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zarnzarn · 8 months

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i see all these comments talking about this after the new episode, but. i would like to state for the record that stolitz isn't. toxic.

first off, the concept of a toxic and a healthy relationship are such... vague terms. when you're online, drenched in language and tight moral boundaries, trying to put a nuanced story like helluva boss's into boxes is easy to attempt and impossible to do.

a toxic relationship is one where one or both parties is maliciously affecting the other. I'm talking fetid, nasty, rude interactions where there is more hurt than love. they're unhappy more often than not when they're with their partner, there's no respect or give from the other side.

stolitz is nothing like that.

Stolas actively cares about Blitz and actually has no fear or hesitation in ADMITTING IT OUT LOUD TO OZZIE. he has been calling, texting, commenting, laughing and finding ways to spend time with Blitz. he's throwing everything he has to the wind, finding the courage to move forward with the divorce, putting everything he has into trying to keep him. he's been alone in a palace since he was born, on medication, with such less people dear to him that he remembered the circus boy who spent a day with him DECADES ago- so when blitz comes into his life and brings back in laughter and color and sex, he's holding on with everything he's got.

and blitz does care!!! he cares a LOT, the whole series we see him falling in love with stolas through SHOW NOT TELL (his expressions, his choices, his fear, his lashing out) and utterly unable to process that stolas cares about him too when talking to fizz; almost a desperate kind of denial-

cause yknow. the first time he tried to confess something to someone he really liked, he accidentally killed half the people he knew and ruined the lives of the rest?

thats gonna leave just a teensy impact on the will to express your emotions in the future, methinks.

even before that, he clearly felt like on some level that he was unworthy and he's said twice that he despises himself for the accident even though it wasn't actually his fault. being self aware doesn't stop the emotions from emotioning.

he keeps insisting its only sex so urgently to anyone who doesn't ask because he can't even imagine it being anything else. he's both disappointed and relieved when he repeats that stolas sees him as a novelty, because what else can it be?

(there's a whole other spiel of how brave both Stolas and Blitz have to be to say it out loud even when asmodeus can't afford to, considering how publically and completely beaten down both were at the club.)

(there's also another whole spiel about how frustrating it has been for ME to see all these comments over time with such bad takes based on like,, 20 min worth of info of a show that takes months to release an ep. like godDAMN have some patience?? let the story UNFOLD MAYBE? IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO HAVE AN EXPLANATION WHY WOULD YOU CRITICIZE THINGS THAT ARENT EVEN FINISHED ESPECIALLY AN INDIE ANIMATION- i digress)

mind you, this has NOTHING to do with abuse. an abusive relationship is one where one is actively harming the other with full awareness. Stella is an abuser and their marriage is abusive.

and stolitz isn't that; it isn't even unhealthy or toxic. it's a consensual, transactional fuckbuddy relationship that slid into something more for both of them.

but!!!!! one of the main reasons for the problems that everyone looks over is-

they're in a BDSM relationship.

I can't possibly delve into dynamics without making this a 10k research paper BUT even though we've gotten only hints and costumes and dialogue- they're very clearly and undeniably in a BDSM contract. Behind the scenes of this crazy show is a whole different story, of these two delving into the most hardcore kinks out there- knifeplay, painplay, bondage.

if you've gotten into the community, if you've read a couple dozen particularly good fics by authors who know what they're talking about, hell; even if your only experience is fifty shades or 365 or whatever- you gotta know that BDSM scenes are crazy fucking emotionally heavy. there's so much that has gone down between them during their full moons that helluva can't get into!!

but you know how in so many of these popular medias and fics, the dom in the relationship is also like,, the billionaire/mafia heir/prince, etc, the one with financial and physical power? this isnt that. it has been very clearly stated that stolas is subbing, blitz is domming.

now take a moment and think about how much that fucks up the dynamics.

in stolas' eyes, blitz is a confident, dangerous individual who's an old friend and cherished memory of his, who he's trusted wholly with his safety during sex and he's lucky to have; and he has been in an abusive arranged marriage for the past eighteen Years, he's probably not going to be pushing his luck with his dom that much in the first place. plus, blitz is never cowed by him during their conversations- think back to the first phone call right after he stole the book, completely unafraid.

and for blitz, it's someone trusting him again- but it's also a royal- a blue blood who's nearly untouchable and so much more powerful- who couldn't possibly like a piece of shit like him, apart from the sex he gets out of it. he only flirts once he gets some sort of cue from Stolas; he's desperately trying to view this as only a Goetia trying to get his rocks off, despite all the evidence to the contrary, because anything else is unfathomable to him, no matter how clearly Stolas shows it, because of the ptsd.

both of them thinks the other has the power. both of them aren't expecting the other to keep shut if something's bothering them.

and there's so much conflicting messages from the other too!

stolas calls him a plaything when trying to intimidate the humans; stolas cups his face gently and asks if he's alright

blitz asks him on a date and tells him to get better soon; blitz yells that it's only sex and doesn't reply to his messages

ya see?

bring it to fizzozzie for a second now; even though they do look all good on surface, you can still see fizz's trauma and doubt in all their interactions, they're still forced to keep the relationship secret. do you see his face when Ozzie says in hyperbole that he's never leaving the house again, or when someone accuses him of being a pampered house pet or when he got sexualized in the 7th ep? whatever happened in the interim between the accident with mammon, it fucked him UP. even though oz seems to be well aware of this when he tells him not to apologise and in their general interactions, fizz still visibly has trouble separating plaything/commodity from healthy relationship.

shout the fuck out to Ozzie btw, man knows whats UP. rooting for these two so much omg.

i forgot where I was going with this point, I'll edit it when i remember. but yeah! lovely fucking relationship, but damn what angst filled issues.

anyway, to sum up- stolitz is not a toxic relationship. the relationship is stuck sludging through misunderstandings and careless microaggressions and trauma responses, but it's not unhealthy or toxic because of the simple reason that most of the current hurt comes from... a misunderstanding. stolas didn't realise blitz would need reassurance about what they were and blitz didn't see stolas as someone who could get hurt.

unecessarily calling it toxic, even online, is more impactful than people think too. almost all spindlehorse ARE on all social medias; so MANY YouTube animators i know have found jobs there; they see your words, especially since a lot don't tag posts with "anti hb" correctly to keep them out of the main tag. there are Very few queer medias made BY queer people that haven't gone through heavy corporate revisions- helluva boss is practically a historical landmark in its success. it's very very very fucking easy to forget that not ten years ago some of the only queer videos on YouTube were butter lover (one kiss at the end post credits), dirty paws and welcome to hell (subtext).

the amount of "critical talk" helluva boss gets for what it is is very unprecedented. it's a beautiful show. can't wait for the next episode.

#helluva boss #stolas #blitz #stolitz #fizzarolli #helluva boss ozzie #okay im gonna make SO much content but i had to get this off my chest first #because so many people were like omg fizzozzie is so healthy stolitz take a lesson!!#and theres so much more nuance to it thats its so. frustrating to see a statement like that #meta #anyways #i love this fucjing show

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sehodreams · 2 months

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who in riize would you think that will be in a phone call with the reader in the middle of the night just to listen her voice talking about nothing? (maybe i have something about this and this question comes through my mind). And i really, really love "sex, money, feelings, die", it's sooooo good. Sorry english is not my first language.

I'm so happy you like sex money feelings die, I thought people would get tired of their silly conversations on the phone this last chapter but I'm glad it wasn't that bad hahahaha

Don't worry babe, english is not my first language either, we're here doing our best to learn!

This is more a how would calls with them be, I imagined them all and it was so cute 😭👌

Tw and tags: pure fluff, a little suggestive with Shotaro.

Eunseok definitely would be the kind of guy who sends you a text at 2 am to ask if you're awake, and the minute he sees you've read his message he'd call you, ''Why are you calling me at this hour?'' you'd ask, and he'd reply with a ''Why are you awake if you don't want me to call you?'', to make you laugh and then ask you about random stuff just to hear you until you or him fall asleep.

Anton is needier, he likes his daily night call, so every day at the same time you'd receive a text from him asking if he can call you, and when you say yes, he'd immediately do it, but I see him, more than talking, asking you questions to hear you ramble, and if you ask him the same question back, he'd softly laugh a bit embarrassed, ''sorry, got lost in your voice for a second, what were we talking about?''

Sungchan seems like the kind of guy who also loves his daily call, but he also seems like he would rather talk while you listen, and even if he says nothing and you either, he wants you to stay on the phone with him just to feel your company.

Sohee wouldn't call you, you'd call him, and he loves that. I see him more as the type who prefers texting, but he would never say no to you asking if you can call him, patiently listening to you and giving you answers when you need them. However, what I also see, is he falling asleep with your voice, and after a few times like that he'd be stuck to his phone waiting for your name to appear on his screen every night.

Seunghan would call you and plan little activities to not fall in silence, you can't tell me he doesn't make his girlfriend download silly games to play while you two talk for HOURS.

Wonbin doesn't seem like the kind who rambles much on the phone, but he still likes long phone calls, just listening to you breathe or even singing, leaving little comments every now and then and only hanging up when you beg him to let you go (at the end he'd take screenshots of how many hours you've been on the call to show it off to the other boys).

Shotaro likes to hear your voice but I think he prefers even more to see you, so he'd ask for short video calls if you're not busy, and a long one once a week, asking you to model for him if you bought something new or just to see you better (you can't tell me this man won't love those calls to have a... happy ending).

#riize x reader #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize scenarios

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buckets-and-trees · 10 months

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Hehe I’m here with a dare 😏

So I’m such a sucker for angst but with a happy ending - I’d love to hear how you would go about writing a forced proximity meets the one that got away fic, from what I’ve read of your writing I feel like you’d really do those tropes justice

Alright, Em... let me stretch my fingers and get ready for this one...

I THOUGHT about this.

Ari Levinson

Modern AU - college and then mid-to-late-30s Ari

We're going to call this... er... maybe an "imagine-novella"? It kind of ended up being a 2500-word plot exploration. No content warnings, only some language.

You meet Ari in college. He’s tall and toned and tanned, always in a baseball cap unless forced otherwise, and he’s already sporting a full beard and looking good with it. He’s a couple of years older because he worked out of high school before for a couple of years - long enough to put enough away to pay for tuition without being a burden on his parents. When you meet him, it's when there's the huge club rush out on the quad your junior year. It's in the middle of campus in the first weeks of the semester so everyone does wander through by the nature of when and where it is. You see the table for the radio station on campus. Truthfully you don't even notice him at first. You're standing twenty feet away looking at the sign and thinking about whether or not it's worth it, maybe shake things up, you love music - you're that friend always making the playlists, discovering new songs and bands, dying to go to big music festivals, etc, and your campus has a radio station...

Someone else was talking to him as he's running that table, and they leave and then he sees you standing there, and, "Hey! You!"

It jolts you out of your thoughts and you're caught off guard for just a half a second, and go, "Me?"

He grins, "Yeah, you."

Your feet move before you even really think about it because ... that's just what you do when people call you over. It’s an instant crush for you but you try and reign it in, because he's excited that you're actually interested in the station, and you genuinely are excited about it. He's a Journalism and Communications major and the station manager, and so he gives you the pitch to come to an info meeting they're going to have, he'd love to see you there.

And you do go. Because... it doesn't matter that he's cute. The more you keep thinking about it, you decide it would actually be fun. You get a show, you make a lot of new friends with the other station people - some of them are total nerds, but they're all fun or nice or a little bit irreverent, and so station meetings once a month are fun. You're a good DJ. You have fun with your shows. Ari takes note - he appreciates it. The station is his baby. He puts everything into it. He's not outgoing, even though he's charismatic, but he can't help but gravitate to the people who really fucking love it like him. You don't get to know him super well that first year, but when it's time for him to appoint new directors to run the station the next year, he pulls you aside and says he loves what you've done with your show and wants you to think about applying for a director position.

You do. It's going to be your last year of college, the DJ gig hasn't been work, it's just been fun, and ... you love being part of the team, love to work on exciting projects, dig your hands into the dirt and make something great, so yeah. You throw your hat in the ring, because why not? And it could be an extra thing to go on your grad school applications.

Ari not only picks you for the team, he actually ends up picking you to be the director of programming, his number two, the one who oversees the DJs and putting together the roster for shows each semester. And that's what launches everything to a new level.

You lock down DJs that you want to come back the next fall, you both go away for the summer, but now you're texting somewhat regularly about ideas for the next year, things you'll work on, and the real working friendship develops. When fall semester starts and it's full speed on the ground, you and the team of directors really work to make the station great, but it's A LOT of you and Ari.

And to say he becomes one of your best friends senior year? Maybe. You tread that line because there's still that part of your heart that crushes on him, but the part that loves doing everything station and music and working on this big beast together? That's big. You let that be the focus. Because it's fun. And he's fun. And he's brilliant (like you, which is why he likes you) and ambitious (like you) and he's got this great, rich laugh that you get to hear a lot. And a lot of your other friends are busy with their senior years, too, and so are you, and so you don't mind any of the time you spend working on the station with Ari and the other directors and the DJs who are just this pack of a couple dozen people who come and go. But a lot of you and Ari.

And he doesn't date anyone. Not the entire time you know him. You heard/thought maybe there were some hook ups he indulged in during your junior year, but not that year before you both graduate. He clearly doesn't have time for a girlfriend and doesn't love anything more than the station, but you do think - just a little bit - just in the back of your head sometimes - that maybe you don't hear about him with anyone this year because... he's not going to date you - that would be unprofessional for you two and the station - but maybe it's because you are close. And maybe as you get closer to the end of the year... maybe he's going to make a move. He's always said he's already a confirmed old bachelor, but the way he smiles at you, the way he values your opinion, how often he says how amazing you are and how he appreciates you... you're going to be the girl who finally gets him.

But time is running out. And even though you both pour your hearts into the station together, there are never any late nights (those are given to studying, passing classes, etc). The last month, he says stuff like he's never going to see any of you again. Jokingly. You all laugh as directors because how could he mean it? He's made you all a family.

He makes more comments like that in the last weeks and days, and when he says he's going to shut down all of his social media, because he only had it to run and promote the station, you call him on his bullshit. And he says no. He's serious. He's going to go into journalistic photography, and he's going to create the network he needs where he needs it, but he's not playing the PR games to do it - the dream is wild nature photography, work in remote locations, never talk to humans again if he can help it. And it's so stupid. You tell Ari he's being ridiculous. He can't want to live so far off the grid.

"I'm sorry," he says, kindly but matter-of-factly. "But when we graduate, I'm never talking to any of you ever again."

You scoff. But this conversation is now just you and him in the station on a Saturday afternoon. But then you look at him for a half a second and really see his face. And you think he means it. "Ari, I did not give my fucking heart and soul into this station for the last year as your friend for you to never talk to me again. You at least owe me a lunch five years from now."

He smiles. "Okay. Maybe in five years. You find me in five years and I promise I'll take you to lunch."

And you graduate a week later, and he says goodbye, and you're not sad about it. Maybe just a bit wistful for what might have been. But after that specific "five years" conversation, you realize it was only you who was maybe a bit foolishly hopeful. He'd really never led you on. You never told him you had a crush (you had tried to keep it professional, because you did genuinely love the friendship) and he'd never given you or anyone else any illusion that he was there for anything other than working on the station and that bonding and camaraderie. If he had led you on, if there had been late nights, maybe you would've been hurt. But aside from being secretly hopeful, there really wasn't much harm done by your pining. But maybe in five years, you'll look him up for that lunch he agreed to.

He does fall off the gridl You take a busy summer job and then a paid internship in the fall, and you try and track him a bit, but you do just… get busy and move forward. You think of Ari a lot, but less and less as the time goes on. You know the name of the newspaper he was going to start off with right after graduation, and although he got rid of social media, he did have a beautiful website he set up for his photography. And you check that once in a while, but less and less. You get a fulltime job after the internship, and your life becomes even more full with the things that aren’t Ari, and sometimes you think about him, but most times you don’t.

When that five years rolls around, you start to think of him more again.

But you let it come and go.

You didn’t necessarily feel like you were living your best life, and if you were going to get one lunch to win over the one who got away and make him realize you were the love of his life… maybe you’d feel a little better – a little more accomplished, go to the gym more, be really something – in ten years.

Fleeting thought in ten years. Though you do think of him when you realize it’s that ten year mark. And you just kind of smile because ten years ago you was so wildly for him, and five years ago you was still a touch foolishly hopeful, and wouldn’t it be something if you did look him up now? But you really don’t need to anymore.

Then a couple of years later, you move to a new place, and without ever even trying, who else should somehow be living two doors down from you but Ari fucking Levinson?

And he sees you first. He’s just gotten home, opened the door from the garage into the house to be reunited with his good girl – a beautiful golden retriever who’s waited for him all day, walked with her trotting along at his side out to his mailbox, and looks down the street to see who’s just sending off the movers out of curiosity for who’s moving into the neighborhood, and he does a fucking double take because it’s you.

His god damn jaw drops and he laughs and then calls out your name.

You turn, hardly believing it but knowing that voice anywhere, and you laugh and shake your head. “Ari Levinson?”

You push the messy hair from the long day’s work of moving out of your face and are glad you’re not besotted for this man anymore, even if he does look like even more of an Adonis now, because you do know you look a mess, but you don’t even care. Having moved out of state for this dream job, you couldn’t be any more happy just to have someone from your past right at your new home base.

“’Of all the gin joints in all the towns in the world!’”

He meets you halfway, and he pauses a beat away from you because he’s not a hugger, but somehow there’s just this draw to hug you, and so he does. Only surprising to you for a second, but you’re so tired and it’s been a good day but a long day, and you were excited for this move, but you can’t deny a familiar face just feels good, so you melt into him just for the comfort of it for a moment. It’s just nice.

And when you pull back, the obedient but attentive dog draws your attention, lighting your face up with a beautiful grin. “Can I pet your dog?!”

But the two of you are already drawn to each other and bonding before he gets the, “Sure, of course,” out of his mouth.

He doesn’t wear those old baseball caps every day anymore, so he pushes his hand through his hair, and that move has practically made women drop their panties for him over the years, but you don’t even notice, too busy showering affection on his sweet golden girl while the two of you exchange the kind of words two of the oldest friends do when they haven’t seen each other in ages. Why is his chest so tight and warm all at once. Why does he have the thought cross his mind that you showing up here feels like home? Why are you falling in love with his dog and not with him? Wait, why did he think that?

This feels like a slippery slope.

But maybe he doesn’t fucking care.

When he is back inside his house, starting to pull something from the fridge to heat up for dinner, he remembers that he promised you a dinner.

It’s later than you two made the deal for, but… he’ll start there.

Just old friends who are new neighbors.

That night when he’s plugging his phone in to charge before bed, he remembers that he never did get rid of your contact in his phone. You might have the same number.

What he doesn’t know is that when he left the harbor, sure, you waited with that boat hopefully for a bit, but then you finally took your ship and sailed – everywhere really – and you may be eager to fall happily in love with his dog and genuinely grateful to know you’ll have someone in your corner on this new adventure, but you want nothing more than that good friendship in your life. He was one of your greatest friends all those years ago. But you finally got over that pining crush, and here’s no way you’ll be foolish enough to fall for him again, nor do you want to. You couldn’t ask for more than to have your old friend as your new neighbor, with his gorgeous golden retriever.

Ari does text you that night… just a welcome to the neighborhood again, and that he thinks he owes you a dinner, if he remembers correctly (he does, he’s just being casually clever), so he’s gotta take you out tomorrow night.

And it is still the same number, but you fell into the blissful rest of your bed, exhausted after move in day, so you don’t even see it that night. It will wait until you get to it in the morning.

Just like Ari will have to wait for what he wants. And work to try to even bring you around again.

Will he have waited too long and you’ll be the one who got away?

#ari levinson x reader #ari levinson imagine #aspen's extended anniversary sleepover #em/writing for marvel #sleepover dare

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feelbokkie · 2 months

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Sorry, I Love You | Chapter 5

pairing: Jeongin x fem reader

genre/warnings: smau, crack, angst, fluff, non!idol au, friends to lovers, unrequited love, will they, won’t they dynamic, abusive relationship, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, emotional/psychological abuse

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, domestic violence (nobody's putting hands on anyone though), toxic relationship, suggestive if you squint, mention of blood

summary: Jeongin is in love with his best friend and he has been ever since he met her back in high school. He’s not sure how Y/n feels about him and in order to persevere their friendship, it’s a secret he keeps to himself. But when Y/n starts showing interest in one of their new neighbors, Jeongin starts to worry about the future of their relationship.

taglist: CLOSED

word count: 2,948

screenshot count: 19 (plus one 1 video at the end)

previous | masterlist | next

Knock, knock, knock

You stand outside Soobin's apartment, waiting for someone to open the door. You have a key. He gave it to you ages ago when he and the other boys moved. He never asked for it back, even when you two were on breaks. Even then, you've only ever used it when one of them accidentally locked themselves out. You didn't feel comfortable enough letting yourself in even though your boyfriend lived there. Maybe part of you was being considerate of Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun, and Kai's privacy. But another part of you was scared of what you might find one day.

"Do you know how late it is--" The door jerks open to reveal an annoyed Yeonjun. "...Oh...Y/n..."

His face softens when his eyes meet yours. You can only imagine what's going through his head, you know what's going through yours. The picture. What everyone is thinking of you. You hardly had any peace on the bus ride over, you felt like everyone's eyes were on you. Like they saw the picture too.

Yeonjun slightly leans against the doorframe. His hand is firm on the door, ready to slam it shut again. His hair a tousled mess pulled in different directions. The oversized grey zip-up hoodie swallows his slender frame. Part of the jacket slips off his shoulder, revealing the strap of the white tank top he's wearing underneath. His lower lip is red and raw. He's probably been nervously chewing on it for hours. A habit you know he's been trying to break.

"Hey, Junnie." You finally let out. "Is Soobin home?"

Yeonjun pulls the door closer to his body, closing any gap that you might try to squeeze your way through. "Yeah, but you shouldn't be here right now."

"You saw the picture," Your voice cracks. It's less of a question and more of a confirmation. You already know he did. His body language is enough of a giveaway. His face is as red as a stoplight, glowing in the soft porch light. His eyes dart around in all sorts of directions, begging to look at anything other than you.

"I'm sorry..." The red in his face slowly drifts down to his neck.

"I need to talk to him." You shift your weight onto your other leg.

"That's really not a good idea. We're handling it though. Gyu is looking for Soobin's room key so--"

"You can't even look at me right now, Yeonjun. I need to talk to him myself. He blocked me on everything so I have to do it in person."

Yeonjun's eyes finally snap to your face, almost like a spell. "I understand that, and I am sorry but I really don't think you should be here--"

"Yeonjun! Please," You ball your hands into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms as you try to keep yourself from crying. You can feel the all-too-familiar sting stab the back of your eyes.

"...He's been drinking, Y/n." He says softly, almost as if he's talking to a child. Your breath hitches in your throat for a moment. You're not sure if it's the scream you've been holding in since you saw the picture trying to make its way out or a sudden panicked and frustrated scream. Either way, you don't like it.

"I don't care. That picture is still up and more people are seeing it and my life is being ruined very quickly. If you don't let me in to talk to him, I'm going to scream and--"

"Fine," Yeonjun pauses for a moment before moving out of the frame and holding it wide open for you. "You can come in, just...just don't lock the door. Hell, leave it open, we won't listen."

You slightly nod your head at Yeonjun, a silent 'thank you' as you walk into the apartment. The atmosphere is immediately off. You don't hear the distant screams of Beomgyu from his room that you've become accustomed to. Or the noise from Kai making a snack in the kitchen. Yeonjun isn't on the couch playing a game with Beomgyu pestering him nearby. The TV is on and paused on a show that Taehyun and Yeonjun started the last time you were over.

You walk towards the bedrooms, hearing the hushed bickering between Kai and Beomgyu and the faint jingling of keys. As you walk closer, you find Beomgyu kneeling in front of the doorknob, a key ring in his hand. Kai is hunched over Beomgyu's shoulder telling him to try different keys while Taehyun is leaning against his bedroom door, watching his roommates argue with a frown etched onto his face.

"See, I told you to try that one first," Kai lets out a sigh of relief.

"I know, I know, now shut up before I redirect my anger," Beomgyu stands up and stretches, his shirt lifting a little.

Taehyun kicks himself off the wall and walks to the door. He pauses when catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye. "Y/n? You really shouldn't..."

You don't notice, but Yeonjun shakes his head, telling him to drop it. All three of the boys quietly step back, their worried eyes fall on your bad. Or maybe they're judging you. They saw the picture too. Their image of you is forever tainted.

You've never liked attention. It's why you prefer being behind the camera instead of in front of it. Being with Soobin, you've slowly gotten used to the attention. Of the peering eyes that the drama you two lived in attracted. How, when you two are fighting, everyone speaks carefully around you and their eyes watch you intently. Or how, when you two are together, they can't help their judgmental glares. But this, this is going to be different. You know that some, if not all of your friends aren't even going to be able to look at you. You're not entirely sure if that's going to be any better.

You push Soobin's bedroom door open and slowly walk in. The air in his room cool on your skin. Soobin rests against the headboard of his bed. The speaker you got him for his birthday 3 years ago loudly plays a song from a local band the two of you saw a couple of years ago. He ended up liking their music more than you did. His eyes are closed as it slowly bobs along to the music, the neck of a bottle of beer sits loosely in his hand. His eyes shoot open as you close the door. "Y/n? Here for another photoshoot?"

"I need you to delete the picture." You say firmly.

"Hm?" Soobin sits up, adjusting the light blue beanie on his head with his free hand. "Why?"

"What do you mean why? You know exactly why." Unsure what to do with your hands, you cross your arms.

"Nothing's showing. Your face is barely in it. It could be anyone." He waves off before taking another sip of his drink, spilling a little on his oversized white t-shirt.

"That's why you tagged me right?" You take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling to calm yourself, only to be met with your reflection.

Soobin throws his head back, letting out a deep hearty laugh before focusing his attention back on you. "You get on my ass because I don't post pictures of you and now you're getting on my ass because I did. I can't win!"

"I meant like a cute picture of me or hell, even an ugly candid. Not me--" You quickly press your lips together, trying to remain calm. You know that arguing with Soobin when he's drunk is pointless. You just want him to take the photo down. "Look, just take the fucking picture down."

“Why?" Soobin gets up from his bed and slowly walks towards you. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and searches for something. "Scared your other boyfriend might see it? Oh, looks like he already saw it. One of your other friends took a screenshot, wanna see who? Guess I have to look out for him too.”

You push his hand away as he tries to show you the engagement on his story. “I don't have another boyfriend and you know that."

"Do I?" He cocks his head to the side, he can hardly hide the smirk creeping up on his face.

You used to love the mischievous smirk that would sneak onto his face. It always preceded a bad idea which was followed by a wink. It's how you two ended up together. You didn't see past his angel-like looks when he asked 'Do you wanna get out of here?' You spent your second Friday in South Korea exploring the nightlife of Seoul. It's how you ended up with a tattoo in a place where only Soobin knows. And how you spent one of your breaks in the countryside with Soobin instead of going home. It's how you ended up letting Soobin take that picture in the first place.

"What do you want?" Your voice strains as you try to fight back the sob threatening to come out. "Do you want me to beg you to take it down?”

Soobin gently places his hand on your face and caresses your cheek with his thumb. The pads of his fingers are rough on your skin. "You always do look the prettiest on your knees."

"Are you doing this to get back at me or something?" Your voice finally cracks, your eyes sting from the all-too-familiar pricks.

Don't cry.

"What am I doing?" Soobin almost looks concerned as he wipes a traitorous tear from your cheek.

Having enough, you push Soobin's hand away from you. "You posted that picture of me knowing that everyone would see it. You constantly accuse me of cheating when I'm the only one who has been faithful the entire time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nico," You cross your arms across your chest.

"Who the fuck is Nico?"

"Great, you don't even know the name of the person you're cheating on me with." You mutter under your breath. "The girl you've been sleeping with since the summer."

"Oh, that? I never slept with her while we were together."

"But you did sleep with her,"

"When we were on a break or broken up or whatever the fuck, yeah. It’s not cheating."

“That’s not the issue. I asked you if you were with anyone else while we were apart and you said 'no.'”

"I say a lot of things."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You're not sure why you asked. Your mind is already second-guessing everything he's ever said to you. Every 'I love you.' Every apology. Every promise. Every secret. Hell, he even told you that the pictures he took would be for his eyes only. You're not sure which ones are true and which ones are lies. If there are even any truths.

"Hm, I wonder?" Soobin walks back to his bed and finally lowers the music.

"That's great, Soobin," You laugh because that's all you can do. If you don't laugh, you'll cry and the last thing you want is for Soobin to see you cry. "You know what, keep the picture up, I'm sure it's already made its way around the university. Post the rest of them. Fuck whoever you want, I don't care. I'm done and I'm tired."

Soobin lets out a loud laugh that sends a chill down your spine. You want to turn and leave, but something is stopping you.

"Okay, Y/n. Go ahead and break up with me, again. And then go talk shit about me to your friend before going and sleeping with one of your many guy friends--"

"I've never once given you a reason to think that I cheated on you when you've given me thousands. And I can promise you, I'm the only one defending you--"

"Don't lie to me! Did you defend me when you went out with Yeji and let her text me like that? What about when you showed up late to--"

"I really am done with you, I can't deal with you when you're like this." You turn to finally leave the room, your hand on the cool brass door knob.

Crash!

Your body freezes and turns cold as your eyes slowly inch to the wet spot on the wall. Your eyes trail down to the floor where there is now a puddle of beer and shattered glass. You've never been more grateful that Soobin is bad at sports. Two inches to the left and that bottle would have hit your head.

"Don't turn your back to me when I'm talking to you!"

Unsure of what else to do, you slink down to the ground and begin to pick up the pieces of glass from the floor. You bite down your quivering bottom lip as you swallow back sobs. You can't hear anything else beyond your sniffling, your eyes trained on the clear glass. You don't flinch as you accidentally cut your hand on one of the sharper shards. The whiplash of the past couple of hours clouding your mind. You're exhausted and slightly scared of leaving. If Soobin was willing to throw something at you, who knows what else he might do? You should have listened to Yeonjun and gone home, it would have been easier to deal with a sober Soobin than a drunk one.

"Hey, hey Y/n, put that down." Yeonjun kneels beside you and gently takes your hand.

"If I don't then..." Your voice trails off, you're not sure what argument you had.

"It's okay. The guys got it. C'mon, let's take care of your hand...and your cheek." Yeonjun carefully takes the glass out of your hand and helps you up as you touch the wet spot on your cheek that you thought was beer only to be met with blood. You follow behind as he leads you out of the room. You catch a quick glimpse of Beomgyu taking Soobin's phone out of his hands.

***

After patching your hand up and putting a bandaid on your cheek, Yeonjun drove you home. The drive was quiet as you looked out the window the whole time. You could tell that Yeonjun had something he wanted to say the whole time, but he kept his mouth shut. You only mumbled out a thank you and a small smile before you walked into your apartment.

Click

You press your back against the front door and slide to the ground, your body too tired to move anymore. You rest your head on your knees as you pull your phone out of your pocket. Your lock screen is littered with texts and missed calls from friends and classmates. You roll your swollen eyes as you unlock your phone and go to your contacts.

You steady your breathing as your thumb hovers over Jeongin's number, the top number in your favorites. It's nearly one in the morning. On a normal night, Jeongin would be asleep. He's one of the few people in your group who goes to bed at a decent time. You don't want to wake him up, but you need to hear his voice right now.

Bring, bring, bring

You hold the phone to your ear as you tuck your head back in between your knees. The monotone ringing is almost calming as you wait for him to pick up. You wish he was here with you now. Or that Yeonjun dropped you off at his house. But the last thing you want is it getting back to Soobin and giving him another reason to accuse you of something that you would never do. You don't see Jeongin as more than a friend. He's the one person you managed to get close to your entire time in the country. Sure, you love your other friends but there's a bond that you share with Jeongin that you don't seem to have with everyone else.

"Y/n?" Jeongin's tired voice asks on the other end. It's warm and soothing and somehow everything you need right now.

You stay silent, trying to keep calm. You know that the second he hears your crying, he's going to make his way over to you and the last thing you want is to have him see you with raccoon eyes and a bandaid on your face and jump to conclusions. You're not even sure you can look him in the eyes after that picture got out.

"Y/n?" You hear him moving around in the back, his voice slightly panicked. "Y/n, what's wrong?"

You want to just tell him that everything is wrong. That you and Soobin got into another fight and that you had to break up with him for good this time. That you know Soobin has more pictures on his phone and you're scared that he might end up posting them. That your hand and cheek hurt and are throbbing underneath the ointment and bandaids. How loud the heavy pounding in your head is right now and how heavy your heart feels in your chest. How you know that you're going to hear a chorus of 'I told you so's and looks of pity from all of your other friends. How you want nothing more than to be home, home with your parents and older brother. How you don't want to be alone right now.

You wipe the tears pouring down your face like a leaky faucet with your free hand. Your throat quickly becomes sore and dry as a sob settles in your chest just from the concern in Jeongin's voice. "My heart hurts,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @marked-unknown @veedoesntknaur @nuronhe @lixie-phobia @yongbbokkie @f9clementine @kibs-and-bits @jihanlovic @puppysmileseungmin @jaydebow @kangaracharacha @lilcutieana @lanatheawesome @everglowdaisies @babrieeee @sunshinessky @szkstay @aslou @weird-bookworm @autumn-lv @ismelllikechlorine247 @stay278 @wolfennracha @tesywesy @mmmsvnts

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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 1 year

Text

What is König Like in a Relationship (according to me)

Warnings: mentions of bullying, anxiety, NSFW mentions but nothing very explicit

A/N: Honestly, I needed to read some backstory for König and once again this is just my idea of him, if you've imagined him differently, that's absolutely valid!

* * *

Although König is goofy and relaxed that is just on the surface. In truth, he is actually very insecure and socially awkward which is why he's learned to compensate this with humour

He was bullied for the majority of his childhood and particularly in his teens for his height and size (the man is 6'10 (roughly 210cm)); when he signed up for military, they only confirmed his insecurities by saying he is too large and awkward to be a sniper

König proved them wrong by becoming one of the best snipers in the world which definitely boosted his confidence although his childhood trauma remained

Because König is well aware of how social anxiety feels, he would never put you in an uncomfortable position, especially in front of other people

He loves to make you laugh and tease you playfully though

König also loves to talk to you all the time, he can be very loud but he is also very good-natured

The man is also very handy and if he can find any way to use his height, size and strength to an advantage, he will do it because he is so done with being insecure about it

That is until it comes to being intimate with you; he is absolutely petrified of having sex for the first time with you - not because he does not want it, he wants you so bad, but because he is afraid he will hurt you

You reassure him multiple times and take it slow but it takes quite a few tries to get him to relax enough to try anything past a make-out session

König would also be very insecure about going down on you for fear of not making you feel good; in truth, he just needs some encouragement because as it turns out, he's a natural

In an argument or if he just feels like he hurt you or you're angry, König shuts off very quickly because he feels so guilty (although it may not even be his fault); it takes a long, reassuring discussion from your part that you just want him to communicate to you about his feelings and not to apologize for anything

And it needs to be said that although he is usually loud and goofy, he never yells at you during arguments. He turns very quiet and insecure, more likely backing away from the argument than jump in guns blasting

You can tell if he is sad or hurt or angry by the tone of his voice. It turns calm and silky, his German accent less prominent

His love languages are acts of service, quality time and physical touch when he gets comfortable enough; and in turn, he loves to receive words of affirmation, also quality time and especially physical touch from you

Few were the opportunities in his life when someone was gentle and genuinely kind to him; and those things coming from you make him feel so loved

Another thing, König would rarely admit in a straightforward manner but he is very, very protective of you - he always insists you walk on the inner side of the pavement, he either holds your hand or keeps his on your back when you're walking through a crowd (also to reassure his own anxiety) and he always insists you call him when you get somewhere so that he knows you've arrived safely

König's favourite acts of physical touch are definitely cuddling; you sitting on his lap or lying on top of him, him lying between your legs as he rests his head on your tummy, he loves to hold your hands all the time because they feel so small, soft and delicate against his

Finally, he is definitely husband material; he is so supportive and caring, he would never let anything hurt you and he would do anything to see you smile and be happy

Bonus

König always thought he was a dog person until he came across a litter of abandoned kittens on one of his missions and absolutely fell in love. He has been bugging you to adopt a kitten ever since

Also, I think König has grey-green eyes, round, droopy and sad and his hair is short, military cut and dark brown like forest soil. His nose is big and crooked-like/Roman and he only rarely shaves clean; he prefers a slight stubble on his cheeks

In the beginning of the relationship, if you kiss him, even just his cheek, he will blush a deep shade of red and his heart would race out of his chest, but probably for the first time in his life, in a good way <3

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #cod mw2 fanfic #modern warefare 2 x reader #modern warfare 2 #könig x reader #konig mw2 #konig fanfiction #konig headcanons #cod konig #konig imagine

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apomaro-mellow · 7 months

Text

Matchmaking Harringtons 3

Steve was having a great time with Eddie. It was mostly because he was just that amazing. He was funny, hot, cute, and totally into him. A winning combo in Steve's opinion. But it was all due in no small part to the fact that his parents were so supportive. Steve didn't talk about the girls he dated that much (because why would he?) but his folks seemed actively interested in his going with Eddie.

Maybe it was the whole 'serious relationship' thing they were trying to commit him to. Maybe they were overcompensating for not being around much and wanting to also prove they were okay with his preferences. Either way, they always wanted to know how things were going with Eddie.

They'd been going out for a couple of dates at this point and honestly each one was better than the last. They were all typically low-key, with moments that they were able to get alone for a bit of privacy.

"Let's just say the back of his van is very spacey", Steve said into the phone as he paced about his room.

"So...you're still a total slut then?", Robin said from the other end of the line.

"Guys can't be slutty. And it's not being a slut if it's with the same guy."

"So you've?"

Diane was in the middle of bringing up a basket of laundry when she heard her son's conversation in his room. She swore she'd never be the kind of mother that constantly eavesdropped but well, the door was open just a smidge...

"Not, not the full thing, all the way yet. I think he's nervous. Or he can tell I'm nervous? I don't know. I told him I'd never been with a guy before and I thought that might make him, you know, take initiative?"

"Or maybe he's taking things slow because he doesn't wanna scare you off?", Robin suggested.

"That...could be it. But that's kinda why I called. I thought he was moving kinda slow, but guess where he's taking me tomorrow?"

"Steve, is Munson taking you to a hotel?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "No. He's taking me to Le Petit Nuange. That French place a town over?"

Robin gasped. "Sacre bleu! Va-t-il faire une proposition?"

"Robs, please. My extent of French is 'filet mignon'."

"Do you think he's serious? Like trying to meet your parents serious?"

"I don't know? Maybe? It's just weird. Le Petit is just...so not Eddie."

Diane was inclined to agree. A fancy place like that seemed out of character for someone as boisterous and non-conforming as Eddie. He has once brought a bouquet of lilies, despite their dire meaning. 'Screw flower language, these are some damn fine flowers', he had said.

And even if he thought of taking Steve somewhere special, Enzo's was the nicest place in town. Where would he get the idea to go to the next town?

Jonas.

Diane had thought he was being suspicious when he hid Steve's shoes before a date and met Eddie outside to talk. Diane had thought he'd been giving the boy some kind of shovel talk. He must've been giving Eddie advice on where to take Steve instead.

And she could just imagine what he was trying to do - clean Eddie up. Well, if he wanted to go behind her back, then two could play at that game.

-------------------------

The doorbell rung and Steve answered it. Eddie was there, in a button up shirt with long sleeves that hide his tattoos. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. And he had a bouquet of nice, traditional, red roses.

"They're beautiful", Steve beamed. He took a moment to put the roses in a vase, missing the thumbs up his dad gave Eddie. Diane however, did not miss it.

"Your chariot awaits", Eddie said, giving a sweeping bow and then locking his arm with Steve's. "Have a good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington!", he called back.

As the van roared down the street, Diane enacted her own plan. She had her husband would also be having a date night.

At Le Petit Nuange, Eddie and Steve were being seated and Eddie had never felt more out of place. It was like everyone could tell he didn't belong here. But when he saw Steve smiling from across him, he knew there was no place he'd rather be.

"What made you want to bring me here?", Steve asked.

Jonas had practically cornered Eddie when he had come to pick up Steve, saying he just wanted to talk a little. Eddie was prepared for the whole 'I have a shotgun/shovel and I'm not afraid to use it.'

"Let's talk", he had opened with. "Steve and you have been having fun, right?"

"Uh, yes? I guess?", Eddie said, unsure now.

"Fun's all well and good Eddie. But now's the time to show Steve you're serious. And you are serious? Aren't you, son?"

"Y-yes. Yes, I am, serious like a heart attack."

"Then you've gotta take him some place special. A place like, uh, say Le Petit Nuange", Jonas rubbed at his chin.

Eddie's brows rose up under his fringe. "Le Petit Nuange? That place is-"

"Is upscale. Which is what Steve deserves, isn't it?"

Eddie swallowed. "Yeah, yeah it is."

He looked at Steve's hand, sitting on the table, just asking to be held. Steve deserved all this and more. And Eddie wanted to be the one to give it to him. It was why he took extra shifts and more of his side business to have the dough to take Steve here.

"I just looked up places in the yellow pages and thought you might like it."

"You know, my parents actually come here a lot", Steve pointed out.

"You don't say", Eddie tried to hide his expression by covering his face with the menu. When he got a look at the prices, it did a good job hiding the way his eyes bugged out. Looks like his purse strings would be a little tight after this. But he had prepared for that. Steve was worth it.

He was worth the stiff shirt, the swanky eatery, and even spending more time selling music that was beneath him to the general populace.

"So tell me more about this gig you've got coming up", Steve said.

Eddie's face broke out into a wild smile and he nearly slammed the menu down. "It's gonna be a ride, Stevie." He wasn't shouting, but his volume was a little louder than polite, and he felt eyes on him. He cleared his throat and quieted himself. "I mean I'm excited to rub elbows with other bands. The experience is sure to be enlightening."

Steve gave him an odd look. "Yeah, I hope my parents let me go. Indy isn't far, but I feel like they've been keeping a closer eye on me lately."

The thought of Steve being in a crowd while he played made Eddie wanted to jump for joy. He wanted to tell him come, even if his parents said no. Sneak out for the weekend, what could they do? He was a man now. But he couldn't do that. Not just because he was trying to clean up and having his new boyfriend at a metal venue might ruin that image. It was also because Steve's had nice parents.

There weren't many that could both accept and encourage their queer child.

"You know Steve, your parents-hcck!" Eddie choked on his words as he saw the Harringtons walk right in and get led to a table.

"What about my parents?", Steve asked.

"They're uh, they're um great!", Eddie squeaked, then cleared his throat to get it back to its normal register. "I mean they're great. I can tell they love you very much."

Steve smiled, none the wiser to his folks being seated not too far away. Eddie tried not to look at them, tried to ignore them. But this couldn't be a coincidence.

Jonas was looking around while trying not to look around. "When you said you wanted to go out tonight....I didn't think you meant this place."

"Why not?", Diane questioned. "We're regular patrons. And it's been a while since we went out." They'd been getting plenty of alone time what with Steve dating now, but they usually spent their evenings at home.

Jonas pulled out her chair for her and when he sat down, he used the menu to continue looking around. Diane watched him like a hawk.

Steve didn't know what was going on with Eddie. He looked nice dressed this way, sure. But it didn't feel like him. He felt...smaller somehow. Like he was trying to shrink himself down. Even as they talked, his smiles were restrained, he didn't move his hands as much, and even his voice seemed like it was being held back.

Steve watched as he cut his food, using minimal motions like he was working with glass.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, course, I'm fine. I uh, I just need to hit the can-uh use the facilities. Please excuse me."

Eddie got up in a haste. He thought he'd be ready for tonight. It was just playing pretend. Potentially for the rest of his life. Maybe having an audience of the parents was what was tripping him up. He got close to the bathroom when a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned to see none of than Mrs. Harrington.

"Don't worry, I know this wasn't your idea", she started right off. "My husband put it in your head. I'll admit, I like the idea of Steve being treated like a prince, but if you clean up too much he'll get confused."

"Right, yeah, gotta strike a balance. Mhm."

"Glad we could talk", she patted his arm. "Go get him, tiger."

Eddie returned to Steve and saw Diane come back to her table not long after. He could see them exchange words, although he couldn't hear what. Then Jonas got up from his seat. He gave Eddie a strange look while making his way to the bathroom. Eddie sighed and excused himself again.

"Now I don't know what my wife might've said to you, but you've got to stay on this path. I can see a real future with you and Steve if you do."

"A real future?"

"I could only give my son to someone who could take care of him. You understand what I mean, don't you?"

Eddie nodded. The kind of man who could take Steve to these places and not have his soul leave his body when he looked at the menu. When Eddie sat back down, he looked at Steve, sitting across from him. It was the kind of view he could get used to.

Somehow, the meddling didn't end there. The Harringtons took turns, getting up to meet with Eddie and each time he had to come up with an excuse.

"I'm gonna check their wine selection."

"I want to make sure the kitchen knows my allergies."

"I'm gonna see if the violinist takes requests."

Finally, Steve stood up with him and grabbed Eddie by the elbow. "Come with me."

Steve took him to the bathroom and locked the door behind them.

"Steve", Eddie gasped, scandalized when his neck started to get kissed.

"You've been antsy all night." Steve's hands went to his hips and began to untuck his shirt.

Instantly, Eddie felt like being released from shackles. Steve's hand roaming under his shirt left him so distracted, he almost didn't hear what he said next.

"Hm?"

"I said, do you wanna get out of here?"

"The bill-", Eddie was cut off when Steve reached behind him and took down his hair, running his fingers through it to free the tresses.

"A little dine and ditch never hurt anyone."

Eddie looked to the window in the bathroom. Just barely big enough to make a getaway. He was halfway out when they heard someone knocking on the door. Eddie was helping Steve out as the handle was shaking. Steve was giggling and it was like a sweet bell to his ears.

They were making their way around the back of the restaurant and towards the van as the manager finally came around with a key.

Diane and Jonas could make out the commotion going on near the bathroom and saw the empty table where two lovebirds should be.

"You knew I made Eddie take Steve here", Jonas confirmed.

"Yes."

"And every time you got up-"

"Was to speak with Eddie. And now they've-"

"-Snuck out the bathroom."

Together they sighed, remembering when they snuck out of stuffy formals to be alone together. And because they wondered if they were doing right by their son.

"We're going to have a long talk when we get home, huh?", Jonas asked his wife.

"Oh yeah."

"Any hope for me?"

"Ask me after dessert."

Part 5

Tag Team

@tartarusknight @swimmingbirdrunningrock @estrellami-1 @potato-of-the-lord @dragonmama76 @m-owo-n @sticknpokelightningbolt @somegirlsomewhere @tinyplanet95 @samsoble @runniem @hallucinatedjosten @nburkhardt @littlewildflowerkitten @noctxrn-e @subversivecynic @larawrmonster @suikatto @platinum-sunset @imacowboy3 @tiny-enthusiast @netflixisacopingstrategymom @honorarybrit81 @manda-panda-monium @krazyperson @ninjapirateunicorns

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #poor eddie #dont worry he and steve will find their way #and di and jo will get the picture too

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mezz-merizing · 10 months

Text

language, hypnotism, and you!

here in the Hypnokink Zone we tend to center our focus on inductions. and for good reason!! they're the purest form of hypnosis, the intentional induction of someone, an endeavour designed exclusively to take someone into trance. but what if we didn't want to do an induction, or even take someone into trance, but still have a hypnotic effect on them? as it turns out, this is extremely doable, and extremely cool!

if you've been here for a while now you might have seen this post from me, my first proper ramble about all this stuff, and you might remember that bit at the end, when i talk about just how hot i find the words "hypnotized" and "brainwashed" themselves, and how i sometimes just find myself repeating them over and over when i'm really feelin' it. i think that's a good representation of how just single words can fuck with our minds, and it's not just those two <3

so like, let's think for a second about what language actually is; we tend to take for granted the fact that we make air do silly tricks with our mouths and our throats in order to put ideas and concepts into other people's heads. really, a word isn't just a word- it's not just the funny shape that air takes on when you make just the right tongue movements, it's the idea that word actually is. and ideas are extremely powerful!! when you think of the word "brainwashed" you don't just think of the individual letters, you think of helpless subjects, spinning spirals, and complete, devoted obedience. and that has more effects on you than you might realise :3

sometimes people in the hypno sphere call this "neuro-linguistic programming" or "NLP" but that's kind of a misnomer, (actual NLP is a silly and weird pseudoscience largely invented by "pickup artists" to sell courses, so, y'know, i try and avoid the association) i prefer to just use "hypnotic language" because it's just as descriptive! the basis of hypnotic language is this: when you say words, you incept ideas into someone's head. if you have the skill, time, and familiarity with the person you're talking to, you can use this to control their thoughts nearly as effectively as if they were in trance!

a lot of this relies on what words mean the most to the individual you're talking to. let's take me as an example!! the word docile makes me fucking weak. it conjures up images of blank-face, calm-smile obedience, of gently nodding and going about the commands i'm given, of empty-headed servitude. the images it conjures in my head are vivid and hot as hell, and it's just a single word. use it a little bti around me, and you'll ensure i have all those thoughts swirling around in my head! thoughts of servitude. thoughts of enslavement. and so it comes naturally that i'd be easier to control <3

tone matters too! if you speak to someone authoritatively, they'll come to see you as an authority. even in tiny matters, insignificant ones, even in little ways- saying "hey, grab me a glass of water" is more authoritative than "hey, can you get me some water?" obviously, this is a double-edged sword! too much authority and you might give your intentions away, or just come off as kinda bossy, and that's more likely to make people actively resist you than let you in. once again, it's all about knowing your target! you gotta know what your subject's tolerances are for this kinda thing

take all this together, and you can have almost as much of a grip on someone's mind as you would if they were completely hypnotized :3 you break them down overtime, get them hanging on certain words, widen their tolerance for authority... and eventually, with a lot of effort and patience, they're yours. obedient to you- brainwashed, in all but process

can you imagine it? like, from the subject's perspective- being completely under someone's hypnotic control without ever having been hypnotized. maybe looking back at a long time ago and thinking "i sure acted different then", but not worrying about it at all. you're a thrall, and as far as you're concerned, that's just who you are!! that's just kind of how the world works

i dunno about you but i can't imagine a fate i'm more desperate for <3

#hypnosis #brainwashing #hypnotism #mind control #mind conditioning #hypnok1nk #hypnoslut #covert hypnosis

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the-kr8tor · 9 months

Note

HII, well, this is my first time writing reques, so I'm sorry if something is not clear, and English is not my first language😭😭

Can you write Hobie x reader hurt/comfort, where Hobie had to leave them for a some long time without warning, because of his some kind of spider-thing or for the safety of the reader, they thought that they would not see him again and were super worried, but he’s returned!Something like thatt.

SORRY AGAIN FOR THE WAY I WRITING, also love your works so muchh, thank you!!😋

Hi hun! Thank you for requesting! Don't worry your english is fine, english isn't my first language either. I'm glad you like my works! Hope you like it ❤️

Hobie Brown x gn!reader

TW injury, violence mention, hurt/comfort.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

It's been a month, a long agonizing, torturous month without Hobie, sure you're used to going through days without seeing him, that's normal for you both, with him busy with being Spider-Punk and you with work. But this is different, you haven't heard from him, not a single call or even a simple text of 'hey, I'm still alive'

The only indication that he hasn't kicked the bucket yet is his occasional sightings in the news. And even that is rare, the last time he was on the news was a week ago.

You've never been more afraid for him.

Your anxiety is at an all time high, your legs tensing up under the heavy blanket you covered yourself with. You can't sleep, eyes wide open, staring at nothing, but your mind races through different scenarios of Hobie getting hurt, or worse.

You shake your head, inhaling and exhaling, trying to calm yourself down. It was futile, again you watch the news, waiting to see his familiar suit, and again you're disappointed at another day of not seeing a proof of life.

You still don't know if not seeing him on the nightly news is a good or bad thing. On the other hand you get to see him, but was it worth watching him get beaten up? But if you don't see him, your own mind betrays you, imagining his current state, is he okay? Is he even eating or taking a break? You curse at whoever keeps hunting him down.

You miss your Hobie, a single tear slides down on your cheek. What if he doesn't come back? What if this is his way of breaking it off with you?

The only indication of your relationship is the marks he left in your flat. His toothbrush next to yours, his clothes in your drawer that you've cleared out just for him, a mug still sitting on your counter, right where he left it.

You swallow down a sob, pulling up the covers to your chin, as if it brings you comfort.

You hear a creaking sound behind you.

Opening your eyes, you see a shadow creeping up your bed. You flip away the heavy covers off you, this could only be one person.

Your intuition is right, you see Hobie hanging upside down on your fire exit, as he tries to open your window quietly. The spikes on his mask shine in the moonlight, immediately calming you down.

You breathe a huge sigh of relief.

You call out his name softly, as he gracefully lets himself inside your room. You don't notice the slight limp in his step, too engrossed in finally seeing him alive and well.

"Did I wake you up?" He asks softly.

"No, I wasn't sleeping" these past few weeks, you wanted to add, but you bite your tongue, not wanting to fight, you just want him back in your arms again.

You take a step towards him, but he backs away further. Yet you push forward, determined to hug him, to check on him.

Your fingers skim over the hem of his leather vest, careful of any injuries he might have. Hobie grabs your hand gingerly, caressing the soft skin.

"I'm alright, I'm alright, lovey" the whites of his mask evades your eyes.

"Let me look at you, please" you raise your free hand over the edge of his mask, slowing your movements, so he has the chance to stop you.

He doesn't, instead, Hobie lets go of your intertwined hands, so you could use both in taking off his mask.

"I was worried about you y'know" you try to make light of the situation, lifting his mask up to his nose, sneaking a quick look to check for bruises "I've basically been glued on the telly, waiting for –" you stop yourself once you finally lift off the mask, a small gasp leaving your lips.

Hobie's cheeks were sunken in, his eyes bloodshot, the color now dull. The most concerning though is the deep red gash that runs from the corner of his brow up to the middle of his forehead.

Your heart shatters at the sight.

"Hobie–" your eyes get glossy.

"Fuck, don't cry for me" he grabs you by the shoulder, dragging you towards him for an embrace, Hobie ignores the slight sting when your head hits his injured shoulder "I'm alright, yeah?" He rubs your trembling back "I'm so fucking sorry, I should've told you– fuck I'm sorry"

Hobie hugs you tightly, he thinks about all the close calls he had, his heart clenches at the thought of leaving you without a word. Forever wondering what happened to him.

He kisses the top of your head.

"I thought I'll never see you again" you say in between sobs, "never do that again" lifting your head from his aching shoulder, you grasp the back of his neck, affectionately massaging the tensed muscles underneath.

He nods, Wiping the fallen tears off your wet cheeks "I'm home, love"

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Thanks for reading! Consider reblogging if you enjoyed ❤️❤️❤️

#hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #spider punk #hobie brown #the kr8tor's creations #x reader #atsv fanfiction #spider man across the spider verse #hobie brown x gn!reader #spider punk x gn! reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x you #atsv x reader #astv fanfic #fanfic #tw injury

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just-a-little-cellist · 11 months

Note

Hello there my dear~! If you may be so kind, and you happen to get the inspiration, i would absolutely adore to request a small blurb from you! Or, honestly just chat if you’re up for it. My love for Tolkien’s characters is brimming over and I’ve got so many plot bunnies I need to write and gush over.

Anyways, something that has been stuck in my head as of late is Dwalin and his little hobbit wife on the journey to Erebor. Just imagine big, burly Dwalin who scares the shit out of everyone making his wife sleep flat upon him when Thorin has them stop to camp in an area with uneven, rocky ground. It’s just so cute to me for some reason?? Id kill to draw little shapes on his chest while curled up in his arms. As soon as you drift off he’s glaring daggers into anyone who dare raise their voice or attempt to rouse you. Oh goodness, and Bilbo being absolutely flabbergasted that very first night with the company! Such an entertaining, sweet thought.

Ugh. Id kill for this man. So fast. Anyways, I hope you’re doing absolutely lovely, sweetheart, and I thank you for receiving my thoughts 🤍🤍

~ ❄︎

(ohhhhhh this is so cute and we absolutely need more Dwalin content! I'm gonna do some headcanons for it if that's ok :) enjoy (and apologies for this taking so long)!)

(Dwalin x female!hobbit!reader)

The vibe of the two of you next to each other is a boulder and a literal ray of sunshine. It's a strange contrast to the people around you, but the two of you complement each other perfectly.

He's so incredibly protective over you that even Thorin hesitates to make any kind of comment about you.

This has its benefits, as the whole company are very respectful of you and will do whatever they can to keep you safe.

Obviously, Dwalin is well aware that you will face many discomforts and dangers on the road. This does not stop him from absolutely spoiling you with all the comfort he can.

If you're the slightest bit cold, he'll give you his cloak. He helps you down from your pony every single time without fail. He gives you extra food when he can (hobbits need their second breakfast, after all). And, while it may give him more comfort than he'll admit, he makes you sleep on top of him if you show even the barest hint of discomfort on the ground.

(his love language is absolutely acts of service)

While the others are surprised at the softness this shows, and Bilbo is positively mortified at the impropriety, none of them dare to comment and any looks are met with a glare that shuts their mouths before they've opened.

He drapes his cloak over the top of both of you, with your head tucked into his chest and his arms around your waist.

Genuinely he makes the best pillow ever, and he radiates heat which is ideal when you're camping.

Once you've fallen asleep and he's threatened everyone else into being sufficiently quiet, he loves to just watch you while you sleep. Your face is so peaceful, and he thinks you're the most perfect being he's ever seen.

It makes him feel so lucky and makes him even more determined to try and give you the world.

#the hobbit #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x y/n #dwalin #dwalin x reader #dwalin imagine

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

Note

after scrolling through your posts i felt complelled to send an ask (i wonder why)

This kinda? relates to all the languages posts you've been making (was giggling and kicking my feet while reading them, and got inspired) but because I only speak English, I wanted to put a twist on it.

Creator who has audio processing issues and doesn't realise that Teyvat DOES actually speak the same language as them for a good while.

Because as a person with very good hearing, i sure don't fucking understand what people are saying most of the time, especially in big crowds. (its like listening to the sims sometimes man, i'm fighting for my life trying to understand😭)

So imagine a Creator getting dropped into Teyvat and getting found by a group of hunters or treasure horders, who instantly start panicking and talking all at once because 'omg our god is here' and all that.

And the Creator is still confused and diorientated, so all they're hearing is ✨words✨and they just assume that no one in Teyvat will understand them.

And then when they arrive in one of the nations and get to meet the vision bearers for the first time, the Creator makes a thirsty comment about one of them (probably would be Diluc in my case) and the entire crowd just goes SILENT.

So silent that the Creator can perfectlly understand what that vision bearer said in response.

Anyway, i love your blog :) not sure when you're going to get this, time zones are funny, but I hope you like it

Giggling and kicking?? Over my stuff??? 🥺🥺🥺💘💘💘 You sneaky little charmer ✨️

ALSO

AUDIO PROCESSING DISORDER ASK!!!!?????!!!!

IM IN THE MIDDLE OF TRYING TO GET ADHD DIAGNOSIS AND GOT AN APD TEST NOT TOO LONG AGO BC THOUGHT I HAD IT!!

FRIENDO!! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!! ✨️✨️✨️🌸🌸🌸

Have a cookie!! 🤲🍪 tysm for the ask im very very happy to see it!! :D!!

(subliminalmessagingyouwillgoclicktheaskbuttonandsendmeanasksubliminalmessaging)

AHFJDLLAHFAAJSK!! LOSING IT OVER THIS!!

(Me from the future editing: Sorry i wrote an entire sloppy written scenario over this its diluc focused, jfc sorry and i hope u get smth outta it 💀)

Oh good lord you being some kind of Creator god after getting sucked into the goddmn video game world is absolute HELL for your APD

Aint nobody tellin u nothing bc i can totally see that scenario happening bc everyone is like blabbering at you constantly, they all wanna get close to you to talk so its just [insert that general cafe crowd noises here]

Like u wish u had lofi to go with it bc u sure as hell cant get a word in edgewise

I know i keep writing abt Mondstadt, mostly bc first city -> intro to game -> therefore you land there

But i promise ill branch out guys but i got an excuse this time u mentioned Diluc 🔥

Honestly bc u probably arent trying to talk back to them (which they dont rlly know why? Bc they totally have heard ur voice while u were in ur world, when they were ur vessels)

They kinda assumed either A. You lost your voice B. You're overwhelmed, ppl r getting WAY too close to you, back off Npcs C. Or you don't speak THEIR language

So ofc Mondstadt brings you into the city and their planning a big ol festival, u came right in time for Windblume anyway, and by the time your done shaking hands and just waving and smiling (bc what else can u do u cant hear these fuckers, maybe u caught a "the" or a "hello" but you could've definitely been imagining it)

And finally you are free of the general crowd, but most of the Vision bearers (Allogenes) who were ur vessels wanna stick around, so u all end up in Angel's Share somehow

It's hella packed, and it's a bar.

So yeah u still can't hear shit, and now it just sounds like one of those fantasy medieval bar audios ambience videos

Ur just kinda kicking ur feetsies on a bar stool while like,, 4 or 5 differrent special character dishes are sitting in front of you

Diluc's behind the bar, and has been so sweetly attentive to you all evening, no matter how many tipsy patrons come up yelling for refills or drinks (or at least thats what u assume, bc u kinda end up just,, jumping and hitching ur shoulders up and trying to be lowkey about covering ur ears...)

He always comes and refills ur glass when it gets to even half-full, swiping away plates that have gone cold, and if you still want smth off of it, he's so perceptive no language needed bc he just sees your face and starts heating up the plate again with his vision with his hand :)

He's actually been the best thruout all this bc he already isn't super talkative, so ur pretty sure you've only seen his mouth open a few times, but otherwise u just communicated with him via actions/expressions

So ur chilling, well sorta, ur starting to kinda get overstimulated by the day and now this loud ass bar, and the fact that ur convinced no one speaks English here...

But hey!

Diluc's cool, u got food, and maybe u can charade to him u wanna find somewhere to retire to now for the night,,

You try and do that but he's pretty busy running around still,

"Damn, at least I get to see his ass though."

...

Diluc freezes.

You freeze.

Jean, Lisa, Venti, Amber, Kaeya, Rosaria freezes.

The whole bar goes silent.

Their god of gods finally spoke.

Oh they can understand you alright. (Also u were looking right at Diluc when you said it so, kinda obvious who u mean, somebody points to you behind Diluc)

Diluc just kinda,, sputters, like jerkily turns around and everything like a fried robot

"I- ahem- I- um- y-your Grace- I-"

Poor guy.

He doesn't even know what to say 🤷‍♂️

He has been progressively getting closer and closer to his hair color, his cheeks, his neck, his ears its a full white boy flush he cant escape its so obvious (should he say thank you? How do u even begin to thank a god for complimenting ur ass??!!)

He's caught between facing you and turning around and ducking back into the kitchen and never coming out again (unless it's just you two)

...Was it always this hot in here? Or did Diluc do this to you? 😵‍💫

(Well at least it's a lot quieter now)

You take the next logical step in this situation, and gently let your head thud into the bar.

...

It's a tie between Venti and Kaeya who busts out laughing first.

CHRIST ALMIGHTY IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE TUMBLR MAKES IT "READ MORE" BC I CANT FIND THAT OPTION ON MOBILE

IF U KNOW WHERE THAT BUTTON IS PLS LET A BITCH KNO 😭😩

UPDATE I FIGURED IT OUT FUCK YEAH

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

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starlightsearches · 2 years

Note

Just saw your post for kinky prompts 👀 what do we think about hate-fucking Eddie 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Payback

Kinky Prompts

My friend, we think veeeeerrrry favorably about being hate-fucked by Eddie! Thank you for sending this in 💖 Requests are open; comments, likes and reblogs make me soooooooooooooooo happy!

Eddie Munson x Virgin! Femme! Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, PIV sex, protected sex, spanking, virginity kink (kind of), corruption kink (kind of), fingering (f), orgasm delay (f), clothed sex, crying during sex, a little tender for hate-fucking whoops but i contain multitudes, mentions of canon-typical violence, language, season 4 volume 1 spoilers!

"You know you don't have to babysit me, right?"

Eddie pops around the corner from one of the bedrooms, awake from his third nap of the day and scratching at his skin under the collar of his hellfire shirt. The movement puts the top of a tattoo on display, but you can't identify it from this angle, not without catching the black collar in your finger and pulling it down a few more inches.

You tear your eyes from him, glancing at the windows out of habit, letting out a sharp breath through your nose. The curtains are still closed—just like the last time you checked—but his shadow could still be visible to someone passing by.

"It was Nancy's idea. Will you sit the fuck down?"

Eddie rolls his big dumb eyes, plopping down on the floor beside you. He keeps his long legs bent, pale knees poking from the rips in his jeans.

"Well at least you're not cranky about being stuck with me, princess. Because that would make my exile totally unbearable."

You meet his eyes, catch his mocking smile, and shift an inch to the side.

"First off, don't call me princess. Second, you smell like shit. When's the last time you showered?"

He huffs, pretending to think, chin cupped in his hand. "Probably around the last time you slept. If those bags under your eyes get any bigger they're gonna need their own zip code."

You just flash him your middle finger, resting your head against the cupboard and trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your eyes. It's not like you've been trying to stay awake, but stress could do that to you. Every time you closed your eyes, your brain went into overdrive—imagining the yawning horror you'd feel finding your friends' bodies with their arms bent at odd angles and their eyes gouged out.

Eddie nudges you with his knee just as a shiver travels through you, denim he wears brushing against your bare thigh, repeating the movement over and over again until you look at him. He ignores the glare you give him.

"Seriously though, how long have you been awake? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I can manage not to burn the house down for a couple of hours without your constant supervision."

"Right," you scoff, "and when Jason and his friends show up to beat your ass, you can annoy them to death."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

The sun's just starting to set beyond the windows—his cue to stand without you yelling at him again—and he does, navigating the darkening kitchen with ease and grabbing a cereal box from the counter. "Out of curiosity, how are you planning on protecting me? Besides batting your eyelashes and bending over in that little skirt?"

"Something along those lines, yeah."

Eddie still doesn't know about the baseball bat you borrowed from Steve, hidden under the couch. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't need to.

"Good to know they'll all be rock hard when they kill me. Wouldn't have it any other way."

You make a face—maybe just to hide the way your eyes go wide at the idea of anybody being rock hard. "You're disgusting."

"So I've been told," he says, spraying a mouthful of honey comb, "by you, actually."

You just stare at him blankly, watching him chew as you replay the last few days. A lot had happened since you'd saw him threaten Steve with that busted bottle, and you'd called plenty of names during that time, but disgusting wasn't one of them. "No I haven't!"

He's not looking at you, admiring the silver glint of his rings, fingers splayed.

"You're friends did though," he says, quiet enough that you have to stand just to hear him, "and I don't remember you going out of your way to shut them up."

Oh. He's not talking about your friends—Steve and Dustin and the others. He's talking about your friends, the ones from before—the little clique of girls you ate lunch with every day for four years without really knowing each other at all.

"Whatever," you shrug, trying to brush off the accusation, sorting through the food Dustin had picked out to keep your hands busy, "that was high school."

He's unimpressed with your defense. "Okay, well you were a bitch in high school."

It hasn't even been a year since your graduation, but the person you were then isn't someone you'd recognize anymore. Hearing him say that about you makes your stomach sink—remembering all the times you had been a bitch to Eddie and people like him. You'd never be able to take those moments back, no matter how often you and your new friends saved the world.

You do your best to hide the hurt, reaching for a handful of M&Ms. If defense wouldn't work, you'd have to go offensive.

"If we're gonna bring up high school, you fucking started it."

Eddie leans in close under the guise of snatching some of the chocolate from your hand, warm fingers dancing over the skin of your palm.

"How'd I do that?" he asks with mock sincerity. Your heart races watching the movement of his dark pink lips.

"You know . . . you were always kicking my chair in Mrs. Click's class, and sticking chewed gum in my notebook when I turned to talk with Jared or Ashley, and- and whatever."

You can't look at him and talk at the same time. Not when he's got a few strands of hair caught up in his ridiculously long eyelashes, luring you into the warm center of his gaze, trying to trap you there.

He brushes some of the hair out of his eyes, sliding a little closer, chest pressed up against your shoulder. His skin is warm enough you can feel it through his shirt. His voice gets throatier when he whispers.

"How else was I guy like me supposed to get your attention?"

The M&Ms are turning to mush in your palm, crunching a little when your fist tightens involuntarily. You drop the chocolatey glob on the table, sliding away from him and facing the sink, hoping he couldn't feel the heat in your cheeks.

"You've made funnier jokes, Munson."

He just keeps talking, even with your back turned to him, spewing out shit that makes your whole body tense.

"Not a joke, babe. I've always had a thing for pretty girls with sticks up their asses. Figured somebody needed to fuck that attitude out of you."

You've got a death grip on the towel beside the sink, dripping little puddles all over the counter.

"I don't have anything up my ass," you mutter under your breath, as if a weak attempt like that would stop him when he's just getting started.

"—and I figured I could do the job, since those dickheads always drooling around you looked too stupid to fuck their way out of a paper bag—"

You just scrunch your nose, talking to yourself, "like I would know anything about that."

You're sure he won't notice your mumbled response, not when he's having such a good time talking to himself. And you're busy—in your own way—thinking about how many of those same dickheads had left you drunk in party bathrooms or alone in the woods on moonless nights when you'd shoved their hands away from your hemline one too many times.

"What?"

Eddie heard you, somehow—the one time you didn't want him to. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you do your best to change the subject. "Nothing. We really should talk about something else—"

"Wait, are you—?"—Eddie's sidled right beside you at the counter, leaning forward on both arms, smiling so fucking wide your hand itches to slap the smug look from his face— "Holy shit, are you a virgin?"

Fuck.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it!"

You throw the towel at him, but it just smacks against his chest with a disappointing thud, doing nothing to tone down your anger or the stinging embarrassment. "God, don't you ever shut up?"

He's totally immune to your little tantrum, taking one of your hands in his own, bringing it close to him, playing with your fingers.

He's got big hands. They practically swallow your own with no effort, the boar's head ring smiling up at you. You don't want to think about what they'd feel like touching you elsewhere, his huge, hot palms cupping your ass, spreading you apart with his ring-heavy fingers.

"Aw, baby," he coos, "if you wanted me to be your first, you could've just asked."

"Don't be delusional, Munson," you say, yanking your hand from his grip. It tingles a little where he's touched you, nerves deadened when they're not feeling him.

It's not like you cared that much about who was your first; it was always more about how. All those other losers had been fine with a quick fuck in the back of a car and you weren't about that. It's not like you expected candles and rose petals and shit—just a guy who'd at least try to get you off.

With the way he's looking at you now, Eddie's seeming more and more like the perfect candidate.

"Yeah, delusional, okay," Eddie's tone is sarcastic as he rolls his eyes, coming in close, seeing right through you like a piece of glass. His hair is brushing against your cheeks, hot breath on your neck, and your whole body responds, thighs pressing together, a thick swallow in your throat. He smells like cigarettes, with the faintest faded whiff cologne underneath the sharp sting of sweat. The more you have of it, the more you want.

There's something sinful reflected in his eyes when you look at him; it takes a second for you to recognize it's your own expression.

"Five bucks says you're wet for me right now."

He's surprised the sarcasm right out of you, reading you like that—leaving your voice weak and breathless, without your usual bite. "In your dreams, maybe."

"Oh yeah, all the time,—" the tips of his fingers brush against the outside of your thigh, "—but that's not what we're talking about here."

His palm is like a brand, pressed just above your knee, thick thumb stroking across your bare skin.

"Stop that," you whisper. Your throat burns with the smell of him.

He just cocks a brow. "You want me to?"

No. You won't say it—swallowing the word down and staring at him in silence—but you can't say yes, even if you don't mean it. He's the kind of guy who would actually stop if you did.

And you can't have him stop.

His hand curls into a fist against your skin until you lose contact with the cool metal of his rings. Eddie's expression is almost stern.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say it, princess."

The nickname doesn't bother you this time, stoking the heat at your core enough to loosen your tongue, just in case he might say it again. "No. I don't want you to stop."

The smile he gives you is worth your pride a hundred times over.

"Good girl."

Eddie's hand moves painfully slow, tips of his fingers brushing over goosebumps like he's trying to read braille, doe eyes staring down at you, gaze flickering towards your lips. It could be ironic that the one time you were desperate for a guy to rush through this part, the guy in question is determined to take his time.

It could be ironic, if it wasn't so fucking infuriating.

"Eddie," you say—way too desperate—but he just smiles at the shift of your hips as you take the last inch between his fingers and the soaked fabric of your panties by force.

Fuck, he feels good between your thighs—even just this part of him. He strokes his fingers back and forth, pinching a little at your covered pussy, laughing at the gasping sound you make when one of his rings catches against your clit.

You don't even care that it was this easy for him. You couldn't give less of a fuck.

He's got dimples in his cheeks from the grin he wears. "I'm flattered, sweetheart. This all for me?"

He's still stroking you, a smooth back and forth with his long, beautiful fingers. It's hard to form words anymore.

"Sh- shut up."

"About this?" His hips are harsh against yours, "uh-uh, never. I'm never gonna shut up about this wet. fucking. pussy."

He's breathing hard, gripping roughly at your cunt, punctuating each word with a brush against your clit, the tip of one finger past your lips and stroking along your entrance. Even through the cotton it makes you squirm, the feel of the soft, wet fabric almost too much for your sensitive cunt.

Your clumsy hands meet at his belt buckle, just resting there, arms jellied by the way he's touching you.

"Eddie."

He's got his ear pressed up against your cheek, a few of his flyaways sticking to the sweat on your temples. It's good he's so close or he might not be able to hear you at all.

"Yeah?" His chest heaves, arm muscles tight where they press against your stomach. When you lean back enough to meet his eyes, he's got his tongue caught between his teeth.

"I don't—fuck—I don't have five dollars."

"What?"

He actually stops his assault on your pussy for just a moment, and you breathe a soft laugh. It's nice to know you're not the only one who can be caught of guard.

"The bet. I owe you five—"

The thrust of his hips cuts off the end of your sentence, alarm bells ringing in your head. He hadn't been carrying anything in his pockets, as far as you knew—no switchblade or flashlight or a fucking cucumber by the feel of it. Which could only mean one thing.

Eddie Munson is rock fucking hard. For you.

His hand still cups your pussy as the other takes you by the neck, palm easily spanning your entire jaw and there's no chance you'd even think about fighting him when he guides you closer to his lips.

"I think we can work something out."

Eddie's kisses are intoxicating—hot and wet and strong, putting a burn in your throat from the power behind it—body aching at the way he bends you, his jaw pressed tight against yours, guiding your body with every shift of his head. He's got his tongue past your open lips, tasting like cigarettes and sugary breakfast cereal and stale sleep and it's still got you weak at the knees.

Kissing Eddie is everything.

He's making little moaning noises against your lips, the pressure behind his hips denting your back against the counter, digging into you enough there might be print of his dick on your thigh when he pulls away. His hand has gone still as he's caught up in this kiss, and grinding down against his fingers isn't enough anymore for the gnawing heat in your cunt.

You pull back, turning your head a little to the side when he chases after your lips.

"Fuck me, Eddie."

Even in the fading light, you can see how dark Eddie's eyes have become—already deep irises swallowed by black pupils.

"Really?"

His adam's apple bobs with a harsh swallow, like he didn't even think it would get to this point. You don't have time to worry about the statistical likelihood of a situation where you'd be begging Eddie Munson to fuck you—not with the way your pussy is throbbing.

"God, Eddie. Yes."

The muscles in his throat tense, thin blue veins distended, and if he's nervous taking control, he doesn't show it. You, on the other hand, are shaking like a fucking leaf.

"Bend over," he tells you, and you comply without comment—just grateful you don't have to make any of these decisions yourself—stretching out long, arms at an angle against the wall and chest flat against the table top.

There's the heat of his body against your thighs as Eddie steps closer, hips looming behind you, just out of reach. The fabric of your skirt is shifted out of the way, bunched up around your waist, and then Eddie's broad palm cups your ass, thumb achingly close to your core again, whispered touch moving closer, closer, the flat of his thumb pressed against your dripping hole. His other hand reaches for the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down roughly over your hips with the scrape of his rings until they fall to your ankles, leaving you totally bare.

And then you feel the harsh smack of his hand against the swell of your cheek, hips forced into the counter and a low moan on your lips.

You're still reeling when you turn back to look at him.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie!"

"Sorry, baby, but I had to," he laughs, untouched by your anger as always, looking a little endeared by the glare you send over your shoulder.

"You could warn me first," you grumble. Then maybe you could have done something about the mortifying sound you'd just made.

His fingers rub gently at the mark he must have left against your ass cheek, soothing the ache as he presses his chest against your back. "Where's the fun in that?"

He grins—face framed by wild hair, big eyes shining—and it mollifies you, but only slightly.

"Are you gonna fuck me or not?"

"Patience, baby," —he leans off you, reaching into his back pocket for a little silver-foiled packet—"safety first."

A fucking condom. You roll your eyes. "How long have you had that on you?"

"Since you told me you were staying. Rick keeps a bunch lying around—figured it couldn't hurt to be prepared."

So he's been thinking about fucking you for the past two days. You're not sure if that makes you more desperate or more annoyed.

You lay your head back down, rolling your eyes even though he can't see them at this angle. "You're an ass, Eddie Munson."

Not that you care, not with the sound of his zipper and the clink of his belt—which definitely make you hornier—the crinkle of the condom wrapper and the way you hear him spit a piece of the shiny foil onto the floor after opening it with his teeth.

With your cheek pressed to the table, you can't see what he's doing, shifting your hips side to side as you as you wait to feel him touch you again. It starts with a hand at your hip, pulling you against him, the white-hot pit in your stomach fueled by the feeling of his cock pressed between your ass cheeks, teasing you with a few soft strokes.

"You sure you want this?"

His other hand wraps around your waist, splitting your folds with his fingers, just barely petting across your clit. You can feel your pussy dripping for him.

"God, yes. Pl—"

He cuts you off, the end of the word lost in an ungodly moan as he presses the thick head of his cock past your messy entrance, and the stretch is already unreal—a searing sting that has your eyes rolling back in your head and your nails biting into your palms.

"Christ, baby, you're fucking tight," he says, with a hint of awe in his voice, sliding forward another inch, drunk on your little whimpered sounds.

You can't keep quiet as Eddie thrusts forward again, and again, and again, going until you're sure it would be impossible for him to have any dick left, cunt pulsing around him like its in cardiac arrest.

And then he gives you another inch.

"Fuck," —it's the only word you know anymore, the only thing you can think past the tremors running up and down your entire body, every brain cell you've got focused on the stunning pain stretching out your cunt, so full it's like you can feel the tip of him nudging at your lungs. "Fuck."

Eddie's not saying a word—a first for him—but you can tell he's thinking the same thing you are, can feel the letters F-U-C-K printed against your hip bones on the tips of his fingers. His breathing is loud and messy, shifting his hips just slightly until there's the soft slap of his balls against the backs of your thighs.

"Gotta, Jesus,"—two of Eddie's fingers press down against your clit, and you whine, wiggling a little at the feeling until his other hand tightens against your hips, "gotta loosen you up a little, baby. I'm 'bout to fuckin' bust."

He sandwiches you against the counter as he shifts forward to improve the angle of his fingers, circling your clit steadily. Your legs part, a little wider, hoping to make room for more of the feeling he's giving you.

"That's a good girl," Eddie groans.

You hadn't even noticed the way you'd been rocking your hips back against him, too absorbed by the feeling of his dick nudging at some shining point inside you, setting off fireworks behind your eyes with each brush.

He thrusts into you in earnest, and it's like you can hear the pop of your mind's pyrotechnics, the bass thudding in your chest, coming out of your mouth as long, throaty moans.

And Eddie must like those noises you're making, because it's got him pounding at you faster—slamming his whole dick into you hard enough to make the cupboards shake.

"Gonna ruin this fucking virgin pussy," he says, but you're not sure if you're meant to hear, or if it's a promise he's making to himself, "gonna ruin you for the next asshole who comes along."

"Fuck Eddie, I want you to . . . don't- don't want anybody else."

Jesus, where did that come from? Half an hour ago you were teetering on the edge of throttling him and now you're promising him a life-time unlimited supply of pussy.

If he replies, you can't hear him over your high-pitched whine as he pinches at your clit, strumming at you with his guitar-calloused finger tips.

"Gonna cum," you warn him, lashes fluttering at the way the heat is building in your gut and your pussy and your chest, building higher and higher, ready to take you.

Until he pulls back, totally still with his hands at your hips.

"Edddiiiieeeeeeeeeee."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. The feeling's gone, and no amount of whining is going to get it back, the opening of your cunt trembling and dripping and empty.

He shushes you, one hand at your neck, ring biting at your throat and the chain at his wrist brushing against your chin as he pulls you close. Fat tears blur your vision until he's one big, brown smudge of hair and pink skin.

"Can't make it too easy for you, honey," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your puffy lips. You blink the tears from your eyes.

"That was mean."

His chest shakes with laughter, and some of your spend smears across your cheek as he brushes a strand of hair back behind ear. "Let's consider it payback, princess. You wanna cum this time?"

I wanted to cum the last time, you think, but don't say it. He's fucked the antagonism right out of you. "Yes, please."

He kisses you, and the angle is awkward with you propped up on your hands, his tongue halfway down your throat as his other hand guides the head of his cock back to your throbbing entrance. He slides inside with ease.

It feels better with him this close, his thrusts shorter and slower but hitting you just right, hips slapping against yours, belt and chains jangling in time with the wet squelch of your cunt. It feels better when you can taste him, running the tip of your tongue along the edge of his teeth.

"You close again, baby?" he asks between sharp breaths. You nod, feeling hot, feeling used, thighs coated with your sticky wet cum, and body trembling in his grasp.

"Eddie," his name is like a cry on your lips, everything else stolen. You can't get the other words out, can't tell him that you feel it looming and it's heavier than the last time and it's strong enough to scare you, can't tell him that you don't know what's going to happen or who you'll be on the other side. "Eddie."

He's unphased, laughing, face mashed up against your cheek. "Tell me about it."

It takes you, fucking swallows you up and spits you out. Your whole body is pulsing, a ten on the Richter scale emanating from your pussy. Total devastation.

He thrusts into a few more times, fucking you through it, short bursts that make you whimper until the quaking stops and he groans, sliding from your cunt.

"God fucking damn," Eddie says, rattling around the kitchen, and you don't have a single brain cell left to wonder what he's doing, "how was that for your first time?"

It's a good question. You shift experimentally, aching in places you didn't know existed and numb everywhere else.

He's back at your side with a wet dish towel in hand. Eddie pets it gently between your legs, cleaning up everything sticky from your skin and your hair. You just hope Rick won't mind finding a towel covered in pussy juice in his house whenever he gets out of prison.

There's a soft look in Eddie's eyes as he cleans you up, tongue caught between his teeth, and it has you gnawing on your lips—a melty feeling in your chest no orgasm could cause.

"So . . . what happens now?"

You're not sure what you're hoping for—if you want him to kiss you, or tell you he'll fuck you whenever, no strings attached, or promise he'd never bring up the way you screamed for him ever again.

Actually, you know you don't want the last one. Beyond that, you're willing to take what you can get.

"Now," Eddie says, cupping your face in his hands, "you finally get some fucking sleep."

Maybe he's being stupid on purpose, saving your question for another time when you've got a little more mental prowess available and he's not being hunted for sport. Eddie leads you to Rick's bedroom, one hand at your waist, and your exhaustion hits you in a wave. You hadn't even realized how hard you'd been working to keep your eyes open.

The rest of you might be on the edge of sleep, but your suspicion is wide awake. "Did you only fuck me to tire me out?"

Eddie chuckles, crawling onto the big mattress and guiding you up with him, his body softer beneath yours in the darkness.

"Not only," he whispers, arms tight around your waist, "but I think it worked out alright."

You're breathing steadier already, having him here. There's no need to listen for him alive outside the door when you've got his heart beat beneath you. You'd never realized how much you worried about him whenever he was out of your sight.

"Eddie?"

He's lit a cigarette—you can see the red orange tip of it glow brighter in the darkness when he takes a drag.

"What, baby?"

"I'm sorry I was a bitch to you in high school."

His chest rises and falls with steady breaths. "Don't worry about it."

And then it's quiet again, your eyelids falling closed and staying that way. Eddie keeps a hand on you—sometimes stroking gently over your arm, or nestled tight at your waist. You would have thought that kind of movement would keep you awake, but you can feel your body grow heavier against him, muscles relaxing under his touch.

"Hey, Eddie?" You don't even bother to open your eyes this time.

"What is it now?"

"Can we do that again," you ask, sentence broken up by a soft yawn, "you know, when I wake up?"

"Sure thing, baby," Eddie promises, "whenever you want."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson/you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson smut #requests #my writing #minors dni

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l1tw1ck · 2 years

Text

Dottore's Failed Experiment

FTM!Bottom!Dottore x Top!Masc Reader x FTM!Dom!Pantalone

Request | Kinktober | No AFAB language Ver (AO3)

Contains: Non-Con, Test Subject Reader, Oral Sex/Face Fucking, Voyeurism (Pantalone), Choking, Unconsciousness, Cunnilingus (Pantalone), Sadism (Pantalone)

Words: 1,113

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"Good afternoon, Doctor, I trust your experiment is going well?" Pantalone waltzes into the room, smiling.

Dottore freezes and turns to Pantalone nervously, he's the only person who could make Dottore cower in fear. "You see.."

"Don't tell me you've wasted the money I loaned you?" Pantalone raises an eyebrow.

"It's just...well, the specimen um is fairly ordinary save for the, hm, high stamina and sex drive..." Dottore looks at the floor. "Eh heh.."

"Did you do that on purpose? I hadn't imagined you were that kind of person." Pantalone glances over to your body, lying down on a metal table with a large boner poking through your shorts. "Have you tested it out?"

"What? Of course not! I'm utterly ashamed of this!" Dottore shakes his head.

"...Can it at least follow orders?" Pantalone asks.

"Uh- yes."

Pantalone walks towards the table, gently pushing Dottore out of the way. "Sit up."

You sit up immediately.

"Hm. I'll make use of this. Dottore, don't go against me." Pantalone says before ordering you to stand up.

"What do you mean..?" Dottore asks, eyes wide. He didn't take Pantalone as the type to want to use something like that.

"You. Do whatever you wish with him." Pantalone points to Dottore. "Don't listen to him if he tells you to stop."

Dottore looks at you in horror as you bring him to his knees.

"Are you serious?" Dottore asks frantically, gasping when you pull your pants down, your boner looking even bigger than before. "Tell it to stop! Pantalone!"

"You've disappointed me, Dottore, but you might as well make use of your failure." Pantalone smiles. "Don't try to fight back, unless you'd like to do something else to pay for your debt..."

Dottore bites his lip, knowing that whatever Pantalone has planned alternatively is far worse than whatever you'll do to him. He grimaces as he watches you pull your underwear down, your hard cock slapping him in the face.

"That's a good boy." Pantalone coos. He sits down on a chair to watch the entertainment comfortably.

Dottore shivers, both at Pantalone's words and at how huge you are. He shoots Pantalone a look that he knows the other won't be able to see due to his mask.

"You...you won't let him come inside me, right?" Dottore asks, knowing you could definitely produce enough to ensure that he could end up pregnant.

"Of course not." He lies. Dottore sighs in relief.

You pull his mask away and pry his bottom lip open as you use your other hand to guide your dick inside him.

Dottore lets you fuck his mouth, albeit unwillingly. His eyes start to water as you use him like a toy.

Pantalone watches with a smile on his face, loving the display in front of him.

You ravage the doctor's mouth over and over, your cock never softening no matter how many times you come in his mouth. His mouth is sore from you never giving him a break. Cum and drool are spilt on the ground, the remains of what he couldn't swallow.

Much to the doctor's relief, you finally pull out of his mouth.

Dottore coughs and wipes his mouth. "Are you happy now, Pantalone?"

"No, not even close."

Dottore gasps as you push him to the ground. You rip his clothes off eagerly and nudge your cock inside him.

"Fuck! At least use lube you cretin!" Dottore grimaces as you push further inside, he was barely aroused so the stretch was incredibly painful. "You- you're getting off on- fuck- this, aren't you?"

Pantalone only laughs in response.

With the way your cock is filling him up, Dottore starts to think that maybe doing whatever alternative Pantalone had planned would've been better than this. He makes a face when he sees the fairly large bulge in his stomach.

You eventually bottom out and start fucking him without even waiting for him to adjust. You groan and wrap your hands around his neck, squeezing tightly. He slaps your arms in desperate attempts of having you let go, your thrusts are punching the air out of his lungs and having his breathing restricted is certainly not helping.

"St- stop th- the thing! Pan- Pantalone!" Dottore keeps fighting back despite knowing his efforts are fruitless. Pantalone couldn't care less for how he feels. "You ass!"

You continue fucking him despite all of his squirming, keeping your hands on his throat while you indulge in your desires.

Dottore eventually passes out, falling limp as you keep using his body to satisfy you. You let go of his neck and grip his waist instead. Pantalone squirms in his seat, getting off on you fucking Dottore.

"Feel free to come inside him." Pantalone chuckles.

You growl in excitement, fucking him til your release. You unload your spend inside him, filling him up without his knowledge.

When Dottore comes to, he immediately notices the odd feeling inside of him. "Don't- ugh- don't fucking tell me!" He looks down and sees bits of your cum dribbling out of him. "Pant- pantalone! You f- fuck- fucking- nngh- lied!" Dottore panics, knowing you'll keep fucking more of your cum inside him.

Pantalone smiles, getting even hornier from Dottore's reaction.

You keep fucking Dottore, releasing inside him so many times that his stomach starts to inflate.

He passes out multiple times and eventually falls silent and allows you to fuck him until your cock runs dry, which he thinks'll never happen.

"You can ejaculate one last time, then stop." Pantalone commands.

You look at Dottore's limp and exhausted body, coming for the nth time and reluctantly pulling out as Pantalone ordered you to.

"Come here." Pantalone instructs. You walk over to him and start drooling when he strips his lower half. "Eat me out."

You quickly comply, spreading his legs further and pulling his sex towards your face. You start licking him up like a dog, making him moan beautifully in response.

You focus all your attention on his cunt, devouring it like you've survived on crackers your entire life. Pantalone bites his lip, pussy twitching in pleasure.

"Yes- fuck, just like that~" He whimpers. "Ooh~"

It doesn't take long for you to bring him to an orgasm, his cunt clenches around your tongue desperately as you suck up his fluids.

Pantalone lets you keep going for a minute before stopping you. "Good boy.." He says, out of breath. "Hm..why don't you uh, clean Dottore up? I'm sure you know where the shower is?"

You nod.

"Good. Make sure he's well rested and I suppose you could find him something to eat." He pets you. "I'll take my leave now."

#male reader #top male reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #wicks🕯requests #genshin x reader #wicks🕯works #genshin x male reader #genshin impact #dottore smut #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #dottore genshin #dottore #bottom dottore #pantalone smut #dark content #🕯️kinktober

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strwbmei · 5 months

Note

Hey Mei, so hear me out i've been thiking a lot about a Mermaid Kiana, for some reason i really think it suits her not to mention i feel like she'll be really playful. Can you imagine being stranded on the sea about to drown and then she saves us. Who knows we might fall for her at some point.

pairing(s): mermaid!kiana x reader

a/n: this idea is so cute!! reader is a pirate for this since I thought it'd be wholesome

Mermaid!Kiana Headcanons

: ̗̀➛ You and your crew had had a party to celebrate your most recent victory— though, really, they'd use any excuse to have some sort of celebration. Not that you can blame them. The booze isn't good quality at all, and the "music" (you and the other crew members drunkenly singing sea shanties) is mediocre at best, but it's always a fun time.

: ̗̀➛ Drunk and careless, you stupidly accepted a dare to do a backflip while standing on the edge of the plank. If you were sober, you'd think this was a stupid idea no matter how good of an acrobat you may or may not think yourself to be; though, 'sober' is the last word you'd use to describe the state you were in...

: ̗̀➛ Maybe you would've been able to pull it off, but when the cheers of your crew mates quickly turned into panicked yelling as a storm suddenly hit, you realized that you might not ever find out. The sky turned grey with an angry blue peaking through the thick clouds whenever lightning struck and you slipped into the cold waters of the ocean. Your body was far too tense from the alcohol to remember how to swim or even float, and soon after, you came to realize that this might actually be the end for you.

: ̗̀➛ Honestly, it'd be a bit funny. Not to be arrogant, but you considered yourself to be a pretty powerful and respected pirate. You weren't anywhere near a legend but you were at a higher rank than most people. It's laughable how even with all of the battles and hardships you fought, you died merely because of a stupid dare. Who knows? Maybe one of your friends will name their kid after you. Or the idiot that gave you this dare in the first place.

: ̗̀➛ Peacefully drifting in the oceans you spent your whole life sailing and trying to conquer, you realize that this... isn't so bad. You know you'd much rather observe how serene and beautiful the underwater is than fight against a raging storm.

: ̗̀➛ It gets even better when you see a mermaid having fun swimming with a school of fish. Her silvery white hair shined like moonlight amongst the colorful fish that seemed to gravitate towards her beauty. Satisfied, you close your eyes, prepared to finally let go of everything and let yourself get carried by the calm waves of the ocean.

: ̗̀➛ It seems that the mermaid is as kind (or curious) as she is beautiful, judging by how you woke up at what you assume would be the shore of an unexplored island with the mermaid's face filled with concern as well as child-like wonder.

: ̗̀➛ Honestly, you're not sure which one of you two are luckier. You get to live, but if the mermaid rescued somebody else, there's a high chance they wouldn't be as thankful as you are. You've seen the worst of humanity's evil; there's no telling what someone would do when met with a mythical creature like her.

: ̗̀➛ Because there isn't really much to do on an uninhabited island, you decide to just... talk to her for a bit. It was mostly just you talking at first, with her attentively listening even though you're not sure if she can even understand you.

: ̗̀➛ She gets a bit anxious when you're not in her line of sight. Sometimes, you'll see her head poking out of the water, waiting for you to come back and see if you're okay. And once you do, you can see her eyes light up and bubbles forming on the surface of the water. It's actually kind of adorable.

: ̗̀➛ After a few days, she was able to mimic some of the human language she picked up from you! You quickly learn that her name is Kiana. You thought she was the shy, introverted type at first, but you couldn't have been any more wrong. Even with her limited vocabulary, she couldn't stop asking questions about you and humans in general.

: ̗̀➛ Of course, since you've got nothing else to do, you answer all of them one by one. Now that Kiana can actually understand, she's much more interested in the way humans live. One of the rare times she makes sure to stay quiet is if you're explaining something along those lines to her. To Kiana, even the simple joys humans take for granted like cooked food and warm clothes are magical fairy tales.

: ̗̀➛ Still, nothing beats your pirate stories! The ocean is all she's known for her entire life and knowing that you've spent most of yours sailing it gives her a sense of familiarity and connection to you. Also, you just sounded really cool effortlessly defeating all of the enemies in your path though that part was largely exaggerated. It wasn't effortless in the least, but you wanted to look cool in her eyes.

: ̗̀➛ Sometimes, Kiana will bring you random things and trinkets that could vary from stuff humans dropped in the water to priceless treasures from the most renowned pirates. One time, she bragged to you about "a treasure that was a gate to another world", which turned out to be a broken shard of a mirror... You had to keep yourself from laughing the entire time; you couldn't bear to be the one to tell her that it was not, in fact, a gate to another world, but something humans merely used to look at themselves...

: ̗̀➛ Speaking of mirrors, Kiana doesn't know that the reflection she's seeing in them is actually her; she thinks it's the ruler of the so-called "other world" that she believes mirrors to be the entrance of. It's a shame that she doesn't know of her beauty, but her brain would probably fry if you taught her about how light worked so you decide to let her live in adorable, ignorant bliss.

: ̗̀➛ After a month or two, you've come to be pretty satisfied with this little "island life" that you've built up from scratch. Maybe your crew has been looking for you, maybe not, but a simple lifestyle like this with nothing to stress about and a companion that you've come to love and care for is perfect.

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jacevelaryonswife · 11 months

Text

Maybe I just wanna be yours

Even though he were handsome and kind, you were successful in avoiding fantasizing about Billy, after all, what is the possibility of seeing him again?

∴pairing: Billy Washington x Fem!reader

∴warnings and a note: fluffy and smut, english is not my first language. This shot was made for this request. 2,8k

ewanverse characters

Your routine was well defined. You would wake up early to work as a waitress at a local restaurant, which worked in the morning until late and was open for breakfasts and lunches, then you would come home and study for a few hours, to finally spend the rest of the day with your mother. Even smaller and working hours less than the other establishments, the restaurant was quite old, classic and well located, with a satisfactory flow of customers every day. It was not exactly what you imagined for your life, but it was a good job, with a good salary and close to your home, a real rarity to find. When the financial situation of your house stabilized, you planned to take a vocational course or a college, but so far you hadn’t made up your mind. While this didn’t happen, you enjoyed the happiness that life provided you, whether it was staying at home on lazy days, taking some walks, buying things, taking advantage of the day off or trying to find some nice guy, but the latter was more of a torment than a happiness in fact.

You've had one night stands and some failed attempts at romance, but you've never found a minimally decent guy to be ideal. You see, you were demanding, but you knew how to be flexible in your choices and yet immense bad luck seemed to haunt your love life. Maybe the mistake was in you after all, maybe you weren't ideal for anyone, not even for the guy who made you pay the dinner bill and blamed you for not being able to make you cum.

No, heavens! He was an asshole, idiot and profiteer, you deserved more than that asshole! But so many disappointments made you stop looking for someone.

Your life was followed the way it was in recent months, a good routine and a well-deserved rest, without many big emotions and weekly happiness in small things, until everything changed when he, Billy, showed up.

An attitude that constantly embarrassed you was to imagine your life with some clients you served, it was pathetic and needy, but you couldn't contain yourself sometimes. Because of the last events of your life, you stopped paying attention to them, but then a tall and slender figure entered a calmer moment of the day, with dirty blonde hair and such beautiful blue eyes. You anticipated to serve him, since your co-worker was with two other desks, greeting him with a simple smile without showing your teeth. “Hello, welcome to Little Jim, I will be in charge of your table. If you need anything, just call,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said softly, returning the smile.

To your surprise, your boss had known him for some time — from what you listened discreetly.

"Billy, how are you, lad? What about Lana? It's been so long since I've seen you two," Jay said with one hand on his shoulder.

"She's fine, you know, a lot at work," he, Billy, replied.

“What about you? Did you find something nice? Something with computers, huh? It's the job of your young people's dream."

Billy lowered his head with a small weak smile. “I got a nice job, the last few years have been a little tough but I managed to reverse the situation,” he pouted.

"You deserve it, you're a good boy and you have the same blood as your sister. Feel free here, who is serving you?"

You pretended to be waiting for the order from the other table as you turned to disguise yourself, but soon heard your name being called by you with a large amount of white threads and looked at him in false curiosity as you walked to his side.

"Take good care of my lad Billy, he's a special customer!" He said playful.

“I will, don't worry,” you smiled at both of them, but even more at Billy, who returned your gesture with sweetness and shyness.

Even though he were handsome and kind, you were successful in avoiding fantasizing about Billy, after all, what is the possibility of seeing him again?

Surprisingly you was discharged, since approximately five days later he returned to the restaurant, but this time he was attended by Nancy, your co-worker and another single waitress. Even busy, you looked at him a few times and caught him stealing glances at you too, causing a shy smile on both of you. No words were exchanged between you that day, but the fate seemed to reserve good things, since three days later he appeared again, only at the time you were closing. You knew you should say goodbye to your boss and leave, but Billy looked so handsome with his clean hair and trimmed beard...

You wanted him to talk to something, anything in your direction.

And then, when you signaled to your boss that you were on your way to catch the bus, he apparently had another idea.

"Billy, are you still living in the same apartment?" He asked, stating that you lived on his own streets. Oh... he lived near...

Mm.

No, stop.

While you were daydreaming about the fact, your boss was already planning some things, such as a possible ride, until you realized it. "Oh no, you don't have to bother!"

"It's not a problem, I'm going home anyway."

Although you was reluctant to accept it, Jay insisted that you go. It would be a hand in the wheel and an economy in your money, what could go wrong? As you got into the car, your old boss blinked suggestively at Billy, making him blush and lower his head in shame. What was better than a cupid?

“Thank you for the ride, it's very kind of you,” you said.

“You're welcome, it's no problem,” he said softly. "So... how long have you been working for Jay?" He tried.

“A few months ago. It's a good job, and he's a good boss,” you answered sympathetically. "And you, how long have you known him?"

"Since I was a kid, he's been a friend of my family."

"Oh, that's good."

The desire to look for another subject was mutual, as well as the shy silence that followed, neither of them confident in asking something particular from the other, so Billy asked another comprehensive question.

"Have you lived here for a long time?"

You watched him calmly, although your heart was a little racing. "A few years ago, not many, we lived somewhere else but things got a little difficult and we need to move."

“I understand,” he contemplated your answer.

"What about you?"

“I've always lived in the region, but I've been living alone for some time,” he replied.

Again the silence gained strength, only more comfortable than before since neither of you were so nervous. However, your side that avoided fantasizing about the beautiful blonde and his incredibly big hands? You can forget it. You were already thinking about him and his pleasant smell, and luckily for him, he remembered Jay's suggestive wink and decided to act when he arrived at your apartment.

“Thank you again,” you said with a shy smile.

"You're welcome, so, would you like to go out for coffee someday?" Billy asked slowly. Oh, how he hated these situations! His self-esteem was not a big deal and receiving a no from a beautiful girl was not pleasant, but then life - and you - seemed to smile at him.

"I'd love to go out with you. But I'm not a big fan of coffee,” you timidly confessed.

Heavens, the little smile he showed you was so cute and sweet, as if your answer had illuminated his whole life. "So what do you suggest?

“Can you give me your number so we can arrange it?"

“Sure,” he gave you the number and his full name. Billy Washington. You had a date with Billy Washington at the weekend at a cute local desserts place that you always wanted to go to. Your mind became restless when you got home, looking for him immediately on social networks to learn more about him. His Instagram didn’t have so much actionable information and the last update was about a year, Facebook was a little more revealing about some curiosities about his age and education — Twitter was out of the question. He was older than you, which caused a different excitement in your belly. But even with your efforts to find out things about your date, that night Billy and you began to chat by messages, starting a routine where curiosities about you were exchanged.

The anxiety built on your body had peaks and falls over the days, disturbing your thoughts. How should you go? Should you really go? After so many loving disappointments your mind and heart were not the most hopeful in a new endeavor, but the fire and the desire to find a love and be found by it were still lit in you. That's why you chose your best products to get ready that day, starting with a fragrant soap for the bath, the hair care kit, waxing cream, moisturizer and body oil, perfume and makeup. You were beautiful and serene, and you knew you would cry if things went wrong this time.

Luckily for you, Billy was extremely punctual. Quickly saying goodbye to your mother and making sure you would send her some messages to say you was fine, you greeted him when you saw him wait in front of the car.

“Hi,” your smile was wider than usual.

“Hi. You look pretty,” he said in a soft voice, opening the car door for you to enter.

“Thank you, you too.”

Maybe fate intended to smile at you, since from the moment you chose the table the dialogue was present at full speed. He talked about his sister's work in the bomb squad, his own work in information technology, some stories of his life and his tastes. You did the same, talking about your reality, your dreams, what you wanted to conquer and the things you found happiness. There was no pattern of dialogue, since at one hour he was telling about his uncle who named his dogs with atypical names, followed by you telling how you fell on your first day of employment.

At the end of each report there was a gaze full of expectation on both sides, an unspoken suggestion. Maybe he was the guy. But it was you who took the first step.

"I wanted to ask something. Doesn't it bother you to go out with someone younger?" Your voice was low and uncertain.

"Doesn't it bother you to go out with someone older?" He answered with another question.

“No, it doesn't bother you,” you said.

"Neither me."

It was already night when you asked for the bill and he fervently insisted to pay, holding your waist on the way back to the car. Your next step was bold, preventing him from opening the door for you as he leaned against it and gently pulled it by the hand to stand in front of you.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you leaned your two hands gently on his chest.

"Me too," he circled your waist, "but you don't have to do that if you don't want to."

A bold smile shone on your face before saying, "I want to. And you?"

He smiled too.

“Me too.”

Your lips touched each other with sweet tenderness, soft and shy as you tasted each other quickly.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

He didn't have to make an effort to convince you to say yes.

Just a few seconds after the apartment door closed, Billy traced his thumb over your lower lip before you kissed again, more intense than before. You held both sides of his head and leaned on his soft lips, returning the anxious desire to prove it. The wet and gentle kiss made you float in his arms, making it easy for him to take your body to the room to undress you without haste, passing his long fingers through each exposed piece of skin. You closed your eyes when you felt the steaming sensation of tongues and teeth in your neck, allowing yourself to sigh loudly. His hands kneaded your naked breasts and the flesh of your ass while diving into your neck, flooding yout mind with such delicious sensations.

“Let me take it off,” you said while holding the hem of his shirt, getting space to grope his deliciously defined chest and with some hair. God, he was so handsome.

You leaned over to return the kisses on his soft chest, sucking the pink areolas to provoke him — and apparently it worked, as the tightness on your waist got sharper. He moaned softly when you spanned him over your pants, closing your eyes and leaving erotic sounds with the intimate massage received. Your hands were masturbating him and your mouth tasting his abdomen were making him warm and needy, making him move away against his taste to remove his pants, shoes and socks.

He pulled you for a messy and wet kiss, sucking your tongue and tasting your tasty lips. He squeezed your ass and waist while depositing your body on the bed, retreating to pick up the condom package in the nightstand drawer.

You felt in the clouds when kisses were planted on your inner thighs, contributing to the accumulation of moisture in your flower.

“Your skin is so soft,” he purred satisfied.

“Mmm. Thank you,” your voice was sly.

And then, your panties were removed to expose your needy intimacy and bright entrance, making his mouth water while more kisses were destined to his belly. “You’re so damn beautiful,”

“You too,” you said out of breath. The wet and loving trail followed your breasts, where he sucked, licked and nibbled like a hungry and spoiled man, making you purr like a cat and your pussy squeeze for him. Your legs caged him and you pulled him for a terrifying kiss full of tongue and teeth crashing, you wanted him so much, you needed him so much. Your hand pulled his beautiful hair while gently scratching the light skin of his shoulder, making him moan and grind against your pussy. “Billy,” you sighed expectantly, every vein of your body burning in eagerness to receive you.

He moved away weakly to remove the last piece of his body and put on the condom, smoothing your leg before adjusting to your entrance. Your eyes closed when he felt him enter and a moan left your throat in the sensation. Billy was slow to push on you, but just as noisy. He held your thighs before moving gradually, at a deliciously slow and constant pace, making you relax and squeeze on his perfect cock.

“Mmm Billy.”

He moaned deeply as he leaned over your body to capture your lips in a quick and superficial kiss, sinking into your neck as he continued to slowly fuck your body. Your legs caged him when the friction of their bodies became too terrifying to hold, so stupidly good to be real, so affectionate and hot that it made you shipwreck with pleasure. His speed increased when you started to squeeze him more intensely, getting lost in yous body and in your hot and wet grip.

"So good… fuck.”he praised you close to your ear, contributing to the construction of your majestic peak that made you moan loudly and twitch belos him with fire burning your body and clear lights blinding your sight. You loved him, it was almost certain — or the orgasm made you believe it.

“I'm close,” he warned breathlessly and with wandering movements before cumming with a deep moan, weighing a little on your body, which you willingly left.

You smiled satisfied and happy for the amazing sex and for the whole set of the night, but a weight on your chest appeared soon after to harm your peace. What if that was all he wanted? Just one night. Oh no, please don't! How should you approach the subject without spoiling the most pleasant weather? Luckily for you, he decided to start.

"Did you like it?" A classic question asked when he rolled to your side after discarding the condom.

“Yes, I did, I liked our day today,” you confessed.

"Me too," he brought you to his chest, "could become common, us you know," he suggested with expectation.

"Do you want it too?" Your eyes shone when he asked, "because I would love to. Us."

Billy smiled, cradling you even closer, his eyes as bright as yours.

"It's a mach, then."

———————————

ewanverse taglist: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-godess

general: @chompchompluke @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

#billy washington #billy washington x you #billy washington x reader #trigger point #smut #billy washington smut #fem!reader #Billy Washington x fem!reader #ewanverse

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pascaloverx · 1 month

Text

Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and future adult content.

preview chapter two

CHAPTER ONE

You never imagined yourself knocking on Dean Winchester's door. I mean, you don't count having had dreams about him that involved you getting to know each other intimately. But going to his apartment to ask for help wasn't in your plans.

"I need you." You say softly as if telling someone a secret. Maybe your speech sounds like a whisper. Dean's obviously not hearing you properly, because he's humming Livin' On A Prayer as the song plays inside his apartment at full volume.

"What?" Dean says almost shouting as he looks me up and down. He looks confused like he doesn't hear you at all. You then decide to do something. You approach Dean almost seductively and say close to his ear that he won't regret it if he turns down the volume.

"Does your sister know you're here trying to get me into bed?" Dean asks as he turns off the music that was playing. Nothing against Bon Jovi, but seeing Dean turn off the sound for thinking he's going to sleep with you kind of lifts your spirits.

"If I were going to let you fuck me, I wouldn't ask my sister's opinion. I don't think you ask Sam's opinion when you decide to have sex." You speak while still standing, hoping that Dean will notice that he is only in his underwear and change into more decent clothes.

"You come over to my house, make me turn off my music and now I've suggested that I ask my brother if I can have sex. This conversation seems better by the minute." Dean speaks clearly enjoying this moment. You end up looking at his body from top to bottom but as soon as he notices, you turn to face the door.

"I need your help." You say while avoiding looking at Dean. He might have noticed, since he put on some pants. Not that you watched him put it on.

"With what?" Dean asks as you turn to face him. He put on his pants but is still shirtless. But now is not the time for you to notice these things. Even though his body is...

"I need to write steamy scenes in my book. But I just can't do it. It's like I can't think of anything sexy and I need to get this book published soon." The words coming out of your mouth don't seem to fully fit together. I mean, what is wrong with you that you would look to Dean Winchester for help?

"And what do I gain? Helping you will take up a lot of my free time, you know..." He seems too convinced, as if his ego could fill the air in the entire apartment.

"Free time? You mean wasted time. You've been living off your rich mother for I don't know how long. And I intend to pay you for the consultancy." You say everything with a certain pretentiousness in your tone of voice. Somehow, Dean Winchester brought out the worst in you.

"Do you think that just because I have a rich mother my life is easy?" Dean says, getting even closer to you, getting so close that you could smell his perfume invade your nostrils. In fact, Dean Winchester smells like men's perfume and sex.

"I think. Maybe it's not the easiest thing for you but it seems easy. So do it as an personal fulfillment, do it for the money, do it to show your mother that you are more than her son." You say feeling a heavy conscience as you realize that maybe you were rude to Dean, maybe even a little unfair.

"Nice attempt to manipulate me. I'm going to deny the offer and urgently ask you to leave my apartment. I'm accompanied and my visitor should be waiting for me in the room. So there's less you want to insult me more or join me and my visit, I suggest you go to your apartment." Dean looks offended, maybe a little irritated. You look at him a little regretfully.

"I'm sorry if I seemed rude. But I would really like your help and I'm willing to give you whatever you want." You say, desperately trying to appeal to the side you know exists within Dean. He might not even notice, but claiming you're willing to give him whatever he wants is just a lure to make him interested. At least that's what you tell yourself. But it doesn't seem to work, he closes the door just as you're about to cross the hallway that separates his apartment from your sister's. What a disaster, now you'll have to stop being a writer and move on to a new field. You can't live forever with your sister.

"Be in my apartment later. Let's start working on your book. And I'll decide what I get for the help I'm giving you. As you said yourself, you'll give me whatever I want." Dean says as he opens the door to his apartment while you open the door to your sister's apartment. You immediately turn around and hug him. Without any explanation, your first instinct was to run into his arms. And you only realize how strange that is when you see the half-naked woman coming out of Dean's bedroom and staring at the two of you hugging at the door.

"See you later, buddy." You say, giving Dean Winchester a slightly friendly punch on the arm so that his visitor doesn't find it so bizarre for him to be hugging you at the door. He looks at you as if you've lost your mind, and then you quickly leave, entering your sister's apartment, hoping that the partnership with Dean Winchester is a good idea.

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