#*monotone laughter* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months

Text

MW Reaction to You Leading Them On

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Dark! Modern Warfare, Horny! Modern Warfare, Possessive Behaviour, Territorial Behaviour, Entitled Behaviour, Threatening Behaviour, Incel-Coded! Modern Warfare, Dub-Con Themes, Implied Age Gap (Price), Physical Restraining, Kidnapping, Breaking and Entering, Reader Being Held Hostage, Abuse of Physical Power, Slut Shaming, Pet Names, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Ghost

You’d only just noticed that Ghost stood at the front door of his apartment as if he were guarding it. Perhaps from your attempts at leaving.

You’d tried apologising to him for ‘stringing him along’ as long as you had, but you genuinely believed the two of you were just being friendly, bantering. Nothing more to it.

Obviously, Simon hadn’t seen it that way. You know that now as you watch his hand slip down the front of his sweatpants, palming his erection through them.

“Why don’cha come and show me how sorry you are with that pretty little mouth of yours.” He’s so monotone when he says it that you think he’s joking. His face tells you otherwise.

Of course, you’re speechless. But Simon cares little for your bewilderment. He looks down at you, his eyes narrowing. When you don’t come to him, he steps towards you.

“You know,” he says, coming closer. You step back. “Y’hear about pretty little things like you wandering into a man’s trap. Gettin’ ravaged.”

He’s before you, now, all but chest-to-chest. His eyes are black. Gone is the man you’ve been playfully flirting with these last few months; who you’d tried to push over the edge with your accidental grazes, your unintentional whines, the batting of your eyelashes.

None of that will save you now. His voice carries the weight of a dark star.

“How do you know this isn’t exactly where I want you.”

König

König was eerily silent upon your rejection.

You both stood in his kitchen where, after watching you cook, his heart swelling beyond reason and fathom, König had blurted out that he liked you. A lot.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t return those feelings, only viewing König as a good friend at most.

And now, he stands sentinel over a reaction you can’t possibly predict. Especially as his eyes, usually crinkled with a smile and laughter, seem lighter than usual, as if drained of all their warmth.

“I see,” is all König says. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He leans back against the kitchen counter, one hand gripping its rounded edge while the other remains free.

“I suppose I only have one option, then.”

König stands to his full height, approaching you, invading your personal space. He’s almost chest-to-chest with you, the bulk of his frame, the size of his biceps becoming glaringly obvious to you now as his shirt struggles to contain him, pulled taut over his musculature.

“I’ll just have to destroy you for any other man you try to whore around with.”

The way in which he says it suggests indifference; as if this is something he’s done or thought about a million times before. He presses you into the counter, hands coming to rest either side of you. He bears down on you, jaw clenched and teeth gritted behind straight lips.

“Then you’ll have no choice but to come limping back to me.”

Soap

“Oh aye, Bonnie? You’re gonna drop me, just like that?”

The look Johnny gives you is one of incredulous disbelief. Yet, in some way, you feel that he already knew you weren’t dedicated to the idea of a relationship with him. Even after all the time you’d spent together, the many nights you’d enjoyed sleeping over at his apartment, the many treats you’d baked for him; these were all things one could easily mistake for friendship.

You’d considered that perhaps tonight hadn’t been the best time to let him down, regardless of how gently you did it, considering it was your weekly movie night and it was his turn to host.

You wish you’d listened to your inner self. Especially now as Johnny watches you, his eyes silver and sharp like a wolf’s. Without warning, he pounces on you, taking your wrists and planting them into the sofa cushions.

He lies atop you, heavy. Unmoving. Struggling only makes him grunt, a spark flashing in his eye.

“Tell you what,” he proposes. “If y’can still remember yer name by the time I’m through with you,” he presses his hips against yours. You gasp at the feeling of something heavy and pointed catching you.

“We’ll see how willing y’are to try’n lead me astray.”

Valeria

“I see how it is,” she sighs, arms crossed over her front. She has you tied to a chair in her office, mouth gagged as you try to plead with her through your tears, your eyes. “You thought you could have your cake and eat it too. Thought you could have me while trying to fuck every other bitch that crosses your path.”

You’d dared to try and break things off with Valeria – ‘things’ referring to the one-sided pursual of your love by a certain cartel mommy. But alas, your efforts to repel her had only strengthened her resolve – her need – to have you.

“I’ve dealt with your type before,” she says, bringing her face down to your level. You swear her eyes are black, devoid of the slivers of humanity she still possesses – somewhere. The wrinkle in her nose forecasts disgust, an emotion you know first-hand does not bode well with Valeria.

“I thought you were different. Thought you’d know to shut up and take what’s handed to you – especially when you’ve worked yourself so hard to get it.” Valeria’s hand comes down between your legs, her fingers wrapping around the meat of your thigh. Gripping. Tight.

“Maybe the you I’m looking for is buried in there somewhere.” You can taste the venom in her voice as her scrutinising gaze roves over your bound form. She brings her mouth to your ear, intentional and without haste.

“And all I need to do is fuck it out of you.”

Price

You considered for a moment that John hadn’t actually heard you. What, with his lax demeanour and total lack of acknowledgement of your rejection.

Of course, you were glad he wasn't reacting poorly, but to see him not reacting at all worried you.

“I could have you hidden away somewhere–” Price starts, lighting his cigar and not even looking at you, “–where you’d be for my eyes only.”

The fact that he says it so casually almost has you believing that you’ve misheard him. You blink, wait for him to prove you wrong

Much to your shock, he does nothing to quell your growing anxiety.

“Bet you’d like that – having the attention of an older man. ‘Specially since you’ve worked so hard to get it.”

Now, he looks at you, with eyes hard and sharp as diamond, half-lidded, a glare that could cut glass.

“Sitting on my lap, wearing those tight little shorts around me. Bet you wanted this to happen, didn’t’ya.”

When you don’t respond, too shocked to even conjure a response that could cover even a fraction of what John had said, he spoke for you.

“Well, Love, got anything to say for yourself?”

He didn’t give you time to answer. He took his legs off his desk and stood, staring at you.

“Better say it now since y’won’t be able to say much by the time I’m done with you.”

Horangi

“I just can’t believe you thought this would end well for you.” Hong-Jin paces before you as you sit on the edge of your bed, a hostage in your own home. Clearly, your rejection of his proposal to become his partner hadn’t ended well, hence the lock on your front door now lay broken, your security system disarmed.

“Especially after all I’ve spent on you, after all I’ve done to you – for you.”

His eyes never left you, staring you down. You tried not to shake, tried not to make a run for the door that, while open and tantalising in its beckoning for your escape, a steel model of a man patrolled it, patrolled you. Had you prisoner.

He stops before you, stands just inches from where your knees are jittering. His hands come down to grip them, giving them a squeeze. If it’s meant to be comforting, his intentions are lost in translation.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough with you,” he says. Offers you an out. “Maybe I’ve given you too much freedom.”

At that, he sinks to his knees before you and, without warning, parts your legs. You yelp, trying to pull away, but he keeps you tethered to the spot. His hands shoot to the top of your thighs and you can feel his fingers hooking over the sides of your bed shorts.

You try to reason with him, try to tell him you’ll do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn’t hurt you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Only want to show you–” he pulls the sides of your shorts down– “what you’re missing.”

Alejandro

The instigator of such a cold reception from Alejandro had been your refusal of a date with him. One which, unbeknownst to you, he’d been planning and psyching himself up for for the past week.

“I see.” Alejandro’s face was stern, thunder clouds rolling over him, making his features dark and pointed. The onset of a storm.

You didn’t know what to say, what to do, as Alejandro stood by your front door, dressed as if he was prepared to take you out right now.

You could see his jaw clench, his eye twitch.

“Is there someone else?” he asks.

You know that getting rejected solely because someone favours another over you is bad, but being rejected without competition is worse. You swallow, unsure of which option will infuriate Alejandro more. When you fail to answer, he sighs.

“You know, I always thought you were smarter than this, (Y/N).” His voice is low and intentional, like a plane flying too close to the ground. You look up, only to find him staring down at you, taking up all the space of your doorway with his hand perched on top of it like it’s nothing.

“But maybe I just have to teach you.”

You try to speak up for yourself, try to ask Alejandro what he’s playing at, but he shushes you. Steps into your home.

“I’ll have you crawling back to me by the night’s end, Cariño.” His words carry a weight that roots you in place. “I promise you that.”

Rodolfo

“Oh, I know,” he says with all the certainty in the world. You’re in his apartment, coming to break the news to him that you can’t accept his boyfriend proposal; the one he’d sent you in a five-page-long love letter.

You blink, befuddled. “You…you know?” Your brow raises. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

Rudy gives a hum, a smiling one. He puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the wall behind him.

“That’s because I know you don’t mean it.” He gives you little time to contemplate his statement before he’s descending upon you like a solar eclipse. “I just needed an excuse to get you somewhere we wouldn’t be…” He searches for the right word. “Disturbed.”

Strange, considering how he was disturbing you right now. He went on.

“I mean, how else was I going to get you here? If I’d just text you, you could shoot me down without coming anywhere near me. But now,” he’s close enough that his hands rest on your arms when he reaches for you, pulling him closer to him. You stumble on uncertain legs.

His grip is soft but you feel trapped, even if Rudy is one of the few people you’d feel comfortable being trapped with.

“Now,” he says, voice low. He pulls you into his chest, hard with years of training.

“I can show you how well I can please you.”

Graves

Graves is far more used to being the player, not the played. So when he discovered that you were, in fact, engaging in what could be construed as promiscuous behaviour with him without the intention of falling for his charms, he went silent. His stare hardened.

He’d never admit it, but he’d actually grown to like you in the time you’d been together. A lot.

“So that’s it?” he says. His voice, usually rounded with his southern charm and honeyed words, strikes you like an arrow, ice and sharp. “We have a good thing goin’ and you’re just gonna throw it all away?”

You’d tried to explain to him that no, that wasn’t what you meant when you’d suggested some time apart. You just wanted to explore other options, is all.

He gives a whiplash, humourless laugh.

“Can tell you’re lyin’ from a mile away. I know you want me, need me.”

When you roll your eyes, ready to back out of the conversation altogether, he’s on you, closing the gap between you and gripping you by your shoulders. He presses you against the wall.

“Fight it all you want, but we both know you’re just gonna come crawlin’ back, so why don’t I make this easy for ya.” His breath is hot against your cheeks, a bull on the prowl. His fingers dig into your shoulders and he gives you an impish smile. One that seems to substitute something much more insidious.

“I’ll have you begging me to fuck you by the end of the night,” he promises. “One way or another, whether you like it or not, m’gonna make you all mine.”

Gaz

Gaz has played the nice guy for far too long. This, he realises as he watches someone try to chat you up from across the bar, only to make the fatal mistake he himself had made: leaving you unattended.

Gaz wasted no time. He slithered through the crowded bar to you, taking your wrist in his hand on his way. He dragged you to a small room, dark and out of the way. He locked the door behind him.

“What was all that about, then.”

He faces away from you, but even through the dim light of the one, flickering light bulb above you, you could see his shoulders heaving, his hands clenched into fists as he awaits your response.

A friend, just some guy – it doesn’t matter. Gaz turns and bears down on you, backing you against the wall. Your hands fly up to his chest to try and quell him, to put some distance between the two of you. His heart pounds and so does yours, albeit for different reasons.

“You’re mine,” he says. He pens you in, his form broad and sculpted by horrors unknown. A hand comes to take your chin between its fingers, jerking your gaze to meet his. “Have I not worked hard enough to be able to have you yet.”

His voice cracks, though he shows no signs of crying. No, Instead he presses his front to yours. Something catches your thigh and you gasp.

“Maybe you just need reminding,” he tells you, “of how much I’ve done for you.” He rolls his hips against you, his hands coming to bolt themselves on the wall behind you, caging you.

“How much I can do.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

2K notes · View notes

wqnwoos · 6 months

Text

wonwoo knows more than anyone that you’re not a morning person; but when he stirs around seven in the morning, your side of the bed is unmistakably empty.

he waits a few moments — maybe you’re just using the bathroom, maybe you’re just getting some water — but when you don’t return, he makes the executive decision to roll out of bed. with only one mission: to make you come back to it.

because goddamn, it’s cold out in the living room. so when he realises the balcony doors are open, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised to see your figure leaning against the rails. and, for the most part, he’s not — the balcony has always been your favourite perch in the apartment, no matter the weather.

speaking of weather, though, as wonwoo comes up behind you, he realises it’s snowing. it’s clearly a recent development, given that the outside hasn’t yet been blanketed in white; it looks more like icing sugar scattered over frosted grass and grey concrete.

“it’s snowing,” you say needlessly, as he slips his arms around you from behind. he notices seol too, curled up by your feet, and briefly wonders why you’re always the favourite. that dog will follow you anywhere.

“it’s freezing,” he corrects at last, muffled into the skin of your neck. “come back to bed.”

you lean back against him, and he doesn’t see your smile, but he can hear it in his voice. “in a minute,” you reassure. “it’s the first snow of the season.”

“and you didn’t wake me so we could watch it together,” he adds, faux offence lying under his words. he doesn’t really mind. no superstition will dictate his future: he’ll spend the rest of his life loving you, and only you, first snow be damned.

“i watched it with seollie,” you say unapologetically. “we didn’t have space for you.”

“i’ve been betrayed,” he returns, as monotonously as possible — there’s a moment of quiet, shared laughter, and then he’s nosing back into your shoulder, kissing you through your sweater and mumbling again. “i think i’m going to freeze.”

“alright,” you concede finally, kissing him sweetly, icy noses bumping, and picking up seollie. “let’s go back to bed.”

(wonwoo thinks, as you try to warm your frigid feet against his under the duvet while he vehemently protests, that he lives for moments like these. quiet and simple, the two of you — or three, counting seol — in a world of your own.)

an / i want it to snow SO BADLY

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfiction #wonwoo #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #i

2K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 2 months

Text

file #4: the body mod fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!wriothesley x reader (genshin).

length: 3.1k.

warnings: non/con touching + groping, nonconsensual piecing, dubiously consensual tattoos, permanent body modification, intimidation, needles, obsessive behavior, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Just one?”

The question had been hushed, meek, directed more towards your lap than the man sitting across from you. The warden – Wriothesley, you chided yourself, biting the inside of your cheek and attempting to remember what he’d asked you to call him, Wriothesley – broke into a wry smile, but nodded, leaning back in his armchair. “Just one,” he reassured. “And you’ll taken care of until your release date.”

You didn’t respond, but he must’ve seen the way you paled at the suggestion. “Having second thoughts?”

“No, it’s just—” You grit your teeth. Your eyes flitted up momentarily, but fell back to your legs just as quickly. “I… I’ve never really liked needles, I guess.”

You could see his eyes light up, his grin broadening as he tried to stifle his laughter. You scowled, but couldn’t blame him. He was used to dealing with hardened criminals, the scum of Teyvat, thieves and spies and murderers, and here you were – on the verge of fainting because he asked you to get a tattoo. “I promise, you don’t have anything to worry about.” At least he was trying to sound comforting, even if it was clearly a half-hearted effort. “I’ll make sure you’re in good hands.”

And he had, in a way.

You just wished he would’ve mentioned that those hands would be his own.

Calloused fingertips dug into your bicep as a scarred palm pressed into your skin, keeping one of your arms loosely secured against the mattress of the cot while the other was pinned between the bedframe and his chest (the placement unintentional, or so you hoped). You’d been shaking when he brought out that terrible machine – a vial of dark ink trapped inside of a cage of copper and steel; a single, silver needle protruding out of one end and a leather grip wrapped around the other – but it’d only taken an hour for fear to fade into boredom, another for boredom to drag on into a rotting, discolored sort of exhaustion. For as much as you’d been dreading it, there was more pressure than pain. It was repetitive, if anything – a monotonous pierce, stab, pierce, stab that you could only try your best not to focus on. You could already feel an ache settling below the skin of your shoulder, already knew that you wouldn’t be able to lift your arm for days, but you tried not to—

His needle stabbed into the thin skin over your shoulder blade, and you couldn’t stop yourself – letting out a low hiss as you flinched into the cot’s thin mattress. You expected Wriothesley to laugh, to drag a damp cloth over the affected area and mutter something like ‘bear with me’ or ‘my bad, love, my bad’ like he had a dozen times before, but instead, there was a muffled click as he switched off his awful machine, a dull clatter as he dropped it onto a bedside table already crowded with bottles of disinfectant and the nurse’s bizarre tools. “We’ll stop here. It’ll take another session, but I think you’ve been through enough for one day. For a virgin, especially.”

You were only half-listening; the phantom of his machine still buzzing in your ears. “Are you sure?” You asked, trying to hide how desperate you were not to spend another night in the empty infirmary with a man you barely knew. “It’s not that bad, I can go for another—”

“I’m sure. Sit up, I’ll let you have a look.”

You pursed your lips, but didn’t protest. You could see how Wriothesley had gotten into such an authoritative position. The way he spoke, his constant undertone of stern stability – it was hard to so much as imagine talking back to him, let alone breaking one of the rules that’d been meticulously and painstakingly drilled into you when you’d arrived at the Fortress of Meropide a little under a week ago. Still, you’d been terrified – too scared to so much as speak to another prisoner for the first two days. You weren’t dangerous. You couldn’t hold your own in a fight, or protect yourself if someone else, someone stronger decided they had a problem with you. You could barely even call yourself a criminal, but apparently, the Iudex hadn’t agreed. You’d been on your way to the fortress before he could finish reading out your sentence, and now, you were trapped in the darkest, deepest place in all of Fontaine, alone and so, so painfully vulnerable. If it hadn’t been for Wriothesley, you probably would’ve requested to forgo your imprisonment entirely and be sent straight to the gallows.

A hand on your shoulder, a softened lull to his voice. “You can sit up, can’t you? I’ll have to call Sigewinne, if you’re in that much pain.”

“Right, I— uh, sorry,” You stammered as you shook your head and pushed yourself up, careful to keep the thick, overly starched cot sheet pressed to your chest. The infirmary was empty, the door locked and sealed, and while Wriothesley hadn’t seemed to think much of ordering you to take off your shirt and lay face-down, you couldn’t bring yourself to brush off the stark, damp chill that came with any amount of exposure in the fortress so easily. You guessed that, after enough time, you’d get used to it. You guessed that, when you did, the thought of not being so cold so constantly wouldn’t make you feel so sick. “I… I think I’m still getting used to this,” you went on, with a strained smile. “Still a little out of it, I guess.”

“That’s alright, love. We all take a few months to find a way to cope.” When you glanced over your shoulder, there was already a mirror in his hand – a compact, small enough to fit in his palm. You had to crane your neck to see it, but Wriothesley knew how to strike the right angle, and soon enough, the sprawling, spiraling pattern stretching from the lower curve of your shoulder blade to the ball of your shoulder came into view. It took you a moment to make out the pattern, but relief accompanied the delayed realization. Lumidouce bells, all blossoming and linked together by a single vine. He’d finished the linework, and there was a smattering of color in the bottom corner – only, oh, he’d gotten the shade wrong. Rather than deep violet, he’d used a light blue, more similar to ice than the water nearly everything in Fontaine stole its palette from. Judging by his expression, though, all beaming pride and low-brewing mirth, he hadn’t caught the mistake. “What do you think? Don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

“It’s… nice,” you said, the sentiment sincere despite your hesitance. And then, laughing, “I was—Well, it feels a little silly now, but I was terrified you’d leave me with, I don’t know, a sea monster or a giant wolf or something.”

“Maybe next time. Not a wolf, though - you don’t strike me as that vicious.” You bit your tongue, forcing yourself not to tell him there wouldn’t be a next time and opting to focus on the soreness starting to knot in your shoulder, instead. You swung your legs over the side of the cot, moving towards where you’d left your shirt draped over an unopened crate, but Wriothesley caught your wrist, tugging you gently back onto the thin mattress. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his playfulness suddenly more irritating than it had been, a few second ago. “I don’t think we’re finished, yet.”

Not for the first time, your smile wavered. “I… I thought we only agreed to one, sir.”

“Of course.” He squeezed your wrist teasingly. “One of each.”

Something heavy and spiked dropped into the pit of your stomach. This time, you couldn’t help the way your expression dropped. “Sir, that’s really not what I—”

“It’ll be worse the longer you put it off.” You weren’t dangerous. You weren’t a criminal. You weren’t strong, but Wriothesley was. Before you could so much as push yourself to your feet, his arm was around your waist and he was perched on the edge of the cot, one leg tucked underneath him to make more room for your body, soon pulled between his thighs. The back of your shoulder screamed where it pressed into his chest, but you managed to swallow the little, pitiful sound threatening to bubble past your lips and clung to your sheet – suddenly so much thinner than it’d seemed, seconds prior. If Wriothesley noticed your apparent panic, the distress of his prisoners was an inconvenience he was willing to endure. Only half-consciously, you tried to shove yourself away from him, but his muscle-bound arm was snaked around your waist before you could gain any distance, keeping you flush against his broad chest. He was so much bigger than you’d realized, when he was on the other side of that desk, when he was engraving something intrusive and permanent into the very fabric of your being. This had been a bad idea. Trusting anyone here had been a bad idea. You should never have—

Your elbow slammed into his diaphragm, and Wriothesley let out a slow grunt, his fingers burrowing into the plush of your side. “Easy now, love,” he half-muttered, half-breathed, bowing his head to speak into the side of your throat. “We had a deal, remember? Can you tell me what it was?”

“You—you said I wouldn’t get hurt if—” You forced yourself to stop, to swallow, to breathe. “But, I only agreed to get one tattoo, and you—”

“I said I’d take care of you. Get you a nice, cushy job with the fortress administrator, keep you out of any over-crowded bunks, make sure the other prisoners don’t cause you any trouble – that kind of thing. I’m really not supposed to play favorites, so even doing that much is going to take more than a little discretion on my part.”

“But, you offered to—”

“I said I’d take care of you, and I’m going to.” You could see him fishing something off of the bedside table with his free hand, but you forced yourself not to look, not to make the ever-growing pit in your stomach feel that much more hollow. “You’ve heard a few stories about what it’s like in the underworld, right? I try to keep all of you nice n’ safe, but a few are bound to fall through the cracks. Rehabilitation can only do so much and—well, I’m sure you know all about how bloodthirsty desperation can make someone.” There was a pause, an ebbing lull to the tenderness in his voice. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart. Are you going to help me get a little practice in, while I do that?”

Practice. If he wanted practice, you were sure there were another hundred prisoners who’d willingly lay down and let him carve a hole through whatever he wanted to. Still, you did your best to calm yourself down, to stop thrashing, to shut your eyes and try to ignore the large, pulsing thing you could feel pressing into your ass. You didn’t nod, didn’t give him permission, but when his fist balled around the infirmary sheet and tugged it away from you, the only resistance you managed to scrape up was a slight frown and a wary glance in his direction. “You’re already in for a rough night,” he explained, as if that was any excuse. “Might as well get the hardest one out of the way first, right?”

You refused to let yourself linger on the implication that this wasn’t going to be the last, too.

You clenched your eyes shut as his large hand pawed at the right side of your chest, kneading into the softened flesh with an almost delicate sort of care. “It’s easier after a little stimulation,” he murmured, as if that meant he had to spend so long circling your nipple with a calloused thumb, occasionally swiping over the sensitive bud in a way that made your thighs twitch and your face burn. When your nipple was stiff and pebbled, he pulled away, but it was a momentary reprieve – torn away from you with a splash of freezing disinfectant. It dripped down your chest and filled the stagnant air with a thick, chemical haze as Wriothesley caught your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching tightly. You felt the long, curved tip of his piercing needle against your skin, and braced yourself for the pain. Wriothesley wasn’t kind enough not to drag it out, though. “Wanna count me down?”

You shook your head, pushing yourself that much closer to his chest, desperate for any kind of stability. You’d hoped that Wriothesley would take your clear obstinance as a sign not to drag it out any longer, but he seemed to savor it – the agony of the wait, the way the dread seemed to multiply tenfold every time you forced yourself to suck in a ragged inhale. Seconds seemed to pass like frozen honey, only just beginning to drip. You’d started to think he wouldn’t do it, that he’d just laugh and admit this was all part of some bizarre, invasive hazing ritual when Wriothesley let out an airy chuckle and plunged his needle into you.

Oh, archons.

You really thought the tattoo would’ve been worse.

It was faster, at least; a bright shock of pain followed immediately by a steady, throbbing sort of ache that seemed to drown out every other sensation and fill your mind with a buzzing, numbing static. You didn’t realize your eyes had shot open on reflex until tears blurred your vision, until you glanced down just in time to watch as he dragged the needle through and replaced it with a small, silver stud – a barbell, as wrong as it felt to think of yourself having something so vulgar attached to you. You were crying unabashedly by the time he finished, pain and humiliation dripping down your cheeks in hot, wet streams, but Wriothesley’s shallow pool of sympathy must’ve run dry. “Ah, don’t make that face, sweetheart – we’re only halfway done.” You felt him panting into the crook of your neck as his hand found the other side of your chest. The last threads of his veil of composure frayed and broke apart as he groped unabashedly at your chest, toying with your nipple as your sobs echoed off of the clinic walls. You felt something thick and hot and wet crash against your collarbone and drip down the curve of your chest, and forced yourself to believe it was only disinfectant. That there was nothing it could’ve been except disinfectant.

Wriothesley’s hips rocked against your ass, the rigid outline of his cock pressing into you, incinerating any lingering delusions you might’ve had of helpful prison wardens exchanging one favor for another. Five fingers bit into the plush of your chest as he brought his needle to your unmutilated nipple, his hand surprisingly steady despite the airy, drawling moans he was pouring into your throat. “P-please don’t,” you managed, fighting to speak above the pathetic cries and choking fear doing their best to strangle out your voice. “Please, I can’t—I don’t want to—”

But, Wriothesley wasn’t listening. It wasn’t a spark, this time, but a red-hot knife, stabbed deep into your chest and twisted as far as it could go. You heard Wriothesley let out a rough groan, felt something warm and damp against your ass, and then, you were gone.

You startled awake hours later; bolting upright as you heaved in jolting, uneven inhales. Immediately, pain knocked you out of your panicked daze – sharp and piercing, imbedded into the back of your shoulder and either side of your chest, strong enough to remind you to measure out your breathing and calm down before you blindly threw yourself back into a seething pit of violent criminals. It took you a second to realize that you weren’t on an undersized infirmary cot, anymore, and another to piece together where he’d taken you – a bedroom nearly triple the size of your bunk. The warden’s chambers, you figured, as you scanned over the limited decoration and piles of dust-coated paperwork stacked onto every possible surface. Wriothesley’s room.

Wriothesley’s bed, at that. A cold chill ran down your spine as you realized that he’d taken the time to strip you out of your ill-fitting coveralls and redress you in a shirt sizes too big to be one of yours – the bleached, threadbare material a stark contrast to the satin sheets draped over your legs. You started to push them away and move towards the edge of the mattress, but froze as a door on the far side of the room creaked open – Wriothesley slipping inside and letting the door shut behind him. He moved away from it quickly, but as it closed, you could’ve sworn you heard the muffled, deafening click of a lock sliding into place and cutting you off from the rest of the world – or, the rest of the underworld, rather. As if there was anyone out there who would bother to save you, even if they could try.

“There’s my sleeping beauty.” He grinned as he lowered himself on the side of the bed, positioning himself closer to you than he absolutely had to. He reached out, moving to cup your face, but quickly let his hand fall back to his side when you flinched away. His smile dimmed, but didn’t fall away. “Get a chance to see the improvements, yet?”

After a second of hesitation, you shook your head, and he nodded to your chest - the gesture more of an order than a suggestion. Reluctantly, you pinched your collar between two fingers and peeled away from your skin. Through the narrow sliver, you could see his handiwork: a pair of twin rings hanging from either nipple, connected by a thin, lax, silver chain – so light, you could barely feel it brushing your diaphragm as the air caught in your chest.

You dropped the collar before you could give in to the nausea beginning to coil in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t bear to look at Wriothesley, so you kept your eyes on the sheets, kneading at the fabric half-consciously as you struggled to find your voice. “That wasn’t what we agreed to,” you muttered, mostly under your breath. “Can I go back to my bunk, now?”

His smile took on an almost apologetic note. You tried again. “Am I... Am I going to be able to leave?”

This time, when he reached out, flinching away wasn’t enough to stop him – his hand catching your chin and drawing you that much closer to him. You tried to lurch away, but it was too late, his lips were already crashing into yours, his tongue already slipping past your teeth and raking over your own. While your eyes widened in shock, his went half-lidded, closing just a second too late. Abruptly, it occurred to you that you’d never really noticed the color of his eyes – a pale, faded blue. The color of the half-formed flowers currently stretching across your back.

Wriothesley’s hand slipped to the nape of your neck. You let your eyes fall shut, and did your best not to think at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader

1K notes · View notes

tender-rosiey · 1 year

Text

“SILLY GIRL, TOLD YOU NOT TO WAIT”

— gojo, nanami, geto, and sukuna finding you asleep on the couch

a/n: f!reader also please if you have ideas throw them in my inbox <33

GOJO SATORU:

today, gojo was supposed to finish early, especially since the curse was a mere grade 2. however, right after he was done with it, he was assigned with more than 1 mission, one after the other.

so, the man who was supposed to be in your arms by 4pm is barely at the door at 12am. he opens the door muttering a small, “I am home,” in hopes of not waking you up.

he expects you to be in bed, maybe cuddling the pillows like you usually do or on the couch watching the series you two are following which he would consider a betrayal.

instead, he finds you fast asleep on the couch with your phone in your hand. a grin makes its way to his face as he nears your sleeping figure and kneels beside you.

you look like you fought a battle with your sleepiness, but it eventually won.

it’s adorable, he thinks.

now, though, nothing subjects you to sleeping on this couch even if it is expensive as hell and should be comfortable as hell too.

he picks you up gently, freezing in his place when you stir lightly in his arms. when you nuzzle into his chest, he can’t help but feel his heart burst with happiness.

he then continues his walk to your shared bedroom, placing you on the bed slowly and tucking you in. quickly, he changes and gets in the bed as well; his arms wrap themselves around you like it’s second nature and he feels you hum lightly.

“toru…?”

“I am here, sweets.”

and the smile on your face after hearing his voice makes a smile of his own appear, and gojo happily snuggles closer to you.

NANAMI KENTO:

your husband has told you multiple times to not stay up and wait for him on the days he tells you that the mission is going to be pretty long, to the point he will, unfortunately, work overtime.

so he didn’t know how to feel when he came back today and found you on the couch instead, leaning on the its arm and snoring softly.

on one hand, he feels so soft and his heart is singing, just in a really low and monotone nanami voice. on the other, he feels guilty that you had to sleep in such uncomfortable position while waiting for him.

so with a sigh, he goes to pick you up and just as he is about to slip his arms around your figure, you stir and open your eyes. you look up, eyes still half-lidded, but you can tell that it is your husband even from a mile away.

a smile makes its way to your lips instantly, “hey kento,” your hand reaches out to cup his face and you press a kiss to his nose.

nanami smiles helplessly, “hey love,” and puts his hand on top of yours while kissing your palm.

you pull him into a hug and nuzzle into his neck, “I missed you so much; how was work?”

“speaking of work,” he says and then lightly pinches you, “didn’t I tell you not wait up for me?”

“can you blame me?” you pout, “I wanted to make sure you’re safe and to be able to greet you like ‘welcome home my beloved!’, you get me?”

he chuckles lightly, “yeah yeah, ‘I get you’,” he easily picks you up making you yelp and proceeds to walk to your shared bedroom, “time to sleep now.”

“are we only going to sleep?” you cheekily say and your husband can’t help but roll his eyes.

“keep up that attitude and I assure you that you won’t get to sleep for even a second.”

GETO SUGURU:

geto is quite startled when he hears a thud in the living room, so he goes to check on the situation. maybe a small curse? but who would even enter his house with his kind of cursed energy?

instead of finding a curse, he just finds you, his wife, laying with your face to the ground and somehow sleeping rather comfortably.

quickly and barely suppressing his laughter, he takes a photo of your current situation.

“that’s going to be some good blackmail,” he thinks as a small grin never leaves his face.

now onto the next step that he still has to decide.

he can either carry you back to bed cause he is sure you will have a crisis when you see the markings on your face or he can wake you up and relish in your flustered face as you run around like a headless chicken.

he settles for gently nudging your shoulder, “y/n.”

you groan and he smiles a softer smile, “pretty girl, you fell off the bed.”

“so?” you grumble and turn away from him.

“your make-up printed on the ground.”

panicking, you sit up and look at the ground, “WHAT?!”

“you aren’t even wearing make-up,” you feel him kiss your cheek and chuckle, “get on the bed so you can sleep comfortably, silly.”

you huff and puff your cheeks while you get up and glare at your husband.

he merely stares at you with a silly smile that closely resembles the ( ◠‿◠ ) face and you simply can’t find it in you to be mad.

“you’re cute,” he whispers.

“and you’re ugly,” you affectionately whisper back.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

no one dared to near sukuna’s throne, absolutely no one.

so imagine his surprise when he came back from his endeavors and found you, his pretty and simply irresistible wife, sleeping on it.

he has two options: either throw a pillow at you or grumble for you to wake up.

being a complete jerk, he chooses the former.

you’re startled awake and frantically look around you, “what the??”

“who gave you permission to sleep on my throne, woman?” your husband says with fake malice and you simply shrug with a smile.

“I am the queen so I don’t need no one’s permission.”

“oh? you sure got bolder; need I remind you who is the king of curses here?” he smirks lightly and you shake your head.

“it doesn’t matter, plus, what’s wrong with a woman missing her husband?”

sukuna was never able to respond, completely, well when you laid out your feelings, hence why he is silent and is merely looking at you.

you hear him click his tongue, “if you truly missed your husband then you would’ve awaited his arrival and flung yourself on him the moment he entered.”

you stand up, towering over sukuna because of how high his throne is off the ground, “last time I did that, you pushed me off and told me to ‘compose myself’, my dear king.”

he goes up the steps and slowly settles in front of you. he takes a hold of your chin and makes you look up, “my dear queen should know when her husband means something and when he doesn’t.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @fiona782 @ginneko @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be fed to my cat

7K notes · View notes

satorusdiary · 1 year

Text

“You’re the boss’s girlfriend? he could do better..”

CEO!Toji Fushiguro x reader

Warnings: Slight angst, insecure reader, f!reader, smut, Megumi loves Toji’s girlfriend, cursing, humiliating, idk anything else

Summary: You start feeling insecure once Toji’s secretary makes a comment about you. Toji being the petty, but loving boyfriend he is, he makes you feel like your the most beautiful person living. In order to make you get rid of your insecurities, he fucks you in your guys shared bedroom, then he fires the lady who was being mean to his sweetheart the next day. <;33

Authors note: please don’t mind any errors, i’m too tired to edit😭

Something that you knew, that was obvious about Toji was that he was hot. He could pull anyone’s attention with no hesitation, hell without him even noticing.

Being the successful, hot CEO he is. He’s bound to catch attention from his workers of course. A certain secretary that doesn’t seem to leave him alone, always gets caught up on him.

“Hi! Umm.. is Toji available? I’d like to drop of his lunch which he forgot to bring along with him.” Your cheerful smile gets bigger when you step infront of the counter. Behind the counter was Toji’s secretary, who you didn’t know about until now.

The lady looks up at you with a bored but disgusted expression written all over her face, which makes your smile drop slightly. “He’s busy, now go? Your being a distraction right now.” Her monotone voice let out, making your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

‘I thought her job was to take in anyone who walks in the building,’ You sighed mentally to yourself. Her rude tone just made you feel like jumping over the counter and shoving the pen she was holding down her throat. But, being the good girl you were, you held yourself back.

You placed the bag of food on the counter, laying your arms down just so you could hold yourself up and look at the secretary with a straight face.

“I promise i won’t be long, i just need to drop off his food since his break is soon.” You checked the large clock that was hanging over the big long fireplace that was also in the main lobby.

She sits up from her seat and picks up the bag, tossing it in the trash that’s beside her, making you gasp. The lunch, which was Toji’s favorite was now in the trash. And she just threw it as if it was nothing, what’s wrong with her?!

“What the fuck.” You muttered. Your mouth was agaped opened as you looked at her with slight hurt in your e/c orbs.

“He’s busy! Just leave, your being an annoying pest right now. I don’t think he’d appreciate someone barging in just to give him food that probably tastes like shit.” She didn’t hesitate on criticizing you, and the food. It made your heart ache a little to be apart of someone disrespecting you.

“Excuse you! That someone is his girlfriend, are you stupid?” You cursed her out, going slightly over the counter to get up in her face which made her back up slightly.

She looked at you up and down, then chuckled. Soon that chucking became big time laughter.

“Your the boss’s girlfriend? He could do better… Honey have you seen all the women he’s been with? your nothing compared to them.” She laughs once more. Your face falls, this was a feeling you never enjoyed in your life.

The feeling of being insecure.

As of now, you’re sitting on your shared bed, in Toji’s penthouse. The mean words sticking to your mind as you question to yourself if you were enough for Toji. You let out a loud sigh and fell backwards onto the big fluffy pillow, then you rolled around onto your stomach and hugged the pillow. Letting your cheek lay against it aswell.

The large door leading into the bedroom from the master bedroom opened, lightly banging against the wall. You turned your head, not moving positions to see Toji with a towel around his waist, his hair still wet after leaving the shower.

He frowns noticing how you still looked upset, you’ve been like this ever since he came home! But yet, you wouldn’t tell him why you were feeling sad. Once you turn your head back at its original position, Toji makes his way over to you taking a seat on the bed beside you. He frowns even more when you turn your head away from him, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Sweet girl, talk to me. What happened?” Toji mumbles out, taking his warm hand under your shirt to rub the skin of your back in a soothing manner. You shake your head and snuggle in deeper into your pillow.

“Don’t wanna.” You stated, the two words that were let out from your mouth were slightly jumbled since half of your face was glued onto the pillow.

Toji sighs and pulls up his boxers over his legs, then his shorts. His towel was thrown to the floor, as he makes his way to the other side of the bed to lay face to face with you. Before you could turn away this time, Toji cups your free side of the face and rubs the outside of your red, heated cheek.

“Ima ask you again, what’s wrong ma? You wasn’t in my office enjoying lunch, other than that you didn’t bring my lunch when i texted you i forgotten it. Now your in a gloomy mood, what’s wrong hm?” He hums.

“—‘s nothing toji, swear..” You mumbled against his hand.

He shakes his head and sits up from the bed, making you confused until he opens his arms. “Sit here, baby c’mon”

Slowly, you sit up and crawl onto his lap. Your face now buried into his neck with your arms wrapped tightly around him.

“Your secretary’s a mean, disrespectful, little bitch, Toji.” You mumbled against his hair catching him by surprise. The first full thing you’ve spoken to him about, ever since he’s gotten home was something so blunt.

Toji snickered at your pettiness. Making you scoff.

“You wanted me to speak and you laugh? The fucks wrong with you, get off me.” You try getting off of his lap, but the strength in his arm that kept you down on his lap prevented you from leaving.

“No-No, ‘m so sorry sweetheart. Didn’t mean to be rude, tell me about why you think that.” Toji coughs, then brings small lovingly kisses on the nape of your neck along up to your jaw.

“Your secretary, she was being rude when i asked to come see you.” You started off. Toji hummed, waiting for you to continue as he played with the ends of your hair, that was in a small ponytail.

“When i asked her again she threw away the lunch i was going to give you! Then she said i wasn’t good enough compared to the other women you’ve been with. I left the building, because i didn’t want to face you after.” You admitted and took a deep breath in, the burning sensation in your throat increasing as you tried slowing down your breaths.

Toji stopped and pulled away from you, to have a look at you face to face. “She did that?”

You nodded your head, knowing that if you were to say anything else you’d end up cracking your voice and start crying then and there.

“Oh baby..” Toji mumbled before pressing feathery kisses on your forehead, and on the top of your nose. The tone in his voice made you sob out, the feeling of not being enough for him continues, making you lowers head just so he wouldn’t witness you pathetically cry.

He props two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look up at him with tearful eyes. He brings his other hand and wipes away the remaining tears that kept falling out of your pretty eyes.

“Y’know love, you’re the prettiest girl alive. Any other woman from my past will never compare to you. I can’t do any better, when you more than better ‘sweet girl.” Toji spoke, placing his forehead against yours.

He brings your face closer to his, placing his lips on your soft. puffy lips. Obviously from crying. His hands begin roaming around your bare legs, no shorts on. Just your underwear, and his shirt over your torso to keep you warm.

As less tears fall out from your eyes, your arms wrap around Toji’s neck tighter. Your hands playing with his raven hair. Your head moving at a certain angle just so you could bring the kiss in deeper.

When he pulls away, he begins kissing your jaw line. His hands now roaming down to your ass, grabbing a handful and squeezing the living life out of it making you gasp.

“That bitch, swear’ knew she was trouble the second she walked in. ‘jus had to go and disrespect my baby and her wonderful cooking hm?” Toji hummed, sucking at the skin below your jaw.

“Don’t worry, i’ll deal with her for you tomorrow. How does that sound, ma?” He questions. A smile appears on your face, glossy eyes now closing at how big your smiling along with the nod you give him.

He brings his warm hands under the shirt you had stolen from his closet, and began massaging your breasts. Earning a big deep breath in from you.

"you are so beautiful, all for me. No one compares to you baby." he murmured, and you respond with a whimper, merely watching as Toji left a trail of wet kisses up your body. his hand came behind your neck to pull your head up, the other groping your breasts, pinching the buds.

Next thing you knew it, his muscular hands slide his shirt off of you, throwing it on the floor beside your bed. The cold air, now touching the softness of your skin making you whine.

Toji chuckles and brings a hand down to your clothes crotch, using two fingers to rub over your sopping pussy that was already wet. He could’ve sworn his dick twitched when your pussy reacted so well towards his fingers.

“T-Tojii.” You whine when he slips your panties to the side, and plays with the sensitive bud that made you even more wet. He slides his two fingers deep into your creamy cunt, hearing it squelch as he softly curls his big fingers upward to strike that area.

Toji furrows his brows, noticing how your legs begin trembling. The feeling of not being prepped, yet his fingers slipping into you like butter turned him on even more.

“oh fuckkk, ‘m gna cumm. Toji baby pleasee” You begged your boyfriend who’s as smirking, increasing his speed as he thrusted his fingers into you in a faster, but deeper pace.

“you wanna cum, pretty girl?” He questions, his thumb now teasing the bud on your cunt making you arch your back even more. Toji chuckles when you moan in response, making him bend over slightly and put a breast in his mouth. Sucking it eagerly. His tongue lapping over your nipple.

The moans that were being let out of your mouth only grew louder, With Toji pleasuring you both ways. You could’ve sworn you were going to break.

“Yes yes yes! Lemme cum, please please please!” You continued to beg. The burning sensation in your stomach continued to build up, begging to be released in a way you’ve never felt before.

Toji sucked in real hard before letting go with a wet 'pop.’ Your breast bounced at the recoil, with drops of his saliva falling down from your nipple.

“Fuck, cum. My beautiful girl.” He praises. A loud cry is let out of you, as you came all over his hand. Toji’s grin gets bigger when he watches you make a mess all over him, you hadn’t even notice that you have squirted. That was when you looked down to see a big wet mess on Toji’s lap, and his hand most importantly.

You looked at him embarrassed, with cheeks more red and heated as ever. You let out heavy breaths as you go through your after glow of having your first orgasm of the night.

“—‘m so sorry toji, didn’t mean to make a mess..” You stuttered not wanting your boyfriend to be upset at you. Toji only chuckled and shook his head, bringing his free dry hand to cup your face. He placed a kiss on your pouting lips, gently nibbling your bottom lip in a way that made you satisfied.

“don’t be sorry, now can you lay on your back please. Baby?” Toji asked you once more, making you nod your head obediently. You instantly got off his lap, and laid down, making sure to take off your soaking wet panties and throwing them off the bed.

Toji stood up, and took off his boxers. You sucked in a deep breath when you watched his cock bounce out freely, slapping his stomach. Though he didn’t notice it, but you had a small smirk on your face once you saw how rock hard it was.

He turned around to one of the dressers and opened the bottom drawer, that was specifically only for when you both got intimate. The only thing he got, was extra large condoms. It was a shame you weren’t on birth control anymore, the feeling of you getting filled up was something you both enjoyed.

Toji ripped of the packet with his teeth, taking out the condom and rolling it over his cock. The erection was really hard, it almost hurt.

“Please Toji, put it in me.” Doe eyes looked up at Toji’s green orbs, making a new feeling of lust appear in his body.

In an instant he’s on top of you, holding his cock against your weeping cunt. Just begging for him to be inside you, to ruin you, to make you forget about all of your insecurities.

The feeling was euphoric. The way he kissed his way up your body, ending at your lips and slipping his tongue inside. Both of your tongues swirling against each other, occasionally he would suck on it and whisper praises towards you. Making butterflies tickle your stomach.

Before you knew it, he began sinking his cock into you. There was a muffled moan that was let out of you, the stretch was almost too good to be true.

The lewd noises of your cunt squelching can be heard from all around the room. Carefully, he pushes himself inside you. His hands on both sides of your hips as he gets inside deeper.

Once he's fully inside he places his hand above your stomach to feel himself inside you. You were basically suffocating his cock inside of you from your squeezing, it made him close his eyes for a slight second to adjust to your feeling.

You placed your hand on his arm, rubbing it up and down and looked at him with doe eyes. "Tojii, move please." You beg. The feeling of him just cock warming you wasn't enough for your pleasure.

"you asked for this 'mama no going back now." He began thrusting into you in and out, in a harsh and fast manner. Your eyes began fluttering in arousal as your clung to his arms.

As his thrusts grew louder, so did your moans. You gripped around his neck as he moved inside of you. The headboard banged violently against the wall making a harsh noise that you knew the neighbors wouldn't enjoy as Toji continued to push his big cock into you harshly.

Toji began to rock faster inside of you, observing the ways your eyes fluttered and threatened to roll back as he thrusted into your g-spot which made you moan louder than ever. he pulled himself out of you, only to reinsert himself so you felt full once again as he made you adjust to his own size as you continued to cry out his name over and over.

Tears began escaping your e/c orbs. The wet substance began falling onto the bedsheets making Toji bend down to kiss your tears away. "You’re pretty when you cry." He complimented, continuing on to kiss your face and your tears.

You let out a sob, but it only made him want to fuck you harder. Toji brought your legs onto his shoulders, pretty tears ran down your cheeks as you felt his big fat cock sliding so deep inside your poor cunt.

He continued to roll his hips into yours in a fast pace. He abused your used hole in ways he has never before making a new feeling appear in your stomach. The bubble that was forming was just begging to be released. When his cock twitched inside of you, it made it worse for you.

"Look how deep i am inside you, baby." He cooed making your hand press against your stomach. You looked at him surprised as you felt his cock move inside your stomach. The feeling was almost too much to bear for you body.

He felt pleased that he had caused you to see stars as he watched your breasts bounce with each violent thrust he made. Toji continued to pound into you; you could hear your flesh slapping and hearing a mild squelching. As he continued to pound into you, you moaned out his name while holding onto him.

He groaned each time you clenched around him as he pulled away from you and then pushed himself back in. He halted the pulling and started to set a rough pace once more. Toji proceeded to exploit your sweet spots, and you felt ecstasy take over your body.

"—'m gonna cumm" you moaned outloud into Toji’s ear when you pulled him closer to you. Your bodies were hot, closed together as the intimate feeling continued on.

"Cum for me, y/n, good girl..." He groaned when he came inside the condom at the same time. His hand slipped down between your legs, rubbing your abused little puffy clit, making you cry out more from the pleasure.

“lo-love you s’much Toji, thank you.” You cried out whilst cumming. A white, gooey ring appear above the condoms on Toji’s cock making him hum in satisfaction, bringing his forehead down to yours, placing soft lil kisses on your pretty face.

“Love you more, baby. You’re so perfect, all beautiful just for me. Don’t care what anyone tells me, or you.” He reassures you. Deep breaths being felt against you as you tried collecting your breath.

He was still buried deep inside of you. Thrusting in slightly as he calmed down from his high. You watched as he slowly pulled his cock out of your entrance, you hissed from the the overstimulation that over came inside your body.

He rubbed your thighs, muttered an apology while looking at your bruised, marked body. His chest burns with pride, once again claiming you as his.

After a few minutes of laying on each other Toji helps you put on a shirt that he took from his part of the closet. Admiring how beautiful you looked in his clothes.

The feelings of insecurity for you disappeared out of your mind, thanks to being trapped in the warmth of your boyfriend. All your troubles go away.

You were going to drift off to sleep until a few small knocks were heard from the entrance of the bedroom door, slightly startling you as you flinched under the blankets. Toji, who was under you rubbed your arm up and down.

You sat up from his chest and watched as the door opened, revealing a tired Megumi holding his baby bottle, and his blanket.

“M-Mommy?” Megumi mumbles out, not acknowledging his father whilst rubbing his eyes with his tiny hands. Your heart beats faster as you look at Toji’s son in awe.

“Gumi! I’m so sorry baby, did we wake you?” You frowned and carefully got out of bed, leaving behind a upset and now lonely Toji in bed, who watches his girlfriend ogle over his son.

“I-I heard screaming from you. A-Are you okay mommy? Did father hurt you?”

The sudden questions make you lightly laugh. You sit on the edge of the bed with Megumi on your lap as you rub his back, shaking your head.

“No baby, your father didn’t hurt me. We were just play fighting that’s all.” You smile and kiss his forehead. Toji huffs and lays in bed, frustrated at how most of his warmth was missing. Toji couldn’t deny it, but the way that his son starts calling you mommy just makes his heart warm up even more. Even if he didn’t like him as much.

You rolled your eyes at his sassyness, and continued cradling Megumi in your arms.

“Can i sleep on your side tonight mommy?” He asks. You nod your head with no hesitation, making Megumi give a cheerful smile which shows his incoming teeth coming in.

The both of you get tucked into bed, as quick as that Megumi drifts off to sleep beside you on your side of bed. You sigh in relief, turning to your side to look at Toji who was on his phone, leaning against the head board.

Your arm was wrapped around his waist, dropping your head against his chest making him stop whatever he was doing to look at you.

“mmm, love you Toji s’much, g’night.” You slide against his broad chest. He knows he can’t stay mad at you for giving all your attention to his son.

He kisses your forehead, brushing the hair out of your face. Then he leans over to kiss Megumis forehead, before turning off the only light that was on in the bedroom that was on top of the nightstand beside him.

“G’night, baby i love you more.”

The next day, Toji shows up to work early. Obvious to him, his secretary Yuki’s early as-well. She’s sitting at the front desk, sending small glances towards Toji who was just staying in the lobby to wait for a few of his colleagues, or for someone special, who knows.

After about 10 minutes or 15, you show up in the building with a tote bag over your shoulder. The bag was filled with d food, this time it wouldn’t be trashed like it was yesterday.

Yuki pretends to not notice you both, but the ache in her heart tells her other wise when she was able to see Toji pull you in a tight hug. Along with a kiss on your forehead, and your lips.

She sighs in relief once the both of you make your way down the hallway, towards the elevator. That’s when Toji stops in his tracks along with you by his side, with his arm around you tightly.

“Yuki?” Toji turns his head slightly to look at his secretary who instantly fixes herself, brushing her hair with her fingers as she sends him a smile making you gag.

“Yes Toji-san?”

“You’re fired, pack up your things. I want you out of here immediately.” Toji glares at the woman. Her face drops at the sudden news.

“W-What?!” She cries out.

“Oh, and apologize to my wife while your at it. Can’t have you leaving without apologizing for disrespecting her. Tch, actin like your better then her is fucking embarrassing.”

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

5K notes · View notes

eilidh-eternal · 5 months

Text

You have a secret

Part of the Metanoia series | Part 1 | Masterlist |

| SingleDad!Johnny x f!reader | 18+ MDNI | CW death of a loved one, grief, attempted SA, Johnny and reader are going through it |

Glasgow is cold in January.

Hogmanay came and went with the typical rambunctious celebrations, every bar and pub in the city overflowing with patrons that spill out onto the pavement and the streets, properly drunk and stumbling over one another as they make their way to the next bar. Some of your coworkers invited you out for a bar crawl, just as they did last year, but you’d decided going out in the freezing weather and nursing a hangover at work in the morning isn’t worth the trouble. So home you stay, curled up with cheap Tesco sparkling wine and the last book on your reading list for the year, the tv playing a montage of celebrations across the city quietly in the background, and you slink off to bed just as the fireworks settle and the night falls quiet.

The days that follow are quiet too, the first week of the new year creeping along in the hazy in between, that little reset that comes between the holiday season and the yawning winter that looms before you, corporate deadlines and end of fiscal year reports that will start to pile up soon. You enjoy the quiet calm of that in between, try to remember what it feels like to be able to step away from your desk and take a lap around the office to stretch your legs before you’re inundated with so many reports you hardly have time to break away to use the restroom.

Johnny frequents your thoughts more than you'd like to admit as you stroll around the office floor, wondering if he's operating in the same lull as you are, biding his time until his next assignment with dull busywork and monotonous routine. Wondering if he and Isobel had celebrated Hogmanay at home like you had or if maybe he’d taken her to a friends flat with him, one of his team members. Wondered if he let her stay up late with him and counted down the fireworks display together, or if he tucked her into a spare bedroom some hours before, waking her up just in time to see them and take her home to her own bed for the night.

The growing tinge of disappointment hung like storm clouds over your mood when you hadn’t seen much of them in the days leading up to the new year, and you began to think maybe all the smiles, all the double entendres, were just a friendly personality and polite kindness on his part; just a neighbor being neighborly. There was an exchange of phone numbers with the offer to call or text one another if the other ever needed anything after dinner several weeks ago. Hardly an invitation for conversation. Another polite exchange and thanks for your mutual goodwill.

Pretending not to care, to resist the urge to check your phone whenever it vibrates on your desk or in your back pocket, takes more effort than you had expected. It’s not him. Why would it be him? It’s not like he said he would call.

But Johnny has a habit of surprising you.

Snow and lights and festive wreaths don’t hold the same wonderment they used to. They all remind him of her. Remind him how she always insisted on a big family dinner. How she was always the one who invited everyone to their home and always had his favorite scotch on hand to toast with at midnight. The lights remind him of flashing red and blue, screaming sirens that cut through the air like the mournful wail of a banshee. The snow covered roads look too much like the roads did that day, tires slipping and sliding, the tail end of his car nearly spinning him out on the highway in his desperation to get to her.

And the quiet.

The quiet of the world when snow falls and blankets the earth in layers of glittering sorrow makes the silence deafening. Her laughter doesn’t echo Isobels, there are no footsteps mirrored in the snow beside hers, and the tiny angel in the front yard stares up at the clouds where its missing guardian watches over them. It’s hard, for both of them. Isobel doesn't remember the accident, doesn’t remember riding in the ambulance with her mother or the way the security guard and several nurses had to hold Johnny back when she coded. She doesn't remember the tears, the anger, the denial of everything unfolding in front of him, crumbling around him and knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him crumpled on the floor outside her room.

Isobel didn’t see how he sat slumped against the wall with his head between his knees, arms folded over his legs and fingers digging into his skin until the blunt edges of his nails drew blood. She never saw the procession of doctors and nurses that slowly filed out of the room, the only sound in the somber silence the soft tapping of rubber soles on tile. No beeping from monitors, no clicks and whooshes of the ventilator. Heavy, suffocating silence.

The social worker sat with him, let him fall apart right there on the hospital floor, a sympathetic hand resting on his trembling shoulder as he poured his heart out onto the cold, sterile white tile beneath him. When the silence became unbearable, when it started clawing at his skull and slicing into his skin like razor wire, he let her fill it. He listened to her tell him that Isobel is okay–scared, in shock–but alive and breathing. Lets her lead him through more sterile hallways to an office where another social worker does their best to occupy the tiny girl, but the minute Johnny walks through that door she’s all trembling hands and watery eyes, wobbly chin and confused tears.

He does his best not to let her see it, not when the snow is still full of magic and the lights still make her eyes bright with joy, pure and unbridled. But it's hard to hide the grief that dulls his own, the wintery haze that hardens them into icy pools that long for the warmth of summer skies. It’s hard to step outside and breathe the crisp winter air and not feel his throat constrict, feel the warmth seep from his body, replaced with the empty cold of a world without her in it.

Sometimes he can hear little bits of her in the way Isobel laughs, can see the same stubborn crease of her brow when she can’t quite figure something out and refuses to ask for his help. He sees the same light and spark in her eyes, the same mischief that they once shared through the years, and he can't bear to dim that light, to extinguish the joy and happiness that lives there.

It was a quiet holiday for the two of them. No big parties, no dinner and drinks, despite John's invitation. Just Johnny and Isobel, cuddled up together on the couch watching movies and sharing bites of whatever snack or dessert the other brought with them. He thought about texting you, asking if you had plans to go out, or maybe stay in. Isobel came trotting back from the kitchen, one of the cookies the two of you had made together in-hand, and clambered onto his lap, peering at the unsent message to you on his phone screen.

“What’s it say?” She squints her little eyes at the letters, still not quite able to put the words together.

“Nothin’, leannan.” The words disappear from the text field and he tosses his phone aside to settle his arms around her. “Did ye bring one for me?” She shakes her head no but breaks off a chunk and offers it up to him. “Thank ye.” He leans forward to take it from her, takes the bite straight from her hand, and her delighted giggles fill the gaping hole in his chest with comforting warmth.

Cinnamon and pine still lingers in the air, mingled with the scent of paper and ink, with the warm coffee several customers clutch between cold fingers. With boxing day and the holidays behind them, the shops are much less overwhelming at this time of year, most of the aisles in the book store blessedly empty and the silence only occasionally interrupted by the fluttering of pages or soft footsteps on carpeted floors. The perfect atmosphere for strolling between shelves and taking the time to read more than the blurb on the inside cover of a book before adding it to the small collection already cradled in your arms. It’s the perfect, quiet afternoon until it’s not. Until the silence is broken and every hair on the back of your neck is standing at attention.

“Well, lookit you. Pretty little thing, aren’t ya?” The words are clumsily spoken, slurred and hot against your cheek where his breath fans across clammy skin, sour and putrid, reeking of alcohol and god knows what else. He plucks the book from your hands, works hard to focus his eyes as he surveys the cover art and skims through a passage from the middle of the book. You stumble back a step, heels catching on the shelf behind you and nearly sending a few of the more precariously shelved titles tumbling to the ground. He follows, the only space between him and you created by the book in his hands, and you clutch your little stack tighter to your chest, willing hardbacks and delicate pages to become armor. “This isn’t the kinda stuff a little lady should be readin’.” He waves the book in your face, braces a hand on the shelf beside your head when he teeters off balance, and leans far too close, crowds you back against the shelf until the wood digs into your shoulder blades.

A glance at either end of the aisle reveals nothing but empty rows of shelves and not a soul in sight, no one to come to your rescue.

“I-I can read what I want. Please leave me alone, sir.”

“This is pure filth,” he sneers, shoving the book back at you. It lands on the floor at your feet with a fluttering ‘thump’ and the shelving behind you creaks as you try to maintain some distance from him. You wish that the novels at your back would open their covers and draw you in, hide you between the inked words within their pages. “Worse than porn, this is. ‘S not even any good. Why read this shite when you can have the real thing?” His hand dips down to fumble with something beneath his coat and you hear the metal teeth of a zipper unfurling.

You know what’s happening, know what you’ll see if you look down. You know that you should push and shove and yell and scream, but you can’t. Fear and realization settle heavy against your body, fog your mind with a haze so thick your vision turns blurry at the edges, and when you open your mouth to speak the only thing that comes out is a strangled, muted gasp as he presses his full body weight against you, searing heat pressed firm against your stomach and pinning you in place.

Everything feels slow and blurry. Like you're underwater, trying to run across the bottom of the ocean, salt water stinging your eyes. The dread that weighs so heavily on your chest keeps you there, refusing to let you surface, refusing to let you draw more than shallow breaths that feel like lungfuls of water instead.

Something cuts through the depths. A noise. Someone's shouting. Angry. And then that weight on your chest, the weight that pins your body to the shelf, is gone. You still can’t breathe, salt water still blurs your vision, distorts the movement in front of you and leaves you disoriented, unsteady on your own feet. There’s more noise, softer this time.

An employee. She’s asking you something. Asking if you’re ok. You let her guide you, away from the aisle to a back room to sit in a chair and drink water from a paper cup while she calls the police. She stays with you until they get there and while they ask you questions, sits in silent support beside you and refills your water when you need it. The police leave, tell you that if they see the man he’ll be picked up, and the younger woman asks if you want to call someone to get you, to drive you home.

The thought of anyone else seeing you, talking to you, trying to touch you, makes your stomach twist with nausea. So you drive yourself home, empty book bag tossed in the seat beside you, no music to fill the silence. You don’t quite know how you got there, sitting in your car outside your house. Can’t remember making the turn down your street or how long ago you killed the engine.

Long enough for Johnny to take notice, it seems. He’s knocking on the window, calling your name, and it startles you. Drags you up from the quiet depths of your mind and sets your heart racing. Too fast. Too much. The car is too small, the seat belt too tight across your chest, and you need out. He nearly gets hit with the door, dodges heavy metal as it swings open suddenly, and his brows slope together in concern when he sees your shaking hands, sees the way you won’t look at his face.

“Wa’s wrong, bonnie? Wha’ hap-” You shove the door closed behind you, brush him off and skitter around him, won’t come within more than a few meters of him, and he calls after you as you climb the stairs to your door, hurriedly fitting the key in the lock. “Have I done-”

You don't hear the rest of his sentence, and Johnny is left dumbstruck at the bottom of the steps, the slam of your front door and the sound of the deadbolt clicking into place ringing in his ears like he’s stood too close to a grenade.

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

1K notes · View notes

celestemona · 3 months

Text

WHERE KAEDEHARA CLAN RISES UP ONCE AGAIN

a when they're dads au introduction

pairing: dad & husband! kaedehara kazuha x fem! reader

cw: established relationship, you and kazuha are married and have children. original characters. domestic and parenting universe. quick pregnancy mention. slightly ooc to fit the plot. fluff and not beta read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

part i. | part ii.

Considering that Kaedehara Kazuha’ only reputation was his mild personality and free spirit, no one believed that the wandering samurai would one day be able to pause his travels and settle down to a monotonous, homely life.

So you can imagine the surprise that’d be among the fishing and sailing communities throughout Teyvat when they discovered that the white-haired man had not settled down but also married and had children.

Surely it only could be a prank because, after all, was there even a possibility of that happening?

Well, this answer was given by a drunk and laughing Captain Beidou who showed to curious and shocked eyes a photo of his wedding held by the Crux fleet itself on a small and isolated island in Inazuma.

If the residents and locals didn't know her so well they might think the pirate captain was lying. However, looking at the photo closer, the way Kazuha looked at you while you smiled back at him confirmed the undeniable: the man was madly in love with you.

After that, with the help of a few barrels of rum and beer, the story of your love was shared. From you falling from the sky directly (and literally) into the samurai's arms, to the blossoming of your relationship; the ups and downs faced to the marriage proposal, and then the small family's decision to leave the seas to rebuild the Kaedehara Clan together.

Oh, well… Beidou may have let escape one more detail since dozens of wide eyes stared at her in astonishment at this information. However, she was pretty sure Kazuha wouldn't mind if she told them a little bit more about his new life as patriarch of the clan and his greatest prides. You, his wife, and your three children.

The samurai himself didn’t believe that one day he could be so fortunate and blessed to have the opportunity to return to a happy and noisy home. His days as a teenager left him with a deep scar in his heart since his relationship with his father, at first, wasn’t one of the best and therefore staying away from the place that was once his home was the best decision to be made.

Not only had the distance from Inazuma changed his perspective but also an insecurity had blossomed in the back of his mind where he feared that one day he’d make the same mistakes as his father.

Even so, after you entered his life, the only feeling he had when he set foot in the old estate was pure warmth and belonging. Love and serenity that not even his children, while yelling and playing around the mansion, could shake it.

Kiyomi, his middle and only daughter, was, most of the time, responsible for the laughter and noises in the house. Both you and your husband didn't know where she had inherited such an extroverted and mischievous personality, causing you to grow a few strands of gray hair and eliciting genuine laughs from Kazuha. There was no denying that the girl had a temperament as unique as her beauty, which was a mixture between yours and your husband's. And as the only girl in the family it was undeniable to say that Kazuha loved the ground she walked on. Nevertheless, neither you nor your husband would change anything about her, loving and being proud of your daughter the way she is — because if there’s something prettier about Kiyomi was her heart as big as her stubbornness.

Clearly, the affection of the two parents wasn’t limited to just the girl but also extended to the two sons.

Kazumi is your firstborn son and only three years older than Kiyomi. With such a small age difference, some parents would expect there to be a certain amount of rivalry and jealousy between the siblings, but Kazumi was his father's son in both appearance and personality. With such a sneaky smile and a relaxed attitude, he was often mistaken for Kazuha himself — even sharing the same mindset of preferring to go with the flow rather than worry about small, insignificant things. This didn't apply to situations where you or his siblings were in danger, of course. After all, he took the title of older son and brother very seriously.

Shortly before his tenth birthday, Kazumi had learned and inherited the techniques of the Isshin Art which even took Kazuha himself an entire decade to re-learn. Unlike his ancestors, the current patriarch would teach his children the clan's secret technique so that the art would remain alive. Whether his children would dedicate themselves to it or not will depend on each of them.

Kiyomi didn't seem too interested, neither did Kazumi.

You, though, hoped that one of your children would carry the bladesmithing practices forward but you were also happy to see each of your children following their own path. If not even Haruki, your youngest son who was known to be as hungry for knowledge as any sage of Sumeru himself, seemed enchanted by this idea then the Kaedehara Clan must expanding its businesses in other areas.

The youngest Kaedehara was the prodigy and the pride of the entire family. Your third pregnancy was a big surprise in the house but very well welcomed. Kazumi had just turned ten and Kiyomi was awaiting her seventh birthday when the fragile little Haruki arrived into the world on a autumn morning — although, the first few months that followed weren’t very pleasant as your baby's health was poor, leaving both you and Kazuha with your nerves always on edge.

However, with the help of your friends, the traveler, the Crux fleet, and even Yae Miko’s divine blessing, little by little Haruki managed to recover and finally grow up healthily.

Unlike his brothers who always seemed to be somewhere or running around, Haruki preferred to stay at home surrounded by the comfort of his parents' presence or his books. It took little time for you and Kazuha to realize that at a young age he was already reading advanced-level books and scrolls, and was interested in subjects that even adults would find boring. So it was also no surprise either when an invitation to study at Akademiya arrived at your home just before the boy's thirteenth birthday.

Needless to say there was a huge party before his departure to Sumeru where on one side there was you crying at the sudden departure of your son, Kazuha consoling you and a very happy Beidou getting all the guests drunk.

So, yes. If someone asked Kazuha about what he thought of this new life of his, he wouldn't lie when he answered them that it was a very different reality from the one he had projected years ago. There would always be something to worry about, his days were almost the same, rarely leaving the routine, and every now and then the desire to reach new horizons would always call him.

But in the end of the day, he wouldn't trade a second of his life by your side for his old one. Because, after all, he’s already living the biggest adventure of his life with you by his side, and if there’s something that Kazuha was sure of, it'd be that there’s nothing in the world so rewarding as having your company.

a/n: i must confess that i have this plot on my drafts for almost two years now but i’ve never found will enough on myself to sit down and write it. nevertheless, i’m thankful for my mind to remind me of this plot and make me re-write new ideas.

those who knows me, or not, must’ve know that i really do love parenting, domestic and pregnancy universe so not so often i caught myself writing about it. it’s so relaxing and enjoyable to picture these guys as dad idk.

i hope you’ve liked it so far. i would like to share more about this headcanon too in a possible future so let me know if you want to know something more about the kaedehara clan. thank you so much, bye!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #dad kazuha #kaedehara clan #genshin dads au

707 notes · View notes

matty-bear · 4 months

Text

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong [M.S]

type: fic!

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: long , sfw , fluffy , paranormal activity , hint of getting an attachment (wink wink) , elevators , ritual run through

summary: as you and the triplets join sam and colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in texas , the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game . little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence .

notes: i HAD to write a fic based off the SnC x sturniolo collab . n when I found that the sam n colby made matt do this ritual , i knew i had to write a fic based off it :3 hope you guys enjoy reading part one ! be on the lookout for part two <3

WC: 7098

PT2

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Is the red light really necessary?” Nick asks, a single eyebrow raising as he watches Sam turn on a large red light and set it behind the camera propped up in front of them.

“It adds a more dramatic effect to the video.” Sam shrugs, taking a few steps back to check if the light is fine in the viewfinder.

“Well it looks rather terrifying in here so good job guys.” You say, holding up two thumbs up as a small smile spreads across your lips.

“We try.” Colby smiles, shrugging his shoulders a little before he leans back against his arms on his spot on the mattress.

“You guys ready to start?” Sam asks as he adverts his gaze from the camera to you and the triplets.

“We were born ready.” Chris replies, a determined expression clear on his face as he nods faintly. Sam takes a quick glance over at Colby and waits for the male to give him a thumbs up before turning back towards the camera. Without warning, a spew of random sounds spill out of Sam’s mouth as he waves his arms about. Colby follows suit with the random shenanigan and you and the triplets laugh softly at the two before their actions come to a quick halt.

“It is ritual time.” Sam states as he clasps his hands together and glances over at all of you.

“Yay.” Nick says, his voice monotone as he wipes his mouth with his hand.

“Love the sound of that.” Matt comments, earning a small laugh from his two brothers.

“We are going to do something that we’ve never done before on this channel.” Sam starts, his tone nothing but serious as Nick and Chris let out small shouts of excitement. “We are going to be doing something called The Elevator Game.”

As Matt and Nick begin to clap softly, Chris speaks up. “That sounds like a very pleasing game to partake in.” The male jokes, earning a small snicker from you as you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter.

“You guys said you love elevators, right?”

“Big fans.” Nick replies with a small smile.

“I hate elevators.” Matt states, his comment drawing laughter from the four other boys in the room.

“Perfect!” As you take a quick glance over at Matt, Sam clears his throat for a moment before he continues, “That is very interesting because for this ritual, we need a singular volunteer.”

As Sam slowly looks over and locks eyes with Matt, the rest of the boys look over at the middle triplet with large smiles visible on their lips.

“Yes Matt!” Nick exclaims as he lightly nudges the said male's leg with his knee.

Chris reaches behind you to land a singular hand on the older’s shoulder. “Do you wanna volunteer or should we just rule you in?” The male asks as he pats his brother’s back a few times.

As you lean forward and take in a proper look at your boyfriend, a nervous expression can be seen clear as day on his face as he looks between all the boys in the room. You've known about Matt’s fear of elevators for a little while now. You knew the male would avoid them at all costs unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, the small mishap that occurred between him and Chris about a year or so ago was the reason why this fear of his became a thing.

During the duration of filming the collaboration with Sam and Colby, yourself and the triplets often took the elevator to travel between the different floors of the hotel you guys were investigating in. Matt, not wanting to draw attention to himself, dragged himself to the elevator everytime you guys went to a different floor. He always stayed in the corner closest to the door, being ready to exit the moment anything suspicious started happening.

Speaking of which, when the small malfunction in the elevator occurred when you guys and the tour guides went to go to a different floor and the elevator started acting up, you immediately picked up on Matt’s anxious behavior. When Sam mentioned that someone should step out to see if the same issue with the doors would happen, Matt immediately volunteered and practically ran out of the elevator and stayed outside for a little while until you guys sorted the situation out.

You had a feeling that Sam and Colby would ask Matt to do this Elevator Ritual when he mentioned his strong dislike for elevators. You knew that your boyfriend would immediately decline because that’s one of his fears but you also knew that the male wouldn’t wanna pass this opportunity up and seem like a pussy.

“I’ll go on the elevator.” Matt states, earning excited shouts from all the boys, more specifically Sam and Colby. You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend when he looks over at you. The male subtly takes your hand in his and squeezes your hand three times, signifying that he’ll be alright.

“Face that fear, Matt.” Chris says as he gently claps his hands together, a proud smile visible on his lips.

“So that means that Matt and I are going to go into the elevator and go through all 13 floors.” Sam says, his voice low as he looks over at the said male who sends him a little smile.

“That sounds wonderful.” Nick comments as he nods his head and gently pats Matt’s knee.

“Then you guys can stay in the lobby and be with-“

“Samantha!” Colby shouts, accidentally cutting the blonde off.

“Yes, Daddy Driskill and Samantha will be accompanying you guys while we do the ritual.” Sam nods, earning excited shouts from Nick and Chris.

“Yes! The big D!” Nick exclaims, excitement running through his veins as he claps a few times.

“I am going to explain the rules of The Elevator Game now.” Sam says as he looks straight into the camera. “Now, since the game is a summoning ritual, it is said to, if it works, take us to another plane of existence. I don’t exactly know if that will happen but it’s worth a shot.”

“Oh my God… That’s not terrifying at all.” Chris jokes as he lands a few playful pokes on Matt’s back. “You better be ready, kid.”

“Also very important note, there is a chance that we may never come back.” Sam adds, earning shocked exclamations from you and the triplets.

“Isn’t that lovely.” You say as you subconsciously begin to trace circles on the back of Matt’s hand with your thumb.

“Right? We might never come back.”

“Chris, I think that’s a sign that you and I should get our license. Who the hell is gonna drive us around if Matt doesn’t come back?” Nick asks, leaning forwards a little to lock eyes with Chris.

“Shit, you're right.” Chris mumbles, a single hand coming up to rub the side of his face. “Matt, please come back after you do the ritual. I really dont wanna have the responsibility of doing all the laundry.”

“As long as you guys don’t jinx me, I'm sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” Matt reassures as he lands a soft hit to Chris’ back.

“I agree with Matt. You guys can’t jinx us.” Sam says as he points a single finger towards all of you, causing you guys to all stick y’all’s hands up in defense. “Anyways, onto the rules.” The blonde digs in his pocket to fish his phone out. After unlocking the device, he pulls up the rules and instructions of the ritual. “So. We are going to have to push a series of buttons and make sure that no one else gets onto the elevator. If the whole place has 13 floors, which this hotel does, then it will summon something on the final floor. We will start in the lobby and go to four, two, six, back to two, ten, and then five. Five is the most haunted floor and the final bit of the ritual.”

“I love the sound of this guys. I’m so excited.” Matt says, sarcasm laced in his tone as looks down at his lap and uses his free hand to ruffle his hair.

“Are you regretting volunteering?” Chris asks, a small laugh escaping him as he takes in the older’s stressed state.

“Umm..” Matt starts as he lifts his head back up and looks ahead of him. “I’d rather it be me than you to be honest.” A unison of ‘oh!’s fill the room as Chris narrows his eyes at Matt. “I feel like you would just be better in the elevator than Chris would.” Matt adverts his statement to Nick as he reaches over to his left and lightly hits the older’s arm.

“Alrighty then. I guess that makes sense.” Chris says as he rubs the slight stubble forming on his chin.

“You just seem to be the person that’s less fit and prepared to do this.” Nick adds, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks over at the youngest triplet. As you stifle a laugh and cover your mouth, Chris’ jaw drops as a fake hurt expression spreads across his face.

“We got some sibling banter over here.” Sam says to the camera as he juts his thumb towards the three brothers. “Anyways, back to the rules of the game. Once we reach the fifth floor, the door will obviously open and it is said that on this said floor, especially knowing that it's the most haunted floor, a female spirit will walk into the elevator with us. To end the ritual, we must press one and go back to where you guys are.”

A few excited shouts fill the room as all the boys shake their fists. “However!” Sam exclaims, cutting off the shouting as he gently clasps his hands together.

“Of course there’s a however.” Nick mumbles, earning a small laugh from Colby as the red-head crosses his arms over his abdomen.

“Rituals can never be all cupcakes and rainbows, you know.” Sam says with a small smile before he diverts his attention back to the camera. “If the ritual is a success, the elevator won’t go to the lobby. It will go up and start ascending. If that happens, that means we’ve successfully summoned something into the elevator.”

“Are you serious?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sends the blonde a shocked expression.

“Is that when the chance of you guys not coming back comes into play?” You ask, a worried expression spreading across your face as you look up at Sam.

“Yes.” The blonde replies, softly nodding his head as he turns around and locks eyes with you.

“Some Willy Wonka shit is gonna happen then.” Nick jokes, trying to lighten the tense mood filling the room. It seems to work as soft laughter comes from you and the rest of the boys. “We’re just gonna hear a loud crash as the elevator flies out of the hotel.”

“We’re just gonna be flying into the oblivion.” Sam adds as he shoots his arm up to mimic the action of the elevator flying.

“Yeah, I will not be very happy if that happens.” Matt points a finger at Sam as the latter laughs softly. “If I get stuck in this elevator, I feel bad for Sam. That’s all ima say.”

“Awh.” Sam chuckles lightly as he brings a hand up to his chest. “Considering the amount of mishaps we’ve had with the elevator earlier, I really hope nothing bad happens.”

“If shit goes down after we’re done with the ritual, you guys are gonna be next.” Matt points both his pointer fingers towards Nick and Chris who hurriedly shake their heads.

“Let’s just hope you come back first.” Nick says as he lands a hand on Matt’s shoulder.

“They will come back, don’t worry.” Colby reassures as he looks over at Sam and gently nods his head.

“Well, we’ll never find that out if we don’t do it. So shall we get this ritual started?” Sam asks he turns towards all you guys, a large smile visible on his lips as he rubs his hands together.

“Hell yeah!” Chris exclaims as he slips off the mattress.

“Let’s all head to the lobby then.” As Sam walks up to the camera to shut it off, Nick and Colby follow Chris in exiting the room. After ensuring that the males leave and that Sam is busy with the camera, you look over at Matt who’s began to fiddle with the horse chain on his neck.

“You really wanna do this?” You whisper, your voice low as you lean in closer to your boyfriend.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just an elevator, right?” Matt replies as he looks over at you. As he sends you a small smile, you gently nod your head and slip off the bed. You stick your hand out to Matt, who quickly takes it and allows you to pull him up to his feet. Before following Sam out the door, you land a quick kiss on Matt’s temple before guiding him out of the room.

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Upon arriving in the lobby, Sam and Colby begin to set up their equipment as you and the triplets patiently wait in front of the elevator.

“Alright.” Sam begins as he adjusts his hold on the camera in his hand before turning it on. “Any thoughts before we start Matt?”

“Umm…” Matt starts as he begins to rock back and forth on his heels. “I have to say that the nausea I’ve been feeling for the past five minutes or so has increased significantly.”

“You’ve been feeling nauseous?” Colby asks, adverting his focus from the camera in his hand to look over at Matt, a worried expression clear on his face as he glances over at Sam. The two ghost hunters share a worried look before Nick speaks up.

“We’ve all been feeling a little nauseous.” Nick begins as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I started feeling it when we sat down to eat, Matt started feeling it five minutes ago, y/n started feeling it when we were giving candy offerings to Samantha, and Chris felt it the second we got here.”

“That doesn’t sound very good…” Sam says, his voice trailing off as he gestures Colby to grab something in the backpack. “Maybe we should sage you guys again before we start the ritual.”

“Should we do it here or go outside?” Colby asks as he digs inside the backpack laying at his feet.

“We can do it here.” Colby gently nods his head before bringing the sage out. He gestures you and the triplets to stand in a line before he quickly waves the sage around the four of you. “That should do it. If you guys keep feeling nauseous, we can take a break.”

“We appreciate it guys.” You say with a small smile.

“Of course. Safety comes first.” Sam says, earning a firm head nod from Colby. “Anyways, you ready to start?” Sam turns the camera to Matt and gently pats his shoulder a few times.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Matt replies with a gentle head nod.

“Are you not gonna say goodbye to your siblings and girlfriend? You may never see them again if the ritual works.” Colby asks as he gestures towards you, Nick, and Chris.

Matt turns around and sticks his arm out to Nick, who sends him a glare before hesitantly shaking his hand.

“A hand shake?” Colby laughs softly as Nick wraps his arms around Matt and brings him in for a quick embrace. “See, that’s much better.” After pulling away, Chris and Matt share a firm handshake before also sharing a quick hug.

“Okay, I’ll start googling places where we can get our licenses.” Nick says softly as he brings a hand up to rub his nape.

“Dude, I’m not dead yet…” Matt says, a hurtful expression spreading across his face as he pulls away from Chris who smacks his chest a few times.

“Yet.” Sam repeats, a small laugh escaping his lips as he watches Matt playfully shove Chris back. As the younger giggles softly, Matt turns to you, his gaze softening as he immediately brings you in for an embrace. Collective ‘awh’s come from all the boys when Matt lands a quick peck on your lips and forehead.

“Leave your license behind before you go to another universe please.” Nick says, earning a rapid head nod from Chris. After pulling away from the hug, Matt shakes his head and digs in his pocket to pull out his wallet. As he wordlessly hands Nick his wallet, Chris comes up behind him and grabs both his shoulders.

“I call dibs on that one jacket in your closet by the way.” Chris says, a large smile plastered on his lips as he massages the older’s shoulders.

“Wonderful, alright. We’re all just claiming all my shit.” Matt says with a soft laugh. As the male turns to face you, he raises an eyebrow when he takes in your smiley face. “You too?”

“I only want a few stuff.” You defend as you hold up your hand and pinch your pointer finger and thumb together.

“Yeah, okay. Like that’s believable.” As Matt laughs and shakes his head gently, the sound of the elevator dinging causes all of you to quickly turn around.

“What the fuck?” Colby mumbles, his face falling as he looks into the empty elevator.

“Did you guys push anything?” Sam asks as he points a finger at you and the triplets.

“No. Swear to God we didn’t.” Nick defends as he holds both his hands up.

“It’s fucking midnight.” Colby states after his eyes scan over the numbers plastered on the top of his Lock Screen. He shows the camera his phone to ensure that he's telling the truth before turning the device to you and the rest of the boys.

“I personally would not go in there.” Chris says as he wraps his arms around his torso, a nervous expression clear on his face.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” You add as you reach your hand out to grab Matt’s.

“Well, we can’t back out now. It is twelve o’clock after all.” Sam says, a heavy exhale leaving his lips as he looks over at Colby, the two locking eyes for a moment. “I think that we should start this ritual before more weird shit happens.”

“Please be careful.” You say, your voice firm as you look up at Matt. The male looks down at you and gently cups the side of your face with a single hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheek in hopes of calming your sudden anxiety spike.

“We will, don’t worry.” Sam reassures as he begins to walk towards the elevator. He looks inside the small space for a moment, ensuring that nothing and no one is inside before he hesitantly steps in. “You coming?”

Matt quickly shifts his gaze from you to Sam who’s standing at the back of the elevator. “Yeah, I'm coming.” Matt replies. Before the male enters the elevator, he bends down a little to capture his lips in yours. He pulls back after a few seconds and gently caresses your face before joining Sam in the elevator.

“You two be safe.” Chris calls as he moves to take a stand in between you and Nick.

“Yeah, come back please!” Nick adds as he subconsciously wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him.

“We’ll be back, promise.” Sam reassures as he sets a small device in the middle of the elevator.

“Wait, I need photos for the prayer cards.” Nick states, a hand quickly digging in his pocket to fish his phone out. As he opens his camera and faces it towards Matt, the male holds up a small v, practically posing for the camera. You can’t help but giggle at the sight before Nick smiles proudly and puts his phone away.

“Alright, we’re gonna start now guys.” Sam states as he walks up a few steps, his frame being inches away from the entrance of the elevator. After looking over at Matt and gaining a firm head nod from him, the two begin the ritual.

“Please take us to another world.” Matt and Sam say in unison. The blonde reaches over to push a button to close the elevator and takes a few steps back to stand next to Matt. At the sight of the door closing, the male shouts out a small ‘oh god!’, a mix of fear and anxiousness filling his body as he eyes the door.

“Matt, I love you have fun.” Nick says as he makes a small heart with both his hands. Matt sends the red-head a small smile before the doors finally close.

“I really hope nothing bad happens.” Chris mumbles as he shakes his head slightly, nervousness bubbling in him as he stares at the closed elevator doors.

“Me too.” Colby agrees as he forces his lips together in a straight line. The male momentarily turns his back to you and the two brothers to dig inside his backpack. After a few moments of searching, he pulls out two EMF readers and holds them out in front of him. “Which one of you guys would like to have the honors in holding one?”

“I would love to have one.” Nick says, a small smile appearing on his lips as he bounces on his heels a few times.

“Me too.” You add, landing a hand on Nick’s shoulder as the two of you step closer to Colby. The latter gently nods his head and hands the two of you an EMF reader.

“Okay, how should we start this?” Colby asks as he leans his backpack against the wall and focuses the camera on you three.

“We can start walking around to see if we get anything on the EMF readers.” You suggest with a small shrug. Colby nods his head at your suggestion and gestures for you and Nick to begin walking around with his hand.

“Wait, didn’t the tour guide say that-“

“Your reader is going off!” Chris exclaims, accidentally cutting his older brother off as he points to the said device with his pointer finger. The youngest triplet seems to be correct as Nick looks down at the EMF reader in his hand and sees the device light up the first three levels.

“You got anything yet y/n?” Colby asks as he zooms the lenses into Nick’s EMF reader to capture the activity.

“Nope. Nothing yet.” You reply softly as you begin to walk a bit further away from the group, your eyes being locked onto the device in your hand the entire time.

“The tour guide said that the bathroom is one of the most haunted places.” Nick states as he begins to gently wave the EMF reader about, trying to get it to spike up any further. “I think we should go see if we get any activity over there.”

“Great idea, let’s head over there. Lead the way.” Colby gently nods his head towards Nick to encourage the male to lead the group to the bathrooms. The red-head complies and begins to walk towards a hallway a little ways to the right, the three of you following close behind him.

“Let’s see…” Nick mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. While you and the male walk around and inside the bathrooms, ya’ll don’t get much activity apart from a few spikes that went to yellow.

“Let’s go back to the elevator. We’re not getting much.” You say as you walk out of the women’s bathroom, the door shutting behind you and coming in contact with the heels of your shoes.

Colby nods his head and waits for Nick to return from the male’s bathroom before you guys walk back to the elevator. The moment you stand next to the elevator, your EMF reader spikes all the way to red.

“Mine just went to red.” You say, your voice a little louder than usual to gain the attraction of the three males in the room.

“Holy shit.” Colby mumbles as he quickly makes his way over to you. As he zooms his lens into the device in your hand, Nick and Chris come up to the other side of you and look down at your EMF reader. “Nick, you getting anything?”

“Mines still at yellow.” The red-head replies, momentarily turning the reader so it can face the camera before he turns it back to face him.

“Maybe we should pull out the onvoy and see if we get anything. You know, considering how much activity we’ve been getting around here already.” Colby suggests as he walks back to his backpack and pulls it open.

“What’s that?” Chris asks, his head tilting slightly as he watches the ghost hunger pull a device out of his bag.

“It’s basically a device that gives us yes or no responses through questions we ask.” Colby explains as he crouches down and sets the device on the floor. After turning it on and waiting for it to light up, he looks up at the three of you who are already intently looking at him. “Something just has to physically tap it like so for us to get a response.” Colby sets his pointer finger on the device for a moment and awaits for it to beep a few times and light up yes before he pulls away.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult.” You ponder aloud as you take a momentarily glance towards the EMF reader in your hand.

“It’s not difficult whatsoever. Would you guys like to start asking some questions?”

“Absolutely.” Chris replies with a small smile as the three of you take a seat around the onvoy.

“If there are any spirits that would like to communicate with us tonight, please make yourself known by using this device to answer our questions. All you have to do is come up and touch it to let us know what your thoughts are.” Colby calls out, his head turning around a few times before he turns his focus back to you and the two brothers.

“What should we ask first?” Nick asks gently, his eyes staying fixed on the EMF reader in his hand.

“Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris asks, anxiousness laced in his tone as he practically stares down at the onvoy. A few beats of silence pass by before the device dings a few times.

Colby lets out a small gasp of surprise at the sound and leans in close to the onvoy. “It says yes!” The male exclaims happily as he zooms the lens into the response.

The moment the male reads that aloud, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts the four of you. Quickly, you all turn around and collectively let out sighs of relief as the doors open and reveal Sam and Matt.

“You’re done already?” Nick asks, his mouth agape as he watches the two males step out of the elevator rather quickly.

“Yeah, we practically flew through all the floors.” Matt replies, a small, proud smile visible on his lips as he approaches the four of you who are still sitting on the floor. When the male stands behind you, you quickly turn your body to face him, a large smile spreading across your lips, as you immediately reach for your boyfriend’s hand. As you caress it gently and bring his hand up to your lips to land a small kiss on his knuckles, Sam takes a stand next to him.

“Did you guys get anything?” The blonde asks as he stashes the device him and Matt were using in the elevator in his pocket.

“No.” Colby replies with a frown. “We literally asked a single question.”

“Yeah, the one question I asked is ‘Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris adds as he gets himself up from the floor and dusts his pants off a little. “The moment it said yes, the door opened.”

“It was crazy timing.” Nick comments as he follows suit in getting up off the floor.

“Really?” Sam asks, his jaw dropping slightly as he looks over at Colby with pure shock in his face.

“Really.” Nick confirms with a firm head nod. “We didn’t have time to ask a bunch of questions. Chris was the only person that got to ask a question.”

“Well, Sam and I encountered no issues while we were doing the ritual. We went through all the floors with ease. However, we didn’t really get anything with the device we were using. I mean, we did get a few words but I found them to be more random than anything.”

“Yeah, that has got to be the fastest ritual we’ve ever experienced.” Colby comments, his head gently nodding as he looks between Sam and Matt.

“It was pretty easy, nothing too difficult.” Matt says, his gaze falling to yours and his intertwined fingers.

“Would you like to do it again then? But by yourself this time?” Sam inquires, a single eyebrow raising as he looks over at the brunette.

Silence fills the lobby as you all stare at Matt, awaiting for his response. You manage to catch your boyfriend’s face falling slightly as he looks over at Sam, his eyes slightly wide as he locks eyes with him. Sensing the male’s sudden anxiety spike, you begin to play with his fingers in hopes of grounding him a little.

Matt blinks hardly a few times as he looks down at you, his eyes basically pleading for you to answer the question for him. At the brunette’s gaze, you pick your free hand up and land a soft poke on his chest, signaling that it’s his call. You watch as the male sighs before he picks his head back up and looks up at his two brothers who shrug at him. Matt forces his lips together and looks over at Sam, his right hand coming up to his nape as he locks eyes with the blonde.

“I would- I don’t-“ Matt sputters, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he digs in the pocket of his pants. “I’d have to write down the numbers…”

“Is that a yes then?” Sam asks, excitement glossing over his eyes as he zooms the lens onto the male in front of him. After Matt gently nods his head in response, collective shouts of encouragement sounds from you and the boys.

“You sure you wanna do it alone?” Chris asks as he walks up to the brunette, a single hand coming up to rest it on his brother's shoulder. “The chance of you never coming back is still there. You’ll be fully alone in another universe.” At the younger’s statement, Nick lands a harsh hit on Chris’s bicep, signaling him to shut up with an intense glare.

“Well, you guys better start looking up ways to get me back if the ritual actually works.” Matt replies, a nervous smile overtaking his features as he begins to fiddle with the horse chain around his neck.

Colby goes to add onto the conversation however, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts all six of you. You all turn around to face the elevator, fear running through y’all’s bodies at the sight of the doors opening more slower than usual.

“I think that’s a sign, Matt.” Sam says as he lands a hand on the said male’s shoulder.

“I guess I’ll go then. Could you text me the numbers?” Matt asks with a soft sigh. As Sam gently nods his head and fishes his phone out of his pocket, Colby walks up to the brunette.

“You wanna take this camera?” The ghost hunter asks as he holds the said device out in front of him.

“Sure.” Colby sends Matt a small smile when the male hesitantly takes the camera from him.

“Matt, please be careful. Like I'm being so for real. I have no idea what we would do without you.” Nick says, a frown overtaking his features as he walks up the middle triplet and lands both his hands on his shoulders.

“I will, don’t worry. If you guys focus on asking questions, I will be back in no time.” Matt reassures, a comforting smile spreading across his lips as he brings the red-head in for a quick embrace.

“Wait, me too. I want a hug as well.” Chris whines as he quickly makes his way over to the three of you. Nick pulls away with a small eye roll and steps aside to allow the younger to get his hug.

“I sent you the numbers. You can head in when you’re ready.” Sam says, his voice soft as he picks his head up and looks over at Matt, the hand that’s holding his phone digging inside his pocket to put the said device away.

“Word.” Matt replies. After Chris breaks away from the hug and steps back, Matt looks over at you and takes in your worried features. “I promise I’ll be alright. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend gently cups your face with his free hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing over your soft skin.

You gently nod your head, the faint frown on your lips not faltering as you look deep into your boyfriend’s blue irises that hold a sense of anxiousness. Matt brings your face closer to his to bring you in for a quick kiss. Before pulling away, he nibbles on your bottom lip for a moment.

The brunette removes his hand from your face and gives you a small smile before he turns around to face Sam. “I’m ready.” The male says.

“Alright, go ahead and step in.” Sam instructs as he gestures towards the open and empty elevator. Matt immediately does as instructed and hesitantly steps inside the elevator, a heavy sigh escaping him as he raises the hand that’s holding the camera. “You know what to say.” The blonde says with a smile as he gives the younger male a thumbs up with his free hand.

Matt looks straight at the camera, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to drag over his slightly chapped lips momentarily, before he begins the ritual. “Please take me to another world. I may regret saying that but hey, see you guys later.” Matt takes a final glance at all of you standing a few steps away from the doors of the elevator before he steps toward the panel full of bottoms.

“We love you Matt!” Chris exclaims, both his hands coming up to cup over his mouth to get his voice to project more loudly.

“Be safe!” You add, sliding over to Nick and wrapping an arm around his. You manage to catch Matt waving goodbye before the doors of the elevator finally shut.

“Guys, go subscribe to the Sturniolos.” Sam states as he turns the camera in his hand and points at it.

“And comment about how ballsy Matt is. I’m actually so shocked about how he’s been doing this whole investigation. He’s usually never this open and talkative during stuff like this.” Nick says as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, I'm actually really proud of him. He's doing phenomenal.” Colby compliments as he gently claps a few times.

“Let’s just hope he hasn’t been too open today. We don’t want him to get any-“ Sam gets cut off by Colby harshly digging his elbow into his side. The blonde winces softly and flinches at the touch, his eyes narrowing as he sends a glare towards his friend.

“Get any what?” You ask, panic flooding in you as you take in Colby’s serious expression.

“Nothing. We should start asking some questions before Matt comes back.” Colby replies, a small smile appearing on his lips as he turns back around. You share a worried look with Nick and Chris before the three of you, including Sam, join Colby in sitting on the floor around the onvoy. “Who would like to ask the first question?”

“I would.” Nick says, picking his head up to lock eyes with Colby. After gaining a small head nod from the male, he takes a deep inhale before speaking, “Was sending Matt alone a good decision?” A few beats of silence pass by before the onvoy dings. Nick bends down slightly to read the response. “Yes!”

“Will Matt find more information regarding what happened at the hotel?” Chris asks as he brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. The onvoy dings seconds after the question. “No…”

“Alright..” You mumble. You clear your throat before asking your question, “Will someone join Matt in the elevator when he reaches the fifth floor?” Like earlier, the onvoy immediately dings as it lights up a response. “Yes. Well isn’t that nice. Doesn’t make my anxiety worse at all.”

The boys all giggle at your statement as you rub your face with both your hands.

“Is Matt in any danger?” Sam asks, momentarily turning the camera around to put himself in the frame before he turns it back around. Again, the onvoy immediately dings a response. You and the boys take a moment to pause and exchange anxious looks before yall lean in and read the response.

“Yes.”

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

20 minutes have gone by as you and the boys took turns asking questions to the spirits willing to communicate with you guys. Some of the questions have gotten rapid responses while others have taken a little longer to reply. As time slowly ticked away, you felt anxiety bubble inside of you. Matt should’ve been back by now considering how he and Sam returned in less than 10 minutes when they did the ritual. You found yourself continuously looking over at the closed elevator everytime someone else in the group spoke up to ask a question, hoping that the doors would open and reveal your boyfriend. Unfortunately it never happened and the doors remained shut.

“Okay, I'm getting really worried. He should be back by now.” You say, your gaze on the closed elevator doors shifting up to the number 10 glowing brightly in large, bold lettering.

“Well, he’s on the tenth floor right now. All he has to do is go to five and come back.” Sam says as he takes a seat against the wall facing the elevator, his arms coming up to cross over his chest.

“Okay true but what’s taking him so long?” Nick asks, a single hand coming up to his mouth. As the red-head begins to bite on his polished nails, Chris takes a glance over at your focused state. He forces his lips into a straight line, worry and anxiety filling his veins at the thought of Matt not returning.

“He’s at five.” Colby states as he points at the glowing number atop the elevator. The rest of the boys join you and the ghost hunter in looking over at the elevator.

“Please come back.” You whisper under your breath, a sudden lump forming in your throat as you swallow dryly. As you shakily exhale, a sudden poke on your side causes you to jump rather harshly. “What the fuck?” You mumble as you quickly hug your torso and turn around.

“What happened?” Chris asks, his head whipping around to look over at you.

“Did one of you guys poke me?” You ask as you lift your head up.

“None of us touched you.” Colby says as he lifts both his hands up in the air. A wave of nausea suddenly hits you as you slowly turn around to look at Sam, the sight of him looking at you worriedly causing your stomach to churn. As you go to question the blonde, soft giggles bubble up your throat as you feel a series of rapid pokes travel down your other side. After the feeling vanishes, you stumble to your feet and run over to where Nick and Chris are, fear washing over you as you desperately rub your sides to try and get the ghostly feeling away.

“Samantha.” Sam mumbles under his breath, his eyes slightly going wide as he looks over at your panicked state.

“Samantha, if that's you, please leave her alone. You do not have permission to touch her.” Colby states, his tone holding a sense of authority as he takes a few quick glances around the room.

At the mention of the child’s name, Nick’s eyes widen in a mix of terror and shock and he quickly looks down at you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your slightly shorter frame and brings you flush against him.

“Samantha, are you messing with y/n?” Chris asks as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, his gaze falling to the unused onvoy on the floor.

The said device immediately beeps in response.

Colby lifts himself up from the wall he’s leaning against and walks up to the onvoy. His tall frame bends down slightly before his eyes skim over the response.

“It says yes.” Colby says, his gaze lifting up from the device and shifting over to Sam. The two share a frightened look as you feel your heart drop to your feet. You quickly turn around and bury your face in Nick’s clothed chest, your breath beginning to pick up as you clutch onto the male’s arms rather desperately.

“It’s okay.” Nick whispers as he rests his chin on the top of your head. As he begins to rub comforting circles on your back with his palm, the sound of the elevator dinging pierces your ears. You quickly lift your head and look over at the elevator, the rest of the boys soon doing the same.

“Matt?” You call out, your voice cracking slightly as you slip out of Nick’s hold and run to the elevator.

“y/n wait!” Chris exclaims, his arm extending out to go to grab you and pull you back. His attempt fails however as you slip through the opening of the elevator, not even waiting for the door to fully open. The moment you step inside, you feel your breath get caught in your throat .

Matt isn’t in the elevator.

And the only thing inside is the camera and his horse necklace.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner @rootbeerworshiper

comment to be added to the taglist and click here to know more abt it!

#nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt x reader #nick x reader #chris x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #paranormal #sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #The elevator game

750 notes · View notes

dreamaze · 2 years

Text

if anyone is looking for a silly fun podcast and wants to feel nostalgic about and/or laugh over the ridiculousness of disney channel original movies between circa 1995 and 2005, i can't recommend Mom Can't Cook: A DCOM Podcast enough

#it's hosted by two of my favorite video game YouTuber journalists and i love them skdjdjs luke's laugh is infectious #there are only a few episodes out so far and I've listened to all but the latest twice bc i need something fun during monotonous work #but also i have to stifle my laughter at my desk

1 note · View note

engstlersslut · 10 days

Text

Fact-Checking│ E. Engstler

pairing: emily engstler x reader genre: fluff, comedy warnings: suggestive towards the end but nothing too crazy word count: 940 summary: emily catches you doing a little bit of your daily fact-checking.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰〰•★•〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

Your amused giggles could be heard over the sound of the shower, grabbing Emily's attention and bringing a smile to her face. She had just returned home from practice and had gone straight to the shower after greeting you with a brief kiss.

Once she finished showering and completed her post-shower routine, Emily returned to the bedroom and climbed into bed next to you, ready to relax. Picking up her book from her bedside table, she got comfortable and began reading.

Emily was only about two pages in when your giggles picked back up. Casting a quick glance your way, she attempted to shake off the curiosity and turn her focus back to the words littering the pages of the book in her hands. However, her efforts were useless.

"What are you looking at?" She questioned after reading the same page over for the fifth time.

"Huh?" Was all you responded with, not tearing your gaze away from your phone.

"What are you looking at that's so funny?"

"Oh, uh, nothing." You shifted your position slightly to keep her from looking at the device in your hands.

"Babe, let me see." She leaned further into your space, only to be met with more resistance from you.

"Nuh-uh. Not happening." You extended the arm holding your phone over the side of the bed away from her.

With a challenging look in her eyes, Emily leaped into action, reaching over for the phone and initiating a wrestling match. You fought against her as best as you could, but with her long arms and tall stature, she confiscated your phone in no time.

"Em, baby, I'm telling you now," You warned her. "You don't want to look at that." She ignored you, settling back onto her side of the bed and examining the contents of your screen. A few moments of silence passed before she finally spoke again.

"What is this?" She questioned, confusion evident in her features.

"A story," You responded warily, watching for her reaction. "Of sorts."

"About me?" She looked taken aback as she continued to take in what she was reading.

"Uh-huh." You nodded.

"And why are you reading it?"

"Why not?" You shrugged. "You're fans have been sending me links to them on Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok for weeks now. I ignored them, at first, but then I got curious. So, I started going through them."

"And?" She finally turned to look at you.

"And then I fell down a rabbit hole. Some of them are actually really good. They are so well-written and creative. It's interesting." You explained. "It's also kinda funny to see some of the things your fans come up with and how they perceive you. I like to consider my daily perusal as fact-checking, you know? To see how accurately they depict you in their writing."

"I'm sure." She tried to seem nonchalant and almost monotone about it, but you knew her and caught the glint of amusement in her eyes.

"Seriously! You should see some of the more R-rated stuff they put out there about you." You wiggled your eyebrows at her. "Very fascinating."

"No thanks." She chuckled, tossing your phone over to you. "The idea actually terrifies me."

"Whatever. You're really missing out." You said, scrolling through your phone. "Look! Here's one. I'll read it to you. Just let me skip to the good part."

"Please don't." She whined, rubbing a hand down her face.

"Her hands drifted lower as she peppered kisses along your neck." You began reading, a smug smirk on your face, aware of the blush spreading across her cheeks. "You released a breathy moan as her lips attached to the sweet spot below your ear. 'Emily', you called out to her. 'Touch me, please.' You-"

"Enough!" She groaned, yanking the phone from your hand and shoving it under her pillow. "Going to sleep now." She turned over and threw the blanket over her head.

Your loud laughter filled the room at your girlfriend's distress. You clutched your sides as they began to cramp from lack of oxygen. Once you finally calmed down, you leaned over and pulled the cover down, revealing her red face.

"I'm glad you find humor in torturing me." She scoffed.

"I'm only teasing."

"So funny." She deadpanned.

"Honestly though," You spoke, "It's kind of cool how dedicated your fans are. They really do love you, Em. Yeah, it might seem kind of weird because it's about you, but this is just their way of connecting with you in their own way."

"Yeah, you're right." She nodded, pulling you down to lay on the bed and cuddling into you. "But, please, don't put me through that again. I don't mind that they write that kind of stuff, or if you read it, but I can't bear to see or hear it myself."

"You sure?" You chuckled at her pleading. "Maybe we could draw some inspiration from some of these. Especially in the bedroom. I meant it when I said some of your fans can get really creative."

"Shut up and go to sleep." She poked your ribs in response to your teasing.

"I really think-"

"Goodnight." She interrupted before you could finish your sentence.

"Goodnight." You chuckled, turning around in her arms. "I love you, Em."

"I love you, too." She leaned in, connecting her lips to yours in a sweet kiss, to which you reciprocated. Sighing happily as you pulled away, you decided to give it a rest for the night, with a promise to yourself to continue your job of being a complete pain in her ass tomorrow after a good night's rest.

✦•〰〰〰〰〰〰•★•〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

a/n: not really sure if i like the way this turned out but whatever. here's some more emily content for you guys.

#emily engstler #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler x y/n #washington mystics #wnba #wnba basketball #isa.writes

387 notes · View notes

pedgito · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.

cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)

word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four

The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.

Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.

The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”

“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“

“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”

Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.

“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.

The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.

“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.

There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.

“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”

“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”

“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”

His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.

“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”

And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.

He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.

He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.

“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”

A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.

“So—are you a therapist?”

He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”

The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.

“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.

“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”

He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.

He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—

“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”

Outside of being a professor, obviously.

Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”

Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”

You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.

The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.

And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.

The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.

Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.

“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”

“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest

“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”

Really fucking crooked.

He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.

He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”

“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.

Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.

You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.

“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”

You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.

You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.

And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.

☆.｡.:*

“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?

Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.

It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.

“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.

The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.

The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.

“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”

Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.

“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”

You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.

“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”

“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”

“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.

You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.

At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.

“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”

“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”

And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.

“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.

“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”

The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.

You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.

“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”

The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.

It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.

“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.

The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.

Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?

Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.

And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.

From what you’ve seen, at least.

“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.

“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”

One hell of a fucking coincidence.

“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”

Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.

“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.

“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.

Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.

The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.

“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”

There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.

“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.

“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”

And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.

“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.

This was too weird.

“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.

Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“

It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.

“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”

“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”

And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.

But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.

And not secretly—very, very openly.

“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.

“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.

You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.

“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”

“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”

He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.

“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”

“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.

He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.

You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”

Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.

“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.

“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.

“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”

Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”

You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.

“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.

“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”

“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.

It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.

“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”

You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.

“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”

Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.

You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?

“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”

You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.

“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”

“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.

You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.

“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”

“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”

“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”

“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”

“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”

When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”

Saying it makes it even weirder.

“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”

The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.

Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.

“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”

And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.

“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”

“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”

You nod hesitantly.

Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.

☆.｡.:*

“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.

“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“

“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”

Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.

“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.

“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “

You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.

“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.

“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.

“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”

Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”

Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.

It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.

He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.

It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.

☆.｡.:*

Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.

You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.

It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”

And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.

“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”

It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.

Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?

When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”

It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”

Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.

“He drove you here?” She asks.

“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”

You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.

“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“

“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.

“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”

Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.

“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”

You nod slowly, absorbing the information.

“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”

“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”

“What does he teach again?”

“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.

“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”

There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”

“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.

“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”

“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”

“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”

“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”

“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.

“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.

“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”

“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.

“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“

And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”

Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”

Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.

“Give me a ride.”

Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.

☆.｡.:*

“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”

You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.

“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”

His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.

The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.

“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”

“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”

“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“

“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…

“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”

“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”

“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.

“Max?”

“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.

“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”

“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”

You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.

“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”

Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”

“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”

You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.

“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”

“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.

“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.

Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”

You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.

“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”

“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.

“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”

And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.

“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”

“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.

If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.

“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”

Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.

Which, yes, you absolutely were.

You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.

He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.

Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.

You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”

You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”

The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.

“Wanna let go now, sir?”

Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time, hopefully.”

It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.

You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.

☆.｡.:*

He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.

He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.

“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”

It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.

And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.

He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.

It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.

Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.

“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.

“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.

“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.

It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”

“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”

He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.

“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”

Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.

“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.

“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.

“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.

“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.

“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“

He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.

“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”

“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”

“I thought it was really good.”

Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.

The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.

“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”

It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.

A different bar, same band; one night only.

“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”

Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”

You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.

“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.

He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.

“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.

There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.

“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.

And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.

☆.｡.:*

The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”

“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.

“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”

“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”

“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”

The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.

She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”

It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.

“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”

“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”

Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.

“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.

“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.

“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”

“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.

It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.

You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.

But to you, it was worth it.

You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.

He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.

Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?

It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.

☆.｡.:*

“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.

“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“

Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.

“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”

“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”

Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.

☆.｡.:*

The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.

It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.

“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.

“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”

“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.

He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”

It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.

“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”

“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.

“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”

“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”

“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”

He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.

“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”

What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.

“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”

“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”

“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.

“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”

“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.

Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.

“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”

“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”

Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.

It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.

“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.

“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”

And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.

There was no turning back now.

His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.

Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.

It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.

The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.

“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”

“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.

“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.

Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.

At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.

“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”

And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.

“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”

Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”

“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.

“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”

It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.

“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”

His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.

“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“

Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.

Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.

“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”

Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.

“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”

You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”

His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.

“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“

All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.

And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.

“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”

He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.

“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”

It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.

Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.

“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.

Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”

“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.

The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.

Who speaks first?

He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.

“I’m—“

“Should I—“

The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.

He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.

“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”

He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.

“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”

Not a fucking chance.

“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”

It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.

And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.

But to Eddie, it's shame.

Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.

And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.

He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.

It was exactly what you wanted.

author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

9K notes · View notes