.”

You scoff in mock offense, pushing at his shoulder. “Asshole.”

“Yeah, but you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but scoot further into him, laying your head on his chest.

It might have been a risk to fall in love with your best friend, but God, you’re glad you did.

“Yeah, I really do.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #game joel miller #hbo joel miller #this is trouble

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ladykailitha · 2 months

Text

The Harrington Pattern Part 7

Hello! It's Tuesday and that means more Steve and Eddie. And it's looking like the story will end in chapter 12. It might take one more than that, but it's definitely almost done.

So what will that mean? Well, I'll start working on working on another story to bring it back up to two, but will still only work on the others on WIP Wednesday because I'm trying to get down the amount of WIPs I have running. I have far too many.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Day two of the Fair. Will sees Steve and Steve reveals a little trick. And Steve has to be stern mom again.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Steve picked up his usual set and went to the Renaissance Fair. This time they were the first to arrive and they stood there waiting for the rest of them to show up.

He had left the spirit gum with Mrs Sinclair and she was able to do an even better job then he had yesterday putting the ears back on.

The bow and quiver had been left behind today because sadly the poor bow had been a mangled, tangled mess by the time they left the fair yesterday.

Max and Robin’s cutlasses had fared better because they never left their sides, but even slung over Lucas’s shoulder, the poor aluminum just couldn’t bare the brunt of the crowds. And today was going to be even busier.

Steve looked at his watch and then back at the growing crowd waiting in line.

He tapped his foot nervously when he saw the familiar van pull into the lot. And the merry band of fellows hopped out, wearing the outfits they had yesterday. The ones that made Steve green with envy on how well they were put together.

It was like they had just walked off the set of a Hollywood movie.

He was good with a needle and thread, but whoever made their costumes should be making money off it, they were that talented.

Jeff came around to the other side of the van where Steve could see him and his ears looked great too.

“Looking good, Lawrence,” Steve whistled. “The ears are vastly improved.”

Jeff bowed dramatically. “Why thank you, my liege! I had my sister help me pick out the right color and type I needed and then I did it myself.”

Gareth snorted. “After practicing all night.”

Brian elbowed their youngest member. “It’s just like trying to get a beat right, you have to practice. Don’t give him shit for that.”

Gareth grumbled, but muttered a half-hearted apology to Jeff. The older teen just grinned at his friend.

Which after how crazy yesterday was, Steve wasn’t looking forward to a repeat if Jeff took offense to Gareth’s comment.

Eddie had been unusually quiet during this conversation, so while they milled around waiting for the remaining third of their group, Steve came up to him.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, leaning down and forward to get a better look at the metalhead.

Eddie pursed his lips, but he nodded.

“You know, I have been dying to ask...”

Eddie smiled softly. “Who’s my tailor?”

Steve cackled. “Yeah, that. God, I would gleefully sacrifice one of the teenagers for the material alone, let alone the thread.”

“Which one?” Eddie asked, coming a little bit more out of his shell.

Steve reared back his head. “What?”

“Which one of the teenagers you would sacrifice?” Eddie asked again.

“Dustin,” Steve said without hesitation. “I figure virgin,” he counted on his fingers, “check, most annoying, check, and the one who would be the biggest... ‘value’ as it were, double check.”

Eddie laughed outright. “You don’t have to sacrifice any of them. Brian’s sister works at a big theater, the kind that do plays, as their costumer.”

Steve sighed and rubbed a bit of the black velvet between his thumb and forefinger. “You guys are so lucky.”

Eddie laughed again. “Trust me, even Bri had to pay for the privilege.”

Steve’s eyes lit up. “Oh?”

“Yup!” Eddie said, rocking back on his heels. “We had to pay for all the material and patterns ourselves, plus at least twenty-five percent of labor. These duds may be pretty, but lo they be also pricey.”

“Well, it was certainly worth it,” Steve murmured. “You guys look fantastic.”

Eddie’s cheeks colored a pretty pink. “Thanks. Um...mine is actually based on a character from a short story. Brian’s mom is Polish, but she loves sc-fi and fantasy so she gets this magazine, right?” Steve nodded. “So, anyway she’ll translate into English for Brian to read. It’s about this male witch and he has this minstrel friend named Jeskier...” he pronounced it strange, like yes-keer. “I’m probably pronouncing it wrong. But he’s so cool.”

“So you’re this minstrel guy?” Steve asked, suddenly understanding.

Eddie hummed excitedly. “Brian even went as one of the male witches. Not the main one though. But it’s still fun, you know?”

Steve smiled back. “Yeah. I never would have thought about going as a specific character before. Maybe we can plan something for next year.”

Whatever cloud leftover that was lingering over Eddie vanished in the light of Steve’s bright smile.

Eddie bumped his shoulder into Steve’s. “What’s on the docket today, pretty boy?”

Steve blushed bright red, but before he could answer, Claudia’s station wagon pulled up next to them. The four kids piled out, happily chatting and laughing. Well all but Mike.

Mike had always been a reserved kid, but as he got older, the more withdrawn he seemed to get. Will seemed to do the opposite. The kid was really coming out of his shell and into himself. And maybe that was the reason for Mike’s shrinking back.

Steve just shook his head and turned to Will. “Still no Jonathan?” he teased.

Will rolled his eyes. “He said and I quote ‘I’ll see about maybe Saturday’.”

Steve winced. He couldn’t make Jonathan come, but he could see how much Jonathan coming would mean so much to Will and it made his heart hurt just a little.

“Can’t force someone to have fun,” he said with a shrug. “It really is his loss.”

Will nodded sagely, like the mature person he was forced to become far too soon. “But! He did give me the ten dollars I needed for the staff to make up for it.”

Steve smiled. All right, maybe Steve didn’t have to stop by and give the elder Byers boy a piece of his mind.

He turned to Eddie. “Hey, you want to traverse the fields of commerce with me and Will to go get his staff?”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yeah! I didn’t get to go yesterday.”

Will grinned back. He turned to El and Mike. “You going to come with me. right?”

Mike shook his head. “El wanted to see the weavers this morning, but no one else wanted to go with her and with Steve’s dumb rule...”

“It’s not dumb,” Steve said. “Just because the Upside Down is gone, doesn’t mean there aren’t things that can hurt you.”

“We’re fifteen,” Mike protested. “I think that’s old enough to go by ourselves.”

Steve looked around at the other kids and they were all looking everywhere but at him. “May I remind you that we are literally standing on the ground where human monsters were trying to open a gate? Bad guys come in all shapes and sizes and even if you think you’re safe, is El? Or Will?”

The kids looked down at their feet and mumbled their apologies.

“I just want everyone safe and having a good time,” Steve finished. “You guys can do whatever you want, but do you know who your parents would blame if something happened to you?”

Dustin raised his head sharply. “But there are other adults here, why would they blame you?”

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. “Because I’m the fucking babysitter.” He walked off to get in line and everyone just followed behind quietly, suddenly somber.

Robin fell in step next to Steve and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Hey, dingus.”

Steve just ducked his head.

“It’s just a tricky age. You remember what it was like at their age,” she murmured.

“I was getting drunk every weekend, smoking, and having sex,” Steve grumbled. “I don’t want that for them.”

Robin kissed his cheek. “You’re sweet. But they’re going to have to figure it out on their own.”

Steve’s shoulders rounded. “I just want to them to have fun and we keep having knock out drag out fights before we go in and I–” he left out a deep sigh.

“You can’t be held responsible for what they do,” she said.

He snorted. “Tell that to Joyce or Claudia. Just because I’m the oldest.”

She hugged him tightly. “You’re not anymore and you know Eddie would do anything for those kids, too. Plus, this is exactly why you told them to find any adult. Let all of us help shoulder the load, too.”

Steve let out a low shuddering breath. “I’ll try. I just keep butting heads with Mike. Always Mike. And I don’t know what to do, he’s just so prickly and even outright hostile.”

“So don’t do anything,” Robin suggested.

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Let Eddie handle it,” she said. “He did a fine job yesterday. So let him do it again.”

Steve pressed his lips together and then nodded. “Okay.”

She kissed his cheek again and went back to talk to Eddie. Steve paid again for the tickets. Well, not all of them. Thankfully Eddie and his friends were paying their own way.

He turned to Will. “You ready to go get your staff?” He smiled broadly to hide the hurt of Mike’s rebellion.

Will smiled back. “Hell yeah!”

Eddie came bounding up to them. “I’ll meet you at the shop, there’s something I need to do really quick about tomorrow. They’ve messed up the schedule and me and Jeff have to go see someone about it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, just ask Jeff where the shop is, he should remember which one.”

Eddie smiled again. “You betcha, big boy.” He flounced back to Jeff and Steve watched him walk away.

When he turned back to Will, the young man was looking at him with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

Will furrowed his brows. “I’m trying to decide if you know about...” he pursed his lips trying to find a way to say what he meant without outing Steve in public. “What you feel about a certain someone?”

Steve looked back at where Eddie had melted into the crowd and then back at this all too perceptive boy. He put his arm around Will and started them walking toward the shop.

“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” Steve started slowly, “I’ve known I like both for awhile now. It was just easier to focus on the one. The one that was socially acceptable, you know?”

Will nodded. “I can see that. And then he came barreling into our lives and a good kind of upside down happened?”

Steve smiled fondly. “Yeah. He is so sweet. He’s everything I thought I wanted in Nancy.”

Will grinned. “You do have a type.”

He scuffed Will’s hair a bit. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walked in silence for awhile before Steve spoke up again.

“I feel I should give you a heads up before we get to the shop,” he said with a wince.

Will looked over at him in confusion.

“I may have talked the merchant in to holding it for you by giving them a ten dollar deposit to hold it.”

Will’s jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

Steve laughed. “No, not really. By I can be persuasive and he was willing to do me the favor.”

“Thanks, Steve,” Will murmured. “You’ve done so much for us, I think we take you for granted sometimes.”

Steve half shrugged. “My parents suck and while some of you have actually decent parents and older siblings, I don’t mind being the babysitter the one you guys look up to and come to for advice.”

Will smiled. “Any tips on how to tell your best friend you have a crush on them?”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Look, the one time I did that I was drugged up on truth serum and literally couldn’t lie. I don’t think that’s going to help you.”

“Too bad Robin bats for the other team,” he said with a smile.

Steve smiled back. “Nah, I think her telling me that is what made it easier for me to realize that having those feelings can’t make you a bad person. Not when she was so amazing.”

Will cocked his head to the side. “That’s fair.”

“Come on you,” Steve said, “let’s go get you this wizard staff.”

Will stopped in his tracks. “You said it right. You never say the DnD terms right.”

Steve raised a finger up to his lips and winked. “I do it because it drives Dustin up the wall and Eddie just loves explaining it to me, so I kill two birds with one stone.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, okay.”

As they wove their way through the crowd, Will smiled to himself. Steve and Eddie both liked boys, knew they liked boys, and were still unapologetically themselves. And maybe he could be too.

But first, he was going to get that wicked staff he saw yesterday because he had two brothers looking out for him. His biological one and Steve. Someone who cared so deeply that even when he should have walked away, he stayed.

And Will always could use more people that just...stayed.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

For those that don't know "The Witcher" was an original short story in a Polish sci-fi/magazine in 1985. I couldn't figure out if Jeskier was in the original tale, so shush if he isn't.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @thespaceantwhowrites @paintgonewrong @mogami13 @beelze-the-bubkiss @croatoan-like-its-hot @retro-vagabond @sani-86 @pansexuality-activated @y4r3luv @dauntlessdiva @vampire-eddie-brain-rot

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #steve is a history nerd

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mins-fins · 5 months

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PAREIDOLIA (D.SC)

SUMMARY . . . history just simply always manages to repeat itself, the artist and their tired university student roommate who just can't help but admire them in ways friends don't look at each other..

PAIRING . . . dong sicheng x male!reader

GENRE . . . insanely fluffy

WARNINGS . . . none!

WORD COUNT . . . 1.8k

NOTES . . . why is winwin so majestic tf 🙁 my wayv bias is yangyang i have NO IDEA what you're talking about, im so mortifyingly in love with winwin but not in a "i want to kiss him" way in a "i wanna bake him cookies and run my fingers through his hair" way and that's basically the same thing

sicheng has become long used to coming home and seeing y/n in the middle of another artistic project. it's usually a painting, because that's the easiest thing to do in their small apartment, one the two of them fought tooth and nail to be able to afford. on some days he'll be creating costumes out of construction paper, or he'll be sewing, or he'll just be sketching on the couch.

it's become somewhat of a staple of comfort to him, maybe it's because of how recognizable it is to come home and see y/n, eyebrows furrowed, head tilted, the slightest smudge of paint on his face as his eyes are completely focused on the canvas before him. there's always a small smile that comes to his face whenever he hears the door open, sicheng only catches it on the most certain of days, though.

and maybe it's weird that sicheng remembers every single detail of what happens after he comes home from exhausting classes where all his professor does is talk about is nonsense, this is kind of like the only silver lining to his day after hours of just nothing but life draining lectures.

and no it's definitely not because y/n is just the best serotonin every single feeling sicheng has for him is completely platonic and platonic only!

it's as he's untying his shoes, that he realizes today something is different. y/n is humming, to a song the two of them hear their neighbors blast through the walls every now and then, he assumes the tune got stuck in his head, and he just can't help but now him it to himself.

sicheng puts his shoes away, he glances up for a moment, and pauses, waiting. he then smiles to himself as he watches y/n smile himself, finally acknowledging his presence. "i didn't even hear you, the door closed so quietly".

y/n's comment makes him snicker, but his eyes still don't leave the canvas, so focused on what he's painting in fact that he doesn't register the paint on his cheek. sicheng, like he does on most days, walks up towards y/n and quickly wipes off the paint with his thumb.

y/n makes a small noise, but he ultimately doesn't shy away from sicheng's hand, almost leaning into the touch if sicheng thinks about it. "how do you never notice when you have paint on your face?" sicheng asks, going over to the sink to wash the paint off his thumb.

"an artist never strays away from their artistic craft" y/n comments mindlessly, and sicheng's eyebrows furrow just for a mere moment before he looks back to his roommate, still focused on the random color he's spreading across the canvas.

"did you just make that up, or..?" at the question, y/n finally turns around after what seemed like hours of standing in the same spot, and he snickers at the way sicheng asks it.

"yep, made it up just now".

the response makes sicheng snort, because he knows that's absolutely true considering the kind of person y/n is. "you.. your something alright" sicheng doesn't know why those words are the ones that come out of his mouth, but they make y/n laugh.

"ah thanks, you make me feel so smart, chengie" y/n looks back to the painting, stepping back just a little bit to admire it. he removes his gloves and tosses them away, yawning lightly. "does it look nice?"

sicheng blinks, glancing over at y/n, who is patiently waiting for his answer. he mindlessly stares at the painting of a snowy mountaintop as he tries to think of a compliment he hasn't said thousands of times already. "it's marvelous" y/n gives him a look of confusion, and sicheng just snickers as he does those jazz hands.

"you couldn't at least be a little bit more creative with your compliment?" y/n's face scrunches a little bet, and sicheng just shrugs, rubbing his eyes.

"i'm tired i don't have time for creativity" sicheng yawns, and y/n gives him another judgmental look. "ask me when i'm more awake" he shouts as he walks towards his room, leaving y/n to admire his painting all alone.

y/n snickers, shaking his head.

what a character you are, dong sicheng..

"do you assume van gogh was a weird guy?"

sicheng barely registers the question, because the only sound he's heard for the past twenty minutes is the horribly loud clicking of y/n's pen as he brainstorms ideas for upcoming projects, assignments, and all that other stuff. he narrows his eyes at his laptop screen before looking up at y/n, who was finally done clicking his pen and began sketching.

"what?" is his immediate response, probably because he didn't have enough time to properly assess or process that question. the other thing that being y/n's roommate comes with is having to hear the most random and weird questions. "i'm sorry?"

"van gogh" y/n says again, smiling innocently. "you know, the painter gu—"

"i know who van gogh is y/n" sicheng clarifies, sighing. "i just— what do you think i know about the personality of a famous artist who died over a hundred years ago?" he raises an eyebrow, momentarily glancing back down at his computer screen as he hears y/n's loud sigh.

"i'm researching about him for this project i'm doing".

"you did a project about van gogh already.." sicheng mutters in confusion, and he hears y/n's pen click once again, then the slam of his sketchbook. "didn't you?"

"oh this isn't for school!" y/n exclaims. "i'm just doing it for fun!"

"what kind of psycho does a project for fun?" at the words, y/n snorts, and sicheng can't help but gaze at him. yeah, it's stupid, but he's just so cute, and sicheng has no idea why he's staring this long at him.

fuck, i probably look crazy. i'm literally zoning out on his face, what kind of moron does that?

at least he's self aware.

"nothing?"

"what?"

"on van gogh?" y/n clarifies, and sicheng blinks like an idiot, because what else would y/n be talking about? he shakes his head, and y/n pouts in an unserious manner.

"at least your here to humor me" y/n says, picking his sketchbook back up as he begins flipping through it, he pauses at a certain page and smiles brightly at what's sketched on it.

sicheng doesn't really know what y/n draws in his sketchbook. y/n is pretty big on privacy, so sicheng never made it his thing to figure out what's in y/n's sketchbook because he doesn't want him to.

though, the way y/n's smiling at his sketchbook gets him curious.

"are the sketches causing you that much joy?"

y/n snaps up, his face going embarrassingly red as he closes his sketchbook once again. he smiles, then awkwardly laughs as he looks away, lightly scratching his arm. "yeah, um.. i just really like the sketches i made".

sicheng laughs, glancing back at his computer screen. it's so hard not to constantly stare at you when your.. well— you.

but they're just friends, nothing more.

"when i was younger i always wanted a garden of strawberries" y/n states as he paints said garden of strawberries on the canvas in front of him.

y/n is always the most busy on weekends with his artistic projects. he'll legitimately spend half of his day painting, another half making a halloween costume even though halloween won't come for the next seven months, and the other half sewing a sweater he's going to wear once every few months. sicheng has seen it all, and he's gotten used to the normalization of y/n just doing another artistic craft everyday, still being able to rest a whole eight hours.

he admires his way of just being such.. what is the phrase, a hard worker, he could say. y/n was just always up, doing something, he was never bored or not doing something, he was very much just an always working person.

"strawberries? out of everything?" sicheng asks, stirring the spoon in his cup of coffee mindlessly, he's too busy staring at y/n to pay attention to his now cooling cup of coffee. y/n gives him one of the most judgmental looks ever.

"what do you mean? out of everything? strawberries are amazing!" y/n counters, and sicheng laughs at his tone of voice. "they're one of the best things mankind has ever actually made".

"okay but why a garden of them?"

"so i can make strawberry flavored things everyday, duh" y/n dismisses the amount of red coloring on his apron, and his gloves, too busy trying to figure out how to finish his painting of his dream garden of strawberries.

y/n narrows his eyes at the painting, studying it for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if the painting was talking to him or not. "is this ugly?"

"what?"

"the painting? is it ugly?"

sicheng furrows his eyebrows, staring at y/n like he just asked the stupidest question in the world. y/n usually doesn't care about his opinion when it comes to paintings, because sicheng isn't an artist like he is, so sicheng has no idea why he would suddenly ask him about what he thought about his painting so suddenly.

"no? your paintings are never ugly.. why would you ask that?"

sicheng's question-answer makes y/n narrow his eyes at him. sicheng assumes he wasn't expecting that answer that then turned into a question, with the way he goes silent, and with the way his face flushes so much more obviously than it usually does.

sicheng doesn't get why he notices that the most, y/n is pretty unpredictable, he gets flustered at some of the most random times, and it's only at certain moments that sicheng notices how red his face is.

it's hot in the room, that's it, that's why, there is absolutely no other reason his face is so red right now.

he's just thinking of excuses.

"thank you" he whispers, turning back to his painting as he removes his paint splattered gloves. "it's a new day, i just wanted your opinion".

"that's strange".

"well if i'm not strange then i'm not interesting" y/n hums as he puts the finishing touches on his painting, and with his back turned, sicheng can admire him fully, without worrying about him getting caught and then having to explain why he was staring for so long.

sicheng is so busy admiring him, he doesn't even notice that he hasn't taken a sip of his coffee yet.

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babybluebex · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 | 𝐣𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐡 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you ask joseph if he can fuck you in character as eddie, and he’s more than happy to do it. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | joseph quinn (rpf) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut (minors dni, oral m!receiving, p in v sex, unprotected sex, doggy style) degradation kink, he’s a sweetheart 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | i’ve had this idea for a while and i finally got it down on paper hehe enjoy!

“You want me to do what?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, don’t act like that,” you huffed. “It was just a thought, take it or leave it.”

Joseph’s eyes were wide as he considered the offer you had just laid at his feet and, for as good of an actor as he was, you had no idea what emotion he was trying to convey with furrowed eyebrows and moonish eyes and an agape mouth. “Repeat that,” he said finally.

“What?” you asked. “I want you to fuck me in character. You act like I’ve asked something monstrous of you.”

“No, no, it’s just…” Joe began, and he laughed. “Eddie is so different from me. I didn’t think you’d like him at all.”

“I do,” you admitted. “He’s just so sweet.”

“And you want to fuck him?” Joe asked with a lilting laugh. At least he seemed amused by the idea. “In costume and everything?”

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly, lightly chewing at your fingernails. “Look, Joey, it took a lot of courage for me to even ask, so if you’re gonna tease me about it—”

“No!” Joe said quickly, and he moved to sit next to you on the bed. The trailer was small, obviously not built for more than one person, but you and Joe made it work.

You had only seen him in costume once, when he popped by the trailer during lunch to grab his phone charger, and the sight of the long hair and the tattoos had done something to you. You couldn’t stop thinking about it, and, as lovely as your Joe was, you wanted to see if he would even agree to something like that.

“Listen, I-I like the idea,” Joe told you. “I was just surprised. Are you sure it’s something you want?”

“I’m sure,” you told him. He put his strong arms around you and carefully tugged you to sit on his lap, and you tossed your arms around his neck, smiling at him. “Is that a yes? You’ll do it?”

Joe sucked at the back of his teeth, and he nodded. “You’re persuasive,” he told you, and his hand lightly touched your cheek, his thumb moving back and forth on the high point of your face. “Do you wanna plan it, or let it be a surprise?”

“Surprise me,” you said. “Surprise me with Eddie.”

“I’ll be sure to,” Joe told you, and he kissed you softly, his perfect pink lips pressing and molding to yours. He tasted like cigarettes, even though he swore up and down that he would quit, but you didn’t mind it really. It was just so perfect and so Joe that it made your head spin if you thought about it too hard.

The next day passed with no Eddie appearance, and so did the next. Your time on set was coming to an end soon— visiting from London for a week didn’t exactly give you a lot of time with him, especially with the shooting schedule being so hectic, sometimes 12 hour days that spanned all night and left your Joey incredibly tired when he schlumped into the trailer at 6AM— and you almost worried that he had forgotten. You didn’t want to remind him, though; you didn’t want to lump another thing onto his back. Even if it never came to fruition, you decided, the fact that he said he would try meant the world to you.

Finally, the day before your flight back home, your last dinner with Joe, it happened. You stepped into the trailer and slung your bag down, and you settled on the sofa before you took notice of a smell. It wasn’t a bad smell, just different, and you quickly identified it.

Cologne. Not the Dior stuff that you were used to Joe wearing, but something that stung a little in your nose, something cheap. And a hint of cigarettes, maybe? Cheap cologne and cigarettes. Your eyes widened, and you called out “Joey? Oh, umm… Eddie?”

There was a commotion from behind the closed door that led to the itty bitty bedroom, and you heard a distinctly non-South London voice call back to you. “One sec, sweetheart!” he said in a pitch-perfect American accent, and your heart fell into your stomach. It was happening. He was doing this for you.

The door slid open, and your mouth fell agape at the sight before you. Your prim and proper Joseph was completely transformed, long hair that framed his jaw and touched his shoulders, curled like his real hair but much darker than his, wearing ripped jeans and white tennis shoes and that distinctive black and white Hellfire Club shirt. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows to show off the tattoos that he now had on his arms, and you could see one peeking out the top of his shirt. The rings on his fingers made you shiver, and, everything added altogether, you couldn’t believe that he was actually doing this for you.

“There she is,” he said with a wide smile, and he came to stand in front of you. His belt was right in your eyeline, and your eyes widened at the handcuff belt buckle. Jesus. Your mouth went dry and you swallowed, and you looked up at Joe with wide eyes. “What do you think, babe?”

“You look…” you started, and you struggled for the right word. “Hot.”

“Well, I know that,” Joe said and rolled his eyes. “You like what you see, huh?”

You stretched out your hands to touch him, and you hooked your fingers in his belt and tugged him a step closer. He laughed under his breath as you touched him all over, your hands wandering from his thighs to his stomach and to his neck, and you tugged up his shirt to see the demon and the spider tattoos on his chest. “Oh, yeah,” Joe chuckled, still stuck in the accent. “Aren’t these tats sweet?”

“This is so weird,” you laughed lightly, and you placed a kiss on Joe's belly before you let his shirt fall back down. “Oh my God, Joey…”

“Who’s Joey?” Joe asked, his eyebrows furrowing. “Have you been seein’ other guys behind my back?”

“Never, my love,” you told him, and you stood up and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’d never do that. I only want my Eddie.”

“Good,” Joe told you, and he brushed a kiss across your lips. “‘Cause I only want my sweetheart.”

Your lips tingled with his kiss, and you couldn’t help the heat that was quickly invading your body. He was hot. Your Joey was everything to you, he was incredibly sexy and smart and attractive and kind and every good thing that could be said about a person, but Eddie was different. Eddie was a different sort of sexy, in a way that seemed almost dangerous, like he would bend you over the counter and fuck you at any second.

“Speaking of,” Joe began, kissing your cheek softly. “My dick is hard as fuck. Think you can help with that?”

“God!” you laughed, your face heating up. “Blunt.”

“You know how us Americans are,” Joe laughed, his cheeks tinging pink. “We’re nothing if not blunt. C’mon, sweetheart, I know how bad you wanna suck me off.”

“I do,” you admitted. “But maybe I just wanna kiss you first. Say hi properly, y’know?”

“Sure,” Joe replied, and he slotted his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing your ass for a moment. “Hi there.”

“Hi,” you giggled, and you leaned up to kiss him again. “How’re you doing?”

“M’fine,” Joe shrugged. “Couldn’t wait to get a break and come see you.”

“How long do we have?” you asked.

“Just under an hour,” Joe told you, his big eyes sparkling at you. At least he didn’t have to wear any colored contacts for Eddie; if you didn’t see his wide brown eyes, you would be too sad. “Think that’s enough time?”

“Oh, definitely,” you nodded. “So I guess I’ve gotta get to work, right?”

“Yeah,” Joe nodded. “Sooner, the better.”

You kissed him one last time, and your hands went to the handcuff belt buckle, opening his pants to you. Even a brush of your hand across his pants had him hissing in a breath, and he mumbled, “Don’t you fuckin’ tease me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not,” you giggled, and Joe’s hand came to grab your chin, and he forced you to look at him. There was something different in his eyes, something a little darker than you were used to, but the intensity only made your cunt twitch.

“Fuckin’ talking back,” Joe said. “Don’t make me get mean with you. Just suck my dick, baby.”

“I like you like this,” you blurted out, and your face went even warmer as Joe’s eyes widened for just a moment.

“Yeah?” He asked, and you smiled as his true accent crept through for just a moment.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Kinda mean. I like it.”

“I can do mean,” Joe said, fixing himself and settling back fully into Eddie. His shoulders went back and he stood up straighter, and you grinned as your sweet Joey disappeared under the blanket of Eddie once more. “C’mon, we don’t have all day, princess, get down there.”

“Yes, sir,” you giggled, and you quickly worked yourself to your knees, fully undoing his belt and unzipping his pants.

“I like sir, that’s cute,” Joe said, and his hand cradled your cheek as you pulled out his cock. He was right; he was hard as fuck. His cock felt like hot steel, all hard ridges and veins as it twitched in your hand, and you were quick to put your mouth on him, suckling at the uncut head of his cock.

You heard his breath catch in his throat at your small movements, and you took him a bit deeper as his hand came to your head. His fingers itched in your hair for a moment before taking hold and tugging you further onto his cock. You groaned in the back of your throat as you eagerly sucked him, and you hollowed your cheeks out to hug his cock tight. He was hot and heavy on your tongue, already leaking precum, and the taste of it made you moan softly.

“Oh, you like that?” Joe asked, looking down at you, and you looked at him through your eyelashes. “Fuck, look at you. Take it, just like that…” He moaned, long and low in his chest, as your tongue massaged his cock, and he mumbled out, “Fuck, sweetheart, your mouth’s so good.”

You fell off of his cock with a gasp, the sticky precum mixing with your spit and dripping off your lips and his cock, and Joe let go of your hair to cradle the back of your head with his hand. “M’gonna fuck your face,” Joe said, and the roughness of his words combined with the American accent made your cunt throb and clench around nothing again. You were wet, you could feel it dampening your panties, and you wriggled a bit to get some kind of friction from your jeans. “Oh, what, baby? Need some attention?”

“Please,” you whimpered, and Joe smoothed his hand down to your neck, holding you firmly for a moment before he dropped from you completely.

“Get over to that bed,” he told you, and, when you stood, he landed a firm smack on your ass. “Go on, baby, I’ll be there in a sec. Undress for me, get all ready.”

“Can I touch myself?” you asked. Joe usually didn’t care about that sort of thing, but you were picking up the vibe that Eddie might care.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Good girl, asking for permission.”

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him as you did as he told you, and he watched you eagerly, stroking his cock. It was unbelievable how attractive Joe was as Eddie, and you reached out for him as you took off your shirt. “Kiss me, Eds, please,” you whined, and he stepped forward towards the bed, his hand still tight around his cock.

Joe leaned forward and quickly connected his lips to yours, his tongue immediately claiming your mouth. You moaned at how dominant he was, and Joe smiled as he broke the kiss. “You’re enjoying this a little too much,” he told you with a chuckle. “Never gonna want ole Joey again after this, only me, huh?”

“I’ll always want Joey,” you told him, and you planted your feet on the bed and shimmied out of your jeans. “Joey is kind and sweet and has a stellar cock, but one night with Eddie is… Fun.”

You watched as blush invaded Joe’s cheeks at your compliments, and you grinned as he nodded. His hands went to your body, and he smoothed his fingers up the sides of your body until he got to your bra, and he removed it with ease. Joe leaned forward and kissed you softly once more, and his mouth traveled to your neck in an instant. “You want a hickey?” he whispered, and you nodded quickly, your hands finally going to grab at his hair. The wig was surprisingly lifelike, and, to be honest, it sorta creeped you out, but Joe seemed to like when you tugged on it.

Joe’s hands went to your panties as he sucked hard at your neck, and your back arched into him. “Eddie,” you moaned softly, and Joe made a strangled noise deep in his chest.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he whispered, nipping at the mark on your neck. “Say my name, baby, let everyone know who you’re fucking.”

“Eddie,” you whined, and Joe tugged down your panties, discarding them off the side of the bed.

“Jesus Christ, look at you,” Joe chuckled, his eyes locking on your cunt. You squirmed a little under his gaze, and his strong hands came to grasp your thighs, holding your legs and cunt open for him. “This little pussy, already so messy and wet.”

Joe’s hand came to your pussy, and he tucked his thumb onto your clit, touching it just enough for you to jolt and moan. “Yeah, baby,” he whispered under his breath, and the sound of it made your cunt flutter and twitch. “Good girl, you’re all wet for me. You think you’re ready?” His fingers, adorned with those heavy silver rings, lightly swept up your pussy, collecting some of your slick on his fingertips, and the sight of his glistening fingers made you nod quickly.

“Fuck me,” you gasped, your chest heaving with anticipation. “Please, Eds, please fuck me.”

“Oh, baby, the whining,” Joe chuckled, taking hold of his cock once more. He stroked himself a few more times, watching your pussy wink and flutter at him, and he hissed in a breath. “Turn around,” he told you quickly. “Hands and knees, sweetheart.”

Your arms shook underneath you as you got into the position he asked, and you felt him grab a handful of your hair as the burning head of his cock slid up your pussy from behind you. Without warning, Joe snapped his hips forward, burying himself inside you in one swift movement, and you moaned in surprise. “Eddie!” you squealed, and his hand left your hair to press between your shoulder blades, urging you down until just your ass swayed in the air.

“Yeah, baby,” Joe mumbled, and he withdrew himself from you for a slow, agonizing second before filling you once more, his balls hitting your sticky cunt as he buried himself up to the hilt in you. The position made him feel so much deeper inside you, like he was fucking your throat, and you uselessly grabbed at the bedhseets to anchor yourself as he started to properly fuck you.

Joe grabbed your hips and fucked you back onto him, and you whimpered at the feeling of him. “Fuck,” you whined into the mattress, but Joe didn’t seem to hear you; if he did, he ignoeed you. His hand smoothed across your ass for a moment as he fucked you hard, the sound of your skin colliding making that hot coil in your belly tighten, and he finally smacked your ass hard.

You gasped in shock, and you dug your fingernails into the bed once the pain finally registered on your skin. “Eddie,” you moaned. “Fuck, baby.”

“I know,” Joe groaned, and he kept up his rhythm, spearing you hard onto his cock, the lewd wet noises of your pussy reverberating off of the walls of the bedroom. “So deep in your little pussy, huh? You like it like this?”

“Love it,” you whined. “Love your cock, Joey.”

Joe was quiet for a moment, obviously absorbing that you had said his name instead of Eddie’s, and he smacked your ass again when he recovered. “S’not my fucking name,” he said on a growl, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair and tugged your face out of the bed. “What’s my name, baby?”

“Eddie,” you gasped, and you reached back to touch him, any part of him. Your hand found his quickly, and he threaded your fingers together as he continued his nearly-punishing pace.

“Say it again,” Joe said. “Say it ‘til you forget that other guy’s name. It’s only Eddie, isn’t it, baby?”

“Eddie,” you said, and his hand squeezed yours tightly. “Eddie, fuck me, Eddie.”

“Glad to know you take directions,” Joe laughed, smacking your ass again. He let go of your hand and leaned forward, molding his front to your back, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you further into him. “Fuck, baby… Fuck.”

When he spoke next, you jumped. “Jesus, love… Hard to-to keep it together.” His accent broke through fully, dropping Eddie for a moment as he fucked you deep, and your cunt throbbed hard around his cock. You had already gotten so used to the Eddie voice, hearing Joe’s real voice was a shock.

“Do you need to stop?” you asked, and Joe shook his head.

“No, baby, I’m fine,” he said, his American accent back again. “Just keep hugging my dick like that, you’re gonna make me cum so hard.”

Your cunt pulsed at his words, and he buried his face in your neck to smother his loud moan. Joe had never been like this before, and it was absolutely a turn on for you, seeing how unhinged and frankly animal he was being.

“Eddie,” you whispered, reaching back and taking his hand again. “I love you.”

Joe groaned again, fucking you roughly as he held your hand, and, into your neck, he muttered, “I love you too, princess. God, fuckin’ love you so much.”

“Cum inside me,” you told him, and Joe kissed at your neck almost frantically, laying peck after peck onto your skin.

“Oh, no, I’m not,” Joe said. “I’m not cumming ‘til you do. Better speed it up, baby.” With that, he let go of your hand and reached forward, and you moaned high in your throat as his fingers started to play with your clit. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, and your hands went back to the blankets, grabbing them in your fists as your legs began to shake. The way he was fucking you, along with playing with your clit, and the overwhelming energy of feral Eddie, it was all so much, and you felt the hot coil in your stomach tighten and tighten until it threatened to burst with every fuck into your body that Joe gave you.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Joe muttered, his voice low and breaking. “Feel so good, this pussy, you take me so well. Are you getting close?”

“I’m gonna cum,” you hissed, reaching between your legs and grabbing at Joe’s wrist. The chain link bracelet he wore was cool to the touch, as were his rings, and you shined and pushed back against him as he fucked forward. You cried as you felt him deeper than ever before, the pain blossoming in your tummy and slowly melting into pleasure, and Joe laughed into your ear, taking the fleshy lobe into his mouth.

“Deep, baby?” he asked, and you nodded quickly. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” you sobbed. “But I like it, don’t stop, y-you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yes ma’am,” Joe chuckled, and he grabbed your hip and shoved you further back on him as he fucked you. The pain rocketed through you again, but it all settled in your pussy and clit, and you knew that you wouldn’t last much longer if he kept up with that. Everything all combined, his fingers on your throbbing clit and the punishing rhythm, it was too much, and you squeezed his wrist as the coil burst in your stomach and you came hard around him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joe laughed as your legs shook, and he added, “Good girl, milking my cock so good, fuck. Still want me to cum inside you?”

You felt lightheaded with the intensity of your orgasm, and you could only blearily nod at him. Every sense was jacked up to ten, and the feel of him inside your sensitive channel made you whimper and cry. “Fuck, J-Eddie, oh my God.”

“Aw, look at the mess you made,” Joe said, still fucking you just as hard as before. “So much cum… M’gonna give it to you, you ready?” You nodded quickly, squeezing his wrist again, and Joe finally let go of your clit to play with your fingers for a moment before he grabbed your hand hard. “Fuck, you’re perfect, baby, so fuckin’ perfect, good girl…”

He fucked into you one last time, burying himself as deep into your cunt as he could manage, and you gasped as he pumped you full of his cum. His body was warm against yours, his belt clinking as his hips stuttered, and your shaking legs finally gave out as he pulled out of you.

You laid in the bed, panting and trying to regain some of your brain, and you heard the sounds of Joe cleaning himself up, wiping away the bits of cum on a discarded bath towel, and you remembered that he had to go back to work after this. “You alright?” Joe asked, and you couldn’t exactly understand why your eyes watered at the sound of his accent, his voice back. “Love, talk to me, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said softly, slowly sitting up. Your body was already sore from his roughness, and you groaned at the ache in your legs. When you looked up, Joe was knelt beside the bed, looking at you with those big doe eyes of his, his eyebrows pitched up with worry.

“Was it too much?” he asked. “Was I too mean?”

“No, darling, it’s not that,” you said softly. “I’m just…” You took a deep breath, and you giggled lightly. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Yeah,” Joe chuckled. “Did you like it?”

You nodded. “It felt… Weird,” you started. “Like, it was you, but it wasn’t, and you-you fucked me so hard, you’ve never— but I liked it! It was just weird.”

“Weird for me too,” Joe said, and he slowly stood up, brushing the hair behind his ear. “Hair got all in my mouth at one point. I hate this wig. But it was weird to fuck you and not be me. I did like it, though. I always like fucking you.”

“Good to know,” you chuckled, and you pulled him to you and planted a kiss on his puffy lips. “Thank you for doing that for me. I love you.”

“I love you too, darling,” Joe said, and he kissed you again, gentle and loving and everything that Joe was that you loved. “We have a few minutes before I need to get back, can I do anything for you before I leave?”

“No,” you said. “Just be my Joey, and I’ll be happy.”

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn rpf #joseph quinn x reader smut #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #rpf #*my writing

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toadlessgirl · 1 year

Photo

Okay, time to get pretentious and REALLY talk about this shot.

So put on your over-analysis goggles, and let’s talk about the Imperial Cog, Renaissance-era military forts, 18th century prison architecture, the military-industrial complex, the surveillance state, and why this single shot of Mon Mothma standing in a doorway in “Nobody’s Listening!” (the 9th episode of Andor season one) is making me so feral I want to kiss Luke Hull and his entire production design team right on the mouth.

For those of you not in the know - the shape on the screen behind Major Partagaz is the crest of the Galactic Empire - often called the Imperial Cog. It appears throughout Star Wars media on flags, tie fighter helmets, uniforms and as a glowing hologram outside ISB HQ.

In canon it was adapted from the crest of the Galactic Republic.

irl it was created by original trilogy costume designer John Mollo. Mollo has stated that the symbol was inspired by the shape of historical fortifications.

Bastion forts (aka star forts) first appear during the Renaissance with the advent of the cannon. Their shape eliminated blind spots, allowing for a 360 degree field of fire.

An apt metaphor for the Empire. Powerful, imposing and leaving you with nowhere to hide.

The Imperial crest also strongly resembles a gear or cog - hence the common “Imperial Cog” nickname.

Given how inextricably linked military and industry are, it’s also an apt metaphor. Both alluding to the Empire’s massive industrial power, and how it treats all of its citizens with a startling lack of humanity, valuing them only for what they are able to produce for the Empire.

The idea of the cog is repeated in the shape of whatever it is that they’re producing in the prison. They’re literally cogs in the Imperial machine making more cogs for the machine... while inside a larger cog.

This shape, in relation to a prison, also references something else which was almost certainly intentional on the production team’s part.

In the 1791 British philosopher and social theorist Jeremy Bentham proposed a design for a prison he referred to as the “panopticon” - the name derived from the Greek word for “all seeing”.

The basic design for the panopticon was a large circular rotunda of cells with a single watchtower in the center. The plan would allow a single guard to theoretically observe every cell in the prison, but more importantly cause the prisoners to believe they are under surevillance at all times, while never being certain.

Later philosophers (notably Michel Foucault) used the panopticon as a metaphor for social control under totalitarian regimes or surveillance states. The perceived constant surveillance of a panopticon causes prisoners to self-police due to the belief they are always being watched, even if they don’t know for certain that is true. They live in constant fear even if nobody is actually watching them, even if “Nobody’s Listening!”

The idea of the metaphorical panopticon has in more recent years been adapted to many other examples of social control: CCTV, social media and business management...

Like the concept of cubicles in an open floor plan office.

So that all being established - let’s finally talk about Mon Mothma’s apartment.

The cog shape is everywhere. There’s hardly a shot where at least one cog isn’t visible. Every room is connected by cog-shaped doorways.

The shape serves as a backdrop to most scenes, often centered and featured prominently.

(Side Note: The cog also appears as a repeated pattern on room dividers with the interesting added detail of intersecting lines that make them resemble spider webs.

The fact that Mon is often filmed directly through these web-like screens (particularly when conducting rebellion business) leads me to believe that this was a very intentional choice.

Even in the very heart of the Empire the nascent Rebellion is starting to build a web of networks and intelligence.)

I had originally presumed that the repeated appearance of the cog was just Luke Hull and his production team adding some brilliant visual storytelling to their already amazing sets. But the following line from episode ten leads me to believe they intended for these details to have an in-story explanation as well.

When speaking to Tay and Davo Skuldon about the apartment Mon states that “It’s state property. The rules are strict on decor. Our choices for change are limited.”

While it’s unclear whether the “state” in this instance is Mon’s home planet of Chandrila or the Empire itself - that second option makes the decor even more insidious.

If Mon’s apartment is Empire property that means the shape of the doors is intentional in-world, not just for the sake of visual storytelling. It means that this was a conscious decision by the Empire. A reminder to even the richest and most powerful of its citizens that they are always watching - whether you can see them or not.

Which brings us back to our original shot.

My favorite thing about this shot isn’t just that is shows how very alone Mon Mothma is.

It isn’t just that she’s in the heart of the Empire, surrounded and dwarfed - just another cog in their machine.

It isn’t just that’s she trapped in her own metaphorical prison, worrying her self sick about who may be watching, not safe even in her own home.

What makes this shot truly extraordinary to me, is that right in the midst of the Empire you can see a new symbol forming.

Forming with Mon Mothma right at the center.

It’s a bit blocky, still constrained by the the harsh lines of the Empire, but giving how intentional every design decision on this show has been I find it pretty hard to believe it’s there by accident.

A symbol that will one day adorn the helmet of a boy from Tatooine.

One that will come to represent what all rebellions are built on...

#andor #andor spoilers #star wars #HOW IS THIS SHOW SO GOOD?#mon mothma #production design #history #long post #whose extensive knowledge of star wars and the history of the criminal justice system is useless now MOM

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stluciabuns · 6 months

Text

The Historical Accuracy of Kirsten's Dirndl

Despite its adorableness, I have seen many people complain about Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl outfit.

I would kill a man to have bought this for $22.

She wears this outfit for most of Meet Kirsten, being that she is an impoverished immigrant child who does not own any other clothes, and also for continuity reasons.

Frequently, I have seen it claimed that this outfit is not historically accurate and should not have been included as part of her collection. Conversely, I have also seen many German folk costumes marketed as being made for Kirsten. Both of these pain me a great deal (actually they just annoy me).

Nonetheless, I have decided to further procrastinate doing actual, meaningful work and instead set out on a new mission: figure out what the fuck is up with Kirsten's Dirndl.

In this post, I will lay out the research I have done, the evidence supporting the historical accuracy of this outfit, the challenges to its existence, and ultimately aim to answer the question of whether this outfit is one Kirsten plausibly could have worn on her journey from Sweden to America in 1854.

Let's begin.

First, the name. Pleasant Company/American Girl referred to this outfit as "Kirsten's Swedish Dirndl and Kerchief."

Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a Swedish dirndl. "Dirndl" is a German term, and refers to folk costumes worn by people in German-speaking areas of Europe (the Alps, Bavaria, Austria, and so on).

Kirsten is Swedish, and before Meet Kirsten has never left Sweden before. It is very unlikely she would have acquired, and regularly worn, a German dirndl. See this gorgeous example of a dirndl c. 1840:

Outfit, c. 1840. Munich, Bavaria, Germany. Münchner Stadtmuseum.

This ensemble is beautiful, but tragically, it is not what Kirsten is wearing.

What, then, is Kirsten wearing? What kind of traditional dress does Swedish culture have?

As it turns out, the proper term for what she is wearing is a folkdräkt. This is a Swedish term meaning "folk costume." Here is an illustration depicting multiple examples of Swedish folk costumes. In proper terms, these would be called "Svenska folkdräkter."

Nordisk familjebok (1908), vol. 8, Folkdräkt. Retrieved from runeberg.org.

These outfits are not quite identical to anything we see in Kirsten's collection, but you can observe various elements that have carried over -- the vertical stripes, black woolen skirts with ornate trim, and white dresses and red sashes (hello St. Lucia)!

Let us dive deeper. What do extant Svenska folkdräkter, specially those made c. 1850, look like? Is there anything like Kirsten's outfit among surviving examples?

Johan Sodermark, "Kvinna i dräkt."

In my few hours of research, this example image is the closest thing I have found to Kirsten's dirndl.

This lovely portrait is a watercolor from 1850 painted by Johan Sodermark. It is very creatively titled "Kvinna i dräkt" -- literally, "Woman in costume." The pattern of this woman's apron is incredibly similar to that of the skirt of the Kirsten doll's outfit -- a dark red base with blue and yellow stripes woven throughout.

Here is a closeup from the American Swedish Institute.

Although it is not shown in the doll-sized version of the outfit, the illustrations in Meet Kirsten by Renée Graef show us she also wears a light-colored, striped apron, which is almost surely the one that comes with her meet outfit.

Illustrations from Meet Kirsten, drawn by Renée Graef.

Notice the fabric of the bodice in the third illustration, though: Kirsten's top is made of red plaid fabric, while Sodermark's girl has an outfit full of stripes. Kirsten, bless her heart, spends an entire book outfit-repeating a potential pattern-mixing fail: plaid and two kinds of stripes and a floral scarf. Did Pleasant Rowland just hate her? Is Kirsten on another, elevated fashion plane far beyond my comprehension? Is there a historical basis for this combination of patterns?

I have no answer to the first two questions, but thankfully can speak on the third.

Komplett Vilskedräkt, Västergötlands museum. Some pieces c. 1865.

The top is plaid and laces up, which is not necessarily the most common way of fastening (in most examples, the bodice pins up), but it is a sensible choice considering both Kirsten's age (9) and the fact that Pleasant Company was making toys for little hands.

The model for the outer shell (the lace up top) belonged to Karl Edberg from Hällestad; it is not dated, but at least one piece of this set (the bag, which is not shown) is c. 1865. Additionally, the blouse here is very similar to the one that comes with Kirsten's winter outfit -- look at that keyhole neckline!

So, Kirsten's Dirndl outfit is actually very accurate as far as the clothing itself goes...the name remains the trouble.

I have no idea why they called it a dirndl. Folkdräkt is definitely challenging to pronounce, but why wouldn't PC just translate it as "folk dress" or "Swedish outfit" and call it a day? Why the insistence on referencing a culture that isn't relevant to the doll or her dress at all?

Perhaps this is a mystery to tackle for another day...

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gojos-thot-patrol · 6 months

Text

ignore that this is late, and short, it's been a hell of a week <3

Now Loading: Kinktober Week Four...

Synopsis: Nanami was always calm and composed, never losing his cool. It was a gift that became particularly handy when you were writhing on his cock, begging him to move, please. And he wanted too- God knows he wanted too. But you looks irresistible when you were this desperate, and he wanted to savor every second of it. Kinks: Cock Warming, Daddy, Degradation, Praise, and Edging

Nanami had always been patient with you, and now was no exception. He gently rubbed your hips through your slutty angel costume with his thumbs, almost smiling at the way you looked at him- with pathetic tear soaked eyes.

“Your s’ big..” You moaned softly, filling the sounds of his living room with your soft sighs. “It's too much..” It wasn’t fair. You were a shaking desperate mess, and Nanami looked as perfect as ever. Fake horns set perfectly on his head, red demon suit neatly fitted to his body- even the eyeliner along his water lines was smudged with perfect purpose. It all added to the intense arousal you were feeling, making you even more overwhelmed.

“You can handle it Princess,” Nanami said as he wiped a tear from your cheek, “Daddy wouldn’t give you anything you can’t take.” He knows you can take him, you’ve done it countless times in the past. But, you always seemed to forget that fact when you were slowly sliding down on him, taking him inch by inch. Finally you were fully seated on him, letting out a shaky breath. You gripped the upholstery of his soft couch, trying to ground yourself.

“Atta girl.” He praised. He loved seeing you like this, desperate and needy for him. He could feel your cunt flutter snuggly around him, and it drove him crazy. It was a feeling he was anticipating since he picked you up for the Halloween party, one he had grown addicted too. You quivered around him, taking him into your warm pussy and you tried not to focus on the way the fat tip of his cock rested on your sweet spot. If you did that before he started to move- you thought you might lose your mind.

You knew better than to ask for him to move. You knew better than to demand anything of Nanami. Patience was a virtue when it came to him, he’d give you anything you wanted with time. But, knowing that didn’t make waiting any easier. Patience may have been a virtue, but it was a virtue you severely lacked.

“Aww, is my pretty girl feeling frustrated?” He asked as he brushed yet another overwhelmed tear from your face. You nodded, only for his fingernails to dig into your hips. You wouldn’t get another warning.

“Yes Daddy,” You confessed. He nodded his approval.

“Why are you so frustrated princess?” He asked with a slow roll of his hips, one that pulled out an almost pained moan from you. You moved to dig your manicured nails into him and bit your lower lip, fighting the urge to lash out at him when he didn’t move again. He couldn’t fight the small but wicked smirk that formed on his face as he took in your visage. Pent up anticipation taking over your entire body, your thighs trembling around his hips. God, he loved you. He loved how easily fucked out you were. He had barely even touched you and you were so so desperate for him. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a major ego boost.

“I asked you a question, brat.” He sighed, never happy to repeat himself.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered for your transgression, “I-I just want you so bad..”

“I’m right here Princess, you’re going to need to be more specific than that.” He hummed as he kissed your cheek. He decided to cut you a little slack, “Do you want me to fuck you Pretty Girl, is that it?” He asked with another teasing roll of his hips, sending sparks of pleasure through your core, “Do you want me to fuck you like the pretty little whore you are, fill you up like a slut?”

“Yes, oh my god yes.” you begged. He could feel you clench around him, letting him know loud and clear how his words affected you.

“Yes what?” He was annoyed, but his tone was still laced with dark playfulness.

“Yes Daddy.” You nodded and he ran his hand through your hair.

“You’ve been slipping up a lot tonight Princess,” He pointed out, “Do you really think you deserve to do anything other than warm my cock tonight?” Your eyes widened with panic at the mere suggestion he wouldn’t finish what he started.

“No daddy, please! I’ve been trying so hard to be good, please. I want you so bad..” you begged, “Please, let me be a good little cumslut for you.” It always made Nanami’s heart flutter when you spoke his language.

“Listen to you Princess,” He said, finally finally starting to move, rolling his hips up into you and finally giving you the friction you needed, “Begging like a whore for me. Do you even know how much of a little slut you are?” He asked. You moaned softly, moving your hips in time with his.

“I’m not a whore..”

“Yes you are,” He laughed, “Look at you, begging for me like a good little cocksleeve, fucked stupid when I’ve hardly touched you. You’re desperate for dick.” He smirked. He fought a moan as he bucked his hips up into you. Your thighs- plush enough to break an angel's fall- quivered around his hips and drove him feral.

And you were melting in his lap, the relief from finally getting fucked exploding in you and mellowing out into pure ecstasy in your core. Your body was always hypersensitive to Nanami, and his movements were quickly pulling you to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m-” You almost screamed when he pulled out of you, looking at him with desperate and angered eyes. Eyes that filled him with pride and a wicked sense of glee. “What, why-?”

“I didn’t say you could cum yet, did I Princess?” He purred softly to you, laying your back on the couch as he towered over you. You whined softly as you writhed under him.

“No but-”

“No buts, you know the rules.” He said, slapping your pussy in warning. You yelped as he did, bending your knees as a reaction.

“Daddy! That hurt...” You whined, and he fought to not roll his eyes.

“No it didn’t baby girl, you’re being dramatic.”

“Am not!”

“I’m going to do it again.” He said, and made good on his promise. It was different though, this time instead of shock, the lewd sound the slap made had you biting your lip as soft pleasure mixed with the pain. “Did you like that one Princess?” He asked.

“Yes Daddy..” You knew better than to lie.

“There was no difference between them. Daddy knows you better than anyone, baby girl, I won't push you more than you can handle.” He promised. He leaned down and pressed a harsh yet measured kiss to your lips. One that was far quicker than you would have liked, and you found yourself chasing after him as he pulled back.

He moved down between your legs, kissing harsh hickies into the fat of them. He smiled at your dripping cunt, mouth watering as he watched it quiver. “Well, aren't you pretty?” He praised, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you closer to him, “So wet and needy for me, begging for my attention.” He punctuated his sentence with a sharp kiss to your clit, “and so sweet too. Absolutely perfect.” He purred.

Finally his mouth found your clit, possessively spelling his name in your sensitive nub with his tongue as his fingers slipped down to work at your wet pussy. His thick fingers started to work into you, curling up into your soft sweet spot and leaving your back curling off of the couch. Bliss was quickly building up inside of you, sparks of fire threatening to catch and burn into an inferno.

You were on fire.

Your hands fell down to tangle into Nanami's hair, pulling him closer to your needy core as you blatantly rode his face. A shiver of euphoria ran down your spine, and you whined softly as you realized just how close you were.

“Please, I need to cum so bad-” You begged, only for Nanami to take your hands out of his hair and pull back. You considered violating the Geneva convention. You had been denied twice at this point, and quite frankly it just wasn’t fair. “Daddy, please!” You whined, tears of frustration pricking your eyes and falling down your cheeks again.

“Don’t worry Princess,” He assured you as he kissed away your tears, “You’ve been a good girl. I’m going to get you off, but I’m going to get you off on my cock.” He threw your ankles over his shoulders as he sunk back into you, pushing his entire length in all in one go. A choked moan ripped through your throat as he impaled you, your sensitive pussy struggling to accommodate the sudden stretch.

“You feel so good Princess,” He praised as he set a brutal but measured pace. “So warm and tight-” He fought back a moan, “You were made for me, designed specifically to be mine. I’m gonna fill you up so full, You want that sweet girl?”

“I want that so bad.” You begged, getting lost in the pleasure he was giving you. You were barrling to the edge of a cliff, the precipice of pleasure, at ten thousand miles an hour with no breaks. Your sensitive body was exploding with lust and ecstasy with every thrust of Nanami’s hips, and you felt absolutely delirious with need. The pleasure was pooling quickly in your stomach, and it was going to overflow.

“I’m cumming!” you warned.

“Cum for me Princess, cum all over your daddys cock.” You were under Nanami’s spell, your body at his command. The moment he gave you permission, you were coming undone. Your thighs tightened and trembled, body suddenly feeling so heavy and yet so light all at the same time as stars exploded in your eyes. Your brain dumped all of the dopamine reserves into your bloodstream, bliss and ecstasy overflowing inside of you.

Your cunt gripped down on Nanani, pulling him what felt impossibly deep, and bringing him to his edge. He pushed himself fully in. Thick cockhead pressed against your cervix as he came deep inside of you, warm thick ropes of his load filling you up and warming you from the inside out. He fucked you for as long sa he physically could, riding you through both of your highs. A plethora of curses mixed with your name fell from his lips before he finally collapsed on top of you.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, before he moved both of you into a more comfortable position on the couch. His cock was still nestled inside your welcoming cunt. He justified it by not wanting to make a mess. He kissed your cheek as he cuddled you close.

“Did I do good?..” You asked softly, sleep already threatening to take you. Nanami smiled fondly and kissed you again.

“You did amazing my love,” He praised, “Now get some sleep.”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・ Taglist ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

thank you lovlies, for supporting my work! @sk8ttles, @blkkizzat,@littyasatittyyy,@ketchupsush1@my-names-angel-but-im-not-one, @ryomens-vixen, @yihona-san06 , @risuola, @bontensbabygirl, and @aureliaviolet3

If you wanna get on the tag list, comment: here!

And if you wanna read week One, you can find it: Here!

And Week Two: Here!

And week Three: Here!

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x reader smut #nanami smut #kento nanami smut #kinktober #Trick-or-Kink 23

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