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slut4thebroken · 1 month

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Home Improvements

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x wife!reader

Summary | Emmett does yard work while you’re outside tanning and you (both) get a little needy.

Warnings | Smut, semi public sex, humiliation, exhibitionism, a lil degradation, breeding, slight age gap, they’re so cute it kinda makes me sick lol.

Words | 1.8 k

Notes | I’ve been wanting to write some consensual Emmett stuff for a while so thank you to the anon who sent an ask to @kiss-me-cill-me who ended up tagging me🤭

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

(Ignore the fact that idk how lawn mowers work lmaooo)

You were laying down on a lawn chair in your favorite bikini, sunglasses on and book in hand, but you weren’t reading anymore. You were completely focused on Emmett. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open and his already short sleeves were rolled up a little, showing even more of his muscles and tattoo in a way that made your mouth water.

When you noticed he was standing still, you forced yourself to pay attention and realized he was looking at you. “What?” You called out. The engine of the lawn mower was still on, but it was quieter now that he wasn’t moving it.

“I asked if it’s too loud.” Your heart fluttered a little— he’s always so considerate.

“No it’s okay. Thank you for checking though.” You were out here first so of course he wanted to make sure he wasn’t disturbing your tanning/reading time.

You continued watching him. Occasionally he’d stop and remove his hat to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but he was getting through it pretty quickly, much to your displeasure.

“Hey, Emmett?” You yelled, hoping he heard you with how far he was. He paused, turning toward you, and when you waved him over, he obeyed instantly.

“Yeah?”

“Aren't you kind of hot? It’s like 80 degrees out today.” You said casually, confusing him.

“A little, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Maybe you should take your shirt off. Feeling the breeze really helps.” You suggested, glancing down at your mostly nude body to show that you weren’t completely bullshitting that excuse. He chuckled quietly and shook his head a little, looking away from you with a small smile.

“Sure, baby.” You knew that he knew exactly what you were doing, but you didn’t care. You got what you wanted and that’s all that matters. He started unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, then tossed it onto the second lawn chair. Since he already knew, you decided to close your book and put it on the small table in between both chairs.

“You know, it also might help if you work a little slower too. Going fast means using more effort, and that means getting hotter quicker.” You knew it was grasping at straws and completely cheesy, but he scoffed a laugh and played along.

“Good point. Any other suggestions?”

“None that don’t involve public indecency.” You said teasingly and he chuckled again before walking back over to the lawn mower to continue. You could see now that his torso was glistening with a light sheen of sweat, only getting you more worked up.

There was something so incredibly hot about watching your husband do completely mundane, domestic tasks like mowing the lawn and barbecuing. He also had a really bad habit of doing home self improvements… so at any given time, there was at least one part of the house that was unfinished. The plus side to his love of home diy’s was that he’d build you things for the house, like extra storage in a weird space where nothing could really fit, or a new table after you accidentally spilled paint all over it and couldn’t get it off.

You frowned when he turned the lawn mower off and started walking over to you. “It looks amazing, honey.” You smiled, shamelessly eyeing his body as he sat down on the chair next to yours. You offered him your glass of ice water which he took eagerly, gulping down more than half of it in one go. “You know, I think you deserve a reward for doing such a good job.” Honestly, it was more a reward for you being able to sit here for half an hour without jumping his bones.

“You hate when I’m all sweaty.” You could tell that he wanted whatever you were offering though.

“Yeah… but that just gives us an excuse to have round two in the shower.” You smirked and his lips curled up into a small smile.

“Come here.” He said as he laid back in the lawn chair, letting you climb onto his lap. His hands settled on your hips as you took off your glasses and his hat before finally kissing him. Your arms draped over his shoulders, letting you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. When he pulled back, you whined quietly. “I don’t think I can do yard work while you’re tanning anymore. I’ve been hard since I walked out here.” You choked out a laugh, then started grinding on his bulge, making his breath catch in his throat.

“I agree. I’ve been wet since you started mowing.” You leaned down to kiss him again, still grinding your hips, and his hands dragged up your sides to cup your breasts, making you moan quietly. When he pulled your bikini down to rest below them, you let out a gasp that turned into a mewl when he leaned forward and sucked your nipple into his mouth. “Fuck- Emmett…” You said through a breath, tightening your grip on his hair. “People might see.” Even though you were in the backyard that had a wood fence all the way around the perimeter, there was still a chance.

“Thought you said I deserve a reward.” He grumbled, moving to your other nipple to suck and nip at it teasingly. “And I want to fuck my wife on my own property. I don’t give a shit if someone sees.” You knew that wasn’t true. You’d have to stop him from commiting a felony if someone accidentally saw your body because of how jealous and possessive he could be.

“I’m gonna be pissed if we get in trouble with the HOA.” A few years ago, you never would’ve imagined that you’d be married, living in a suburban house, worried about the HOA. Despite your words, you started snaking your hands down his chest and stomach to his belt. You managed to unbuckle it, even with how close your bodies were, then you opened his pants and took out his cock, stroking him to full hardness.

“Fuck.” He hissed, kissing up your chest to your neck, then sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a mark. “Need you, doll.” He whispered, hips bucking up toward your hand, desperately seeking out your tight, warm cunt. Since you were just as desperate, you quickly pulled your bikini bottoms to the side and sunk down on his cock, making both of you moan. You sat down on him completely, then paused, needing to let yourself adjust.

When his hands snaked around to your back and tugged on the string of your bikini, you gasped and tried to keep the fabric from moving away— at least with it below your breasts, you could quickly cover yourself if needed. Emmett didn’t seem to care about that though as he pulled it over your head then threw it somewhere to the side.

“Fuck..” You said through a breath. The risk was making you infinitely needier and as you continued to get more turned on, you started to care less about someone possibly seeing.

“Come on, baby. Give me my reward.” He gruffed. As if your body was completely under his command, you started rocking your hips, warming yourself up a little. You cried out when he suddenly slapped your ass. “You know what I want.” His voice was much harsher now, making it clear that this was a demand, not a request. So you started bouncing up and down on his lap, forcing moans out of both of you. “That’s it… Be a good little wife and use that greedy cunt to please my cock.” He groaned, slapping your ass again before moving his hands up to grope your tits. You were starting to sweat now as you panted, quickly heating up from the exertion.

Getting bolder, he suddenly reached for the strings on both hips, then quickly pulled to untie them. “Emmett..” You warned— being completely nude was way too risky.

“We can move this to the front yard if you’d prefer.” He threatened, making you falter. When you gave up on trying to stop him, he smirked and removed the fabric, leaving you fully bare. “What would people say, honey?” He murmured mockingly. “If they knew that you liked riding me in public, in broad daylight, without wearing any clothes.”

“Emmett…” You whined, his words making you needier.

“Oh, I know, baby… I know.” He cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear and cupping your cheek. “You can’t help being a whore, but it’s okay because you’re my whore. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” You mewled, desperately moving your hips, chasing your release.

“Say it.” His hands settled on your hips and he held you still, then started bucking up into you.

“I’m your whore, Emmett.” You whined with a blush. He moved one hand to smack your ass as a warning, then immediately put it back on your hip. “I’m your whore!” You cried out, much louder this time. “Fuck— please make me come.”

“Wait just a little longer, doll, I’m almost there.” He said breathily, tightening his grip on your hips almost painfully and bucking up into you so fast, you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. Your breasts were moving embarrassingly with how hard he was pounding you, only furthering your humiliation… which only brought you closer to the edge.

“Emmett.. please, I can’t hold it.” You whimpered, clinging to his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

“Go ahead, sweet girl…” He said through a breath. “Come for me.” You reached down to rub your clit and when your orgasm crashed over you, Emmett quickly lifted a hand to cover your mouth, muffling what would’ve been a mix of a scream and a moan. You stared down at him with furrowed brows as your body trembled with each wave of pleasure that rolled through you.

He cursed under his breath when your orgasm made your cunt squeeze his cock almost too tight, sending him over the edge as well. You only had to endure the overstimulation for a few seconds while he continued bucking up into you, riding it out. His grunts and breathy moans were creating a new pool of arousal in your stomach, but he was done before he could get you worked up all over again.

When he relaxed his grip, you accidentally sunk down all the way, making you both wince from the sensitivity. You were still panting and Emmett was in a similar state, but he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck and pulled you down into a kiss anyway. It was short, but still deep and passionate, leaving you even more breathless.

“I’m going to look into building higher walls for the fence so you can start tanning naked.” His lips were curled up into a poorly concealed smirk. “Just so you don’t get tan lines, obviously...” He said coyly, making you laugh.

I think I want to write more for them cause I really like their dynamic so send me some ideas <3

#emmett smut #emmett a quiet place #emmett x you #emmett x reader smut #emmett x reader #cillian murphy

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devildomditzy · 1 year

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Pacts - Mammon x MC

Part 3

Haven’t Read The Beginning? : Part One - Part Two

Tag list + Author’s Note at the end

Tags: Angst w/ eventual comfort, Mentions of Death/The Fall, Mentions of anxiety/anxiety attacks

——————————————————————————

Okay… Deep breaths. Just like Lilith taught ya.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

IN!!!!

“Mammon, what’s wrong! Hey, Mammon, come on, come back to me.”

If only the simple snapping of your fingers in his face and the feeling of you grabbing his shoulders could bring him down from the panic he was now feeling.

This should be easy. He can remember another time, a simpler time, a time long gone by. One where his sister still lived and smiled and breathed. One where she taught him things like expressing your feelings and sharing your emotions with others. One where she showed just how important family and friends and lovers could be…

He was never good at it. Of course, that was his own personal opinion. But whenever he did Lilith would smile that blinding smile and glow and tell how much of a natural he was at it.

He’s flirted, sure, he’s put on the charm and picked up various angels and demons and humans and who even knows what to fulfill his more primal desires. He’s taken lovers and partners and been a part of a couple, or thruple…or even quadruple, some of which lasting for years or even decades.

But ever since the fall, ever since he lost his home, his friends, his sister, his life; and was left to pick up the pieces with the other six who swore themselves to damnation for the rest of existence? He can’t say that he’s been interested in another being. At least not like this.

You. You. The human. The stupid exchange student he was unceremoniously shackled to. The one he had no choice but to watch over. The one that seemingly didn’t care that they were thrust into hell. The one that defied his all powerful brothers, whether out of bravery or innocence or down right stupidity. The one that calls him silly for wearing sunglasses inside and hums to themselves when they’re really focused and explores the Devildom with curiosity rather than fear and is too friendly for their own good and looks at him with big, bright, beautiful eyes that nobody has ever looked at him with before and tells him they really like hanging out with him and and and…

Everything stops. Everything goes blank. The only thing Mammon can feel is a weight, one that’s made it’s way around his body. It’s comforting and warm and all consuming and it’s…

He opens his eyes he didn’t realize he had screwed shut, only to find you clinging onto his form, arms wrapped around him. Your face tilts upwards from where it was buried in his chest, your expression painted one of concern.

“Oh god- I mean, oh gosh? I think. Are you okay?”, you question, tone laced with worry. “I have anxiety attacks too sometimes, I know it sucks. Do you need space? Or maybe water? I don’t know how it works for demons but that usually helps me.”

Mammon feels the blush beginning to spread across his face, knowing the position you’re both in looks compromising. He can’t remember the last time he has someone make such a fuss over him, and of course it’d be you, while he’s trying to sort out his feelings no less! You make it extremely hard to think, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy every second you made contact with his skin.

“N-Nah, ‘m good. I guess it’s…just a lot to explain ‘n all,” he mutters, playing with a loose thread he found on your shirt collar.

“Well, then let’s start from the beginning. The pact, right? We formed it like normal, well… as normal as forming a pact with a demon can be, right?

“Right.”

“And the placement of ours… that doesn’t normally happen right- or at least, it hasn’t happened to you?”

“Right. Hasn’t happened to me before, or any of ‘m brothers. I dun’ even think Solomon’s got one there, and he’s covered in ‘em. It’s….rare.”

“Rare? How’s it rare?”

“Well…cause it means somethin’. Somethin’…. important.”

He continues pulling at the loose thread, looking anywhere but you, his face a brilliant shade of red.

“All pacts represent a bond right?”

“Yea.”

“A shared bond? Between the former and formee.”

“Yea.”

“And so a bond formed over my heart means something…else?”

“GAH! DO I HAV’TA SPELL IT OUT FOR YA DUMMY!”

Mammon jumps up from his seat and out of your arms before shoving his hands in his pockets, turning his back towards you. He brings a shaky hand up to wipe his face.

“Tch. Can’t believe ‘m sayin this out loud”, he mutters under his breath, before turning around.

“Human, I…I like ya! Okay! There, I said it, ya happy dammit?!”

It was now your turn to blush furiously, watching as he brings his shoulders up and winces, almost like he’s waiting for something bad to happen, almost like he’s bracing for the worst.

“You…like me?”, you ask, shocked at the bluntness of his confession.

“Don’t make me repeat myself!”

You sit dumbfounded, letting the feeling of his feelings wash over you. He watched the gears turn in your head and thinks that if you think any harder, your brain is going to explode. Ya know, fragile human stuff ‘n all.

“But…Mammon, you said you didn’t like me being around you. You said that it was an inconvenience to be near me. You even said the pact mark was a blemish.”

Mammon freezes. Fuck. For once, the outspoken second born doesn’t have a response. He stares at you, eyes wide and wild, a deer caught in the headlights.

“So, you throw insults at me, tell me to leave you alone, and now you tell me you like me?”

“I-”

“Mammon, what am I supposed to do with that? You constantly treat me like an annoyance, you threatened me my first week here, hell, you just decided it was fine if I was seen with you outside of R.A.D., and now all of a sudden you like me?”

“MC-”

“I…I don’t know what to say, Mammon. Honestly, I don’t know…what you want from me here.”

His fists ball in his pockets as he starts to tremble a little. He bites his lip and turn his head, not wanting to face you for this next part. Even if you denied it due to the hurt he caused, he knew the undeniable truth; It sat right across your chest.

“Ya don’t gotta say anythin’. I already know how ya feel about me.”

“Mammon-”

“No, I do. Ya don’t have to say it. An’ I’m sorry for bein’ a jerk, alright. I just…I can’t…I’ve been…I mean…It’s cuz’…tch!”

He turns again to compose himself. You almost expect him to leave, to run towards the door and walk out, sulking by himself. You can’t say you’d blame him, you’d probably find yourself doing the same if someone responded to you the way you had just to him. Sure, you liked the second born, but he made it so hard with the way he flip flopped his feelings towards you. You don’t have long to mourn the budding friendship you were having with the avatar of greed before he makes his next move.

He shakes his head and turns back to you, his trademark cocky smirk reappearing across his face. There’s an expression in his eyes you can’t quite place, and he steps forward, crouching down to your eye level. There’s a new determination to his swagger, one that makes your heart beat speed up and your body run hot.

“MC, I know how ya feel about me, ‘cuz pact marks only form there if ya both feel the same way.”

Before you could process the thought, his lips are on yours.

You don’t have time to react, he’s doing that for you. One hand comes up behind the back of your head to fist your hair as he brings you closer to him, deepening the kiss, though he still leaves space for you to push him away, enough where if you truly didn’t want this, you could escape his grasp.

It’s tender, you think, the way he holds you. The way his lips move across yours is a softness you’ve never felt before, and it takes your brain a second to catch up and begin kissing him back. As soon as you do, you feel his lips stretch into a smile. This, a stark contrast from the sides of himself he’s been showing you thus far.

After a minute or so, he pulls away from you. “Ya have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that.”

“Based on what you’ve told me”, you muse with smile, “It looks like it’s been…hmm…I dunno…about as long as I’ve been here?”

“Shuddup.”

You can’t help but laugh at his childish reaction. No matter if he was insulting you like a kid on the playground or kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, he was still Mammon.

“So what does the pact mark on the heart mean in scientific terms?”

“Scien-what?”, He gawks, clearly stumped at your question. You stifle another giggle.

“I mean, if I asked what it meant to a teacher or, say, Solomon, what would he say it meant?”

Mammon sighs at the question. You really were gonna make him repeat himself, huh. “It means that I like ya and ya like me, okay?”

You seem kind of bummed at this answer. “Aww, is that it?”, you question.

“Whadda mean is that if? Whadda ya want, it to mean we’re soulmates or somethin’?”

“Does it?”

“…”

“Mammon?”

“…”

“WAIT! MAMMON! DOES IT?”, you wildly smile, eyes bright in shock.

“S-Some old folktales may say-”

“I’M ASKING SOLOMON!”, you declare, jumping out of his arms and speeding towards the door

“Oi! No ya don’t ya little nightmare!”, he screams running after you.

He’d let you win this race, of course he would. And the one after that. And the one after that.

Besides,

He had the rest of your life to catch ya whenever he wanted.

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @someoneunkownforyou @fandomhell97 @crocrafts @dragonageoregons @furblrwurblr @youaskedfurret @simpinginthecorner @astarotha @glitterandgoldfinds @liminalimmortal @bestblob @crow-charlie @hauntedcatnerd @aprilwallflower @ungodlywoes @h2ojuice @nani-nani-nani @cant-sleep-because-anime @zarakem @rawharr @nicksworld0715 @fxllen-sxldier @someoneunkownforyou @lexiekim @darlingsama630 @xiaosalmoundtofu @abadonkori @harujkookie @whatamidoing89 @all-mights-wife @oliemolliever @kamukayakmonyet @zp1cy-tr4n5m4n @toobsessedsstuff @enwriq @emsieeee @just-an-indian-pre-med-student @chaoticjojo @todosteakettle @thepaleghost777 @milkysoobi @hopeannalea @pandaplan18 @cutiepattutiestarlight @mentally-unstable-simp @satanawakenedmyoceans

Author’s Note: Holy shit. Guys. GUYS. LOOK AT THAT MF TAGLIST. IM SO HAPPY SO MANY OF YOU ENJOY MY WRITING THAT MUCH 😭😭😭.

Thank you all so much for your support on this series! I’d love to try to do all the brothers next, or keep expanding on this one via MC’s and Mammon’s relationship as MC continues making pacts with the others. Not sure which I’ll go with! Any suggestions? Would we rather it continue being MC x Mammom as MC bonds with the other brothers, or every brother having their own romance line? Anyway, let me know what you think. Love ya lovelies <3

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libraryofgage · 6 months

Text

Addams Family Steddie Seven

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | ao3 (this part hasn't been added to ao3, yet, but I'll do it when I get the energy for tags lol)

Anyway, I'm back with another Addams Family for y'all fhdjsk

We now get Steddie children! I added little picrews of them at the very end, too! I just think they're little guys (affectionate) ^_^

Anyway, he's a big boi this time too, so you definitely don't see any typos no matter what you think

Dustin

"It's haunted?!"

Steve grins a little as he lets Dart dash into the house before shutting the door behind them. Dart only pauses by Dustin long enough to get a pat on the head before rushing off to explore. "Yep," Steve says, messing up Dustin's hair and meeting Eddie's gaze as a door bangs in the distance.

"Are you sure that's safe? What if it goes, like, full poltergeist on us?" Dustin asks, looking up at them suspiciously.

"I wish he'd go full poltergeist. I couldn't summon one for the life of me," Eddie says, sighing and shaking his head. "There's nothing like blood dripping down the walls to make a place feel like home."

"Okay, this?" Dustin says, gesturing to Eddie with raised eyebrows as he looks at Steve. "This is not making me feel better about the ghost."

Steve snorts and shakes his head, removing his hand from Dustin's hair. "Don't listen to Eddie. Blood is too hard to get off the walls and would mess up the paint. Anyway, Casper lives in the tower, and he likes D&D, so you can include him in sessions and stuff."

Dustin's face does this weird twisting thing as he tries to process the fact a ghost lives in their house and that it likes D&D enough for that to be a significant feature of its personality. He looks up at Steve, squinting slightly. "Like the friendly ghost?" he asks.

"He thinks it's ironic," Steve and Eddie say, perfectly in sync, and Dustin's disgusted expression nearly makes Steve dissolve into laughter.

"You're disgusting," Dustin tells them, rolling his eyes as he picks up one of his suitcases. "Just show me to my room before you start making out."

Steve snorts and leads Dustin upstairs, pointing out the living room, kitchen, D&D room, and guest rooms along the way. He has to grab Dustin's arm to keep him from veering straight into the D&D room, shooting him a look as they head up the stairs. "You can check it out later," he promises.

"I'll give you the grand tour," Eddie says, trailing behind them with a box of Dustin's computer stuff in his arms. "But first, check out the room. Stevie's been dying to know what it looks like."

"I haven't been dying," Steve says, looking over his shoulder to wink at Eddie as he continues, "You'd know when I'm dying, babe."

"C'mon!" Dustin shouts, ducking away from Steve and running up the last few steps. "Stop making everything a weird flirting thing."

"We're in love, Dustin," Eddie tells him, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs next to Steve. "It's only gonna get worse from here."

"I'm moving out. Don't even bother putting the stuff in my room. I'll go live with Mike, instead."

"At least see the room before you do," Steve says, gesturing to the door with Dustin's name on it.

Dustin rolls his eyes and marches over to the door. He throws it open, clearly expecting to see nothing of interest, only to freeze in the doorway, his eyes widening. "Woah," he whispers.

"I knew he'd love it," Eddie says, pulling Steve over so he can see the room is well.

It's at least twice the size of Dustin's old room. There's a loft bed with a desk and lamp under it against the wall to the right of the door. The opposite wall is covered in tools and random parts and wires, all placed carefully on hooks or shelves with a large table underneath. A pair of safety goggles is hung on a nail right above the table, with a little sign next to them that reads in all caps "WEAR THESE!"

Steve almost makes out with Eddie in the doorway of the room for that alone.

The wall with the window has been turned into a cozy area with bookshelves and posters of fantasy maps and cryptid anatomy. A telescope is set up next to the window, which has a clear view of the sky. In fact, it's one of the only windows that isn't blocked by trees from the cemetery. Two oversized chairs are set into a semicircle with beanbags, creating plenty of space for Dustin's friends to come sit and hang out.

"So, you like it?" Eddie asks, setting the computer box on the desk under the bed.

Dustin nods as he drops his bag, rushing over to the work table so he can inspect the tools hanging over it. "This is fucking awesome! Everything I need to make a lich animatronic is here!" he shouts, his excitement so great that he completely misses the equally excited flicker of the lights in the room.

"Language," Steve scolds, more on reflex than anything else.

"Yeah, yeah," Dustin says, waving his hand dismissively as he reaches out and pulls one of the wire bundles down from the wall. "I take back everything I said, by the way, be as gross as you want. I don't even care anymore."

Before Steve can tease Dustin, he's grabbed around the waist by Eddie. "With pleasure," Eddie purrs, dipping Steve and kissing him breathless just inside Dustin's room.

Steve can't help laughing into the kiss, inadvertently letting Eddie's tongue slip past his lips. And then he doesn't really care about laughing, too consumed by Eddie and his hands and his tongue and his teeth and Eddie.

He does, however, start laughing so hard that Eddie almost drops him when Dustin turns around and screeches like a banshee.

Belladonna

Eddie brings their first child home on a wonderfully dreadful day. The sky is unleashing a torrential downpour on the world, lightning cracks and thunder rolls through the clouds, and wind howls across the street. Perfect weather for a Saturday, really.

Steve was ready to spend the first half of the day in the kitchen, trying out recipes Wayne and Grandmama had given him while Dustin sat at the island to finish his homework. In the second half of the day, he'd sit at the piano outside his and Eddie's room and play while Dustin watched TV or worked on the lich animatronic in his room or fine-tuned a new character in the D&D room.

Eddie would be gone for most of the day, trying his level best to get struck by lightning. He's yet to succeed, but that just means Steve gets to cheer him up when he gets home. And the new song he's working on will do just that, especially when he tells Eddie it's composed from the lyrics Eddie wrote in that journal he gave Steve before they started dating.

Yeah, that will definitely cheer Eddie up, and Steve should probably tell Dustin to just order Chinese for dinner because he doubts they'll be leaving the bedroom after that.

The thought makes Steve grin as he pulls out an apple and nightshade pie from the oven, the cloying scent spreading through the room and making Dustin crinkle his nose. He hasn't quite worked up to nightshade, but he's almost there.

"I finished," Dustin says, pushing his homework away and dropping his pencil.

Steve sets the pie on a cooling rack and shuts off the oven. "And that was all your homework?" he asks, dropping his oven mitts and moving to Dustin's side of the island. He leans over Dustin's shoulder, pulling the homework back and skimming over the answers.

It's a sheet of chemical equations, and Steve very quickly realizes he's got no clue what he's looking at. He frowns slightly and hums. "How confident are you?" he asks.

Dustin chooses one of the equations and starts explaining his balancing process. He gets about halfway through before Steve puts a hand over his mouth to stop him. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're gonna make my brain hurt," he says, grimacing when Dustin licks his palm. He pulls his hand away, dragging it on Dustin's shirt to clean it.

"Can I go now?" Dustin asks, looking up at Steve.

Steve sighs and ruffles his hair. "Run along. I think Casper is in the D&D room," he says, his guess confirmed by the slam of a door down the hall. With a grin, Dustin slides out of the chair, shoves the homework into his backpack, and runs out of the kitchen.

Now that he's alone, Steve takes a deep breath and starts cleaning the kitchen. He rinses used mixing bowls and utensils before placing them in the dishwasher, unplugs the mixer, and wipes the counters clean of flour and sugar and nightshade extract.

He's just finished cutting the pie when lightning strikes a tree outside the kitchen window, thunder rolls loudly over the house, the lights surge and flicker, and the front door swings open to slam against the wall with a vigor only Eddie could produce. Steve blinks and looks out the window once more, confirming that it is, in fact, still raining, and leaves the knife in the pie to welcome Eddie.

If he's come home this early, he must have finally been struck by lightning, which means there's something to celebrate.

Steve grins excitedly and heads to the front door only to stop short when he enters the hallway. Eddie is soaked to the bone, which is expected, sporting a huge grin that reveals too-sharp canines with the ends of his hair burnt like he'd (finally) been struck by lightning. He looks like a drenched rat, and in his arms is an equally drenched child that he carefully sets on her feet.

She looks no more than ten and sticks close to Eddie, staring at Steve with silver-grey eyes. Her skin and hair are the same deep black as the calla lilies on the porch, and the hair she's pulled up into two puffs on either side of her head has a similar reddish tinge along the edges. Splashed across the bridge of her nose, cheeks, and forehead are freckles lighter than the girl's skin, standing out because of it.

Eddie smiles excitedly at Steve, practically vibrating where he stands but not moving since the girl is gripping the edge of his shirt. "Stevie! Sweetheart! I'm home!" he says, his gaze flicking between Steve and the girl and unabashedly begging Steve to ask about her.

Steve can't help chuckling. "Welcome home," he says, walking closer and grabbing the towel he'd placed on the coat rack after Eddie left that morning. He crouches in front of the girl and smiles warmly. "Hi, what's your name?" he asks.

She fidgets for a moment, glancing up at Eddie long enough to see his relaxed shoulders and infatuated smile before looking at Steve again and smiling at him. Her right canine is sharper than her left, and Steve feels his heart melt at that sight. "I don't know," she says, shrugging as she steps forward. "I don't like my name much, but I haven't thought of a new one, yet."

"I see," Steve says, unfolding the towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Well, my name is Steve, and you've already met Eddie here. Did you lose your parents?" he asks.

It's not that he doesn't know why Eddie brought a child home. Steve has made no secret of his desire for children, after all. He just has to make sure Eddie acquired the child...well, legality doesn't really matter, but he can't have stolen the child from people who truly care for her.

The girl rubs her cheek against the towel, looking delighted by something so soft, and says, "Oh, I haven't lost them. I know exactly where they are." Her grin widens a bit, and she points down at the floor. "I put them there myself."

Steve raises an eyebrow at her, getting a slightly amused smile. "Did you? How come?"

She sighs, shaking her head as though it's a shame. "They were meanies. I wanted new parents."

"And you met Eddie."

She nods, looking excited as she glances back at Eddie. "He had a big pole to catch the lightning!"

Eddie crouches next to her now, his eyes bright and eager as he says, "It was amazing, Stevie! The moment she walked up to me, I was finally struck!"

The girl nods in agreement, and Steve looks between the two of them as he considers. Her parents are gone (by her own hands, apparently, and Steve feels oddly proud already), and she got Eddie struck by lightning. "Do you have any other family?" he finally asks.

When the girl shakes her head, a few drops of water flying off the ends of her hair, Steve can't help grinning. Something settles in his chest, warm and happy, and Steve nods once. "There's a lawyer in the family," he says to Eddie, meeting his gaze.

"They're perfectly corrupt, too," Eddie agrees.

Steve nods and looks at the girl again. He scoops her up, standing straight and grinning when she squeals with delight. "Welcome home," he tells her, already figuring out the best way to introduce her to Dustin.

----

Exactly two weeks after Steve and Eddie gain a daughter and ask a favor from the Addams lawyer, she chooses her name.

It happens in the kitchen. She's sitting next to Dustin, both of them watching Steve and Eddie make pancakes for breakfast. Eddie is getting the pan ready while Steve is making two batters. One has chocolate chips and will be cooked the first. The other will have chocolate chips and nightshade berries fresh from Flora and Fauna's secret garden at their psychiatric hospital.

"What are those?" their daughter asks, pointing at the jar of nightshade berries.

Steve picks up the jar and shakes one out, placing it in her palm for closer inspection. "They're called nightshade. They're deadly," he says, smiling as he shakes the rest into a black mixing bowl.

"Do they taste good?" she asks.

"I wouldn't try it," Dustin says, leaning closer despite his wary look. "Unless you're like Eddie and Steve, I guess."

"Am I?" she asks.

"Well, you did just fine with the cyanide," Steve reasons, considering the berries for a moment. Finally, he nods once and gestures to the berry in her palm. "You can try it."

She lights up and pops the berry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she swallows. "They're good," she decides, nodding once and looking unaffected by the berry.

Steve decides to give her a few minutes still, just to be sure.

"You know," Eddie says, looking over his shoulder and taking the finished chocolate chip batter from Steve, "they come from a plant with purple flowers."

"Oh!" Dustin says, sitting up straight, "We learned about them in class. They're called Atropa belladonna, or belladonna for short. They're native to, like, Asia and Europe."

"What class did you learn that in?" Steve asks, mixing chocolate chips into the batter alongside the nightshade in the second bowl.

"English. We read some story where a wife poisoned her husband using belladonna. Max said it was very girlboss of her," Dustin explains.

"So, it's a flower and a poison?" Steve and Eddie's daughter asks, studying the jar for a moment before grinning. "I like it!"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, flipping a cooked pancake onto a large plate before pouring more batter into the pan. "Maybe we should get you a cutting."

She shakes her head. "I like the name," she explains.

Steve and Eddie both pause, sharing a look before turning their gazes to her with serious expressions. "Would you like your name to be Belladonna?" Steve asks.

After a few seconds of serious consideration, she nods once. "Yeah, I like it."

Eddie abandons the stove, dropping the spatula in favor of sliding around the island and lifting Belladonna from her chair. "It's perfect!" he tells her, hugging her close and spinning her in a circle. "Our little poison flower!"

Belladonna squeals in surprise, latching onto Eddie's neck as Steve flips the pancakes so they don't burn. "You know we gotta enroll her in school now, right?" he asks, looking over his shoulder just in time to see Eddie throw Belladonna in the air.

"Aww, man, she's too young to get her spirit crushed," Dustin says, leaning forward to watch as Steve slides a few more pancakes onto the plate.

"There's nothing wrong with a good spirit-crushing," Steve says, glancing up when the lights flicker and a cabinet door slams. "See, Casper agrees with me."

"They can't crush my spirit if I crush theirs first," Belladonna says, scrambling her way to sitting on Eddie's shoulders. She drapes herself over Eddie's head, arms hanging in front of his face, and brightly adds, "And by crush, I mean kill."

Eddie grins and grabs her hands, moving them so he can see Steve. "Our daughter is perfect," he tells him.

"She's just like y'all," Dustin says.

"Isn't it great?" Steve and Eddie ask, meeting each other's gaze and laughing when Dustin just rolls his eyes and mutters about them getting grosser by the day.

El stays with them on the weekends. She spends all of Saturday playing with Dustin and Belladonna, switching between the two as she pleases until they've all somehow congregated in the living room to watch true crime videos and judge the criminals. On Sunday, she helps Steve in the kitchen as he preps lunches and dinners for the week and then tends to the plants outside. Eddie sometimes joins them in the kitchen, but he usually ends up doing laundry most of the day.

On this particular weekend, Wayne drops El off with several suitcases next to her on the porch. Steve stares at them for a moment before looking up at Wayne. "Did something happen?" he asks.

"Well, I'm leaving on a world trip," Wayne says, placing a hand on El's shoulder as he continues, "and El would rather stay here than tag along."

"It is the middle of the school year," Steve points out, glancing down when Belladonna pokes her head out the door.

She sees El and lights up. "Oh, perfect! I've got a brand new guillotine from Cousin Wednesday. You got one, too, right? Let's race them!" she says, pushing onto the porch and grabbing El's hand.

El nods and looks up at Wayne. "I will be inside. Please help Steve bring my bags in," she says before grabbing one of her bags (presumably the one with the guillotine in it) and letting Belladonna drag her into the house.

Steve can't help smiling as they pass him, reaching out to ruffle each girl's hair. When they've gone inside, he looks at Wayne. "Where are you planning to go?" he asks.

"I'm gonna start domestic with Area 51," Wayne says, looking excited just to talk about it, "Then I'm gonna hit those Parisian catacombs, make my way to a haunted forest in China, and then circle back to spend a few weeks in the Bermuda Triangle."

"You'd better not pull a Fester on us," Steve jokes.

Wayne sighs, shaking his head regretfully. "Nobody could pull a Fester except him. How do you follow that up? I mean, the grief he put his brother through, it's impressive all right," he says.

Knowing the full story of Fester's disappearance and homecoming, Steve can't argue with Wayne. "Well, maybe you'll get lucky enough to be abducted," he says.

"One can only hope," Wayne says, returning Steve's grin. "Seriously, though, you don't mind watching El, do you? I'm sure Cousin Itt wouldn't mind if it's too much trouble."

Steve waves away his worries. "She's Eddie's sister, which makes her my sister, and she's friends with Belladonna and Dustin. Of course, she's welcome here. In fact, you're welcome, too, when you get back," Steve tells him.

Wayne laughs, pulling Steve into a spine-crushing hug. "I just might take you up on that," he says, patting Steve's back before pulling away. "Now, let's get El's stuff to her room."

----

El already has a designated guest room, and she helps Steve unpack her things in it. Her clothes are already in the closet and dresser, her books and knick-knacks are on the bookshelf, and she's currently setting out her skeleton collection on the windowsill while Steve hangs up her photos of cobwebs.

"Can I invite friends over?" El suddenly asks, looking at Steve as he carefully hammers a nail into the wall.

Steve blinks and looks over his shoulder. She's finished placing her collection and is now sitting on the bed, feet idly swinging over the edge. "Yeah, just try to let me or Eddie know when you do," he says, flashing her a reassuring smile before focusing back on the nail.

As though he's been summoned, Eddie bursts into the room and zeroes in on El. "It's about time!" he says, throwing himself onto the bed next to El. His weight makes her bounce, and she falls over Eddie's stomach, blinking a few times.

"You know," Steve says, putting down the hammer to hang the photo on the nail, "you could've invited her to stay here at any point."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Eddie asks.

"Why was waiting more fun?" El asks him, pushing on his stomach to sit up again.

Eddie grins at her. "Cuz I made a bet with Dustin about how long it'd take, and I won," he explains.

Steve pauses and raises an eyebrow at him. "What did you bet?"

It must be something good because Eddie doesn't shy away from Steve's gaze. Instead, he lights up and jumps off the bed. "Well, Dust-Bunny lost, so he's agreed to babysit Belladonna next Friday," he says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and spinning them to the center of the room. "So, we can go out."

"Like, a date night?" Steve asks, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Whatever you wanna do," Eddie promises, pulling Steve into a dance to music only he can hear. Steve is only a little jealous of Eddie's auditory hallucinations.

"I can also watch Belladonna with Dustin," El offers, watching them from the bed. She has a tiny smile, looking completely relaxed and at home watching Eddie and Steve flirt. "If she dies, it will be in an entertaining way."

Steve snorts, pulling away from Eddie and dropping onto the bed next to El. Eddie follows, crouching in front of them and grinning up at her. "You don't need to babysit, too," Steve tells her, ruffling her hair. "But we'd appreciate it if you make sure Belladonna actually goes to bed on time."

El nods once. "I can knock her out if she stays up too long," she says.

"We have sedatives for that, so no blunt objects required," Eddie says, "They're in the kitchen."

"Can I have a bottle for my room?" El asks.

Steve and Eddie share a look, and Eddie shrugs. "Sure, I'll make some just for you," Steve promises. When El smiles a little wider at him, he pulls her into a hug. "Remember, this is your home now, too. So, just do whatever makes you comfortable."

"Oh," El says, leaning into Steve as she nods, "I'll start putting down traps, then."

Steve makes a mental note to warn Dustin later to watch out for those traps.

Romero

Three months after Belladonna twirls into the house and sets root and two months after El has laid down her final trap, Steve starts rearranging one of the guest rooms. He's not sure why, of course, but he's filled with a sudden and inescapable need for it to be different.

Steve changes the sheets on the guest bed, replacing them with a new, forest green set. He gets a dresser for the room and asks El to carve insects along the sides. The desk stays, but he moves it to sit under the window and replaces the curtains so they're lighter and more easily swayed by the breeze. He gets a bookcase and fills it with odds and ends: a jar of marbles, a comb with a mother-of-pearl handle, a shrunken head Belladonna found on the ground one day, and a collection of buttons, to name a few.

Finally, Steve covers the room in plants, dragging in planters and pots and even a fish tank for an aquatic plant set-up. While he never had a green thumb before, taking care of Nix and spending several hours on the phone with Morticia has given him the skills to make sure the plants thrive. He grows flowers and succulents and wall-crawlers and everything in between.

When he's done, two weeks have passed, and Steve inexplicably feels like the room is just about perfect.

It's just missing an occupant.

----

Someone grabs the back of Steve's shirt, tugging on it until Steve groans and rolls over. He stops once he's facing the edge of the bed, blinking tiredly against the odd glow coming from the kid standing there.

It's the middle of the night, and Steve had been halfway through a dream in which Dart and Nix were waltzing in the backyard, so he can definitely be forgiven for not questioning the child's existence. He just questions what brought the child to their room.

"Wha'z wrong?" he asks, the words slurred together and practically incomprehensible.

Thankfully, the child seems perfectly fluent in half-awake linguistics. "Bad dream," he says, voice soft like the breeze but all-encompassing like the rustle of leaves.

Steve hums softly and reaches out. He picks up the boy, vaguely noting that he can't weigh more than a five year old. The child says nothing as Steve cradles him to his chest and rolls back over.

"Sleep h're," Steve mumbles, placing the boy down between him and Eddie. He keeps his right arm under the boy's head, letting his bicep act as a pillow. And Eddie, somehow, seems to sense a child in the bed in his sleep. He shifts closer, draping his arm over the kid's stomach and then grabbing the edge of Steve's shirt tightly.

The boy settles in, grabbing Steve's other arm to hold like a teddy bear. "Good night," he says, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve smiles and kisses the boy's temple, murmuring a good night in return before falling right back to sleep.

When Steve wakes up in the morning, his arm is still acting as a teddy bear. He tries to pull away, intending to go to the bathroom, but the grip tightens. Steve is about to tell Eddie he'll be back in a minute but pauses when he looks down.

Green eyes meet his, staring calmly. They belong to a little boy, no more than five, with skin so pale it almost has a green tinge and hair so red Steve is surprised the pillow isn't on fire. The boy is pinned under Eddie's arm, looking perfectly content to stay there.

"Uh, good morning," Steve says, his voice rough from sleep.

Before the boy can respond, Eddie hums softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Good morning, sweetheart," he says.

Steve can't help a soft laugh. "I wasn't talking to you, babe," he says.

Eddie opens his eyes at that, zeroing in on Steve first like always before seeing the boy in their bed. "Oh," he says, holding the kid's gaze for a few seconds, "Good morning."

The boy nods to Eddie and sits up, finally letting go of Steve's hand only to hold his arms out. Steve doesn't really think; he just scoops the boy up, cradling him close.

Apparently comfortable, the boy finally says, "Good morning. My name is Romero."

And Steve suddenly knows who he redecorated the guest room for.

----

Belladonna and El don't blink twice at seeing Romero sitting at the kitchen island, a small cup of milk in front of him, when they come down for breakfast. Dustin, however, stops in the doorway and gestures at him while asking, "When the fuck did we get another one?!"

"Okay, first of all, language," Steve says, turning around and aiming a spatula threateningly at Dustin. "Second of all, this is Romero. Now, come sit down."

"Do neither of you find this weird?" Dustin asks, looking at Belladonna and El as he slides into his usual seat at the island. Eddie places a cup of orange juice in front of him, pushing down the bill of the cap he insists on wearing inside before moving on to get drinks for El and Belladonna.

"Nope! I've got a brother now," Belladonna says, grinning as she leans closer to Romero and pokes his cheek.

"You already had a brother," Dustin mutters before taking a sip of his juice.

Belladonna still hears him, so she turns to Dustin. "Yeah, but you're, like, an older brother," she says. "I go to you when I need to bury someone or rig something to blow up. Now, there's someone who can come to me for that stuff."

Dustin blinks, considering for a moment before relaxing. "Well, I guess that's true. Oh, and that music box you asked me to...fix is done," he tells her.

"Thanks, Dustin!" she says, settling in her seat again as Steve slides a plate of eggs in front of her.

"I put ghost pepper on it like you asked," Steve tells her, kissing the top of her head before putting another plate in front of Dustin. "And yours already has ketchup."

He goes back to the stove and finds a cup of coffee waiting for him. "Thanks," he says, pulling Eddie into a quick kiss before pulling away.

Eddie hums and playfully nudges Steve away from the stove. "I can make the oatmeal," he says, gesturing for Steve to go sit at the island, too. "Go bond with the kids."

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. He just takes his seat next to Romero and idly fixes a few fly-away hairs sticking up. "Romero, this is Belladonna, Dustin, and El," he says, pointing to each kid as he introduces them. "Belladonna is our daughter, Dustin is my brother, and El is Eddie's sister."

After a few seconds, Romero looks up at Steve. "Must I call them aunt and uncle?" he asks.

"Nope, you can call them whatever you like," Eddie says, grinning over his shoulder at Romero. "I suggest Dust-Bunny for Dustin."

"Can we please let that nickname go?" Dustin asks.

"No," El says, watching as Eddie pours oats into a pot of warmed milk. "It's amusing."

Dustin groans and shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Hey," Belladonna says her eggs, poking Romero's cheek again, "How come your skin is green?"

"To blend in," Romero says, inspecting his now empty cup with a slight frown. He doesn't ask for more, though.

"Blend in with what?"

"The forest."

Belladonna hums, nodding once like that answers every question and doesn't inspire more, and focuses on eating her eggs.

"You know, we'll have to enroll Romero in school, too," Steve suddenly says, taking a sip of his coffee.

Eddie hums in agreement, pouring oatmeal into bowls before placing them in front of El, Steve, and Romero. "Good point. How old are you, Romero?"

"How old do I look?" he asks, picking up a blue plastic spoon and using it to stir around the oatmeal curiously.

"Around five," El tells him, pouring pitch-black syrup into her oatmeal before passing it to Eddie.

Romero nods. "I'm five."

Steve hums, meeting Eddie's gaze. His husband doesn't seem to have any ideas, either, so Steve tucks this moment away for later, after the older kids have gone to school. For now, though, he pours some honey into Romero's oatmeal and encourages him to give it a try. When Romero's eyes widen slightly at the taste, Steve grins and feels something warm settle in his chest.

Robin

Two weeks into summer, Robin appears on the front porch of the house with her dorm room in bags around her and an impatient expression. Steve has a similar expression when he opens the door. "What took you so long?!" he asks, yanking Robin into a tight hug that she quickly returns.

"C'mon, dingus, you know I had to finish school," she says, digging her fingers into Steve's side and grinning when he jerks away. "Now, show me to my room. I know you've set one aside for me."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn't correct her. He has set a room aside. It's on the first floor. He'd dubbed it Robin's room when he finally spent more than two seconds studying the space and realized it had a perfect view of the house where the married couple likes to argue on the front lawn. They'll offer Robin hours of entertainment.

"Help me carry your stuff," he says, picking up several bags.

As he's shouldering two of them, Belladonna rushes onto the porch and crashes into Robin's legs, grinning up at her. "Robin! What took you so long?" she asks.

"Geez, she really is your kid," Robin says, grinning at Steve before crouching. "As I told Steve, I had to actually finish school."

"I know. I wanted to go set it on fire, but Dad wouldn't let me and Romero said it would draw too much attention."

"Well, set it on fire next time. If anyone dies, they have to give everyone an A."

"That's not true," Steve says, shooting Robin a look before gesturing Belladonna closer. "Here, can you help us carry stuff inside?"

"Okay! I'll take...this!" Belladonna grabs what looks like the heaviest bag on the porch, straining as she drags it inside.

Steve watches her and shakes his head. He looks at Robin and gestures to the final bags on the porch. "You gonna get those?" he asks.

"I can't believe you're making me carry things, Steven," Robin says, huffing as she picks them up. "Me, a guest in your home, having to carry her own things inside."

"One, not my name. Two, you're not a guest, Robin. You're family. And family carries their shit."

Robin rolls her eyes, unable to help a grin as she uses her foot to hold the door open for Steve. She slides into the house behind him, nearly tripping over Dart but managing to step over him at the last minute. "Once again, your name is whatever's comedically appropriate, dingus," she says, sticking her tongue out as they catch up to Belladonna dragging her bag down the hall. "And aww, you called me family."

Steve pauses and looks at Robin, a serious expression on his face. "Of course, you're family, Robin. You're more family than my parents. Living in a house with you was literally my birthday wish when I was 13," he tells her.

"Ooh, kinda embarrassing to admit that," Robin says condescendingly, her face scrunched into a sympathetic smile. It only lasts for a few seconds before she drops it into something more genuine and bumps her hip against Steve's. "But you're my family too, and I'm glad we get to be together now."

"Is this Robin?"

Steve blinks and looks over his shoulder to find Romero standing just behind them. He's gotten used to his son just appearing whenever and wherever he likes. "Yep. Romero, this is Robin. Robin, this is Romero, my son," Steve says, unable to contain a grin.

"Ohhh, this is the famous Romero," Robin says, spinning on her heel and crouching in front of him. They study each other for a few seconds. "Favorite color?"

"Gold. Like honey."

"Favorite food?"

"Dino nuggets."

"Right on. Favorite movie?"

"Friday the 13th."

"Favorite weapon?"

"Crossbow."

Robin nods once and looks up at Steve. "He sure fits right in," she says.

"He's got a way with the electric chair in Belladonna's room," Steve says, a happy pride filling his words.

"I'm sure he does," Robin says, nodding along like she hasn't heard Steve say this before during one of their phone calls. She flashes a grin at Romero, messes up his hair, and then stands. "Okay, show me my room already, dingus."

Steve snorts and nods, leading Robin the rest of the way to her room. "We're planning a big dinner to welcome you," he says, looking over his shoulder at her, "Everyone is gonna be there. Except Casper. He's on vacation."

"Ghosts take vacations?"

"Well, you can't expect him to work 24/7, right?"

Robin considers for a moment before nodding, figuring it would be an unreasonable expectation to have.

----

"The blood doesn't even look real," Robin complains, throwing popcorn at the TV from where she's sprawled on the armchair. He head is resting on one arm while her legs are thrown over the other, a bowl of popcorn and a soda balancing precariously on her stomach.

"It's the first movie," Steve tells her, shifting to lean more comfortably on Eddie's shoulder, "Give them a break." Romero is in his lap, sleeping with his head cushioned on Steve's chest. He'd nodded off a few minutes into the movie, and Steve had started idly running his fingers through Romero's hair.

"But she's right," Belladonna says, pouting as she tilts her head back to look up at her parents. "It's too dark to be real."

"They wouldn't really let the actors bleed," Dustin explains, looking up from his little animatronic long enough to meet Belladonna's gaze, "It's not, like, ethical. And the actors could sue them."

"They have never bled to death before," El decides, frowning from her spot on the floor. Her head is propped on Dart's side, and she's idly playing with a spider she'd found in her room. "They don't look nearly happy enough."

Steve feels Eddie laugh before he hears him, his shoulders and stomach shaking. "It's not even a clever death," he points out, feeding a few pieces of popcorn to Steve, "I wouldn't look happy, either."

"See, when I made these kinda comments at college, everyone looks at me weird," Robin says, nearly spilling her soda over herself and the chair as she wiggles to get comfortable. "Thank fuck I'm around normal people now."

"You think this is normal?" Dustin asks her.

"Yeah."

Dustin blinks and then points at El and Dart. "That's literally a freak of nature," he says, his tone still affectionate despite the words.

"Thank you for the compliment," El says, tilting her head to look at him.

Before Dustin can say he was talking about Dart, Belladonna turns around and pouts at him. The scene on the TV starts flashing, backlighting her in red and white and black. "How come you haven't called me a freak of nature?" she asks.

"It's okay, sweetie," Eddie says, reaching out to pat her head. "You'll always be our little poison flower."

"Besides, being a freak of nature is about your vibes, not your looks," Steve adds, flashing her an encouraging smile.

Belladonna considers this for a moment before nodding and turning back to the movie to watch the character's arm get completely torn off. "The arterial spray isn't accurate," she complains.

"You're all so weird," Dustin mumbles, not bothering to hold back the endeared smile tugging at his lips.

Steve's own smile widens as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and brings it to his lips, playfully biting his palm. "Isn't it great?" he whispers, meeting Eddie's eyes. He gets a semi-feral grin in response, one that shows off sharp canines, and Steve decides they'll simply have to break the bed again tonight.

Tag List!

(Tumblr has a limit, so I couldn't get everyone who's requested a tag, but I did try to get as many as I could)

@estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, @somegirlsomewhere, @imjust-that-shy, @blaqcats-fics, @littlebluejane, @xoxoladyclara, @halfadoginatank

@pjoneedstherapy, @nocturnalgayboi, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @justforthedead89, @gothwifehotchner, @elizbaehth, @angels-dressed-in-blood, @imfinereallyy, @oile-loves-sharks, @carlprocastinator1000, @stxrcrossed186, @spider-boygirl, @epiclazershark, @7shrewsinatrenchcoat

@perfectlymellowthing, @just-a-tiny-void, @nburkhardt, @nailbatandfreak, @sunfloweringstories, @vampireinthesun, @novelnovella, @bookworm0690, @bestwifehaver, @goosesister, @phantomcat94, @martinskis-lydias, @ghostofyourvampiregf, @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

@nerdsconquerall, @dontslayfay, @potato-of-the-lord, @suikatto, @deliriousmom, @code-switcher, @lizard-dyk3, @anonymousbandgirl

Belladonna! (POV: you are Steddie and your daughter is very proudly showing off her new fang)

And Romero! (POV: you have insulted his little bow tie and he is now contemplating ways to get revenge)

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family steddie #addams! eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #eleven stranger things #robin buckley #it's about the found family vibes #and the addams trope of children just fucking appearing outta nowhere actually #where they come from? who knows but they're addams (or munsons) now

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slashingdisneypasta · 10 months

Text

Flirty!MultiVillains x Clueless!Reader || Excerpts / Reactions

Plot: The friendzone is a many splendored thing... not. (You friendzone them) Includes: Candy Pop, Dark Link, Inkubus, Long John Silver, and Oogie Boogie. Warnings: Sexual references!! Derogatory and degrading statements!! These are mostly from the villain’s point of view. Feminine pet names used (Especially in Silver's. He consistently uses 'lass'). Oh also Inkubus may have some sinister intentions... but they are not disclosed and honestly what do we expect. Unedited as of yet. Tagging: @asperol-with-izzy , @disney-android-foundation , @lady-love88 , @marinerainbow , @masqueradeball , @miss_understood , @moxiiscool , @ryantryan6969 , @spookiifi , @thecourtofgraywaves , @yesthetrashbin , and @your-mxnd-is-mxne . Hi all! ^^ Please head the warnings, its meant to be comedic, but Candy Pop and Dark both make some very gross comments 😅 Hope y'all enjoy and have a great day ^^

Candy Pop:

You walk away quickly after that, giving him that sweet kiss on the cheek and saying he’s such a lovely friend to you, and he wonders for a split second whether that was on purpose. “-Excuse me?!?” Surely you know that he wants his hand down your pants? “Hooooold on hold on hold on- “ You can’t be this dumb. Surely! Almost immediately Candy Pop whips around and follows you right down the hall- quickly catching up to you and skipping ahead, walking backwards in front of you, making you smile. “Love! Love, love- what was that last part??”

“I’m glad to have you, Pop.” You grin back, giggling at the befuddled look on his face. It does not clear up.

“Uhuh… as??... “He prompts you carefully, waiving his hand in a ‘go on’ sort of gesture.

“A friend! A wonderful friend.”

“… hah, sorry, again? I just can’t wrap my head around those words. Must be our language barrier.”

Adorably confused, you tilt your little idiot head at him; Eyebrows knitted together. Oh god, he thinks. Are you not joking after all? “Candy Pop, you’re English.”

… Right… okay- “Yes, well, English used to be quite different in my time, right??” Yeah, that’ll do for an excuse. Sure. “Anyway- again?? You love me… as??”

Sighing, you stop walking and reach out to put a hand on his arm; Making him stop, too, and guiding him towards you. Theirs a gentle, concerned look on your face and your touch makes him feel weak, makes the skin under your fingers light on fire, and he just wants to shove you against the wall and taste you under his tongue. All over. But- “Candy Pop. Whatever you’re thinking… stop.” Holy shit you’re not joking!! You’re truly a dumbass!! What is he going to do!?? He wants to shove his tongue in your asshole, so this- he can’t- this won’t- this is just not going to work!?? “You are lovely- to me, at least.” You give a giggle, and its enchanting, you’re enchanting, but he has never wanted to squeeze you more then right now. Even with your pretty hand on his arm and your pretty eyes on him and your pretty voice in his ears. “and I do love you. Believe it, bud.”

Then you give him another soft, maddening kiss on his painted cheek, and leave again. This time he does not follow. This time he’s too gobsmacked.

Slowly he brings a hand up to his mouth, chewing on his nails and staring at the floor… oh my this is a disaster.

Dark Link:

“Mmm, y’know Y/N,” As the movie begins the play, after you’ve opened your jumbo bag of doritos and settled down beside Dark on his bed, he takes the opportunity to throw an arm over you. He’s close, now, just like he likes it, and he can see you stuff your face with artificial cheese in detail, sure, but eh- you’re a cute pig. You pull it off. Good on you. “This is a pretty freaky flick… if you get scared, be free to get cozy with me… BEN’s not gonna be here, tonight.”

At least he better not; Dark paid the little weasel handsomely in Hostess cakes and threatened his little man if he did show up. Tonight is the night Dark makes his damn move on you. A real move. One you won’t be able to write off a joke or just friendly. You’re obtuse, but you’ll get it this time. He’s sure.

… because honestly if you don’t, he’s going to lose what’s left of his ever-loving mind. He may have to fuck BEN, or Jeff, if you don’t get it this time. Any dank, warm hole will do but he hopes it’ll be yours. He’s going insane using his hand and wishing it was you. This trying to fuck you thing, has been an ordeal. He’s actually exhausted. You’re dumb as a box of rocks and he wants to feel you so bad. It’s killing him.

You’re killing him.

“Oh,” You pop a dorito in your mouth, looking at him with those pretty (clueless) eyes. “Where’s he gonna be?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Anyway- “

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah whatever. So like I was saying- “

“Are you sure he’s not coming around?? I’ll wait- “

“New conversation babe. Stay with me. I just want- “

“I have a bit of a crush on him… “You confess then, awkwardly, a nervous look on your face- but also relieved, like you’ve been wanting so badly to tell him this for a while.

… And Dark sputters, losing his entire train of thought entirely and just staring at you; Under his arm, looking adorable and shy, picking at one of the corners of your dorito bag and telling him… what!? The sound of blood curdling screams erupt from the horror movie then, which is fitting. “… C- Uh, c- come again please?”

You look bashful, before groaning and hiding your face in your hands. Dark follows your face with his eyes, not moving because he’s in shock. “You couldn’t tell?? Aghhh, I feel like I act like a total loony tune around him.”

“… Nope, baby, I couldn’t tell… “

“Oh you’re just saying that!”

“No, babydoll, I promise I am not.” … I guess I’m fucking Jeff tonight then. Goddamnit.

Inkubus:

… He feels like he’s being filmed. Leaning back suddenly, Inkubus brushes a few leaf’s from your annoying pot plant aside and glances behind it. Camera crew?? Secret hidden videographers?? Hello??

No?

He looks swiftly back to you, and you’re still gushing! And yes, you are gushing, right now. To him. That is how he would describe it because that is the correct word. You’re positively glowing, right now, and you certainly don’t notice how disorientated he has gotten- almost feeling dizzy, of all the pathetic human ailments, because this has never happened before, things have never gone this horribly wrong-

“- oh sorry!! I’m talking too much, aren’t I??” Inkubus watches you tuck hair nervously behind your ear, as innocent as ever, and barely restrains the urge to roll his eyes- or snarl. You’re still completely what he wants, still clean and pure and perfect for his needs. Just your scent puts a sweet taste on his tongue. He can’t… he has to have you. “You don’t want to hear about this… hahah… “

He absolutely can’t believe it. … what are you? If you’re human, which he’s sure that you are, then you shouldn’t be immune to his charm’s. You should be physically compelled. And even if he wasn’t using his powers, you still shouldn’t be able to resist him. He has had a long time to perfect his act, and women - as well men, and everyone else, anyone he wants, - usually fall at his feet. It’s just… the way that it is! Si... What- What- What!?-

But you’re completely in love with someone else. That’s clear.

… But he wants you.

… Taking a deep breath in and rolling his shoulders gracefully, almost totally inconspicuously, forcing himself to calm down, Inkubus pastes a smile onto his face. “No,” He shrugs. “I don’t mind at all- tell me more.” Eugh. “Maybe we can come up with a solution together, hm? Be free to tell me everything… “

It’s been a few centuries since he has played the long game… but here we go~

Ugh… quaint. Truly.

Long John Silver:

... Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery, please. Morphie, pal-

The little traitor just jiggles and bubbles in the air behind the lass's head, silently laughing his bleeding backside off after the mortifying kick in the pants that Silver just received from you. Silver glares at the creature, but quickly smoothens his face back out again when you look back at him.

Agh... just keep smilin'. Jussttt keep smilin'... dont be a sore git about this... it was worth a shot at least, it was.

"Y'know lass," Silver finally manages to speak, hating what he has to say. "I didn't know y'had a lad, back home... Y'never mentioned 'im, before now. Promse ya, I wouldnta asked-... well, I cant say that. Lets just say I wouldnt've come on quite so strong, eh? If I'd known." He gives a playful wink, brushing off the awkward moment for your sake. Its not yer fault you aint got room in your life for an old pirate like him!

"Oh, hah. Didnt I?"

No, ya sure didn't. He'd've remembered. "Nope, but that's okay lass... I'm just gonna be a splash heartbroke, now. Probably cry meself to sleep fer a couple nights..." He jokes, rubbing the skin over his heart and watching you cover your face, in sweet sheepishness. Oh, you're cute. Very cute. Whoever's got ya is one lucky bastard. "... But I'll get over it, promise ya."

"Ohhhh," Bashful and sweet as all hell, you peak out from your hand and look all-guilty up at him. Damn, you are a lovely thing you are. "I'm so sorry... "

"Don't even think on it, love. Now- "Clearing his throat, Silver picks up the huge, heavy stew pot in his two strong hands. "lets get the grub out there for those men, unless we want a mutiny on our hands."

Oogie Boogie:

"Wha- Friend!???" Oogie immediately throws his body dramatically backwards, hearing that; A hand to his chest. "You see me as a friend!???"

"Well... "Nodding your head, all-wholesome (Blegh), you confirm his suspicion, making the bugs in his stomach absolutely roll. "Yeah, Boogie!- "

"Friend!???" If he had a heart, he would seize it. My god, wasn't he clear?? What does a guy haveta do around here to get some pretty little tail??? The hell is this 'friend' crap!?

"Yes, Boogie!"

"How doya figure that!?"

"Well... " Now you're starting to look kind of hurt. You?? You hurt??? He's the one who's hurtin' now, doll!! What the heck is goin' on here??? "I- I- I mean, I thought so- "

"Pumpkin! I do like ya- but I don't think ya get what's happenin', here!" When you just tilt your head to the side, like a damn puppy dog (Disgustingly sweet), Oogie facepalms. Satan gimmie strength! "... do I have to be painfully clear with you, sweetbean??~~ "

"... Hm?"

"Oh- " Huff "fine." Suddenly Oogie slips in close to you again, curling an arm sneakily around your waist and yanking you against his front. A dirty old smirk tears across his face as he leans into yours. "... this'll be fun, anyway~ Hehehe... Hold on tight to me gorgeous, we're goin for a ride~ And its all or nothin', so keep ya wits aboutcha okay doll?"

#look. silver's talking style is a WORK IN PROGRESS. i'll get there eventually 😂😂...#he sounds like a very confused old-style cowboy right now aghhhhh XD #MultiVillains x Reader Excerpts #MultiVillains x Reader Reactions #MultiVillains x Reader #MultiVillains #Candy Pop x Reader #Candy Pop Creepypasta x Reader #Candy Pop #Candy Pop Creepypasta #Dark Link #Dark Link x Reader #Inkubus #Inkubus x Reader #Long John Silver #Long John Silver x Reader #Oogie Boogie x Reader #Excerpts

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negans-lucille-tblr · 2 months

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My Worthless Love || Part Six (FIN)

Summary: At first, Dean can’t believe his luck that he gets to date a porn star, but soon the cracks start to show, and Dean gets to see a totally different side to the industry that bursts his bubble and leaves him torn.

Rating: 18+

Part Tags: angst, mentions of breaching limits, self-disgust, shame, embarrassment, mentions of drug use, lack of self worth, major fluff, mentions of rape

Part WC: 2790

A/Ns: Hope you all enjoyed this flangsty mini!

My Worthless Love Masterlist || Find out how to get your own commission here

Your POV

All you can focus on is getting back to the bedroom you’d been using as a changing room. Tears flood your vision as you keep your eyes fixed on your feet, making sure you don’t trip in your rush to escape, your clothes are clutched tightly to your still-naked body. Finally, you see the bedroom door, and let out a shaky exhale, desperate for the privacy the room can give you. You throw the door open without wasting another second and quickly duck into the room. But before you can close the door, your eyes land on someone sitting on the bed, and as you look up you realise who it is.

“Dean,” you choke out, attempting to compose yourself. You clear your throat, your heart racing in your chest.

Your mind is spinning so quickly, you’re not even sure how you feel about the fact that he hasn’t left. When you’d glanced over to where he had been standing not long into the shoot and saw him missing, you’d assumed this was all too much and he’d gone. You’d assumed that maybe he couldn’t handle this after all and had left you. You wouldn’t have blamed him – you hate yourself for it too – and the idea was one of the very reasons you didn’t want him to come to set with you. But you’d trusted him when he insisted that he could handle it.

“You’re still here?” you ask, confused.

“Of course I am,” Dean smiles slightly. “I wasn’t about to leave you here, I wanted to be sure you were okay.” He rises to his feet and begins to approach you, and your entire body tenses. “Are you okay?” he pries, concern painting over his face in an instant.

“Fine,” you lie, attempting to at least act it. “I’m fine,” you repeat, hoping to sound more convincing.

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding to your left hand. You look down, seeing the rag that had been thrown your way once the cameras had stopped rolling and your grip around it tightens.

“Just clean up,” you try to brush him off, hoping if you scrunch it hard enough in your grasp that he won’t see the mess inside. At the very thought, you also clench your thighs tighter together. “I should shower.”

You attempt to move past him towards the en suite, but you feel Dean turn with you.

“Wait,” he calls, placing a hand on your shoulder and stopping you in your tracks. You can feel the tears once again building at the backs of your eyes, and you’re not sure you can hold them in any longer.

“What, Dean?” you snap, glaring at him. Dean frowns, clearly taken aback by your tone, and then swallows hard. “I’m sorry,” you relent with a sigh, “please just let me shower.”

Dean silently releases you, nodding minutely, and so you turn and head into the bathroom, intent on having the water as hot as you can handle, scrubbing until your skin is raw and no trace of Nick is left.

You emerge from the bathroom timidly, not even sure Dean will still be in the bedroom waiting for you. You wouldn’t blame him if he isn’t after the way you treated him when all he’d tried to do is show you some concern. But he is, sitting on the foot of the bed, his head hung low as he plays with his fingers in front of him. He lifts his head when he hears you coming, and the concern he’d looked at you with earlier is still very evident on his face. You’d thought you’d got all your tears out silently in the shower, drowned out by the water and the loud music you’d put on. But more creep in and threaten to leave, and you can’t have anyone looking at you in that way right now, it’s too much.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean finally asks, watching you carefully.

You don’t manage to speak this time, so you just nod, forcing a smile at him before turning your back as you begin rummaging through your bag of clothes for the clean ones you’d packed to change into.

“How was the rest of the shoot?” he pries, clearly trying to make conversation.

“The same as usual,” you half lie, not wanting to think about what had made you so upset in the first place. “You’d have known if you’d stayed,” you counter, hoping to distract yourself with the fact Dean had left instead.

“You don’t think I wanted to leave, do you?” he asks, and you hear the mattress groan slightly as he stands up.

“I don’t blame you,” you argue weakly. “I wouldn’t wanna see how little self respect my girlfriend has for herself if I were you, either.”

“Wait,” Dean insists, once again reaching out for you and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Look at me.”

You drop the clothes in your hand back to your bag and slowly turn around, afraid to look directly in those green eyes, so you look down at your feet instead.

“Sweetheart,” Dean prompts, curling a finger under your chin to lift your head and look at him. “I didn’t want to leave. Marv made me.”

You wonder for a second if you even believe him, but then you think about how irritable Marv was growing every time you fucked up towards the start, and how distracted you’d been until you’d realised Dean was gone. It felt like you couldn’t fully let yourself get lost in your alter ego with him there, and no doubt it showed. So it would make sense for Marv to kick Dean out. The fact Dean didn’t want to leave at least brings you some comfort. Especially when you consider that it was probably a good thing he wasn’t there, especially towards the end.

“Is that why you’re upset?” he pries, frowning.

“Yeah,” you lie, turning around. “But it’s fine, I get it. You were totally distracting me. Marv hates mistakes,” you force a laugh, rummaging through your bag again just for something to do. Your eyes fall on the packet of valium Dean had caught you taking earlier, and you think about how much easier it would be if you took more – the whole lot, maybe.

“So you’re not mad?” Dean checks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“No, I’m fine,” you laugh slightly. “I get it.”

You think it’s finally over, and Dean is going to drop it, so you begin to get dressed, hoping that enough time will pass that you can start acting fine enough that you’ll even start to believe it again. But you can’t stop the shake in your hands, and Dean being so close makes you nervous.

“What’s going on, baby?” Dean implores softly.

Fuck, why can’t this guy be oblivious like the rest of them? Why can’t he just believe a fine, and drop it?!

“Nothing, Dean!” you shout, throwing your t-shirt onto the floor with a huff.

“What happened?” Dean tries again, remaining calm.

It’s no good, you can’t do it.

You can’t turn around and face him, so you look down at your hands, your back to him as you finally come clean.

“It was a bad shoot,” you tell him. Instantly you feel both of Dean’s hands squeeze your shoulders lovingly, and he wraps his arms around you from behind and kisses the back of your head.

“Are they all this bad?”

“No, not like this,” you confess, your heart starting to beat a little harder and faster again. You’ve never had anyone to talk to about this stuff, you’re not even sure you know how to say it.

“Talk to me, you can tell me anything,” Dean encourages you quietly, holding you tighter.

You close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment, formulating the sentence in your mind.

“They ignored one of my limits,” you admit, swallowing hard to keep the tears at bay after your confession.

“What?” Dean asks, his body stiffening behind you. “Did you stop them? Did you say something?”

“There was no point, Dean. I’d already pissed Marv off enough, and I just wanted the shoot to be over.”

“What limit was it?” Dean’s tone is now laced with anger, and you worry you’ve only been thrown out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“He… he came inside me,” you explain weakly. “It’s fine, I’m not an idiot, I’m on birth control, I just don’t like doing it on camera.”

“That’s not the fucking point,” Dean grunts, and you feel him slip away from you. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

You instantly turn and reach out to grab his arm, hoping to stop him in his tracks like he’d done you earlier.

“Dean, don’t, please. You’re going to make it worse if you storm out there.”

“I don’t fucking care! You think I’m gonna let him get away with this? And then make money off of it by putting the video online?!”

You’ve never seen Dean like this before, and while part of you is honored he’s being so protective of you, you also fear what repercussions that’s going to have on you.

“Dean, please,” you beg once more.

“We can’t let them get away with doing this, Y/N. How many other girls have they done this to, hm? How many more?” He clearly knows you well to speak to your empathy towards other girls like you. You sigh heavily. “Has this happened before?”

You don’t want to give him that answer and add fuel to the fire so you purse your lips.

“I’ll talk to my agent, let him handle it. It’s what I pay him for,” you try to reason. Dean clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t protest to your compromise, his body relaxing just a little.

“Fine, but if that dick doesn’t do anything, I certainly will, and next time you won’t be able to stop me.”

“Dick, you promised me that you were going to make sure he got my limits list,” you remind him, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose.

You ignore your boyfriend who is glaring in your direction from the otherside of the couch, knowing that he’s not mad at you, he’s just been unable to keep some form of frown off of his face since the shoot the day before.

“Who are we talking about again, sweetheart?” you hear Dick sigh, “you’re not my only client, you know, no matter how much you act like it.”

“Nick,” you reply, ignoring his slight dig. “He goes by Lucifer, remember?”

“Oh right, yeah,” Dick replies, though you can tell from the tone of his voice he doesn’t actually know who you’re talking about.

“So what are you gonna do about it, Dick? He breached one of my limits,” you reiterate, starting to lose patience.

“Listen, doll, I don’t know why you’re complaining, you got paid extra for it,” he laughs slightly.

“That’s not the fuckin’ point, Dick,” you tell him through gritted teeth. “You’re my agent, you’re meant to make sure I’m safe at shoots like these, and when I’m not you’re meant to fight my corner. That’s what I pay you for. But if you’re not gonna do your fucking job then I might as well leave.”

“Whoa, sweetheart, calm down, I’ll talk to the director, okay? See if he can maybe get you a bit more cash to make it worth it, hm?”

“Jesus, no, it’s not about the money!” you shout, feeling like you’re going around in circles. “You know what? I’m done with you, I’ll find someone else.”

You hang up on him before he can protest, tossing your cell down onto the coffee table in a huff before throwing yourself back onto the couch and covering your face with your hands, utterly frustrated.

“Can I go fuck them up yet?” Dean grunts, and you peer past your hands to look at him, sighing heavily at the heavy glare still set on his face.

“No, the last thing I need is you being arrested for assault,” you try to joke.

It’s silent between you for a moment, until you hear Dean sigh heavily, and when you look over at him, that look of pure anger has dispersed from his gorgeous features, and now he just looks concerned.

“Listen, Y/N,” he begins, clearing his throat and leaning forward on his elbows, playing with his fingers in front of him much like he’d done the day before. “I never wanted to be this guy, and I never wanted to say this… but the difference is, I’m actually saying it for your sake, not mine,” he explains. He pauses for a moment as a small frown pulls at your brow. “I think you should quit.”

“Well I did just fire my asshole agent, so I guess I did,” you laugh slightly. “I’ll find a better one, one that treats me better,” you decide.

“No, I mean… I think you should quit the entire industry.”

“Oh.”

You can’t find much more than that to say as you think about Dean’s words. At first you’re a little angry that he’d try to tell you what to do, like he’s got some sort of control over your life, but then you think about how he’d said he was saying it for your sake and not his. Does he really have your best interests at heart here? Or is he just using this as an excuse to dump all his jealousy and insecurities on you and make you quit?

“What Nick did to you wasn’t right… if anything it was borderline rape. I know he knew about your limits, he mentioned your list to me before the shoot. He knew you didn’t want that and he did it anyway,” Dean reveals, only making you feel worse about the whole thing.

Not that you’re surprised by any means, but you’d tried to excuse it by convincing yourself it was Dick who fucked up and didn’t send your limits, and not Nick choosing to ignore them. While you don’t like Nick and had heard some rumours from other girls, you’d naively hoped he wasn’t as bad as people said, and working with him wouldn’t be a terrible idea; that maybe you’d be lucky.

“And it’s not just what Nick did,” Dean goes on. “The way pretty much every guy in that place looked at you and treated you… it made me feel sick. You don’t deserve that, you’re worth more than that.”

At Dean’s final comment you feel yourself breaking down, shaking your head in reluctance to accept that he might be right.

“No, I’m not… this is it, Dean, this is what I’m good at… this is what I deserve,” you sob out, trying to make him realise it for himself. Until now, you hadn’t really wanted him to, hoping if he didn’t see how unworthy you were of his time and attention, you could keep it a little longer.

“How can you say that?” Dean asks, sliding himself closer to you on the couch. “I don’t know who or what has made you feel like that, but they’re fucking wrong. You’re gorgeous, and you’re funny and smart, and you light up a room just being in it, and you’ve made me happier than I thought I could be. And none of that has anything to do with sex, because you’re more than that, darling.”

You shake your head again, trying to block out his words, not wanting to believe them, because you’d convinced yourself of the opposite for so long.

“Let me prove it to you, let me show you what you’re worthy of,” Dean implores, grabbing your hands in his. “Don’t quit for good if you don’t want to, but just take a break, let me try.”

“I don’t deserve that,” you sniffle. “I don’t deserve so much of your time, Dean.”

“Of course you do, you deserve every second of it,” he disagrees. “Y/N,” he sighs, making sure you’re looking at him. “Let me love you until you learn to love yourself.”

You stare into his eyes, searching for sincerity and finding nothing but just that. He truly believes what he’s saying, even if you think he’s wrong. But you nod anyway, agreeing to his request, because what have you got to lose other than him?

“Okay,” you finally vocalise. “You can try.”

The beam that lights up Dean’s face at least fills you with some comfort that maybe you’re doing the right thing after all. Especially with a guy like him.

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#my worthless love #dean x reader #mini series #dean winchester #smut #angst #fluff #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfic #negans-lucille-tblr

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untitled-writer-013 · 2 years

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The Slashers Lose S/O in an IKEA HCs

Yandere!Poly!Slashers x Fem!Short!Lost!Reader

warning(s): slightly possessive undertones, mostly fluff, crackfic

characters: thomas hewitt, stu macher, billy loomis, brahms heelshire, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, lester sinclair, jason vorhees, michael myers

- (Y/n) had been wanting to get some new furniture for the home they shared with her lovers, since most of their furniture was either too old or too broken to be comfortable to use.

- However, Billy and Stu wanted to tag along, as well as Brahms and Vincent, and soon nearly the whole group of them decided to tag along. (Y/n) did her best to convince them that not everyone needed to go, but none of them were budging.

- After getting most of them cleaned up and dressed relatively ‘normal’, they made it to IKEA, taking separate vehicles since there was no way in hell they all would fit in one.

- (Y/n) decided that they would get done faster if they split up, pairing up the slashers and sending them to different areas to help her look for the things they needed.

- Brahms and Vincent were paired up, as well as Billy and Stu, Bo and Lester, Thomas and Jason, and Michael had decided to stick with (Y/n). They all split up once they were paired up, some of the more clingy slashers complaining about Michael being the one to stay with (Y/n).

- Because the slashers were paired up with one another, they became pretty competitive and were determined to impress (Y/n) the most. If any of them saw another ‘team’, they would act very confident with what they had already picked out and would brag about how much (Y/n) would love what they got for her.

- (Y/n) had needed to use the bathroom after a while of shopping, so she asked Michael to wait for her to finish up before she left. Michael was doing a pretty good job of waiting for her, until he spotted Billy and Stu bickering with Bo and Lester. His curiosity made him forget what he had been doing, tilting his head as he walked over to see what was going on.

- Soon enough, (Y/n) managed to get lost in the large building, anxiety weighing in the back of her mind as she tried to find at least one of her giant boyfriends. When Michael realizes he lost sight of her, he immediately lets the others know, which in turn makes them panic, though most of them wouldn’t admit it.

- Any competition was long forgotten, their top priority being to find their small darling in such a big place. Billy and Stu would check the small food area, wondering if she had gotten hungry, while Brahms and Vincent checked the art area, knowing that she loved to look for new paintings to add to their big home.

- The group of murderers were starting to give up until Jason thought about how she had been talking a lot about getting a new stuffed animal lately, so he signed for the group to follow him, and with having nowhere else to look, they did. They managed to finally spot her sitting in a beanbag, holding a stuffed animal close to her chest as she seemed to glance around, hoping to find one of them by staying in one place.

- Brahms was the first one to run to her, wrapping his arms around her as he mumbled about how worried he had been, while the other slashers quickly joined them. Michael did his best to apologize for leaving her alone, which she accepted without a second thought. Thomas pressed a kiss to the top of her head, cupping her face as he checked her over to make sure she was actually okay.

- Once (Y/n) reassured all of them that she was genuinely alright, she decided that she had had enough action for one day, checking out the things they had gotten before leaving, and the slashers were more than happy to get (Y/n) the stuffed animal she had been holding while waiting for them.

- They finally made it home, most of them moving the new furniture into the house while those who weren’t helping were spending time with (Y/n), Billy and Stu joking around with her while Vincent showed (Y/n) how to make an origami rose.

~fin~

author’s note: i wrote this because i thought it would be funny, was it? i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and be sure to share your thoughts and ideas, i love to know what you all think. i should be posting a prompt list soon, so be sure to take advantage of that! <33

#slashers x reader #billy loomis #stu macher #michael myers #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #thomas hewitt #jason vorhees #brahms heelshire #bo sinclair #yandere slashers #yandere slashers x reader #slashers

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officialchristiancagebbgirlblog · 1 month

Text

2: “try and get some sleep baby”

34: “shh, it’s okay. I’m here now”

Hopefully this is okay, I made it into a sort of nightmare in which the reader wakes up to a caring Christian Cage. Any feedback is appreciated! Hope you enjoy! 🩵

Tag: @brideofinfamy

Warnings: none

Theme: angst and fluff at the end

Word count: 1407

Link to masterlist

Happy reading 🖤

“I know it’s not easy, but try and get some sleep baby.”

For the last few days, you had been really struggling to get to sleep. You weren’t sure where the problem was starting but all you knew is you were sick of sleeping so late all the time. Christian laid behind you, spooning your body while one of his cats happily nestled behind his knees. He mumbled sweet nothings into your hair, trying to help you get to sleep. Even though he was half asleep he still tried his best to get you as relaxed as possible before he drifted off into his own dreams.

“I’ll try, babe…” you sighed, feeling him plant a soft kiss on the back of your head and pulling the sheets higher up on your bodies. You went to say goodnight, but by the time you turned your head towards him, he was out like a light.

The clock by your bedside table read 2:13am. It wasn’t the time you wanted to see at all, having tried for hours to get to sleep. Strangely enough, you were tired enough to get to sleep but your brain was just refusing to shut off for the night. It’s not like you had even done anything crazy that night anyways! At best, you and your boyfriend, Christian, had just had a quiet night cooking dinner, watching a movie. Being in his later years, he preferred to stay in and hang out with his girl. There was nothing he needed to prove to anyone by bringing you out, showing you off to his friends to prove that ‘he’s still got it!’ He didn’t need to prove to anyone that he was still worthy of being loved by younger women. So he chose to spend his nights relaxing with you instead. He knew you didn’t enjoy going out and partying until the early hours of the sunrise, so it never took much convincing to get you to stay home with him.

You envied Christian for being able to sleep so quickly. As soon as you guys had got yourselves tucked in he fell asleep. Snoring away behind you, his sounds were oddly relaxing. They were loud, occasionally a little bit squeaky but it was just enough to help lull you into a restless sleep.

Once your eyes finally closed and you melted into the sheets, you found yourself standing alone in a hallway. Wide awake.

‘Strange…’ you thought aloud, ‘where is everybody?’

Wandering down the hall you could hear faint, illegible voices that went up and down in both tone and volume. Almost like a weird song? You couldn’t quite pinpoint who the voices belonged to but it definitely sounded familiar. Deciding to stop, you pressed your ears against a closed wooden door on your right to see if you could make out what they were saying. But weirdly, as you got closer you heard more voices that made it so hard to hear as you got closer to the wood. They were loud, distorted, and almost angry. But after some head movements, you found the sweet spot on the door that allowed you to make out at least some words. Sadly, though, it might’ve just been better to ignore them.

“She’s just so…and I don’t…why would he go…someone as young as…she’s just in it…for the money…he could do…so much better…”

‘Oh my god,’ you gasped, ‘is…is that what she thinks of me?!’

It took you a moment to figure out who the voice might belong to, and you felt your heart drop when you realised it was one of Christians friends. It could’ve been Shayna, or possibly Beth but you weren’t fully certain on which of the girls. You swallowed thickly, and with a tightness on your chest you continued down the hall. On your left, this time, was a new wooden door. Except this one was painted Green with a little peephole looking into the room. You could see the back of someone sitting, typing furiously on their phone and dictating loudly what they were writing. Whoever they were, they were practically shouting their words of hatred:

“What does he even see in her…why on Earth…date a younger…she deserves to be-“

Quickly and clumsily stepping back, you tried to spare yourself from hearing the end of that sentence. You felt the cool wall slam against your back as you stumbled down to the floor.

‘Oh my god, what’s going on?!’ You thought to yourself, head buried in your hands, body trembling. The tightness on your chest started to feel more like a weight. Like something was sitting on it, hot and kind of fuzzy? It almost felt like it was merging with the inside of your throat. After what felt like forever, you found the courage to lift your head only to be met with an open doorway. Looking in, sat on a lone chair in the middle of an otherwise empty room sat Christian. Staring at you. With no love in his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, just watched as you shakily lifted yourself off the floor to walk towards him. With each step closer, his expression became more sour and angry.

‘Baby, it’s…it’s me. What’s wrong?” You questioned, lips quivering. Still, he stayed silent and unmoving.

‘Please just say something! Anything!’

Slowly he stood from the chair, eyes trained on you with a scowl plastered on his face. He took a step forward towards you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

‘You disgust me…’ he spat out, beginning to shake you violently. With each shake, he shouted disgusting comments at you, spit flying all over your face as he closed the space between the two of you. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t even breathe. The man that you were in love with stood before you shouting abuse at you. Tears streamed down as you stared at his greying face, his cheeks burning a bright red of hatred. Everything felt like it was shaking around you, and you had the odd sensation of being lifted from the ground. But, his voice kept you distracted from everything around you. You barely even noticed his expression soften, his voice suddenly quiet and soothing.

“Hey, wake up!”

Sitting up in a panic, you almost shrieked. The heavy feeling in your chest quickly disappeared as his cat (who was previously cuddled up on your chest) tumbled down into your lap with a gentle meow in protest. She hopped away from the bed, unhappy with the level of respect. Apparently she didn’t much appreciate rolling down somebody's body. Looking around the room that was just barely lit with the lamp beside your boyfriend you realised where you were. Back in the safety of his bedroom. It was just a horrible nightmare. It still didn’t stop your sobs and violent shakes as you fell sideways into his awaiting arms.

“Oh baby, shh. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now…” he mumbled, face buried in your hair, hands caressing your arms. You tried to speak but you just couldn’t get the words out between sobs.

“No it’s okay, sweet girl, you don’t have to say anything. I know you had a nightmare. You don’t have to tell me what happened.”

His reassuring words helped you calm down quicker, his soft hands acting as a fantastic distraction from the sadness. Finally you were able to calm down again. The tears had stopped flowing, the shakes were less violent. But that didn’t stop him from continuing to hold you, rocking you side to side. You looked over to him to see him flash you a warm smile.

“Are you feeling better now?” He held an open bottle of water to your lips, trying to get you to have a few sips which you gratefully accepted. Still feeling too upset to properly talk, you gave him a nod before laying back down under the covers. He placed the water down and turned off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. There was a brief moment of anxiety which quickly washed away as he nuzzled in next to you.

“Th…thank you.” You managed to mutter out, just loud enough for him to hear. Another kiss was given to you but this time on your cheek.

“I’m here for you sweet girl, whatever happens. Try and get back to sleep if you can, okay? I promise I won’t let go of you tonight.”

#aew #christian cage #christian cage x reader #christian cage fanfic #christian cage imagine #captain charisma #christian #christian wwe #jay reso #instant classic

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marshmallowprotection · 9 months

Note

so I was just thinking. of course I love all the mysme characters as love interests, but I feel like one of the most slept-on aspects of this game is the found family dynamic of the rfa. do you have any platonic headcanons of mc just being close to the others in everyday life?

(aka I desperately need a break from all the angst of this game lmao)

Gush over your love of musicals and theater with Jaehee, and if not that, with your special interest that she values just as much as you value hers. What're friends for? She knows what it feels like to need someone in your life who supports you.

You've done that for her all along. So, she wants to do the same for you! The two of you can spend hours talking to each other about anything and everything and your voices are finally heard. Nobody in the world might be able to keep up with you two when it comes to interests, but that's no problem here. Gush to your heart's content.

Get into a heated debate with Zen about the semantics of method acting versus classical acting. It doesn't matter if you understand what he's talking about or not, what matters is that the two of you can laugh about the different approaches that actors take to their roles.

He's tried every method there is out there so if you're curious about the semantics of these things, prepare to be at his acting mercy as his bestie. Jaehee is so jealous of you! You should make sure to remind her to drop by since this is a debate between friends. Imagine how far these silly conversations can go, it might just lead you into tagging along to set one day.

Laugh your heart out when you decide to take on Yoosung's offer to make a meal for everyone. Messy food and zagged lines but that's the least of your concerns. It's not all about making the food perfect. It's about the taste and the time you share. You can tease him about the messy faces he makes on his omurice and he can tease you about the silly additions you add to your half. Laughing and taste testing your snacks before you share it with everybody is a must!

Of course, just be wary of the fact that there are some dishes he simply can't make yet. You do not want to be the test dummy for a soup that turns purple without there having been anything in it to make a purple in the first place. It's okay, just get Zen to be the guinea pig. Now that's a friend that'll take one for the team.

Have a deeply intellectual discussion with Jumin late into the evening hours. As a close friend and his life, he is willing to talk to you about anything and everything that comes to mind. It doesn't matter if he knows the topic or not firsthand, he truly wants to learn and understand more about it.

Most of the time, he could prepare a schedule for the two of you to talk about different things and if you aren't ready for that, you may not know what to think when he shows you an itinerary of the different topics you can talk about through the night. Not only is he learning something but you're learning something as well. The most important thing is that the two of you laugh and it's a nice thing to hear that from your friend.

Play a prank on everybody with Seven. Listen, if there's an opening, he wants to make sure his friends are happy and comfortable. His pranks aren't because he's trying to mask himself, most of the time, he's doing them because he wants to keep his friends on their toes and remind them that it's important to laugh now and again.

That's hard for him to do himself, so, sometimes he has to live vicariously through his friends. It's nice when you tag along for the situation because nobody would ever suspect you to go along with whatever plan he had on hand. Just apologize in advance to your besties in the RFA. He means well and that's the most important thing.

Get lost in a painting with Jihyun as you try to discern the brush, style, and aesthetic in a gallery together. He seems to know anything and everything there is to know about every painting you come across, and while he might have been condescending in his teenage years if you expressed your lack of knowledge in the matter, that's not the man he is today.

The person he is today wants nothing more than to be able to share the experiences of art and the passion that it brings. He was able to find himself in his art again and now he wants to be able to share that experience with other people. Because art is an experience, it's not something that you keep to yourself if you choose to share it. Just, don't get him started on certain topics because he can be so passionate that you'd swear this isn't the soft spoken man you got to know.

Spend your afternoon trimming the leaves and cultivating Saeran's garden as you talk about the world. Have you ever wanted to talk to somebody who is still learning how to take baby steps into the world? Have you ever seen how great it is to be friends with somebody who wants to try everything at least once? Have you ever wanted to listen to somebody admit something that everybody else might be too scared to admit?

That's what it's like when you're friends with him. Being friends with him is like getting to experience something for the first time all over again. Of course, if you really want to tease him, why don't you go ahead and poke a carrot in his mouth and explain why he doesn't get the joke when you ask him "What's up, doc?" That's what being friends with him is like. Of course, you're going to get some free food out of it.

Sit on a porch swing with Rika as you enjoy a sweet tea and think about the world and your place in it. Have you ever had a friend who can sit down with you and talk about a wide array of very vulnerable and personal topics? That would be your relationship with her. It's not something where you're putting the weight of the world on each other, it's more like you finally have someone who knows what you mean when you trail off.

You can complete each other's sentences with a smile. It doesn't always have to be the weight of the world nor does it have to be a conversation where it feels like all you talk about is serious things. Sometimes the two of you are just laughing about a silly puppy video you saw. Being able to sit with her in the sunshine is being able to speak with an old friend known for the longest time and no matter how much time passes, it feels like yesterday.

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causticjuice · 9 months

Text

A Refreshing Distraction — Part 1

Copia x masc!reader

(Part 2 here)

Summary: You convince Papa to go see a movie with you as a break from his paperwork. He still needs some help clearing his mind, and you do so with pleasure.

Notes: Reader is referred to by masculine terms (only in Italian in this part) and wears a cassock (even though they’re a Sibling because fuck the rules in this here satanic church). Their genitals are not mentioned. Also, I know that Copia wears those black nitrile gloves in the chapters but I cannot have that, he’s wearing leather ones.

Tags: SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral sex, car blowjob (while driving), getting caught (sorta, not really)

Word count: 1.6k

ao3

You walk through the corridors leisurely, admiring the intricately carved wooden panels on the walls while making your way to Copia’s office. You know he has been having a hard time with tax season lately and you haven’t seen him in days. It seems strange to you anyway that a Papa would be the one filing his own taxes, but you accepted it. He’s been holed up with those papers long enough, and probably unable to make any progress at this point, so you decided to take his mind off of it for a bit. You heard of a new movie that just started playing in theaters and thought that would be a good enough distraction. It’s your day off and you know Copia will appreciate going at a time when the place isn’t packed. Once you arrive at his door, you give it three rapid knocks and once you hear his voice telling you to come in, you open the door.

“Oh, hello, Fratello! I wasn’t expecting you today,” Copia says, grinning.

“Yeah, well, I haven’t seen you in a while. And I have no duties scheduled today so I thought we could go see a movie together,” you suggest, with a subtle hint of uncertainty in your voice, already anticipating his response.

“Unfortunately, I, uh…,” he gestures to his desk, “need to deal with this now. But I will gladly go another time.”

You pause for a few seconds. You know this work is important but he still needs some time off. You can see his eyes look puffy, even with the paint around them. “I think you’ve earned a trip out to the town for a bit.”

“I do need to finish this, caro,” he insists, while giving you an apologetic look.

You decide to try to convince him to go one more time. “Think about it. I bet you've been sitting there, trying to figure out some little detail and not able to do it, right? Your brain needs a break, Copia.”

He sighs, staring for a moment at the stack of papers in front of him. “Okay, I will go.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll show you a good time,” you smirk.

“Alrighty, give me a moment, hm?” He scurries out of the room after you give him a small nod.

You sit down at the desk and scan over the chaos in front of you. There are at least five different piles of papers, different bowls, plates and cutlery all stacked together and many empty juice boxes, on the desk itself and in the small trash can next to it. You hear an exasperated “damn it” and break out of your trance.

The door that Copia left through opens once again and you see him appear.

“I’m so sorry but it seems that I, eh, have no other clean clothes… I have just been so busy–“

“Oh, don’t worry, you look fine. We’re not going to the Met Gala! C’mon, we’ll be late.”

“A-are you sure? Won’t I stand out?” He asks.

“I will stand out more in my cassock than you will in a tracksuit and T-shirt.”

“Hm… Okie dokie, let’s go.” He gestures to the door, letting you leave first.

On the drive to the theater, you notice that he’s gripping the steering wheel tightly enough that the leather of his gloves is almost constantly squeaking against it, and his jaw is clenched.

“Are you okay, Papa?” you question.

“Ah, sì, sì, just worried about work,” he answers.

“Hmm. Maybe I can help you take your mind off of it?” You place your hand gently on his thigh, slowly moving it higher.

“I’m not sure what you– Oh,” he cuts off as your fingers almost reach his crotch.

“Is that alright? May I continue?”

“Y-yes, please.”

You move your hand up until it is resting over his bulge and lightly stroke. Once you notice he is getting hard, you squeeze a little as you continue your movement. A tiny gasp escapes Copia’s lips and his eyes close briefly.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Papa,” you tease. He clears his throat and straightens up a bit, composing himself.

Satisfied that he will pay attention now, you hook your thumb on the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear and pull them down, letting his cock spring out against his belly. You grasp him and run your thumb over his head, gathering his precum. You can’t stop the urge to taste his arousal and bring the drop to your mouth. Copia glances over at you for a moment as you hum at the taste. Wanting to taste more of him, you dip your head down and run the tip of your tongue directly over his slit, which earns you a shudder.

You start to lick in circles around his head while occasionally pumping your hand over his length. You can feel his toned thighs tense slightly under your other hand and hear his breathing becoming just a little more shallow and rapid. You still the hand working him and lower your head, taking him deeper into your mouth, while reaching your tongue down towards his balls. After a moment of pause, you move up, pressing your tongue against him until you reach the top once again. A low moan comes from Copia, clearly becoming more aroused while also being mildly frustrated at your slow pace. He seems to be letting go of his shy demeanor and letting lust take over.

Just as you start to pick up your pace, you can feel the car slow to a stop and a hand pressed on the back of your head.

“We’re at a stoplight now, topolino, don’t move,” Copia whispers.

The top of his LeSabre is down, so you know it would be plainly obvious to anyone around if you continued. You decide to tease him just a little bit by massaging his balls delicately, not being able to do much more with his cock down your throat and his hand restricting you. The sound that escapes him, a mix of a moan and yelp, is absolutely obscene and not at all what you expected from your gentle action. That’s when you feel his hand grip your hair and yank you off of him. He keeps you just below eye level, glaring at you, completely red in the face. You glance over to his left and see two people in another convertible staring at you with wide eyes. You grin and wave at them with the hand that just elicited that over-the-top response, your face portraying a bizarre mix of mischief and embarrassment.

The car you’re looking at starts driving and you hear a honk from behind. Copia quickly lets go of your hair, grabs the stick shift and starts driving.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He yells.

“What? We’ll probably never see those people again.”

“And what if they know who I am?”

“Then I’m sure this is not much worse than what they’ve seen from you before.” He huffs in response. “What was that reaction anyway? I barely touched you.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!”

You glance down at his crotch and see that he’s still hard.

“You wanna keep going?” You ask.

“You better finish what you started,” he replies, still clearly annoyed at you.

This time, he is much more rough once you start again. You begin with an already relatively quick pace, bobbing your head up and down while keeping a bit of suction. Whenever he doesn’t need to use it for driving the car, he places his hand on your head and shoves you down, all the while grunting and growling. You can tell from a glance at your surroundings that you’re at the part of the road where it is straight and uninterrupted for a while, and you speed up even more. Copia’s hips start to move in rhythm with you and his fingers are now threaded through your hair.

“Cazzo, Fratello–” he growls low in his belly and his hips begin to stagger at the top of his movement. You keep moving your head up and down, committing to memory the blissful feeling of having him fill your mouth up and making him unravel under you.

He tenses up and thrusts one last time as you keep your nose pressed against him and feel his cum spill directly down your throat and into your stomach. You pull off of him just in time to pump one more rope out and catch it on your tongue this time to taste him.

“Hmm, you taste so delicious, Papa,” you moan as you lift yourself up.

Copia only pants and huffs, unable to respond, all of his attention split between coming down from his pleasure and driving the car.

After a moment, you tuck him back into his clothes to the best of your ability, only seconds before he pulls into the parking lot at your destination.

You notice he is still in a dazed state, pausing for a beat too long after stopping the car.

“Everything good?” you ask, and just as you get the words out, he turns sharply towards you and pulls you into an intense kiss, grabbing the back of your neck. After you quickly adjust to the surprise, you deepen the kiss and swirl your tongue against his. As you do, he moans and pulls away.

“Sì, I suppose that does taste nice,” he smiles with a glint in his eye, “that was incredible, tesoro, thank you.”

“My pleasure. Besides, you can return the favor during the movie.”

#my fic #smut #mdni #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa emeritus iv #copia #copia x reader #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #ghost band fanfiction #ghost band smut #copia fanfiction #copia fanfic #my first fic #I have no clue what I'm doing

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sixhours · 2 months

Text

Chapter 5 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

Joel is waiting on your porch holding a large toolbox when you jog up at ten past the hour.

“Sorry, I’m late, got held up.”

He glowers, rumbling in his deep Texas drawl. “I said five.”

“And I said I got held up,” you reply easily, bypassing him to unlock your front door. “The kitchen’s through here.”

He follows with an exaggerated hmph and you resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“There,” you say, pointing up at the kitchen ceiling, a spot just above the cabinets, running down the back wall. “I think there was a leak at some point. Pipes froze, maybe.”

He walks slowly up to the wall and splays a hand against the drywall, testing its solidity. “Bathroom’s upstairs?”

“Uh-huh. Right above this.”

“Sounds like you already know what the problem is,” he says over his shoulder. “Whaddya need me for?”

“I need to make sure the floor in the bathroom is sound. And…I was hoping you could help tear out the old insulation and re-insulate so the pipes don’t freeze again.”

He shakes his head. “I told you–”

“I know, the committee, but I’m sure I can get the insulation for trade, and if you have a few free hours–”

“I don’t.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, hard.

God, he will not make this easy.

“Okay. Fine. But can you at least look at the floor?”

He sighs, “Alright. Lead the way.”

You show him up the narrow staircase and into your bathroom. At the far end, a clawfoot tub and shower take up most of one wall. There’s barely enough room for both of you, so you let him go first. Yellowed stains creep up the floral wallpaper behind the tub, rippling across the floor underneath.

“If you step right here, you’ll see what I mean,” you squeeze tentatively past Joel in the tight space, using your foot to push down on the painted hardwood between the tub and the toilet.

You reach out to pull him toward you by the arm, but he jerks away as if burned by your touch.

“I can get it. Get outta there.”

You slide back out, hands up in mock defense, letting him take your place. He frowns at the dip in the wood when his boot puts weight on it, then stands up, hands on his hips, staring at the ceiling.

“Is there an attic in this place? Should check–”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’ve been up there. Just a bunch of junk. No water damage.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re sure? ‘Cause if there’s rain gettin’ in, there’s no point in fixin’ the floor until the roof is sealed up.”

“I’m sure. So...you think it’s safe, or…?”

“Only one way to find out,” he says, reaching for the toolbox and retrieving a hammer. He drives the claw into the wood and meets little resistance, pulling up on the first board, which bends too readily, like a twig. You wince as he goes back for more, ripping out three, four, five of the narrow oak planks like they were nothing. The subfloor underneath gives way just as easily.

“Yeah, that’s all rot,” he says, digging into the hole he’s made, shining a flashlight into the gap between the floor and the kitchen ceiling. “You’ve got a joist here to support the tub…but it’s half gone.

“You’ll have to take out the wall on this side,” he stands up with a muffled grunt, the sound of a man with sore knees. “Plumbing’s on this wall, prob’ly leaked down from here.”

“Well…shit. I hoped it wasn’t that bad,” you lie.

“Look, if it were me, I’d ask to be reassigned,” Joel says, tucking the hammer back in the toolbox. “No shortage of houses around here.”

“I know. I’ve just…I’ve grown attached to this place,” you say, letting your voice waver. Even better if he thinks you’re crying. “It’s the first time I’ve had a…a real home in a long time, y’know? ”

You expect him to roll his eyes at this overplayed sentimentality, but he doesn’t, just considers you with that unreadable expression. You drive the point home with a shaky, hiccupy little breath.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I can do the work. It’s not gonna be pretty, drywall don’t hold up and we don’t have much. I need time to get the supplies, but–”

“Thank you!” you burst in before he can finish. “I mean, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.” You squeeze his arm, and this time he doesn’t pull away, only flinches.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go usin’ that bath,” he nods toward the tub. “And I wouldn’t use the kitchen until we get the joist replaced.”

“It’s fine. I can shower at the clinic, and I’m no cook.” He scowls as though you’ve given too much information, but you press on. “How can I repay you? Can I buy you a drink?”

“I don’t drink,” he says. He’s already picked up the toolbox and is headed for the stairs.

“Well…think about it,” you tell him. “I owe you one.”

“Right.”

~*~

You thought cornering Joel into helping with your house would give you time to work your way into his good graces, but he doesn’t make it easy. When he’s not on patrol, he’s working on community projects, leaving only a handful of free evenings to focus on your house. You always seem to be working at the clinic during those times, and part of you wonders if that’s his intent.

In the meantime, you try to get information about Ellie through subtle questions of the community. You learn her schedule, and you know who she hangs out with, and where she volunteers, but no one seems to know anything about her past.

Over the next few weeks, you come home to find your kitchen walls stripped to the studs, a steel support post holding up the clean half of the rotted floor joist. The bathroom closed off with a tarp, a note stuck to the blue vinyl.

Mold. Stay out.

He’s left an old plastic joint compound bucket on the floor, the implication clear.

What a gentleman.

He always sweeps up, wipes down the dust, and stacks his salvaged supplies and tools out of the way before he leaves. He takes out the rotted innards of your bathroom in fat black contractor bags.

You occasionally cross paths with him as he’s packing up to go, and each time you try to engage him in conversation, he answers in monosyllabic grunts and makes a wide arc around you to get to the door. Too many evenings like this and you realize you need to step it up, or the project will be finished before you’ve had a chance to learn his middle name. So on a particularly slow night, you feign a headache and leave the clinic in Shiela’s capable hands.

The whine of a saw echoes down the hall as you close your front door. You hear Joel’s low voice talking from the kitchen and you move toward the sound, keeping your steps quiet, feeling like an intruder in your own house. Through the doorway, you’re surprised to see Ellie at his side, both of them crouched over something behind the kitchen island.

“You keep your fingers clear, hand on the grip; no, not like that. It’s not a pistol. Here,” he reaches over and adjusts her grip on the drill. “This is forward. This is reverse.”

“Righty tighty, lefty loosey,” Ellie says. “I got it, I got it.”

Joel grunts. “You want a ninety-degree angle or the screw’ll get stripped. Put some muscle into it–”

There’s a mechanical whirr as the drill springs to life, the grinding of metal on metal. Then from Ellie, “Ah, shit.”

“It happens, try again,” Joel says. His voice is soft, and patient, lacking his usual gruffness.

“Hey–”

The pair startles, standing and wheeling around. You recognize the soft snick of a switchblade opening at Ellie’s side.

“Whoa, sorry,” you say. “It’s just me, I got the night off, I thought maybe you could use a hand–”

“We’re good,” Joel snaps.

“Yeah, I see you’ve got it covered,” you say, turning to the girl. “Hey, Ellie. How’s it going?”

“It’s fine,” Ellie says, shrugs. “I read those comics. They were pretty good. Maybe not as good as Savage Starlight , but still…pretty good, yeah.”

She’s wearing a purple t-shirt and her sweatshirt is piled with Joel’s jacket on the kitchen island. You step forward into the room, eyeing her exposed, scarred arm.

“So…what’s the damage?” you ask, turning to Joel.

He runs a hand through his messy hair, looking up to the ceiling, where the drywall has been torn out to expose the underside of the bathroom subfloor.

“There was mold in the bathroom drywall and the floor’s rotted out about five feet from the wall. The joist’s gonna need to be replaced, but that’s a two-man job. I might be able to talk Tommy into helpin’, but he’s got a new kid so...” He trails off as if he’s offered too much personal information, wiping his hands on a rag before tucking it into the pocket of his jeans.

“This should hold her ‘til we can get a crew in here to replace the joist. But no baths, I don’t trust this thing with that kinda weight,” he says, gesturing to the temporary support.

“You calling me fat?”

“What?” For a moment Joel looks panicked, then he rolls his eyes. “I mean a tub that size weighs a shit-ton and you fill it with fifty gallons of water, you got yourself a problem. It’s a miracle the damned thing hasn’t already fallen through.”

He continues to detail the project status, but your attention drifts back to Ellie, who’s playing with the cordless drill, holding it out in front of her like a gun. This puts her arm on full display, and now you’re close enough to see the snaking, vining cordyceps blisters under the skin, the imprint of someone’s dental work in the flesh.

“I won’t have the insulation ‘til next week, Tommy says there’s some extra up in the rec center but god knows what condition it's in. Salvage runs don’t usually turn up anything worth a shit…”

There’s no mistaking it; that’s an infected bite…

No wonder FEDRA wants this kid , you think, a cold seed of certainty planting itself in your stomach.

Suddenly Joel is in your face, stepping between you, pushing you back. “Ellie, go home.”

“But–”

“ I said go home .”

“Fucking hell, man,” Ellie huffs, snatching her sweatshirt off the counter and stalking out of the room.

He waits until you hear the front door slam before he speaks, slowly and deliberately cutting his words. “I know what you’re doing,” he growls, still standing too close; you can feel an angry heat coming off his body, the faintest kiss of his breath on your face, and your back is inches from the wall.

You hate to admit it, but you’re almost turned on.

“And what is that, exactly?” you counter. “Treating your kid? Trying to get to know my neighbors? What exactly am I doing that’s so fucking objectionable, Miller?”

He seems taken aback at your sudden venom, the use of his name. There’s a glimmer of sorrow in his eyes, but it quickly turns dark. “She’s not your friend. We don’t need no friends,” he hisses, the Texan drawl thick with agitation. “Just…back off.”

You gape at him, barking a laugh. “Wow. You’re a piece of work, you know that? Does this moody, macho-bad-boy thing go for everyone? Or am I just that fucking special?”

“I’m…” he starts, swallowing hard. You wait for the rest, but it doesn’t come. He scowls, and you feel him edge back. The rush of cool air between your bodies should be a relief.

He doesn’t clean up, doesn’t grab his tools, just shoulders his way around you and out the door.

You seethe, barely containing a sudden urge to break your fist on the wall while pretending it’s Joel’s stupid face. You settle for a few deep breaths, unsure if you’re truly irritated with him, or with yourself for letting the arrogant asshole get under your skin.

The headache you were supposedly faking has manifested behind your eyes, and you don’t fall asleep for a long time.

~*~

He’s standing on your front porch in the morning, blocking the doorway as you’re leaving for the clinic. He jumps, caught off guard when you open the door and find him there, looking lost.

“What–”

“What are you–”

You speak at the same time, cutting each other off.

“I live here,” you say, feeling a fresh prickle of ire reseat itself in the pit of your stomach. “What’s your excuse?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I…yeah.” Joel rubs at the back of his neck, visibly agitated. There’s a long silence before he finally mutters, “I wanted to apologize.”

Another long pause.

“By all means, go ahead,” you prompt.

His eyes narrow. “...what?”

“You said you wanted to apologize, but I didn’t hear an apology,” you smirk, knowing you’re being pedantic, but it feels too good to watch him squirm.

He gapes, mouth opening and closing for a few delicious seconds before he huffs. “Whatever. Need my stuff.”

He invites himself in, barreling past you and straight toward the kitchen. You follow on his heels. You don’t know you’re going to ask the question until it’s out of your mouth.

“Christ, Miller, why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He’s kneeling, shoving tools and supplies into the toolbox with force, but his head snaps up at your words.

“Shut your damn mouth,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

But you can’t stop yourself. You’ve spent the night tossing and turning, angry at yourself for how much you’ve let this stupid man get to you, and now you have him cornered.

“You get off on being a dick? Is that it?”

He’s suddenly on his feet, crossing the distance between you in two long strides. He’s so fucking close you can feel his body practically vibrating with rage. His eyes bore into yours, lit by an angry flame.

You sneer. “You wanna hit me, big man? Go right the fuck ah–”

His mouth descends on yours before you can comprehend it: The press of lips, the hard clack of his teeth, the scrape of stubble against your chin. Rough and hungry, almost needy, the kiss shocks you into a numb silence.

Your hands come up to his chest, pushing him away, too stunned to speak. You’re both breathing hard. He licks his lips, watching you, something unknowable flicking across his face before he turns, grabs his toolbox, and walks out.

What…the fuck.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, to make sense of this strange and abrupt shift, when you hear his boots thudding on the hardwood floor. He re-enters the kitchen and looks at you, flushed and contrite.

“I shouldn’t’ve done that,” he says roughly. “That’s not–”

You don’t let him finish. You turn and grab him by the collar of his flannel, throwing yourself against him, meeting his ferocity with your own. You kiss him with tongue and teeth and bite, pleased when he doesn’t pull away when his hands find your hips and dig into the soft flesh.

That’s more like it.

You tug at his belt buckle with skilled fingers and have it off before he knows what’s happening. He moans into your mouth when you bite his lower lip. You soothe the nip with your tongue, diving in, tasting him.

“Fuuuuck,” he hisses, hands fumbling at the waist of your scrubs. You help, undoing the front tie, letting the soft fabric slip down your legs. You anchor your arms around his neck and he takes the hint, pulling you up so you can wrap your legs around him. He turns you both around, slamming your back against the wall hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

More fumbling as he works his jeans down his hips–a challenge with you hanging off him, but somehow you manage. His breath is on your neck, the painful nip of his teeth at the hollow where your jaw meets your ear. Your panties are roughly pushed aside and he’s inside you, thick and hot, too full, too fast. You bite your lip to avoid crying out.

Braced against the wall, he thrusts into you, your head hitting the wall with each thrust. His brow furrows, head down in concentration, and you run your hands down his back, muttering encouragement.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, fuck me,” you hiss, and his hand grips your jaw, covering your mouth, his eyes meeting yours in a silent warning as he punctuates his intent with a hard thrust.

Not a talker, should have known, you think, letting your teeth graze his palm, tasting salt.

You breathe, trying to stay open, to let him use you. A pleasant burn settles low in your abdomen as you get used to his invasion, but you’re barely there, just a vessel for him to fill.

His pace speeds up and you feel the telltale tensing in his back, his neck. Suddenly you’re unmoored, almost dropped, sliding down the wall. He turns away with a grunt, finishing in his hand. The emptiness between your legs throbs, half pain, half unsated desire.

There’s a long silence as the proverbial dust settles in around you. You feel a happy surge of triumph. After days of trying to breach his stony exterior, he’s finally in your territory.

“Miller–”

“I’m clean,” he says, moving to the sink, turning on the tap. His face is flushed, whether from embarrassment or arousal, you’re not sure, but his eyes are soft.

“Good. So am I,” you say brusquely, plucking your scrubs from the floor, pulling them up, and cinching them at your waist. “So this doesn’t need to be a one-time thing.”

He shakes his head, not meeting your gaze. “I’m not lookin’ for anything.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes as if this encounter was the start of a romance, a prelude to anything but more fucking.

Barely passable fucking, at that.

“Neither am I,” you say. “But I have some experience with…relieving tension.”

This is as close as you’ll come to revealing your hand, letting your real-life identity bleed into this one. Not something you do as a general rule, but under the circumstances, you’ll take the risk.

He arches an eyebrow, and the expression is such a drastic difference from his stony glare that you allow yourself to admit that he’s incredibly attractive. He’s muscled from years of hard labor, hair just on the edge of salt and pepper, and when he’s not scowling, his eyes have a dark, seductive, come-fuck-me look that makes your stomach do pleasant somersaults.

“It’s a trade economy, right?” you continue, moving around him to wash your hands, smoothing loose strands of hair behind your ears. “Consider it a trade for work on the house. Payment for services rendered.”

He doesn’t respond, looks so confused that you have to bite back a smile, but you know he’ll take the bait. The desperation in his eyes, the frantic way he’d pushed inside you–this is a man who hasn’t had a physical connection in months, maybe years.

“Think about it,” you say flatly. “I’m late for work.”

You leave him standing in your kitchen, his belt buckle still undone.

~*~

He has you again two days later. You return from the clinic to find him in the bathroom on his back, wedged between the toilet and the tub. He grunts in acknowledgment when he hears you come in but doesn’t look at you, intent on his work.

“You’re missing a shutoff valve for the shower. I’m not a plumber,” he says gruffly. “But I can do the work if we find the right fitting.”

“Oh?” you feign interest, seeing an opportunity, stripping off your scrub top and tossing it in the hamper.

“You’ve got three different kinds of pipe in here and they’re held together with fuckin’ bubblegum and spit,” he grumbles, as though the shoddy craftsmanship is somehow your fault. “No point in insulating until I clean this up and get the valve in, it’ll just leak again and you’ll be shit outta–”

When he finally sits up and looks at you, you’re standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a bra and panties. The nice ones.

“...luck,” he finishes, lips parting, eyes dark with desire, a catch in his breath. You bite back a smirk.

Men are so fucking easy.

“Wash up,” you say. “I’ll be in the bedroom.”

There’s the brief sound of running water as you wait for him on the bed, then his footsteps over the threshold. He looks nervous, unsure, as though he hadn’t just taken you up against the wall two days ago.

You crawl to the edge of the bed, reaching out to undo his belt, and his jeans, sliding them down over narrow, muscled hips and thighs. He’s already half hard, not bad for a guy pushing sixty. You take him in your hand, watching his lids grow wanton, heavy with lust. You move to take him in your mouth, but he grunts and pushes you back on the bed, gripping your thighs to pull your hips flush with his. He’s inside you before you’re fully ready, and the sensation is more pain than pleasure.

Your hands come up under his shirt, running your fingers over the warm brown skin, the softness of his abdomen in sharp contrast to the hardness between your legs. You feel the edges of a scar.

A bite?

He’s lost in you so deeply, thrusting and churning, hips snapping against yours. He doesn’t notice you pulling the shirt up at first, doesn’t see you run your fingers around the outline of the bright pink, welted crescent.

“Fuck, so fuckin’…tight…”

Not a bite , you think, no teeth marks . Your doctor’s mind is already calculating the possibilities. Stab wound, maybe. Not a blade, too jagged.

He stills as he realizes what you’re doing, eyes meeting yours in furious betrayal before slapping your hands away. He pulls out of you with a low, angry growl, and strong arms flip you onto your stomach, gripping your hips where he’d bruised you yesterday. He re-enters you hard enough to take the breath from your lungs. His sharp, angry thrusts elicit a harsh cry from your throat, and this only serves to make him move faster.

“Fuckin’ whore,” he snarls. “Showin’ off your tits. Think you’re…so…fuckin’...smart…”

“You kiss your kid with that mouth, Miller?”

“Don’t,” he growls, a guttural warning, and you fight the urge to laugh as an almost vicious thrust pitches you forward, your hands splaying in the sheets to keep yourself upright. His fingers thread their way through your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your throat. His hand on your scalp is almost intimate, the way it kneads the tender skin, and you find yourself moaning with pleasure.

Before you can truly enjoy it, he pulls out and finishes with a groan on your back, warm liquid seeping down the crack of your ass.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” you half laugh, half pant over your shoulder.

“What?” He’s pulling up his pants, fumbling with the belt buckle.

“Payment for services rendered.”

He glares at you and huffs an angry breath, but his final word is a whisper.

“Yes.”

~*~

There is a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. You learn more about Joel during these brief encounters than you have the rest of the months you’ve lived in Jackson.

He likes you up against the wall, or on your hands and knees, fast and rough. He never completely removes his clothes, just enough to get the job done, his flannel shirts like armor guarding his heart.

He never undresses you, either, never does so much as pull down your panties, preferring to push them aside.

He likes you to be silent, but he has a dirty mouth. He smells like wood smoke and sweat and gunpowder.

He hasn’t kissed you since that first time. When you try, he pushes you away, turns you around, and takes you from behind. He won’t let you go down on him. Maybe he’s not into that, you know some guys aren’t, but you suspect it’s too personal, too intimate. Too vulnerable.

He never, ever comes inside you.

Somehow you think this isn’t what your superiors had in mind when they told you to find out who this guy’s daughter is, but it’s progress.

“Y’know, you don’t have to pull out,” you say, wiping ejaculate off your stomach with a tissue. You’re tired of washing his come out of your nice underwear, your bedclothes, your hair.

He’s sitting on the edge of your bed, pulling on his boots. You feel him pulling away, as always, and it’s a desperate move to try to keep him just a little longer, to edge your way into the cracks in his stony facade.

He scoffs at this, shaking his head, pulling the laces tight with a snap .

“I know condoms are hard to come by,” you continue evenly, the crisp voice of a practiced physician reciting rote facts, “but there’s no risk of pregnancy.”

He stiffens but doesn’t turn to look at you. “And I’m s’posed to believe that?”

You bristle, surprised to find this lack of trust stings…a little.

“What, you think I want a kid with you? You think I want a kid in…in this ?” you scoff, gesturing outside. “Don’t flatter yourself, Miller. I just hate doing laundry.”

“Accidents happen,” he grumbles, and you get the sense he speaks from experience.

“Was she an accident?” you ask, trying to imagine a younger Joel’s strong, calloused hands cradling the tender skull of a newborn Ellie, but you can’t picture it.

“Ellie? She ain’t mine.”

Oh.

You’ve touched on something, you’re so close you can taste it. What’s more, he doesn't leave immediately. He seems to be lost in thought, defenses down. He’s rubbing absently at his arm, his shoulder, kneading the muscle where his neck meets his collarbone.

“Well,” you say, clipped and final, “I haven’t had a period since I was 25. There are no accidents here.”

He looks at you with an unreadable expression; is that sadness…or pity? You don’t like the feeling it stirs in you, the twist in your gut. You suddenly wish you hadn’t started this conversation, hadn’t bared this much of yourself. It’s sloppy.

He opens his mouth as if to reply, but you’re unable to meet his eyes. You climb off the bed and head for the bathroom. Cold water on your face brings you back to yourself as you wipe off with a rough washcloth, then pull on your jeans and a soft, worn t-shirt.

Fuck. Too close.

By the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s standing in the hall. He looks like he wants to tell you something, and you meet his eyes, silently pleading.

Don’t.

Seconds pass, and you can almost see the moment his expression shutters, closes up, and suddenly he’s Joel Miller again, the neighborhood asshole. He scowls and makes for the stairs.

“You wouldn’t know it,” you say, in a desperate move to regain the upper hand, to find your footing on the roiling ground beneath you.

He stops on the first step but doesn’t turn around. “Wouldn’t know what?”

“That she’s not yours.”

~*~

When he’s gone, you walk up to the attic to check for new transmissions on the recorder.

You follow a straightforward procedure: Play back the tape, log the messages on a notepad, then wipe the tape for next time. You stash the logs at the bottom of one of the boxes of junk in the back of the attic. If someone did find the radio up here, you could get away with telling them it’s a hobby.

She ain’t mine.

His words ring in your ears.

Was the girl kidnapped? She doesn’t act like a victim, but maybe she was taken before she was old enough to understand what was happening. Maybe she has only ever known Joel as a father, and the mother is out there trying to find her. Were you chasing after some petty custody battle?

You brush the idea aside. You can’t imagine why FEDRA would care, and it doesn’t explain the scars on her arm.

You finish your notes and store them for the night, left with more questions than answers.

#the last of us hbo #the last of us #fanfic #fic recs #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel and ellie

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 7 months

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✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . DL;DR - this fic is not meant for anyone under the age of 18 as it contains the following: casual sex with a stranger, one night stands, penetrative/unprotected p in v, oral sex, marking, handjobs/fingering, some dirty talk & the use of petnames. writer does not give permission for her works to be reposted, with or without permission. ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

prompt nine - anonymous sex

character | fandom - rockstar!eddie munson | stranger things

reader | original character - female reader, one night stand /college coed & non -or vague, description.

words - roughly 4.9k

tagging - < taglist here >

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . Eddie Munson is only passing through with his band. He plays a show at your favorite dive bar and the two of you hit it off, spending a sex-fuelled weekend together... ( Pt 1 of 2, possible series later )✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Cleveland, Ohio, 1988

❝ This is a bad idea, Taylor.❞ - the local dive bar 3 blocks away from your college campus is ten times as crowded as it normally is. Up towards the front of the small bar, a makeshift stage is being set up and about the third or fourth time someone bumps into you and spills some booze heavy bastardization of a mixed drink down the front of your favorite shirt, you’re seriously tempted to find the nearest exit, a promise is a promise but to be fair, you didn’t realize that live music would draw more people in.

Especially live music from a band that literally nobody’s ever heard of before.

Taylor grabs you by the wrist and she’s pointing to the makeshift stage excitedly. To the drummer, to be exact. You laugh softly because now it makes perfect sense why she dragged you out tonight.

❝ He’s hot, right?❞ she asks. You laugh softly and take a sip of the drink she’s offering you and as you drag the back of your hand over your mouth, you see him.

He’s every bit of 6’2.. At least. The black jeans he’s wearing are so tight you ponder for a few good seconds as to whether they’re painted on and alternately, how the guy’s even breathing okay.

Your tongue drags over your bottom lip as your eyes linger just a little too long to be decent on the outline standing out against the zipper of his jeans. You actually whine, you don’t realize you have until Taylor starts to laugh softly, watching you as she takes a few sips from the drink after she’s taken it back from you.

Your entire face feels hot and honestly, you’re not sure whether it’s the booze you’ve barely consumed, the fact that the man you’re currently eye-fucking is apparently hung, if outlines are anything to go by and he’s certainly the most gorgeous example of the male species your eyes have ever set sights on..

After you finally manage to tear your eyes off of his lower body, as they drift upwards and you see the defined V of his abdomen -plus a few gnarly scars and a tattoo or two that look pretty recent- peeking out from below the bottom of his cropped black muscle shirt, you gulp. It’s a pathetic attempt to swallow down the lump that’s built in your throat at the sight of this man and also, a pathetic attempt to get your brain unfrozen, get yourself centered and focused again.

And breathing properly, there’s that, of course.

Taylor is standing back, watching you. She’s amused because she’s never seen you this dazed. Especially not over some bad-boy rocker. Preppy law student types, those are all you seem to date.

And it never really works out, she thinks to herself as she continues to watch you as you fuck Mr. Tall, Dark Clothes and Broody Handsome as he sets up for the show, tuning his guitar. Gee, I wonder why. Maybe the preppy law students she’s always hooking up with aren’t actually her type.

By now, your eyes are drifting to his hands. The way long and thin fingers pluck sound out of a Warlock guitar. You’re doing it again, biting down on your bottom lip, which is now accompanied by your thighs clamped tight yet somehow, still they manage to slip and slide off of each other. Taylor clears her throat just as you finally manage to tear your eyes off his hands and the way he plays his guitar and look at his actual face, locking eyes with him.

He’s staring right back. Hard. When he catches you staring, dead to rights, his cheeks darken just a little and he swallows hard, teeth plucking at a very kissable bottom lip as he grins from ear to ear.

There’s something very familiar about him despite the fact that you know for sure you’ve never met him a single time in your entire life. You know it, there’s no way in hell you would’ve forgotten the man if you had met.

He gives this little wave and you want to dissolve into the floor of the bar. Taylor has gone from laughing a little bit to full-on, doubled over laughing. ❝ Girl.. The look on your face right now...❞ she shrugs off the dirty look you give her as you reach for the cup in her hand and shotgun about a third of the mixed drink left inside of it.

The watered down 80 proof still manages to burn from your throat down to the pit of your stomach and you grimace because you’re not really a drinker by any stretch so the sips you’ve taken so far have the tips of your ears on fire.

❝ Oh hush.. He’s.. He’s gorgeous, alright? And I swear to God, I’ve seen him before...❞ you’re biting your thumb as you try to puzzle out whether it’s just him in general that feels so familiar -and why, or whether it’s just the fact that you’re a little tipsy now and he looks like an old god or a breathing work of art.

Taylor shrugs. ❝ They’re not from around here.. According to Nick, they’re from some little pissant town.. Uh.. It’s in Indiana.❞ she rubs her forehead as she tries to remember what the owner of the bar was telling her about the band he’d invited to stop in and play an impromptu live show. She grins. ❝ Hawkins! It’s Hawkins, that’s the town they’re from.. You moved around a lot when you were a kid.. Ever heard of the place?❞

You mull it over. The second it hits you, you laugh and nod. ❝ My grandma lived there. I think we visited her a time or two but we were never in town for long or anything.. Definitely not long enough for me to meet and forget that man up there...❞

❝ I call dibs on the drummer..❞ Taylor butts in and you laugh, shrugging. Swallowing hard as you just happen to glance up at the makeshift stage to find the black clad lead singer watching you. A heat spreads throughout your entire body as the two of you lock eyes. He smirks again, giving you a bold little wink. You give him a sassy wave.

❝ The drummer is all yours, girl. If I had t’ call dibs on anybody, I think it’s gonna be him. He’s as tall as a goddamn tree and I’ll be damned if I wouldn’t willingly die to climb him.❞

Taylor snorts in laughter. She writes it off to the mixed drink you’ve been slamming back since the two of you finally managed to get into the bar because normally, you’re real quiet. Real sweet but also, real reserved. You don’t really let loose a whole lot, this is a huge reason why she decided she was dragging you out to the show tonight, hell or high water.

You needed tonight. She definitely needed tonight. Some live music, a few drinks and a chance to relax, no studying or other adult adjacent bullshit on the horizon until around Tuesday.

❝ What’s so funny? I was being completely serious.❞ you ask, giggling as you reach for the cup again, a pout promptly forming just as soon as you realized that the cup was just about empty. Taylor offers it to you and you take it, finishing off the drink.

Your eyes settle on the makeshift stage all over again just as the lights in the bar go dim. And as soon as you hear that they’re opening with a lesser-known Black Sabbath song, you’re one thousand and one percent sure of it, as sure as each breath you’re taking.

You’re fucked when it comes to this guy. Absolutely fucked. Because he’s the antithesis to your typical type and yet, he had you dripping with just a stolen look or two. And sure, you could lie to yourself and pretend that the reason is simply that you haven’t gotten laid lately. But you know you’d be lying.

This cannot be the trait I share in common with my ma. It can’t! I mean, is it the same as her thing with small time wrestlers, minor league hockey and baseball players though? Oh god, you’re gaping in horror as soon as the thought fully forms and panic sets in as a result, I’m turning into my ma.. Only with bad boy metal musicians.

Regardless of the internal panic, you find yourself humming along, drumming the top of the bar along with Corroded Coffin’s cover of Luke’s Wall.

Taylor’s giggling, stumbling through the lyrics right along with you and at one point, during a pretty high-energy cover of Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin, you lock eyes with the lead singer and he’s staring right back at you. Hard.

The band moves on to a slower ballad after an intro from Mr. Lead Singer that has you giggling and gasping just a little in the same breath because he looks right at you, offering only a shrug and a playful wink, ❝ Bare with us. I normally hate this shit, but..❞ you can feel that slow burning heat rise up from deep within all over again as you instantly recognize the opening part of Poison’s newest release, Every Rose Has It’s Thorn.. Which ironically, is what you’d been telling Taylor it’d be neat to hear them play. She’d been heckling you for the better part of an hour since, trying to get you to shout out the name of the song.

He chuckles as he abandons the stool he’d been sitting on for two songs now and he wanders over, sitting down on the makeshift stage right in front of you. As he smirks at you, you nearly choke on air. He speaks up, addressing the crowd again as the rest of his band continues to provide track backing, ❝ There’s this girl. She’s kinda hot and she apparently likes this glam rock bullshit, so.. We wanna make our girl happy, right?❞

As he sings the slower song to you, you’re squirming in place, thighs so wet they slip off each other even easier than they have been all night already. He’s smirking, you know your face is on fire, you don’t need a mirror to see it, you can feel it in your cheeks, all the way to the tips of your ears. Even your scalp feels a little hot.

He leans in real close when he delivers the last lyric. ❝ Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song..Every rose has its thorn.❞

That has you biting back a helpless whine before you can stop it. Because his voice is a whole other level of velvet, gravel and sex combined perfectly. You can feel it in your bones, you’re never going to hear this song on the radio again without hearing the mysterious lead singer of this little unknown band singing it dangerously close to your face, nearly nose to nose.

He was close enough as he sang to you one on one that you could smell the stench of cigarettes on his breath, mixed with cheap beer and cheap cologne. Maybe a hint of sweaty musk layered underneath. It’s a smell you have the feeling will haunt your dreams long after the show is over and his band has rolled out of Cleveland, onto their next stop of God knows where.

The second the band takes a little smoke break, Taylor’s decided that one way or another, she’s going to at least casually bump into her drummer and say hey. You want to do the same but truth be told, you’re not even a little bit Taylor’s level of brave. So you’re wandering back over to the bar to get yourself a new drink and as you stand elbow to elbow with other people waiting to be served drinks, you feel the exact second someone pushes up into you from behind, a hand resting at the small of your back and somehow, without looking over your shoulder, you know it’s him.

The metal rings on his hand feel cool, smooth and heavy against your heated skin. You swallow hard as your brain immediately forgets how to properly function but you do manage to at least turn so that you’re facing him, staring up at him quietly with your head cocked to the side.

You just thought he was tall up on the little makeshift stage. He towers over you up close and personal. The thought prompts slurring giggles, you’re pretty tipsy at this point. Maybe that’s how you end up grabbing hold of the front of his t-shirt to sort of hold yourself upright when a group of assholes shoves around the two of you and throws your balance off.

His hand settles more firmly against the small of your back and you’re pulled against him a little closer. Eddie’s nose fills with the sweet scent of your perfume and he bites back a groan. Gareth wouldn’t shut the fuck up about him at least introducing himself to you, he came over here with a half-assed plan to do that, figuring that he wouldn’t even get the shot. Now you’re melting against him, looking up at him with those big and pretty eyes of yours as you pop little bubbles with a piece of gum you’re chewing.

❝ Hey..❞ you both blurt it out simultaneously, sharing a laugh right after, ❝ My name’s Eddie.. Uh, Eddie Munson..❞ he introduces himself. You repeat his name and if he thought he was harder than concrete when you were catapulted into him just seconds before, it’s nothing compared to the way his name rolls off your pretty little lips the way it does. Soft and sultry. Dazed as you stare up at him. He chuckles. Drags a hand through sweaty brown frizz, his curls have given up the fight in the heat of the stage lighting and the crowded bar. His fingertips dig against the small of your back when you manage to just barely rub against him because you’re swaying just a little. ❝ I’m __.❞ you introduce yourself and as soon as you’ve told him your name, he’s throttled all the way back into the first month of 6th grade.

Right after he hit Hawkins to live with his uncle Wayne permanently. You moved to town the week right after and for whatever reason, the two of you just clicked. He’d been wondering what happened to you lately..

She doesn’t remember you, man. Don’t bring it up. It’ll fuck up everything. It’s better this way. His mind taunts him with it. You’re staring at him intently, lost in thought. Trying to figure out why you feel as if you should know him, that you’ve somehow met before and yet, the more you try to determine where, the more your mind seems to draw complete blanks.

He chuckles quietly. ❝ It’s nice t’ meet you, __. I think I’m gonna help you back t’ your seat, if that’s alright? Kinda looks like you’re havin a little trouble.❞ he nods to the way you’re swaying as you attempt to stand still and smiles at you.

And given the fact that you’ll do anything to feel his hand on your body again, you nod. Laugh as you pop a bubble with your gum. ❝ I don’t always do this. But yeah. I’m just a little bit tipsy.❞

He snickers. Promptly followed by a gulp or two when you melt into him dramatically, your forehead in the front of his t-shirt. He slips an arm around you and as soon as he spots your best friend chatting up his drummer, he gives Gareth just the slightest ‘I told you so’ smirk because Gareth had been wanting to talk to your friend all night, he just kept talking himself right out of going for it.

You’re settled on a stool in front of the stage and Taylor makes her way back over to you as the band begins to set up to continue the show. The rest of the night goes by in a fun blur, you’re at least 80 percent sobered up by the time they play the last song of the night and sadly, you and Taylor are making your way out the door, assuming that you won’t see either man again.

Neither of you realize just how untrue this is going to prove to be until about five minutes later.

Eddie spots you and your friend as the two of you make your way past, laughing with your arms around each other. Moderately sober but still slurring your words and swaying just a little as you pass by. Eddie and Gareth share a look but neither were planning to do anything until Grant speaks up.

❝ Will you two idiots just fucking go? At least see if they’re gonna be okay t’ get home. Our flight out isn’t until 10 am on Monday.❞

Jeff chuckles, glancing from Gareth to Eddie. ❝ Go! Stop standin around here with your thumbs up your asses! I’ve got a hot phone date with the missus and all Grant’s gonna do is watch shitty hotel porn..❞

❝ Fuck you, Jeff!❞ Grant flips off his friend/bandmate and the two share a laugh. Gareth and Eddie share a look and then suddenly, they’re both running. Shoving through a crowd of late-nighters as they make their way out of all the bars that have just given the 2 am last call.

They spot the two of you before you both duck into the diner you usually stop in after a long night at the bar and they clear their throats from behind the two of you.

You and Taylor share a look before turning around, quick enough that you find yourselves body to body with Eddie and Gareth.

❝ Hey.❞ you mumble softly. He chuckles. Bites his lip as he steps up into you even closer, a hand migrating straight to your hip and gently flexing. ❝ Hey.. Where are you two headin? We uh..❞ Eddie stammers, at a loss for words temporarily. It’s Gareth that speaks up after a few seconds of staring at Taylor, ❝ It’s downtown Cleveland.. Pretty sure neither of you should be walkin back all by yourselves…We thought we’d walk with you, right Munson? Earth to Eddie..❞

He’s using the fact that Eddie’s all sorts of dazed, blitzed by you at the moment to poke fun and be a little shit. He can see Eddie’s eyes flash angrily and he chuckles. Eddie mouths that he’s gonna kick the piss out of him later and Gareth merely shrugs. As this is happening, you and Taylor have kind of backed away and you’re talking amongst each other about letting the two men walk you home.

❝ They’re not wrong, _. This place does get crazy around 3 am and it is two entire blocks back to the apartment.. Besides,❞ Taylor points out, ❝ We need to live a little. It’ll be fine.❞

You’re staring a hole through Eddie Munson. And you smile, nodding in agreement when she makes her point. ❝ We’re totally safe.❞ you observe quietly, eyes glued to Eddie Munson. Taylor laughs and nods. ❝ It’s not like this happens all the time and damn it, I wanna have this experience to look back on one day and cherish..❞

The four of you set off in the direction of your edge of campus apartment building, a steady conversation the whole way there.

Everything feels right. Natural. Like you’re exactly where you need to be in this moment.

You’re even a little excited.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ ･｡ﾟ ───

Bits and pieces of the night before - your bodies tangled together, his head buried between your thighs, the way it tasted when you let him cum in your mouth.. Or the way he held onto your hips while he was fucking you deep and slow, that all comes floating back as you roll away from harsh sunlight. Instead of your second pillow, your head settles against hardness and warmth. Your eyes pop open and as soon as you see Eddie lying there, his mouth open and snoring lightly, you’re wide awake. Trying to remember everything.

Ultimately, you give up and curl into him, slipping your legs between his as you go back to sleep. You’re just happy the night before wasn’t a dream and it really happened and Eddie Munson is asleep in your bed in the light of day.

Eddie’s starting to wake up. At first, he’s content to lie there and watch you sleeping, but there’s only so long he can do that and a few minutes later, when you’ve rolled onto your back again, he decides that he’s going to try waking you up.

Rough lips latch against your neck as he settles himself down into you, soft kisses against your warm skin as he bucks himself against you. He knows exactly what he wants right now. He wants to be inside you again.

❝ C’mon sweetheart...❞ he coaxes, chuckling when it’s met with cute little whines as your eyes flutter open. You stare up at him and yawn. He presses himself down into you a little better. You can feel the way his cock is strained at the confines of his underwear. This makes you whimper, rock yourself up into him. ❝ Want me t’ wake you up?❞ he questions and you give him a sleepy grin, nodding.

The Corroded Coffin t-shirt he’d given you at some point the night before is pushed up over your body and it falls from Eddie’s fingertips to the floor. You fell asleep not wearing any panties, so when Eddie starts to work his way down your body, pausing briefly to drag his mouth over your nipples as he buries two fingers deep in your cunt, you moan his name against the shell of his ear, rocking yourself against the way his fingers move inside you with precision, prodding at your spongy soft spot because he thinks it’s cute when you’re about to cum and you’re pinned beneath him and moaning his name like some kind of prayer.

His mouth works it’s way down your abdomen and the closer he gets to your throbbing sex, the more you come alive underneath him, your nails digging into his shoulders as your legs fall apart willingly. Your other hand catches up in thick brown frizz, tugging, fingers dancing over his scalp. His teeth latch onto your mound and you moan out his name a little louder than you mean to seconds later when he turns his attention from leaving his initial marked in your soft skin to sucking your clit as his fingers fuck into you faster. You tense just a little, toes digging into your bedsheets as you rock yourself over his fingers and moan at the way he’s dragging his tongue in tight circles over your clit.

When his tongue joins his fingers inside of you, you gasp and arch upwards. You tug at his hair all over again, just a little harder and he laughs against your pussy. ❝ Pull harder if y’ need t’, princess.❞ he coaxes as he grabs hold of one of your hips, both holding you in place just a little better and angling so that his face is completely buried in between the soft dough of your thighs.

Your head falls back and you’re begging for release. He pauses to look up at you, your juices dripping off his chin and at the corners of his mouth. Then he’s back at it, bridge of his nose bumping against your sensitive sex as he buries his tongue and fingers inside of you even deeper. You’re rocking your hips against his mouth frantically, seeking any friction you can get. Your orgasm is building real fast, you tense up as he mutters against your cunt ❝ Aht aht.. Not yet, sweetheart.❞

He wants to be buried inside of you again so badly that he’s bucking against the mattress because his cock is hard, it’s getting harder by the second and the more he thinks about how good it felt to be buried balls deep inside of you the night before, the more he wants to do it all over again.

And again. And then again.

He’s dreading the fact that the band has to leave town bright and early Monday morning because he doesn’t want to leave you. It’s dumb, it’s way too soon but something about being with you just feels different.

❝ Jesus.❞ he breathes out against your cunt as his tongue drags over your folds before disappearing inside again, ❝You’re so wet f’ me, sweetheart. Fuck.❞

And he can’t take it anymore. He coaxes you into your first orgasm of the day and then he’s working his way back up your body, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth. He’s glad he fell asleep naked the night before, there’s less clothing to be mindful of. As he settles himself down into you, his mouth crashes against yours. You moan into the kiss as the taste of you fills your mouth. He bites your bottom lip, teeth tugging at soft flesh as the tip of his cock teases at entry, pushing against your sex.

As he buries inside of you, you cling to him, your arms around his neck. You meet his deep thrusts clumsily, whimpering when he starts to move faster and bottoms out, cock scrubbing perfectly against your soft spot. You’re clenching around him, he can feel the way you’re shaking just to try and hold your orgasm at bay. ❝ Gonna cum f’ me, sweetheart? Gonna flood my cock?❞ followed by a chuckle as he noses some hair away from your neck and his mouth latches against your skin.

He’s gotten it in his head that if he has to leave you, he’s going to do it covered in his marks. He wants you to remember how much fun your little weekend was come Monday morning when you wake up to an empty bed.

He doesn’t want to leave, but he knows -or he thinks he knows, that if he stays, it’ll never work out. The two of you are a little too different. And maybe, deep down, he thinks you’re too good for him. Maybe he’s afraid that sooner or later, you’d see that yourself and leave him behind. Maybe he wants you to finish what you came to college to finish. Meet a better guy, settle down.

But the thought of you with anyone but him hurts. He’ll deny it with his dying breath, but he can’t stand the fact that he’s going to leave without goodbye come Monday morning.

He pushes it all out of his head. He’d rather focus on now, this perfect moment. You’re caged in below him, your pussy is clinging to his cock, you’re kissing him so soft and those little whines and moans.. You’re repeating his name like a prayer, over and over. Like he’s the only god you want to worship.

❝ – fuck, oh fuck. Shit, sweetheart.❞ Eddie growls out against your ear as he fucks into you slower and deeper, ❝ Takin me s’ good. Fuck.❞ and he breathes in the fading scent of your perfume before adding in a quieter tone, ❝ Wanna cum so bad, princess. So fuckin bad.. Can I?❞

He’s begging to cum inside you and it’s the hottest -and the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. Your nails dig against his shoulders, crescent imprints left in their wake as you try to meet his hips with yours but you’re clumsy. Drowning in the orgasm that’s threatening to shatter you. ❝ Let go, sweetheart. C’mon, let me feel it. I need t’ feel you, sweetheart.❞

His coaxing is enough. Your orgasm shatters you, leaves you clinging to his body as he fucks you through it and down from the high, straight into his own orgasm a few seconds later. You can feel his hot seed coat your insides and his thrusts come to a slow stop as he melts down into you, pressing his forehead against your tits. Breathing heavy.

❝ Morning, sweetheart.❞ he chuckles as he looks up at you, takes in the fucked out daze you’re in, the way your lips are bruised and swollen from the way he’s been kissing you. And all the marks he left behind.

He’s staring at you as if he wants to commit the way you look pinned below him to memory. You want to ask if there’s any hope for the two of you, if you’re ever going to hear from him again after he leaves town on Monday but you don’t dare. You can’t bring yourself to hear him say this was just a fling because it feels like so much more than that to you.

Things felt too good. Too easy.

He feels like home and you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re going to lose that when the weekend ends and he leaves town.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #( ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ʟɪsᴛ ✓ )#lazyghoulskinktober2023 #🔞ɴғᴡ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪsᴋ.#( ᴍɪɴɪ sᴇʀɪᴇs ; ᴘᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ᴛᴡᴏ )

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vibratingskull · 5 months

Text

Sunny vacations

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22

Tags : Mansion, vacation, pool, bickering, proposing

FemaleReader x Thrawn

You accepted Arzel offer and arrive with Thrawn at his property on Tyrahn. Surely those vacation will be uneventful and restful?

It is an awful idea.

Really…

But you barely had anything to say in that. Or rather it was an unique occasion, albeit a dangerous one.

“We are arriving.” Thawn indicates.

You look through the window. You see a massive mansion with a pool and private domain. Your eyes widen, you didn’t know it would have been this large. It is your first time on Tyrahnn despite orbiting next to it regularly.

“You never came?” He asks.

“No. Never.” You shake your head.

You’re praying everything will be okay.

Your transport lands on a special place, permitting you to get out of the jet. Outside Azrel is waiting for you, fanning himself with his fan and a big smile on his face.

He opens his arms as you step out, pulling you into a hug.

“Welcome my pearl.” He chants.

He grabs the side of your face and kisses you languorously. You gulp. Not in front of Thrawn, you think. You try to pull back and it makes him chuckle. He releases you with a sly smile and extends his hand to Thrawn, holding your waist.

“Welcome Grand Admiral. Thank you for accepting my invitation.”

Thrawn seizes his hand and shakes it firmly.

“Thank you, Governor. I am sure we can put those vacations to profits.”

Arzel laughs.

“You’re never really on vacation, are you?”

“Unfortunately, no. Such as you”

Arzel shrugs.

“Give your luggage to the droids, they will take care of it!”

A droid appears out of nowhere behind your back, almost making you jump how silent it is. It seizes any baggage and rolls away as quickly. Azrel caresses your back.

“Did you travel well?”

“It was uneventful.” Thrawn indicates

Uneventful but not restful. At least for you. You departing from the Relentless and Thrawn from the Chimaera you didn’t cross paths. He surely took a special transport his grade of Grand Admiral permitted him while you took the community shuttle. You then took the same Civilian transport but you took the second class while he took the first, you only realize you took the same once on the platform. You travel together since, and outside polite chatting and necessities you didn’t exchange a word, him as unbothered and haughty as usual and you melting on your seat, almost dizzy. Saying you’re relieved you arrived is an understatement.

“Let me show you around.” Arzell declares.

He makes you visit his mansion, never letting you go. He shows you the domain, the house, its immense living room, home cinema, gym, mirrors room,... Your neck is in pain, constantly looking everywhere , all at once.

“Woaw… You grew up here?”

“I did, my pearl. This house saw my birth, my growth, will probably see my wedding and my death.” His hand slides to your lower back at the mention of wedding.

You feel a burning sensation at the back of your neck, like someone was staring at your back. In a hallway you all three stop, Thrawn admiring the paintings of the family. You look up to it, it is a series of strokes of bright and neon colors. Really modern paintings.

“I came to understand you're an art aficionado, Grand Admiral.”

“Indeed.”

“What can you say about those?” Arzel gestures to them with his closed fan.

“Those are family portraits.” Thawn notes.

Arzel applauds.

“Compliments. You’re absolutely right. Numbers of people take much more time to understand it, even more simply don't believe it.”

“Yet it is clearly apparent.”

“To you maybe. Tell me, my pearl, you who knows me best, which one is my portrait?”

You look dumbfounded at the numerous canvases on the wall. How are you supposed to know that? You take time to observe each and every one of them, trying to find a pattern or a detail.

You look at Azrel that fan himself with an amused gaze, then Thrawn, praying for him to help you but he just looks at you with an indecipherable expression. You look back at the portrait, your mind at max speed.

Then it clicks.

“It is this one.” you point.

Arzel and Thrawn both nod.

“Tell me how you knew?” Azrel asks.

“No. It’s my secret.” You smirk.

It is the same color palette as his favorite fan. Not too complicated, finally. You just have to know the person in question. You look up trying to determine which ones are his parent’s, but he pulls you away.

Finally you're shown your rooms.

“Your room, Grand Admiral, is right here. I made you prepare the largest guest chambers.” Arzel largely opens the double doors.

You take a sneak peak, it is a really large room with a double bed, even an interior fountain and a built in cold pool. The windows are arches that look out onto the gardens. In those high temperatures a cold breeze comes freshen up the room and fly the light white fabric of the curtains.

“I’ve got the King room right over there, and my pearl,” Arzel kisses your cheek. “You obviously get the Queen room next to it.” He shows you around.

Those two rooms are smaller but more intimate and protected from the harsh rays of the sun. Your luggages is already here.

“I propose you take off those tight uniforms and come freshen up at the pool. Roween, I left you a little present on the bed.” Arzel winks at you.

You all get into your own rooms. You take the time to visit a bit, you get a double canopy bed with embroidered covers and pillows, a carved basin with fresh water, a private bathroom with a tub in what looks like white marble, and a little bookcase with some holobooks. You leaf through them, it’s your favorite authors with some holos of the Beleg, you notice a second range and take out a risqué little holos. Also your favorite authors and tomes. You feel your cheeks burning, it makes you chuckle to see naughty holos mixed with holos teaching you to reach the Light. Pretty antinomic. You put them back and look for the present.

It’s a light small baby blue dress, it's soft to the touch and you realize it’s probably both for everyday wear and swimming. Well, everyday wear is maybe a bit much considering how small it is. It comes with a pair of small heels of the same colors. You pass it on and look at you in the large mirror of the room. It hugs your forms perfectly and is super breathable, it’s like wearing a second skin. It’s not your style though. The cut isn’t to your taste. You’re flattening it when your gaze stops on your hands.

You’re wearing the rings.

You look at them. How come two little things like that can bring you so much trouble? Should… Should you take them off? Only one? In this case, which one? Or both… You hid them from Thrawn with the black gloves of your uniforms earlier, but now…

You look into the gift box again and find a matching pair of gloves that run all the way to your higher biceps. That’s not regular… But it prevents you from making a choice and you put them over your two rings. Here! What you can’t see, can’t hurt you!

You shake your head.

You go put the box on the little dressing table and see a load of skin products, moisturizers, oils and ointments. Is Arzel scared for you to get skin cancer or something? It makes you snort with amusement.

You take a tube of sunscreen and two holos. Feeling cheeky you pick one risqué, you’ll read it hidden behind the larger book. You head towards the pool where they’re already taking advantages of the fresh water. You choose a deckchair and install yourself. You hear a whistle coming from Azrel.

“I knew I picked well… But wow.”

You strike a pose and give him a glance from over your sunglasses with a smirk.

“How do you like it, sir?”

Thrawn emerges from the water, shaking his head and ruffling his hair. Water stops at their waist, letting you appreciate their well shaped bodies, water glistening on their abs and pecs. You’re reminded of Azrel’s tattoo that snakes its way to unspeakable places and Thrawn’s broad chest. Your confidence melts like ice in the sun, you suddenly take the whole measure of those vacations. Azrel nods approvingly and turns towards Thrawn with the face of a child receiving a new toy.

“How beautiful is my fiance, Grand Admiral?”

Sometimes Azrel's craving for attention is too much…

“This isn’t her style.” Thrawn simply notes, looking you up and down.

“Of course! I took the liberty to expand her range of clothing!” Azrel smuggly explains.

You shyly sit on the chair crossing your legs to calm down your waking core. It’s hot today but the spectacle in front of you is hotter. Azrel’s peacefully sipping a cocktail leaning against the pool wall, Thrawn’s doing length and your reading, hiding from the sun under a parasol. You take quick glances at Azrel broad shoulders and Thrawn’s athletic performance, alternating with your cheeky reading. You press your legs together when a threesome scene starts.

Your imagination starts running wild.

You feel your cheeks being set ablaze and waves of warmth spread from your bundle of nerves. Your heart starts racing as the caresses described in your holo get more saucy and bold. You start imagining yourself instead of the heroine between her two lovers. Kissing and groping each other. You gulp, imagining Thrawn’s warm hands snaking their way from your thighs to your waist, pulling you against his pelvis in a powerful motion, looming over you like a predator with his burning eyes shining in the night. Azrel caressing and playing with your tits while kissing you. You would moan and mewl under their touches, your body waving against their muscular ones. They would have so much intentions for you, treating you like a queen for one night. Your clit pulsates furiously at the simple thought of their combined caresses. You let a deep sigh escape you.

“What do you might read to hide it like that?” Arzel snatches your holos from your hands with a laugh.

“Arzel, give that back immediately!” You jump on your feet on high alert.

If he reads it you’re done for!

“Her breath got stuck in her throat as he caressed her ass, hooking her panties he slid th-” He didn't get to finish his reading.

You jump on his back trying to catch the holo, he agitates it under your nose laughing. Seeing how you won’t let him be he throws himself in the pool. You cry. The water is super cold! You emerge with a scream.

“Nather Satlove you’re such a kid!”

“That’s why you love me, you would be bored either way.” He chuckles.

He swims swiftly to you and steals you a kiss. His hands snake their way to your ass and grab it. You growl in the kiss with surprise and indignation. Not in front of a guest! Not in front of Thrawn! You think. From the corner of your eyes you see him fixing you both. Arzel lets you go with a pop sound and a satisfied smirk.

At any rate, the cold water helps calm your steamy hot thoughts. You swim to Thrawn, clearing your throat.

“Hmm, I’m sorry for this inappropriate moment.”

“It is his house.” He simply responds.

His tone is a bit harsh, although you don’t exactly know why. Is he wounded in his ego to see his one night partner being cuddled by another man? In some twisted way, it pleases you.

Serves him right!

It’s for all the headache and heart palpitations he gives you.

A droid comes towards the pool.

“Master, dinner is served.”

“Perfect! Let’s go, friends!” Like that he jumps out of the pool

After washing out the chlorine and passing one of your dresses in which you are comfortable you join them at the dressed table in the garden. They are already seated down.

“I prepared you a dress.” Arzel pouts.

You smile contritely.

“I will wear it another day.” You sit down, getting served by the droids.

In front of you Thrawn’s eat in a dignified silence, glancing every one and then to the garden statues and the little ones placed on the table.

“What do you want to do in the next few days? Tyrahn has everything, malls, mountains, lakes, rallys, theaters,” He winks at Thrawn “Museums.”

Thrawn’s attention is immediately catched.

"If you do not mind it I will most certainly do a tour of the museums"

"I knew you would say that !" Arzel laughs. "We should all go to one of them. I'm the Governor of this planet, I can privatize them and give you access to their archives."

"Thank you Governor, but I am not exactly comfortable with the idea of privatizing art and museums" Thrawn dabs his mouth with his napkin.

"You think It should be accessible to all?"

"Indeed, I do."

Arzel scofes.

"Well, we did open them to the masses and they do nothing with it. Who cares about art when you worry about the next paycheck?"

You stop mid-movement. You don't like where this is going.

"I think art is a matter of opportunity and education. Everyone can appreciate art if they are given the right tools." Thrawn tempers.

"Education, that's the problem, my friend." Azrel fills his glass of wine and inhales it "Take the first bumpkin and you will find none. Few are those capable of actually rising above their miserable condition. Only the strong manage to detach itself from the swarming masses." He takes your hand with a thin smile. "Like you, my Pearl."

You smile back, twitching. You're more middle Class than working Class but you get the stab nonetheless. You and Thrawn don't add anything to that conversation, but it looks like Azrel hasn't finished yet.

"And you, Grand Admiral? What's your family doing?"

"My family is complex and consists of multiple backgrounds and walks of life."

"What were your parents' jobs, in this case ?"

You're absolutely mortified, you wish the ground would swallow you whole. Thrawn takes a sip of his drinks, eyes in the void like he's searching in his memory.

"My parents were Factory workers."

"See? And now you're now a Grand Admiral of the Navy. Only the strong and worthy ascend! I am most impressed by those who manage to do it, they are the true winners in this world. The most worthy of praise. But how much fleabags society has to support for only one genius?"

You cough, your bite taking a wrong turn. Would it have been anyone else, they would be strangling Azrel right now. But Thrawn remains calm, unbothered.

"It is interesting that you hold such views, Governor Satlov. Do you not fight for racial equality ?"

"I do and I stand by that! Pretending that races determines your intellect or your capacities to serve society is nonsense! Non-humans should have the same opportunities as humans."

"Even if the game is rigged?" You can't help but ask

"This is why we work" He reminds you "to refine the process and help the next genius to ascend."

You take a bite, but you're not really hungry anymore.

“But tell me Grand Admiral, what does a man like you do in his free time?” ask Azrel by filling Thrawn's glass

"My time is rarely free, I mostly study arts and cultures while coordinating my teams and investigating the cases the Emperor gave me."

“So you never really stop working, don’t you.”

“I do not. I am contactable at any time and if need be I will shorten those vacation to join the operatives forces I displayed around Tyrahnn.”

Azrel looks interested.

“You displayed operative forces? Where?”

“You will understand I cannot reveal sensible information like that.”

Technically he could, the Governor has full right to know which forces roam around his own planet, but you guess Thrawn’s patience is slowly withering after all. Arzel lifts a hand in an appeasing gesture.

"I didn't mean to pry into your strategies, Grand Admiral. I am sorry." He takes a bite of rare meat. "And you my Pearl, what do you want to do?"

You're suddenly faced again with why you accepted this situation to begin with. This whole circus has only one reason to be…

"There is an open-air market, the Sapara market, I would like to visit on this date, alone. You could do something together this day?" They exchange a single side glance.

Clearly those two only pretend to get along. But it is not your problem, you're here for your cousin, your informant, and for his intel. And those intel specify clearly that your pirates are gonna meet at the Sapara market in less than one week. You may finally end the hunt once and for all. You wince while taking a glass of wine, remembering the Wyvern and the rebel that knew your name… None of the people present on the Sparrow that day seems to have talked about it yet, but you know it is only a matter of time before one of them speaks and tarnishes your name even more. Successfully dismantling a pirate organization could put you once again in the good grace of the Empire.

What could you lose anyway?

Azrel glances at you with an indecipherable expression, while Thrawn finishes his plate. A droïd comes with a new bottle and goes to fill Thrawn’s glass.

“No. The Grand Admiral doesn’t consume alcohol.” Arzel stops it, and sends it back with a gesture of the hand.

“Really thoughtful of you, Governor. How did you know?” Thrawn asks with an acidic tone almost unveiled.

“I have my ways.” Arzel answers with a satisfied smirk, taking a sip.

They look daggers at each other. Maker the tension between these two… You look at it strangely detached, you’re too focused on planning your day at the market in your head. You should soon receive news from your informant. You’re mentally reviewing everything you’ll need when Thrawn rises from his seat.

“I’m done. Thank you for this dinner.”

He walks away and you’re about to go after him

“Thrawn!”

Arzel stops you.

“My pearl, stay here for a bit longer, please.”

You sit back reluctantly. You look at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Not really talkative, your friend.” He mutters pensively

“Why did you have to say that?”

“Since when did we know each other?”

What? What does it have to do with everything?

“Don’t change the subject.” You try

“It has been a decade, no? A decade together…”

“Arzel…”

“A decade at each other’s side, walking the same path, supporting each other…”

He holds your hands, caressing them delicately.

“Yes, most probably, but it has nothing to do with the subject at hand.” You grumble.

“Would you walk with me in the garden for a moment?” He asks with a sad smile.

You comply, champing at the bit. The illusion of this afternoon is definitively broken, the sweet fantasm of a torrid vacation with the two of your men didn’t live long and the true characters of each person slowly surface, and that’s not pretty. You would rather shoot yourself than arbitrate the bickering of two adult men unable to keep their egos at bay. You breathe through your nose as Azrel guides you, arm in arm, through the scented garden. A pinch of rose, lavender and honey reach your nose. You finally get to a small lake shining in the moonlight.

“Do you remember? Our first kiss was before a lake like this one.”

“Indeed.”

You’re not really into a sentimental mood and you’re worrying about Thrawn, he seemed stiffer than usual, you would like to check on him.

"So many things happened, so many obstacles arose, but we passed over them."

You nod silently. He's right, and it's partly because of him but you guard yourself from commenting on that.

"Did I explain to you what your name means ?" He turns towards you with a complicite smile.

"No." You admit.

"It means "peaceful heart" in an ancient language. And this is what I hope to bring you, a life free of all problems" He kisses your forehead "Until the end."

He caresses your hand. You look at him with round eyes, is he suggesting…

"Roween…"

He kneels down. Huh oh…

"Will you make me the happiest man?"

He looks at you right into the eyes, his usual smirk absent. You only see resolution into his eyes. A red light immediately flickers in your mind, but you try and ignore it.

"Would I… I… You…"

You're at a loss for words. So many sentiments rage inside of you. You just blink at him, mouth agape, your voice lost. What just happened ? Did he really ask what you think he asked?

He patiently looks at you, holding your hand in his.

You stare at him, his long braid on his shoulder, his bright gray eyes reflecting the moon’s rays, his jewelry that shines under the light, his long robe that drapes and hugs his form and muscles. Your breath got stuck in your throat, you put your hand on your heart to calm its palpitations.

“I… It’s so sudden, I don’t even know your parents, I…”

He lightly smile, kisses your knuckles.

“You’ll meet them really soon, the feast is only a few months away, everything has already been taken care of.” He brushes your hand on his cheek. “I understand your stupefaction, you don’t have to answer now.”

You gulp. Your love for both of them compresses your heart, suffocating you, cutting your breath. You can’t answer. Not like that. Not before clearing the air with Thrawn or whatever weird relationship you are in. Your situation is too muddied for you to answer honestly or without regrets. You take your courage in both hands.

“I have to do something before being able to answer you properly. Can I… Can I ask for a bit of time so I can give you a real answer?”

He chuckles.

“I knew you would say that, that’s why I didn’t prepare any ring.” He rises up. “Take all your time, my pearl. I’ll wait.” He kisses your forehead again, embracing your body. “Take the night at least to really think about it.”

He parts with you and starts to walk away.

“You’re leaving?” You ask confused.

“There is something important I must do, my pearl. I’ll leave you to your reflection.”

And he disappears into the mansion.

You’re left alone at the bank of the lake, your mind fuming and racing, so much you feel a headache pointing its nose. You hold your head with both hands, messing with your hair, pacing back and forth.

What do you do?

What should you do?

Your stomach is twisting into knots, your nerves wrecking, sending you in a spiral of stress.You’re so happy and terrified, a part of you tells you this what you were waiting for for so long and another is telling you’ll regret it. Both are two wolves at war with each other.

An old alarm is screaming inside your skull.

You collapse on your knees, your head ready to explode.

You jump into the lake.

It’s icy cold.

The water stabs you like a thousand daggers.

You scream, muffled by the liquid.

A slow torpor starts spreading into your limbs and mind. The silence of nature brings quietude and peacefulness. You let yourself float, letting your troubles dissolve away. Talk. You’ll need to talk with Thrawn. Cross out this part of your life definitively.

Growing.

Becoming adult.

You’ll put an end to this sweet impossible dream and turn yourself towards real life. A life possible, with Arzel. A tangible person. Someone you can hug everyday.

You surface.

You’ll say farewell to Thrawn.

Then you’ll say yes.

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin@ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #mitth’raw’nuruodo #fanfic #vibratingskull

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lilithbasically · 1 year

Text

“Neighbors”

Kirishima x Reader

W.C. 2k

*MINORS DNI*

Warnings: graphic fantasies, flirting, light teasing, masturbation (m&f), peeping Tom behavior

The front porch lights are on; you'd have to thank your Aunt Jayne for coming by before you arrived. The house looks the same as it used to, thankfully. Well, for the most part anyway. The unreasonably tall concrete stairs still stand only now with a handrail. 'Fresh paint has really done the porch some good,' you think. Your gaze shifts to the old swing as you heave your suitcase and extra bags up the towering steps. "Holy shit, they actually kept you. How old is this thing now? At least 50 years...Well, let's see if you still swing crooked." Rolling your case to the side, you sit on the cold metal and push off your toes, letting the double seat rock at an awkward cross angle until it starts bumping into its own side. "Yep," you smile, "Just like I hoped."

Deciding to sleep in the master bedroom and getting your bags set up how you like only took a few minutes. You make your way to the bathroom, after making sure the front door is locked, to shower before having a few beers. Just as the last of the suds swirl down the drain, you hear a deep voice call out, "Umm...hello?" Quickly shutting off the water, you whip open the door; naked as the day you were born with only a flimsy towel for cover, and come face to chest with a very large man.

"Oh, wow!" He exclaims and takes two steps back. "I'm so sorry, Miss. I...normally wouldn't do this but I really need to know who you are?"

You scoff, "Excuse me? This is my family's house so, I feel like you should tell me who you are, first, then follow it with what you're doing in here."

'He almost seems flustered,' you think. You watch his eyes dart upward from corner to corner looking anywhere but at you; he has small crowfeet at the corner of each eye and a scar going through his right eyebrow. His long red hair is half up in a bun, some shorter pieces falling into his face. One large hand attempts to shield you from his vision while the other moves rapidly, animating his words, "Again, I'm very sorry, Miss. I'm Eijiro but everyone calls me Kiri. I live just across the street and I have a key because your grandparents gave me a copy to watch over everything when no one is here. And the only people I ever see over here are the workers and occasionally Miss Jayne. So, when I saw a different vehicle and the lights on this time of night, I thought it was strange. As the person that takes care of this place in your family's absence, I felt I should come take a look. I am so, so fucking sorry."

Kiri showed his copy of the house key with the tag brandishing your grandmother's handwriting.

"Oh, okay. Well, thank you for holding up to your word, anyway. No worries, Kiri. Nice meeting you, even if I have nothing but a towel on. Speaking of..." you nod your head to the front door.

"Right! I'll uh, see you later on probably. M'sorry it wasn't under more...regular circumstances," Kiri chuckles. "Before I go, I'm going to leave my number on the fridge, just in case. Feel free to call me any time ya need."

_____

The bare cupboards weren't offering any assistance to your rumbling stomach. That seems to be the only downside of coming here is that no one lives here anymore, so, grocery shopping is an unfortunate necessity.

Grabbing two armfuls of bags, you start to climb the annoyingly tall stairs when you catch a flash of red in the corner of your eye.

"Hey, neighbor! Lookin' like you could use some help there," Kiri smiles at you when you turn to look at him. His bright grin takes over all of his features, crinkling the corners of his ruby eyes. He grabs the remaining bags and shuts the door. His biceps strain against his t-shirt with the smallest movement and you have to wonder just how many shirts he's accidentally ripped. Your gaze is drawn to his dark-wash jeans and muscular thighs as he somehow takes the steps two at a time, and falls into stride next to you.

"Thank you, Kiri. You really don't have to but I appreciate the help anyway."

"Of course! A woman as beautiful as you shouldn't have to do things on your own," he flirts, gently bumping his elbow against your shoulder. You look at him next to you and finally acknowledge just how tall the man is. Having to stoop down to not hit his head on the six-plus foot roof, you figure he's easily six foot four, maybe six foot five.

You smile and shake your head, unlock the door, and walk straight to the kitchen to start putting things away. Kiri sets the bags on the table with a small sigh, "Welp, guess I'll be goin. Like I said, call me if you ever need or want something."

"Oh, Kiri, wait. I'm actually about to start dinner if you want to stick around. I don't know if you're a fan of potato soup but that's what's on the menu. I'll also be having a few drinks afterward if you'd like to join me."

"I'd love to but only if you finally tell me your name," he chuckles.

"Oh! Right! I'm Y/N," you offer a smile and turn to start chopping potatoes and carrots. Dinner is ready within the next hour with Kiri's help, even though you thoroughly protested. He just laughed, leaned forward to be almost eye level with you and asked, "Did you already forget what I told you on the porch?"

The flush that crept up your cheeks was obvious and he didn't hesitate to point it out, "Wow and here I thought my hair was the reddest thing in here." You quickly averted your eyes and blamed it on the heat from the stove while Kiri snickered under his breath.

Now you sit next to him on the couch, turned to face him with one leg bent under the other, each of you a drink in your hand. The alcohol helps diminish your nerves at having such a wildly attractive man in such proximity but when you're both sitting so close, staring into each other's eyes, trying to get the other to break, your mind can't help but wander to other ways he could break you.

Finally, he blinks.

"HA! I've never been beaten in a staring match, Kiri. Told you I'd win," you tease.

Your breath catches in your throat when his fingers lightly grip your jaw, tilting your head back toward him. "Is that what we were doing, darlin'? I was just admiring the view."

His thumb softly sweeps across your bottom lip as he leans forward and whispers against your lips, "You don't mind me admiring you, do you, Little One?"

Unable to respond, you shake your head. The heat swirling in his eyes makes your heart pound against your rib cage. Pulling back, his gaze drops to your lips before returning to your own. A gentle sigh leaves him as he allows his hand to fall, "I should be going, Y/N. I have an early morning but I've had more fun tonight than I have in a long time. So, thank you for that. Hopefully, I'll see you tomorrow. Make sure you lock the door behind me, alright? Have a great rest of your night, beautiful."

Kiri gives you a peck on the cheek and forehead before you both stand and walk to the door. "Goodnight, Y/N. Have sweet dreams for me, yeah?" You say your goodnight and lock the door behind him, slumping against the wall.

"What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened? Holy fucking shit." You fan your ablaze face to rid yourself of the pulsating heat that has taken residence across your cheeks. Walking to your bedroom, stripping along the way, you crawl into bed with nothing on, and lay your head down. You lie in bed for the better part of half an hour and decide the increasing heat from your cunt won't allow you to rest until it's handled. Flicking on the bedside lamp, you throw off the covers and grab your vibrator from your suitcase. Usually, you'd use lube but the wetness coating your inner thighs tells you it won't be necessary this time. A subtle buzzing fills the bedroom as you lay back against the headboard and thrust the toy inside your pussy, the top nub sits snug against your clit as you grind and roll your hips in time with the rhythm you set.

_____

Kirishima is all smiles on his walk back home just across the street. Unlocking and opening his door, he walks to his bedroom and strips down to nothing but his underwear before hopping into his own bed, laying down, and closing his eyes. His thoughts filled only of you. What seems to be just a few moments later, a small flicker of light through his eyelids prompts them to open and investigate.

His eyes adjust and when he realizes what he's seeing, his cock immediately hardens in his boxers. 'There's no way she knows,' he thinks. Surely you don't know there's one section of your blinds that are open just enough to see into from the right angle and Kiri's bedroom window, happens to be at that angle. He can see how wet you are from here; watches as it drips down the toy every time you push it inside you. Your brow scrunched, one hand switching between palming your tits and pinching your nipples while the other is diligently at work. Before he realizes what he's doing, Kiri pulls his boxers down just enough for his aching cock to spring free. The tip is flushed and red, already leaking precum. Taking his length in hand, he matches his pace to yours, stroking in time with you.

"Ahh, f-fuck..."

Did...did you just say his name? He could swear he saw your lips mouth his name. Fuck...just that thought alone has him imagining himself filling you instead of that bright pink toy. Knowing even after stretching you out with his thick fingers, he'd have to bully his cock inside you. Your pussy would stretch to accommodate his size and he would revel in it. Take his time so he could feel every throb, every squeeze, every fucking drop of your essence. Thinking of you begging him not to stop fucking you as he pulls out and dips down to lick your cunt and suck on your clit just to make it last a little longer. He opens his eyes just as your mouth drops open, your toes curl, and your thighs shake. Thick, white ropes of cum cover his fist and stomach as you get off at the same time. Kiri watches as your back arches when you remove your toy, get up to put your pajama pants back on, and slip back into bed after turning off the light. Grabbing a tissue to clean himself up, he tucks himself away and picks up his phone to text his best friend about the new girl just across the street.

#eijiro kirishima smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima smut

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lumine-no-hikari · 6 days

Text

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #127

It's late where I live - almost midnight, and I'm very tired. J and I are on another road trip to PA. This time, he and I are going to fly the plane he got back home. After his shift at work, we drove for 4 hours to a place called Buffalo. We will drive the rest of the way to a place called Zelienople in the morning. Then we will fly back; J will be piloting the plane, of course. J is not yet used to flying this plane, but it's very similar to the one that he already knows well; he knows what he's doing, and I trust, without question or hesitation, that he will keep us safe. I'll be back in my house by this time tomorrow with LOTS of pictures to show you, so don't you worry about a thing, okay?

Br came over and I introduced her to the chocolate-cheddar cheese I got when we went to see the eclipse (it tastes like fudge; it's SO GOOD!), and that was pretty great! But I'm still pretty tired because I spent most of the day before the trip being emotional support for various folks. Some of the interactions challenged my boundary skills, but this is a good thing; we don't grow without some level of discomfort, and our boundary skills never improve if we don't get practice. I'm much better at it now than I used to be, and I'm looking forward to seeing where I'll be with this skill in another few years.

Since writing the letter to my inner child, I've had a lot more faith in my own ability to grow, change, and improve. It's kind of refreshing, actually. Self-loathing is kind of heavy, isn't it? I know I'll probably have days when I'll get a setback, but I've already grown enough in other ways to be very familiar with that phenomenon. One of the most important things one must remember when having a setback is that having a setback, in and of itself, means that there has been progress, and progress can be reproduced over and over and over again until it sticks. Human brains are learning machines, after all. I hope you'll put all the effort you can into learning how to genuinely love and care for yourself; it's one of the most important things you can do.

Oh! I made myself a strawberry rooibos tea today, too! Normally I like to drink black tea or green tea, but today I wanted to limit my caffeine consumption somewhat; caffeine dehydrates a body, and I've been struggling to keep hydrated lately for some reason; figured the thing to do, at least for today, is to try not to make my body use water to cleanse the caffeine from my system. Here's how today's turned out...

This one starts out orange-ish, and then resolves into a lovely shade of red:

I added some creamed honey; it settles to the bottom quite nicely:

And from there, I added heavy cream:

...I think you might like this flavor. It's like strawberries and cream; it's sweet and tart and very milky in flavor. Sometimes I think about combining this one with the vanilla-rose black tea (which is another one I think you'd absolutely love). I'll do that soon and tell you all about it, okay?

I don't have much else to say today; I'm pretty drained. But I do have a lot of pictures I took for you while we drove, simply because I know you like nature. I'll show you the ones that turned out best. It'll be mostly pictures of the sky, though; we didn't get moving until like 6pm-ish, so the lighting wasn't great for general scenery...

...Hey Sephiroth? Next time you're up in the sky, I hope you'll make it a point to dance merrily amongst the sun-drenched clouds - especially during dawn or during sunset, when they're painted in all sorts of vibrant colors; their kaleidoscopic brilliance would look amazing reflected off of you, I'm sure. And maybe you'd have fun, too.

That's all I've got for you today. Thanks for tagging along with me on this brief adventure. Please remember that there are folks here who like to imagine that the prismatic colors splashed upon the clouds by the morning and evening sun are the same as the ones that radiate from the deepest parts of your soul.

I love you. I'll write again soon. Please stay safe out there.

Your friend, Lumine

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skymaiden32 · 8 months

Text

Bad News

AO3 link here

Fandom: Thunderbirds, Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or post new stories.)

Gordon gets a call from Marineville.

Set in the Mariana Trench-verse.

Continuity: TOS

------

Gordon had been enjoying the peace and quiet, floating along the pool’s surface, savouring the moment. And then all hell had broken loose…

“Alan Shepard Tracy, you get back here right now!”

The youngest Tracy brother’s impish grin was audible as he taunted his unfortunate target. “You’ll have to catch me first, Virg!”

A third voice joined the fray, calmly attempting to quell the flames of the brewing argument. “Alright fellas, that’s enough.”

Virgil growled lowly. “Easy for you to say, Scott. It’s not your Thunderbird that has ‘Thunderbird 3 rules, Thunderbird 2 drools’ written all over it!” The silence was deafening. “In bright pink paint!” Okay, even Gordon had to admit that was going a little too far.

“He did what?!” …And big brother’s calm was gone. Gordon didn’t need to look up to picture the look on Scott’s face. He’d been on the receiving end of what they all liked to call The Stare more than anyone else. And he certainly didn’t envy Alan right now.

The aquanaut whistled, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “You want my opinion?” He took their silence as a yes. “Make him clean it up, then ground him for a month.” He moved off of his back, and swam towards his brothers, stretching as he did so.

“I’m not a little kid anymore!” Alan protested.

Virgil huffed, still a little annoyed with the prank, but at least Gordon could hear the amusement in his voice. “Gordon probably means grounding as in no missions, not staying in your room.”

Alan grumbled. “Same thing to us, isn’t it?”

“Should’ve thought of that before doing it then.” Scott folded his arms. “You’ll definitely be cleaning that up, immediately.” Alan sighed, accepting his fate. “I’m not going to ground you, since I have to stay to manage the island while Dad’s away and someone has to fly Thunderbird 1. Wait a few hours though and you’ll have a fresh job lined up.”

Their little brother slumped over, trudging over to the scene of the crime. “I better get to it, then…”

“Yeah, you better.” Virgil’s voice followed him. “You never know when we’ll be needed on call!”

“Speaking of Dad,” Gordon hauled himself out of the pool, and grabbed the towel he’d set aside earlier to dry himself off, “what’s the latest from Tracy HQ?” Their father had been called into an urgent meeting with Tracy Industries’ Board of Directors earlier that week, and from what they’d heard from him so far, it was a real doozy.

Scott sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Nothing good, I can tell you that…”

Virgil whistled lowly. “That bad, huh?”

“Yep.”

“How long do you reckon he’ll be?” Gordon asked.

“I’m not really sure.” Their eldest brother shrugged. “The end of the week at the very least…”

Gordon ran a hand through his wet hair. “Well, I hope he gets back soon.” He started, throwing a cheeky smile in Virgil’s direction. “Too much stress is bad for you. Ages you by about a century.” Virgil smirked, catching on. “Ooo,” Gordon made a show of it, pointing at a random spot on Scott’s head, “is that a new grey hair?”

Virgil rubbed his chin. “You know, I think it might be, Gordon.” He hummed. “Either that or it’s an old one and big brother’s hair dye isn’t working anymore.”

“Haha. Very funny.” Scott deadpanned. “I’ll have you know that this,” he pointed to his hair, “is all natural.”

Gordon leaned in. “Are you sure?” He stage-whispered. “You are getting very old, Scooter. We’re just looking out for you…” He put on his best innocent face.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I saw some crow’s feet the other day.” Virgil added.

“Alright fellas, cut it out, will you?” Scott rolled his eyes, smiling fondly as his brothers snickered. Back in the lounge, the phone rang loudly. “I’d better get that. Might be Dad…”

They watched as their brother disappeared back inside the house. Virgil threw a grateful glance in Gordon’s direction. “Thanks Gords. I needed that laugh, even if it’s at Scott’s expense.”

“At least Scott’s a good sport about it. We wouldn’t dare make those jokes if it genuinely upset him.” Gordon chuckled, and Virgil nodded in agreement before the aquanaut changed the subject. “Don’t want to strangle Alan anymore?”

“Oh no, I’m still gonna kill him.” The pilot smirked. “My improved mood just means he has more time to plan his escape route.”

“It better be a good one then.”

“Gordon!” Scott’s voice drifted out towards them from the house. “It’s for you!”

Virgil followed his brother upstairs and into the lounge, where Scott was waiting with the video caller on. “Is it Dad?”

Scott shook his head, looking at Gordon. Based on the look on his face, they could tell it was pretty serious. “WASP business…”

Gordon quickly made his way over to where the grim face of his old Commander sat. “Commander Shore.” He nodded respectfully, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothes. “What can I do for you?”

Shore took one look at Gordon before speaking. “I’m going to assume that you just went swimming, Lieutenant Tracy.” Gordon nodded. “Then I’ll say no more about that.” He cleared his throat. “I called you to give you an update, and to make you an offer.”

The aquanaut frowned. “It must be pretty big, if you’re calling someone who left the WASPs a long time ago.”

“I realise this must be confusing, Tracy. But in truth, we’re in a tight spot.” Gordon gestured for him to continue, and Shore sighed. “Stingray is short a crew member.” Gordon’s eyes widened. “We don’t know for how long, quite possibly a good while.”

“Who? And how?” Thunderbird 4’s pilot asked, immediately worried for his old friends. He needed to know the full story.

Shore gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you the full story, Tracy. Former WASP or not, you no longer have Marineville clearance.”

“At least give me something, Commander.” Gordon pleaded. “They’re my friends. I need to know if they’re okay.” Out of the corner of his eye, the aquanaut saw his older brothers inching closer, ready to offer comfort in any way they could. Gordon found himself feeling incredibly grateful for it. The Commander just shook his head. Gordon sighed, changing the subject. “You mentioned an offer?”

Shore seemed thankful for the change in topic. “As you know, you served temporarily on Stingray under Captain Holden before Lieutenant Griffiths took over hydrophones.” Gordon nodded. “I’m inviting you to return to active service as a temporary replacement to fill the position on Stingray’s crew. I would be able to give you the full story then. Of course, you don’t have to accept, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to leave Thunderbird 4 without a pilot, but…”

“Thunderbird 4?” Gordon pushed his astonishment that Shore knew the truth far beneath the surface, attempting to play it off as a case of mistaken identity. In the background, Scott and Virgil looked as if they’d seen a ghost. “With all due respect sir, you must be mistaken. How could I possibly be an International Rescue operative?”

“Quite easily, I think you’ll find.” Shore smiled. “The stunts I’ve heard Thunderbird 4 pull off, well, there’s a few men who are capable of them, but there’s only three aquanauts I can think of who would actually try, one of them works for me, another I don’t know the location of. The third one is you.” Gordon could say nothing to change the older man’s mind. The Commander grinned in triumph, knowing he was correct. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me…” He didn’t dare mention that he’d guessed it was his old friend Jeff who was running the whole outfit, thus making International Rescue a family affair.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Gordon muttered, and frowned in thought. “Well, for that reason, Commander, I’m afraid I’ll have to reject your offer to rejoin the Stingray crew. As much as I enjoyed my life at WASP, it’s time for me to stay close to my family…”

Commander Shore smiled. “Of course, I understand. Before I let you go though, I will give you some advice…” Gordon raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Be careful who you trust, Gordon Tracy. Even our closest friends can cut us deeply. And the funny thing about betrayal is that it never comes from an enemy…” He moved to sign off. “I wish you luck, and good day.”

Gordon was faced with a black screen, playing the Commander’s last words to him over and over again in his head. The knowledge that his old Commander knew he was an International Rescue operative was the least of his worries. Betrayal never comes from an enemy… Shore had told him the truth of what had happened all this time. A member of the Stingray crew had gone rogue.

He was barely aware of what was going on around him. His brother's voices were right next to him, asking if he was okay and begging him to say something, but all he heard were whispers. He could see Virgil in front of him, shaking him gently, but he seemed so far away. He felt Scott wrap an arm around him in a sideways hug, slowly leading him elsewhere, but felt nothing. He just felt… numb.

The next time he was aware of anything, he was sitting on a flat rock, looking out towards his favourite place, the ocean, next to his favourite people in the whole world. He lifted his head off of Scott’s shoulder, stretching out his tired limbs, and just sat with his brothers, watching the sun go down on the horizon.

Alan came down from the house with an ice cold glass of water, which Gordon took gratefully. The youngest Tracy sat between Gordon and Virgil, loath to get between Smotherhen and his current concern. The four of them just sat in silence, worries and feuds of the day put aside temporarily...

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds 1965 #thunderbirds fanfiction #stingray 1964 #stingray fanfiction #thunderfam #gordon tracy #alan tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #commander sam shore #sky writes stuff

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