#be sympathetic and be curious about your partner

[stupid-elf]

Okay dandy, what is "it's not about the bread"? I recognized everything else

Ah! It's not about the bread is a phrase fairly common in marriage counseling/relationship advice circles. It comes from a popular anecdote of a husband in counseling saying his wife is always blowing up at him about petty things, like buying the wrong brand of bread. The therapist asks the wife why she's upset about the bread, and she says it's because he is chronically inattentive to her and their collective needs so she ends up carrying the slack. It's not about the bread: It's about what's manifesting through the bread

Humans are not rational creatures, we're rationalizing. It takes a lot of self awareness to be in one's own head and go "oh. I'm not upset about the bread, I'm mad because this is the third time this week and the twentieth time this month I have to come up with a new dinner plan because this idiot fucked up." However, it takes much less awareness to look at one's partner and go "hm. That was an outsized reaction. Something larger than what set this off is probably going on."

Once you've realized there's something going on, partners can begin working towards a solution. You have to pull back the rug to find what's been swept under it.

Emotions all have causes. Sometimes they're bigger than they seem like they should be, and sometimes the cause is buried deep in the unconscious parts of the brain, but there's always a reason. Part of loving someone is trying to understand them, and part of understanding them is sussing out when it's about the bread... And when you should maybe start writing a more detailed grocery list

[aurynsia]

what would be the life after hogwarts for james and reader? i can just imagine james thinking of the best ring he could give reader to ask her to marry him, or even like thinking of where they should live in.

Life After Hogwarts

James Potter x Reader

Summary: James won’t settle for anything less than perfect for his perfect girl...

Warnings: Intense fluff, Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, James is just a good hearted rich boy who wants the best for his partner <3

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wrote this as a sequel to this series, but it can just as easily be read as a stand alone oneshot. Enjoy!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Pads, please focus here. This is serious!”

“No, I’m Sirius, born and raised! Are you sure you aren’t feeling lightheaded, Prongs?”

James and Sirius stood bent over the cabinet of delicate rings, the latter struggling to free himself from a ring size too small. James huffed in frustration, brows furrowed in contemplation as he glanced across the display one last time.

“None of them feel right, I’m telling you! We‘ll just have to find somewhere else, she won’t like how flashy all of these diamonds are,” James sulked and grumbled as Sirius finally eased the ring off of his nimble finger.

“Prongs, this is the fifth jeweller we’ve been to in the past four hours. Merlin, the sun is already setting and you haven’t even considered a single one of the more than acceptable rings we’ve looked at!”

Sirius scrambled to chase James out of the store, pace quickened along the damp concrete of the sidewalk.

“It needs to be perfect, she’s perfect. I will settle for no less.” James held his head high, nose turned upwards at the raven haired boy who grew visibly sluggish with every step.

Sirius groaned, only following his bespectacled friend for another quick moment before James stopped abruptly at a pawn shop window, eyes bursting wide with hope.

The ring in the window shone elegantly against the store’s harsh light. The metal twisted and turned in a smooth curve that was sure to make your skin glow radiantly in contrast. It was understated, with only the minor details in the engravings making a quiet display of the mountain of money James was about to spend.

“That’s the one. It’s perfect.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The cool breeze wrapped around the Potter’s summer house with ease, pressing against your skin to form goosebumps along the soft surface.

James had been acting strangely all day, almost avoiding you at every turn of the house’s walls like his life depended on it. He fiddled with his fingers, stuttered out his words and blushed at every subtle sound of amusement you made.

Finally relaxing into your side, James sheltered you from the wind with his body on his family’s beach-side deck. Your evening beverage was pressed between your legs, freeing your hands to run soothing circles over your boyfriend’s back.

His eyes clenched shut, head growing wrinkles as he sought his trademark courage that seemed to all but disappear the moment you were near.

Slowly, tentatively, he lifted his body from your warmth, flashing you a sympathetic smile to compensate for the absolute fool he was about to make of himself.

“Love, I- you mean the world to me…” he turned to face you. “These past years with you have made for some of the happiest moments I’ve ever experienced…” he shifted to lift up onto his knees, gazing down at your curious expression.

“I love you so, so much. I loved you when I first met you, the shy girl on the Hogwarts express. I loved you when we started dating, all smiles over candle lit dinners, and…” He moved again, down on one knee. “I want to keep loving you when you marry me.”

You gasped at the genuine glaze of his soft brown eyes, his lean towards your stationary body, and the ring sat in his grasp, shrouded by a velvet box.

He coughed slightly at the awkward atmosphere, repeating himself with clarity. “Will you…marry me?”

“Godric, James- yes!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Fleamont Potter was showering his son with engagement gifts. James never had any reason to complain about his family or economic situation, and to say he grew up comfortably would be a drastic understatement.

House hunting was James’ first protocol after his successful proposal. He had patiently listened to you ramble about your dream house for years, trying to stay focused under your captivating gaze and endearing energy. Big windows, lots of light, and a burning fireplace.

That’s exactly what James was searching for as he strolled down the streets of Godric’s Hollow. He had inspected every single house he could find, taken or not. The day was wearing out, washing lines already dried under the subtle summer heat.

His gaze fell in a wave of sluggish fatigue, only to be snapped open by the sight of a Southern-style mansion positioned right on the edge of Godric’s Hollow, towering over the sidewalk. The house was decorated with shutters and balconies, as well as a small red sign in the front yard.

FOR SALE.

He rushed to the front door, conveniently propped open. “It’s a beautiful place, really, but we’re after something a little more…modern.” A family glided past James in a pack, concluding what he could only assume to be a tour of the house.

The estate agent fixed his tie as he bid farewell to the family, promising something about searching closer to the city the following week. He spun around to find James gawking eagerly at the front door, before clearing his throat to gain the young Potter’s attention.

“Would you like a tour?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James flashed you a smug smile as you gazed in awe at the intricate architecture of your new townhouse. You were perched on the front lawn, tucked into James’ side with his hand on the small of your back.

“It’s so beautiful…” you mused wistfully, gaze drawn to the rustic tiles on the roof like sunflowers to the sun. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, I mean- this must have been an absolute pain to buy…” you finally tilted your gaze to see James peering over you, a lovesick longing painted on his features.

“Love, my father knows people - too many to count - who were more than happy to help with this little engagement gift,” he chuckled, eyes still locked on yours. “When I saw this house for the first time…it was calling your name. Our names.”

The house was big enough to hold a few kids and some small pets - clearly too big for just you and James, but he hoped that your family would fill it out in the coming years. There needed to be room for at least one big black dog.

Still uncertain, you gave James a sceptical look. “It was no trouble, really.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he drove you through the open door by your shoulders.

You stumbled through each room, captivated by the warmth in every corner you turned to. James was hot on your heels, guiding you by your waist every now and then to show you specific features of the kitchen, the bathrooms and the already decorated master bedroom.

You jumped onto the bed with glee, warmth engulfing you under your body.

“Jamie…it’s perfect…” you mused, eyes shut as you felt the bed dip with your Fiancée’s weight, who shifted to kiss your forehead with care.

“You’re perfect, love.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] Neighbors

Thoughts about living with monsters- You live in an apartment with monsters all around.

An orc family lives above you, and they’re the sweetest neighbors you’ve ever had. The wife loves inviting you over for coffee and a bit of gossip. Her stories fill the air with warmth as she pours your cup and chats about the neighborhood or shares a delicious new pastry she’s baked. Her husband? He’s a gentle giant, always ready to roll up his sleeves and help out around your small flat. Whether it’s fixing a leaky faucet or carrying heavy groceries up the stairs, he’s there before you even ask.

And then, there are the babies; two adorably chubby little ones with soft, green cheeks and big, curious eyes. You’ve become their go-to babysitter, which means plenty of afternoons filled with giggles and messy faces.

But when night falls, it’s a different story.

The ceiling might as well be paper-thin, with their gravelly voices and laughter rolling through the floorboards. Sometimes, those conversations turn into... well, more intimate moments and the babies aren’t just cute, they’ve got lungs that could rival any set of bagpipes. Their cries often jolt you awake in the middle of the night, heart racing.

Even with the sleepless nights, you never find it in yourself to complain, though. There’s a warmth to their noise, a liveliness that fills your small flat with a sense of family, even if it comes with a few sleep-deprived mornings.

Beneath you on the first floor lives a goblin who’s practically made it his life’s mission to comment on every noise you make. You do your best to avoid him, but it’s only a matter of time before you bump into him, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl etched on his face.

He never misses an opportunity to complain.

“Your steps are like thunder up there. Ever heard of walking lightly?” he grumbles, or “How many times do I have to tell you? Lift the chairs, don’t drag them! Sounds like a damn avalanche down here!” And that’s not even the worst of it. The day he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, “And for god’s sake, put a pillow over your face next time you play with your vibrating friend,” your face burned hotter than a forge. You were sure the ground might split open beneath you right then and there.

Since that conversation, you’ve found yourself tiptoeing around your flat, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible, but even with your efforts, you know the next run-in with him is just around the corner, along with another list of grievances he’s been stewing over.

To your right lives a wolf-shifter, and for the most part, things between you are easygoing. He’s a quiet neighbor, the type who nods at you in the hallway and even offers a polite smile now and then. But his love life? That’s where the peace ends. His one-night stands, in particular, are the worst. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to comfort his partners the morning after, wiping away their tears when they realize that "just one night" really means just that. They always seem to hope for more, for something lasting, and it’s always you who ends up playing the sympathetic neighbor, nodding along as they pour out their hearts. Of course, it's your fault too. You should learn how to mind your own business instead of feeling sorry for crying women. And men.

And then there’s his rut. The first time you realized what was going on, you nearly dropped your coffee cup. The howls, the desperate growls, and the unmistakable... fervor of it all carried straight through the walls. After those nights, it’s impossible to even think about making eye contact with him. Weeks go by before you feel like you can look at him without your mind immediately replaying all the sounds you heard. And he, of course, acts like nothing happened.

To your left lives a succubus, and teasing you seems to be her favorite pastime. She’s always around when you come or go, somehow knowing exactly when to time her appearances. She leans casually against her doorframe, dressed in barely-there lingerie or a robe that hangs loose enough to leave little to the imagination, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she catches your eye. It’s impossible not to feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze, especially when she purrs a playful remark. Her eyes linger just a moment too long. And those paper-thin walls? They do nothing to block the sultry sounds she makes late into the night, sounds you’re sure are meant just for you.

You tell yourself you are holding your ground, that you won’t give in, but every sly comment she throws your way and every time she catches you with a flustered look makes you worry that it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself at her door, falling right into her trap.

Across the hall lives an elderly minotaur who, bless her heart, has made it her personal mission to match you up with one of her grandkids. No matter how busy you are, she has a sixth sense for catching you at the worst possible times. If you are running late for an appointment, she is suddenly in the hallway, eager to chat about her "really successful and recently divorced" grandson. Or maybe you’re lugging bags of groceries, arms aching under their weight, and just as you are almost to your door, she appears, excited to tell you that another one of her grandsons, who just came back from abroad, is finally ready to settle down. You try to smile and listen, nodding along as she goes on about their good jobs, kind hearts, and how they need someone like you in their lives. And of course, you don’t have the heart to cut her off, even when you’re in a rush or your arms feel like they might fall off from holding the bags. So, more often than not, you find yourself standing there, smiling politely and listening for far longer than you’d planned, as she talks on and on about her grandkids’ achievements while her eyes twinkle with hope.

“Y/N!” The goblin’s voice rings out just as you step into the elevator. Your name rolling off his tongue is already dripping with complaints. "I'm sorry!" You almost shout when you catch a glimpse of his frown while frantically jabbing the button for your floor. "Y/N!" As the elevator finally slips shut, cutting off his grumbling, the tension drains from your shoulders, but your relief is short-lived when you hear the familiar ding and the doors open. "Hey," the wolf-shifter greets you casually before taking your place in the metal box. You manage a stiff nod and a quiet "hey" while drifting your gaze to the floor, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. When he disappears behind the thick doors, you let out a sigh and shift the bags in your arms as you fumble for your keys. Just as you manage to find them, the door in front of you swings open, and you force a smile as the elderly minotaur across the hall greets you warmly. “Hello, dear!” she beams. “Would you like to come in? My grandson, you know, the one I told you about, is visiting, and I thought you two should finally meet!” Your mouth opens, and your brain scrambles for a polite excuse, but before you can get a word out, her grandson appears behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Nan,” he says with a smile, steering her back into the apartment. You share a moment of mutual understanding before the door clicks shut. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, again, another door swings open, again, and you freeze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The succubus leans against her door, draped in dark purple lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bralette barely manages to contain her generous figure, and her sultry smile only deepens as she takes in your flustered expression. “Hello, Y/N,” she purrs. Your cheeks flare up, and you barely stammer out a weak “Not today!” as you nearly stumble into your apartment. You can hear her laughter echoing behind you, but your attention is quickly snatched by the buzzing of your phone. Your bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, and you cringe, fully aware the goblin will have a field day with this. You glance at your screen, catching a new message from your friend upstairs: The kids are with their dad. Fancy a coffee? How about you come down? you quickly reply, no way willing to risk leaving your apartment again today. Sure, comes the reply almost instantly. Did you hear about the party that harpy threw on the fourth floor? She drives me mad! No, you think, but leave the message unanswered. Of course, you didn’t hear about the party. How could you, with the orc babies wailing through most of the night?

[wndaswife]

To your stepmother’s surprise, you come home from a Christmas party asking for her to care for you; it’s been months since her wedding to your father and months since you’ve paid her any attention at all.

Tags: angst, kiiinda fluffy, stepmom wanda loving you so so much, almost nearly unrequited love

drabble for matriarchal disturbance

I forgot my keys. 

You texted Wanda some time during the evening once you realized you had forgotten them, and since she was the only one at home until tomorrow, she’d have to let you in. Or at least keep the door unlocked. 

Oh no. It’s okay, I have work to do so I can unlock the door when you come home. :)

It was Christmas break and you were home for just a little, so you were out drinking with some friends from high school and some of their new college friends. 

Wanda had texted you a week or two prior asking when you might be coming home. You didn’t answer — you didn’t ever feel in the mood to talk with your stepmother — but you knew it was still her curiosity talking through your father when he called a few days after you left her on read, asking the same question. 

They were both happy to have you home, but Wanda particularly, though you could tell she was trying not to be overbearing. 

She offered to make you tea or coffee once you were unpacking and offered to make you whatever you wanted for dinner that evening, and very subtly tried asking if you’d be home all break or if you might consider staying longer than when you planned to leave. 

Your holiday break ended much later than the day you were planning on leaving, but you didn’t want to stay around much longer than was necessary — you’d spend New Year’s at home, and then you’d leave. 

You weren’t really excited to be home, but you weren’t so cruel as to not come back for the holidays. 

Still, you weren’t really looking forward to having to deal with your stepmother’s longing, curious looks, always wanting to talk with you or bring something up but not knowing how to and not wanting to spoil her limited time with you. 

The feeling you got from seeing her look at you from the corner of your eye wasn’t necessarily all a form of annoyance, but some kinds of pity too, and perhaps some guilt. 

There was something about the Christmas party that sorta had you feeling down, and you weren’t quite sure what it was, though perhaps it was simply because there were many things that had bothered you and you just couldn't pin it down to one thing. 

It was something about meeting some of your friends’ other friends, and even some of their new partners. You hadn’t drunk anything, and perhaps it would’ve been worse for you if you did — you tended to get a bit more emotional while drunk. 

All in all, you just felt… left out. And like you were missing something, or like you never wanted to be there at all. 

You wanted to be somewhere you belonged and where your presence was not only enjoyed but needed — somewhere it was warm and loving and kind and soft. 

While seeing all your friends together with their new ones and their partners, you just kept thinking of Wanda.

And you really hated yourself for it. 

You wanted to go home to see her, and you knew you couldn’t stop it, because you’d been thinking of her all night. So you drank enough to feel just a little drunk — to get just enough confidence to make a bad decision — and went back home early. 

From the window facing the street, you could see through the curtains that the living room lamp was on.

Wanda opened the door when you knocked like she said she would. From the door, you could see a book laying on the couch. She smiled at the sight of you. 

“Did you have fun?” she asked immediately, stepping back a bit to allow you in. Then she said sympathetically after taking a better look at you, “You look a bit tired.”

You thanked the stars for having taken a few shots before you left. 

You stepped into the house and wrapped your arms around Wanda, feeling the warmth of her knitted sweater against your cheek, then against the tip of your nose when you turned your head to bury your face in the crook of her neck. Her hair tickled the space between your eyebrows. 

There was a split moment before she wrapped her arms around you that would have been indiscernible if you hadn’t felt how immediate her embraces were a million-and-one times before. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda asked, having turned her head to look down at you so the breath of her soft whispered voice blew warm and gentle against your ear. 

“I wanna be your baby again,” you confessed — stupidly. 

Wanda tried to speak immediately for how she felt deep in her chest when you spoke the words she had only dreamt would come out of your mouth ever since the wedding, but found she could speak only in stutters. 

Then she finally said, “You’ll always be my baby, Y/N.”

You hugged her tighter and you knew that if you hadn’t been just a little bit drunk, you would’ve been angry at what she had just said. But now, it could nearly make you cry. 

“Can you bring me to bed?” you mumbled quietly into her neck, still seemingly a bit embarrassed through your drunken state. 

“Of course,” she answered, smiling down at you. This was the closest you’d been to her in months, and likely the longest you’ve spoken to her with undivided attention in that same span of time too. She almost didn’t want to move at all for how you’d unwrap your arms from around her once you headed up the stairs together. 

You unwrapped yourself from around her body and she closed and locked the front door; you’d literally just been standing embracing each other in the wide-open doorway for several moments. 

Then you swiped at your eyes when you pulled away in case you accidentally had cried. 

Wanda smiled at you sweetly, and a bit tiredly too, and you knew she must’ve finished her work a little bit ago and decided to stay up to wait for you. She took your hand and you walked up the stairs beside each other in silence. 

She squeezed your hand and you squeezed back, and Wanda looked over her shoulder at you shyly as you stared down at the steps of the staircase. 

“Can I help you get ready for bed?” she asked once you both arrived in front of the washroom. 

You nodded silently then looked up at her with a small smile. “I just have to get my stuff from my bags,” you told her. Then, a bit hesitantly, you let go of her hand and walked towards your bedroom. 

Wanda turned on the washroom light and paced around a little, playing with the knitted fabric of her sweater nervously and checking her hair a bit in the mirror, and even trying to repress a tiny smile as she couldn’t help but make comparisons to how it all used to be before the wedding. 

But she didn’t want to get ahead of herself — after all, every day after this would be different, and whatever had caused you to come seeking her comfort wasn’t guaranteed to happen again from tonight onwards. 

You came into the washroom with a little bag of your toiletries and started unpacking them, starting with makeup wipes and face wash then everything else. 

“Come lean against the counter,” Wanda said, and you did. She began removing your makeup with one of your makeup wipes, the fingers of her other hand delicately perched under your chin to keep your face in the light. 

She was gentle with how she swiped against your face, and thorough with taking all the makeup off. 

Wanda was always so nice and gentle. In taking care of you, and in treating you in any way, really, she always did it as if you were delicate, and special to her too. She never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to make you feel like you weren't the most important thing in the world to her. 

You felt like crying, but really didn’t want to ruin how casual you were trying to make everything seem. 

She must’ve noticed how your eyes were filling with tears because once she finished she set the makeup wipe down and held you to her chest wordlessly, running her hand down the side of your head soothingly with her other arm wrapped around your waist. 

She seemed to understand that you still had your reservations about being with her like this again, and that you weren’t trying not to get into things too quickly. 

Even so, she couldn’t help but… hope, even just a little, that the feeling of how she held you and brought you close might make you miss her enough to want to be her baby again for more than just an evening. 

“I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff,” you mumbled and straightened out of her hold, swiping at your eyes again.

Wanda packed up your makeup wipes and slid it back into the toiletry bag you brought. 

Quietly, you asked, “Can I sleep with you?”

You weren’t really sure where to look when you asked, so you tried to keep busy getting your toothbrush ready. 

But when Wanda replied with a gentle, almost eager, ‘Of course,’ you couldn’t help but look over at her to see her smiling at you.

You looked away while she told you that she would also change and get ready while she waited for you — her shared bedroom had a washroom in it. 

Wanda felt ridiculous for how she felt in her stomach — a familiar fluttering feeling dancing around where it would when you were still together. Sometimes Wanda reasoned the memory of the feeling up to a fantasy, that perhaps she may have recalled it as differently as it had been for it’d been so long since she’d felt it. 

But it was exactly the same as she recalled. 

And it was only with you. 

She hadn’t realized she had been smiling until she heard you come into the bedroom, and she instinctively relaxed her face so as to not be overzealous and overwhelm you. 

“Are you ready for bed?” she asked, closing the door of the walk-in closet as she stood in her pajama shorts and tank. 

You nodded then looked away from her for how happy you felt to be asked that, to soon be adorned by Wanda’s kisses and touched by her gentle, loving hands and embraced by her arms the moment you got into bed. 

Wanda seemed to be hesitant at your reluctance for a moment. Her fingers twitched with the urge to walk over and embrace you, to kiss your lips and lead you to her bed. But instead, restraining herself, she went to bed first, getting under the covers and looking over at you encouragingly. 

Silently, you followed after closing the bedroom door. 

She turned off the lamp on her side and you hesitated for a moment before you reached over and did the same. 

Then you were blanketed in the darkness of the bedroom, and for a moment you couldn’t see Wanda in your peripheral vision at all; you could for a moment construe the feelings of blankets under your hands as being in your own bed instead of hers. 

For a moment you felt glad to imagine you had made it all up, but then you felt terribly disappointed and lonely again. 

Without Wanda, it was always just a little bit… lonely. 

But the burst of sudden feelings was contained only within a few moments’ time, for your eyes soon adjusted and you could see the shadow of your stepmother beside you. 

She reached out for you, her hand moving under the blankets and placing it on your bare thigh. She moved closer. 

“Don’t be nervous,” she said quietly. “It’s okay.”

You’d been here before — in Wanda’s bed without your dad being home, in her company, in the spotlight of her undivided attention, in the warm shower of all her heart could pour out for you and only you. 

It was was familiar with Wanda and you knew it for it was the closest thing you’d felt in a while to being somewhere you were certain you belonged in. 

Then she added, “I want you here, Y/N.”

Like you had asked her, Wanda babied you — she cared for you. Her other hand wrapped around your waist and she slowly urged your body to lay down beside her. 

She didn’t stop there; she moved herself onto her elbow only slightly to gain height over you, then cupped your furthest cheek with her hand. She kissed your face gently, tenderly, on your temple then on your cheekbone, and your chin. 

Not your lips — not unless it was you who made an advance towards her first. 

You turned and wrapped an arm around her torso securely, burying your face in her chest. She lowered herself back down and wrapped her arms around you immediately. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you muttered against her, “I love you.”

In the morning when you arose before her, you carefully peeled yourself away from a soundly-sleeping Wanda. There was a pang in your chest as you sat at the edge of the bed, recalling how she held you close after you had told her you loved her.

She held you in a way that communicated desperation and longing; it wasn’t only sweet and tender like she always was, but pained, too. She had cradled the back of your head to her chest, rubbed your upper back and pressed her lips against the top of your head. 

She might’ve nearly said that she loved you a fourth time, though you presumed she had tried to contain the way she wanted to pour herself out for you right then and there. 

You turned and watched as she dozed, her body the very same that you were held against through the night, the same you had thrown yourself into her arms of and were accepted and loved and cared for like you wanted, like Wanda wanted. 

How at peace she seemed having gone to sleep with you in her arms, with all she had been longing for warm in her embrace and sleeping in the eternal comfort of her loving. 

If you were honest with yourself, and you tried to be for how often you lied to Wanda, you didn’t think it was a lie when you told her you loved her, for you still did. 

And you still could, inviting her over to your place and responding to her calls and texts when you were away, letting her care for you and at the very least not pretend she wasn’t always looking at you, waiting only for your eye contact as cue for her to bring up one of the dozens of questions and worries she had about the life that you no longer shared with her — which was to say, all of it. 

Wanda stirred and her fingers flexed outwards slightly, reflecting a slowly-rising sun’s beams against her wedding ring, before she relaxed again, still in deep sleep. 

Just under an hour later once Wanda woke up to find you gone, she texted asking where you were. 

When she texted, you knew that she must have looked first to see if you had moved to your own bed, for you had left and decided to go on a drive. 

She messaged: Have you gone out?

Sitting in a parking lot of a walking trail with the breakfast you picked up, the sun only just having fully risen, you texted back. 

Forgot something at Kate’s last night.

She asked if you were going to eat breakfast there or if you would be home to have breakfast with her; she’d make some now so it could be ready by the time you got back. 

You tried to keep eating after choosing to leave your stepmother on read, but soon lost your appetite. Instead, you went on a walk that lasted until the early afternoon when your dad got back home. 

As you had planned, you went back to your place on the second of January, and that evening wasn’t ever brought up. 

[weebsinstash]

Ok! OK! Back to normal posts! Or at least normal for over here!

So I've been getting a lot of Hazbin and Helluva content in my YouTube feed recently and, as an interesting but also kind of disappointing fact, the way a Sinner dies directly influences how they appear in Hell. If you drown on a sinking ship like Baxter (scrapped side character who still has an enamel pin for some reason?), you might have an aquatic fishy look. Angel Dust died of a drug overdose, and he now has a prominent heart on his chest symbolizing the heart attack he died from

So, like. Obviously there are cool ideas on how maybe you could catch attention or appear down there, but, could you imagine how fucked you would be with like literally any yandere HH/HB character if you go down there very obviously dead from suicide. Platonic, romantic, sexual, it doesn't matter. You can't keep that shit secret

Charlie meets you and you're like a zebra with horizontal stripes and she thinks you just look so neat and interesting, and wow you're so sweet amd fun actually, what are you doing down here? And then she sees you have stripes going vertically down one or both of your forearms and she suddenly feels a little hope die inside of her because, what does it MEAN for someone like you to be in HELL for... suicide? That's not your fault! That's so sad! She would vow to be your new best friend and do her best to give you an amazing afterlife to make up for all the time you didn't get to have "up top"

Angel accidentally walks in on you changing and sees you have a heart on your chest and is in instant sibling mode because he knows the second Val sees that he'll go crazy for it since he loves that aesthetic (Also extra bad luck if you're chesty and the heart is like in between your boobs or like you know nestled in your cleavage or whatever because then you're getting forced into constant push-up bras) but, also, if you were an addict, that means you're vulnerable. For Val, that makes you a target, and for Angel that means you're probably miserable and spiraling like him and he doesn't want to see you go down the same roads he has

Alastor who meets a version of you that has a certain old timey kinda twang or is kinda theatrical and showtuney in your voice/mannerisms and maybe you glow a little and it's because you put your radio in the bathtub 💀 definitely don't let your extra special "platonic friend" find out you killed yourself from crippling loneliness, partially caused by not having a partner!

Valentino who sees you're literally blue-faced with a certain pattern around your neck and instantly knowing that this interesting little cutie he's curious about is an emotionally vulnerable mark. It won't be TOO hard to pour drinks down your throat and maybe lend you some of this joint until you're spilling all your intimate secrets, he figures

Blitz already has multiple instances of family trauma and feeling rejected and isolated, so how do you think he's gonna empathize if you're some.... yellow skinned aquatic demon who literally drank like a fish and died of liver failure/alcohol poisoning. The imp watching you get piss drunk all over again and bawling how you're a failure and no one will love you? You're crashing on his couch tonight cuz he doesn't wanna leave you alone. And also the next night. And the next. And the next.

Stolas certainly would be awfully sympathetic to a teen or adult child abused by their family and ending their life because of it, coming down to Hell with spots like a dalmatian or leopard from where you were beaten, and bright red on one specific patch of your hair from where you hit the ground after jumping from a great height

Annnnnnnd as a bonus, Asmodeus and a Darling with visible handprints on their neck who was choked to death during sex, so not only is he horribly protective of you as someone killed by a lover, the act of even being lovers something he considers pretty intimate and important, but also because you've now got these horrible sex related traumas and.... honey baby cutiepie, he's gotta fix all that if the two of you are gonna bone down something nasty. You're at least gonna let him cuddle, right 🥺

[sxcret-garden]

4th Desire ღ Hush, My Dear [M]

ღ Aspects of Desire series ღ Ateez Jongho x fem!reader ღ words: ~5.8k ღ genre: established relationship, college AU, fluff, some humor, slice of life, a bit of angst, smut (dom!Jongho, sub!reader, semi-public (they have to keep quiet cause reader’s family is literally in the other room), quickie, clothed sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pain kink, biting (idol receiving), he’s lowkey mean… again askjfkljas, orgasm denial, praise) ღ warnings: reader has a difficult relationship with her family, mentions of her mother trying to convince her to wear a dress to an event even though reader doesn’t like wearing them, mentions of a bad experience Jongho had in his past relationship, (him running his fingers through reader’s hair)

Desc.: Dinner with your family goes about as you expected - you’re slightly uncomfortable because of their choices in conversation topics and very much bored. Luckily, your boyfriend tagged along and knows just how to make you feel better, and in the process he too seems to be able to finally let go of his worries.

Author's note: This has a bit of a different pacing than the chapters so far... fun fact! It's also the first chapter I wrote for this fic... no I don't write them in order, that would be way too simple kalsdjflksda

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“Necklace or no necklace?” you ask, raising your voice a little so your boyfriend would hear you in the other room. You hear footsteps, and not much later his figure appears in the doorframe to his room, where you’re looking yourself in the big mirror next to his wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear.

“Y/N…” he mutters your name, and as you shoot his reflection behind you a look, you immediately respond,

“I know…”

“It’s just your family,” he says it nevertheless and he walks over to you. Coming to a halt right behind you, his palms find your waist as he lets his gaze take in your figure through the mirror. “You don’t have to dress up for them.”

“I know,” you say once again, peeling yourself out of his hold in order to walk over to the far end of the closet, pulling out yet another different necklace. “This one?” you ask and Jongho gives you a huff, a sympathetic smile showing on his face.

“Did you hear what I said?” he questions, coming closer to put his hand above yours. “Wear what’s comfortable. Your parents won’t expect you to look like you’re going to some big event.”

“Well you’re the one talking…” You shoot his outfit a look - neat black pants paired with a knitted sweater in dark colors and a button-up shirt underneath it. You can tell he put at least some thought behind it.

“Hey,” his gums show as he smiles at you. “I’m trying to leave a good impression on your parents, okay? You’re their daughter, not the boyfriend who needs to make sure they like him,” he chuckles.

“They already love you. You could show up in pajamas and they’d be fine with it,” you retort.

“I wouldn’t take it that far.” You put the necklaces back to their assigned space in your boyfriend’s wardrobe, before closing its doors. You decide against wearing one after all.

“Actually… we still have time, so I want to ask you something,” you start, turning towards him. “Let’s sit down first?”

“Sure.” You notice by the way his stance changes ever so slightly that your partner can sense you have a more or less serious question. Really, you’re just curious about something that’s been on your mind for a while now. Making yourselves comfortable in the living room, you clear your throat and pose your question.

“You’re being very careful… ever since we started experimenting more while having sex,” you state. “And I appreciate that! It’s just making me wonder if there’s a reason to that, other than for general safety’s sake? Because I feel like you really don’t have to check in with me as many times as you do.” You were afraid he might not share your opinion on this, and feel criticized for something that seems perfectly reasonable to him. But to your relief he seems to know what you’re trying to say.

“Ah… you’re right,” Jongho responds, and then he thinks for a while. “There is a reason for that, actually,” he then says. You guess it might have something to do with his previous girlfriend, and it looks like you’re correct in that assumption. “I told you about how me and my ex tried going in that direction too, right?”

“Right.” The way he suddenly becomes very serious makes you tense up as well - it’s like a barely noticeable darkness reflecting in his gaze.

“So we didn’t want the same things… a lot of the time. There was this one specific thing - I’ll spare you the details here - that she kept wanting to try out but I always said no because it felt too risky for me.”

“Makes sense.”

“And one day we were out with friends, drinking.” You have a hunch what his story might lead up to, and you furrow your eyebrows as you listen on. “And we came home tipsy. Not totally drunk, we were still aware of what we were doing, but also not sober. And this time I gave in, thinking if it’s something that will give my partner pleasure, it will be fine.”

“It wasn’t fine…?” you guess, and a short and regretful laugh escapes him.

“No…”

“Oh,” you breathe.

“I hurt her that day. Not seriously, and not permanently. But it could’ve been avoided… and I think that’s why I’m being so extra careful with you. I swore to myself after that, that I wouldn’t do certain things if I’ve had something to drink or I’m too tired.” He glances up at you now, one finger swiping his hair covering his face to the side as his features soften, and he looks at you as if you were the most precious thing he’s ever laid eyes on. “But I guess I’m more afraid of hurting you than I thought I was.”

“So that’s why…” you respond. “I thought you were overdoing it a bit,” you admit. “But now I get why you’re so focused on making sure I’m okay at all times… thank you.” Grasping his hands in yours now, you look him right in the face. “I mean it. Thank you for keeping me safe.” He can only watch and blush when you bring your joint hands up, brushing a kiss onto his knuckles with your lips. “But now I’m wondering… can you enjoy it like that? I mean.. it must be stressful to always carry that fear with you.” There’s a complicated expression on his face now, and he hesitates for a second before he speaks.

“Yes and no,” he answers honestly. “I am enjoying it, please don’t misunderstand! But… yeah, I think you noticed that overall I’m not letting go as much as I might be able to without those fears. Except for last time…”

“When I called you-”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t let you say it out loud, and you wonder why. Does it really affect him that much?

“Then…” You give him a reassuring smile. “When you’re ready to let go of that fear, you can. I trust that you won’t hurt me. And I promise I will say something if you’ve overstepped a boundary or I feel unsure about something. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mouths. You get up to take a step towards him, closing the distance between the two of you, and you put your arms around him, bringing your hand up into his hair as he leans into your embrace. “Sorry for overcomplicating things and not telling you sooner,” he mutters, but you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, fingers combing through his locks. “You have a very good reason. Don’t feel pressured to go against your gut feeling, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you too for understanding.”

You remain like this for a while, and the longer you stay in this position, the harder it becomes to tear yourself away from the warmth of the hug. However, eventually you force yourself to step back anyway, because it is soon time to make your way to your parent’s place.

It’s half past 6 on this Saturday when the two of you arrive at your destination to have dinner with your parents and your grandparents. The invitation had come suddenly, and not completely unrelated to your cousin revealing that she and her long-time boyfriend would get married soon. Your mother had already warned you over the phone that she wanted to discuss some “details” with you, and that you and Jongho should come over for dinner on the weekend. You could only guess that those details would be mostly about trying to convince you what you should wear for the occasion according to her, and once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for that fear to come true. 

“Oh my, who do we have here?” your mother greets you and, mostly, your boyfriend, who she seems to like a lot. It’s really no secret that ever since you first introduced him to her, she too wishes her daughter would get married soon. Though you’re nowhere near ready for taking such a huge step, so whenever the topic arises, you do your best to quickly switch to a different one. However, today her concerns aren’t of your marital status, but of - as you had guessed - your planned outfit for your cousin’s wedding. 

Pulling you aside after making sure everyone else is seated at the dinner table, entertaining themselves with a conversation about who knows what, her demeanor immediately changes and she becomes serious.

“So, Y/N…” The moment she calls you by your name, you startle just a little bit. “I’ve been thinking.” Whenever she uses that line, you know something uncomfortable is about to go down.

“What is it?” you reply, acting as if you didn’t already know the answer.

“For your cousin’s wedding… you’re not gonna show up in that suit again, right?” Memories of the last occasion you decided to go with neat dark blue dress pants and a fitting blazer instead of the dress that multiple people apparently expected you to wear come back to you and you gulp. 

“I was going to,” you say, and your mother sighs. It’s a condescending sigh, one that’s supposed to tell you how naive and young you are and how you should trust your mother’s words, who surely knows better. 

“You should wear a dress at least for her wedding,” she says. “Don’t you think? I mean… every young woman there is going to wear one!”

“How do you know that?” you dare to talk back at her, but she raises her eyebrows at you in response. Evading your question, she continues,

“You’re so young and such a pretty girl! It would be a waste if you went in pants.” With a bitter taste in your mouth and a glance towards the living room where the conversation seems to be dying down a bit, you retort,

“Mom, can we talk about this another time? I think everyone’s waiting for us to join…” Not expecting your attempt at getting out of this uncomfortable conversation to work, you’re surprised when she gives in and you find her agreeing with you. 

“Okay, I’ll call you about it during the week. Don’t even think about not picking up!” she adds, lifting a finger as a silent warning, and then she lets you off the hook, walking into the living room where everyone else is gathered. Letting out a deep sigh, you too follow.

Eventually you reach the part of the evening where the conversations of your family members are starting to bore you. Just because you've moved past the uncomfortable questions (at least you know your mother won’t bother you about your outfit for the wedding in front of the others) doesn't mean you feel particularly up for engaging in their small talk and occasional political debate. If you're being completely honest, you just might've been fine if it was only the small talk.

Yet here you are, watching your parents and grandparents argue about economics and politicians, and from the way Jongho is reaching over to place his hand on your thigh and gives it a gentle squeeze as he tries not to frown too much at what's unfolding at the table, you can tell he notices your discomfort too. And it's not like you didn't warn him, it's not like he didn't assure you multiple times that it's fine, he doesn't mind, he wants to come to your family dinner anyway. But now you can't help but feel apologetic to him. 

As if he knew what's going through your head when you shoot him a look, your eyebrows furrowed, he shakes his head and leans in to whisper in your ear,

"Are you okay?" Frankly, you're not okay per se. Used to this is what you are, and equating one with the other in your mind, you give him a weak nod.

"They'll stop... eventually," you whisper back, so the people in question wouldn't hear. And they really do stop a mere moment later. To your dismay, they pause their noise only to comment on you and your boyfriend instead.

"The two lovebirds... look at how they can't wait until they're alone." It's your grandma of all people who makes the comment, a knowing grin sitting on her face and you feel uncomfortable. You know it's just how people act when they see a young couple - they tease. But that doesn't mean you particularly appreciate what's probably just an expression of them being happy for you.

"Mom!" your mother exclaims and everyone laughs. You glance over at Jongho, and you see him smiling along to their bickering. It's a polite smile, nothing more, because he knows how much you hate receiving this kind of attention.

"Well it's true, isn't it?" your grandma defends herself, the creases around her eyes deepening with mischief. "We were like this too when we were their age." Now she shoots your grandpa a look, one filled with warmth as he gives her a somewhat awkward laugh because of her straightforwardness, and then puts his arm around her frame to pull her in close for a moment. You can't help but wonder if you too will still be as in love with your partner once you've reached their age, and your gaze naturally wanders over to your boyfriend sitting next to you. The familiar sight of his smile, the way he lowers his head ever so slightly because after all he's still a little shy around your family, and the way he sits up straight the exact moment your father asks him a question to start a conversation all fill your chest with warmth. Without thinking, he lets his palm glide up and down your thigh once as he answers, and just as you're about to put your hand above his, he deprives you of his touch, gesturing along with the way he talks instead. You listen to them chat as the rest of the family returns to political debates, and in your father's face you can unmistakably see that, just like your mother, he's taking a liking to your boyfriend, and it fills you with relief. And yet you soon find your mind drifting off again, wondering what would happen if your boyfriend put his hand back on your thigh, letting it wander just a bit higher. Wondering how far he could technically go without anyone else at the table noticing - though you know he’d never cross the line in front of other people. And so instead you fantasize about how he would continue unknowingly riling you up, or maybe he’d be aware of it, he is Jongho after all. He’d tease you and keep an eye on you all while making sure to keep the conversation going naturally, so that not a single soul would even guess that you’re craving for him to touch you, and he’s craving for you to beg for it. And then, after dinner is finally over, he’d pull you to another room, and-

Jongho’s hand actually returning to your thigh pulls you out of your thoughts, and as he glances over to you, noticing how your mind is drifting off further and further from the conversation at the dinner table, he moves his palms a little more towards the inside of your leg. You almost startle at the sensation, and at what it inevitably stirs up inside of you, and so you turn to look at him. As soon as you do, you find him already staring back at you, the expression on his face having changed almost unnoticeably. He leans in to mutter something in your ear again, and with it, his fingertips move towards your middle just a bit, sparking desire deep inside you once again.

"Shall we get out of here for a minute?" Thankful for his suggestion, you nod, and with the excuse of you having a headache along with assuring everyone that you'll be fine, you just need some quiet, so as to prevent anyone from following you two, he leads you out of the living room and towards the bathroom at the other end of the corridor. As soon as you close the door behind you, locking up as well, he pulls you towards him by the hand he's already holding.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyes wandering to your lips instinctively, and with his free hand he captures your chin.

"Whatever..." you breathe.

"Don't say that," your boyfriend retorts, tilting his head to the side a little, now looking you in the eyes instead. "I can tell you kept zoning out in the middle of their conversations."

"Can you blame me?" You give him a huff and a weak smile as you look away and he lets go of your chin to comb his fingers through your hair instead.

"No, to be honest." Now he as well shows you an apologetic smile. "What were you thinking about when trying to drown out the sound of their arguing?" 

"Just... nothing much," you answer, suddenly worried about whether he saw right through you or if his question didn't have so much meaning behind it after all.

"You sure? I noticed that you were upset when I took my hand away earlier... you sure it was nothing much?" You gulp at his tone, the way his voice alone reveals that he very much has a pretty good guess about what you've been fantasizing about for most of the evening. And at the same time he's now taking a step towards you, forcing you to back away and eventually your behind hits the edge of the sink, with your boyfriend now towering above you.

"I..." you try to say something, but it seems your body language already tells him everything he needs to know, because now he's placing one hand on the small of your back as he leans in, his lips hovering just beside your ear.

"Cause I've been thinking about dragging you off to somewhere else and putting you in a better mood for a whole while now." You swallow thickly, and when he takes a proper look at your face to see your reaction to his words, all you can do is part your lips and whisper a confession.

"Me too." He retrieves his hand from behind you, his palm wandering to your sides and then to your front, dragging it up across your chest and letting his fingertips graze your throat on its journey to finally cupping your face. Your eyelids flutter shut almost instantly as his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, and then he leans in, coming to a halt a mere inch apart from you.

"Want me to entertain you for a bit?" His enticing offer leaves you unable to do anything but nod, and when you take a glance at his face you don't miss the look he’s giving you, knowing he already has you under his spell. However, Jongho doesn't leave you much time to think about it as he kisses you slowly, a pace meant solely to make you crave for more. You throw your arms around his shoulders as you let him part your lips to deepen the kiss, and still it ends too soon. The pleading expression in your eyes only makes him chuckle, but for now he gives you what you undeniably want and he kisses you again. 

His hands wander towards your hips eventually, and after pulling down your pants and underwear just enough for comfortable access, one of his hands keeps you in place while the other finds your core. A mere finger, dragged up and down your folds painfully slowly, is enough to have you moan into his kiss, and next thing you know he pulls back and ceases all motions. Shaking his head at you, he mutters,

"They might hear us."

"R-right..." you whisper an answer, already having forgotten all about your family still chatting merrily not too far away from you. 

"Let's be careful," Jongho says, shushing you while momentarily removing his hand from your side. Not letting you wait, he continues his teasing motions, and you bite your bottom lip as you try not to make a sound under his touch and his more than curious gaze scanning even the tiniest of your reactions. "What?" he whispers, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice. "Didn't think you'd already be that wet just from thinking about me all evening." And before you can even come up with anything to say in your defense, he dips a finger inside you quite effortlessly, and your hips instinctively buck into his hand. The act makes him smirk, and he pushes you back into the edge of the sink to keep you from moving around. Clicking his tongue at you as quietly as he possibly can while the amusement in his gaze is apparent, he says,

"So impatient." Furrowing your brows, you shoot him a pleading expression that causes his features to soften, and he adds another finger. "That what you want?" Nodding, you can see his eyes growing darker, and you squeeze yours tightly shut as he watches on, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Feels so good, hm?" he keeps talking, his voice low and quiet, and you dig your fingertips into the fabric of his shirt where it covers his shoulders.

"Y-yeah..." you answer, doing everything in your might to keep your volume at a whisper.

"Shh," he, however, shushes you. "Don't talk. You don't wanna risk getting caught, do you?" And so you do as he says, merely shaking your head vigorously, and earning yourself a kiss brushed against your lips.

"Good girl." And then he picks up the pace just a bit, thumb now pressed against your clit, and the way he curls his fingers against that perfect spot deep inside you makes your head spin.

"Fuck," you mouth, and you earn a sharp look from your boyfriend, but he keeps going nonetheless. You can feel your knees getting weak as you melt under his touch, heatwaves rushing through your body with every time he pulls out and pushes back inside. And then, just as your high starts building up in your stomach and you throw your head back, he pulls out just as slowly as he started. For a second you stare at him blankly, but when he takes a step back, you immediately find yourself protesting.

"Don't do this... not now, please..." You can tell exactly how satisfied he is with himself for riling you up like that and then withdrawing just as you were about to find your sweet release by the cocky grin he's giving you, head leaned back ever so slightly so he could triumphantly look down at you even better.

"Why?" he asks. "It's far too risky to let you lose control. Remember?" He leans in closer now, his fingers that have just been inside your pussy merely a few seconds ago now brushing against your lips just before he leans in, the tip of his tongue licking your juices off your mouth. "They might hear us." Unable to say a word, all you can do is reach out for him, cling to him as he tries to walk backwards.

"No, please... baby... need you so bad..." You press your thighs together tightly as you speak those words, his gaze immediately dropping down to your legs as he registers the movement, and as his pupils darken, he slowly lets his eyes wander back up to your face.

"Then what do you want?" 

"Just fuck me please... do whatever you want but please fuck me..." 

"Love..." he calls out to you rather softly now, quite in contrast to the firm grip on your ass that he pulls you towards him with. You suck in a breath as you can unmistakably feel his bulge against your lower stomach, but Jongho doesn't waver. "I don't think you can keep quiet if I do whatever I want with you."

"I can... please..." you push him, and he seems to ponder on your plea for a moment. Just when he lets go of you, you think this is it, you're not getting what you want tonight, but then you see him unzip his own pants, and before you can think any further, he orders, 

"Turn around." You don't hesitate. All you do is do as he says, facing yourself in the mirror as you bend over the sink as far as the insufficient space between its edge and the glass surface in front of you lets you. You can see his eyes being glued to you from behind, one hand moving to your back and pulling your shirt up as your boyfriend moves it towards your shoulders, while he's giving himself a few strokes with the other. His palm wanders back down, fingertips tracing your spine, and you arch your back for him as he follows your shape, eventually letting his hand rest on your ass.

"That's right," he mutters, rubbing circles onto your skin before squeezing the flesh. For a second there you prepare yourself for impact, but he's already steadying your hips, aligning himself with your cunt. Even just his tip parting your folds makes you shudder, and so he leans forward, until he can comfortably place his hand over your mouth.

"Is it okay if I do that?" he asks, whispering, and you nod your head in desperation. At this point you think you'd comply with almost anything if only he finally filled you up, and at the same time you feel warmth spreading in your chest as he checks in on you and makes sure you're comfortable. And then he pushes up into you, forcing you to bite down a moan that would've almost escaped, and you find yourself agreeing with his earlier words. There really is no way in hell you could keep quiet when he has his way with you. And yet you manage to keep it down as he settles inside you with his full size.

"One sound and I won't let you cum, got that?" he warns, and you can barely nod as he begins rolling his hips into you. Though he starts slow, he too seems close to losing his composure as he picks up speed, using you to chase his own high as well. And even though the pleasure keeps gradually building up deep inside of you, you can keep it together so far. However, when his other hand lets go of your hips so he could rub circles against your clit instead, you know he's about to drive you insane. And so, as a moan threatens to escape your throat, you do the only other thing you can think of as an alternative - you sink your teeth into the palm of his hand. With him bringing you closer to the edge with every repetition of his movements, you don't pay attention to the impact of your actions, but when you bite down harder you can suddenly hear your boyfriend hissing a curse above you.

"Fuck..." Finding the reflection of his face in the mirror and the way his features distort in pleasure as he fucks you harder only causes you to apply even more force to how you’re biting down on his palm, and in turn he tightens his grip on your face. Squeezing your eyes shut as you're about to roll them back from all the sensations coursing through your body, your orgasm comes crashing down on you, shaking you whole. Only a mere second later, a strained grunt escapes your boyfriend as he cums inside you, halting at once to allow for you both to come down from your highs.

He pulls out carefully as you release his hand, and grabbing a few paper towels, he begins cleaning you up. With one arm around your waist he helps you stand, the other wiping clean the insides of your thighs, making you shake whenever he grazes your still sensitive core. 

"You okay?" he asks finally, placing a kiss just below your ear as he holds you close, letting you rest with your back against his chest.

"Yeah..." you whisper, before remembering his hand. "What about you?" You turn around, reaching for his wrist to take a closer look at his palm, only to find very apparent bite marks there. You can't help but snort at the situation, remarking, "Well, I guess it's not the noise we need to worry about now." 

"Ah... right..." Taking a look at the mark himself, an embarrassed smile now graces his face, gums showing as his ears take on a soft shade of pink. You take a hold of his hand again, bringing it up to your mouth now.

"It's okay," you say, blowing some cool air onto it, before placing gentle kisses all over the mark. "I'll make it better."

You return to the table significantly later than what would’ve been a timespan where you could be sure nobody would get suspicious, but thankfully the only question you receive is whether your “headache” is better now or not as everyone’s busy cleaning up the table. Your boyfriend immediately takes a heavy looking stack of dirty plates from your mother’s hands and carries them to the kitchen instead, and once again it makes you happy to see what a good impression your parents have of him. 

“You really picked a good guy, Y/N,” your mother tells you as she moves over closer to you, and you agree silently as you glance over to where his back is disappearing in the kitchen. Caught up in your feelings, you startle as she claps her hands together next to you, the loud sound immediately makes you look at her. “You get to work too! You’re gonna have to be a good wife to him!”

“Mom!” you call out, finding several things that bother you about that sentence, but in the end only addressing one. “We haven’t even been dating for that long!”

“Oh,” she throws one hand over her mouth, before smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes, just like your grandma had done earlier. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. But can you blame me?” Now putting her hand on your shoulder, she points in the direction of the kitchen, and following her movement with your eyes, your gaze soon comes to rest on your boyfriend, who gives you a smile upon noticing.

“Jongho,” you call out to him to make him come over to you. “Can you tell my mom to stop simping over you?”

“What?” they ask, in unison, but very much for different reasons, as your boyfriend can’t help but smile in amusement, whereas your mother adds, “What’s simping…?” And before you can explain, your boyfriend chimes in,

“It’s a good thing, I promise.” 

“Ah, well,... either way, someone’s gonna have to get dessert ready, and I assume it’s not your father,” your mother switches topic, shooting you a look. And then, glancing at Jongho and then back to you, she adds, “But that won’t be a problem you’re gonna have, right?” Walking away with that, she leaves you to protest in vain and to internally die of embarrassment, and when you see your boyfriend merely laughing at the situation, you’re not sure if that makes it better or worse. 

“God, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you here…” you mutter, but he shakes his head, one arm snaking around your body loosely.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay,” he tries to reassure you, and yet your mood won’t change.

“But I’m not… I hate it when they are like this. They act like we’re already married…”

“Hey…” He pulls you aside, fingertips dancing down your arms until he takes a hold of your hands. “They like me. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess…” you say, averting your gaze because you really don’t want to keep discussing this, but at the same time you can’t shake the feeling that they’re taking this too far too quickly. And instead of dwelling on the topic, your boyfriend now finds reason to complain about something entirely different.

“You guess?” he asks, his tone making it sound like he’s upset, but the playful spark in his gaze as he raises his eyebrows at you tells you he’s just fooling around. 

“I mean… no, it’s a good thing,” you correct yourself, shooting him a thankful smile for attempting to cheer you up and then letting him pull you into a quick hug, before your mother starts calling everyone to the dinner table again in order to have dessert. It’s self-made chocolate cake, sweet just as you like it, and even though you know it couldn’t possibly match your boyfriend’s tastes, he still finishes his entire plate.

“This is why they like you so much,” you mutter eventually, when people start moving again to get ready for bed. “You’re risking a tummy ache just to make them happy.” He can’t say anything to that, having been caught red-handed by you, who wouldn’t not know his ulterior motive behind forcing himself through sugary hell. So instead, you get up, touching his shoulder lightly as you do. “Let’s get ready for bed too?”

You help your mother put the remaining plates and cutlery into the dishwasher before brushing your teeth and eventually moving to your old room with your boyfriend. Making yourselves comfortable under your blanket which is that much fluffier than the one you’re using at his place, you immediately feel sleep tugging at your bones and you let out a content sigh.

“Say…” you mumble, facing him as you’re both rolled over onto your sides. “You didn’t seem so anxious about possibly hurting me today.”

“Oh, you’re right,” he whispers a response, sounding as if he hadn’t really noticed that fact himself.

“Is it because we didn’t have much time?” you ask, grinning at the thought of your dirty little secret that you’re keeping from everyone else in the house. Jongho thinks for a short while, but then he shakes his head along with an “mh-mh” coming from his side.

“Because I trust you.” Your smile widens at his words. “I think the trust that you’ll say no if you want me to stop is finally bigger than the fear of accidentally hurting you…”

“That’s good,” you respond, reaching out to place your palm onto his cheek, squishing it lightly between your fingers and contrary to the expected reaction, Jongho merely raises his eyebrows at you slowly, as if he couldn’t properly process what you just did. Letting go of him, you move your hand towards the back of his head instead and your partner shows you a delayed shy smile. “I’m really glad for that,” you whisper, before you roll onto your back and he reaches out for your hand in order to place a goodnight kiss onto the back of it.

“Me too.”

[munsonluhvr]

MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER (DAY #3: LOVE LETTER EVENT)

contents: steve harrington x reader. nsfw! At a matchmaking event in Hawkins, you and Steve are introduced to each other for the first time and let's just say - the sparks fly. for clarification, steve is about 27, 28. word count - 2.3k

notes: welcome to day 3 of the love letter event; i hope you all have enjoyed it so far! i dont even care if this fic is hasty in the plot, i love a good hook up with stranger!steve. point blank period.

love letter event masterlist

“Could this get any worse?” A blonde girl with a name tag that reads ‘Anna’ says, shaking her head as her eyes scan the room. “I thought we would be meeting real men not these boys.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling pleased that other’s feel similar to you. You’re at the first matchmaking event in Hawkins, standing in the gymnasium at Hawkins High School as you mingle with the opposite sex in hopes of finding a potential partner. However, the selection was less then subpar, and you were debating going home.

“I couldn’t agree with you more, the concept sounded a lot better when I saw the flyer, now I’m wondering what I’m doing here.” You respond to ‘Anna.’ The girl sighs in response, swirling the wine in her glass, her bracelets clinking together. A beat later, Anna speaks up again. “Happy Valentine’s Day to us, I guess.”

Your eyes look around, seeing the large group of people that mingle about the room. Cutout hearts made from red and pink construction paper are taped to the walls, adding color to the bland gymnasium. Many tall, standalone tables are scattered around the room, covered in tablecloths, host Valentine’s decorations in the middle of the tabletop, chocolate Hershey kisses scattered around. It looks like a high school dance.  

There must be a hundred people that attend the matchmaking event, you had overheard the hosts of the event that it was a bigger turnout then they initially expected; an even fifty men and fifty women. When you saw the flyer for the event when you walked out of Melvald’s General Store, you thought it would be interesting, something to get you out of your comfort zone and meeting people. An event created just for young adults to meet each other, spark conversation, and foster romantic connections; what could be better? Though, now you stand in the gymnasium, watching poorly dressed men, men who couldn’t even make eye contact, exert larger than life egos and flaunting how they’ll ‘get lucky’ tonight. It didn’t help that you got all dressed up, spent close to an hour picking out the right outfit, applying your makeup flawlessly, styling your hair just right. It was a bummer; the night had had so much potential.

 There wasn’t a single cute guy you saw at the event, and you had really tried to be open minded too. You let men sweet talk you, let them think you would give them a chance, but none of them peaked your interest, none made you curious. That is until Steve.

You are about to throw in the towel, standing against the wall with several women who were feeling identical to your feelings, but something tells you to give it one more go. “Wish me luck,” you whisper to Anna, pushing yourself off the wall. Anna offers you a sympathetic smile, lifting her glass towards you. You spy an empty table, deciding to park yourself there and allow anyone to approach you. You wobble in your high heels, the color of them pink to make your outfit cute and colorful, but you confidently stride over to the empty table that is at the other side of them room.

Once you reach the table, you take a sip of your wine, letting the liquid trickle down your throat. You wish you drank more when you walked into the event, it would have made the experience so much more tolerable.

You play nonchalant, casually resting on the tabletop. Instantly, Steve Harrington is captured by your presence as he notices you from the across the room. He notices you’re all alone and he is quick to get to you before anyone else. Steve rounds behind you, stepping off to the side to announce his presence to you. “What is a beauty like you standing all alone over here?”

You smile, a hot flush washing over your body. Not only is this man that stands in front of you the most attractive man at the event, he’s also the most attractive man you’ve seen in your entire life. “Waiting for a guy like you to come talk to me.” You say, a playful smile lingering on your mouth.

Steve laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m glad I came over here then. You’re y/n?” Steve says, squinting to look at your small nametag. You nod, mimicking his glance, you squint and get a look at his nametag. “And you’re Steve?” Steve leans towards the tabletop, nodding. “Steve Harrington. Also known as your next boyfriend.”

You raise your eyebrows, amused by his answer. There was something that was different then the other guys you have met so far. He’s seemingly got an edge to him, something that makes you curious and want to get to know him. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly attractive, a sweet twinkle in his chocolate brown eyes. “Is that so?” you say, tilting your head to the side.

Steve nods, taking a sip of his wine. “If you let me.”

You smile, feeling a blush creep across your cheeks. You laugh softly, shaking your head. You like that he’s confident, playful, but not arrogant. “You’re just cute enough that I might let you.” You say, placing your glass on the table beside you. You decide in this moment that you’d let this ‘Steve Harrington’ ruin your life.

Steve smiles, amusement playing across his face. Steve is slightly mad at himself as he lets his eyes graze over your body. Steve had come to the matchmaking event to find a partner, a girlfriend, it was time for him to settle down. He had left his playboy habits in the past, trying to mature over the several years he has been single, but Steve can’t help but let thoughts of bending you over enter his mind; it’s hasty, Steve knows that. 

“Is that so?” Steve says, mimicking you. You smile, laughing lightly. You nod; giving it up easily was not part of your plan for tonight but as the minutes pass by with Steve in your presence, your plans change quickly. “Met anybody tonight that peaked your interest?” Steve asks, looking past you to the crowd that continues to mingle behind you.

“Just you,” you say, biting your lip.

“Ah,” Steve says, putting his attention back onto you. “So, there’s a chance I could ask you to dinner and you’d say yes?”

You shrug. “There’s a possibility.”

Steve continues to be amused by you, shaking his head. “Is there a chance I could drive you home before anyone else approaches you and takes away the small possibility I have?”

You laugh. You had already been ready to leave and you were grateful that you didn’t have to take the bus back home. “Certainly.”

After retrieving yours and Steve’s coats, you take a walk across the parking lot, instantly greeted by the brisk, February air. You close your coat across your body, attempting to conserve any body heat. Steve walks beside you, ushering your body across the parking lot to his station wagon. Once you approach the car, Steve walks you to the passenger seat but he pauses.   

Steve gives you a look, one that you received many times from men. His eyes exhibit hunger, a deep interest in getting to know you beneath your clothes. You debate it in your mind, though you already know you’re going decide. Should you ignore Steve’s inviting look, only accepting his proposal to drive you home? Where’s the fun in that? Sure, it’s a bit crazy to hook up with someone after you met him only a short while ago. It is Valentine’s day after all, love is indeed in the air.

You let Steve grab ahold of your hips, his mouth finding yours with ease. Upon contact, you taste the light flavor of the wine they severed inside at the event, his tongue swiping across the bottom of your lip. It has been so long since you’ve been touched, your body instantly obliges by making your cunt slick with arousal. Steve leans you up against the side of his car, his body pressing against yours. His strong hands cup your face, your arms wrapped around his middle, as you help bring your two bodies together. There is a sense of urgency in his movements, his fingers tremble with anticipation.

Maneuvering around your body, Steve pulls open the door to the backseat of his station wagon, gently pulling you to the side to encourage you to get in. You break your mouth from his, backing yourself into the backseat of his car. Your heart pounds against your chest, the anticipation beginning to take a toll on you. Steve climbs into the car after you, letting his body hover over yours. Leaning back slightly, Steve pulls the car door shut, and begins to pull his jacket off, tossing it into the front seat. You follow, your fingers fumbling as you unzip the side of your dress, shrugging it off your body. You’re left in your undergarments, watching Steve as he strips his clothes of piece by piece.

Once Steve’s shirt is off, exposing his bare chest, which your hands immediately explore, and he’s shrugged his pants off, leaving him in his boxers, you lean back on the seats, parting your legs. Steve positions himself over you, letting his mouth re-connect with yours. “You’re so beautiful,” Steve mumbles against your lips, his fingers toying with the straps of your bra, gently pulling each strap down. You hook your fingers into your panties, pulling them off swiftly. Your fingers move quickly to the band of Steve’s boxers, working to pull them off too. At the same time, Steve continues to work at pulling your bra down, pulling it further down your torso, exposing your nipples. Steve breaks his mouth from yours once more, planting kisses from your jaw, down your throat, to your chest. Cupping your breast with one hand, maneuvering your breast into his mouth, his tongue brushing across your nipple. Upon contact, your head throws back, your fingers moving from his boxers into his lush hair.

Steve can’t take the anticipation any longer, reaching down his body to shrug his boxers off. Before you have any time to process, Steve pushes himself into you, your legs tightening around his waist. You gasp, your hands gripping Steve’s biceps. Steve moves inside of you at an even pace, beginning to stroke your sensitive spot, encouraging your eyes to roll into the back of your head. You whimper, his large size asking your cunt to accept his size, though you had never delt with anyone quite as large as Steve.

Your grip around Steve’s bicep tightens, his cock stretching you out. With each stroke, you feel Steve immerse himself deeply in you, small grunts escaping his mouth. You moan softly, against Steve’s skin, as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, placing kisses in between grunts. Though it’s freezing outside, cold breezes finding its way into the car, the heat from yours and Steve’s bodies makes the inside of the car hot, fog beginning to form on the windows. The pleasure courses through your body, you reach up in response, your fingers brushing the cold glass of the windows. As Steve moves between your thighs, your legs part, your leg resting against the front seats of the car. “Fuck, Steve.” You whisper, your back arching against his movements. Steve’s name feels foreign rolling off your tongue, though you feel as if you could get used to saying it on a regular basis.  

Steve can barely contain himself as he ruts into you, taking glances at your face which enamors him. Steve has known you for a short while, in reality – less than half an hour, and Steve hopes he gets to know you mor just beyond sex in the back of his car, but at this moment, Steve has never experienced a cunt that wrapped so tightly around him. Steve leans up off your body, lifting your legs so he’s cradling your legs against him, as he strokes into you. He gazes down at you, watching your eyes flutter shut, your lips part, soft moans escaping your lips, your breasts bouncing rhythmically. Underneath the two of you, Steve’s vehicle rocks, reminding Steve that you are in a public place, and that your activities go unnoticed.  

Steve shortens his strokes, his breath becoming ragged as he begins to get closer to finishing. Your body craves him more, your skin tingling under his touch, as your core begins to tighten in your lower abdomen. You whine softly, the pressure building inside of you by the second. Steve’s slow movements aren’t curing your need for him, lifting your hips you grind against him, making up for his slow movements. Steve moves his hands down, his fingers locking around your hip bones, pulling your bottom into him. Steve groans, his eyes fluttering shut, his eyebrows knitting together, as he feels you move against him, at your own temp. And it feels heavenly to him, curing his intense lust for you. Without warning, Steve finishes deep into you, one last moan escaping his throat.

At the same time, your body tenses, an orgasm ricocheting through you. Your legs twinge, shaking around his body. You slump against the seat, your hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You’re breathless, your chest rising and falling, as Steve removes himself from inside you. Steve inhales several times, attempting to regain his breath. “Wow,” is all Steve says, his limbs loose and weak, as he leans against the car door.

You sit up, noticing the handprint you had made on the window, the bottom of the handprint dripping down, similar to the horror movies. You smile softly; the sex had been that good.

“Can I still take you home and out for dinner later this week?” Steve says, pulling his clothes back onto him. You smile again, looking towards Steve. “Definitely, I’d love that.”

[goodeapple]

someone could come love me, if somebody knew me (aemond t. pwp o.s.)

AS IT WAS PROMISED, SO SHALL IT BE BESTOWED.

"Aemond has a dragon dick, send tweet."

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : Pretty tame I'd say- handjobs, slight oral play, fantasy of exhibitionism, Aemond's dark little mind & his big ole dragon dick.

word count : 3,000+

title from "fue mejor", Kali Uchis & SZA

Ysilla’s line of sight darts to his crotch, peering intensely at the leather holding him in. She stares, gaze unbroken and unbothered, even as he fidgets under her scrutiny. 

“Can I see it?”

Her inflection is curious, lacking a lustful lilt and somehow, that makes this all the more humiliating. 

“I am not a thing for you to study, wicked girl.” The Dragon Prince snarls. He feels heat pulsate in his face. As if he is a monster, reduced to the oddity of his anatomy instead of the man, the scholar, the fighter he has fashioned himself to be by his own will and his own way. But now, he is nothing but a butterfly pinned in place as strangers pick him apart with a sickened curiosity. The socket of his absent eye aches wildly, a sympathetic partner to the abnormality between his knees.

“Pleaseee, Uncle.” His niece’s pleading compels her to her feet, her fingers lacing together to bring a begging fist under her chin. Her heart-shaped face is cherubic, lips parted in a prayer that Aemond wants to answer with his tongue. Or better yet, his cock. The vision of that, of him feeding every fat inch of his pole downdowndown her throat, until she would choke on him and make sweet tears roll down her cheeks… it seems so real, so well within his limits to make true. 

Aemond snorts, tossing her a disdainful look, one he musters from his very tangible dislike for her and those she holds closest. 

“Don’t beg, Silli, it doesn’t suit you. I said no- I’m positive you’ve never heard that before, but I’m not your papa.” His sneer twists his thin lips down, transforming his regal visage into something ugly. “I won’t give into your every whim just because you bat those pretty eyes at me.” 

Ysilla gazes blithely back at him, swaying on the balls of her feet. Her dress flutters around her ankles, the delicate chains wrapped around the fragile bone there catching the candlelight. She’s barefoot- curiously. Her amber satin slippers were shucked off at the door before she had sunk into the too big chair in the center of his room. To quite simply make herself comfortable- to carve out a space wherever she lands, is a trait Aemond finds irritating but commendable. 

At once, an impish smile illuminates her face, her irises lavender in bloom. “You think my eyes are pretty?” 

Aemond bottles in a groan, gritting his teeth in exasperation. Such a little brat. 

“That’s swell because… I think yours are pretty too, Uncle. Especially your hidden jewel.” Ysilla draws closer and closer, and the walls seem to cinch around them. She shouldn’t be here- he may be her blood but Ysilla is unwed and young and beautiful beyond her means. He should have sent her away when she came knocking, a small bound journal promising something of importance to him, her ticket into his den. Giddiness had manifested in the trembling of her fingers and he couldn't lie- he was intrigued. If only to watch Ysilla’s fire extinguish when he paid no thought to whatever had caught her fancy. 

“I dreamt about it last night. It adorned my crown- not my tiara- my crown as Queen. Nestled front and center, staring down any man, any woman, who kneeled before me. Guarding me, protecting me, loyal… to me.” 

Aemond puts desperate distance between them, her words striking a match within him.

Ysilla’s spiraling locks threaded through the Conqueror’s Crown, refined but still imposing, seated on the forged throne. Aemond gleaming in white, a striking savior at her side, first Lord Commander of the Queensguard. And even when he cannot be there, his jewel watches over all. An All Seeing Eye. He does not replace his surrogate orb. It be a piece of himself he shells out to shield her, and then, when they’re together, he’s comple-

The back of his knees meet resistance and he stills, refusing to bask in the jasmine gust brought forth by his niece’s closeness. She brings her palm to his jerkin covered chest and presses- urging, asking. Aemond stares down at her. She’s so tiny compared to him, so much smaller, weaker but she might as well have a blade to his throat.

He gives, settling into the armchair, wishing to become one with the buttons and the stitchings. When she drops to her knees, it is with a grace that is ingrained in her, blended into every shift of her body. 

“I want to touch you, Aemond. I want to make you feel good.”

Her hand creeps along, fingertips dancing over his clothed thigh, conquering the distance to his laces like a soldier riding through a battlefield. Aemond feels himself start to surrender, a loss he will still win as the heat from Ysilla’s palm leeches through the hide of his breeches. He’s warm all over, tongue heavy in his mouth, words too much to muster. Beads of sweat lick their way down the nape of his neck. 

Ysilla stares at him, her chest level with his knees. There’s too much light in here. He can see every delicious inch of her. No shadows to hide in, no darkness to dim her. She’s all propped up and on display in the late evening sun beaming through the balcony doors. Every beauty mark dotted along her spun sugar skin is penciled in by hand from the Gods, each strand of blackblue hair dancing away from the heat of her blistering surface. It makes this dream too real. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he blinks and she blows away like a puff of smoke. He breathes out, nerves spiraling in his stomach and spreads his knees. 

Aemond doesn’t make a habit of looking at himself. He washes and dresses with a detachment perfected over the years. When he realized how he differed, when his voice dropped and his bones stretched him to the brim and something else grew right along with him, he had floundered on how to handle it. 

Who was he supposed to ask? His mother was out of the question- Aemond would rather crawl through smoldering embers after scooping out his other eye before he went to her. Aegon was self explanatory; his brother’s failed attempt to drag him down the Street of Silk was enough humiliation to last a lifetime. He toyed with the idea of going to Ser Criston or his grandfather, and some days it did seem tempting but his shame always held him tight by the throat. He was already different, already looked down upon with a pitiful gaze and whispered poor Prince Aemond, such a waste and no eye, no prospects, no future. He didn’t feel like piling on to his already stacked deck. 

“You have to… yeah, and then untie me from, right, just like that.” The back of his eyelid and the pitch of his patch are a comforting darkness as he cycles through the prayers in his head. Warrior, grant me the strength to emerge- no. Mother, I ask your mercy- definitely not. Father, may you judge me justly. Yes, it’s solid, spans the points he needs to make. Aemond settles on it and repeats it, backwards and forwards as the tension imprisoning him in his breeches releases and he feels something spring up and off the flat plains of his abdomen.

“Aemond… Uncle, look at me.” He sucks in a breath through his teeth, ending his litany. It’s no use, his Gods are not listening. He hopes, he regrets, and he caves as he looks down at his lap.

The tip of it curves into a point, not sharp but defined. Blunt thickness runs through his shaft, until the base of him flares garishly into a hard knot. It’s as long as his forearm and thicker than his wrist. He always seems to be at attention, at mast at every surge of adrenaline, every lingering puff of perfume, every dashing neckline of Ysilla’s gowns when she curtsies- no, reign it in. A viciously red mushroom-tapered head splits to allow a bead of excitement to form and trickle down the lengthy march to his stones. He winces, his cock giving a readied pulse as his niece’s palm settles over his groin. 

“Oh, Gods,” Ysilla looks upon him with a wonderment he’s never seen. It stills the air in his lungs. “Aemond, you’re beautiful.” 

Shamefully, that sends him whimpering, the honeyed praise in her tone wrapping him in a caress that stokes the heat in his belly. She glances up at him with a gentle curiosity, but her attention quickly returns between his legs as he jerks from her proximity and the damp warmth of her exhaling breath. 

“Ooohhh, he’s happy to see me.” Her grin is wicked, a toothy pluck of her mouth. Her cheeks are pinker than the Dornish dress Baela gifted her on her nameday last week. 

Cheeky brat. 

Ysilla hocks spit into her hand and Aemond grimaces. Being raised with only brothers has certainly left an impression on her. It's not oil but it’ll do in a pinch. Her fingers are lithe and thin, hands dainty already but seeing one trying to wrap around him? It’s laughable. It’s arousing- painfully so. 

“You didn’t let me finish earlier.” Now that he has nothing to do but listen, his crafty little niece seems to have taken advantage of his predicament. Aemond can’t help but feel a tiny bit impressed. “So when I found the book in the Dragonstone stacks, after I cleaned off the layers of dust, I read all about the many men in Targaryen history who have been… afflicted by this… hardship. Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel- which may have played a part in the six wives- but the last documented entry was well over 50 years ago. A tale forgotten to time and dismissed all the same as just another peculiarity with our family. But this Aemond…” she pumps him slowly, demanding his attention, making him bow for her even when she’s the one on her knees. 

“We are closer to Gods than to men. By our dragons of course, but by this as well! You are something special, can’t you see that?” He likes to hear her excited. Her passion is appetizing, drawing him in to take a bite.

His ego perks up at her attention, but so does his pride. Dragons don’t like to share. Aemond doesn’t like to share. “How do you know if it’s not just me who's been ‘afflicted’?”

Ysilla shrugs, and he doesn’t know her well enough to tell if she’s being untruthful. “I’m very thorough in my research. Just not as quite… hands on as I’m being with you. You’ve always been my favorite uncle.”

Aemond could take her by the hair, twist it nice and tight around his fist, rise to his feet, keep her down on her knees where she belongs- not just there but with him and thrust down her throat until he taps her heart.

“Did you ask my brother the same way you’re asking me?” Aemond growls, nudging at her knee with the side of his boot. He wants to touch her but he has to be careful. His resolve is thinning by the minute and he fears that if he can actually feel her- the suppleness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair, he’ll give way and start something that cannot be undone. 

“Nope, I asked Helaena. Girls talk, Aemond, especially over a flagon of wine.” She elbows his thigh in retribution, but it’s gentle and frivolous and the smile she gives him is all teeth. Fuck, she’s lovely. 

Aemond’s hips jump off the chair, chasing the heat of Ysilla’s hands. She smirks, stroking him softly, the delight in her eyes dimming down to lusty pools of amaranthine.

“So you’re doing this out of what, kindness?”

“I like to think of it more as academic curiosity. But, if I can help you become more comfortable with this part of yourself and maybe even aid your future wife in the process, well that’s just all sugar then, isn’t it?”

“I won’t marry, I will bear no children. I might as well take the Black.” Aemond recites, his tone bored to tears. His future fizzled out to ash once he realized there was no way in any Realm that he could ever properly lay with a woman. He couldn’t, wouldn’t damn any wife to a hopeless tomorrow. Occupying himself with other things helped- he’s a resourceful man. After all, great men never got anywhere by thinking with their cocks. 

Ysilla’s brow furrows and her jaw ticks, an unhappy look passing over her face. “Never say never, Aemond.”

His dick pulses, and Ysilla’s eyes go wide, feeling the might of him in her own grip. She raises her gaze back to this face, and the dazzlement there makes him feel taller than tales. 

Aemond smirks, his straight laces loosening. “I like when you call me that.” 

She pumps him, tightly, and he shivers, a gasp slipping through his drooping jaw. There’s a burn at the base of his spine, a familiar one he would entertain only when his needs raged a war within him.  

Her lips are pouted, shimmering in the dusk drawing the room into darkness. He wants to see the stars sparkle over her skin, the moon crest over her breasts in a gauzy beam. Wants to peel off every offending layer until she’s naked, slick and soft and starving for him and the beast between his legs. 

A stranded curl sways in front of her eye, caught in her fanning lash. His fingers twitch, starting forward before he anchors his nails through the furniture’s stuffing and right down to the frame. Ysilla’s tongue flicks out, wetting her parched lips.

“Do you want to touch me?” 

She wears the crown as she rides him, the Throne Room’s chandelier haloing her dramatically. He’s not sure if they’re alone- the embrace of her hand about his throat keeps his attention on where it is demanded. On her. If there are any stragglers stupid enough to hang around, what an honor it is for them to witness a mating, a claiming. The Dragon Queen taking what’s rightfully hers, for the Gods and everyone to see. 

“No.” 

“You’re a liar, my Prince.” That’s even better than his name, fuck him. 

“I think you want to touch me. I think you want to feel me. I think you want to see… just how far… I’m willing to go.” One solid lick of her tongue, from the root of him to the tip, sends him careening over the edge. Aemond gasps raggedly, a man broken apart. His cock jerks, nearly knocking him in the jaw. Thick ropes of creamy pearl stripe his chest and coat his throat. 

His niece milks him, left hand rubbing up and down his shaft, feeling the veins jump and throb against her palm. And the right, fucks sake, the right squeezes around the flared part of him and the tremors jolt right down to his sack.

“Mmmm, good boy, Aemond.” 

A final burst of cum bubbles up and over the tip of him, and he tries not to shout. Sweet relief blankets the scald from his peak, and the Prince can breathe with a newfound ease.

Ysilla spreads her fingers apart, and his spend webs between them in a milky film. Aemond can’t be sure what she’s thinking, how she’s feeling. But what he certainly doesn’t expect is for her to bring up her fingers to brush at her mouth, plush lips spreading to peek out her tongue. He catches her wrist before she can commit the act, and if he bruises her with his grip, she deserves it for her lustfulness. 

“Don’t.”

Ysilla studies his face, weighing if she can push her luck some more tonight. She concedes, peppering a butterfly kiss across his knuckles, wiping her soiled hand on the fur under her knees. Aemond’s chest tightens and he can’t understand why her simple kiss sends him blushing more than her fist around his cock. 

“Next time, then.”

Hunger nips at him harshly, all the ways they can come together, and cum together, flashing through his mind. 

“There will be no next time-”

“Mmmm, I don’t know if he agrees with that.” She presses her puckered lips just shy of his wet slit, and his hips buck from the sensitivity. Her giggle is demented and a dark part of the silver prince wants to push something down her throat to shut her up. 

“Don’t you have something better to waste your time with? Aren’t you supposed to be looking for a husband?” Aemond rumbles, slouched in his seat. All tension drained from him, his legs weak and wobbling from the force of his climax. He feels as if he is up in the clouds, no dragon necessary. 

Ysilla sniffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a twist. “I will marry whomever I tell my mother I have accepted. And if no one has caught my eye, we will try again next year.” 

She maneuvers him back into his breeches, and if Aemond were a lesser man, he’d whine at the loss of her smooth touch. The leather suffocates him immediately and it feels so wrong. 

“Who better to guide me in the art of pleasing my husband,” Ysilla looks deep into his eye as she speaks the title, and the Prince feels caught, “whomever that may be, than you? No mere man will ever compare to you, in this aspect.” Ysilla finishes his laces off with a bow, hands tucking behind her innocently as she sits back on her toes. 

“In any aspect.” Aemond thinks he means to snarl in a self-righteous manner, but it’s clear to his own ears what he intends. The thought of Ysilla being on her knees for another, warm and wanting and welcoming for someone that is not him, blazes him with envy.

Ysilla beams, and Aemond feels like a trout swallowing the worm- hooked, reeled, and gutted.

“I’m glad we have an agreement then.”

.

.

.

[satansamwriting]

hi! saw your post from yesterday and im fairly new to ur blog :) can i ask for headcanons for kung lao and liu kang with a gender neutral reader who gets a lot of bug bites?? like in the summer they get bit a lot and it annoys them

HC Kung Lao and Liu Kang with a gn s/o who keeps getting bug bites.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

HI! I wasn't expecting someone to ask me that quickly. I'm farely new to writing headcanons so I tried my best and I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it.

Kung Lao

This man would find your "suffering" entertaining.

Like you two would be training together and suddenly the urge to scratch your bug bites would distract you enough to stop the fight and he'd be there watching you curse summer and all the bugs on Earthrealm with a grin.

Bug doesn’t seem to bite him and it annoys you. 

Amazed by how many bug bites you get

"(Y/N), the bug charmer"

Enjoy hearing your creative swearing as you discover new bites. 

It gets to a point where you discover bites in odd places like in the palm of your hand or in between your toes. He tries his best not to laugh as you complain about them.

Eventually, Kung Lao would take pity on you, seeing how much it bothers you and would try to find ways to help. 

Kung Lao  asked around the temple for anything that could help with (y/n)'s bug problems. It took some time, even after asking Liu and Lord Raiden, before finding someone that could help. A small bottle of diluted citronella oil in hand, he thanked the monk before making his way back to (y/n). He finds them sitting on the training ground currently trying to fight off the bugs that surrounded them.  “Here, this should help.” Taking a seat next to them, he pries open the bottle and poured a small amount in the palm of his hand.  “ I think my last option is to ask Grandmaster Liang if I could live at his temple during summer. At least bugs would leave me alone.” Rubbing the oil on the several bites covering their body, Kung Lao tries to hide his grin.  “ And leave me here all alone for months?” Satisfied with his job, Kung Lao closed the bottle, pocketing it in case they would need it again. His grin never left his face as he looked at them. (Y/n) seemed to be weighing the options in their head. Signing as if they made the most difficult decision in their life (y/n) stood up and stretched.

“Oh the sacrifices I make for you.”

Kung Lao couldn’t help but laugh as he took  (y/n) extended hands.

Liu Kang

Similar to Kung Lao, this boy doesn’t get bug bites. 

Although, he is more sympathetic toward you whenever you get new bites or complain about the itch. 

Would start to worry if the bites become more apparent on your skin.

Liu Kang is curious to know why, despite the both of you being outside together, the bugs only bite you

Even though he himself doesn’t get bitten , he knows you shouldn’t scratch them. And so, he tries to keep your mind off the bites by training with you.

Secretly finds it entertaining as long as it doesn’t get worse.

Asks around the temple for any advice on how to appease your itch 

It  was a warm day at the temple. Liu Kang and (y/n) were meditating, hiding in the shade to avoid getting sunburn. The meditation was going smoothly until Liu Kang's concentration was broken by a loud smack. Opening his eyes, he turned toward (y/n), who was trying their best not to scratch the newest bite. Liu Kang could see how annoyed they were and, with a soft smile, decided to help with their discomfort.  “Wait here.” The chosen one left his partner for a short while, knowing full well that they would take this opportunity to scratch the bite. He came back soon after with a small bowl filled with cold water and a towel in hand.  “I heard cold water help ease the itching sensation.” Wetting the towel, Liu Kang gently wrapped it around the bite and watched as they smiled in relief. “ Thanks, it does help a bit.”  Too distracted now to continue their meditation Liu Kang and (y/n) spent the rest of the time enjoying the warmth of the day sitting in the shade. Whenever the itching sensation got too intense again, (y/n) would simply remove the towel and wet it again. If the water in the bowl became lukewarm, Liu Kang would stand up and change it for cold water. When other bites started to show up, Liu Kang searched for ways to repel the bugs. One of the monks, who overheard him talk about the problem to Kung Lao, offered him straws of lavender. Thanking the monk, Liu Kang left his friend to find his partner. (Y/n) was scratching at one of the bites when he arrived. The smell of lavender slowly filled the air around them.  “I told you not to scratch yourself while I'm gone.” Placing the flowers in between them, Liu Kang took hold of (y/n) hands in order to prevent them from worsening the bite.  “In my defence,you were back when I started to.” Smiling, Liu Kang kept holding their hands as the two of them continued their conversation.  Despite how annoying it was to get bug bites all summer long, (y/n) enjoyed the care Liu Kang gave them. 

[mrsaltieri-real]

Partner in Crime (Victim!Mickey Altieri X Ghostface!Reader)

Reader is AFAB

Word count: 5.3k

Warning/s: ghostface!reader, “victim!mickey” (kinda not really though), blood, gore, gruesome murder descriptions, changes to canon scream 2 (obviously), violence, language, smut, p in v, blood kink, riding, choking, slight orgasm denial, teasing, biting, reader is bat shit crazy and so is Mickey, lying, deception, partners in crime (duh), etc

God this took me a long ass time but it’s worth it because I LOVE how it came out. Took a LOT of trial and error from my part trying to capture this just right but we finally got there and I can post this. I am so so excited about this fic.

Once again thank you to the gorgeous @bisexual-horror-fan for beta reading and editing this for me and helping me with ideas to make this come out just right. Could NOT have done this without you Bex <3

On that note, LETS FUCKING GO.

“Who could be doing this?” Sidney mused quietly, elbow propped on the rustic wood of the bench she sat on, hand resting on her forehead. “I mean, how could this possibly be happening again?”

Derek sat beside her, hand rubbing small soothing circles into her back, Hallie looked at her sympathetically and Randy was gently biting at the loose skin of his thumb, eyes scanning the crowd. Mickey seemed to be in his own little world, gazing at the hubbub of cameramen and reporters bustling around the college square, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on your thigh. Your eyes were set on Sidney’s anxious face trying to resist the urge to smile at her fear, everything in her body language was communicating the tension and unease inside her.

All of this was way, way too easy. After discovering last year that the survivors of the Woodsbro massacre were attending Windsor, you’d found yourself intensely curious and decided to transfer there from your previous college. You’d easily managed to fit into their friend group within about a month of being there and eagerly put your plan in motion.

It had been easier than you’d anticipated to get most of them, especially Randy and Mickey to tell you just about everything you didn’t know, making sure to spread your questions over the course of a few weeks rather all at once. You didn’t want suspicion to arise due to overly keen and pressing curiosity, so it was just small things only being spoken about if another member of the group brought it up. So, whenever Randy brought up in a pissed off tone anything about Billy Loomis, you’d casually slide in a question, like “Why would he even do something like that?” or “How did it happen?“ and Randy would eagerly start chatting like a parrot, telling you just about everything you needed to know under the guise of your concerned friend act.

It was almost amusing how easy it all was.

“I don’t know, Sid.” Derek sighed, looking with nothing but undiluted fear at his anxious girlfriend. “But they’ll find the sick fuck.”

“Honestly, it might have nothing to do with you.” Mickey spoke up, dragging his eyes away from the bustling crowd. Sidney’s eyes flickered to Mickey and she frowned, brow creased as she questioned him.

“Two kids who attended our college got carved up by someone in a Ghostface costume and you think it doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Randy and I?”

Mickey shrugged, stopping the drumming on your thigh and leaned forward on the bench. “I don’t know, Sid. But it was opening night for a movie based on real events. Maybe someone was just playing some kind of sick joke and it just went too far?”

“Wow. You’ve had a lot of time to think about alternatives haven’t you, Mickey?” Randy spoke up, eyes narrowing at him. Your gaze moved from Sidney’s anguished face and focused on Randy’s.

“What are you implying, Randy?” You asked in a clipped tone.

“I’m not implying anything.” He muttered and you felt your nails cut into your palm as your hands clenched into tight fists.

“Calm down, Randy.” Hallie rolled her eyes at him with a scoff, “I saw Mickey in the library last night.”

Randy muttered something that sounded like, “Sure whatever”, under his breath and you had to bite the inside of your cheeks so you didn’t rip him apart right then and there.

You couldn’t begin to describe the sudden unbearable rage you felt when Randy had even hinted at Mickey being the killer. From the day you’d met him, you’d felt yourself utterly drawn to and infatuated with everything about him. There was an all too familiar darkness about him, about his aura that caused you to magnetise yourself to him, refusing to break away no matter what. Did anyone else suspect Mickey? Your eyes scanned the faces of your ‘friends’ but the conversation continued between the four of them, slowly merging into something else entirely and you felt nothing but Mickey’s anxious eyes set on your face.

“You alright, baby?” He asked, feeling his large hand covering your tightly clenched one and you quickly blinked, flashing him a small smile.

“Yeah, of course I am. Why?” You asked as innocently as you could muster, praying that you came off as genuine.

He raised his eyebrows a little and pointedly looked down at your other hand gripping the edge of the bench so hard your nails seemed almost permanently embedded in the cracked wood. You moved your hand quickly and shook it out as you sighed. “I’m fine.” You assured him, lightly pressing your palm against his stubbly cheek. “I’ve got a class in a few so I should get going.” You announced to the group and you felt all of them glance at you.

“I’ll walk you.” Mickey said, standing up from the bench and grabbing his bag and video camera.

“No, no it’s fine.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, lightly pushing him back down onto the bench as you were shaking your head. “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. Besides, I’m sure the big bad monster isn’t going to attack me while I walk to class in the middle of the day.”

You lightly pecked him on the lips before turning on your heel and walking to class, feeling suspicious brown eyes watching you all the while.

—————————-————————-————

“So, you gonna tell me what the hell has been going on with you?”

You gasped, jumping as your hand clutched your chest and you glared up at Mickey, who was leaning against the wall outside your lecture hall. “Have you been waiting out here the whole time I was in there?” You asked with a frown.

“No,” Mickey lied and swiftly took your books out of your hands before you could stop him as he began to walk, begrudgingly you begin following after him. “So, are you?”

“Nothing is going on with me.” You insisted, rolling your eyes. “Why would you assume there is?”

“You’re not anywhere near as mysterious as you think, babe.” A smile toyed on his lips as you both walked down the hall, his free hand lightly resting on your hip.

“And you’re not nearly as intuitive as you think you are.” You muttered under your breath. He let out a frustrated groan before tugging you by the loop of your jeans into an empty classroom.

“Seriously, what is with you lately? You seem…” Mickey hesitated a little, teeth sinking into his bottom lip before he spoke again “…Different. You keep brushing me off whenever I ask to hang out and you always seem like you're kind of somewhere else. I’m worried about you.”

“Mick, I’m just really busy.” You sighed, lightly removing his hands from your body. I’ve got a dissertation due in a few days, and-“ you cut yourself off for a second, realisation hitting.

You knew Mickey far too well. As laid back as he was, you knew deep down he worried about you far too much. His analytical and downright clingy behaviour must’ve been down to one thing and one thing only. The murders he had no idea you were committing. You let out some air from your mouth and looked up at him with a sudden fondness.

“Is this because of what happened to those two kids?” You asked, tilting your head at him.

“You’re distracted.” He said simply, shrugging a little. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the soft smile that lit up your face as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up on your toes to affectionately kiss him. You felt him relax a little, relief evident in the way he kissed you back, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your skin from over your shirt.

“Nothing is going to happen to me.” You assured, your voice absolutely certain as you pulled back to look him in the eye. “I promise. And nothings going to happen to you either.”

“I’m not worried about me.” He mumbled insistently pressing his forehead to yours.

You sighed a little, moving your hand down to his and intertwining your fingers together. “I mean it, Mick. You have nothing to worry about. I can practically guarantee it.”

Mickey looked you up and down, confusion evident on his face at the way you’d spoken and you quickly changed the subject. “Are you going to the Delta Lambda party tonight?”

“Of course, why? Are you not?”

“No, no I’ll be there. I’m just making sure you’ll be. I might be a little late though I have some more work to do on my dissertation and call my dad. He’s worried given everything going on, you know?” You internally sighed. Now you’d actually have to fucking call him to stay true to your alibi. Great.

“I can wait with you and we can go together.”

You felt your teeth grind together and you wracked your brain for some kind of excuse.

“Mickey.” You said gently, looking at him sympathetically. “Randy’s suspecting you...” -another situation you’ll no doubt have to deal with sooner rather than later. “- so I think you need to stay within his sights for a while. You know how he gets. No doubt he’ll start stalking you so it’s probably best just to stay on top of that.”

Mickey looked unconvinced by your reasoning and something odd crossed his features but disappeared just as quickly as it came. “Alright, babe. I’ll be there the whole time.”

Mickey’s eyes flickered out toward the sound of a laugh and he rolled his eyes, making you turn to see what he was looking at.

“Why are you looking at Cici Cooper like that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just something she said in my film class.” Mickey said dismissively but you pressed, frowning.

“What did she say?“

“In a nutshell? My ideas on film and cinema are stupid. Apparently I’m biased because I believe there are a lot of sequels that are better than their original.” Mickey shrugged a little.

Your frown deepened.

Mickey had always been heavily passionate about films and extremely defensive about the films he loved. It may have been a tiny insult to any other person but anybody talking about Mickey in a way that was even somewhat negative? With the bloodlust you felt right now?

Well, it’s just a fucking recipe for disaster.

————���————-————————-————

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Randy slurred a little as he spoke to Mickey, flopping down beside him with a loud huff. Mickey recoiled slightly at the uncomfortable closeness.

“When I left her dorm she was talking to her dad. He seemed really worried so she might take a while getting here.”

“Hm.” Randy hummed, unamused and unconvinced before taking another sip of his drink.

“What, Randy.” Mickey sighed. “Got any more theories? Think she’s the killer now?”

Randy laughed too loudly and shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand that wasn’t holding his drink. “Her? The killer? Please.” Randy leaned back. “No way she could’ve taken down a guy as big as Phil Stevens.”

Mickey nodded slightly, completely dissociating after Randy confirmed he didn’t suspect her.

But did Mickey?

He thought for a second about your behaviour leading up to the deaths of those two students. You were erratic, excited and ridiculously horny. Your sex drive had been so high for a week prior that even he was beginning to struggle to keep up. It had been kinkier than ever, and you were oddly dominating in a way Mickey wasn’t at all used to. He was used to being the one in control but recently, it was like you were a completely different person. It would be messy and rough. You’d bite him, scratch him and leave marks all over him just as he enjoyed doing to you. The give and take was a lot more fun than he would’ve anticipated. It never crossed his mind that someone as sweet as you could have this much of a sexually repressed edge.

Of course, he didn’t complain. He liked that you were comfortable enough with him to bring it out. This side to you was just as exciting as it was endearing to him. But then after the murders, it didn’t change. It built up more and more. You’d come back to his dorm after “studying”, eyes bright and almost menacing and practically pounced on him. In all honesty, it was probably the best sex the two of you had ever had.

But after that night, it changed drastically in a very different way. You’d stopped touching him, started avoiding him. You became more on edge and agitated yet ten times more focused.

He would never tell anyone about these changes he’d witnessed in you, but he was pretty sure he was the only one who noticed. He paid so much attention to you day to day that even the slightest change couldn’t go past him. And now? What the fuck were you really doing?

Randy was distracted, leaning over the arm of the couch and chatting to some girl. Mickey almost laughed at his lack of game before standing up, deciding to go and check on you. Something didn’t quite add up in his mind and he was going to find out what it was even if it killed him.

——————-————————-—————————

The undiluted pleasure spreading through you spurred you on as you stabbed Cici in the torso, her feeble attempts to fight you off fading every time the blade in your hand came down and plunged the cold steel deep into her.

Tormenting her via the phone call was fun, but this was ten times better. Perhaps she didn’t deserve this, she was only messing around with Mickey in class. It was a debate about films after all. But that didn’t matter to you. The fact she’d insulted someone that was yours made killing this sweet girl all the more fulfilling. Besides, you needed to kill someone whilst Mickey had an ironclad alibi. You didn’t need him on anyone's suspect list.

You watched in glee as the light in her eyes turned into a blank, glossy stare and brought the knife down once more, directly into her throat. She let out a muffled gargle and her mouth went slack. Cici’s fingers and legs twitched a couple of more times before you heard the release of air burst through her lips and just like that, she was dead. You moved from straddling her to stand over her as you wiped the blood off of the blade with your gloved hand.

“Stupid bitch.” You muttered, eyes quickly scanning your surroundings before removing the mask, sighing and cracking your neck.

You’d caught your first two victims, Phil and Maureen completely off guard, so although it had been fun to kill them, they were almost too easy to overpower and that took away from it a little. It made it almost boring in comparison to this. Cici on the other hand? The slight blonde girl had put up quite the fight. She’d kicked and scratched, she’d screamed and tried her best to fight you off of her to no avail. Your bloodlust made her absolutely no match for you.

You finally understood why Billy Loomis and Stu Macher had called their victims to taunt them first. The taste of satisfaction on your tongue was almost overwhelming, the sight of her crying, begging for you to spare her made you feel a way you’d never felt before.

Whilst you were revelling in your victory you heard the snap of a twig and your head snapped in the direction, the Ghostface mask gripped tight between your fingers.

“Mickey?” You gasped his name as he walked toward you, eyes huge and mouth open while he looked from Cici’s badly mutilated corpse and to your shocked face.

“It’s you? You’re the killer?”

To your surprise, he didn’t sound angry, or surprised. He didn’t look disgusted or even the slightest bit afraid. He looked… Almost curious. His intrigued brown eyes finally focused on your face after they dragged up from the girl lying dead on the ground.

“I..” you couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought as you stuttered. The last thing you wanted was to kill him, not Mickey. Not your Mickey. As he stepped closer, your hands instinctively lifted the knife and pointed it at him defensively and his hands rose, palms up. “You’re not going to fucking tell anyone.”

Mickey’s expression turned from intrigued to almost offended. “You think I would?”

You gave him a doubtful look but didn’t drop your guard, eyes monitoring his every move as he asked, “Baby, why?”

You frowned at him, tilting your head. “Why Cici or why am I doing this?” You felt frustrated, a raise of your hands and a shake of your head as you said, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. Why the fuck did you leave the party, Mickey? I told you to stay there. That was your goddamn alibi so no one would suspect you.”

“I…I came to look for you,” His finger pointed in the direction of your building that was about a five minute walk from the sorority. “-and I heard screams and I was curious. So I walked up here and saw you stabbing the fuck outta Cici.” His shoulders turned up in a slight shrug.

“How the fuck are you acting so normal?” You hissed at him. It was hard not to be suspicious. Mickey was acting as though he caught you cheating on a damn test. This wasn’t normal behaviour for someone who’d just watched his girlfriend brutally gut somebody right in front of him.

He ignored you, asking once again, “Why?”

You sighed, briefly glancing around at your surroundings before your gaze focused back on your intrigued boyfriend. You hesitated a little, unsure what to do with the knife still pointed at him. It felt wrong pointing a weapon at Mickey. You loved him, but how could you let him live now? He was a witness, a loose end, and there’s nothing you hated more than loose ends.

Mickey watched as your face changed into a look of frustration and he lowered his hands, glancing down at the knife before hesitantly taking another step toward you. You didn’t stop him, suddenly needing to feel him closer. When you felt stress like this, you always needed him around. He made you feel better, normal somehow. Well, as normal as you could feel given who you were.

But can you trust him? The small voice in the back of your head muttered to you and you sighed, the agitated desperation evident on your face.

“Does it matter?“ you asked between gritted teeth.

“Baby, I swear I’m not going to tell anyone.” Mickey spoke gently, as though you were a wild animal he was trying to tame.

“How do I know that?” You snapped, glaring up at him.

“Because I wouldn’t do that.” Mickey looked offended at your comment, a small frown taking over his features. “I love you, and I’d never do anything that would put you at risk. Come on baby, you know that!”

“You promise?” You asked cautiously. One thing about Mickey is that he never lied to you. You always knew he had somewhat of an edge due to the movies he watched to his depraved sense of humour. Maybe that’s why you felt so bonded to him. Maybe that’s why you trusted him so entirely with even the darkest parts of yourself you’d never allow anyone else to see. As you felt his hand gently wrap around the knife in yours, you visibly relaxed as he gently pushed your hand down along with the blade, eyes filled with nothing short of admiration as he whispered, “On my life.”

“Okay.” You breathed as you nodded, sweaty hair falling into your eyes. You believed him, but still felt a little tense. Looking at him now, you knew he wouldn’t betray you, he loved you far too much. “I trust you. But Mickey, please go back to the party. I need to make sure you’re not a suspect and it won’t be long before someone stumbles across this.” You gestured down toward the mutilated body about a foot away from the two of you and he nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ll go back. But what do I tell them if they ask where you are?” Mickey frowned again, not liking the thought of them suspecting you. What would he do if you got caught? He’d always needed you but now? He needed you more than ever. He wanted you to tell him everything, how it felt to kill, how you felt when you did it and more importantly why. He’d always had a dark curious side and knowing the woman he loved not only had that too but actively pursued that darkness? No way he could let anything happen to you now. No way you could leave him.

“Try and go back in there without anyone noticing. Call the phone in my dorm and I’ll answer and tell you I fell asleep. That’s the best we can do now if I do become a suspect and they trace my calls.”

Mickey nodded, hands moving to touch the back of your neck with his rough fingers and the other on the small of your back as he pulled you close to him, lips enveloping yours. It was tender and nearly desperate, making you feel weak as he pulled away, a smile on his face as he began hastily walking back in the direction he came.

You watched after him for a few seconds as he slowly disappeared into the black night before pulling off the Ghostface costume, rolling up the mask and knife inside of it, taking one last look at Cici Coopers mangled corpse, smiling in admiration at your work before turning and walking back to your dorm, thinking of all the possibilities that await you now you didn’t have to hide such an enormous part of yourself from the one person you’d never hurt.

—————-————————-—————————

It had been two days since Mickey caught you murdering Cici Cooper, donning the Ghostface costume. Within those two days, he’d been nothing short of bombarding you with questions with the most intense curiosity you’d ever seen. His questions were all about your motive and you told him without hesitation.

“I want to finish what Billy and Stu started-” you’d told him with a small shrug, sitting perched on your countertop as he cleaned the bloody knife you’d used to murder Cici. Watching him do this helps you, he offers to do it for you without prompting and it makes you feel warm, assured in what he said, what he promised, that he wouldn’t tell on you. He is an accomplice now, cleaning your murder weapon, there is a particular domesticity to it that you could really get used to.

“-but I didn’t want to go straight for Sidney and Randy. I knew I needed practice, and how better than to fucking terrify her than to kill people with names of the original victims first and work my way up to them?”

He’d listened intently, utterly fascinated by you and you had to admit, it felt good to be worshipped by someone. Especially Mickey who had zero judgement in him and if anything, desperately wanted to learn more.

You were no longer even slightly uneasy with answering his questions as you’d initially been, willingly responding to each query with heavy detail which he seemed to thrive off, eyes bright and expression keen.

According to Mickey, after he had gone back to the party, it had taken a matter of ten minutes before someone had seen Cici’s dead body and the police had been called. Luckily, nobody had noticed Mickey’s absence, but your small friend group had noticed you were nowhere to be seen. He’d lied smoothly after calling you and quoting what you’d previously told him to say.

The best part of being a woman? Especially one who looked as sweet and innocent as you did? Nobody thought twice about it.

Your original plan to attack Derek and bombard Sidney with hesitation and doubt about her own boyfriend would have to wait for a later date. Mickey’s little discovery had somewhat put a wrench in the works but much to your own surprise, it didn’t bother you. It felt incredible to have someone you could share the darkest parts of yourself with without an ounce of judgement.

And the sex? It had been non-stop since the moment Mickey had walked into your dorm room after he’d been interrogated. It had been intense in ways you’d never imagined. With him knowing everything, you didn’t have to hold back anymore and neither did he. He wanted to fuck you whilst you still had Cici’s blood on your hands and arms, something that did not only catch you by surprise, but instantly turned you on. How could you say no to that? The image of him, smudges of tacky and quickly oxidising scarlet painting his torso, along with hickey’s you left on his neck, shoulders and collarbone, hair a wreck post sex was burned into your brain.

You were straddling Mickey now, both of you stripped completely bare as you had been from the night he found out you were Ghostface, fingers woven through his dark hair as you angled and ground your hips down against him, small sighs falling from your lips as you felt him gliding in and out of your drenched pussy. His head was resting back against the headboard, dark lustful eyes watching your face as you leaned forward and moved your lips against his, his fingers gripping the soft flesh of your hips so hard they were bound to bruise.

“What’s it like?” He asks it softly and you pull back looking down at him, the smile spreads on your face and you ask, “What’s what like?”

Another fall of your hips, enveloping him totally once again, the roll of your body and the rhythm serving you both well, he asks, “What’s, ugh, what’s killing like?”

The laugh breaks out as you slow your pace, “That is what you are thinking about right now?”

You slam yourself down harder and he gasps out, “Yes,” The look in his eyes is practically pleading, “Please, tell me?”

Well how could you deny him?

“You want me to tell you what it feels like to slide cold steel into a warm body?” you whispered to him, one hand sliding from his hair to his throat, finger pressing gently against his racing pulse. “How it feels to see the terror on their face when they realise they’re going to die? Watch the life drain from their eyes?” A small whining sound escaped Mickey’s lips as you moved again, trying to fight the urge to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress as you spoke.

“Yes.” He murmured desperately.

“It’s like sex,” you said gently with another roll of your hips making him groan again as he felt your clit rub against him and your pussy clench around him. The slow, teasing pace you were giving him was driving him crazy, he needed either you to ride him with wreckless abandon, or be able to fuck up into you so hard you’d struggle to take it.

“-there’s something intimate about it. Nothing can compare to the feeling of having someone’s life in your hands and being the one with the power to take it away.” Your hands moved to his throat as you spoke, applying enough pressure so it wouldn’t really hurt him but it would definitely have an impact. He let out nothing short of a growl as you did, fucking up into you even harder.

His rough hands moved from your hips to your ass, kneading the soft flesh and his breath hitched as you began to move faster, eyes watching as your tits bounced in front of his face, thrusting his hips upward to match your pace. He moved one of his hands to slide down your torso, finding your swollen clit and began to move his fingers in small, deliberate circles around your swollen bud, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that he knew teased you in just the right way. You let out a small groan as he did, feeling the pressure begin to build in your stomach for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two days.

“Not yet.” He grunted, fingers slowing to an agonising pace. Even with you straddling him with your hand wrapped around his throat you listened, letting out a small gasp as he gripped your waist, flipping you over so you were on your back with him hoisting your legs around his waist as he started to thrust into you, eyes dark and almost menacing. He liked to be in control and although he knew your secret, it didn’t mean that was going to change.

“I want- fuck- I want to be there next time.” His tone was uneven as he fucked you, pinning your hands above your head with one hand, you groaned into your arm, relishing in the feeling of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you and the slight stubble of his trimmed pubes grinding against your clit. The pressure was almost unbearable as you tried to fight the instinct to let the pleasure completely envelop you. “And I want to help you.”

This made you snap back into reality for a moment and you leaned your head back, looking at him in shock. “You- you what?”

He didn’t stop but slowed down, releasing your hands and cupping your cheek. “I want to help you,” he repeated, a smile on his beautiful face. “I don’t want you to do this alone. Besides, Billy and Stu did it together. Why don’t we?”

You couldn’t help but let an almost sadistic grin take over your face. Maybe that could work? It would surely help you, and he was right. Billy and Stu worked together and Mickey was definitely twisted enough to be able to pull this off with you. You’d already killed three people solo and just imagining Mickey being there and helping you…

“I need to injure Derek and kill Randy next.” You breathed, smirking a little as you looked up at your boyfriend, legs still wrapped around his waist. You felt him twitch inside of you, anticipation evident on his face as he moved his hand down between the two of you. “I’ll start you off easy with Derek,” you said, voice cracking a little as you began to circle your clit once again. “Don’t kill him, but make it fucking hurt.”

You could hear the smile in Mickey’s voice as he began to roll his hips again, fingers moving expertly across your clit, a small moan falling from between his lips as he felt your teeth sink into the skin of his shoulder hard enough for you to taste his blood.

“I will, but I want to help you kill Meeks too, I wanna see him gutted.”

God, you loved him.

[gloomweed]

Freak Accident

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: None! Just pure fluff.

Summary: After the reader trips and hurts their ankle, Eddie offers to drive them home and ends up taking care of them.

Word Count: 3.4k

Autumn leaves crunch underfoot as you make your way through the woods behind Hawkins High School. You were tired of waiting for your ride to show up, and with the sky only getting darker, you decided it was best to just bite the bullet and start walking home. It wasn’t a long walk to your house, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable having to trek through the wilderness in the dark. With no other options, this was where you found yourself. You held your arms around yourself tightly as a cold breeze swept around you. The knitted sweater you wore did little to protect you against the dropping temperatures. You pulled the sleeves to cover your hands as you walked. The full moon hung in the sky above you and you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful you weren’t walking in total darkness.

As you continued your journey, you could hear distant leaf crunching and felt like there was someone following you. Turning back, you squint into the low light to try and spot anything, but seeing nothing, you shrug and continue on your way. Once you hear a twig snap somewhere closer, you don’t bother looking back and just decide to run for it. Your lungs burn as you run, your legs feeling shaky. You spare a look over your shoulder only to trip on a tree root and fall to the ground. Wincing at the pain in your twisted ankle, you bring your knee to your chest to try and get a better look at the injury. The crunching returns and you whip your head up at the source of the sound.

“Whoa! Are you okay?” Eddie approaches you with his hands up, ready to jump in and help you. The many rings on his hands caught your eye as they glistened in the moonlight.

You sigh in relief. “Oh, it’s you.” Annoyance quickly replaced your relief. “And no, I’m not okay. I twisted my ankle, thanks to you. Why were you following me?”

He makes a sympathetic face, “Sorry about that.” He holds his hand out for you to take and helps you stand up. You lean against a nearby tree for support as he explains himself. He hucks a thumb over his shoulder towards the school. “I came out here to smoke when I saw you walking into the woods by yourself.” The edge of his lips twitch upward. “Thought you were possessed or cursed or something.” When you don’t laugh, he puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket with an innocent shrug. “Just curious why you were out here shivering in the dark.” You and Eddie weren’t exactly friends, but you were more than strangers. You’ve talked in passing a couple times and even did a social studies project together once when you were the last two students without partners. Everyone called him a freak, but you didn’t really see him like that. Really, he was just an outcast, like you. 

You sigh. “My ride never showed up, so I was walking home.” You test your ankle by trying to put your weight on it, only to jump back with a pained wince. "Looks like it’s going to be a longer walk than I thought,” you think, dryly.

Eddie nods in understanding before looking you up and down with a frown. “I mean, if you want, I can drive you home since, you know, walking doesn’t seem like much of an option for you now.” When you don’t respond he rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin. “Come on, let me make it up to you for accidentally freaking you out and making you twist your ankle in the first place.”

You bite your lip as you weigh your options. Ultimately you decide that your house is too far for you to continue walking like this, and you don't want to injure yourself further by continuing to walk on it. You nod a few times reluctantly. “Alright.”

Eddie approaches you with a scoff. “Jeez, don’t sound too excited.”

He reaches towards you, but you lean away from him suspiciously. “What are you doing?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “You can’t seriously expect me to let you hobble all the way to the parking lot, do you? Now, come on. Give me your bag.” He doesn’t wait for a response and instead puts his hands on your shoulders and gently turns you around, making you shrug off your bookbag. He puts your bag on his back, fiddling with the straps until it lays secure against him. Eddie groans and squats a few times trying to get used to the weight. “Christ! What do you keep in here? Bricks?” The sight makes you roll your eyes with a smile. “I guess this is what a smart kid’s backpack feels like. I should count myself lucky that I’m an idiot.”

You’re about to contradict him when he takes your arm and slings it over his shoulders. His other hand rests on your waist to support you and you feel a warmth spread across your face from his closeness. You can’t help but breathe in his scent of cologne and cigarettes and even a hint of his shampoo. Instinctually, you attempt to keep some distance between you two as a way of trying to be polite. Eddie can feel you pull away from him. “Uh, the point of this is to lean on me so you’re off your ankle.” He pulls you a little closer as he says this and it makes your heart rate jump. You lean on him like he says, your side fully pressed against his, and suddenly it’s not as cold as it was moments ago.

The way his fingers splay against your side is all you can think about as you make your way towards the school parking lot together. Eddie attempts to fill the awkwards silence between you. “So what brings you to Hawkins High this late?”

“I was tutoring someone after school to make a little extra cash.” You look up at him next to you. “What about you?” Your eyes squint as you try to remember what he told you in passing. “Is it that ‘D and D’ club?”

The way you pronounced it makes him smile. The fact that you cared to remember his club at all brings a warm feeling to his chest. “It’s ‘DnD’, and yes. We call it Hellfire, actually.”

You nod as you remember the posters you’ve seen in the hallways. “That’s right. Hellfire. What is it exactly? Some kind of board game?”

Eddie looks down at you. “More like a role-playing game. It’s all fantasy and imagination.”

“Well, if it’s all imagination, how do you win?”

Seeing you’re actually interested in the game, his heart soars with excitement. Not wanting to scare you away, he remained nonchalant with a shrug. “It’s complicated. There are different campaigns with different stories and different objectives. A lot of times it’s just killing the baddest guy to bring freedom to the land.” He speaks the last part in a deep theatrical narration.

You smile as you think about it. “Huh. Sounds kinda cool.” 

Eddie wishes he could do some kind of victory dance in celebration of keeping you interested in DnD. Instead, he looks down at you and smirks. “Well, hey. If you’re into it, I can bring you to a meeting sometime and show you the ropes. You can make a character and join our campaign.” When you don’t answer immediately he playfully bumps your side with his hip and adds on, “No pressure, though.”

You look up at him with a grin. “No, that sounds nice. I think I’ll take you up on that offer sometime.”

He grins wider at that. “Sweet.” His demeanor changes suddenly as he looks at you more seriously. “I have to warn you though, there are a lot of freshmen in that club that struggle with their personal hygiene.” Eddie smirks when a laugh bubbles out of you. “Seriously,” he laughs, “It’s not great. We got to keep the windows open just so we all don’t suffocate from the stink.” You laugh again, and Eddie can’t help but feel pride in being the one responsible for it. When you finally make it to the parking lot, he jerks his head in the direction of his van. “Our chariot awaits.”

You give a low whistle at the sight of the old, beaten up van. “She is a beaut’.”

Eddie sighs longingly. “She sure is.” 

While still holding you at his side, he opens the passenger door for you. He offers you his hand as you tentatively climb into the seat. You take it with a polite smile that he easily returns. The warmth that was once at your side is gone now and you can’t help but miss it already. “Thanks,” you speak softly.

His dark eyes flick to you intently. “Don’t mention it,” he says just as softly. 

Once he’s sure you’re securely in the van, he walks around to the driver’s side. From the rearview mirror, you notice him stop half way and put both of his hands on his lower back and arch it forwards with a pained expression on his face. You realize that with your difference in height, he was stooping pretty much the whole time, not to mention carrying your bookbag, so no doubt there was some pain in his back. When Eddie gets into the driver’s seat, he puts your bag behind your seat. It’s only when he turns back does he notice your frown. “What’s the matter?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Well, I saw you stretching and I just feel bad you were hurting your back to help me.”

There was disappointment in his tone. “Oh. You saw that, huh?” He turns around to look out the van’s back windows as he speaks under his breath. “I really thought you wouldn’t be able to see me from there.” The thought that he attempted to hide his stretching from you so you wouldn’t feel bad brings a flutter to your chest. He turns back with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Look, you don’t have to worry about me, alright? I’m doing this because I want to, not because I have to.”

 Staring into his eyes, you can see his sincerity. You reluctantly nod. “Alright. Thanks, Eddie.” In your head, you were already trying to figure out a way to pay him back for this.

“Like I said,'' he turns the keys in the ignition and gives you a wink that brings a heat to your face. “Don’t mention it.” Eddie puts the vehicle in reverse and begins to back out. He isn’t even out of the parking spot yet when he suddenly hits the brakes as he realizes he doesn’t know where he’s going. “Wait, where do you live?”

Eddie parks the van in the empty driveway of your house. “My parents aren’t home. They both work late,” you explained.

He wipes his hands on his thighs with a sigh of relief. “Oh good. I was worried I was gonna have to scold them for not picking you up from school.”

His sarcasm makes you blush with embarrassment. “Oh right. I guess that would have been obvious, huh?”

“Relax. I’m kidding. I am seriously relieved though. Most parents find all this,” he gestures to himself vaguely, “alarming. I mean, I’m not exactly a ‘good influence’.”

The way his eyes dim as he speaks about himself makes you want to pull him into a hug. Instead, you shrug. “I think a person willing to drive someone they barely know home after they twisted their ankle is pretty good to me.”

He gives a dismissive shrug. “Sure, but I also was the one to make you fall in the first place.”

“Yeah, but that was an accident, and you were willing to make it right. I think that’s pretty noble of you.”

Your reassuring smile makes his insides twist in a good way and a heat rise to his cheeks. The moment is quiet as he isn’t sure how to respond. His voice is soft and he shrugs with a smile. “Yeah maybe.” With the van being off, the cold had slowly started to seep in as you two were talking. It finally got to a point that Eddie saw you give a little shake and wrap your arms around yourself. He reaches behind your seat and grabs your bag as he speaks. “Let’s just get you inside before we freeze to death.” You move to get out, a hand already on the door handle, when Eddie stops you with frantic hand motions. “Wait, wait, wait!”

You retract your hand like the handle was on fire. “What?!” you ask, worried you almost ruined something.

He shook his head with a lopsided grin like it was obvious and you were being the silly one. “Let me get the door for you,” he explained calmly as he hopped out of the van and rushed to the other side to open the door. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Eddie opened the door with a dramatic bow. “M’lady.” He holds his hand out for you to take. When you giggle and take his hand, he looks up at you with a grin.

“Are you always this weird?” you ask through a chuckle.

He nods emphatically. “Oh, definitely.”

Eddie helps you get out of the van without putting weight on your twisted ankle and once again you are pressed to his side. He notices that you don’t hesitate to lean into him this time, making him smile to himself. As he helps you through your house, you lead with the directions. “My room is down this way,” you point down the hall. As he moves to twist the doorknob, you thank your lucky stars that you made an effort to clean up your room this morning. You can’t imagine the embarrassment you would feel if a cute boy were to see your dirty laundry scattered around the floor of your bedroom. 

After he helps lower you onto your bed, he shrugs off your backpack and puts it next to your desk. He slumps into the chair there and lets out a sigh of exhaustion while you begin to slip off your shoes. His eyes flit about the room as he casually takes in all your personal touches. The pretty color of your walls, the little pen holder on your desk that’s shaped like a dog, the box of cassettes on your nightstand, the scented candles sitting on your dresser. Everything about it was soft and inviting. “Sweet digs you got here.”

You aren’t really sure if he’s being sarcastic or not. “Thanks?”

The way you tilt your head as you speak has Eddie smiling. “For real. I like it. Very… you.” He notices the way you hiss in pain while you remove your shoes. “What do you do for a twisted ankle anyway?”

The question takes you off guard. You try to think back to what they taught you about handling injuries in your ninth grade health class. “Oh, uh… I guess I would wrap it up with a bandage, elevate it with some pillows, maybe put some ice on it for the swelling…”

As you speak, Eddie leaves the room without a word. For a moment, you pessimistically think he’s gone home and just didn’t bother to say goodbye, but then you hear him rustling through the hall closet. He returns a minute later with supplies filling his arms and tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on balancing it all. Pillows from the couch, bandages from the closet, and a bag of frozen mixed vegetables are haphazardly spilled from his arms onto the foot of your bed.

Eddie claps his hands together, looking excited to get to work. “Alright. Let’s do this.” He kneels on the floor in front of you and holds out a hand expectantly. “Hand me the bandages will you, nurse?” He puts on a deeper voice trying to sound like a doctor.

The whole scene is enough to make you laugh. You play along as you hand him the bandages. “Here you are, doctor.”

“Thank you, nurse.” He looks up at you with a lopsided grin before unraveling the bandage. With a gentle hand on the heel of your foot, he begins wrapping your ankle. All you can do is watch as his slow and delicate movements weave the bandage over and under your injury. Eddie is silent as he does this, clearly wanting to do it right. Once again his tongue begins to peek out of his mouth as he goes on. You bite your lip trying to stifle a laugh at the cute display of his intense concentration. Eventually, he finishes the wrapping by securely tucking the end of the bandage behind itself at the top of your ankle. Still kneeling on the floor he looks up at you. “How’s that? Is it too tight? Too loose?”

You shake your head with a smile. “No, it’s perfect. Thank you.” You test your ankle by pointing your toe like a ballerina. It felt much better than it did, although still a little sore.

Eddie stands from the floor and begins reaching for the other things on your bed. “I got you some pillows like you said to keep your ankle up.” He holds up the bag of frozen vegetables. “And you didn't have any ice and I didn't feel like cracking ice trays, so I just grabbed this from the freezer instead.” He goes quiet and stares at it in his hands and begins to feel like maybe it's not good enough until you laugh.

“That'll work great. I was gonna do the same thing actually.”

He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. “Oh good. Well, here.” After stacking the pillows, he gently moves your ankle to rest on top of it and places the bag on your ankle. The vegetables fall on either side of your ankle within the bag, making for a good ice pack. Eddie holds his hands up as he steps away, as if the whole thing would collapse. When it's clear that won't happen, he puts his hands in his pockets. 

It's clear that things are beginning to wrap up, his job done. With no more reason to be here, he guesses that you probably want him to leave soon. Eddie doesn't want this to be the last time you hang out together. Actually, he hopes you will have the chance to hang out when your ankle is not sprained. The awkward silence that lingers has Eddie inching towards the door, not wanting to ruin the vibe by watching you from the corner all night. He points over his shoulder, smiling politely. “I guess, if you don't need anything else, I should get out of your hair.” 

You surprise him by standing from your bed. “Wait, before you go.” He waits as you take a few unsteady steps to your desk and begin to scribble something on a scrap of paper.

As you walk towards him, you stumble, but Eddie reaches out and catches you before you fall. “Whoa! Easy there!” 

You look up at him, flushed both from embarrassment and how close he is to you. “S-sorry. I just…” you take a step back, trying to give him his personal space back. You hand him the slip of paper. “ I wanted to give you my number.” The way you look up at him through your lashes shyly has him blushing as he takes the paper from you. “You know, so you can call me when you do your next Hellfire meeting.”

He can’t stop himself from grinning. “Right. I’ll call you.”

His grin is infectious and has you smiling just as wide. “I look forward to it.” Eddie turns to leave, but you call his name. “Oh, and Eddie?” As he turns back to face you again, you gently cup his face and kiss his cheek. His big brown eyes are wide as he stares at you surprised, his face bright red. “Thanks for everything.” You speak softly and genuinely.

Eddie feels like his heart is racing a mile a minute. He’s so surprised and flustered, he isn’t sure what to say back. “Hey, no problem. Anytime. I’ll- I’ll see you l-later.” As he leaves, he stares at the slip of paper with your digits on it, a big goofy grin on his face. His cheek still burns from the feeling of your soft lips and can’t help but touch the spot with his hand as he savors the feeling. He is definitely going to call you tomorrow.

[xthescarletbitch]

Hello, hello! I'm here to ask a very important question:

What do you think Aloy would be like as a romantic partner? As a wife? My personal headcanons are that she'd be:

-super caring and kind

-would be genuinely curious about your interests and would love talking with you about any and everything

-shes pretty blunt and sarcastic but I feel like it'd be pretty endearing. Like she'd sass anyone who was giving you trouble or just being a nuisance to general

-compassionate and sympathetic. Would definitely hold you and listen intently if you had a bad day

That's all I got so far (I'm still gonna write that college au fic, so this was a great writing exercise, lol).

that is a very important question… one i’ve been thinking a lot about, actually. i love what you put, and i am in agreement! i’ll also be looking forward to that au. i need more aloy fics. 👀

here are just a few that i’ve thought up while playing. i hope you enjoy! 🥰

✦ aloy loves to give gifts: she knows it isn’t easy for you to sit idly by while she’s out there saving the world, so she wants you to know that you’re not out of her mind completely. she’ll stumble upon something beautiful enough that reminds her so much of you, to the point where she has to grab it and tuck it away to bring it to you later. occasionally, it’ll be an old-world item that she thinks you’ll get a kick out of. i also do not think she’s opposed to just gifting you old-world jewellery like an old-world custom. whatever it is, she finds joy in the smile that comes across your face each time she returns to you with her arms full (the joy also applies when she’s empty-handed, of course… you just missed her).

✦ aloy loves to plan dates: now, this was an idea i had after securing poseidon, but i think she would love to take you out on dates after she’s ensured the location was safe first. the date may be anything from watching the stars on a secluded mountaintop (around base, for example) to a romantic walk through a settlement to the spectacular light show in las vegas—it doesn’t matter. she just wants to be close to you and enjoy that quality time with you before she has to continue on her journey. since she sees so much more than you, i feel that her ability to plan dates is top-tier. she knows all the best sights (and how to secure them if needed).

✦ aloy is big on physical affection: poor baby is always out there risking her life for the world and craves the feeling of her love embracing her. whenever she is finally around you, she never wants to let go or be let go. she makes sure to plan her time around the many hours of cuddling she’ll need before returning to the wilds. it’s a time of catching up on all the physical affection she’s missed while she’s been gone that she knows you’ve been craving, too. she also loves to give and receive as many kisses as possible while there. the others may joke around, acting disgusted, but she doesn’t care. she’s earned it.

✦ aloy loves to give and receive praise: you’re absolutely the first person she’d call on the focus once she accomplishes something. she does it to keep you in the loop and to hear just how excited and happy you are for her. the way you praise her makes her feel so warm and loved. sure, appreciation from others is nice, but it’s so different coming from you. it feels so much more meaningful than you could ever imagine. something as simple as a “i knew you could do it” motivates her to keep going. it’s not an easy journey she’s on and your support is everything. on the other hand, she’ll also dish out the praise right back. if you’ve made moves at the base that has furthered progress, aloy will be so happy for you and ensure that you know just how proud she is of you. while it is a team effort, she is just highly supportive of you and all that you do!

✦ aloy would be protective over you: you’ve fared pretty well in the wilds and have proven that you can defend yourself, but aloy would prefer that you stay safely at the base. she knows that the west is a whole new world with even tougher machines and would sleep much better on her travels knowing that you were somewhere secure (like the base). she also likes knowing she can “go home” to you whenever she wants. sometimes, she’ll walk or ride the extra mile just to be with you for the night. she’s also protective in the sense that if anybody messes with you, she will say something. this is where i’d agree with your sass because those hands are absolutely going on her hips as she handles the situation for you. that’s not to say that she thinks you can’t handle yourself, but nobody messes with her love. even if it’s somebody else close to her, like erend or varl, she’s taking your side 100%. after the conversation, she’ll pull you close and kiss your forehead to ensure you’re okay before continuing with other matters.

✦ aloy would call you every night: this girl cannot fall asleep without talking to you. if there are times when she can’t get back to the base and has to shelter elsewhere, she has to call you to make sure you and everything else is okay. not only that, but it’s an excuse to hear your voice again. it brings her a lot of comfort to get even a little interaction with you. it would become a sort of ritual where you both would talk every night before sleep, telling each other about your day until you fall asleep (still on the call). it makes her feel closer to you, even miles away. it also makes the whole distance thing feel more manageable to deal with. there are nights where you just stay up talking to each other about random things and pretending you are right there next to each other, but you both know you’ll see each other in person again soon… it just can’t come fast enough.

[zoeykallus]

Hello,

Hope you have been doing well! I love your work and always look forward to reading your new stuff 💕

I was wondering if you could do some HC for the Bad Batch and possibly Rex about having a partner from a traditional family whose culture includes asking for blessings for marriage?

Aloha! Thank you, I hope you'll keep looking forward to reading my stuff 😊

Interesting Question! Let me see...

The Bad Batch/Rex x Reader HCs - The Blessing

Mainly Fluff/Maybe Some Eye Rolling (Crosshair)

_________________

Hunter

Basically, he has no problem with traditions as long as they don't harm anyone in any way. Asking your family for your hand in marriage, apart from being totally nervous, is not a problem.

Hunter has been preparing for this for a while, and his demeanor in front of your family is confident. He makes a good impression, polite, decent, dapper with just the right touch of modesty to make your family gush.

Now, your family may not be too keen on tattoos, or soldiers, or clones in general, but Hunter has a calm, collected as well as winning manner about him that will put most doubts to rest.

"I promise I will always take good care of them, and treat them with respect. I love them, with all my heart"

He has an engaging, calm manner about him that will probably go over well with your family. He comes across as conscientious, honest and decent. Hunter is the type of man who comes across as the perfect son-in-law and provider on such occasions, even though his appearance may be deceiving at first.

Hunter wants to make you happy and this intention, this desire is outwardly apparent on him, another point that makes him likeable in the eyes of your family.

Echo

Nervous doesn't even begin to describe it. Even though he knows that you both love each other very much, and basically he needs nothing more than that, but since in your culture the blessing of the family is very important, and he wants to show respect towards you, that includes your traditions and your family.

"I know I probably seem more like half a man," he says with a shy little smile, raising his Scomp link arm slightly in the air, "But my heart is still mine, and it beats solely for them, at full strength."

Echo is smart, humble, decent and sweet. His nervousness may be quite visible at one moment or another, but he is a good man, soldier and partner, that is also clearly evident in him.

The first meeting with your family may be a little bumpy, but eventually he emerges from it triumphant.

His kind, good-hearted nature is well received. His sense of justice and his ability to be modest and yet show backbone are convincing.

No matter how nervous he may be, he has good cards.

Wrecker

He is generally curious and open to you and everything around you, so he is also interested in your culture and traditions. Wrecker may be a bit nervous, but he has a healthy, unobtrusive self-confidence that gives him the right demeanor for the job.

Apart from his imposing appearance, his warm, sincere nature sweeps your family away. He finds it quite easy to dispel all doubts and convince everyone present of his qualities.

"Don't worry, I will always treat them very well, take good care of them and always protect them".

No one doubts that he can do all that. He is the center of attention and handles it confidently, making people laugh and feel safe. He has the talent to scare people around him if he has to, but he can also be incredibly appealing, sympathetic and pleasant, someone you feel comfortable with. Wrecker has things under control.

Tech

Yes, he is nervous, but he hides it quite well. Of course, he has prepared extensively, learned everything there is to learn about your culture, thought of good topics of conversation and got decent clothes in which he looks less like a soldier and more like a decent courter of your favor and that of your family, which he basically is.

A thirst for knowledge, curiosity and respect for you and your culture make the whole thing an interesting task for him to dedicate himself to, albeit with some nervousness.

Tech does well, even if his matter-of-fact nature initially causes minor stumbles in conversation. He is open, honest and has the best intentions, these are the qualities he carries in front of him, and he knows how to convince with them.

"I always will affectionately and to the best of my ability, care for them, in every way that they allow."

Crosshair

Oh boy....

"What's the point? I love you, and you love me, I don't need more than your permission".

At first, Crosshair resists, partly because he doesn't want to see anyone outside your relationship deciding about it. But a certain nervousness also plays a role, he is afraid of rejection, of what negative impact a failure on his part in front of your family could have on your relationship.

It takes a while, but he finally gives in. Crosshair pulls himself together, learns a lot about your culture with Tech's help, and dresses up accordingly. Dressed in his best suit and mannerisms, he introduces himself to your family. He's not really very talkative, but for this particular moment, he jumps over his own shadow. He is quieter, less talkative than the rest of his brothers are in this situation, but he is very respectful and polite.

"They will always be safe with me, cared for and loved. I hope you will consider agreeing to our union."

It bothers him a lot to have to ask permission, but he swallows his pride for your sake, at least for this moment.

Crosshair will not give up on the relationship even if your family resists him, but he keeps that fact to himself when talking to your family, at least for now. However, the likelihood of family approval is quite high, thanks to his ability to adapt, albeit reluctantly. This is important to him, even if he won't admit it directly.

Rex

He is sincere, decent and full of a sense of honor. Of course, he meets this challenge without grumbling and with full commitment, just as he devotes himself to everything else. Stately, with good manners and the best intentions, Rex introduces himself to your family and proposes his intentions towards you.

Rex is the perfect son-in-law, good manners, decent, handsome, intelligent and respectful. He has an incredibly winning manner, and he goes the extra mile, after all this is about your family and your future together.

It's unlikely that your family won't like him, clone or not, Rex is a great guy in every way and that he takes good care of you is obvious. You could hardly be in better hands.

Rex also has great respect for your culture and likes to learn all about it, adapting as best he can, another point that endears him to your family.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@starwarsnerd111

[thealogie]

Making an obvious point here, but the villainizing of the Seennants' partners speaks to a deep desire for more queer representation in the culture. In this case, the desire matches the delusion, but I feel a sneaking sympathy for the deeper drives behind this impulse. Two attractive, charming, middle-aged men who can flirt and riff off each other, who are also in love? Bring it on. So I get it. (I don't endorse the sexism and vitriol behind the attacks on their actual partners of course).

I would be curious to know if straight people are as interested in the Sheenant shipping.

I honestly don’t get it and don’t really have empathy for it. I am delighted whenever a famous person I like comes out as queer and want there to be so many more queer people in in front of and behind the camera. And I’m sympathetic to how YOU feel (wanting your faves to be gay without the sexism/vitriol)

but I think it’s so easy to not let “oh I wish my faves were in a relationship” turn into “i invite people onto my blog to obsessively take apart their lives and engage in paranoid thinking and conspiracy theories about their partners and the status of their relationships.” It’s honestly so easy to NOT do that. You just have to be specifically out of touch and sexist to do it.

[navibluebees]

I love your writing and was wondering your take on which of the recoms would be most and least likely to fall for a native na’vi and what would it take or involve. ❣️

Please read before interacting.

AHHH Thank youuuu & I love this one! Something about me is that I can talk about Avatar all damn day, so getting these asks is the best things ever. Here we go~

*Grading these on a scale of 1-10, Least-Most. Also idk how other recom creators choose personalities, but I just stare at their faces and reactions in gifs. It's entirely based off ~vibes~. I love that for us lol

Brown - 6

Not the first guy to jump at the chance. He's lighthearted, but holds very tightly to his roots. Probably wouldn't if the others weren't approving. I think he'd have to find a Na'vi who was more sympathetic to some humans, which I don't think would be super likely to happen. Potentially somebody from the Omaticaya if they had interacted a lot with the scientists like Max and Norm and hd a good experience being around them.

Fike - 4

He seems really uncertain. I think he's nervous in Pandora. When he told Kiri to shut up while she was praying in the hostage scene, it felt like there was a tremor in his voice and I don't think he's grown out of that initial fear of Pandora that he got as a human. It would probably take fully separating from RDA and being alone to mentally separate his two lives before he could learn to live in that world with another person.

Ja - 7

This baby. I think as a med service marine, he is very used to taking care of people. With spending his whole initial life up until his first death taking care of humans and being so woven into their lives, it would be hard for him, but I have this picture in my mind of working alongside other Na'vi and gaining their trust, working with their Tsahìk and finding a mate that way.

Lopez - 8

I think he'd be really drawn in by the beauty of Pandora. He might be similar to Jake in that he sees an assertive Na'vi and is like ooh I want them. Definitely has to prove himself, but he seems really adaptable. Would also enjoy teaching them Spanish and having cutie trilingual babies.

Mansk - 10

Send this man straight to the Tawkami clan. Surround him with many beautiful flowers and give him a life of peace, he deserves it. Sticking with my head canon that he saw some rough shit in the military and he just wants somewhere that he can be calm. His mate will weave him flower crowns and he can just live carefree and be happy always.

Prager - 7

He seems like a younger guy when he initially joined so I think it would be a difficult transition out of military life, but I think he would enjoy being a hunter in the Tayrangi clan. Just to fly often and feel so free. I think his mate would be a kind person. Very curious. He's exhausted from his previous life but would be open to answering any questions they have for him.

Quaritch - 6

At this very moment, boy needs to work on himself before bring another person into the mix, but I think once stuff is worked out with Spider, he'd be open to having a Na'vi mate. They would have to be strong. If not physically, then mentally. I think he needs someone to help share his burdens and someone that can keep up with him. Someone more okay with humans, obviously because of Spider.

Wainfleet - 10

I think he needs a partner. He seems like someone who would thrive in a romantic partnership with someone who could take care of him emotionally. He gives big softie vibes and I love him so much lol. But I think he would wait to see what Quaritch did. He might feel badly if he found a mate first and maybe let that guilt prevent him from being with someone.

Walker - 3

I don't really think so. She strikes me as someone who went to Pandora to provide for her family and fought like hell to get back to them. I think she'd feel guilty if she had another family on Pandora even if she won't ever be able to go back to her original family. Most likely would live with other recoms if they chose not to have mates either.

Warren - 3

I'm getting same vibes from him as Walker, with having a family he came to provide for. He gives off the vibe that he's been in the military a long time and was just finishing up his contract, and this was his last thing to do to bring home some money before he retired. Just vibing with the other recoms for companionship.

Zdinarsk - 9

Would do best mated to a gentler Na'vi. Similar to Quaritch, she needs someone who can match her wit and challenge her mentally, but not someone so similar that she butts heads. Similar to Wainfleet, I think she would wait to see what Quaritch did. I think she'd be likely to find a mate, but not necessarily feel like she had to have one.

Zhang - 2

He gives me more lone wolf vibes. Might join a clan to survive, but I think he would feel so set apart from the Na'vi that he isn't very likely to initiate a relationship with another person. He might carry a lot of guilt from his initial life. Otherwise, I see him, Warren, and Walker just vibing in the forest, living out their days.

***

Damn, this one was hard lol Thank you so much for requesting it, though. I love thinking about things like this, adding to the world lore and building the recoms into full characters.

Taglist:

@drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

[tfp-is-my-lifeblood-lol]

hi I love your work

I wanna ask if I can request the tfp bots would react to meeting a bot that hates humanity because they meet a human child who they developed a deep bond with but was kill by some bad humans and after that day they despise and resent humans and just seeing one is a huge Berserk bottom for them

Sure! Love me some angst!

TFP Autobots Reacting to a Bot that Hates Humans (because humans killed the Bot's human partner)

Optimus Prime:

-Optimus would be deeply saddened by this Bot's story. He would hate to think about Earth's creatures being violent, and making the same mistakes that Cybertronians have in the past

-Despite this, he would remind the Bot that hating humans isn't the answer.

"I sympathize with the tragedy you have suffered, friend. The loss of an innocent life, one whom you were close with, at the hands of any creature, is unacceptably cruel. However, might I remind you that, whatever human kind's faults...Cybertronian kind has committed its share of atrocities, likewise...perhaps even worse than that of human kind's. It is best not to judge a species by its most dangerous examples, for every species is capable of both great cruelty, and great acts of kindness."

-He'd constantly be encouraging the Bot to give humans another chance.

Ratchet:

-Learning the Bot's story would really catch Ratchet off-guard. After all, Ratchet complains about humans all the time...but, even though he won't admit it, he cares deeply for the children.

-So the thought of HUMANS harming other humans is very striking. He usually worries that a Decepticon might harm the kids. But, then again, there's also MECH.

-Ratchet wouldn't say much, but, inside, he'd wonder what HE would do if a human were to hurt Raf.

-Who knows. He might even tell the Bot that, although humans have their faults, the children have really grown on him. But he'd never tell the CHILDREN that, of course.

Arcee:

-She's probably the most sympathetic, having lost her own partners

-Not to mention she doesn't know WHAT she'd do if anything ever happened to Jack

-She'd encourage the Bot to go easy on humans, though, and, despite being sympathetic, she might be a bit mistrusting of the Bot

-After all, if the Bot hated humans enough to hurt Jack, Arcee would flip

Bumblebee:

-Bee would be fiercely protective of Raf

-He'd find the Bot's story sad, but he'd probably be the first to intervene if the Bot tried to harm a human

-Bee is used to stopping Arcee from going on crazy revenge sprees, so he wouldn't be afraid to do so in this situation as well

-If the Bot ever tried to attack a human, Bumblebee would stand in the corner making sad eyes, like: "Don't do it!"🥺

-Awww!

Bulkhead:

-He'd be genuinely curious

-How did the Bot's human partner manage to get scrapped by another human?

-Let's hope the Bot never gets into an argument with Bulkhead, because Bulk might even be a little judgmental, accusing the Bot of being a lousy guardian.

-He'd be suspicious of the fact that a giant robot was unable to stop tiny humans from terminating their partner

-Someone should really remind Bulk that MECH exists, and they're capable of fighting Cybertronians. Don't worry. Optimus will probably tell him off.

Wheeljack:

-He'd point to Miko, and say: "What are you talkin' about? Humans are great, if you ask me. Just look at this one. She scrapped an Insecticon singlehandedly, with nothin' but the push of a button. BOOM."

-He'd probably get along with this Bot pretty well, since he's so laid back

He'd tell the human-hating Bot:

"Don't worry, pal. Miko, Bulk and I will keep whatever trouble you have off your tail. Be it pesky Decepticons or bad-news humans. Nothin' a good grenade can't fix. Right, Miko?"

Miko: "Boo ya!"

Smokescreen:

-He's VERY no-thoughts-head-empty about this whole situation

-He even makes jokes about it

"That Bot REALLY hates humans, huh? Haha! Maybe they're secretly afraid of them. There's gotta be...like...a name for that, right? Human...aphobia? Squishy-phobia?"

-He tries to scare the Bot by sneaking up on them and talking in a squeaky voice: "HELLO, (Bot name)! I'm a scary human, coming to accidentally get stepped on and squished. WooooOOOOoooo!"

-Of course, the Bot would never fall for his tomfoolery, and everyone would reprimand Smokescreen for it afterwards

Ultra Magnus:

-He hasn't been on this planet that long, so he might even believe this new Bot's perspective on humans

-He'd ask Optimus: "Is it true what our new recruit claims about humans? If they are not to be trusted, we should do something about it."

Of course, Optimus would say: "(name of Bot)'s judgement is clouded by revenge, Ultra Magnus. Rest assured, the Autobot cause may never have made it as far as it has without the help of our human friends."