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clownd1ck · 2 months

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trouble, j. miller | chapter one

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: after getting fired from your job at the bookstore, your grandparents introduce you to the man who’s been helping them out for awhile: joel miller. now, it’s his turn to help you.

chapter warnings: reader swears and has dry humour (she’s a bit of me x), mentions of vip’s getting touchy but it’s hypothetical if that makes sense?? reader calls her grandparents ‘pops’ and ‘nonna’, no beta cause i cba, blah blah blah that’s it

also no hate to anyone who reads romance/physical smut books, the hate is simply towards minors who read them & their parents for allowing them LOL

word count: 2518

(series masterlist)

you really don’t know how much longer you can do this.

you’re six hours into your ten hour shift. you’re bored, you haven’t had your lunch break, and your phone is charging behind the desk where you were watching criminal minds before two teenage girls walked into the bookstore.

you’ve watched them for the past twenty minutes. they practically ran to the romance section, picking up books and flicking to certain pages you know had the most pornographic scenes in them before they’d giggle amongst themselves and add it to the pile they were building.

can teenage girls even afford this many books? you had been working since you were sixteen, and you’d barely get enough money to buy yourself two books whilst the rest would be stored away for college. and is this what people were reading nowadays? a male character that exudes toxic masculine standards whilst the author plays into the whole “innocent, virginal” female character who hadn’t the slightest clue about sex or life? is this what parents were allowing their children to-

“we want these books.” a demanding voice speaks to you, and you almost have to do a double take when you see the two teenage girls stood before you at the counter. god, you couldn’t even rely on the younger generation to be polite these days, especially not when one of them is judging you for your oversized hoodie and sweats and the crocs that sit on your feet.

“of course.” you force a smile, biting back on the insults you wish to hurl upon them. but, your boss is in the back. probably doing jackshit like she usually does, leaving you to work your ass off without any breaks.

the scanner scans the barcode on the back of every book before placing them in two bags. dante’s nine circles of hell sounds more appealing than this. you might just grab one of the books and hit yourself with it, hoping you hit so hard you might pass out and get to leave early. not like your boss would allow it, but the thought of having a hot shower and slipping into bed sounded nice.

“and your total is $194.68, is that going to be cash or card?” you rest your hands on the counter, looking at the two girls. one of them whips out a card, so black and matte you almost feel the courage to ask her if: it’s her fathers, and if so, is he single?

you hand her the card machine where she taps the card, and once the payment is deemed successful, one of the girls takes the bag, looks into it and frowns. “these aren’t in the right order.”

“excuse me?”

“the books aren’t in the right order.”

there’s a right order to put books in. none of them were even a series, and even then, does it really matter if your fucking fairy porn trilogy is separated?

“did you ask for them in a certain order?”

the girl gives you a look. “no?”

“so then why would i know what order to put them in?” you’re so done. you’re so fucking done, mentally, physically, and in the eyes of your boss, as well. the girls look at you, mouths agape, probably because they didn’t think they’d be spoken to this way, but you always said that the second a customer is rude to you, you’re being rude back.

the duo scowl at you as they leave the store, muttering insults under their breaths like it was a middle school friendship break up. you sigh, going to turn around to grab your phone when you jump back, spotting your boss leant against the wall.

“you’re fired.” she states.

“yes!” you fist pump the air sarcastically, grabbing your stuff and practically racing out the store. you didn’t even care if you were supposed to wait until the end of your shift to fully leave your job. you were hungry, tired, and your pops and nonna had told you that pops’ infamous burgers would be made for dinner and you were eager.

on your walk home, you listen to your music. it was relatively dark outside, and ideally, as a woman, you shouldn’t be wearing headphones in the dark. but you had always been more frightened by the noises you could hear rather than the ones you couldn’t.

you step into your home, taking your shoes off by the door and walk into the kitchen. you stop at the sight. your pops and nonna were stood in the kitchen talking to a man you have never seen before and you’re almost offended that your grandparents hadn’t allowed you to meet him because jesus christ and all things holy, that man is beautiful.

he’s tall. scarily tall, actually. and not to say you have a thing for muscular men but you would not mind letting this stranger throw you about. he leans on the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest as he eyes you up.

“he. who is he?” you point to the man, looking at your grandparents.

your nonna tuts your name. “he is joel miller, helps us out where we need it. why are you home so early, sugar, i thought you had a ten hour shift today?” nonna embraces you, kissing your cheek as she taps your arm, signaling for you to sit down at the kitchen table.

a faux laugh escapes you. “heh, well, you see-”

“don’t tell me that damn boss of yours ‘s been givin’ you a hard time again.” your pops speaks up this time, interrupting you this time. your pops was a scary man. he used to be involved in a lot of shit back in the day, constantly being chased down streets and alleyways by the police, always having them on his doorstep which would cause his mother to scold him. you can’t count the amount of times he’s threatened to come down and give your boss an earful on both hands.

“she actually fired me. apparently addressing one’s stupidity isn’t allowed. however, i am more focused on joel. joel, what is your purpose in this here house?” your head turns to look at the man as he addresses you, and he gives you a small smirk, walking over to the table and sitting across from you.

“she got a mouth on her, don’t she?” he asks your grandparents, and your nonna chuckles.

“always has. only started living with us when she was eighteen because of college, but she’s always had something to say.”

“something that’s gotta be shared with everyone.” your pops adds, and you give him a playful pout.

“right here guys, right here.” you announce. “back to the topic at hand. joel, why have you interrupted my pops’ burger night?” you’re facing each other now, your eyes analysing his face but all he does is smirk and since when was smirking so attractive on a man?

“well, your grandparents here mentioned how you hated your job, and i just so happen to have one that needs filled at one of my clubs.” his texan accent was prominent and full as he spoke, his brown eyes never leaving yours. “‘s if you want it, of course.”

“what club?”

“apocalypse.”

you slam your hands on the table with a wide grin. “i’m sold. when do i start?”

joel chuckles. “no questions about the pay, the shifts?”

you shake your head. “nope, don’t care. you know how hard that club is to get into?” you turn your head to look at your grandparents. “extremely fucking hard, i’ll tell you that right now. and i’ll get to work in there? god, life is so generous to me sometimes.” you exhale lightly, jokingly.

joel doesn’t stay for your pops’ burgers, but he’s given some to take home anyway. you decide to walk him to the door, being the ever so kind woman that you were, ready to see him off when he stops.

“ya’ start at five p.m. tomorrow, alright? i’ll have someone show you around, get you your uniform ‘nd all that before the club opens.”

nodding your head at joel, you bid him goodbye and watch as he makes his way to a sleek, black porsche, get in, and drive off.

____

“what do you mean you’re working for joel miller?” alicia asks you. alicia was the first friend you made at college after you chewed her ear off for the entirety of your first class. a girl who followed gothic fashion and was an absolute sweetheart compared to the people you’ve known in the past.

“i mean exactly what i said, babe. he’s apparently been looking after my grandparents for awhile and he offered me a job at apocalypse after that old bitch fired me.” you shrug, taking a bite of burger you got from dining hall.

“but joel miller is…he’s dangerous! everyone says his clubs are just money laundering schemes to hide his actual money.” naomi spoke up this time. ever the worrier, she was.

“money laundering would mean that no one was using his clubs and they were just there, naomi. the clubs are exclusive. i mean, we’ve all seen the lines to get in. we’ve been in those lines!” alicia somewhat comes to your defense even though you know she’s fully against you working there.

“my friend tina, the one from the political science class, worked there last year, and she says the pay is amazing!” a woman with black curls approaches your trio, another close friend of yours: georgia. “don’t get me wrong, she said some shady stuff happens in the v.i.p. lounge, but probably just guys gambling or something.”

you embrace georgia. “see, good pay and all i have to do is not ask questions. i’ll be fine, guys. and you,” you look at georgia “need to meet me at our cafe so you can tell me about that little masc lesbian of yours.”

you finish the rest of your burger, and pick up your bag. “gotta get home, but i’ll fill you all when i see you.”

you wave goodbye to your friends, walking out of the building as you scroll on your phone. when you get to the street, you bump into someone, about to apologise until you look up and gasp dramatically. “you! are you stalking me. god, joel, i didn’t know i was worth being stalked. that’s so flattering.”

joel scoffs, and opens the passenger door to his black porsche. “get in. ‘m gonna drive you down to the club.”

“don’t have to tell me twice.” you get into the passenger seat, placing your bag down in between your legs and joel closed your door. he rounds the front, getting in beside you and starts the car.

“ya’ hungry?” he asks, driving away from your college building.

“i ate just before i left. had a cheeseburger. not the most edible thing i’ve ever had, but it worked.”

“if you’re hungry when we get there, i’ll take ya’ down to the kitchen and grab you somethin’ there. house mom might have some snacks for ya’ too.”

brows furrowed, you turn to look at him. “the fuck is a house mom?”

“older woman who works with the dancers, takes care of ‘em in between dances. she’ll have snacks, spare outfits or shoes, hygiene products. helps ‘em all like a mom would.”

“nice.” you nod your head, and soon you’re in the private parking lot for the club. joel gets out first, rounding to your side and opening the door up for you. “gotta love a southern gentleman.” you snicker, walking into the club behind him.

he walks up a set of marbled stairs, heading to the second floor. “you’ll be working in the v.i.p. lounge, ‘s where all the dancers are and most of our staff.”

the second floor of the club is lit with red led lights, creating a sultry atmosphere. there are private rooms scattered all around, but there are booths scattered in the middle. joel walks you down to a hidden room and opens the door.

“this is my office. you can put your shit in here.” you walk in and place your bag down on the cushioned sofa, taking a seat beside your belongings. “i’m here when i’m not in the booths doing business, but if anything happens out there, ya’ come and find me, alright?”

you nod your head at him.

“all v.i.p’s know dancers and staff aren’t to be touched, but you gotta promise you’ll come find me if that rule is broken.” after promising, he continues. “i’ll take you down to adele and see if she’s got any spare uniform for you. she’ll walk you through anything else.”

joel guides you down the haul with a hand on your lower back, and if there was a camera following you, you would’ve hand an office moment with this simple touch.

“momma!” joel yells, knocking on a pink door.

the door opens, and an african-american woman opens it. she looks at joel, then you, and embraces you in a tight hug. “welcome, baby. this the new girl we’ve been hearing about?”

“yes ma’am!” you answer before joel can, shooting him a shit-eating grin.

joel speaks your name, and your eyes meet his. “go inside while i talk to adele, she’ll be back to help you in a minute.”

as you step inside the room, you’re met with an abundance of dancers. some are singing, doing their hair and make up, zipping up their heels, and others are lay on sat around eating some snacks.

“hi guys!” you wave at everyone, and they all squeal when they see you, immediately asking questions.

you answer them as best as you can until adele comes in. “now, i gotta get her some heels and her uniform, and when i come back-” adele glances around the room, pointing at an east asian woman with pin straight black hair. “lucy, do her make up, just so she knows what the standard is. your hair is fine, baby, don’t need anyone touching that.”

lucy smiles and waves at you, and you return it as adele leads you into the changing rooms. “uniforms are simple. black shorts, black long sleeve, and…what size shoe are you, baby?”

you respond, and she goes over to a rack of black, leather heeled boots. they’re platformed, shiny, and you know your feet are going to hurt the second your shift is done. “and these. i’ll let you get changed and you just come straight out when you’re done. help yourself to some snacks as well.”

“i don’t have to pay you for them?”

adele chuckles. “no, baby. joel gives me the money to buy the snacks. anything for you girls, joel pays for.” and with that, she leaves the room.

you sigh, looking at the mirror in front of you. this was a new job, with a hot boss, and from what you could tell, the rest of the girls in there were lovely.

this was your life now.

____

a/n: first chapter mother fuckers let’s GOOOOO

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #mob!joel #mob boss!joel

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mangosrar · 3 months

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call it what you want pt5

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

y’all…….

“hurry up we’re gonna be late” matt yelled out the car window. watching as you stomped down your drive way towards the car.

you got in the passenger seat, slumping down and throwing your back in the back. matt glanced over at you as he started to drive away. he took note of the way your eyes looked a little darker and droopier than normal and your skin looked duller than usual.

“what’s up with you today? you look uglier than usual” he asked.

you just sighed, keeping your gaze fixed on the world going by out the window.

he glanced over at you again, waiting for you to bite back.

“damn, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” he laughed

“not today matt i’m not in the mood” you muttered, still not looking at him.

you closed your eyes for a second, preparing yourself for the insult that never came. sure matt was a douche bag but he was nice enough to not push you too far, and he knew you well enough to know when to stop.

you really just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. today was the 4 month anniversary of tours and elijahs breakup. it had completely knocked you off of your feet and it wasn’t even 9am. you weren’t sure why it was affecting you this much, but part of you knew it was the fact that you missed him deeply, you missed the way he always used to kiss the top of your head, the way he smelt. but you didn’t miss the way he used to lie to you, the way he manipulated and embarrassed you, and that was the only thing stopping you from letting this dark, cold feeling swallow you whole.

“i’ll pick you up before the game tomorrow” matt spoke, breaking the silence.

“i told you i’m not going” you snapped back at him.

“you can’t be serious y/n, jess went to all of my games you have to go” he said, raising his voice slightly.

“well then how about you ask jess to watch you instead of me” he kept his eyes trained on the road as you replied, turning to look at him with a sharp face.

“trust me if i could i would” he muttered.

“poor matt, jess won’t be there to kiss your boo boos when you get your ass beat at the game” you said, faking sadness.

“what like you used to do for Elijah?” matt said so quietly it was almost a whisper. he knew he struck a nerve, and honestly, he felt fucking horrible for what he had said.

there was a brief pause, you just stared at him with widened eyes, desperately trying to pull yourself together. even the sound of his name rolling off of matts tongue made your heart ache a little. matts jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the wheel, he didn’t even spare you a glance, keeping his eyes glued to the road ahead.

after a second of gawking at him, you swallowed and turned back around, once again staring out the window. you weren’t sure if it was the fact he was talking about elijah, or the fact that he knew what today was, that upset you more.

he knew and he still fucking said it, he knew how heartbroken you were when it ended, he knew what a terrible boyfriend he was to you, he knew just how bad Elijah claw marks were and he still said it.

and there wasn’t any way he could deny it, everyone saw how distraught you were when he left, even matt who hated your guts, had never mentioned anything about your ex boyfriend until this moment, so why was he doing it now?

the whole day had dragged. the second you arrived at school, you had leaped out of the car and headed as far away from matt as you could get. you couldn’t even stand the sight of him on a good day, let alone when he was throwing insults like that at you.

you had tried your very best to avoid seeing elijah all day, out of fear you might break down and start wailing in the middle of the hall, but to your demise, you had caught a glimpse of him coming out of his home room, laughing with his friends, he hadn’t even noticed you.

how was he not destroyed. you knew he probably didn’t even remember what today was.

“hey you okay?” nick whispered, nudging you.

you turned to him and nodded with a smile before turning to look at everyone else sitting around the table in their own conversation.

“you sure? you’ve been staring at the wall for almost 10 minutes” he spoke in a hushed voice, trying not to bring attention to the fact you were barely even there.

“yeah i’m just tired that’s all, english took it out of me” you said, breathing out a laugh through your nose while looking at him.

he didn’t even crack a smile, he just sighed and looked at you with a sad expression.

“i know what today is y/n” he paused, staring into your soul, “you don’t have to pretend your okay”. he brought his hand up to rest on you shoulder, giving it a small squeeze and nodding his head at you.

you just whispered a small “thankyou” and smiled at him before getting up and heading towards the bathroom. you just needed a moment to yourself, to recollect, a moment that no one could interrupt.

“y/n!” god no please spare me.

you kept on walking, desperately trying to get out of whatever situation he was about to put you in.

“i need to talk to you y/n don’t walk away from me”

“what elijah?!” you bawled. finally stopping and turning around to look at him as he walked towards you.

“matt sturniolo?” he questioned. you just rolled your eyes and looked away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. he didn’t even deserve a glance let alone the entertainment of this conversation.

“what have your parents said about this” and there it is.

“that’s none of your business eli” you snapped, still not looking at him.

he paused for a second, you could see him out the corner of your eye, studying your face.

“i mean this whole thing is a little suspicious, it’s only been what? 2 months since we broke up?” 4 months today actually. “and now you’re with this guy? was there something going on when we were together?” he too crossed his arms over his chest while leaning down towards you and squinting his eyes, condescending you.

you could see this coming from a mile off, he was always like this. he always tried to make you seem like a bad person just so his mishaps would be kept in the dark, it was just that now you could recognise it.

“i wasn’t the cheater elijah, you were.” you said, looking up and jabbing a finger at him.

he pulled back, letting his arms fall while laughing. what could possibly be funny to him?

suddenly it was like a flip had been switched, he had turned cold. he moved a step closer to you, before opening his mouth to speak.

“maybe if you weren’t so fucki-“

“hey baby”. if there was ever a moment that you were happy to see matt, it was this one.

he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his side, planting a kiss on your temple.

Elijah looked like someone had just slapped him straight across the face. his mouth was slightly agape, and eyes a little wide, staring at matt.

your whole body tensed and you sucked in a breath, patiently waiting for the ticking time bomb that was of matt sturniolo to go off.

matt kept his eyes trained on elijah, sending him a deathly glare. it was like they were wordlessly battling each-other, as you all stood there in complete silence, both of them having a death glare off and you, just frantically switching from watching one then the other, praying to god that this ends soon.

you couldn’t take the anticipation. you had to end whatever moment they were having and fast.

you placed your hand on matts chest and spoke up.

“you ready to go?”

“yeah” he replied instantly, not taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. matts face was stoic and cold, and if it wasn’t for a good cause it probably would have scared you a little.

just as you thought this was never going to end, you heard elijah scoff. you snapped your eyes to him as he began to walk away, but not before throwing you a disgusted look.

your body relaxed against matts, watching as he walked off and out of sight, letting out a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding.

matt switched his gaze to you once elijah was out of sight, giving you a nudge as if to say “you good”. you couldn’t look at him, you just blinked at the spot where elijah used to be, before pushing matt off and beginning to hurriedly walk away, holding a hand to your forehead.

you heard him shout after you, but turning around and answering all of matts questions was the last thing you needed, so as soon as the school doors were in sight, you may had well have sprinted at them.

why did matt look so angry at Elijah? you knew he was supposed to be your fake boyfriend but that wasn’t fake. he looked like he wanted to rip elijahs face off.

how is he so good at this whole fake thing? you had one question from your parents and you almost crumbled there and then. and here matt was, silently threatening your ex boyfriend like it was an average friday activity.

why was elijah speaking to you? why did he care? he wasnt even upset when you guys broke up so why kick up a fuss now. maybe he just wanted to upset you, or maybe he finally regrets what he did.

you’re mind was moving at 100 miles per hour. matt, elijah, the game, your parents. there was too much going on, but somehow your thoughts couldn’t move an inch without bumping in to matt, and it was making you dizzy.

——————————————————————————

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 1 year

Note

smut for carmen berzatto with “i don’t deserve you?” please and thank you xo

Carmen.

6. "You're my best friend." + 14. "I don't deserve you."

Author's Note - this is a drabble written as part of my 500 Followers Celebration!! find that post here if you're interested. combined 2 requests here - thank you sweet anons!! adore adore adore mr berzatto x

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - smut!! + cursing, angry carmen

Word Count - 950

Masterlist. 500 Follower Celebration Masterlist.

Admittedly, he's easier to overwhelm than he should be.

The smallest thing goes wrong, and all of a sudden he's spiralling. He panics, and he takes it out on whoever is closest.

Today is no different.

You're wiping down tables out front when you hear him yelling. He's cursing, screaming at his kitchen staff. He's got that sharp edge in his tone, so you know it must be bad.

You drop your cloth and stride towards the back of the restaurant, determined to see what all the fuss is about. You're met with the sight of 4 terrified chefs and Carmen, stood in the middle of the kitchen, shouting at Sydney.

"Are you incompetent, chef? Are you?"

Sydney doesn't often flinch, but even she looks scared this time. She doesn't answer, and it angers him further. He goes to insult her again, but your voice cuts through the room.

"Carmen!"

Everyone stops to look at you. You're notoriously calm, the most collected person in the establishment. If you're yelling, it must be serious.

Carmy locks eyes with you, and you see the immediate regret written all over his face.

"Okay, everyone go home," you demand. No one protests, all of them filing out silently. When they're gone, you speak again.

"What the hell was that?"

When he doesn't answer, you take a step closer to him.

"Carmen, you can't scream at your staff every time something goes wrong. If you're not careful, you're gonna end up running this place by yourself."

He's looking at you with his puppy dog eyes, running his hands through his hair repeatedly. You can see he's clearly struggling with something internally.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replies too quickly. "I'm fine."

"Carmen, you're my best friend. I've known you since elementary school - I can read you like a book," you laugh. "Just be honest with me. What's wrong?"

"I just -" he sighs, and starts again. "I think I'm doing all of this wrong."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm trying to do everything the way my brother did it, and it isn't working."

He leans back against the counter, stress plaguing his shoulders.

"You kind of just solved your own problem," you explain, stepping forward so you're practically standing in between his legs. "You're trying to do everything the way your brother did it. But you're not him. You're Carmen."

"No one calls me Carmen but you," he chuckles.

"That's because you're my Carmen. No one else's," you wink.

He smiles at you and your heart skips a beat.

You lean forward and press your forehead to his, exhaling when you feel the tension leave his muscles temporarily.

"I don't deserve you," he whispers.

You pull back and cradle his face in your hands, looking at him intently.

"Deserve or not, you have me," you reassure. "You have me. I'm not going anywhere."

Carmy surges forward and smashes his lips against yours. You gasp in shock, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, hands going to your hips to hold you to him.

This isn't the first time the two of you have kissed. In high school, you'd kiss at parties, occasionally makeout in his car, that one time after prom. But this is different. This kiss is charged.

You're tangling your fingers in his hair while he's grabbing at your ass, trying to pull you as close as he can. You break away for air and he kisses your neck, nipping and sucking as he goes.

"Not here, Carmen," you pant. "Office. Office, Carmen."

He picks you up around your middle and carries you, laughing when you squeal loudly, kicking your feet. As soon as you're through the office door, he's crowding you against the wall, desperately attempting to get your chefs jacket off. His fingers are shaking with want, and he's struggling with the buttons.

"Forget about me," you mutter against this lips. "This is about you. Call it stress relief."

You wink before dropping to your knees in front of him. He throws his head back at the sight, overwhelmed.

You untie his trousers and pull them down, pulling him out of his underwear. He's hot and hard and heavy in your hand, and you're realising you've thought about this more times than you'd care to admit.

"Let me take care of you, Carmen," you whisper, before taking him in your mouth.

You set a steady pace, head bobbing and hand moving in tandem. He's groaning, practically writhing, clearly trying not to move his hips.

"Don't hold back on me now," you say sternly, looking up at him with tear stained cheeks. He thinks you've never looked prettier.

"I don't - are you sure? I just - I need to -"

You cut him off by taking him back in your mouth, one hand gripping at the flesh of his thigh. He slowly starts to move his hips, gently and carefully. After a while, he learns your limits, and begins to thrust a little harder.

"Yeah, baby - fuck," he groans. "Just like that. Shit-"

You can tell he's close when his hips begin to stutter. One of his hands moves to grip your hair, and you moan when he tugs. The vibrations of the sound are his undoing, and he spills into your mouth, shuddering and groaning.

"Fuck, I don't deserve you," he mutters, pulling you up so he can slip his tongue past your lips to taste himself.

"Deserve or not, you have me," you echo from earlier. He laughs, and it's like you can see the tension melting from his body.

"My Carmen," you whisper against his lips. "My Carmen."

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cupid-styles · 6 months

Text

mates

in which harry is a frat boy alpha, y/n is a sleepy omega, and some weird feelings occur.

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: abo dynamics, frat!harry

masterlist | talk to me

fall/halloween blurb masterlist

. . .

Y/N feels stupid.

Unfortunately, it's not because of the whole matching Playboy bunny costume charade her friends wrangled her into to. She does feel ridiculous standing in the middle of a party in glorified lingerie, getting drooled over by the frat boy alphas that apparently own this house (Y/N would have never agreed to this if she knew this is where they were spending Halloween night. It makes her feel like the perfect embodiment of an omega, and that in turn makes her uncomfortable).

Her friends are all but licking up their praise, flirting and batting their eyelashes at them, and that's fine — really, she's been there before, where she's just wanted some random alpha to stick his dick in her and call it a night — but she's feeling... weird, and she can't quite explain why.

With her drink in hand, Y/N quietly removes herself from the kitchen, Lea and Paige too tipsy and occupied with whatever-their-names-are to care. She meanders through the rooms of the party, passing by the smokers lounge that's clouded with thick smoke, followed by the makeout room that's oddly reminiscent of a middle school party, and then, finally, a bit of quiet.

She finds herself in a long hallway with doors on either side, and she assumes this is where the bedrooms are. She's not naive enough to jiggle the doorknobs to look for an empty room (besides, there probably aren't any), so she just slides down against the length of the wall, sitting down on the gross carpeted floor. A long sigh leaves her mouth as she closes her eyes; an attempt to ground herself and figure out why she's feeling this way.

And even without her wandering eyes, she smells him before she knows he's there. The weird primal part of her that she never quite understood is suddenly awake, threatening to claw out of her body and take over her normally subdued persona. So she peeks an eye open to see him standing over her — towering, really, and it's slightly intimidating — all long, curly brown hair and an oversized leather jacket thrown over his shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

She realizes what this looks like; a Playboy bunny sitting alone in an uncharted part of a Halloween party, red solo cup in hand, and figures he's probably concerned she's going to puke on the carpet at any point.

"I'm fine," she answers, clearing her throat as she stands from her spot, swaying slightly from the platform heels Lea convinced her to wear, "My friends ditched me. Well, actually, I ditched them 'cos they're up some alpha's asses and I didn't wanna deal with all that. Sorry."

In any other instance, she'd turn on her heel and walk away. Standing in the middle of an empty hallway with a man she's never met before at a party sounds like a recipe for disaster, and she doesn't even have her pepper spray on her (there wasn't any room in this stupid black satin bodysuit). Instead, there's something in her body that's causing her feet to stay firmly planted in their spot.

"Oh. Those are probably my friends, so I'm sorry about that." He replies, and Y/N's eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh fuck, I'm such an idiot," she clasps her hand around her forehead in embarrassment, "You're part of this frat, aren't you? And those are like your brothers, or whatever?"

He chuckles, a lopsided grin wiggling its way onto his face, and it makes her nerves calm some.

"Yeah, I am. It's fine, though. They're dumbasses, I don't mind you insulting thousands of years of brotherhood straight to my face."

She can tell he's teasing based on his body language; the way he's leaning his shoulder against the wall now and his eyes are slightly squinted, his lips upturned in a mocking smile.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I just didn't realize this is where we'd be tonight and I would've mentally prepared myself more. And maybe worn pants."

His eyes wander down the length of her legs, zeroing in on the fishnets covering her skin and the chunky heels on her feet. She warms under his gaze as he makes his way up to her head, pointing to the floppy bunny ears tucked into her hair.

"Where's your Hugh Hefner, then?"

"Didn't you hear? He was a total perv."

"Ah, you speak ill of the dead, too?"

Y/N huffs as he grins, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"I'm Harry," he says when she doesn't reply, then points to the door they're standing in front of, "And you're actually blocking my bedroom."

"You should've led with that!" Y/N exclaims, stepping away from the door, sweat prickling at her armpits when he lets out an amused cackle. "God, instead you just entertained yourself with talking to the weird half-naked omega in front of it!"

He's still laughing as he takes out a key from his jeans to unlock the door, walking inside. She figures that's it — in classic university fashion, a one-off interaction with someone at a party that she'll never speak to again — but instead, Harry peeks back out from his bedroom with furrowed eyebrows.

"Aren't you coming in? I have sweats you can borrow if you want."

And again, everything about this situation is so unlike Y/N, but she doesn't even allow her brain to contemplate it as her feet automatically carry her inside. The second he closes the door behind them, she's overwhelmed with the most comforting, musky and warm scent she's ever smelled, her eyes nearly fluttering shut at the way it wraps around her, akin to a tender, tight embrace.

Harry occupies himself with digging in his dresser, pulling out a pair of gray joggers and handing them to her.

"Why are you doing this?" she suddenly asks, gently placing her cup on his nightstand before shimmying the sweatpants up and over her bottom, "You don't even know me and you're being so nice to me."

He shrugs. "Do you want the real answer or some bullshit alpha frat boy answer?"

She scoffs at that, "You tell me."

She's anticipating an equally sarcastic answer (it seems to be that that's their dynamic), but instead he rolls his lips into his mouth, a look of contemplation on his face.

"I don't wanna get all... weird and primal on you since we literally just met, but I, um... smelled you. Your scent. I was down in the basement but I knew there was someone standing outside my door and I, uh... I knew I needed to come see you."

Y/N wrinkles her nose. "I was feeling really weird before I came up here. I couldn't really figure out what it was."

"Did you... like, did you feel particularly drawn to this room?" he asks, pushing his bottom lip together between his fingers.

"Yeah, actually."

"And... can I ask, did you feel any less weird when you came in, maybe?"

She thinks for a moment. "I... actually felt better when you showed up."

"Huh."

They're quiet then, each in their own cycle of thinking as they process what they've just revealed to one another. They're strangers, and yet— yet, they both know what this means.

"Do you think...?"

Y/N snaps her head up with parted lips, slightly surprised that he's bringing up the obvious. She sighs — she never really bought into the whole binding mate thing, and even though she presented as an omega as an early teen, she doesn't think those labels mean much. Yeah, she experiences heats and the pesky biological traits of it all, but she's never spent much time daydreaming about the perfect alpha that'll bite her neck and knot her, filling her up and breeding her until she can't even remember her own name.

But that was before she met Harry.

Now, Harry's sitting in front of her and she realizes she's never felt so calm before, a sense of belonging enveloping her every cell... and well, it's kind of difficult to ignore.

(It's also hard to pretend like the omega tendencies deep in her body — like the way her core is wound up tight, all but begging Harry to fuck his knot into her — didn't just turn on the second they made eye contact.)

"I think it could be a possibility." She finally admits, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hey, don't stress over this," Harry replies with concerned eyes, "It's no big deal. There's no pressure to figure anything out right now."

"I've never really believed in this before. So, it's kind of weird to be... possibly experiencing it."

He nods understandingly as she sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. They both keep their gazes low, the only audible sound the low thumping bass of the music blasting downstairs.

"Do you feel anything?" she asks, turning her head to look at him. "Like, between us?"

He clears his throat. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, because his honest answer is something along the lines of, yes, and I actually can't stand to look at your neck because all I want to do is bite it and give you a pretty little mark to wear for the rest of your life.

"I think so," he settles, "I do feel... some physical attraction, yeah."

"Are you just saying that because you're trying to get laid on Halloween?"

Harry scoffs and bumps his shoulder against hers, a giggle sounding from her lips.

"You're an absolute menace, y'know that?" he teases with a shake of his head, "I hope you aren't my mate, 'cos if I have to put up with this, I might have to toss myself out the window."

She cackles loudly, "Oh, and you're any better? You're dressed as a greaser for Halloween! That's the least original costume ever!"

"You're a Playboy bunny!"

They both erupt into laughs, a thankful and necessary break in the seriousness of the situation. When their giggling does finally die down, Y/N swallows, her heart speeding up slightly as she turns her body to face his.

"Can we at least... try something?" she asks softly, and Harry doesn't even need to think before he's already nodding his head. She leans in and he meets her halfway, quiet and nervous breaths ghosting over each other's lips as their mouths meet, plush and sweet and — Y/N really, truly hates to be so cliche, but it's true — it feels so right, that it's like her body chemistry is morphing into something more as they kiss.

It's meant to be a quick and soft peck, but neither of them want to part as their lips move against one another's, Harry hesitantly reaching out to press his hand against her cheek. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, tugging her body closer to his until she's almost in his lap. They're slightly disappointed when they realize they need to break for air, Y/N's eyes blinking open to take in the man sitting there, watching her with a knowing look.

"Yeah," she says, and he nods. "Yeah, this is..."

She doesn't need to say it because they both already know — it's the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, a greater one, because it turns out mates do exist, and sometimes they appear in the form of a Playboy bunny sitting outside your frat house bedroom.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #one direction

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gyueumz · 1 month

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fate.

abt sunghoon x fem!reader fluff bsf’s brother au cw none wc 1090 a/n sorry for being ia ! school is kicking my ass TT

what’s worse than having a normal crush is having a crush on your best friend's brother, sunghoon. he’s not any typical brother; he's the younger brother who doesn't talk to anyone besides his friends and family. the younger brother, who only has one face for every emotion. he’s the younger brother who's the eldest among his friends.

it’s even worse when he goes to your school. fate loves to be a hater and decided that you two should see each other everywhere, whether he's behind you in line at the cafeteria or walking the same hall after your drama class and his gym class. wherever you are, sunghoon is there. some people would think it's a blessing to be around their crush all the time, and it is. it’s also a curse, as instead of greeting him, you find yourself running as far away as possible from him.

the idea of your best friend finding out isn't the reason you're running away. in fact, you even told her you liked him, and she didn't seem to care at all. all she did was laugh. she finds it hilarious how he's gullible and you're here trying to keep yourself from running away when he's around, especially when you're at her house. from sitting next to you on the couch for a movie night to grabbing a cup from the cabinet in the kitchen where you're eating, you'd expect her to glare at you, but she only tries to hold her laughter in.

you don't know why you can't function when he's around every time. is it because he smells like pencil shaving all the time, his glasses suit his face shape, or he wears that umber leather jacket over his uniform every day? it’s weird since you complain all the time that you miss him, but when you do see him, you're suddenly meters away from his presence. you hate the idea of talking to him, but at the same time, you love talking about him with your friends. when your friends insult him, like his haircut or the fact that he's part of the chess club, your mouth starts talking back as if you were a lawyer defending their client.

the one question that makes everyone you know intrigued is: how come you've never had at least one interaction with him?

‘i saw sunghoon in the hallway first thing in the morning.’ you write on the sticky note, passing it to your friend in the middle of your drama class. your teacher has been too busy blabbering about her life in acting school for the past hour. you look up at the clock; it's five before the bell rings. some of your classmates are doing work, and others are on their phones. no one seems to be listening to her at all; they're all waiting for the bell.

yeojin passes a sticky note to you. 'what did you do?’ she stared at you as you retold her what happened with your fingers. you tried to tell her that you walked past him, but she didn't understand your gestures. "what?" she mouths. you lean close enough so she can hear your whispers.

"i walked past him," you whisper lowly so the teacher wouldn't notice but loud enough for yeojin to hear. she covers her mouth, restraining herself from bursting into laughter. as the bell rings, your teacher mentions a project due in a few days while you get ready to leave.

the performing arts department is in a long, separate hallway away from regular classes. in that hallway is also the gym, where sunghoon finishes his class. the hallway is tiring for you and yeojin, but all you want to do is get to your next class without having to see sunghoon. yeojin leaves you for her class, which is the one near the exit of the hall. you’re here, walking alone to the end of the hall.

sometimes it takes you two minutes to get to your class or more, depending on the number of people. as you go through multiple people squished like sardines in a can and make your way to the end of the hall, you halt, hearing your name and an unfamiliar voice.

"oh, y/n, you dropped this," sunghoon says as you look behind. he picks up a notebook from the floor and hands it to you. you’re frozen and silent, and he simply smiles at you and leaves. you run to your next class and sit down in your seat as you contemplate.

many things are happening at once—things that you found impossible.

he says your name and gives you your journal, the one place where you talk about him, then proceeds to smile at you. it sounds impossible, but it did indeed happen. but what's really important is that he spoke to you.

you haven't seen sunghoon since that interaction. you don't see him in the hallways at school or in the living room at their house.

whenever eunha calls him down for dinner, he'll just stay silent or respond that he's busy. when he did come out of his room, it was only to return your journal. your best friend accidentally gave him your journal when he asked her to get his notebook.

it was a simple mistake; he didn't mean to look inside. the outside looked like his, but the inside was totally different. when he opened a random page, he noticed how his notes were colourful, his handwriting was curvier than it should be, and the words were the total opposite of physics. he put his glasses on and immediately closed the book as he read the first sentence.

‘i miss sunghoon.’ he quickly pushes the book off his table and backs away from it. he’s shocked in many ways. those words are playing in his head on repeat. all he can imagine is your voice saying those words. he wants to know what else you say about him, but it's wrong; it's your privacy. he approaches the book but is wary of picking it up. his hands are trembling the more he moves closer, until the pads of his fingers touch the leather cover.

he leaves his room with the journal in his hand. his eyes meet with yours as he enters the living room, places your journal down on the coffee table, and grabs his. you quickly grabbed your journal and sat on it as he asked you a question before he walked out.

"are you busy this friday?"

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dekusleftsock · 2 months

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HMMNGGGSHSHHSHD IM SO LATE TO THIS BUT THERES SO MANY THINGS IVE WANTED TO SAY FOR SO LONG AND IVE JUST BEEN TOO DEPRESSED OR BUSY TO DO IT

I did just re-read the chapter, hazbin/helluva hyperfixation is gone y’all I’m back and ready for more.

Okay so, a couple of things I noticed. Let’s start there.

Throughout this chapter, it really is heartbreaking to see how Izuku regards one for all as Allmight’s power, and therefore a disrespect to him to give that away. Which is quite frankly insane given the nature of what the power is, but regardless it still shows me just how deeply he still cares for and admires allmight.

It also makes the transfer Izuku makes to Katsuki in the heroes rising movie all the more intimate; izuku wouldn’t just give the power to anyone, if not for himself (which is also clearly due to that fact since he still sees ofa as the thing that makes him a hero, not his characteristics), then simply out of respect for allmight and his legacy.

It’s just the anger you can see, feel in those words as he demands to know why. I’ve personally been in the boat of “Izuku dislikes Kudou immensely bc he hasn’t proven to be heroic and amazing like Katsuki has, and also he insults him a lot why would he like him”, since Izuku does genuinely have self respect (a common mischaracterization imo), he’s just also more forgiving and faithful to those he admires or loves (or both).

SPEAKING OF SELF RESPECT AND MISCHARACTERIZATION!

I want to highlight the words “But even so, this boy refuses to throw in the towel”, bc it’s such an important part of Izuku and his character.

He isn’t overly self sacrificial, he isn’t a masochist, he isn’t even a martyr—especially not a martyr.

Izuku is stubborn. That is not the same thing as wanting to constantly die for others; izuku is like Katsuki, he wants to fight for others. Giving up just simply isn’t in his morality.

And if “giving up” also includes letting someone die or failing to save someone out of his own negligence, that’s not because he wants to die.

I can’t explain how much the interpretation that Izuku wanting to die, even for others, is so fucking out of character. Izuku is stubborn, he’s stubborn in the way that he won’t just fall over and let the ground take him. Given the circumstances, Izuku would fight for his life just as he would fight for another.

THIS HAS BEEN THE CASE SINCE, I DONT KNOW, CHAPTER FUCKING ONE?

“Idiot! If I’d really jumped, you’d be charged with bullying me into suicide!! Think before you speak!!”

“Idiot…”

Like he’s so unaffected by the awful comment outside of being angry at the DISRESPECT of said comment. This is why all those damn suicidal Izuku fics have always felt so ooc. Izuku isnt a moody, brooding ball of depression, he’s a stubborn, courageous, and angry ball of depression. There is a difference.

Even before this, he literally attempts to say something or fight back to Katsuki, honestly it looks like he’s about to punch him here.

The only reason he DOESNT is bc HE DOESNT WANT TO GET HIS ASS BEAT

Btw for anyone who has or ever will be in Izuku’s position, punch him. I love Katsuki But hit him in the fucking gut. If you get your ass beat at least you can say you can took it like a champ.

Speaking from someone who regrets not punching three girls who were trying to gang up on me in middle school🫶🫶🫶

Anyway, I’d argue that Izuku not taking Katsuki in a fight was made out of self preservation, something he very much has.

And last but not least, we get to this lovely fucking page.

First of all…

Hm, ain’t that strange?

I’m not saying it’s fully a parallel, I’m just saying it’s something to consider.

Especially with the context that I don’t think Izuku feels shameful here.

He’s been a hero who didn’t look like one once before, I’m sure a snide comment through Shigaraki is nothing in comparison to the literal hundreds of civilians afraid of him.

Or, even more interestingly, what if he’s shameful of it, and okay with that? Now THATS some control over your emotions. This is demonstrating the very thing Banjo told him in the first place; using his emotions to fuel him. Let himself live with them, breath with them. They exist, and they hurt, and that’s fucking okay.

But it begs the question…. Why bring attention to it?

Clearly horikoshi WANTS you to see that Izuku is the one who looks like the monster now. He even looks devil like, blackwhip coming out of his back the way it is just feels like wings.

But maybe… maybe this is how he stops sweeping problems under the rug. Maybe this is him, Izuku, at his most animalistic form. Him. At his core. This is the Izuku he doesn’t want people to know.

The faceless, long clawed, oozing black monster.

He’s a kid who can take a fucking beating. He’s not Deku the useless doll, nor is he Deku the hero. He’s simply Izuku.

And you know what’s even more likely?

The black pit of anger that Shigaraki has formed, fueling his uncontrolled emotions and anger and despair, with the light tear showing something underneath…

What if, this was Izuku’s black ball of anger and shame, except this one is escaping his body, pouring out and showing all of that for what it truly is. Pent up rage, uncontrolled emotion, anxiety and shame, all mixed into one hell hole of a person—but a ball that can be molded, controlled, torn apart from the inside out.

See, the same way Kudou tears at Shigaraki’s mental breaking to see what’s underneath, so have the ofa users for Izuku. Slowly, but surely, the people in Izuku’s life have, while created that ball in the first place, also worked to destroy it. The final piece of the puzzle is for Izuku to choose to let it happen, and he is.

Learning to sit in one’s fear, doubt, hatred, anger, sadness, grief, happiness—without that emotion having to be something, simply something that flows through you, that you can choose to act on or not; this is where Izuku’s arc is coming to its tipping point. We are nearing the climax, I can feel it.

#bkdk #midoriya izuku #mha deku #bkdk brainrot #bakudeku #bnha deku #bakugou katsuki #mha analysis #deku midoriya #IM FUCKING BAXK BITCHES #I’ve been trying to write this for. not joking. two weeks.#like I have three different versions of this meta that I scrapped completely #they all have their own cool ideas tho so maybe I’ll come back to those #have a good fucking night and happy Valentine’s Day!!!!!!!

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deadgxrlsuperstar · 9 months

Text

Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki x Wife Fem!Reader Headcanons.

Tags: Established relationship, both are pro hero's, fluff, dash of angst, NSFW later on, Swearing, Praise, M!masturbation, F!masturbation, Cockwarming, Spanking, Mask Kink, Oral (F and M receiving and giving)

SFW:

- Katsuki would be the best and most loyal husband ever fr, any attention he gets from other women or fangirls he immediately shuts down with a simple "fuck off I'm married".

- He definitely cooks for you even though you are capable enough in the kitchen it's always "not as good as my cooking"

- He would keep any pictures of you from magazine or advert shoots in his office because "you look hot babe"

- Katsuki would spoil you with extravagant holidays, gifts, jewellery, clothes etc (even though you can pay for yourself) and he would definitely secretly enjoy taking you shopping and picking out items for you.

- You guys never left the honeymoon phase really, things definitely slowed down after a couple of years due to work but the passion is still there and you both can't keep yours hands to yourselves.

- You both support each other after a failed or particularly devastating mission by cuddling and crying into each other.

- Both your lockscreens are pictures of each other taken during one of your exotic holidays.

- Katsuki and you hates it when the press pry to much into your personal lives with awkward or down right insulting questions.

- You collaborate with Katsuki a lot during sponsorships as either of you don't want to be paired with any other Pro Hero or influencer

- Katsuki VERY occasionally does instagram lives (due to pressure from his team) whenever you come across it you read out any disrespectful comments and completely destroy them with insults.

- The Bakusquad tease you guys at lot in being complete simps for each other.

- Expect a lot of random hugs and kisses from behind you from Katsuki, he loves how he feels as if he is protecting you and how soft you feel in his arms.

- If Katsuki or you are late back from patrol, the other one would stay up late waiting...which means on more than one occasion one of you have come home to the other sleeping on the sofa.

- Katsuki MELTS whenever you laugh at one of his jokes, he feels like a awkward love struck middle school kid inside.

- You both flip of paparazzi together, almost every shot has you guys giving the annoying fucks the finger.

- If anyone flirts with you, Katsuki WILL try and fight them.

- He once came home to find you trying on his hero costume and he got completely flustered at the sight.

- He often has panic attacks about losing you and it often keeps him awake, shaking non stop.

- You often feel like you aren't good enough for him and you have cried to him about "finding someone in your league" and "you deserve a supermodel for a wife instead of me"

NSFW:

- Katsuki often wears his hero mask when fucking you in missionary because he know you go crazy for it.

- He LOVES eating you out and always gets hard while doing it.

- He also loves it when you give him blowjobs and seeing your eyeliner run down your cheeks as you choke on his dick, how he prefers giving than receiving.

- Quickies in His office 100%

- Katsuki loves it when you are on top of him, riding him relentlessly..watching you go up and down on him.

- He enjoys lightly spanking you whenever you bend over and seeing your ass giggle.

- You love it when he grinds against you and get each other off while still clothed and seeing the damp patch on his sweats driving him insane with lust.

- Katsuki likes it when you cockwarm him at work while he is doing paperwork in his office, only to bounce you up and down after a while so you feel good too.

- YALL PRAISE EACHOTHER SO MUCH. he doesn't like degrading you at all because he thinks of you to be above "all the extras"

-Lowkey likes it when you call him a good boy.

- You both have had your fair share of steamy moments in your bathtub.

- He has a tounge peircing ;)

- He won't actually go inside of you until you've came once.

- When you argue it often leads to a make up hatefuck.

- He loves it when you take your time to kiss all over his body, especially his neck, nipples and scars while saying how great and handsome he is.

"He will leave hickeys in somewhat obvious places to remind the rest of the world that he is loyal to only you.

- Loves the feeling of your Thighs pressing against his head.

- KING of after care and foreplay.

- secretly likes it when you tease him with his Hero name Dynamight during sex.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader #x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha #katsuki bakugo #mha bakugou #Spotify

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imrllytootiredforthis · 10 months

Note

More on sub bully yandere pretty plz 🥺🙏

i'm gonna do gyu again just bc sub bully=beomgyu (kinda a part two to this)

afterwards he just gets meaner and meaner. for a multitude of reasons-

one being that you humiliated him in front of the entire school, and now he needs to get back at you,

and the other being that he's head over fucking heels in love with you now and has zero idea how to talk to a crush other than bullying them

so he continues to fight with you. threaten you, insult you, release compromising photos of you taken by his own hand (which he also uses on lonely pent up nights)

he's an asshole. who doesn't know when to quit.

you don't exactly make it easy for him though.

every time he's harassing you, you're there with a blank face, arms crossed. giving nothing away, and taking every ounce of satisfaction away from him. knowing entirely that if his group of friends weren't standing there backing him up you could do whatever you wanted to him-and he'd let you.

but you don't.

because unlike him, you pride yourself of being a decent human being.

that somehow just makes him angrier though. makes him try harder to piss you off.

spilling your food all over your clothing, laughing as he lets out an "oops, sorry, i didn't mean to." all while cackling with his friends.

egging your car and writing on it with spray paint, causing damage he knows you don't have the money to fix.

he wants you to be angry. he wants you to be so pissed at him, at everything he's done to you that you just can't hold it in anymore. he wants you to finally snap and grab him by the neck. kiss him until he's breathless and dumb (his very first kiss) and then fuck him to oblivion and back (his very first fuck).

beomgyu wants you to put him in his place, unlike so many other people in his life that don't care as he walks all over them.

and it only takes a single thing for you to snap.

him loudly talking to you in the middle of class, taunting the fact that you somehow got a lower mark than him. leaning across the isle to get up into your face, smirking his dumb smirk.

you simply ignore him, preferring not to add to the scene until the teacher zeroes in on the two of you, looking unimpressed as she sends the both of you to detention.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! what the hell is wrong with you?"

nothing. he only smiles back sweetly.

"i have shit that i need to do, places i have to be! records that i need to keep! i don't need to spend my time in detention with your sorry ass!"

nothing.

"you're so annoying, you hear me?"

infuriating fucking prick. absolutely nothing.

"a fucking brat who doesn't know how to man up and be a normal person. instead you're acting like a pussy, too scared to ask me out hmm? a pathetic loser virgin."

something.

his cheeks are flushed red, his face so close your noses are practically touching, his hands gripping onto the desk.

"yeah, is that what you are? a brat and a pathetic loser virgin?"

your hands on either side of his shoulders against the chair, trapping him in place. he's painfully hard in the confines of his pants.

the room around is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. the teacher had left awhile ago, not that she was supposed to, she just did and told you guys to behave.

the detention class was completely silent now. just the sound of your heavy breathing, his shallow pants and his heart beating so fast it seems as if it's about to leap out of his chest.

"say it."

his mouth feels dry, his body feels hot.

"say that you're a pathetic loser virgin and then maybe i'll take care of that for you, okay?"

his eyebrows knot together as you press a hand against him, biting his lip to hold back a moan. "i-..."

you nod, prompting him to continue.

"i'm a...pathetic virgin loser!" his eyes squeeze shut as he breathes it out, whining lowly under his breath. "i'm sorry! all i wanted was your attention!"

when he opens his eyes again, you're smiling.

"okay then. you have my attention now." you sit back against your own chair again. "come here."

he begins to stand up. "on your knees, beomgyu." face burning in shame, dick throbbing with humiliation, he shuffles towards you on his hands and knees until he sits between your legs.

"good boy." he shivers. "now, if you wanna take care of that, you're going to have to get off on my leg."

he looks at you as if you've grown a second head, as if you're crazy. he searches your face for any sign that you might be joking. "go on you mutt."

#inbox💌#sorry this is kinda shit #i'm pretty braindead at the moment #and have zero inspiration to write rn #hard thoughts #dom reader #sub txt #txt smut #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x reader #sub choi beomgyu #sub beomgyu #sub! txt #sub kpop #sub!kpop

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kiyoomi-levin · 4 months

Text

No Sense (Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader)

summary::: sakusa has never encountered a clean object, much less a clean human being. so why is it that you, the first-year new manager of Itachiyama's volleyball club is? word count::: 3.4k music rec::: love 119 - riize warning?::: sakusa's kind of an ass & can't communicate

This really isn't like him. It really isn't like the one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi to find someone attractive at first sight. More alarmingly, it really isn’t like him to find someone clean.

He's always known he was different. While other kids chased each other and rolled around the dirt pavement of the playground, Sakusa refused to step into the sandbox or touch the playset. It was disgusting. Couldn't they see? It was only when he entered elementary school that he learned he was the only one with this ability: being able to physically see germs.

The dirtier something was--and unfortunately, most things in this universe are really fucking dirty-- the darker the glow around them became. The subway seats, the door handle to his classroom, the reusable utensils from restaurants were all surrounded by darkness, so dark he felt sick. His backpack, the clock hanging above the chalkboard, and Motoya Komori, his closest friend and cousin, all classified as semi-dirty, with a light gray surrounding them. In his life, he's only seen two things without a ring of germs. His body after a nice, long, 40 minute shower and… you.

It doesn't make sense. Even newly bought scissors still inside their packaging are slightly dirty (from being exposed to the particles of the factory they're from, duh). So why? Why is it that a random first-year didn't have that dark glow around her? New people (whose hygiene habits were a mystery) were always especially dirty, surrounded by a shadow composed of gray and black.

It just doesn't make sense.

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

"Hey, they're introducing the new manager today!" Ito Asahi, the 2nd-year outsider hitter, calls out as Sakusa and Komori walks in.

Sakusa takes a glance around the gym. Today, it’s especially clean, uplifting his sour mood from being touched intentionally by some girl from class 2-B. Komori notices and smiles playfully.

"Looks like you can forgive and forget Nakamura now, right?" He murmurs.

"Who?"

Komori sighs, feeling sorry for the short-haired girl in love with his brainless cousin.

"Never mind."

"We're welcoming our new manager. She just transferred," Iizuna, Itachiyama’s captain, says as he rolls out the volleyball cart from the closet.

"Be nice,” he says, glaring at the club’s center.

Sakusa frowns under his mask, forehead wrinkling.

"You're the reason why Azuma-san quit. I'll be watching you."

Sakusa grimaces harder. Nothing escapes Iizuna's line of sight, unfortunately. It pays off during matches, but outside the court it’s nothing but a hindrance.

Besides, it wasn't his fault that the grubby-handed manager had repeatedly mixed his jersey with everyone else's, loaned his water bottle to the new first-year players, and, worst of all, used his phone to make a call.

The final straw was when the 3rd-year girl had handed him a used towel. Less than 30 seconds after the exchange, Sakusa had her pressed against the wall and whispered some not-so-kind, germ related insults that led to her filing for her retirement the next morning.

"Who is it?" Komori asks, flopping onto the floor and beginning his stretches. Iizuna grins, rolling a ball in his hands. Iizuna knew you well as a distant family friend, and knows you'll fit in well.

"She's a first-year with a ton of experience as the former manager of Ushimi Middle School," Haga, the backup setter, cuts in, leaning over to help Komori reach his toes.

Iizuna’s response fades out as Sakusa's mental encyclopedia goes to work.

"Ushimi Middle. Bokuto Kotaro," He says, taking off his mask. Haga smirks, knowing the wing spiker had memorized the magazine introducing the top Japanese high school players.

"Yeah, she's close with Bokuto. They apparently dated," Hirota chimes in, emerging from the stands. Hirota, never one to shy away from gossip, watches as Sakusa raises his eyebrows.

Disgusting. You dated that energetic, owl-freak who looks like someone who doesn't wash their hands after eating? You must be at his level of contamination. Internally groaning, Sakusa can only hope you'd wear gloves around him.

"Relax," Komori says, “we don’t know if that’s true.”

"That means she likes older guys, huh... think I have a chance?" Asahi says, promptly being slapped on the back of the head by Iizuna.

"Group up!" A shout from their coach, Hirata-sensei, gets the boys to line up in three rows. Aces and third years at the front, first years at the back. Iizuna walks next to the coach, holding a new manager jacket.

It's silent for a moment, and the door swings open as Sakusa picks at his thin cotton shirt. Why is there lint on it? He should get a new lint roller, this brand wasn't cutting it. And switching detergent brands was also a mistake, this new one makes his skin itch…

The first years begin murmuring behind him.

Sakusa refuses to look up, though. He's not ready to see the grime surrounding you.

"Hello," a voice calls out. "I'm l/n y/n. I'm a first year, and I transferred this semester. I previously was manager of Ushimi Middle. I'll try my best... If you have any concerns or special requests, please don't be shy to talk to me."

Cheers, and Sakusa hears Iizuna welcoming you and passing you the jacket. Coach suddenly calls him out.

"This is Sakusa Kiyoomi, our ace. Be wary as you approach him and his belongings."

Sakusa looks up to glare at his coach and the newbie.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times just in case.

You're clean. Clean. There's no ring of germs floating around you. It's what he sees after getting out of the shower. It's not possible.

"Kiyoomi?" Coach says. Sakusa blinks. What?

"Uh. I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi." He hears his teammates behind him whispering and giggling, no doubt misunderstanding his shock.

You smile, and he feels his gut twisting.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sakusa. I look forward to working with you! I'll take care of your things."

You're kind of cute. He doesn't know how else to describe you, he's never examined a girl. He's seen many girls in his life, more than a dozen have approached him in just this past year-- all quickly rebuked. He's not a virgin (thinking about his past experiences makes him gag), but something makes him feel like a shy boy experiencing his first love.

Your eyes are bright and your smile is almost blinding. When has he gotten so cheesy?

As coach introduces the other aces, Sakusa can't take his eyes off of you as you giggle at Komori's stupid introduction (he suddenly feels a surge of anger towards his innocent cousin).

It doesn't make sense.

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

It's been almost a month since you've begun your duties as manager, and it's going great! You couldn't have asked for a better group of players.

And yet, despite the easy-going attitude of the overall team, one thing (yes, he doesn't even qualify as a human) always messes with you.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

The only student who you were not able to warm up to. Everyone else on the team was incredibly friendly, requesting you call them by their first names. Tsukasa takes good care of you, Motoya purchases the always-sold-out cafeteria sandwiches for you, and Asahi helps you prepare for exams. But Sakusa refuses to even look your way and snaps when you touch his towel or water bottle (even with the disposable gloves you purchased at the mini-mart).

It hurts, being shunned by someone who you admire so much. You've known about him and his skills since middle school, and when you were accepted into Itachiyama, you were thrilled at the prospect of supporting someone so dedicated to his passion. But this player (who you curse internally) glares at you, watching as you head towards the benches.

I won't touch your stuff, relax, you think to yourself as you pick up Haga's bag. What more could you do? You've tried different methods to approach him, washing your hands more often than usual, using hand sanitizer as you approach him, and even changing your shampoo and body wash to a brand he prefers (thanks to Motoya’s intel).

And yet, he still stares at you like you’re a freak.

“Hey, be careful.” You jump as Sakusa presses up behind you, staring at his sports tape in your gloved hand. You frown. For a germaphobe who despises you, he sure gets close sometimes.

“I am!” You snap, and despite your anger, you gently place the tape into his bag. With that, you turn away quickly, running off to refill his water.

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

“Yeah, you’re an asshole.” Komori says, sighing. “You’re acting like a fucking first grader, Kiyoomi, one of those kids who teases the girl they like.”

Sakusa nearly drops his sandwich.

Really? Is that how he comes across?

“Is it obvious?”

Komori’s mouth drops. He had simply been teasing. Who had replaced his cold and calculated cousin with this honest and socially-conscious Kiyoomi?

“Wait, really? You really like her?” Komori leans in.

Ugh. Sakusa pulls away quickly, packing up his belongings as the bell rings.

No. He’s just interested in why you’re clean.

That’s the only reason.

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

“y/n!” Sakusa barks. You flinch. He’s in an especially prickly mood thanks to the upcoming practice match with Nekoma.

Without hesitation, you begin to sanitize your hands as you rush over to where he’s sitting.

“Wipe my face for me,” he demands, much to your shock as you near him. His gorgeous face (sculpted by God himself, no doubt) is covered in a light layer of sweat.

You gape, eyeing the towel folded perfectly on top of his bag. Never in the past three months have you seen anyone touching Sakusa, not even with gloves on. Even Sakusa himself rarely touches his own face, only to put on and take off his mask.

“Hurry up,” Sakusa breathes impatiently, placing his bottle on the floor.

Wait, are you really allowed to touch him? What’s going on? Are you in an alternate universe?

“Uh–” you fumble as your scattered mind tries to collect itself. “Let me get my glov-”

“Shut up. Just wipe it off,” he says, closing his eyes and bowing his head.

“Idiot,” he murmurs. That snaps you back, and a rush of adrenaline fills your body as you gulp.

Time’s moving in slow motion.

You carefully pick up his towel, a soft, red item that always smells of Sakusa’s laundry detergent and is free of lint.

You reach up, gently patting his face. Starting from his chin, then above his thin lips, the sides of his nose, his forehead where those adorable two moles lie.

“Done,” you whisper, taking a step back. You let out a huge sigh of relief, realizing you’ve been holding your breath this whole time.

Sakusa’s eyes slide open and he peers down directly into yours.

Again, time stops.

As he wordlessly turns away, you feel your stomach fluttering.

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

Why does he treat you different?

Your friends can only think of a few logical explanations to his strange behavior over this past month.

“He’s warmed up to you,” one of your friends proposes.

Another one scoffs.

“He probably got scolded by the coach for being rude to you.”

Your best friend, Yuyuka, has the most realistic theory.

“He was replaced by aliens.”

Yes, that must be it. Because wiping his sweat for him, refilling his water bottle gloveless, and handling his club jacket and jersey has become your responsibility.

You so badly want to ask Sakusa–no, Kiyoomi, which he casually demanded you to refer to him as, why.

Why does he let you do these things? Why does he allow you to use his precious phone to make emergency calls? Why do the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at the sight of you scrubbing his favorite volleyball clean?

Why did he hug you secretly after the team’s victory against Aoba Johsai last week?

You still can’t forget the way his slightly damp body held you for one, two, three seconds behind the gym before he gently shoved you away.

“What could it be, Komori…” you breathe aloud, head clouded with thoughts of Kiyoomi and his gorgeous face.

Your trusty informant, Komori, internally gags. While he loves you and Kiyoomi, it sure is irritating to have you gush about Kiyoomi to him in one ear and Kiyoomi ranting about you in the other.

Could you two just confess already? Komori thinks, sighing.

“Honestly? You’re basically dating already,” Komori retorts, glancing through the door to make sure his gossip-hungry teammates are out of range.

“Just ask him out. I swear it’ll go well.”

Your head snaps up towards the talented libero.

“No! I mean, I just can’t be sure… It’s just so weird! Like he hates me and sometimes he’s nice, but then he just pushes me away…”

Komori rubs his temples. That stupid ass tsundere.

“Oh! By the way… y/n, are you also… a germaphobe?” You frown.

“Of course not. Why? Has he asked? Does he ask about me?” You ask, eyes brightening. Komori shakes his head.

“It’s just weird. I mean, Kiyoomi said that you’re clean.” Your eyebrows furrow.

What does that mean?

As if reading your thoughts, Komori begins to explain.

“That guy… he can see germs. It’s weird. I mean, he thinks even I’m dirty, but he said from the start that you’re–”

“Komori!” A furious Sakusa shouts from the court. “Break’s been over for 29 seconds!”

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

“Listen, I’ve figured it out,” Yuyuka says in a whisper. The two of you are hiding at the top of the stairwell, plotting the ‘ultimate Sakusa Kiyoomi x l/n y/n plan.’

“Men… they require a push-and-pull. You’ve always been at his mercy, right? Since the beginning you’ve always admired him.” You nod intently.

“Exactly! So now you’re gonna ignore him.”

You squeeze your hands together. Could you really do that, though? Wouldn’t that just irritate him? But more importantly, you didn’t want to do anything to hinder his athletic performance on court–

“Stop overthinking!” Yuyuka scolds as you pout.

“But…”

“You got this! I swear, this’ll work. If he likes you, he’ll ask you directly what the problem is.”

As you head down the stairs and towards the volleyball gymnasium, you can’t help but wonder why, despite her romantic wisdom, Yuyuka has never been in a relationship.

–-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks. That’s how long it’s been since you’ve talked to Sakusa, touched his face, handled his water bottle and ball and had your hands on his sports tape.

Since you’ve begun this ignore-Kiyoomi-until-he-confesses nothing has happened, other than him glaring at you from across the court every moment you’re in his sight.

Yuyuka’s words ring in your mind. See, he doesn’t like you. You’re always the one to initiate! He doesn’t care about you, girl. Just let him go.

You feel tears welling in your eyes as you mop. Seriously, why are you even this upset over a situationship? Pathetic. He never liked you in the first place. It was just a one-sided misunderstanding. Even when you had walked home together, after all, it was at Komori’s insistence.

But then why had he purchased a Christmas gift for you?

Wait, it couldn’t have been that he had just received those chocolates from other girls and pawned them off to you, right? That sounds like something he'd do.

Fucking asshole.

“I can find someone else,” you mutter to yourself. “Yeah… I can find anyone else, stupid Kiyoomi…”

Lost in your thoughts, you envision yourself dumping him into a pit of mud. That makes you smile.

“Watch out!”

You don’t get the chance to react as a blue volleyball flies towards you at what looks like 500 mph.

“Oof!”

The ball collides with your left shoulder, sending you backwards. You stumble and fall on your butt, humiliated and in pain.

Stupid Kiyoomi!

Now you know he really hates you– no one on the team hits this hard!

“y/n!” The team is rushing towards you as you clench your shoulder.

“I’ll take you–” Iizuna calls out, but he reaches you first.

“Kiyoomi.” You whimper.

Sakusa’s panting, and bright red, but without hesitation, leans down and sweeps you into his arms, bridal-carry style.

“Here we go,” he mumbles as he takes you away, towards the back of the gym.

You close your eyes, burying your head in your hands, shoulder throbbing. God! Anyone but Kiyoomi would have been fine, why’d it have to be him, and why’d they all have to see you being wiped out by a single ball, so embarrassing…

“You’re a dumbass, huh,” Sakusa says as he lowers you onto the bench. Your eyes burn. It’s his fault, and he’s degrading you?

“Seriously. How many times have we told you not to fucking stand there, it’s dangerous, and watch your positioning on court–”

“It’s your fault!” You shout at him. The loud gym awkwardly goes quiet.

Sakusa’s eyes widen, but you just can’t stop yourself.

“You hit it! Why’s it my fault? You’ve been ignoring me!”

Now tears are really streaming down your face.

Your bottom lip is quivering, and Sakusa hates himself that even in your vulnerable state, he’s only consumed with thoughts of biting it.

“But it wasn’t– I didn’t–” Panicked, he looks around wildly, making eye contact with his cousin, who shakes his head as he ushers the rest of the team out of the gym.

Now, in silence, it feels like for the first time, Sakusa can really see you. Not as just the strangely clean manager, but as a confused and heartbroken girl.

“Sorry.”

You take in a small inhale, wiping your eyes. Sakusa reaches forward, grasping your hands. He gently taps your tears away with the sleeve of his sweater. In a shift motion, you suddenly find yourself in his lap, to your surprise.

“Kiyoomi! I’m not clean,” you mumble, “I fell on the floor of the gym, in a spot where I haven’t mopped yet–”

“I don’t care.”

You sit here awkwardly, relishing the feeling of the body heat radiating from his chest.

“Um… ” you start, squeezing your hands into fists.

“I like you. Sorry. I’ve– well, I’m an asshole. I know. And I’ve tried really hard to be more open. But it’s really hard. Not that that’s an excuse, Komori already chewed me out, so I know already. I fucked up, but since the start–”

You can’t help it, you’re pressing your lips against his.

“Wait, y/n, I–” You lean in again, twisting your body carefully so you’re sitting sideways.

You reach up, taking his face into your hands. His curly hair is even softer than you anticipated, no doubt thanks to his carefully selected conditioner.

Sakusa takes a deep breath, looking into your clear eyes. It’s like you’re seeing into him, through him, at the real him– a socially restricted germaphobe riddled with flaws.

But it’s as if you don’t care.

He’ll tell you about his problems later, but for now, he closes his eyes and lets you steal his lips again.

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

“Ooh, it’s so loud,” You whisper to your boyfriend, grasping his hand tightly. As you glance over, you can’t help but smile as you study Sakusa masked up and wrapped up in his hoodie.

It’s the Spring Tournament opening ceremony, meaning that there’s a hell ton of dirty, dirty people. He feels like throwing up, typically he stands in the corner, away from the masses of excited athletes and viewers, but he just doesn’t want to leave your side, especially because who he knows is here– the team’s first opponent, Fukurodani, that boasts a dirty simpleton who also happens to be your ex.

“y/n, I feel sick,” he groans, slumping against you. You giggle, massaging the top of his head with your fingertips.

“y/nnn!” A loud shout rings down the hallway. A familiar silhouette–

“Kotaro!” A grin spreads across your face as your ex and trusty partner in crime, Bokuto Kotaro, skips down the hall towards where you’re standing with Sakusa.

“Aw, it’s been so long, y/n, I’ve missed you!” Bokuto shouts, excitable as ever, inching closer. “Seriously, why’d you have to switch districts? Lemme get a hug!”

You’re shaking off your boyfriend’s arm when Sakusa suddenly shifts, creating a barrier between you and the owl-headed athlete.

“Gross.”

Bokuto looks taken aback, frowning as he identifies the grumpy man on your shoulder.

“Sure, sure, I’ll go wash my hands before touching her,” he grumbles, spinning on his heels.

“No need,” Sakusa says, pulling you closer as Bokuto marches away, arms folded.

“You can ask for a hug when she has to console your loss.”

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

a/n urgh i give up. sorry this is so shit. i give up. i've been working on this for so fucking long and it's just so bad. so cringe. but hope you liked or this helped you pass your time LOL this is probably the worst thing i've ever written

*i hate this so much i just skimmed thru it in my final read-through so there may be errors if there are just lemme know pls*

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x reader #hq kiyoomi #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x you

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rehfan · 1 month

Text

La Belle Dame avec Merci

Eddie Munson x Unpopular!AFAB!fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ readers only please - minor children DNI! – No Upsidedown; SLOW BURN; Eddie & Reader are both over 18; fake dating/relationship; reader is technically a virgin; mutual pining; Eddie has trust issues; emotional hurt/comfort; masturbation; emotional manipulation; reader is kinda shitty to Eddie; reader gets better; angst; more angst; Eddie’s mom is dead; small act of accidental physical violence; Uncle Wayne is the best

Tagged: @bluestuesday / @ali-r3n / @winchester-angel / @iletmytittiestitty-russ / <— let me know if you want to be added!!

DO NOT POST TO ANY OTHER SITE. My words are mine and mine alone.

Inspired by @/hard-candy-writing ‘s ORIGINAL POST — I sincerely hope I do this justice.

1.8K words of Chapter 1 below (no smut yet - this is a SLOW BURN) — more chapters to come! AO3 link

Tumblr Masterlist Link

Eddie Munson was on your radar about as much as any other guy in school. That is to say, boys were people to avoid on the whole; whether because they were just cruel to you, or users trying to get you in bed, and therefore people to pointedly stay away from or - if it ever would happen - a dreamy-eyed boy were to come along and finally be kind, the fact remained the same: boys were an inconvenience at best, a source of torture at worst. Keeping your head down was the rule for every day. None of them wouldn’t have anything to do with you anyway, but some would actively jump out of the way in the halls all the while thinking themselves clever and funny by quoting Monty Python: “She’s a witch! A witch! She turned me into a newt! I got better…” An act somehow always followed by a cackle from their clique.

Of course, Eddie himself wasn’t one of these. He mainly kept out of your way, even though you shared a biology class together. You knew him enough to hand him a pen or pencil if he asked you for one in desperation, but otherwise, he kept to the theater club and his D&D group, Hellfire, and gave you a wide berth.

So it was a surprise to you when you received notice from the librarian that Eddie asked for a tutor in history. Ms. O’Donnell was a challenging teacher, no doubt, but you were one of her favorites and were currently in her AP History class. Eddie was in American 20th Century history and while it wasn’t your favorite part of history, you could still help him get by. You thanked the librarian and went looking for Eddie.

It didn’t take you long. The librarian simply pointed behind you. He was at one of the smaller tables in the middle of the space, doodling in a notebook. His leg was pumping a mile a minute and he looked bored. It must be his free period, you thought. You sat opposite him without asking and he looked up surprised.

“So when would you like to get started?” you asked, unpacking a datebook and pen from your purse.

“What?” He was genuinely thrown off guard, but soon regained his composure. This was some kind of trick. Had to be. He searched the room and discovered the table behind you was loaded with jocks and party kids. They weren’t looking at either you or him, but something still smelled off. He narrowed his eyes at you and waited.

“For your tutoring. 20th Century History? Ms. O’Donnell’s class? The thing you asked to be tutored in?” You clicked your pen. “When are you free?”

“What are you talking about?” he said, utterly confused. You had never spoken to him for any length of time before but there was something about the sound of his voice you found fascinating. The more he spoke, the more you wanted to hear. Even if it was him turning you down for your academic services. “I never asked to be tutored,” he said, insulted. “I’m not that stupid. I’ll make it through her class all on my own, sweetheart, m’kay?” He tilted his head and gave you a smart-ass grin.

“Well then why did the librarian give me your name? And why did she say that you wanted to be tutored?”

“I don’t know, princess,” he said, leaning forward, that grin still painted on his face. “Maybe she’s trying to set you up with the only guy in school who isn’t terrified of you.” This was not true. You did terrify him. Deeply. Your piercing eyes. Your pretty hair. Not to mention your rather distracting body. You were a fucking masterpiece and totally untouchable. The Impenetrable Ice Queen. The Queen who was now talking to him, the lowly bard. What was happening here? Doubling down on his declaration, Eddie leaned in even further and whispered: “I can be scary too, you know.”

Your spine stiffened. That was a shot across your bow you weren’t expecting. “I don’t understand. The librarian always keeps track of who the tutors are assigned to. If you didn’t put your name in for tutoring-“

Just then a group of kids behind you laughed. “Hey Munson! The Ice Queen? You getting desperate? Want to take your chances with the frigid bitch of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah man, hope you like cold fish!”

“And cold showers!”

You didn’t even want to turn around. From the look on Eddie’s face, you knew that it was the same group of people that hated him too - that is to say, almost anyone else in the school.

You closed your eyes and took a deep calming breath. “Jocks or preps?” you asked him.

“Looks like a mix of both,” he answered you and raised his middle finger at them all. Because fuck them, that’s why. He wanted to punch them all in the face. After all, they were also insulting you and face punching after someone insults a lady is expected, no? The knight errant in him was itching for battle.

“The freak found the geek!” one of them called.

“Shh! Quiet in the library or all of you can leave!�� said the librarian. She stayed long enough to watch the big group behind you duck their heads and pretend to study their books. Satisfied that everything was over, she went into her office to answer the phone.

As soon as she was gone, it started back up again, just quieter.

“Hey Munson, be sure your dick doesn’t freeze and snap off inside her.”

“Don’t worry. She’ll probably cut it off as soon as he pulls it out of his pants.”

“And hey, Ice Queen, watch out Munson doesn’t have anything catching.”

“Yeah. God knows what that freak carries.”

”Probably what the green monkey had.”

“It’s so nice to know they care,” you muttered, your voice dripping with sarcasm. As you kept your gaze in Eddie’s direction, you saw his jaw clench and his eyes darken. You commended him for keeping his temper, if only barely.

In that moment, as Eddie was steaming and you were trying to let their words pass over you, you came to an important realization: you and Eddie were in the same boat socially. It was also then that you realized that Eddie might be the answer to your prayers. In fact, out of all the guys in Hawkins, out of every single male soul, he was likely to be the one person that you could co-conspire with - if he were up for it, that is.

And if you were honest, there was something fundamentally attractive about the metalhead. You enjoyed how he held court in the cafeteria from time to time. It took bold resolve to speak his truth to the entire school. And there was something about his eyes. The intensity behind them was magnetic. You didn’t need much more thought.

You leaned in, resting your elbows on the table. “How game are you?”

“Huh?” he said, snapping out of his murderous plotting.

You slowed your speech to match the speed of his brain: “How. Game. Are. You? Will you play along with me?”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t see where this was going, but it was better than being carted off to jail by Hopper on a battery charge. He was an adult in the eyes of the law, after all. He allowed his curiosity to override his anger. “A little improv, sweetheart? Heh. What do you have in mind?” He honestly didn’t know what to expect from you at this point, but he was seriously intrigued. The Ice Queen wanted to conspire with him. He was flattered.

“Just follow my lead,” you said, “and let’s blow all their tiny minds.”

Slowly you rose from your seat. Your skirt was long, almost to your ankles, but had a slit that ran to just above your left knee. You came around the table and lifted and parted the skirt, swinging your left leg clean over Eddie’s legs and settled yourself in his lap. Automatically, his hands were on your hips, sliding down to stop on your thighs, warm and firm. Eddie looked shocked for about three milliseconds, and it was a good thing he had recovered; if he were too shocked, you didn’t think it would sell the way you wanted it to.

Taking his face in your hands, you turned your head to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, another to his temple, and yet another to the side of his head near his ear. You were testing his waters. You could feel him tremble slightly, but he was holding fast. Good for him. “Follow my lead,” you whispered gently. Then you pressed a searing kiss to his lips.

Eddie’s brain shut off.

He responded to you much more respectfully than you expected; he kept his tongue to himself. In truth, he was still trying to recover from the shock of having you so close and pressed against him. All it would take would be you grinding your hips against his and he wouldn’t be able to walk anywhere without a book in front of his crotch.

The whispered “What the hell-?” from behind you was completely worth the risk of trusting the honor of Eddie Munson. The sound of the rest of them whispering to one another in amusement, fascination, and shock was also satisfying.

The kiss lasted a good thirty seconds or so when the bell rang and everyone gathered their things. You got up. As you gathered your datebook, you smiled at him. “See you in biology, lover.”

There was an extra swing in your hips as you left the library. You could feel Eddie’s stare and knew that his dumb grin was on his face.

You were wrong, however. Eddie was too in shock to react. Too overwhelmed by your energy just now. He stared in confused longing, swallowing hard, knowing he could never really have you and wondering desperately what he was supposed to do now that he knew what kissing you felt like. What having you in his lap felt like.

With that kiss, you knew that the Hawkins High rumor mill was going to spin so fast, it might set the school on fire. That much, you could have predicted. What you didn’t expect was how hot and bothered it had left you. The warmth of him you had expected. Even the plush feel of his lips was a foregone conclusion. But the feel of him - him beneath you and in front of you, his hands on you, his scent spinning around your brain. That was overwhelming. This was either the best idea you’ve ever had, or the worst. Unfortunately, only Eddie Munson could define that for you.

**************

CHAPTER 2 is now posted to AO3 and TUMBLR

#fanfic #writing #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #fake relationship #la belle dame avec merci #lbdam #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #ao3 writer #slow burn

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pichirobi · 2 years

Text

put your hands together for yet another hualian college au 🥳🥳🎉

once the star valedictorian of his high school, xie lian is now a broke, failing college student surviving on packaged ramen fished out of cafeteria garbage cans. his luck turns for the better when he meets the mysterious art student who's filled his canvases with portraits of xie lian.

fic series | au tag | notes under the cut! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

xie lian (he/him, asexual)

xie lian's parents laid him off so he takes odd jobs, tutors, and does homework for anyone he can get to pity him. all of his money is spent on rent, and a cheap gym membership he abuses so he can at least look like he's functional on the outside. he bodybuilds his stress away.

his grades are terrible. xl's actually a greatly diligent student and does all his work, he just keeps misremembering due dates, and his professors are the kind that give zeroes on assignments typed in the wrong font.

he's kept fed by his roommate, shi qingxuan (she/he). xie lian's saved her ass from academic probation enough times for it to be embarrassing. their bond is more of a silent agreement to look out for each other.

hua cheng (he/they, demisexual)

his parents died when he was young but they left him a small fortune. he doesn't show off his money, unless it's to dress opulently outside of class and treating xl to expensive restaurants.

hua cheng takes like six courses a semester, four of which are obscure electives. he says it's because he likes to keep himself well-rounded and busy, but he has a ridiculous amount of free time anyway.

he's a perfect student but his professors are wary of him. he thinks very little of most professors and talks back to them in such a way where they can't tell if they've been insulted or not.

hc chooses the same art concentration every semester. portraits of the same beautiful boy at various ages. sometimes his art professor can get him to paint butterflies feeding on flowers.

hualian's backstory

their story begins on a playground. 10-year-old xie lian scares off mean kids bullying 8-year-old hua cheng over his heterochromia (one of the mean kids is qi rong). xie lian tells him he thinks hua cheng's eyes are pretty. xie lian wears earrings and has long hair that he braids with flowers, and he doesn't care what other kids think of him. he won't let anyone be bullied for their appearance.

we know what comes next—endless pining. hua cheng's infatuation grows as, from a distance, he watches his noble, gracious, special classmate defend kids who are easy targets (with the help of feng xin and mu qing) and earns the title of teacher's pet. hua cheng gains the bravery to stop covering his eye, until hualian are separated in chuzhong (secondary/middle school). the bullying returns and hua cheng swears to never take off the eye bandage again.

hua cheng's "young soldier" moment is at a halloween party in their last year of gaozhong (high school). hc's dressed as a ghost, face painted and almost unrecognizable. xie lian's dressed as a rabbit. qi rong spikes his cup of water. xl's top is sleeveless and it's unintentionally drawing unwanted attention to his shredded arms. some asshole teen girls won't leave him alone and keep flirting with/grabbing him. hua cheng tells them to fuck off and scares them away. although xie lian is indeed incredibly gorgeous and hua cheng is incredibly flustered, after the party, he makes sure to escort a drunk xie lian home.

some guy xl's never seen the face of starts rumors that xie lian paid off the administration to name him valedictorian, and that he sweet-talks his teachers into bullshitting his grades. he's the understudy for the lead role in a school play. the girl who was meant to lead falls horrifically sick and is in the hospital for some time. the guy who hides his face spreads another rumor that xie lian is the one who put her in the hospital so xl could have the attention/spotlight. other students gradually join in on the fun of bashing xl, knocking an admirable figure down to their level, until people start avoiding him, and his popularity is lost. feng xin and mu qing distance themselves from xie lian. hua cheng gets more detentions than usual for picking fights with anyone who dares to insult xie lian in front of him.

hualian in college

their third-first meeting is when xie lian is down on his luck, drenched from the rain as he just barely misses his bus to campus. hua cheng appears, stands next to xie lian with a red umbrella, and wordlessly waits with him for the next bus.

xie lian doesn't see the kind stranger again until he needs to track down the dean of xianle university, jun wu. jun wu is chatting with the head of the studio art department. while xl politely waits for their conversation to end, he looks around at the art students milling about, and catches that tall, handsome, kind stranger staring at him. the stranger smiles, looks down, and leaves. xl wanders the room to check out the art pieces scattered around, and comes to an easel in the corner. xl is faced with a painting of...himself. the signed name is written so poorly he can't read it.

hua cheng comes to him next. he introduces himself as "san lang" and asks xie lian for tutoring—not for any subject, but to improve his handwriting. cue montage of soft-spoken critiques and hands gently touching and hua cheng confessing his admiration via the poem they're practicing writing together. xie lian doesn't recognize hua cheng from their childhood but fixates on that lovely deep voice, trying to place where he's heard it before. hua cheng tries to overpay him but xie lian refuses, saying hc can tip him by grabbing lunch with xl. they meet up for calligraphy practice once a week.

san lang is generous and protective and patient. san lang is flirty and dependable and mischievous. he's also very, very handsome, distractingly so, "how can it be that no one's fought for the affection of a guy like you?" throughout the wild events of xie lian's life, hua cheng is right by his side. from helping ling wen the librarian organize hundreds of books and scrolls, to uncovering the schemes of pei ming's vengeful ex, to stopping the dangerous "pranks" of xl's insane cousin qi rong.

xie lian and shi qingxuan's dorm is falling apart at the seams. hua cheng spends a day and night with them helping to clean and renovate. he sleeps over (AND THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED ?!). xie lian wakes up to a new canvas painting on his bedroom wall. it's a beautiful portrait of himself, as a child, with flowers braided in long hair. in the bottom right corner is a signed name that xie lian can now read, the handwriting marginally improved.

xie lian finds that he stops expecting misfortune. he gains friends. his grades improve. at one of shi wudu's lake parties, xie lian nearly drowns, and hua cheng gives him totally unnecessary mouth-to-mouth. (they take this as inspiration to find completely bullshit excuses to kiss in the future.)

later on at the same lake party, they find a moment alone, warming/drying up by a fire pit. hua cheng alludes to being in love with someone who saw him at his worst. xie lian is envious of that. he firmly tells hua cheng that what matters is him, not the state of him.

misc

hua cheng has been going blind in his right eye for over a decade, and by college, he can just make out changes in light with it.

hualian definitely have a "draw me like one of your french girls" scene while their relationship is ambiguous. feng xin walks in and has prayed every day since then that he's knocked on the head so hard he gets amnesia.

hua cheng gradually leaves more and more of his belongings in xie lian's room until he practically lives there ("oh gege, how silly of me, leaving my toothbrush with you for the 23rd time this month 😇").

feng xin still calls xie lian "dianxia"; it was xl's nickname throughout primary school because he was such a beloved little prince 😌

feng xin and mu qing insist they're sworn rivals, but sign up to be each other's dormmates every semester. ("i know mu qing's every move. how many pillows he enjoys sleeping with. how he likes his coffee in the morning. you have to keep a vigilant eye on the enemy, dianxia.")

shi wudu offers xie lian an absurd amount of money to spy on report back weekly updates on shi qingxuan's life. xie lian politely refuses.

pei ming and lang qianqiu are gym lunks. sometimes they workout with xie lian, barely disguising their true intention of competing with each other.

hua cheng will occasionally waste time at a bar owned by he xuan. he plays poker and wins nearly every game by sheer luck. he doesn't bet money, but instead has the losers do something embarrassing for his own entertainment. he gains a fearful reputation, and mixes drinks when he's bored of playing or when no one in the room is brave enough to bet with him.

hua cheng makes up increasingly ridiculous stories as to why he covers his eye when he's asked. "it shoots a deadly laser." "a bear scratched it out, but i took its skin after. it made a nice rug." "my eye is right there. what are you talking about? are you okay?"

xie lian rescues a small, hungry cat he names banyue. he asks hua cheng to house her as he lives off-campus. the conversation goes like this:

"gege..."

"san lang 🥺"

"FINE."

qi rong buys a cat just to copy xie lian and names it guzi.

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i984 · 1 year

Text

My Thoughts Echoing Your Name | Part 4

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Afraid of commitment! Wednesday Addams, reader cried ugly, lame banters, author gave up-ish on writing from paragraph 3, Jealous! Wednesday Addams, lame-ass guy still exists.

|Summary|: Even after Wednesday Addams broke your heart, the ache for her is unbearably still there.

|A/n|: I struggled with this one, there's 5 different drafts until I decided to just type whatever comes in mind, and here you have it, a not-last-part of Burning Red. Next and final part is out!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Music.

It's coming from outside your window.

You strain your ears, and they manage to catch the all-too-familiar tune. It's frickin' Aerosmith blasting in the middle of the night.

Great. Now you look like an idiot from some cliche romantic comedy movie—tears streaming down your cheeks with snotty tissue papers scattered about your bedsheets, a pathetic teenager bawling their eyes out with a love song playing in the background.

Wednesday, the girl of your dreams, was never yours.

It feels funny. How you thought that after leaving Wednesday yet again for the second time that evening, you would finally find peace in the four walls of your dorm space. But instead, here you are, throat hoarse, eyes stinging, chest ragged, nose sniffling, and some psycho has decided to interrupt your much-needed de-stressing session.

The universe must hate you.

You plop down your bed while your eyelids close, drowning in the all-consuming black void while the faint chord of music continues to play. A sound escaped your lips. A defeated chortle. It sounded so weak that you were almost sure it hadn't come out of you, the voice so uncharacteristic of your usual relaxed, carefree laughter.

Memories of your latest cafe commotion flash through your mind, and you feel your heart sinks and touch your diaphragm.

Is this it? Have you been reduced to a heartbroken pathetic fool? The obnoxious images assault your brain, and you scream into your pillow as you give in to the torture, mind re-living the appalling incident at Weathervane.

"Whoa, who are you?" the man across from you and Wednesday asked, his trunk no longer attached to the sofa booth, legs standing up hurriedly at Wednesday's intimidating display.

Wednesday pulls the side of your body closer, both your hips bruisingly pressed to each other as she speaks, "I believe I should ask you the same question."

You squirm under Wednesday's tight grip, unable to decide if you should break free or admit defeat and stay at your place. You chose the latter, partly to assess the situation but also because you've stupidly missed her touch, despite how much you wish to smack the face of the girl standing beside you.

The man's face contorts into confusion before his brows shoot up and his mouth gapes, finally coming to an irksome realization.

"You- you're that outcast from the freak school, right?"

Wednesday, a freak, though she wasn't the only one.

"Your obviously puny brain might want to try coming up with something a little more descriptive than that."

The man ignored Wednesday's insult, finger now raised to point at the raven-haired girl. "No, yeah, I remember you. You're that crazy girl who played cello while the ceremony caught fire."

He takes a small step back from the two of you, the tissue paper in his hand now crumpled. "They said you were the one who staged it all."

"I have to say, the town's people here might not be too dense after all," came Wednesday's haughty reply, and you're starting to get sick of the pointless banter displayed.

The man turns his face to you, "We should go, like now."

You didn't move from your spot—or rather you can't. Wednesday's arm wraps around you more firmly, and you don't know if you hate the feeling of it; the hint of possessiveness in the gesture offers sweet promises and false hope.

Wednesday, the black dahlia that will be the death of you.

It doesn't take a genius to find out, so the next words that come out of the man's mouth are no surprise.

"Wait, you know this girl?" the person you've yet to learn their name asked, and when you didn't answer, he took another step back, his hands now coming up to pull on the base of his hair in horror.

"I can't believe you're friends with this psychopath," and you feel your stomach churn at the man's words. Not at his obviously condescending tone or the sudden behavior change but at the word he chose to use.

Wednesday, a friend. Is that how he sees the two of you?

Even a stranger seems to think this, so could it be true? Oh, how you want to say no because friends don't act this way. They don't get upset about dates; they don't go on those. The romantic kinds, at least.

Their hearts don't hammer against their chests, not when they hold each other's hands so tight they can feel the blood rush under their skin.

They don't swap spit and shove their tounges down each other's throats, and they won't get upset if one of them says that it's all that is. A kiss. After all, friends can kiss each other, right?

But most importantly, they don't get upset when strangers think they're indeed friends.

Wednesday now feels like a foe, and you know you've lost.

"But we're not friends, are we?" You finally turn your head to look at Wednesday's face, and when you see whatever cryptic expression she's got on her front, you lose all hope.

"We're nothing," your voice shakes in defeat, and your free hand tries to pry Wednesday's arm off you, "so I shouldn't have been upset."

"We're nothing," you lift the fingers gripping your hips tightly one by one, "you were right, and I was wrong."

"We're nothing," you look at her previously cold hand that now desperately holds yours, and you wonder if this may be the last time you'll ever get the chance to touch her, "so you should let me go."

You pull your hand to your side forcefully. The cold and the warmth were no more; it was just you.

"So I should go."

The cafe's doorbell chimes, and you leave Wednesday and the stranger behind you, not daring to look back at them, at her.

Because maybe if you do, you'll see that tears have stained her face just like yours have, and you don't know if you'll survive with the sight burned to your brain.

Wednesday, now a ripped page of the book you wish you could burn.

You open your eyes, and the light frays them, making your brows furrow as you groan into the room. The music was no longer there. Gone. Only deafening silence kills your heart and robs your soul. You feel so painfully alone.

Breathing in the air, you look up and see spiders making webs on your ceiling. They dance, weaving more web out, painting beautifully intricate patterns bit by bit.

Your mind calms down, the bitter thoughts now replaced with a name, and your mind holds to it and repeats it like a mantra.

Wednesday

You want to see her.

Wednesday

You want to feel her.

Wednesday

Your heart calls out her name.

Wednesday

Oh, you miss her.

"Wednesday." Your voice calls out her name; a knock answers.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x y/n #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you

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lovesickonmybed · 12 days

Note

What if Bully Ellie and the reader are exes and now Ellie just wants to make the reader's life miserable 💀💀 I will pay for it, bc I know she will be so mean to her but the moment a new girl wants to make a move on reader Ellie will lose it

better than me | 18+

masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | bully!ex!ellie x ex!reader

synopsis | ellie isn't handling your break up well, her jealousy and anger taking over in the worst ways

warnings | 18+ MDNI!! wedgies, bullying, insults, jealousy, toxic behavior, sexual context, masturbation.

word count | 2k

a/n | honestly i'm kind of debating turning this into a miniseries because i really like this concept and kind of want to see where i could take it but let me know what y'all think!! i wrote this in the middle of the night with zero editing so if you see any mistakes no you don't. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

You and Ellie had a very messy breakup, one she couldn’t get over. So she started bullying you. It started your freshman year of college, only two weeks after the breakup. Ellie had gone up to you in the locker room at the school's gym. She looked at you with an angry glare, “Move, you’re in my way.” She glares at you with her arms crossed, she had never looked at you like that before.

“Just go around, you can literally climb over the bench. I don’t wanna talk to you,” you say, the breakup still fresh for you.

Ellie shoves you back lightly, not breaking her glare, “No. You’re gonna move.” This exchange had garnered them a crowd, a lot of the girls in the room glancing over at the pair. Ellie is stubborn but so are you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? This isn’t you, Ellie!” You exclaim, not even caring if you’re causing a scene. You’ve never seen this side of her and it upsets you. You’re not even expecting it when she grabs you by your shoulders and spins you around, quickly pushing you face first against the cold metal lockers. She grabs the waistband of your gym shorts and pulls it away from your body, giving her access to your underwear. She wraps her fingers around your waistband and you beg as soon as you feel her cold fingers brush against your skin.

“Ellie, whatever you’re about to do, don't do it, please! I-I’m sorry! I should’ve moved!” You plead with her to literally save your own ass. It doesn’t work. She grips the waistband, pressing her arm hard against your back to keep you in place.

“You should’ve listened to me when I told you to fucking move,” Ellie borderline snarls before pulling hard on your waistband, the cotton fabric of your panties forcing its way up and between your cheeks. You yelp in pain and instinctively try to run, causing Ellie to pull even harder, forcing you onto your toes in seconds. You try every trick in the book to escape the pain but it’s no use, she has you right where she wants you and you’re not going anywhere.

She pulls and pulls at your panties, hiking them up to your shoulders before letting go of your waistband, laughing when you whine as it snaps back against you. She continues to hold your body against the locker, pressing herself against you and gripping your hair painfully. “You better listen to me next time I tell you to do something you fucking loser,” she threatens before letting you go and shoving past you to get to her locker. You look around the locker room with embarrassment, looking down at the ground and trying to hide your face with your hair as you grab the rest of your things from your locker before running out of the locker room and back to your dorm.

You encounter her again a week later, you’re out in the quad talking with a girl from one of your classes, her name is Layla. You’re both sitting on a blanket she brought, talking about an assignment, cracking jokes here and there. You’re having a great time, smiling bigger than you had in a while, cheeks flushed when she compliments you. It’s bliss until Ellie comes along. She’s walking back to her dorm after an annoyingly long lecture, she’s got an overpriced iced coffee in her hand that she bought from the campus coffee shop and a pissed off look on her face.

She’s speed walking, wanting to get away from everyone and everything when she spots you and Layla. You’re leaning in and giggling, smiling like you did when you were with Ellie. It makes her heart ache and before she even realizes it she’s walking over to the both of you. Her mouth feels dry as she’s standing in front of you two. She looks down and feels nauseous as you both look up at her.

“Uh, can I help you?” You ask coldly, glaring up at her. She looks nervous, and it’s slightly amusing to you to see her like this. Your date grabs your hand reassuringly, aware of the incident that had happened a few weeks ago.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, her mouth moving quicker than her brain. She mentally facepalms after realizing what she’s said. It’s obvious what you’re doing and Ellie fucking hates it.

“We’re just…hanging out. Why do you care?” You respond, looking away from her, focusing your eyes on a bird flying around in the distance.

Ellie shuffles her feet and racks her brain, trying to come up with a response. “I-I-” She cuts herself off, still trying to find the words.

“Can you just leave us alone, we’re just trying to hang out and enjoy some fresh air. We’re not bothering anyone, okay?” Layla says, speaking up for the both of you. This angers Ellie even more, she doesn’t want to hear a word Layla has to say. She’s seeing red, jealous when she knows she has no right to be. She wants to act logically but she can’t, she acts purely on emotion as she tosses her coffee at Layla. It sends you both gasping in surprise scooting back, but not near quick enough to avoid the splash. You groan as you realize your white shirt has been covered in Ellies drink. Ellie is just as shocked by her actions as you are, she’s quick to run off, wanting to get back to her dorm as quickly as possible.

You and Layla scramble to figure out what to do, using the blanket to dry yourselves. All you do is make the stains on your shirt and light wash jeans even worse and you hang your head in embarrassment as she walks you back to your dorm. You let her borrow some clothes and your shower stuff as she goes and gets herself cleaned up, you can’t lie she looks pretty good in your clothes even if it is just a black t-shirt and some sweatpants. You have your turn to shower and change and when you finish up you go back into your room to talk to Layla.

“I’m so sorry about that, I had no idea she was gonna do that. She hasn’t been herself since we broke up, she’s all mean now, it’s weird…” You apologize, sitting down on your twin bed next to her, brushing through your wet hair.

Layla looks at you and smiles reassuringly, “It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for her now, if she can’t get over it she should talk to you instead of acting like such a dick. It’s not like you knew she’d do something so ridiculous.” You lay your head on her shoulder and look down at your lap.

“I just feel bad you got caught up in this shit, she shouldn’t be messing with anyone else. I mean, she’s mad at me, there’s no reason for you to get caught in the middle of it,” you sigh. Layla once again grabs your hand, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb.

“She’s mad at me too for taking you out on a cute little picnic,” she chuckles, resting her head against yours. You feel comfortable and happy with her, but there’s a part of you that feels like something is missing. You push down the feeling, it’s not something you feel like addressing in the middle of such a sweet moment. You push back your memories of Ellie and let yourself smile as you and Layla cuddle up together. She stays over for an hour, cuddling with you and talking about class and getting to know each other better, you’re grateful she doesn’t bring up Ellie again. When she leaves she promises to return your clothes when she sees you again, you couldn’t care less if she did, she looks better in them, anyway.

Ellie is freaking the fuck out when she gets back to her dorm room, completely out of breath as she had run the entire way there. She’s thankful Dina isn’t there as she collapses onto her bed hyperventilating. She hasn’t always been great at impulse control, everyone who’s known her has known this. But she didn’t think it was bad enough for something like that to happen. She knows she’s going about everything wrong, there’s no way she’s getting you back acting like that, but she doesn’t know how to get her shit together.

“I’m so fucking stupid oh my goddd,” Ellie groans, grabbing her pillow and screaming into it in frustration. She’s embarrassed and angry and still feels pangs of jealousy as she thinks about you and Layla giggling together in the grass. Ellie had never taken you on a picnic, when you dated it was mostly arcade and movie dates, she hadn’t even thought you’d want to do something outdoors. She overthinks it, convincing herself you broke up with her because she never took you on a nature date. It’s a stupid, irrational thought, and Ellie knows that, but she doesn’t care. She needs to let herself spiral before she can pick herself back up and make a plan that doesn’t make you look at her like she’s a complete jackass.

“I need to apologize, tell her I’m sorry for the wedgie and the coffee and fucking up her date…her date with that girl who doesn’t deserve her but whatever…” Ellie mumbles to herself, pulling at her hair stressfully. She thinks back to the wedgie incident, she completely humiliated you and it got her wet. Your pathetic little noises, how you were at her mercy like that, it just did it for her. She scrunches up her nose, trying to convince herself to stop thinking about it like that but it doesn’t take long for her to soak her panties once again.

“If I take care of it, I’ll stop thinking about it,” she mutters as she tries to convince herself it’s okay to get off to the memory. She slips off her jeans and slips her hand under her panties, starting off by flicking her clit, whining pathetically at the sensation. She slips two of her fingers inside her soaked cunt, pumping them in and out slowly as she uses her thumb to stimulate her clit. She continues working her fingers in and out of her cunt as she bites her lip to keep her noises to a minimum. All she can think about is how pathetic you sounded as you took your wedgie, she replays the noises in her head, loving how you sounded. You never sounded like that when you had slept together, that was a side of you she didn’t get to see until she had your waistband in her hand. It doesn’t take her long to cum, whimpering out your name as she reaches her climax. She lazily works her way through her orgasm, wishing it was your fingers instead. She feels guilty afterwards, mumbling to herself that she’s not doing that again.

She forces herself to get out of bed and into the cramped bathroom she shares with Dina so that she can wash off her shame. Little does she know that you’re in your dorm room doing the same, pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt shamefully as you use your other hand to pull your panties like Ellie had. The feeling of powerlessness, pain, and humiliation had all combined into pleasure in your brain. You halfway moan Ellie’s name when you cum, cutting yourself off when you realize what name is leaving your lips. “I’m never doing that again,” you promise yourself as the shame bubbles up inside of you. For once you’re grateful for your roommate to come bursting in the door, you let her nonsensical rant about whatever show she was watching distract you from the lingering thoughts of Ellie’s hands on your waistband.

#ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams smut #ex!ellie williams #bully!ellie williams #bully!ex!ellie williams #wedgie kink

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 9 months

Text

Par For The Course (Request)

Words: 1,430

Warnings: Angst, insults thrown between couple

“Can you pay attention for five minutes, girl?” Travis huffed at you as he watched you twirl your golf club on the course. You got bored about an hour into your husband’s golf crash course and were now pretending to be a baton twirler. The club slipped from your hand, hitting you in the head as it fell to the ground. “Ha! That’s what your ass gets!” Travis hollered at your injury. “You better be nicer to me, Kelce”, you pointed at him, your eyes narrowed. “I’m only here because your golf partner backed out at the last minute. I don’t even like golf!” You walked over to the golf cart, fanning yourself with the tournament program. Travis and Jason signed up for the American Century Championship Celebrity golf tournament, but his brother had to back out at the last minute, and Travis bribed you with a new Birkin bag to get you to go with him. You were going to get a nice weekend in Lake Tahoe, and Travis was going to be out of ten grand. It seemed like a good deal for you.

That was until you realized you were actually going to have to play golf, and Travis expected to win. “Can you please come back over here baby? Let me show you how to swing.” You sauntered back over to Travis, your short black dress blowing in the warm wind. “You didn’t even compliment my outfit. I bought this just for you.” You flashed your backside to Travis, him groaning at the sight of your lace thong. He adjusted his hat, knowing he needed to keep his composure in public. You giggled at his reaction. “You know you look good. Why are you fishing for compliments?” Travis retorted. You rolled your eyes, “I’m trying to delay this shit. I really don’t want to play, baby.”

“Get your ass over here.” You grabbed the club, getting into hitting position. Travis wrapped his arms around you from behind, directing your feet, and adjusting your hand placement. You grinded your ass into his crotch, Travis backing away immediately with a chuckle. He pulled you into him, whispering in your ear. “Can you stop? Please? Get through today, and I promise I’ll make it worth it.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. “Fine.” “Alright nah, let’s get serious.” He handed you the club and backed up, anticipating the club was going to go flying. “Ok, Y/N, focus.” You gave him a cheeky wink, as you lined up your feet behind the tee box, swung your club back, and hit the ball with precision, landing it in the fairway of the first hole. You took a second to admire your shot before looking at Travis. “What the fuck was that?!” Travis’ mouth was agape, shocked at your golf skills. You laughed, “You remember I told you I worked with my dad every summer through middle and high school? Yeah, that was at a golf course.” He lifted your chin, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You booped his nose with your finger. “Don’t ever doubt your wife, baby.”

You and Travis were traveling to the 9th hole, the tournament quickly getting competitive, you and your husband holding second place. Teammates Justin Timberlake and Jimmy Fallon were leading the competition. 10-year-old you was weak in the knees at the thought of meeting Justin Timberlake. Travis was getting tired of hearing you talk about him; you had been nonstop all afternoon. “Did I tell you that ‘No Strings Attached’ was the first album that I bought with my allowance money?” Travis rolled his eyes. “Yes, you’ve told me that at least five times already.” “I’m sorry, but he’s a musical legend, he’s been my celeb crush for the last 20 years.” Your husband stopped the golf cart suddenly, causing you to shift forward in your seat, bracing yourself on the dash. “Just don’t embarrass yourself”, Travis added as he climbed out of the cart to grab his clubs. “What is that supposed to mean?” You raised your eyebrows in annoyance. “I’m just saying”, Travis shrugged, “you’re in that too short dress, showing off for every guy who walks by, I would hate for you to regret doing something.” You were fuming with anger. “You didn’t think I was embarrassing myself when you thought I was wearing it only for you.” “Just act like you’ve been around celebrities before. Don’t act like some groupie.” You would have hit Travis over the head with your club if there weren’t so many witnesses. “When we’re out together, you represent me. Don’t embarrass me and we won’t have a problem.” The words were falling out of Travis’ mouth, and he was regretting everyone. Hurt flashed across your face before you composed yourself. You knocked Travis’ bag over, the club spilling out on the course. “Oops. Sorry, wouldn’t want to embarrass you.” Your tone was taunting, your features stone faced as you walked away. “Fuck, I’m gonna pay for this later.” Travis whispered to himself.

You walked up to your tee at the 10th hole, Justin standing to the side, studying your game. You started to swing when he stopped you. “You’ll go further if you wait to turn your toe until your club is past your back arm.” He motioned to demonstrate it to you. Knowing that Travis was only 10 feet away, his gaze burning into your back, you decided to use this situation to your advantage. You put on your best pitiful damsel in distress voice. “Do you think you can show me Justin? I’m not really good at this sport.” You made sure to catch Travis’ eyes, giving him a grin before Justin came over. He stood behind you, his arms around yours as he guided your swing. “Make sense?” Justin asked as he gave you room. “I guess”, you gave him a pouty lip. As you got ready to swing, you had to fight off your golf instincts to really mess up. The ball landed in the rough, immediately putting you and Travis in third place. You couldn’t give one fuck about winning the game; your heart was broken.

As soon as your group was finished playing, you headed to the club to get a drink. You were sitting at a table on the patio, trying not to cry in front of anyone. “What ya drinkin’?” You looked up to see Justin approaching your table. He pulled out the chair, sitting down across from you. “Vodka, neat.” You placed your cup down after you finished the last drop. “Wow, you play golf like that, and you can handle your liquor? Impressive.�� You looked at him shocked. “What are you talking about?” He chuckled, taking off his hat. “I’ve played golf with Travis multiple times. Ain’t no way you guys were in second place with just his play.” You blushed, embarrassed that you had probably made a fool of yourself in front of your childhood crush. “I’m sorry, Justin. Travis pissed me off today, and I used you to get back at him. That was so inappropriate.” He waived your apology off. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s really sorry. He wouldn’t shut up about you when we were waiting to do press.” He pointed over to the press box, where Travis was sitting alone, looking downright pitiful.

“Tell us Mr. Kelce, how does it feel to know that your wife is so much better at golf than you?” Travis turned to see you standing next to him, giving him a small smile. “I feel like a fuckin’ idiot.” You sat down in his lap, laying your hand on his head. “Good.” You chuckled, rubbing his back. “I’m so sorry baby. I never should have said anything like that to you. You’ve been nothing but supportive of me in every sense of the word, and I treated you like shit.” You sighed, standing up. “I accept your apology. But know something, Travis. I chose you. I married you. Any “crushes” I may have are just for fun, even when they’re Justin Timberlake.” He pulled you in for a hug, placing a kiss on your forehead. “I know. How can I make it up to you?” You contemplated, tapping your index finger on your chin. “I can think of some ways.” You swung your hips, Travis chuckling. “Can you wait until we get home?” You pushed his chest, walking away. “I sure can. We can’t buy two Birkin bags here. We have to get to the Hermes store first.”

#travis kelce fic #travis kelce fluff #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #nfl fan fic #nfl fic #nfl fluff #nfl imagine

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meadowscarlet · 2 years

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freak in you ━━━ eddie munson.

pairings: eddie munson x fem!cheerleader!reader

summary: having a secret relationship with you, a popular and beautiful cheerleader, makes it difficult for eddie, the well-known freak, to maintain the secrecy of your relationship especially when you're flaunting your short cheerleading skirt, looking both hot and adorable at the same time which drives eddie slightly insane and causes him to lose control of himself.

warnings: nsfw, eddie is down bad for the reader, vaginal fingering, praise kink, skirt kink (does that even exist? lol) uses of pet names, cursing and dry humping.

author’s note: i honestly don’t know why i wrote this but enjoy i guess. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

Eddie first met you in middle school. You were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, in his eyes, and he was easily infatuated. He remembered how he would memorize the side of your face, annotating your delicacy, and how sometimes when he was bored in class he would do some sketches about you, always admiring. He would have felt like a stalker by the back of the class—always admiring and nothing else.

You wouldn’t notice him anyway. Eddie has always been in the background; he would sit in the farthest corner of the classroom, away from everyone, and eat lunch with his freakish friends as the popular guys taunted and threw shit at their meal while everyone laughed at them. Eddie was used to everyone taunting and insulting him, so he didn't mind.

In short, Eddie gives no fucks.

Obviously, at first, it bothered him, but all of a sudden, he realized that nobody—who is an asshole in his book—was worth caring about. Everyone but you. Even though you were a pretty little thing, Eddie had learnt not to judge a book by its cover and he was still leery of you. He wasn't surprised that your reputation as a popular girl from middle school continued into high school, but he always assumed that you were just like everyone else.

Eddie hasn’t always been the wisest so he assumed wrong. Despite your notoriety, you proved him wrong by treating him with nothing but gentleness. When you caught Eddie staring at you in class, you would smile at him (which was embarrassing for Eddie, but hey, at least you didn't look at him oddly) or you would even continue to ask how his day was; you were never mean or a complete ass to him, and that made Eddie even more smitten with you, if that's possible.

Eddie was often caught off guard by you, which in some way led to your bond. Many people found it odd that you were friends with Eddie the “freak,” believing that he would have a negative influence on you, but you weren't bothered and kept your friendship with him. You were an angel that managed to captivate everyone with your lovely demeanor and beauty, preventing them from being able to dislike you.

In contrast to your beauty and other qualities, Eddie really admired your resolve to be with him. He recalled how you occasionally skipped cheerleading practices so you could see him at his trailer and listen to him play his guitar. Something about the way you value him beyond all others. Feelings first surfaced when your relationship became so strong that Eddie realized he had always wanted to be with you.

He didn't envision you to feel the same way about him. He didn't hate it—he fucking loved it—but he was anxious about you because many people detested him and his entire being. You might have passed into opposition to the hatred they directed at him, but you persisted. You showed him that the feelings you had for him were similar to his feelings for you. So it all began when your mutual feelings of lust, love, and trust began to blossom.

You both agreed to keep it a secret for a while.

Eddie thought it was a good idea.

Until it wasn’t.

Being forced to pretend as though Eddie wouldn't fuck you senseless in your short, skimpy skirt that taunted him each and every time you had to wear it for practice was getting boring. Your smooth, exposed legs—which would look great wrapped around his hips—just made you appear so gorgeous. He could already picture it, and it was enough for him given how hard he already was.

Eddie drew you to his room, his hands firm on your waist and ass, the instant you entered his trailer after practice, calling him with your soothing voice that did wonders for his already crazed head. As Eddie gripped your ass and fumbled with the ends of your skirt while grunting in satisfaction, you gasped in surprise and brought your hands to land against his chest.

“Eddie?”

“Do you fucking realize what you're doing to me?” He brought you to him as you fell on his lap, gasping, and he sighed as he settled on his bed.

Eddie's hands tightened around your waist, sending chills down your spine as you felt how hard his dick was already under your clothed pussy, and you suddenly felt a surge of pleasure and uncertainty. As you squirmed on his lap while you were strangling him, you became aware of what you were doing.

“Yeah,” he breathed out, guiding your hips back and forth against him. “Keep doing that, sweetheart.”

You held onto Eddie's shoulders as he spread his legs out farther and caressed your ass under your skirt with his hand–which were cold and his rings sent shivers on your skin–as you became unexpectedly needy. You liked the sudden pleasure you were experiencing as he bucked his hips against you, which caused you to whimper softly.

He says blearily, “Fuck, sweetheart,” and grabs your jawline with his other hand, forcing you to look into his eyes as he gives you a full-mouth kiss. He then delicately sucked on your bottom lip and continued to caress your ass until it reached your covered pussy, which is throbbing between his thighs.

Eddie brushed his lips to yours and murmured, “I want this off,” gesturing to your underwear as he ran his cool fingers over your clothed slit, making you moan softly.

Eddie stopped you almost too abruptly when you started taking off your skirt, saying in a voice that was almost dark with need, “No, leave the skirt on.”

At first, you didn't understand, but as soon as you noticed the thick layer of hunger in Eddie's eyes, you did. He was usually touchy whenever you wore your cheer skirt, as you remembered. Eddie is overcome with desire, something about the way the fabric rides up to your impeccable thighs catches his attention when you sit down or the way it reveals your silky legs.

He carried you by the hips to turn you around until your back was firmly pressed on his chest as soon as you hurriedly removed your underwear. Eddie's finger immediately stroked your folds before entering without a warning, making you moan in surprise. You could feel how you tensed when Eddie added another finger, and you could feel the coldness of his rings as it added pressure as he swirled his fingers within your clit.

He tenderly nibbled your shoulder and said, “God, you're so wet.” The sensation of his hot breath against your ear made you whine. “My pretty girl is wearing her pretty little skirt. You're fucking driving me crazy.”

Eddie was completely enthralled with you since you were so stunning. The way you grinded yourself against his fingers, letting your juices stain his fingers and rings, was so pleasant. Your face scrunched up in pleasure as his fingers moved quickly against your cunt. And the noises you produced were far better to those provided by guitar strings. Shit, Eddie never once complained despite being utterly consumed by you.

You were so tight and Eddie could feel your walls tightening around his fingers. His need for you was so intensely sparked by your arousal that he worked on his fingers more fast to make you moan in a way that was mesmerizing to his ears. Your skirt riding up to your thighs caught Eddie's attention; you appeared to be like a goddess writhing on his thighs.

“Yeah, just like that sweetheart,” Eddie said, nibbling your earlobe. “You’re doing so good. C’mon, come on my fingers, pretty girl.”

And as you came undone on Eddie's fingers, you let out a loud moan as you sensed your climax approaching.

“Eddie?” you breathed out, face flushed adorably.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“What—what was that all about?”

“Your skirt,” Eddie said, almost breathless. “It drives me crazy.”

Your lips quirked upward as you turned your head to face him and gave him a peck on his lips. “I’ll make sure to always come here after my cheer practices.”

“You’re teasing me,” he deadpanned.

“Maybe,” you grinned.

Eddie said, almost serious, his eyes roving around you with wanton hunger, his other hand stroking your inner thigh. “Next time it'll be my dick instead of my fingers.”

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