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neiptune · 7 months ago

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just her color

cw: 2.7 wc, female reader, violence, gore, it gets pretty descriptive, slightly nsfw (y'all have sex lol), dark academia(ish) setting

“A girl has been found dead on campus” Jean’s brows are furrowed as he skims through his twitter timeline “shit, I think I know who she is?”

“What?” Sasha straightens up in her seat, iced latte promptly put down. The table grows silent, you’ve grabbed Jean’s wrist to peek at his screen in disbelief. Someone dying at your college, the most boring place on earth, is difficult to believe.

“Holy shit” you let go of your friend’s wrist and meet Sasha’s gaze “it’s Yuki. Remember? She used to be in our history class”

She opens her mouth in a small “o”, realization freezing her surprised features.

“Nakamura Yuki?” Eren’s breath catches in his throat “that’s impossible, I literally saw her last week. Didn’t she tutor students with you, ‘Min?”

“Yeah but that was last year” Armin shakes his head “what the hell happened? From what I remember she didn’t care for parties or weird companies”

“Not sure, they’re jut saying she’s been found outside her dorm” Jean puts away his phone with a grim look on his face, cappuccino long forgotten. Connie used to have a crush on that girl, he hopes to find him before he has the chance to get the news from social media.

“Do you guys think it was an accident?” all pigment seems to have been sucked out of Eren’s face and you instinctively push back some of the hair from his forehead.

“An accident? What d’you mean?” you tilt your head to the side, pose the question carefully weighing each word.

“I don’t know. Alcohol poisoning? Maybe someone spiked her drink?”

A shudder teases your spine, almost makes you retract your hand. “So you’re saying… someone did it?”

“Not on purpose. I’m just speculating”

“Why?” Sasha chimes in “stop it, it’s weird. If something’s off, the school is gonna tell us”

“Yeah, right, they definitely will” you scoff.

“Maybe it was like a heart attack” Armin seems unconvinced himself as he finishes his tea, surely gone cold by now.

“Sure, that sounds likely” you push back the mug containing your black coffee, suddenly nauseous “next time my parents ask how things are going up here, I’ll finally have the perfect answer. Oh, you’ll never guess the novelty: girls are being murdered on campus now!”

“No one’s been murdered” Eren is annoyed and eager to change the subject. Everyone else is too. You kinda get it: it’s weird that a girl you all somehow knew is suddenly dead, it’s even weirder that something so dreadful had to happen on your campus of all places.

On the slopes of mount Rokko, in Kobe, nothing really ever happens. You attend a private university that counts a few thousand students and an international exchange program that no one really ever applies to. Your professors like to call the insistution “Kobe’s best kept secret” but to you that’s just a pretentious way to present an old school with an even older set of rules that simply make your lives excruciatingly harder. No visits allowed except for graduations or special ceremonies, everyone is supposed to be in their rooms by 9:30 pm (as security keeps a record of students who are caught roaming in the corridors at night), no one is allowed to leave the building except for Sundays and even then if you don’t have your identity card with you, the chances that you’ll spend the night in the woods are pretty high because security doesn’t really give a shit.

But if they don’t mind leaving students locked outside for the night (it has happed), the appreciation for bribes runs equally high: it’s not uncommon among students to offer as much as ¥308,230 to buy their silence for a plethora of activities. Money is power even on top of mount Rokko and it can be used to secure sex, parties, drugs, alcohol, just like it does anywhere else.

Which is why everyone seems to be asking themselves the same question: who the hell used money to secure an assassination?

Soon after the finding and despite the rector’s efforts, Yuki’s picture was passed around in group chats and social media posts like a collectible card. Most senders had the decency to forward the blurred version of the photo but pretty much everyone saw the first, original variant, and the school couldn’t keep it a secret for a minute longer: a murder it was.

You spent the following days unable to get proper sleep, eyes wide open scanning the ceiling for the majority of the night, the image of that girl’s empty, horrified stare chasing you until dawn, pulse rapidly tapping against your skin at the thought. Sasha doesn’t speak of her nightmares but you’re sure they resemble your own dreams: one hand pointlessly closed around a pale throat slashed open, the dark halo of thin hair framing a face gone cold, liquid red lipstick smeared across lips like a macabre tribute to joker.

If few can get out of the school, basically no stranger can step foot inside. Which means, and every single female student is painfully aware of it, that they are sharing their campus with a killer.

You’ve all been moving in packs lately, no girl has been seen wandering around the school without her friends or boyfriend and you’re no exception: if Sasha is almost always escorted by Jean and Connie, Eren basically refuses to leave your side and has been staying the night more and more often.

“I know cops freak you out” he tries to keep the spirits high, indulges in some humor to ease part of the tension in your shoulders as the investigation unfolds and strangers search your dorm a million times.

“Pigs” you utter under your breath shortly before flashing a smile to one of the officers you pass by on your way to class “how dumb d’you have to be to be still groping in the dark? They’re clueless”

He shrugs, trying hard to suppress a smirk because what the hell, they’re only there because a girl has been murdered and it wouldn’t be appropriate to smile “they’ll never figure it out anyway”

You look up at him, confusion evident by the crease between your brows. Eren clears his throat.

“Everyone knows the school wants to handle this shit internally” he lowers his voice in a murmur “I wouldn’t be surprised if the rector was actually trying to get rid of them”

“What the fuck? Why would he do that? Parents are already freaking out, threatening to pick up their kids and cancel their enrollments, does the rector want to reign over an abandoned bulk of shitty old bricks?”

“How much did you look into those articles about our school that Armin sent us last year?” Eren tilts his head a little, an amused twitch of the lips indicating that he’s about to do the thing you hate the most: be a smartass.

“Not much” you stand defeated and your boyfriend grins.

“It’s not the first time someone’s died here, Gako has a pretty long history of secret societies that are believed to have performed some fucked up initiations. It’s mainly why we don’t have them anymore, at least officially. The degree of independence from the rectorate was pretty high, they essentially had an agreement: vivit et vivet”.

“What?” your brows furrow, skeptical. Eren basks in your confusion.

“Live and let live. Keep your nose out of our business and we’ll do our best to stay discreet”

You refrain from asking where the fuck he even learned latin as a more urgent question arises. “But why would the rectorate even agree?”

“Those students came from some of the richest, most influential families of the Taisho era. Gako cares a lot about history and tradition and…”

“Prestige”

Eren nods.

“They kept the money flowing and the name shining. Those societies were Gako, I bet our current rector himself is an ex member of the Cauda Venenum or whatever the fuck it was”

There’s a pause as the story sinks in, all the implications that single revelation could hold. “Wow. You seem to have really enjoyed those articles, Armin must’ve been thrilled”

He laughs a bit at that and shrugs, pulls you closer to his body, pretends not to notice the inkling shadow of suspicion quivering beneath the surface of your words.

You don’t point out that what happened to Yuki is far from resembling an initiation, nor you dwell on the main undertone of the entire conversation: if what Eren said is true, the case could very well remain unsolved and the murderer would be allowed to roam free through the halls, perhaps for evermore. The mere thought sends a chill down your spine. Vivit et vivet.

The Yuki topic is banned from being discussed with Sasha, she gets nervous really easily and is already painfully on edge every single day. Despite Jean and Connie basically never leaving her side, you know part of her wishes she had a boyfriend to rely on or keep close at night, one that would pull her into him as she wakes up from those hellish nightmares, chest heaving painfully. That’s precisely why you don’t bring up Eren to her: not his weirdly cemented assumptions, not the fact that you want to keep your distance for at least a day or two. And so, as it often happens, Armin becomes the designated listener to all your bitching and moaning.

“He’s just being weird, I guess” you grumble over breakfast, a portion of blueberry pancakes covered in dense syrup “and I don’t know how to make it clear to him”

“How to make what clear to him?”

“That he’s giving me the creeps”

Your friend chuckles at that.

“I’m sure Eren’s simply as freaked out as everyone else, he’s just trying to make sense out of the whole thing. I do appreciate that at least someone went through the material I shared, though”

“I was plannin’ to” you protest “eventually”

“Sure you were” Armin rolls his eyes but there’s fondness in his resigned gaze.

A comfortable silence drapes over the two of you as you keep eating, the chatter floating around the mess hall reaches you like the rolling of heavy, long sea waves. There’s a storm raging outside, although not much can be seen from the stained glass windows that are closer to the vaulted ceilings than the long, wooden tables filled with students. The only real indicators are the distant rumbling of the thunder and a group of pupils who barged through the doors soaked from head to toe.

“I know you’re just as scared, y’know” Armin calmly cuts through the silence, eyes on his now empty plate “even if you always wanna act all tough”

“Yes, I’ll admit I’m slightly nervous at the idea that a murderer is currently wandering around our school and that our rector may very well be doing nothing to actually find said homicidal maniac” the words come out harsher than intended so you try to soften them around the edges “sorry, I just… it’s shitty. And I feel like I don’t get to complain because I have a boyfriend who is always making sure I’m not lonely or scared while…”

“Sasha doesn’t?”

Ugh, Armin. Ever the receptive empath.

You hang your head lower, shoulders hunched. He offers another one of his gentle smiles.

“A student has been found with her throat split open, on campus. I think you get a pass for being nervous about it, even if you have a boyfriend”

“Thank you, ‘Min” the smile you offer in exchange is probably not as sweet nor fully persuaded but you do truly appreciate his courtesy.

When you get back to your room at the end of a very long, tiring and unfortunately wet day (you 100% forgot to bring your just-in-case umbrella and thought running would be a safe, dry enough strategy to bolt from one class to the other), all you want is to kick off your muddy shoes, add some logs to the fireplace, take a piping hot shower and melt into the comfort of your bed. However, it’s not often you have the room all to yourself: Sasha is going to spend the night in Connie’s room, the only place in the entire school where she feels safe enough to get a good night sleep.

You decide to text Eren and ask him to come over. Although you never directly addressed your concerns or discomfort, he must’ve sensed the desire to keep to yourself for a few days and he’s been gracious enough to step back and grant some space. You don’t necessarily feel guilty about it but you’d lie if you said you didn’t miss him and his stupid, sometimes awfully inappropriate jokes. You’re in love with him after all, insufferably in love one could say (and Jean has before).

Eren is the one person you’d do everything for, the only man you could dedicate your entire life to. And it’s not just because he’s attractive, emotionally intelligent, a good friend and just generally a kind, good-hearted person. It’s because he loves you just as much, knows that you were made for each other, like a perfect match determined by a superior force, some higher power, a deity that held a flame to both your hearts and sealed your fate for all eternity. That’s how being in love with Eren feels.

That’s what you always think about when he fucks you into the mattress, as you moan as loud as he likes it, as you beg for him to go faster, harder, whenever he teases you with a painfully slow roll of the hips. He knows you belong to him just as much as he belongs to you and, god, what never fails to send you over the edge each time is the thought that he adores belonging to you more than he enjoys owning you. You have him, all of him, and by god you’ll make sure that never changes.

Tonight, the thought of Yuki infiltrates your brain once more, no matter how much you work to keep it at bay. What did she feel while being slashed open? Did she die from damage to the trachea or the carotid arteries? The latter seems to be more likely, the blood vessels the run up each side of the neck will bleed profusely if severed and she did bleed a lot, probably ended up chocking on her own blood, right as the blood flow to the brain was compromised. Still, you hope her heart didn’t stop too quickly.

Most people believe that cutting a human’s throat is the same as slahing open an animal’s. But you’re not supposed to place the knife at right angle only to press and draw it across the skin: the best way is actually to find the soft spot below the junction of the jaw and the neck, position the point of the knife right there and thrust it in, gently guiding the blade along the bundle of neck cords until you reach the same soft spot on the opposite side. The correct location is not hard to find: tracing a finger back from the lower jawbone to the place where the bone turns upwards and then lowering it slightly is just enough.

You wonder if forensic pathologists have been allowed to take a look at the body, if the autopsy reported that a right handed person has firmly restrained the victim from behind despite no weapon having been recovered from the crime scene.

What a loss, ever the tragedy, a young and pretty life being severed so early on. She was lovely, especially with that little cherry lipstick she’d always carry around, the one that complimented her fair skin perfectly. You didn’t want her to bid farewell to this world with an ugly face, not when red looked so good on her. Burgundy was just her color.

Eren is showering when his phone, left on your nightstand, lights up.

(Aiko, 10:07 pm) hey!

(Aiko, 10:07 pm) working on that paper today was really fun :) wanna meet up again tomorrow?

(Aiko, 10:08 pm) this time I promise coffee is on me

Good grief.

There’s never really an end to the ladies you have to deal with, is there?

#eren x reader #eren x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you

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itsjusbleh · 2 months ago

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Beneath the surface

Chat Noir x reader

Chapter one — Acrophobia

Moving to Paris is a fresh, fresh beginning for you. Maybe it was a too big of a leap, but you’re excited, and you’re young, so why not? Though you can’t ignore the tender ache in your stomach. Gotta love anxiety.

It’s only when you step through the inside doors that you realise you have left your damn water bottle behind at your apartment. But then the bell rings, and immediately there’s a hundred footsteps, talking and yelling and someone actually barges into you. You can’t tell who it was anyway because they get lost in the sea of moving people. Scrambling for your campus map, you try and find your class. B5?

Finally finding the room, you open the door with an exasperated energy. But upon seeing the space, you realise that the class is not cinematography. At all.

A naked muscular man sits in the front of the room, posing on a stool as the student artists paint a portrait. Your eyes spring open and you can feel people start to look at you. You go to leave, stepping backwards. “Shit— sorry! I’m in the wrong class—“

You bump into a table filled with clay figures, fumbling a bunch of apologies as you knock one over and it smashes on the ground. What’s even worse is that people begin laughing as your skin flushes warm. You fall to the ground and scramble at the broken pieces.

”Hey—“

At the sudden close proximity of a voice, your head snaps up. A clean hit to the owner of the voice’s nose. A groan comes from above you as you whip your attention to the person.

His hand clutches at his face as you blabber, “I am so so sorry, oh my god…”

”It’s okay, it’s okay,” he pinches his nose, eyes squinted. “You dropped this,” he extends your book towards you with his free hand.

You tuck your hair out of your face and when you get a proper look at him, you swallow dryly. It’s when his green eyes finally meet yours, and you take your book with quick fingers.

He offers you a little smile, but it falters when he looks to the smashed pot on the ground.

You tuck your book tightly into your chest. “Was that yours?” You ask softly, face contorted in shame.

“Yes,” he slowly says, lolling those green eyes back to yours, and you catch the smallest twitch of them widening. “It’s… fine, though.”

Oddly enough, there’s a second of silence before the professor echoes a loud ‘ahem’. You scramble out of the class, offering another clumsy sorry as you leave, unknowingly having the same pair of green eyes following you as you do.

Once you’re finally in cinematography, a nice girl with tan skin and dark red hair chats to you as she polishes her glasses. She says her name’s Alya and it’s hard because you’re trying to listen to the teacher, especially because he was a bit annoyed at your lateness but she’s blabbering in your ear. You don’t have the heart to try and tell her to stop especially because you’re new and well, alone. You need to make friends.

”I was supposed to be taking audio and film instead of this class, but apparently, this branches more opportunity,” she uses quote fingers, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, I can thank my boyfriend for that—“

She gets hushed by the teacher, but after five seconds she slowly turns her head back to you, as if expecting you to start talking.

“I’m taking a performing arts bachelor,” you whisper. “I’d like to be an actress… or something like that.”

“Oooh nice,” Alya wiggles her words, once again getting hushed by the teacher.

After two full, long classes, you head out into the main courtyard like most of the students at the university. Some are on phones, some are in animated conversation. You see an oak tree at the far end of the courtyard, with a wide trunk and plenty of shade. You can’t see anyone nearby, so you make your way over, and you plan to sit on the grass against the tree when you feel someone clutch your shoulder.

”Girl, where do you think you’re going?” Ayla’s voice seeps into your ears, her glossed lips stretched in a smile. You open your mouth to reply but she beats you to it, pulling your shoulder to walk with her. “Come meet my best frieeend, oh my god, you’ll love Marinette, she’s amazing.”

You follow her with a nod, a pleasant wave of relief actually washing through you. She pulls you to a table under a tree’s shade. Marinette has black hair with a tinge of blue hue that just curls around the mid of her neck, kind blue eyes and you can just tell she’s a warm soul. She waves, offering a hello.

She tells you she’s studying in fashion design, and as you tell her your bachelor, she coos. “Performing arts? Are you looking to book any roles in Paris? We have some opportunities here, theatre wise— oh, and advertisements, films…”

“I would love that, I just… need to see if I’m actress material, I guess. I know how difficult it is to get into the acting industry, and I’m taking some extra classes with a studio every week, so…”

”Hey, I know a guy that can hook you up with some opportunities,” Alya grins, nudging Marinette with a smug look. “Adrien Agreste,” she lets the name roll of her tongue, smooth and knowing.

Marinette rolls her eyes at Alya, but she turns to you with a hopeful smile. “Actually, that is true. He’s done plenty of things like that.”

As they say this, you wonder who this said guy is. It’s obvious that they know him well, which is good in your case. You pick up a french fry and dip it in ketchup.

“Who’s that?” You munch on the fry, voice muffled a little by it.

”Uhh… oh, he’s over there,” Alya points behind you. You turn and see where she’s pointing, to a group of people standing around. “The one in the navy pullover.”

The one in the navy pullover. You look for the clothing, and once found, you rake your eyes up to the face to match. You almost choke on your french fry, a strangled sound coming from your throat as Alya pats your back immediately. That’s insane because that’s the guy that you socked in the nose. Not to mention, you broke his clay piece.

Shit. Yeah, that’s him. What a small world. You turn around slowly back to the girls, shrinking in on yourself.

“What?” Both girls say in tune, confused at your expression.

“This morning I mixed up my classes and I bumped into him and I smashed his clay piece,” you clutch at your forehead, embarrassed. They both ease into a laugh. Your mind reels at just the thought of the humiliating situation. They attempt to reassure you, and you smile at their pure friendliness, but it drowns out a little as you take another peak at him.

To your utter shock, you catch his gaze. He seems surprised too because his expression sets into a stunned one. He quickly adverts his eyes, regaining his attention on a friend. You screw your lips up, a tinge of confusion bubbling in your chest.

Your first day wasn’t unbearable, but it wasn’t a piece of cake either. The first bite into your freshly baked croissant has you drooling. The buttery, flaky layers of the pastry melt in your mouth, releasing a rich, buttery flavor that dances on your tongue. It’s a nice breeze through Paris, seeping against your cheeks and you’re thankful for the spare time you have.

Suddenly the ground shakes, and the salts and peppers on your cafe table fall to the ground with an eery smash. An earthquake? You never knew they were prone in Paris. But then you hear a maniacal laugh echo throughout the street. The rustle of chairs moving and shoes squeaking fills your ears, and looking around you see that people are running into hiding.

What is going on?

A fast blur of red and black whips past, a powerful feminine voice yelling something out. You’re frozen in your chair, croissant now splattered along the pavement. You tilt to look at your treat now gone, a wave of grief rocking you.

Another suited figure runs by you. He wears a black suit, golden blond hair and shifting cat ears. He tosses a shout, “You should be inside! It’s too danger—rooooouuussss…” his head turns as he looks at you, sharp, emerald eyes giving you a one-down as his run slows to a stop, “hello.”

You look around quickly, seeing if he’s talking to anyone else but there’s no one else. Anywhere. “Hi,” you say, a tone of a question as you feel a shudder slip down your back at the way his eyes gobble you up. There’s a sinister swing of his hips as he walks toward you, a challenging stare that you can’t replicate.

“Ma chérie, you can’t be out here,” he tsks. With him this close, you can really look at him. His soft blond hair running wild at his neck, defined muscles cut against leather, the little dimple in his cheek from his wicked grin. What a being. “There’s a possibility you can get caught in the crossfire, and I would hate to see this pretty face get hurt.”

You nod gently, spacing out a little.

A truck gets thrown across the street in the background. His flirty demeanour flattens as he blinks, his whacky grin slipping. “Are you in shock?”

You shrug. You hear him mumble something under his breath, maybe along the lines of ‘shit’ and ‘poor thing’ but you can’t really tell from the loud crashing and banging noises going on around you. He taps his foot a little, cat ears flicking like he’s thinking.

“Chat Noir!” The same female voice from before snaps, and you watch the way his ears flatten, an exasperated groan escaping his lips.

”I’ll come back for you, ma chérie, just—“

Another loud shout, and he suddenly clutches you by the arm.

“Be a good girl and go into the cafe, come on,” his voice is tender and guiding, leading you through the cafe doors and practically carrying you there. “There we are, that’s it, puurfect.”

The way he mutters that last word against your ear makes you shiver, and all you can do is nod to him and his words. He sits you down on one of the couches, giving your arm one last graze before zooming out into the Parisian streets. You aren’t in shock. Are you? You’re just confused. As fuck.

You don’t know how long it’s been until there’s a flash of pinkish white that blinds you and you cover your face with an arm. Blinking away the shine, there’s an evident clearing of the sky, and herds of civilians creep out from their hidings. You decide to stay in the cafe for a while, grabbing for your phone as something comes up on your web, Ladyblog News.

Superheroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir. How have you never ever heard of this? You feel stupid, ridiculously stupid. Making your way out of the cafe and heading to your apartment, you duck into an alleyway shortcut.

”Why such a rush? I said I’d come back for you.”

The sudden noise makes you swish around, coming into contact with a leathered arm. Thick, leathered arm. The feline heroine has that arm leaned against the alleyway’s brick wall, looking you down like a predator. This guy is big on dramatic effect.

“I’ve just moved to Paris, and this… this is all very new to me,” you explain, wondering why it was difficult to keep eye contact.

“Oh, chèrie, I know…” he draws out, letting his eyes roll down your figure. “I might need to go home with you.”

His words send your mind in a frenzy, it makes your throat grow tingly. “Why?”

”For safety measures, of course. Why else?” He tilts his head at you as if it were obvious, the bell on his suit dinging lightly. That implication was prominent and you knew it, he was sly. “Your legs feel okay?”

”They feel fine,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. You have to admit, they’re a bit jittery from before. You duck out from the alleyway and he follows.

“Mmm, I’m not sure I believe that,” he reaches behind himself to grab something, and when it comes into view it looks like a metal bar. He slides an arm around your waist. “You afraid of heights?”

You raise an eyebrow at his question, confusion once again filling you as he grabs your arm to wrap it around his neck. “…No.”

There’s a glint of a grin on his devilish lips. “And which one’s your building?”

You point in the direction to the blue apartment building in the distance. “That one,” you respond.

Without warning, you’re lifted up into the air. You screech, arms flying out and attaching to him magnetically. You can hear a low chuckle from him as your heart pounds against your ribcage. You don’t dare to peek out from his chest, eyes sealed shut as wind snips through the gaps of your hair.

“Which one?” Chat Noir asks, giving you a little nudge.

”Seventh floor, farthest left,” you rush, gripping him as if your life depended on it. There’s a thud and a commotion, and when he gently sets you down, it takes you a second to detach from him.

You immediately go to land a solid punch into his shoulder, a hiss like noise screeching out of him.

“Heeeey…” he pouts, to which you jab a finger at his chest.

“You should’ve warned me!” You scold harshly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His tongue runs along his smirking bottom lip, a glimpse of his white canines catching your eye. You only groan frustratedly, folding your arms. “Your balcony has a beautiful view,” Chat Noir praises.

You sigh. “I know, you can see the Eiffel from here and I didn’t even pay extra—“

”I wasn’t talking about the landscape,” he mutters. You turn to see his sneaky green eyes locked on you, seemingly proud at his flirtatious quip. Your arms tense in your hold, unable to play it cool as you let a smile creep onto your face. You hear a quiet beeping sound and you catch the way his eyebrows stitch down as he looks at his ring finger.

“What’s wrong?” You utter, unfolding your arms.

“I have to leave,” Chat Noir grunts, annoyance twinged in his voice. He takes your hand in his, giving it a swift kiss in apology. “Selfishly, I beg of you to go into shock more.”

You actually giggle at his silly statement, going to take your hand back but his grip doesn’t falter. His slimmed, feline pupils dilate with your sound.

“What’s your name?” He asks gently, smoothing his gloved thumb over your knuckle. You say it without a thought, quiet enough that it could be mistaken for another gust of Paris’s wind. He leans back towards the bars of your balcony with a smirk, and with one last look that he steals, he jumps off your balcony.

#miraculous ladybug #chat noir #chat noir x reader #adrien agreste x reader #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #chat noir fanfiction

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mirakurutaimu · 1 year ago

Note

have you ever talked about the origins of your sona/her design inspirations before? ive always really loved her design and i like hearing about how nice character designs come to be

here is the full tale

she started off as a mere picrew years ago

and then people drew fanart of that design whenever i started streaming (like this retro mimi model @catastrothy made)

and then at some point i thought "hm wouldn't it be cool if i paid an artist to make her design better" and then i approached noted good local artist @cnmchn and we went back and forth on some stuff and She were born proper

here is some other behind the scenez

hair accessories were considered at one point but then we thought of the ミ earrings and i just colored in one of her streaks black lmao

final design ended up using a combination of outfit elements from our two examples, rip to alt universe skirt spats and kneesocks short braid loose hoodie long shirt ribs mimi (she will be missed) (i should draw that sometime)

anyways thats all. thats da mimi roundup. sure hope read mores function on this site

edit: i forgot to mention design inspirations.

uh. riamu failgirl, kumbhira granblue, we almost stole astolfo's haircut sans hair vents (though I think it was actually edward elric who made me think 'braid'), vampy granblue. as for the tenets of her design i just wanted a cute, colorful, energetic, annoying, smug, punchable little beast to match my vibe. her fashion sense is like the complete opposite of mine tho lmao this little freak dresses in this skimpy summery crop top and short shorts getup and shit meanwhile i'm a jeans-all-year and longsleeves/hoodie at all times kinda bitch. at least she still melts in the heat like i do

anyways i figure i may as well dump some silly canon stuff here too:

she's a being from what she says is 'the hell that froze over' (because it sounds cool), in actuality it's probably something more like a frozen-over planet with some level of aquatic life under the ice.

at a base level, she's kinda like... if a slimegirl was a crab? like, she's not made out of slime it's still Meat Stuff but it's definitely amorphous and should usually be contained within a thick carapace on the exterior (so when fully shelled, lookin like some kinda scary lookin pointy bone demon). she claims to have lost hers or that it hasn't grown in yet or some such (hence she only has the horn covering)

anyways. her inside meat being amorphous = limited shapeshifting ability, so she somehow ended up on Earth and is posing as a humanoid and having a ton of fun eating and smoking and breaking stuff. but she still fuckin' hates the sun and heat

other fun facts:

loves meat, milk, sweet stuff, clothes, sleeping, swimming, video james (bad at them), money

hates spicy stuff, hot weather, working, people as stubborn as she is, waiting

i'm torn on when her birthday should be. officially it's technically 5/21, but 3/3 would be cute...

believes drinking milk will help grow her shell in

has a strong sixth sense due to having similar organic function to ampullae of lorenzini

durable. if you punch her it caves in like some monkey d luffy shit

#askmi #impicture #vtuber

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anomaly-hivemind · 1 year ago

Text

Collar ID || collaring w/Yuri Briar x Afab! Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 1609

Tags: dom! reader, POC reader,flogging, latex, cock stepping, groveling, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, degradation, praise kink, squirting

I was sitting in bed, bonnet on snuggly , with a can of fruit in hand. Watching some random comedy horror that I found on netflix. It was only to pass the time while I waited for my boyfriend. It was around the usual time that Yuri would be on his way home if nothing came up. I scroll a bit on my phone when I get a notification from Yuri.

“Gonna be a bit late coming home, I got a bit of paperwork I want to finish. “ The message read and I let out an annoyed sigh. I don’t feel like waiting for him to finish work because I know that just means he's not going to get home until I was long asleep. I smile, as a mischievous idea comes to mind.

I take my oversized top off, my naked breast getting the blunt of the cold air from this bedroom. I lay on my stomach and posed so that my butt was in the view of my camera. I push my tits together and set my timer so I can take a photo. When the picture was taken I sent it to Yuri.

“Can't wait for you my pet, I miss you ;]” I sent the message right after the photo and waited.

Read.

Wow this was my breaking point. He couldn’t even dignify my unadulterated sexyness with a whiny emoji or anything!

I dropped my phone on the bed and went to my closet. I pushed past my regular clothes to where all my lingerie was. Silk was soft, coquette, not the vibe I was looking for. Lace? No, no it still had an air of delicacy.

Here, perfect. Latex. I hadn’t worn this set before. I smirk as I slip into the snug latex body suit. The suit hugged my curves tightly, had a boob window, the back out and the crotch exposed. If anything, it was a shame, I didn’t wear it as often. I sent Yuri another photo this time in my bodysuit.

“I don't appreciate you leaving me to read ):( ” I text him, and again get left on read but faster this time. What the hell is he doing?

A few minutes pass and the house opens and an out of breath boyfriend walks into the house. Yuri walks over to me with a desperate look on his face, his strong grip on my shoulders.

“I’m so sorry baby,” Yuri dropped to his knees and kissed me on my neck.

“I’ll only give you a light punishment since you came home earlier than normal.” I kept a straight face even if his kisses felt good.

“You're still gonna punish me… but I came home early.” yuri whined as he tried to give me the puppy dog eyes. Too bad for him that shit hardly works on me.

“Maybe if you beg for my entire forgiveness I'll let you go.” I smirk, my words were a set up and I'm sure he knows it. But that doesn’t matter, he was going to do what I said anyway.

Yuri dropped to his knees in front of me, he leaned down and placed a kiss on my foot. A smile grows on my face as he does, I stare at his cute butt. He looked out at me and I could see the lust in his eyes. I moved down to sit on our bed, he started to kiss up from the ankle to my upper calf.

“Strip.” I lean over to a drawer beside the and up out a dog collar, my eyes never leaving Yuri. I watch with a smile as he slowly takes off his uniform. I clip the collar around his neck, the cold dog tags make his skin shiver. He was shirtless and was making his way out his pants. He was hunched over in his boxers, his erection twitching and was practically begging for my attention. I pressed my foot against his crotch, giving his cock a light shove. He let out a little whine that made my cunt throb. I tilt his chin up so that he is looking up at me.

“So do you have something to tell me, pet?” I hold his face in place, squishing his cheeks slightly.

“I’m sorry….”

“For?” my toes pinch his balls and he tenses up, the dog tags of his collar jigging as he moves.

“Leaving you on read?” I nod.

“And” I ran my hand through his hair.

“Always co-coming home late.”

“Good boy, What do you think I should do now? Forgive you or pushish you?” my smirk grew a bit as i already knew what my little freak would say.

“My love, please forgive me, I want to taste you” he shuffled a bit closer, pushing my foot harder against his weeping dick. He whimpered from the pressure but I wasn’t going to cave. I could feel his dick growing harder under my foot and pressed my hut down harder.

“You would like that wouldn't you.” I adjusted the strap of my latex bodysuit, loosening the strings so I could move it better as I pleased. I put more pressure on his cloth cock practically stepping on him and he groaned.

“Please, my love…” Yuri moaned breathlessly.

“No. You won’t tempt me, you seducer, and I’m sick that you keep trying to get out of your punishments.

“But-“

“Hush, Pet, now bend over. I’ve had enough of this disrespect.

Yuri gulped hard, “Yes ma’am,”

Yuri walked over to the storage drawers in the closet and pulled out. A leather flog, I rubber by thumb over the braided handle of the flog I make sure to pull him fully out of his boxers.

“Baby, please.” he pouts and holds back a whimper.

“You better keep count or I'm going to start over, nut i guess I slut like you would like that.” I swing the flog over his asscheek.

“One…” Yuri made sure to say through his yelp. We repeat this fourteen other times before I'm somewhat satisfied to stop. Yuri had hot adorable tears threatening to drop down his face, it would almost make me feel bad if I hadn't known how much he enjoyed this.

He had his tell-tell signs; like how his dick was pretty much begging to cum or how he tried to hold back moans and groans with each solid impact I made on his body.

“Okay now if you can make me cum I’ll forgive your little behavior,” I said, placing one hand on my hip and the other soothingly rubbing Yuri‘s ass.

“Yes ma’am,” Yuri said, straightening up.

I laid back on the bed, spreading my legs open to expose my glistening pussy. Yuri inches closer, I could feel his breath on my folds.

“Go ahead, I know a loose man like yourself is dying without your fix,” I said and without hesitation Yuri dived in.

His tongue runs a slow stride to my clit, he was savoring the taste as he let out a pleased murmur. He was slurping up my juices like he didn't drink anything in months. Lapping up my arousal like he was on a mission and knowing my lover boy, he definitely sees this as such. He was a military man after all, working for the police and such.

But none of that was really important right now. I was too busy feeling the great action of Yuri sliding his fingers into my wetness. The way he curled his digits against my walls, made me fall back onto the bed and let out a moan. He alway knew how to get me going, how to push me closer and near to the edge. I could feel him smirk against my cunt and I pulled his hair in a quick yank that made him moan.

Yuri starts to focus more on my clit, making sharp circles on the nub, and long sucks that make my toes curl. His fingers thrusted onto my spot and I let out a short cry, he was going to make me cum any second now.

The feeling was winding up in my core, a coil ready to snap at any moment.

“You’re such a good slut, isn't that right?” I asked, running my fingers through Yuri’s hair. He hummed, against my muff the soft vibrations traveling through the mound of flesh..

As Yuri’s fingers stroked my g-spot and he sucked on my clit, something finally snapped. Warm fluid gushed from my pussy making a mess on Yuri’s face but like a good pet he lapped it up, and licked off what ran down my folds. My hips bucked from the sensitivity of having just cum, into the air and subsequently against Yuri’s face.

“Fuck. That was good.” I said breathlessly, my body sliding down so I was laying down more than sitting up.

“Does that mean all is forgiven… Ma’am” Yuri asked with his pathetic boy slut face.

“Fine, I forgive you now. But if you do that shit again I'll come up with a way harsher punishment. Understand. “ I said sternly even if I was a bit out of breath my point came across the way it was supposed to be and that's all that mattered.

“Yes ma'am.” he nods and licks his lips off my juices.

“Good now, come up here, I want to cuddle.” I pull him into a hug as soon as he gets close enough to fall into my grasp.

#anime #spy family #spy x family #yuri #yuri briar #yuri x reader #yuri briar x reader #smut #yuri briar smut #spy family smut #spy x family smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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patchworkgargoyle · 2 years ago

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i'll miss you more than anyone

Time for some Steddie yearning hours!

1.9k words, rated T for language. Angsty pining with a happy, fluffy ending. Basically unedited because I'm posing this at 1am. Forgive any wonky tenses. Now on ao3!

Title from Something About Us by Daft Punk.

🌒

It took considerable force, but Eddie managed to wedge open the only window in his tiny, shitty apartment with a grunt and a sigh. No matter how much WD-40 he forced into it, the damn thing's determined to stick and squeal. If he didn't know any better Eddie would swear it did this just to annoy him. Stubborn piece of shit. Takes one to know one, he figured.

He let out another sigh. Leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, he flicked his zippo open and lit a smoke, relishing that first warm draw of acridness with his eyes closed. Robin would snark at him about the fact that his lease specified no smoking, but fuck the landlord. He needed this. Eddie tilted his head back and exhaled, watching the smoke curl out and away into the darkened alley between the buildings.

The day had been… hard, to put it lightly. It was the last day of Steve's visit. He'd come to see Eddie, to explore Seattle, for a whole week. Just the two of them. It'd been so good, even if Eddie's backstabbing heart wouldn't stop hoping that the visit would end up as something more. It was stupid, a useless hope. Stubborn.

They'd meandered around Capitol Hill so Eddie could show off the first place he'd ever felt safe enough to be queer and loud about it, unable to look too long at Steve's expression of relieved pride in him. He let Eddie drag him to a few bars, introduced him to some new friends who welcomed him with open arms and pointed, knowing stares in Eddie's direction. They'd walked along the pier, doing the touristy shit, ate greasy fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and watched seals play and beg for food in the harbour.

Hell, Eddie even let Steve drag him up to the Space Needle. It was something Eddie had refused to do when he first moved, not wanting to do something so mundane and cliché when he was trying to become a local. But of course as soon as Steve insisted he folded like wet tissue.

Now Eddie knew he'd be cursed with the image of Steve, his hair windswept, gazing out at the city with wide-eyed wonder at the sparkling sprawl of buildings as the sunset painted him in pink and golden hues.

Eddie didn't even bother looking at the city, the ocean. They couldn't ever compare.

Not for the first time that night, Eddie hung his head and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm, wishing the image would stop fucking tormenting him. He was so fucking hopeless.

Raising his head again, he took another drag and stared up at the moon. Light pollution blotted out everything but the moon and Venus. It was the one thing he missed about Hawkins (that was a lie, always a lie), seeing the stars appear in the deep, dark blue above like all the gods took a needle to the fabric of the sky. Here, Eddie's only two stellar companions danced around each other every night. Sometimes closer, nearly touching it seemed, other times further away, locked in an eternal game of will-they-won't-they.

Tonight he only saw the lonely moon through the gap in the buildings. A waning crescent that shone bright enough that it lit up the darkness of Eddie's silent kitchen with a silvery glow. It was silly, but he held a tiny wish that Venus wouldn't be too far behind so at least Eddie would be the only lonely sad sack tonight. At least the thought made him chuckle at himself slightly.

Seeing Steve off at the airport that morning felt like Eddie was about to rip himself in two. If it weren't so public, if it weren't so risky, he might've confessed to Steve right then and there in some desperate attempt to get him to stay just a few days, hours, seconds longer. He'd dig his own heart out of his chest and offer it up on a silver platter; anything for the man that carried him out of hell. But Eddie was nothing if not a coward. They'd hugged each other tightly, just shy of too long, and Steve waved goodbye with a bittersweet smile and something shining in his eyes.

Eddie'd had to wait an hour in the airport parking lot before he was stable enough to drive back home.

Thing was, he was so fucking lonely out here. He'd moved to get away from the pitchfork-wielding, grudge-carrying people that never bought the government's cover story, to stop the vitriolic graffiti that had kept getting sprayed on Wayne's new trailer. The kids would get caught up in it too if they were caught hanging around The Freak. Eddie couldn't fucking go anywhere without keeping his head on a swivel, and it was so exhausting. He'd needed to leave. Even if it meant having to leave his family, the only people who knew the real story behind his scars and nightmares–even if it meant leaving Steve. So, it was hard, having Steve–a piece of his home, maybe even his heart–come visit and then leave after just a handful of days. Great days, but still.

Choking out a bitter laugh, Eddie scrubbed at the tears starting to trail down his cheeks. Stupid, he was so stupid. His throat closed up around another laugh, turning it into a silent sob, a frustrated growl as he begged his stupid heart to just let it fucking go, to stop hurting, stop tantruming pathetically inside his ribcage about a man he could never have.

Just as another sob threatened to claw its way out of his chest, the phone rang. The shrill sound made him jump, nearly dropping his cigarette out the window. Swearing, he reached and pulled it over, answering.

"H'lo?" he rasped.

"Jesus, Munson, you sound rough," Steve's tinny voice replied, amused, "did I wake you up?"

The tightness in Eddie's chest burst into butterflies and he couldn't help but laugh around a sniffle. "Nah man, I was up. Shouldn't you be asleep, though? Isn't it 3am there or something?"

"Yeah, or something. Just got home though."

"Wait, what? The fuck are you calling me for, then?"

Steve chuckled. Christ, it was a great sound, filtered through endless miles of telephone lines though it was. "You told me to call when I got home safe, remember?"

"After you'd slept or something, dude, jesus christ. You didn't have to call at the ass crack of dawn."

"Well I wanted to."

Eddie mentally started stomping out the fresh butterfly swarm fluttering around in his guts. Unfortunately, he couldn't hold back the smile on his lips, wide enough that he knew Steve could hear it in his voice. So he teased, "Wow, Harrington, it's almost like you miss me or something." There was a pause.

"I do."

Sincerity weighed down Steve's words, two syllables dropping into the well of silence left in their wake. Eddie felt the ripples through his whole body, leaving stillness behind.

"Really?" Eddie whispered. He heard Steve inhale shakily and ached to be beside him again, to have him near, pull him close, feel him again.

"Yeah, Eddie. I miss you so much, it– god, it hurts," Steve said with a tiny, heartbreaking laugh.

"Fuck. I�� same, Steve, I've been bawling my eyes out since this morning." His words were thick with even more tears threatening to spill but he blinked them back.

"I'm sorry."

Eddie snorted, though regretted it immediately and swiped at his nose with his sleeve. "Why're you apologising?"

"Hate knowing you're hurting too."

"Can't be helped, I'm afraid," Eddie sighed, then added quietly, nervously, "not like you could stay."

Speaking just as quietly, Steve said, "Maybe… maybe I could."

"Huh?"

"I've just, I've been thinking," Steve started, gathering steam, "for a while now but also on the flights home. It sucks that you're out there by yourself. And the kids are all graduated and leaving, and Robin and Nancy are planning on moving, and-"

Eddie's unable to help it, interrupting Steve's rambling that he definitely picked up from Robin, but he can't hold it back, hope forcing the words out. "Stevie, are you saying–?"

"UW accepted my application," Steve said. "I could move out there, get my teaching degree."

"Why?"

The question hung in the air, all of Eddie's breathless wishes clinging to it. Steve took a steadying breath on the other end of the line.

"I have feelings for you Eddie. Might be kind of in love with you, and I really don't think it's one-sided. Should've told you at the airport."

"How did you know?"

Chuckling, Steve said, "You're not subtle, but when I said the view from the Space Needle was beautiful, you agreed even though you never took your eyes off me."

"I wanted to tell you," Eddie said in a rush, heart in his throat, "all fucking week. I'm kind of in love with you too."

Steve laughed, full and warm, and Eddie might've collapsed with relief if he weren't leaning on the counter still. "We're idiots, huh?" Steve asked.

"Massive idiots. Complete morons. Absolute buffoons. You're telling me that we could've been kissing all week if one of us had just gotten the balls to confess?"

"Well, maybe more than just kissing." Steve's voice dropped suggestively and Eddie grinned at the bloom of desire that grew in his chest.

"A gentleman never assumes, big boy, but good to know."

A yawn echoed through the phone and the heat Eddie felt morphed into depthless fondness. "You should go sleep, Stevie."

"Probably. Gonna be wrecked for my shift tomorrow." He sighed softly. "Worth it, though."

"Worth having to pry your eyelids open while Marge berates you for letting her kid watch movies her husband rented?"

Steve snorted. "Yeah. Worth packing my bags and running off to the coast, too."

"Christ." Shaking a little, Eddie asked, "Are you sure?"

"Never been more sure of anything." He yawned again, hard enough Eddie could hear the receiver shudder in his hand. "I wanna keep talking to you but I'm dead on my feet. Can I call you tomorrow? Please?"

"You don't have to ask, sweetheart," Eddie said, pouring his fondness into every word to make up for the fact that he couldn't be there to see Steve's gorgeous, sleepy face, to fall into bed with him and wrap him in his arms. "Hell, call me when you wake up, before you go to work. You gotta tell me how your flights went anyway."

"Uhg, right. Ask me about the lady who scoffed at me reading The Hobbit."

He scoffed. "She dares to look down upon one of the great works of literature? I don't know her but she has made a mortal enemy on this day." The tired giggle Eddie heard made him smile so wide it almost hurt.

"You're so dramatic."

"You love it."

With a contented sigh, Steve said, "Yeah, I do." Another yawn, loud this time, and Steve continued, "Good night, Eddie. I'll call tomorrow. I miss you."

"Can't wait. Miss you too, Stevie."

Eddie hung up, the receiver settling in with a click. It felt like his body was made of bubbles, or fireworks. He almost couldn't believe it, that his hopes actually came true. Steve loves him, wants to move to Seattle for him. What!?

He let out a long, loud whoop that echoed in the alleyway. A distant neighbour yelled at him to shut the fuck up, but Eddie couldn't care less. He loved Steve, who loved him back.

Grinning, he looked up at the sky again. The moon had moved on, but there, creeping over the roof of the apartments next door, Venus finally made an appearance. Laye, but still there, still following. A beautiful, shining pinprick of light, trailing in the moon's wake.

Welcome to my new tag list! @steves-strapcollection, @ghost--enthusiast, @inairbinad, @rhaenyyras, @chocolate-fishy, @lovelyscot, @little-trash-ghost

Feel free to ask to be added/taken off!

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #am i projecting my loneliness onto my favourite blorbo? yes. thats what fandom is for #its cathartic or something #and should i have worked on my big bang fic instead? absolutely. fuck.#niko's notes

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miyuuuki · 2 years ago

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Kinda Crazy…

SYNOPSIS: Dating vic was a roller coaster, more-so considering his violent and cunning nature.

PAIRING: Victor Criss/Masc!Reader

WARNINGS: slut shaming, body shaming, misogyny, slightly toxic relationship.

A/N: quite different from usual content, but I still very much love IT. This is kind of loosely based off of Selena Gomez’s Kinda Crazy song. Really trash but hope y’all enjoy loll.

———

You and Vic were a fling, a couple who lasted first semester and barely making it to second.

you did love him, but truly, you couldn’t handle his violence and his behavior.

Even though vic was the “least toughest” or “nicest” member out of all the bowers gang, he was still cruel.

He posed as though he had strong morals, but you knew it all to be untrue.

You’ve noticed how everyone you were once so close to distanced themselves from you, and how anyone who looked at you wrong, always seemed to be hurt.

You’ve even witnessed the countless acts hes done. Burning kids with cigars, jumping people who either wronged you in the past or touched you.

Being misogynistic out of the blue, screaming insults at the losers, especially to both Beverly and Richie.

Calling Beverly, insults such as “skank”, “slut”, “whore”, and many more.

Beating or humiliating Richie, with insults.

You felt as if you couldn’t even touch, speak, or even look at someone without them getting hurt. And you were tired of it, because no matter how much you tried communicating with him, he’d repeat the same empty promise.

“I promise I’ll change, I’ll try.”

So eventually you were fed up and ghosted him, and not too long, broke off the relationship.

By now you still have lingering feelings for him, though barely. At least that’s what you think.

Though you couldn’t say the same for Vic. He’d been calling your phone line, harassing you at school and so on.

And the fact your houses were opposite of each-other, didn’t help at all either.

He could see through your window, and easily visit your house. Though he hadn’t done that, yet.

Right now you were in your bedroom, doing a school project with a classmate.

And it also so happened to be Greta. A girl who slept around, especially with that Patrick guy. It’s rumored they first slept together in 5th or 6th grade.

Greta, was a bitch. No sugarcoating, right now she was barely doing anything. All she had tried to do was you.

“Greta, just go home. I’ll finish the project.”

“If you say so.” She says with a wink before leaving.

You sighed before continuing, you were disturbed by a phone call, once you answered a familiar voice appeared.

“Why did I see Greta fucking Keene coming out of your house?” You heard Vic’s voice.

“What’s it to you?” You said with a annoyed tone.

“Did you do something with that fucking whore!? If so, (name), I’ll fucking kill her! Do you hear me!?” He screamed into the microphone.

“Fucking shit, vic. Do you hear yourself!? You sound like Henry! Fuck off already, it’s been months. Move. On.” You said anger evident in your tone.

irritated, you pulled out the plug of your landline as that wasn’t the only call you received that day.

Though you failed to see Vic watching you through his window.

“Vic? The fuck are you doing here?” Greta said, angered that she was interrupted from harassing beverly.

“What did you and (name) do the other day at his house?” He asked with a shallow tone.

“What’s it to you?” She said.

“What did you do, Greta.” He demanded.

“Why the fuck do you need to know? Don’t tell me you’re still not over him. It’d be pathetic if it’s true.” Greta said laughing.

“Did your whore ass sleep with him!? if so I can gut you like a fucking fish right now.” Reaching into his pocket to hold the switchblade he stole from Henry, though not yet showing it.

“If I said yes?” Greta said with a laugh.

“I’ll make you regret even looking in his direction.” Vic said, grabbing Greta’s hair with a tight grip while grabbing the switch blade.

“Hey!! L-let me go! What the fuck are you trying to do!!?” She screamed.

“Teaching you a fucking lesson, goddamn whore.” Vic responded.

Here you were, in history class watching everyone present, one thing you noticed was Greta not being fucking present.

‘Where the fuck is this bitch, I didn’t fucking write shit for her to read off of just so she can be fucking absent.’ you bitched in your head.

You rose your hand, and asked to go to the bathroom. The teacher agreed so you went out.

“Is she skipping..?” you mumbled wondering.

she said she’d be here today, now where the fuck is she.

You went into the bathroom and was about to go in a stall before someone grabbed the jacket you were wearing and slammed you into the wall.

“What the fuck-! Vic!? You’ve got to be kidding me..” You said, already annoyed.

“Tell me. What did you and Greta do!?” He said.

“Why the fuck do you need to know, leave it alone Vic.” You responded.

“Fine then. You made it easier for me.” Vic said before walking out.

“Easier, how!? Vic!” You said confused.

You thought wondering what he could mean by that.

‘Holy shit.’ You thought before running out after him.

———

TAGLIST:

@akiraackerman19 @lizzhearthz @call-me-nev

#yandere #male reader #it 2017 #bowers gang x reader #bowers gang #it 2017 x reader #it x reader #it x male reader #vic criss x reader #vic criss #victor criss #victor criss x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #• ★ miyuuuki sfw #• ☆ miyuuuki works

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clumsy-jiminie · 6 months ago

Text

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

❝ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ꜰʟᴀᴍᴇꜱ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.7k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, questionable yoga poses, sexual fantasying, intimacy

↣ notes :: :) surprise :) the amount of sexual tension in this chapter makes me wanna smush their faces together and yell KISS ALREADY also JIN IS BACK JIN IS HOME WORLD WIDE HANDSOME HAS RETURNED 🥳 I was so happy to see our king of chaos return and spend some time with the rest of the boys!

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"you're watching, I feel it. I know I shouldn't stare. I picture your hands on me. I think I wanna let it happen."

-liar, camilla cabello-

Amber eyes met with chocolate irises. After staring at each other with a widened gaze of disbelief, both pairs respectfully narrowed at each other.

You've got to be fucking kidding me.

Kiara dropped whatever stretch she was about to do, turning to face the blonde man who seemed equally, if not more, annoyed than the girl.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" She whispered harshly so she wouldn't cause a scene.

Jimin couldn't help but tilt his head to the side curiously, switching arms to stretch the other one out. "I thought it was pretty obvious."

Her eyes burned a hole into him. "No shit! I meant here, at this studio, when there are hundreds, if not thousands, of other ones!"

The man shrugged, "This one was in the area. Technically, I should be asking you what you're doing here. Aren't you supposed to be in Long Island?"

Kiara opened her mouth and prepared for a slick response, but the words died on her tongue. He had a point, but she wouldn't let him know. All she wanted was to relax; with everything else going on in her life, this was the one place guaranteed to provide some tranquillity. But now that was tainted by the blonde's mere existence.

It was like the universe was playing some sick joke on the woman, interweaving her life with someone as insufferable as him. Her existence became a reality TV show for the gods above and below, making Kiara and Jimin the main characters.

"What happened to your hair?" Jimin asked suddenly, filling the air of silence that grew between them. He had only checked out the woman because her hair caught his attention. So curly, wild, and free—he liked it, but it was Kiara's, so he couldn't. No matter how much he wanted to pull on her curls strand by strand to watch them recoil back to the loose spring. Plus, Kiara had straight hair—she always had straight hair—she couldn't just suddenly change it on him.

"Fuck off," she quipped while she placed her hands on her hips for a moment. Kiara didn't wear her hair curly for this exact reason; someone always had something to say about it. Whether it was white women and children reaching out to touch it without her permission, black men insisting she was anything other than black when trying to talk to her, and random Hispanic people speaking straight Spanish to her as if she understood. Kiara didn't like the attention it brought her. That's why she kept it straight. The only thing people would do was compliment her hair. The less attention, the better.

She inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to find the calmness she once had before Park Jimin had entered. If she couldn't, she would hightail it out of here and back to Little Latte to give Jeongguk an earful. She knew she should've stayed at his place and made his bed into a lovely, comfy depression nest. An overwhelming feeling sat in her gut as soon as Jeongguk mentioned the outside world.

"Was it on purpose? Like you meant to walk outside like that?" Jimin started to lean side to side casually, hiding the smirk that desperately wanted to form on his lips.

Kiara glared at the blonde, her fiery gaze meeting his playful one. So he thinks this is a joke? "Fuck you and ya motha."

"Oooh," Jimin chuckled, hiding his attraction to her accent. It was the first time he heard it so prominently. Did she know she had a voice that deserved to be in porn? He could listen to just her speaking with no direction at all and get off. "Insulting people's mother's now? Someone's a little feisty."

"You're right," she stepped off her mat and bent over, beginning to roll it up. Jimin's eyes lingered over the woman for more than what was appropriate. "Your mother is probably a wonderful lady. I bet she tried everything for you not to grow up a pretentious asshole, but unfortunately," she grabbed her mat and water bottle, "some thing's can't be helped."

Jimin's upper lip twitched, threatening to curl from the bold assumption that his mother was anything excellent. He should’ve told her off—let her know just how painfully wrong she was—but that little smirk playing on her lips stole the words from his tongue. All he could do was sigh deeply, exhaling all the words he wanted to say as he stared into those eyes of gold that threatened him as much as his own. Just as she stepped away from him, assuming the woman was going to leave so they both could have peace, a door opened. The duo turned their head towards the noise that interrupted their tension.

"Good morning, my blessed rays of sunshine and daring rainbows!" A short girl with wavy dark brown hair walked in, followed by a tall man with deep skin. With the amount of pep in her step, one would think she was skipping. She made her way to the front of the room, standing before the mirror on top of a mat. The woman was very petite, standing at 4'10 at most. In contrast, the man beside her had to be at least 6 feet tall. It was an odd couple, but Kiara didn't care as much as she wondered why there were two instructors instead of one.

The woman smiled brightly at the room as the chatting people from earlier slowly started to join the center. "It's an honor to have you join us for this couples class."

The duo's eyes widened with disbelief before releasing an aspirated sigh. "Ah, shit," they mumbled as they looked around the room. Everyone had a partner beside them, leaving them as the only pair.

"Today's class is designed for you and your partner to sync until you are one."

Kiara quickly raised her hand, promptly grabbing the instructors' attention. They nodded towards her, prompting her to speak. "What if you don't have a partner?"

The room erupted in tiny giggles like she said a joke, but Kiara's face remained unchanged. She stared at the two instructors, jaw clenched with an unamused expression spread amongst her features. She folded her arms over her chest, waiting for whatever response the two would conjure up.

"Oh, you were serious?" The man asked before Kiara nodded. He pursed his lips briefly before his eyes landed on the man beside her. Jimin looked at Kiara, wondering where she expected this route to lead her. It was only until the overwhelming feeling of someone staring at you that he pulled his gaze away from the girl and looked at the male instructor. "Do you have a partner?"

The blonde's eyes went wide before he cleared his throat. "Well, no, but—"

"Ah! So problem solved!" The male grinned before looking off at the rest of the class.

"No!" Kiara's voice pipped up before the female instructor could speak. "Problem not solved! Problem far from solved!"

"You're welcome to walk out," the short woman stated. She stared at the other woman, her warm blue eyes freezing over suddenly. That didn't stop Kiara from bending over again, preparing to gather her things until the woman's voice cut through the air. "But we don't offer refunds here."

Kiara stopped and froze, debating for a moment before slowly standing up. She had to dip into her savings fund to pay for this class, and she didn't want to waste money she shouldn't have been spending in the first place. Her shoulders dropped in defeat as she realized she was not only going to be stuck in the same room with Park Jimin, sober, for a whole hour, but now she was also to be his partner.

"Problem solved?" The female instructor asked with a tone of impatience lingering behind her words. Kiara nodded silently. The woman's eyes then traveled to Jimin, who met her gaze with a glare. She raised a questioning brow, tempting him to take a chance and try her also. And Jimin would've. He didn't need the money, nor cared so much for the class. He could've left, found another class at a neighboring yoga studio, and pretended he never ran into Ms. Kiara. But that was the issue. All it took was one glance at the woman who seemed to shrink into herself from embarrassment.

Jimin tilted his head back as he shut his eyes, letting out a small sigh of defeat. He placed his hands on his hips, gathering all the positive energy lingering in his system. He looked at the instructor once more, offering her his charming smile. "Problem solved."

The instructors seemed pleased, going on to resume their introduction to the class. Kiara found herself slowly shuffling towards Jimin. She leaned in subtly towards him. "Just so you know," she whispered, "I'm going to hate every second of this."

Jimin stifled back a dry scoff. "Likewise."

After the introduction, the instructors started the class with a simple breathing exercise. They demonstrated the position, causing Kiara's eyes to widen before she glanced at the blonde man beside her, who did not react. Soon, everyone, including Jimin and Kiara, got onto their mats and copied their position.

Kiara stared at Jimin while he avoided her gaze completely before cautiously sliding into his lap. The instructor pulled the shades on the window down, blocking out the natural sunlight before dimming the fluorescent lights. Speakers quietly played calm notes of guitar strings plucking and wind instruments. Despite the elements around them, the duo was anything but relaxed. Kiara tensed at the feeling of Jimin's hands on her back while hers wrapped around his neck loosely. Jimin tried to steady his breathing, praying that she couldn't feel how fast his heart was beating. They don't like each other; they haven't liked each other for months, so why did he need to feel close to her?

Kiara inhaled deeply, letting her eyes shut as her breathing began to sync with Jimin's. It was fast at first and slightly concerning until her fingers absentmindedly found the little hairs on his nape. He seemed to relax at the feeling of her fingertips stroking his hair. For the first time today, Kiara felt some sort of peace.

She wanted to pretend it was Taehyung's arms wrapped around her. She wanted to pretend it was his hands gently rubbing against her cool skin, warming her. She wanted to pretend it was his incredibly addictive scent she was breathing in. The sweet smell of citrus and pineapple colliding with a slight spice of black pepper and juniper berries with a heavy hint of vanilla lingering in the background was comforting. Disrespectfully intoxicating. Soothing. She wanted to pretend, but she couldn't.

All of his qualities were opposite of Jimin's.

Taehyung was naturally rougher and more dominating. Slow moments like this didn't come often, and if they did, it would always end with a hand on her ass or boob, groping her and telling her how horny he is. Sometimes, she just wanted to be held, to feel skin against hers in the most innocent ways. She didn't want her body to only be touched for someone else's pleasure.

Her boyfriend also smelled like a teenager who put on too much axe body spray. Kiara preferred something sweeter, more inviting, and easier on the nose, while Taehyung wanted people to smell him before he entered the room. His colognes contained more notes of cedar woods, bergamot, and various citruses—powerful and entirely too much for Kiara. Maybe that's why she found herself snuggling closer to Jimin, her nose pressing against the crook of his neck, causing the area to tense from her simple touch.

"Someone's close," Jimin whispered lowly, causing a pleasant chill to run down her spine. She didn't know his voice could get deeper, and it was a dangerous ability for him to have. His silk voice was already soothing on the ears, but this made it far more enjoyable.

"That's the whole point of the exercise," she mumbled, subconsciously pushing her body against his.

Jimin inhaled sharply, her curls tickling the tip of his nose. He couldn't slow his heart. He couldn't stop his mind, not while she was this close to him. All he could think about was how divine she smelled—a delicate mix of berries with hints of whipped vanilla. Sweetness seemed to be her signature, which he didn't mind. He just ran his fingers up and down her spine, instinctively pulling her closer by her hips. The woman couldn't help the gasp that escaped from her lips as her fingertips gripped his black shirt.

Kiara shouldn't be enjoying this. It was wrong on so many levels. Still, she couldn't help but let her eyes flutter close as she melted into his embrace. She imagined a world where the events leading to their distaste for each other didn't occur. A world where Jimin met her before Taehyung. A world where his gentle touch was normalized, yet still made goosebumps arise on her skin as if it was foreign.

The instructor's voice cut through their moment of peace, placing them back in the reality where they disliked each other. Their separation was slow, almost as if their bodies were rejecting the idea of it. Kiara's eyes met Jimin's briefly before she slid onto the floor and to the space beside him.

The class continued with some regular solo poses before another couple exercise. Kiara sighed deeply, dreading the moment she had to feel Jimin's hands against her skin. This is what she should be feeling, right? Then why did it feel forced?

The class watched as the male instructor demonstrated the pose. It was relatively easy, like the first one, yet Kiara's face flushed with heat. This class was truly meant for couples. She wondered if Taehyung would be interested in attending one with her, but she already knew his answer would be no. The activity was too boring, and with the closeness he would convince them to ditch and never return.

"You nervous or something?" Jimin whispered, sounding almost genuine as he pulled her from her thoughts.

"No!" She snapped at him quietly.

His brows furrowed as he gestured towards the space in front of him. "Then get in position." His tone matched hers without a second thought.

The woman glared at him despite being the one to start the trouble. Regardless, she did as she was told and stood before him. Sweat began to form in the palms of her hands as she felt his hand rest on her hip. She took a deep breath, slowly bending forward as the hand resting in the middle of her back guided her. She grasped her toes between her fingers while keeping her knees straight, causing the back of her legs to stretch. Typically, this was a very relaxing pose, and she usually would've gone a step further and wrapped her arms around her calves, almost pulling her head between her legs. Jimin's presence was a distraction—too significant not to notice—stopping her from stretching further. He wasn't doing much, but his hands gently persuaded her to continue the stretch by applying light pressure on her back while her other hand firmly kept her in place to ensure she didn't lose balance. It caused her face to flush, the feeling of his hands so gentle yet so commanding.

Curiosity flooded Kiara's mind briefly, leading her to glance at the mirror before them. And god, she wished she hadn't. It was enough that she found Jimin attractive—you'd have to be blind to say he wasn't—but with his dark eyes peering over her frame as he stood directly behind her and his brows somewhat furrowed with his head tilted to the side a bit, Kiara was surprised she didn't turn bright red at the sight. Her mind strolled to a dark area, wondering if this were the picture an onlooker would see if he was fucking her from behind. Her heart pounded against her ribcage as she quickly looked away. She cursed at herself softly, knowing that specific scene would plague her thoughts for the next few nights.

Jimin inhaled deeply, trying to convince himself to remain calm. She was such a sight to see already, but bent over? It took every ounce of concentration he had not to allow blood to run opposite from his head. Despite wanting to fill the gap between them and press his hips against the woman, he stayed frozen in place. You know better, rang through his head like a mantra. Curse this class for being so sexually charged, as if couples couldn't also mean a pair of friends who like yoga as well. It felt as if the instructors were punishing the duo for speaking up against them. Although, he was pleasantly surprised with how flexible the woman was. He prayed for the moment when the instructors called for a new position, not wanting to deal with this level of torture any longer. And when they finally did, he only removed his hand from her back, allowing her to return to an upright position slowly. He watched Kiara through lowered lids. Why did it seem as if everything she did was purposely seductive? It was like the girl had lust running through her system, expressed through the way she moved and spoke. Jimin didn't back off until he got a face full of her sweet fragrance.

Kiara swiftly returned to her mat. She unzipped her hoodie, feeling as if the area just went up 20 degrees. The woman rid herself of the black fabric, leaving her in a cropped white camisole. She used her hand to fan herself, hoping that the lack of clothing and the cool air would allow her face to return to its usual shade. Jimin glanced at the girl, subtly doing a double take as her chest barely moved up and down to accommodate her breathing. He stared ahead, cursing himself mentally, as he felt he was just about to lose the fight between his head and dick. He made it through having the woman sit in his lap and bent over directly in front of him, but her standing in a camisole was what would do him in?

Fuck, he thought to himself as the instructors started to talk. Hopefully, the shrill voice of the fake-peppy woman could stop him at a chub so he could avoid the embarrassment. The sweatpants he decided to put on weren't necessarily boner-proof. Her curves were so noticeable, so divine, blessed by Aphrodite herself. He totally understood why Taehyung was drawn to her, but how he put up with her slick tongue every day during their relationship was beyond him.

The class resumed its regular poses once again, giving Jimin a break as he focused on his posture. Kiara couldn't help but glance at him now and again. The regular poses had them remain close, causing their limbs to brush each other occasionally. The slight touch was more than enough to cause goosebumps to rise on either party's skin. Almost touching each other should've burned. It should've made them recoil strongly like the heat of a nearing fire. Stolen glances between the two should've created flames fueled by disdain for the other.

But it didn't. For the first time since that fateful night when everything went to shit, they were coexisting. Neither decided to question it; instead, they just lived in the moment, considering it would be the last.

The instructors demonstrated another pose, prompting the duo and the rest of the class to follow. This one didn't seem as sexually charged. Jimin sat on the mat with his legs wide open, allowing Kiara to place herself between them. She leaned back into him, resting her head on the upper portion of his chest. The curly-haired woman tried her hardest to relax against him, knowing that this particular stretch could end with her pulling a very uncomfortable area if Kiara wasn't careful. She let her eyes flutter shut as she tilted her chin toward the ceiling. Her hands rested comfortably on Jimin as if this was just an everyday thing with him—like being comfortable with him was normal.

Jimin was utterly focused. Having Kiara this close to him again could cause some trouble for him. He had already proved to himself that his mind could go to that place easily regarding the woman. The blonde wished he could blame it on the lack of pleasurable activities, but that would be a lie. As Kiara sunk into him, her curls tickling the side of his neck, he reached forward to grab her ankles. He lifted her legs into the air, slowly but surely pulling her limbs to either side of her. Jimin's brows furrowed as he continued to pull farther than he expected her to handle. She let out a soft hum, sounding pleasant to the ears.

Jimin inhaled deeply. He had the girl spread eagle in his lap, pulling her legs back until the side of her head. He averted his eyes, looking anywhere besides the place where any other guy would gaze. He even caught the male instructor staring in her direction for too a little long. The blonde instantly narrowed his eyes at the other, jaw set and tongue ready to slit his throat if the gaze proceeded. Luckily, the man was smart. He was instantly unsettled by his gaze, looking elsewhere while pretending to help another couple. Jimin couldn't help but roll his eyes, lip curling at the thought of him possibly checking out another woman while seemingly in a relationship. Though it was an assumption, Jimin could usually tell taken men from single. The former seemed to move more cautiously or didn't care for anything else around them. The latter always had a wandering eye, interacting with the world's opportunities of the beauties bestowed on him.

Kiara opened her eyes, meeting with the ceiling before looking ahead. The way Jimin had pulled her legs, stretching her abductors pleasantly, felt amazing. She looked at their reflection, gazing at his surprisingly strong arms. Her mind traveled to a darker place where they sat in a similar position, in front of a mirror in the privacy of her home, with a lot less clothing. Kiara was so caught up in her imagination—something she definitely shouldn't be indulging in considering the state of her relationship status—that she didn't notice Jimin's gaze slowly fall upon her, their eyes meeting in the mirror once again. She seemed in a daze to him; eyes glazed over with developing lust. He only wished to get a peek inside of that mind of hers.

When she finally came to, noticing how her eyes locked with his, she glared at him and quickly averted his gaze. Her face flushed with heat, a tedious habit when it came to this man. Kiara hoped he wouldn't see the embarrassment hiding in her rose-stained cheeks, but Jimin only chuckled at the sight, and she was unsure if that infuriated her or granted her relief. She wasn't allowed to ponder her feelings as the instructors commenced wind down, consisting of the duo separating and laying next to each other on their mats. They were only a few inches apart. Jimin's finger twitched, craving an action he knew he very well shouldn't. An hour of grasping her soft skin in his hands should've sufficed him. Yet he was greedy, wanting more of her than they both knew she could give.

Kiara stared up at the dimmed, round light fixtures that hung from the ceiling until little flashes of color invaded her line of vision. She let out a deep sigh, letting her eyes shut. Her mind was a tsunami of thoughts when it was supposed to be a calm lake. Three men crashed like tidal waves on her beach of sanity, when she hoped this class would get rid of them only for a second. She didn't want to think about her annoying boyfriend, her best friend whose eyes seemed to cover hidden feelings or the blonde whose looks should match his ugly personality to make things easier on her. She attempted to drown them with silence—push them so below the surface that it would take days for them to reach the top of the wave again.

The room became brighter as the fluorescent lights turned on, and the instructors raised the shades to let in natural lightning. Kiara heard the other occupants get up and retrieve their stuff, but she remained glued to the floor beneath her. It wasn't enough time. This class achieved the opposite of why she attended. She still felt tense, and on edge, waiting for someone to push her over.

"Well, that wasn't a total nightmare," said a voice above her. The smug tone wrapped around his words dropped like acid onto the girl's face. Opening one eye, she was graced by the image of Jimin slightly bent over, hands in his pockets, with golden hair loosely spreading out and around him like rays of the sun.

"Says who?" Kiara scoffed as she sat up, a cloud blocking his rays. Most of the class had packed their stuff, leaving a few chatty stragglers beside the duo. She gathered her things before standing up and looking at the blonde. Looking up at him, she never noticed how much she needed to tilt her head back. Why did he look like he was glowing under the fluorescent lighting? His honey-glazed skin was smooth and supple, with the faintest freckles on his cheeks.

"Considering the fact that we've survived an hour of pretending we could tolerate being close to each other, let alone touching each other, I'll take that as a win," Jimin smirked while folding his arms over his chest.

"Fucking perv," Kiara grumbled. "You liked putting your grimy little fingers on me, didn't you?"

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I saw your face."

Kiara's eyes went wide for a moment before she unknowingly mirrored Jimin's stance by folding her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight to one foot. "I have not the slightest idea of what you're talking about."

The blonde couldn't help but smile as he watched her lips form into a subtle pout, her chin tilting upwards as she tried her hardest to appear snobby. Too bad she couldn't sell it. All she managed to do was look cute. "Yeah, OK, Kiara. Whatever will help you sleep better at night."

"Of course, you would think about how I sleep." Kiara quipped. She didn't know why she always dragged out conversations with Jimin. All she had to do was ignore him and walk away, but something about his little jabs made her want to fight.

Jimin let out a loud scoff. "Don't flatter yourself. You live far from my thoughts at night."

Kiara's brows furrowed, not understanding why that comment would leave her with an uncomfortable pit in her stomach instead of swelling with relief. "Yeah OK." She bent over to pack up her equipment, knowing Jimin's eyes were gazing upon her. She slowly stood up again, regaining control of the situation. She could see how Jimin's eyelids had lowered, plump lips ever so slightly agape as if he was trying to breathe out the lingering desire in his system. "So we're just gonna pretend like you weren't just staring at me, right?"

Jimin's face suddenly twitched, like he was snapping himself back to reality. Heat followed afterward, flushing his skin with a pretty pink. Kiara giggled softly, causing his lips to tug into a small smile despite the embarrassment swimming through him. How the woman managed to shut him up, not once, but twice now, was beyond him. Jimin was the king of clapbacks. There wasn't a soul that could escape his wicked tongue until he met the beautiful girl with wild hair and a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights. He could only sigh, feigning annoyance though he was rather impressed.

"You really think I was staring at you?"

"I know it."

Jimin didn't bother testing his luck again. Something about her threw him off his game, which was not his proudest moment. The blonde couldn't do much but watched as she swayed her hips, strolling towards the door until she stopped suddenly.

"Guess you'll have something to think about at night now," Kiara said just as she walked out of the room. Jimin's jaw fell slightly before he collected himself, scoffing quietly. A part of him was tempted to follow after, to continue the banter they had fallen into.

But he knew better than that.

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

Text

First Base.

rating: 18+

pairing: max phillips x f!reader

word count: 5212

summary: you agree to his every precaution. he's not going to kill you, just bite you, a little bit. You hope a lot.

warnings/tags: making out, talking in bed while half-naked, max comes with his own warning, blood but only a lil, the discovery of a new vampire ability (this is so self indulgent), established friends with benefits situation but not a relationship, #pedrostories1k, @pedrostories

a/n: i've only got two parts written. lemme know if you'd like more!

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The instant he heard the term, Max was obsessed. He’d whisper it in your ear in the hallways. He’d growl it into your throat as he split you open on his mattress, fingers wrapped like iron around your wrists – those were times he had to be especially careful. He’d leave notes addressed to you at your desk, or in the apartment kitchen, with it written across the top. He’d even occasionally put “my” before it. Hell, it was your name in his phone’s contacts.

Monsterfucker.

Monster. Fucker.

Monsterfucker.

His little monsterfucker.

My monsterfucker.

Does my monsterfucker like that?

You’re being so good for me, little monsterfucker.

I’m gonna come on your chest now, you monsterfucker.

Was it an unhealthy nickname that he said far too often around the office and dangerously close to your coworkers? Yes. Did you regret showing him that tweet and explaining what it meant? Absolutely not. Because you were. His. And a monsterfucker.

Unfortunately, outside the truly staggering stamina he displayed, an occasional nip at the kitchen counter after a particularly long bout of mind-blowing sex, and a flash of a toe-curlingly long tongue he gave you only after you’d begged for it for hours at a time . . . Max was often more an annoying, smug fucker than a monster to fuck. Which is to say, the fangs rarely made an appearance. Only recently had he started leaving bags of blood in your apartment’s refrigerator and even those were wrapped up in special bags that prevented freezer burn, as if to say, nothing special here. He still wouldn’t eat in front of you, always more eager to pick up dinner and watch you eat, as if the memory of human food alone would satiate him.

He resolutely hadn’t let his fangs out anywhere near the bedroom.

And that monsterfucker in you was finally starting to be annoyed by it. You’d done everything you could think of, short of drawing a bullseye around your jugular vein. For being a vampire with enhanced peripheral senses, he really couldn’t quite take a hint.

“Max?”

“Hmm.”

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure, baby, what is it?”

“I want you to bite me during sex.”

His fingers pause in their path along the curve of your waist, over the knots in your spine. You face away from him, having just woken up, and you hope that by posing this question so early in the morning and so bluntly, it might unsettle him enough to at least consider it. His hand hovers just above your ribs, before sliding forward into the soft skin between your bones, and he chuckles.

“No.”

You scowl and sit up, glaring down at him over your shoulder. Shit, maybe asking him first thing in the morning was a bad idea. Hair perfectly tousled in a deadly combination of post-sex and sleepy morning bedhead, Max grins up at you, his right arm tucked up behind his head, giving you a full display of his solid biceps and carved chest. You’d never seen him once lift anything heavier than a stapler. Well, except for the one time he picked up your couch with one hand because your earring had rolled underneath it.

And whoever said vampires don’t sleep was only partially correct. Max didn’t sleep, he went unconscious. Trying to wake him up before he was ready was like trying to crack open a boulder with a rubber hammer.

You twist your mouth down to perhaps look more serious than you actually are to hide your recklessly ogling. But the instant he sees your naked torso and your tits he is the one staring shamelessly.

“Why not? We’ve been dating for almost a year now and you hardly even let me see your fangs, much less feel them.”

“I bit you last week on the couch when we watched that one movie.”

“You bit me to scare me and didn’t even break the skin.”

Max’s eyebrow jumped. Arching slightly, he settles deeper into the pillows, a small smirk dripping across his lips. His hand skims up your knee, over your thigh, his intention very clear.

“And you want me to break your skin, baby?” He purrs.

“Max, stop. I’m serious.”

“What were we talking about?”

“Max!” You toss his hand off your thigh and he chuckles again, far too pleased with himself. With a big sigh, he stretches, long arms spearing through the slats in your headboard, toes curling under the sheets, before dropping his hands over his stomach, shivering. He reminded you so much of a cat sometimes, it was sinful. You wouldn’t be surprised if one day you blinked up at him and his eyes were yellow.

The sheets are frightfully low on his slim hips.

“Baby, look, that kind of shit is dangerous. It’s not that I don’t want you to see that side of me – you’re welcome to look as much as you want –,” he lifts his hands as if to demonstrate his own personal work of art, “but it’s not a joke. It’s called bloodlust for a reason. I’ve worked hard to control it, it’s not always that simple.”

Softly, he drags his fingernails over your knee, more affectionate than sultry.

“And despite my cool and aloof exterior, I would be pretty bummed if anything ever happened to you.” That easy, devil-may-care smile fades from his face and his wide palm flattens across your knee. When he looks up at you, his eyes are soft, concerned. You rarely get Max’s vulnerable side and when you do, it makes you immediately go gooey on the inside. “Especially if it was me who hurt you.”

You sigh and thread your fingers through his. “And that’s exactly my point, Max. I know you would never hurt me. This is about trust as much as it is about the . . . bloodlust, or whatever. I feel safe with you. Safe enough to try this.”

Together, the two of you had tried pretty much every other kink, toy, or play out there and to you, this was no different. Double penetration would take on a new meaning. You didn’t let yourself even consider triple. One thing at a time.

Max’s thumb rubs thoughtfully over the meat of your hand. “We’d have to work up to it, if we’re going to do this. Make sure I remain in control.”

Your heart picks up speed. “Yes, of course. Same rules as always.”

Max pouts.

“But I’ve been wanting to change our safe word for a while now.”

You bring your knotted hands up to your lips and gently kiss every one of his knuckles. “If we do this, you can pick our next safe word.”

Quick as you can, you slip the nail of his thumb into your mouth and nip him just a bit. His eyes go dark.

“That’s cheating. You’re manipulating me.”

“Just helping my case along. But what were you saying about working up to it?” You can tell he’s losing focus, that it’s only a matter of minutes before he pulls you into his lap, but this is when he’s most pliable. He had the manic attention span of a dog tempted with a squeaky toy. You kiss the back of his wrist. “Max, c’mon.”

“We’d have to start slow. I’m talking high school, baby leagues. Making out. Light petting, then maybe heavy petting.”

You shift closer to him, breaking your hands apart as you put an arm over his chest to the other side of the mattress. Instinctively, his hand slides up your inner thigh. His gaze watches your breasts as they swing in movement.

“Damnit Janet . . . but okay, then we’ll go through the bases.”

“Mhmm hmm . . .”

You brush his hair back from his forehead and he puts both hands on your hips. You have seconds now. “So, we start with first, go up to second, which is under the clothes stuff. Then third. Oral. But that’s for both of us, right?”

His thumb traces your nipple. “Totally.”

“So that just leaves home plate, right, baby? That’s it then.”

You’ve got your hand around his cock and you stroke once. His mouth parts and his eyes flutter. “What’s it?”

You laugh out your nose.

“You’re impossible, Max Phillips.”

First Base.

“Is this entirely necessary?”

“I’d prefer you in a snowsuit or nun’s habit, but this will have to do.”

“At this point, I’ll take the Bugs Bunny onesie you wore for Halloween.”

Max smirks, lighting the last candle in your bedroom. He shakes out the match until it smokes and he turns back to you. You’re pouting in the middle of the bed.

“I’m gonna sweat my tits off in all of this.”

As part of his rules, he made you put on thick woolen socks under your straight-legged jeans. In addition to a black bodysuit as the base, he told you to wear:

A long sleeved turtle neck

A sweatshirt

A jean jacket

And a scarf

His aim was to minimize any open and available skin except the bits you intended to use or for him to bite, but the scarf you refused. It was the middle of summer for god’s sake!

But in the end, he had agreed. He was going to bite you during sex so if you had to roll around naked in a giant bubble for two weeks to get to that, you were more than willing to forgo some comforts. In addition to all but wrapping you up in a burlap sack, Max also insisted on a few extra precautions.

The first one being that a chain of silver is within reach, next to the bed. Max drained a bag of blood about thirty minutes ago so the hunger wasn’t all consuming. A box of Chips Ahoy cookies sat on your dresser for afterwards, along with a bottle of Gatorade, a brown bottle of disinfectant, a bag of cotton balls, and some bandaids.

“Are we making out or am I donating blood?” you teased.

But Max only shrugged. “A bit of both, actually.”

He also laid out an enormous white towel on your bed. You’d offered to do this in his apartment, but he wanted you as comfortable as possible, to which you frowned.

“You weren’t anywhere near this nice to me when we did anal for the first time.”

He hadn’t even dignified that with a real response but just a swat on your ass.

But, to your enormous surprise, Max Phillips was a romantic at heart. The candles were to set the mood.

“Plus,” he says as he crawls onto the bed with you, “it’s very gothic, isn’t it?”

“What, porking by candlelight?”

He rolls his eyes and swoops in to kiss you on the mouth.

“No, you little slut. Biting you. Feeding on you. So very Dracula.” He playfully raises an eyebrow.

“Like you ever once picked up the Bram Stoker novel.” You blink owlishly at him. “In fact, I didn’t know you could read.”

He wrinkles his nose at you and pinches your cheek.

“Of course, I didn’t read it, but I did see the Coppola film strictly for Winona Ryder. What a babe.”

“Would you make her wear five layers of clothing in the dead heat of summer?”

“Nah, I’d just eat her outright.” Max snaps his teeth just under your jaw. He is only playing, but it sends a shiver down your spine. He chuckles at your reaction.

“It’s too easy, baby. Sometimes I think you only like me for my fangs.”

You bite your lip in thought, as you lean forward, draping your arms over his shoulders. His hands cup your waist.

“Well, not only. The Jag’s a nice perk too.”

You bend your head to kiss him again, but he draws back, his hand against your cheek, gently stopping you. His dark eyes are serious. In the candlelight, they look almost gold. Despite the almost stern expression, you see something else, but you so rarely see it on him, you aren’t sure you recognize it at all. Fear. Max is genuinely fearful he was going to hurt you.

“What are the rules again?”

“Use the silver if and only if you don’t stop when I use the safeword.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere as long as it touches your skin.” Your stomach knots. You know it would hurt him, burn him, and you can’t imagine doing that. But he wants you to have that kind of power over him.

“Keep going.”

You huff, knowing exactly what he’s after, that verbal confirmation. That agreement on your end as much as his.

“We’re only going to make out. No groping, licking, or grinding.”

“That’s right, missy, and you better be home by nine.”

You bend over and tug his ear lightly with your teeth. But that same sincere look is on his face when you settle back again. He taps your chin with his thumb, eyes watching your lips.

“What else?”

“After you bite me, if I start to feel dizzy or lightheaded, I also say the safe word immediately.

Max nods, his thumb moving to anxiously skim against your cheek. “I’ll be taking less than what you’d donate to any blood drive, but it might be faster than you’re used to, so I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

His gaze searches your face as if you are about to crack and crumble under him. The mere suggestion that the boardroom-schmoozing, bad-boy-batman, bloodsucking bastard Max Phillips is this apprehensive over a little bite is almost mesmerizing to you. He’s never been one to handle you delicately and this is the first and only time you’ve seen him so ill-at-ease.

“Baby, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You scratch your nails into his hair just above his neck, a place that usually has him oozing into relaxation, but not this time.

He frowns.

“No, I want to. I really, really want to. It’s just . . .” He swallows, further separating you from him and only letting his hands touch your knees. He seems to be on the verge of something and he can’t quite look you in the eyes. “It’s just . . . it can be harder to control it, for a vampire, when they have a connection with the person they’re feeding from.”

You huff. “Max, of course, we have a connection. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been dating for months now and –,”

“An emotional connection.” If he could blush properly, he would. “A deep emotional connection.”

“Oh.”

Is he really saying what you think he’s saying? And he’s telling you now?

Sometimes it’s rather shocking. That an immortal creature of the night can have the emotional intelligence of a six year old.

With a gentle sigh, you inch towards him and hitch your leg across his thighs. His eyes widen momentarily before you sit down on his lap. You card your fingers through his hair. His hands hover just over your hips.

“Do you trust me?”

He nods without hesitation.

“Well, I trust you too. Quite literally with my life. This is just the first step, Max. But it can be the only step if it’s too much. I won’t bring it up ever again, I promise. You’re not alone in this.”

It’s like your words are a balm to a sunburn. He nods again, closing his eyes.

He goes up to your neck with his hand, but waits for you to initiate. Your heart threatening your throat with swelling emotion, you fold over him and gently, with care, press your lips to his.

The hand at your neck pulls you in closer and you turn your head to deepen the kiss.

It stays like that for a minute. Your hands just resting on his shoulders, his fingers cradling the back of your head, and the other hand sitting contently on your knee. The kisses are almost innocent in their sweetness, curious, as if you’ve really never touched each other before. They smack of puppy love and cotton candy and necking under the bleachers. They’re lettermen jackets and prom-posals. Carving names in trees and promising forever with cheap rings in the shape of hearts and hands.

But sweet is not what you came here for.

At the first nip of your teeth, his mouth parts instantly, and all but sucks your tongue against his. You take him in long, rich, wet swipes, tasting the heat gathered in the cup of his mouth, in the muscle of his tongue. You think you taste the faintest hint of copper and you do your best not to shiver under his palms. You remind yourself to not let your tongue go searching for sharper things.

Your hips hitch forward and down, off your knees and into his lap. You’re already warm and despite the layers, you know he can feel it. He groans, air rushing out his nose, the hand in your hair tightens down, and his arm curls up against your lower back to pull you even closer. Your fingers knot into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp just the way you know he likes, your heart already pounding, your thighs clutching his waist. He claws at your back, pressing you harder against him, but beneath the layers, you can barely feel his touch. You whine at the growing heat between your legs and the lack of sensation. You have to feel him.

With a tug, you jerk off the denim jacket, sweat already sprouting against the valley of your spine. He whines, this time a sound of protest.

“Baby, don’t–,” he pants, your mouth inches from his. He claws at you and the jacket, needing you nearer and distant all at the same time. “It’s for your own good–,”

“Just one layer. Please, I’m burning up,” you beg. He relents, letting out a breathless frustrated noise. You hurl the jacket off your arm and onto the floor.

He lifts you both then, hands digging into the back of your thighs, your hands going to his collar to keep the seam of your chests pressed together, and he turns to bury you in the mattress. Despite the countless times you’ve been in this exact position, it somehow manages to feel like the first time you made out with him. That same frantic heat, that buzzing energy, that need to touch and explore but not wasting a second to linger. A pulsing warmth swells between your legs and your hips jerk up a fraction of an inch, but they keep from making contact with the seam of his jeans. He’d never do this again if you broke his rules.

Showing him where you want him to go, you nip his earlobe as he pries your thighs apart with his hands around the back of your knees, out of habit more than anything. You suck down on the back of his jaw, the smell of his hair and aftershave scratching against the rough of your insides to burn you a little bit hotter. Your teeth worry his skin just to the right of the knot in his throat and he jerks, moaning. He shifts his weight down, his pelvis tilting into the cradle of your hips and you eagerly receive him. You’ll go as far as he’ll willingly allow, but you want him to know this isn’t all on him.

“Color?” You tear your mouth away from his, hands nestled around the backs of his ears, you push back to look him in the eye.

He answers you a second before he lunges in to kiss you again. “Green.”

“You wanna keep going?” Don’t grind, don’t grind, don’t grind.

He nods, eyes closing for a second. “‘m okay, I’m okay. Put your hands up my shirt.”

You blink up at him, chest still heaving. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” So you do. You rub your palms up under the lip of his shirt, smoothing them against his sides, his chest, his stomach, which tenses as if your hands are cold. With a gasp, he drops his head into the curve of your shoulder, his breath hot, almost burning. You wonder if his fangs are out. He shifts, pressing up against your chest, deeper into your neck, rocking his hips once, and he sucks on that soft place beneath your earlobe, making you keen.

“Can I see them?” You blurt out. “B-before–,” your voice catches and you swallow the desire in your throat. “Before you bite me.”

Max’s shoulders still. You’re both breathing heavily and you stare up at your ceiling, afraid to meet his horrified face. Maybe you’d gone too far. Asking to be bitten was one thing, but maybe he didn’t want you to actually watch when he –

“Really?”

He peels back from you, his elbows locked out on either side of your head. He meets your gaze with trepidation and . . . awe.

You nod frantically. “Yes. Yes, please. I even want to–,”

He’s staring at your mouth like if he thinks hard enough, exactly what he wants to hear will come out.

“You wanna what?” His voice is deeper than gravel, lower than the graves of the earth.

“I want to touch them, Max.” You’ve never felt more exposed beneath him as he stares down at you. His hair is mussed, as if as shocked as he is.

You think his jaw drops in surprise, but in the glint of the candlelight, you see them shine. White, glistening fangs. Slowly, he parts his mouth even more, jaw opening, and his upper lip raises a quarter of a fraction of an inch.

In the far back of your mind, in your undeveloped lizard brain, the thing that squeezes out primal, dripping fear when confronted with things unknown, it’s pumping adrenaline. It’s working overtime. It’s going to catch fire. It’s screaming, begging, sobbing at you to run. To run fast and as far as you can because this? This thing that has you pinned beneath him – is a predator. It’s an apex monster at the top of the food chain, a precise killing machine designed specifically to prey upon your weaknesses. You can feel your muscles tighten, adrenaline roaring in your veins, you actually see his face better in the dark light as your pupils dilate, every fight-or-flight instinct you’ve ever possessed knotting together in a snarling, hissing, petrified void, all saying one thing:

Run, you idiot, run. Run. Run!

But you don’t. You can’t.

When you first discovered that Max was a vampire you asked him if he’d ever hypnotized you and he said no. And then you made him swear on point of stake that he would never, ever do that to you.

You wondered vaguely if now he had broken his promise. Because you cannot look away.

You exhale shakily, blinking up to his glistening wet mouth. With a trembling hand, you reach for his cheek, sliding it along his jaw, over the top of his upper lip, and then down. Down a single white fang, an obscene mockery of your own canine teeth. You’re surprised to find it smooth, just as hard as any of your own teeth, but you continue your thumb down to the very point of it.

“Careful–,” he warns, the sound garbled, and a second too late.

You prick your thumb on the razor edge of his fang. He shudders, head dropping between his shoulders.

Wide-eyed and mortified, you immediately suck your thumb into your mouth at the first well of blood.

“Max, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t thinking! I–”

“No,” he says gently, but his voice is hoarse. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He lifts his head, eyes unreadable, but the candlelight brings color back to them, as if they had been consumed by shadow. “It’s okay.” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your wrist, easing your thumb out of your mouth. Watching you for any hint of rejection or fear, Max guides your thumb, wet with your spit and a dribble of blood, between his lips, between his fangs, and smears his tongue across the wound. He tries to maintain eye contact, but he groans, eyes fluttering, his hips swinging down. The noise he makes sends static directly into the pit of your stomach like a hot flare. You can’t fight it; you clench down on nothing.

Holy fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.

“Max,” you whine softly. He hums around your thumb, tongue lapping at the tip, eyes still closed as though he was drunk and trying to get the room to stop spinning. Finally, he parts his lips and removes your finger from his mouth. You can feel his rock-solid erection pressing into your pelvis.

He breathes, slowly, as though he was focusing on every molecule of air entering and leaving his lungs. Finally, Max lifts his eyes to you again and, again, you feel that white hot spark down between your legs. His fingers around your wrist loosen, thumb and forefinger catching around the cuff of your sleeve and slowly push it down.

“Color?” He husks, his breath coasting over your exposed wrist.

“G-green,” you stutter out. You know it can’t be helping him but your heart is pounding, rushing, vibrating behind the thick wall of your sternum. That same adrenaline that told you to run before has now locked you flat on your back, a different kind of instinct taking over. Your thighs ache to drop open around him. Take me take me take me.

He lowers his head to your blue, pulsating vein and lets the skin rub against his smooth incisor. Your back arches just off the mattress as if he’s fucking you with his tongue.

“Is it going to hurt?”

He’s not looking at you now, every sense within him entirely anchored to your wrist. But he shakes his head steadily, as if staving off sleep.

“I won’t let it.”

A prick. Nothing more. Nothing more hideous or crude than a shot in the arm. And yet you know it’s deeper, closer to bone, through flesh and sinewy muscle, into the deep thready vein. You know it’s deeper because a red ribbon of blood trickles down the flesh of your forearm. You watch it with fascination, your vision going a bit blurry as a sense of peace and ease rises up and greets you. You’re not lightheaded, but there is an ease, a delight, as if something had dulled your senses to the world. Your face breaks into a smile, even though you don’t feel your cheeks moving.

His licks are gentle, curious, tongue a little cold against your flesh. With your other hand, you stroke his neck, then tangle with his hair. You scratch him like you would the family dog.

“Good boy, Max, you’re such a good boy.”

And then the noise that’s been hovering at the edge of your awareness ratchets so loud you can’t ignore it any more. A buzzing, a humming, as though a thousand heartbeats were all racing in sync with one another. You don’t know where it’s coming from or what it is, but you don’t mind it – it’s soothing, sweet, peaceful. You ease your hand from his hair, back down his neck, to the knot of his spine and –

“Max, are you purring?” It’s undeniable. His entire chest is vibrating as if powered by a jet engine.

He muffles a response into your wrist, tongue more forcefully pressing into your skin.

“Oh my god, you are! Vampires purr?” You giggle. “If we do nothing else, figuring out you’re capable of purring has been entirely worth it.”

Again a muffled grunt. Your heart beat skips for a moment – what if he doesn’t stop – and then another pinch and you hear the faint chunk of his fangs retracting. The humming from his chest softens, quiets smoothly, fading to silence, as he wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You giggle louder, that pleasant, sweet feeling still cradling you like a cloud, as he sits up from the bed.

“Okay, now I’m kind of offended you never purred when I sucked your dick. Or that time I put on that strap-on! Or –,”

“Quiet you,” he grumbles with a bit of a smirk as he kneels down beside the bed and using the white towel beneath you, he wipes your wrist clean. Then, with his head hung down, he swipes his thumb against his mouth again.

“What are you–,”

The pad of his thumb bright red, he gently brushes his blood over the two pin-prick holes and, to your utter shock, the skin knits itself together. You watch, transfixed, as any evidence that he ever bit you slowly disappears. With the wounds sealed and gone, Max presses a kiss to your wrist. He stands up and goes to pour the disinfectant on your dresser into one of the cotton balls. You sit up and you emerge instantly from that cloud of serenity. You’re clear headed and awake, that adrenaline rush gone. You rub your wrist, the dried blood making the skin there tacky and sticky.

“That was . . .” You swallow. You know you didn’t orgasm but you still feel that lingering pleasantness, that almost syrup-y haze.

“How are you feeling?” Max asks over his shoulder, his frown serious. He sits back on the bed and gently takes your wrist from your fingers. His gaze keeps flickering from the dried blood to your face as he cleans your wrist and forearm. “Any pain? Dizziness? Nausea? Do you want to eat something – or drink –,”

“Max.” His mouth snaps shut, his brown eyes open and pleading and concerned. Something dislodges from your chest and pricks your eyes. This is only the first step in getting to what you really want, but you feel infinitely closer to him, like you’ve peeled back a layer and found something as warm and as comforting as sunshine. “Max, honey, that was perfect.”

You all but fall into him, your hand tugging on his collar to bring him into your atmosphere, your orbit, and you kiss him with fervent urgency. He groans in relief, in surprise, his hand cradling your jaw. You pull back, actually a little dizzy, but you’re quite sure that has nothing to do with blood loss.

“Yeah?” he murmurs against your lips and you nod before kissing him again. He smiles, his thumb petting your cheek as if to calm you. “Good. That’s really good, baby. You did so well.”

You scoff. “I don’t think I’ve ever been less of a participant in something so sexual.”

His eyebrow arches. “You got off on that?”

“Fair question. I guess you have to ask . . . since I wasn’t the one literally purring with delight!”

He rolls his eyes, huffing. “That’s actually the reason I didn’t want to do this. You’re never going to let this down.”

You pout at him, tilting your head. “Aw, poor pussy.”

He plucks a kiss from your cheek and snags the cookie box from your dresser. You realize how starving you are and you nearly tear open the box.

“So you’re really good, with everything?”

You nod, waiting until another time to ask him about that rather orgasmic haze you found yourself in.

He bites his lip as he watches you lick chocolate from your bottom lip.

“Then it’s off to second base we go.”

Next | Series Masterlist

#pedrostories1k #max phillips #max phillips x you #max phillips smut #max phillips fanfiction #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader

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asimpforthe80s · 4 months ago

Text

★Sweet, sweet honey★

Starring: M!Reader x Eddie Munson

Warnings: gay sex, reader catches Eddie jerking off, fluff

Author's note: ★Honestly, I just found this in my drafts and decided to finish it. I think it turned out pretty okay. Let me know what you think!★

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

You’ve been friends with Eddie and the gang for years now, but you still didn’t understand everything they said. They are quite caring, and doesn't mind that you dress like a girl, depite being a boy. You and the others went on a camping trip to a cabin in the woods. There were three cabins. Dustin and the kids (+ Steve/mom) went to the first one. Nancy and Robin took the second cabin, leaving you and Eddie with the third. Which you didn't mind, since you were good friends with Eddie and had known him for years.

Fast forward, you had gotten a fire running and had been sitting around it for a few hours, as it has grown dark. "Okay, kiddos, get your asses to bed." Steve says, already annoyed with how much energy they had. But they head on to bed, along with Nancy and Robin, who went to their cabin only minutes later.

You and Eddie eventually get too tired to stay outside, and head inside, where you say goodnight and head to your separate rooms.

Eddie wakes up fairly late, but something feels off. It's the scent of his pillow. It somehow smelled like you, despite having slept in separate rooms. But Eddie had a secret which you didn't know about. He was in love with you and had been for years. Growing annoyingly horny at the smell of you on his pillow, he facepalms into it and starts stroking his cock, moaning your name.

You sit in the corner, smirking. "Yes, pretty thing.. don't mind me." You murmured, your voice low and seductive as you cross your legs. Eddie's eyes snap open, his heart racing as he sees you there in the dim light, watching him with that sultry smile. His hand slows on his cock, then freezes as he takes in your provocative pose - legs crossed, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of thigh. "Shit... Y/N," he breathes, his voice husky with arousal. "What are you doing here?" Despite the question, Eddie makes no move to cover himself or hide his obvious hard-on. Instead, he stares at you with a mix of surprise, hunger, and a dash of nervousness. "You shouldn't be seeing this..." he mutters, though his body language screams that he's more than okay with the situation. "Well, why would you be jerking off when you know very well that I'm in the same cabin?" You asked, taking a few steps towards the bed. "Because I thought you were asleep," Eddie replies, his words coming out in a rush as he tries to justify his actions. He watches you approach, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of you moving closer stokes the flames of desire within him even further. "And besides... I couldn't help myself," he admits, his voice dropping an octave lower. "I've wanted you for so long..."

He shifts slightly on the bed, giving you a better view of his erect member, glistening with pre-cum. His eyes never leave yours, filled with a mixture of lust and trepidation. "Do you want to touch me? Feel what you do to me?"

"You're such a fucking tease, aren't you?" You smirked, before walking over to the bed and crawling onto it. Your fingers gently wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking him.

"Such a big dick, Eddie..." You whispered, leaning down to lick the tip of his cock. A shudder runs through Eddie's entire body as your soft lips wrap around the sensitive head of his cock. "Fuck, Y/N..." he groans, his hips bucking involuntarily. One hand reaches out to tangle in your hair, guiding you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby... take it all."

His other hand slides down to palm your breast through your shirt, feeling the supple flesh beneath. Eddie pinches and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a gasp from you. "Mmmm, you like that? You like me playing with these perfect man-tits?"

He continues to thrust shallowly into your mouth, savoring the wet heat engulfing him. "God, I've dreamed of this for so long... having you suck my cock, worshipping every inch of me..." Your tongue swirls around his cock, sucking on him hungrily while your hands roam his body. One hand wraps around his neck, pulling yourself closer while the other traces patterns across his chest. You pull away just enough to speak, "Fuck, Eddie... you taste so damn good..."

You take him back into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down on his thick length. The sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him is nearly overwhelming. Eddie lets out a guttural moan, feeling his control slipping as pleasure courses through him. "Y/N... fuck, that's it... just like that," he encourages, his grip tightening in your hair.

He can't help but watch, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him so deeply. Every movement of your head sends waves of delight coursing through his veins. "Oh God, yes... suck my cock, sweetheart," he pleads, his voice ragged with need. "Make Daddy feel good."

One hand leaves your breast to trail down your stomach, teasingly close to your cock but not touching yet. He wants to draw out the pleasure, prolong the torment of wanting you desperately but unable to give in fully. You continue to suck Eddie's cock, taking him deeper each time until you hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but recover quickly, swallowing around him as you start to bob your head faster. Your own cock twitches against Eddie's leg, leaking precum as you focus on pleasing him.

Your free hand moves down to stroke your cock, matching the rhythm of your head bobs. You look up at Eddie with half-lidded eyes, drinking in the sight of his pleasure. "Mmmph... gonna make you cum so hard, Eddie..." you mumble around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers through him. The sight of you gagging around his cock only fuels Eddie's arousal further. He can barely form coherent thoughts anymore; all he knows is the desperate need to fill your mouth with his cum. "Yeah, babe... just like that," he pants, his hips snapping up to meet each bob of your head.

His hand finally brushes against your throbbing member, giving it a firm squeeze. "But let's see if you can handle more than just my cock," he teases, his voice dripping with lust. With deft movements, he flips both of you over so that you're lying on top of him, straddling his waist. Now it's your turn to be pinned beneath his weight as he leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

As his tongue explores your mouth, Eddie's hand grips your cock firmly, pumping it in sync with the deep kisses. The sudden change in position had you gasping into Eddie's kiss, your body arching up into his touch. Your own hands roamed his back, nails digging into his skin as pleasure coursed through you.

Breaking the kiss, you leaned back just enough to look down at him, your lips swollen and flushed. "Fuck, Eddie... you're so good with your hands..." you panted, your hips grinding down against his strokes.

Your own hand reached up to cup his cheek, pulling him back in for another heated kiss. As much as you loved the attention on your cock, there was something about being pinned beneath him that sent shivers of delight straight to your core. The sensation of your hardened nipples pressing into his chest drives Eddie wild with desire. He breaks the kiss again, panting heavily as he looks up at you. "I want to hear you scream my name," he growls, his grip on your cock tightening even more.

With swift movements, he positions himself between your spread thighs, aligning his throbbing member at your entrance. "Ready for me, babe?" he asks, his voice low and husky with arousal. Without waiting for a reply, he thrusts upwards, burying himself inside you in one fluid motion.

A loud groan escapes him as he feels the tight warmth enveloping him completely. "Holy shit, Y/N... you're so tight..." he murmurs, pausing momentarily to adjust to the incredible feeling of being buried balls-deep inside you. The sudden fullness had you crying out, your back arching off the bed as pleasure rippled through you. "Fuck, Eddie... so deep..." you moaned, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to keep him inside you.

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders, gripping them tightly as he began to move. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, making your toes curl. "More... please, more..." you begged, pushing your hips up to meet his.

Your cock throbbed painfully against your belly, neglected and leaking precum. But right now, all you could think about was how amazing Eddie felt inside you. Eddie grins wickedly at your pleas, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. "Like that, do ya?" he taunts, his pace quickening as he begins to pound into you relentlessly.

Each thrust hits deeper, harder, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you to meet his thrusts perfectly. "Gonna make you mine, Y/N... gonna fill you up till you can't remember anyone else's name but mine," he promises, his voice laced with raw lust.

The sound of your bodies slapping together fills the room, punctuated by your moans and his deep groans. Eddie leans forward, biting down softly on your shoulder as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. The pain from his bite mixed with the pleasure of his thrusts had you seeing stars. "Yes! Fuck, Eddie... I'm yours!" you cried out, your orgasm building rapidly at the base of your spine.

Your cock twitched and leaked precum onto your stomach, begging for attention that you couldn't afford to give it right now. All you cared about was the way Eddie filled you up, stretching you deliciously wide with every thrust.

"You're so big... so fucking perfect..." you panted, your inner walls clenching around him instinctively. The compliment spurs Eddie on even more, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own climax. "You're gonna make me cum, Y/N... fuck, you're so damn tight..." he grunts, feeling his balls tighten with each pounding stroke.

He reaches down between your bodies, his fingers closing around your neglected cock. A few rough tugs have precum coating his palm before he starts stroking you in time with his thrusts. "Cum for me, babe... show me how much you love having my dick inside you," he commands, his voice strained with effort.

As much as he loves the feeling of being buried deep within you, Eddie needs to see you unravel under his touch – he needs to know that you're just as lost in pleasure as he is. Eddie's words and actions pushed you over the edge. "Oh god, Eddie... I'm cumming!" you screamed, your vision going white as your orgasm ripped through you. Your cock pulsed in Eddie's hand, spurting ropes of hot cum across your abdomen and chest. The intense pleasure made your inner walls clamp down on Eddie's shaft, milking him for all he was worth.

"Fill me up, Eddie... please!" You begged, not caring how desperate you sounded. You needed to feel him come inside you, marking you as his. And judging by the look on his face, he was close too. The sight of your release sends Eddie hurtling over the precipice. "FUCK, Y/N!" he roars, his hips slamming into you one final time as he explodes inside your welcoming heat.

Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over him as he fills you to the brim with his hot seed. His grip on your cock tightens, stroking you through the aftershocks until you're spent and limp in his grasp. Breathing heavily, Eddie collapses on top of you, his softening member still buried deep within your sated body. "Damn, sweetheart.. that was intense," he pants, nuzzling into the crook of your neck affectionately.

After a moment, he carefully pulls out, watching as his cum leaks out of your well-fucked hole. You whimpered softly as he pulled out. "Eddie.." you mumbled. Rolling off of you and onto his side, Eddie pulls you close, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you snug against his chest. "You okay, babe?" he asks, concern etched across his features. His other hand idly traces patterns on your lower back, his touch gentle yet possessive. "That was some ride, huh? Never been fucked like that before," he admits, a smirk playing on his lips.

Despite the intensity of what just happened, there's a warm glow spreading through you, making you feel content and satisfied. "So.." You panted. "Are we like.. together now?... o- or is this a one-time thing?" You asked, exhausted. Eddie chuckles softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "Well, sweetheart, I'd say we've got something special here," he says, his voice low and soothing. "One time wasn't nearly enough for me." He trails his fingers along your spine, sending shivers down your body. "How about we make this official? Be boyfriends... or whatever you wanna call us." His eyes sparkle with excitement and anticipation.

"I mean, if you're cool with it, I'd love to explore this whole relationship thing with you, Y/N." He gives your hip a playful squeeze, his smile growing wider. "What do you say, babe?" You nodded. "Yeah.." you murmured. "Steve's probably making breakfast by now.." You groaned, slowly trying to sit up. "Breakfast can wait," Eddie replies, pulling you back down onto the bed. "We've got plenty of time to catch up on our sleep later." He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks and disheveled appearance. "Let's just stay here for a bit longer," he suggests, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

There's a comfortable silence between you two, broken only by the occasional soft sigh or whispered word. It's peaceful, intimate, and exactly what you need after such an intense encounter. You slowly close your eyes as you rest against his body, your head against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. Content to simply hold you, Eddie listens to the steady rhythm of your heart echoing against his ribcage. "This is nice," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble beneath you. He runs his fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. "I could get used to this," he adds, a hint of happiness creeping into his tone.

For once, the worries and stress of the world outside seem far away, replaced by the warmth of your body pressed against his and the comforting sound of your breaths mingling with his own. "Mmmh..." You hummed, snuggling closer to him. "Steve's gonna be mad if the kids managed to hear what we did..." You chuckled. "Well, let 'em hear it," Eddie retorts, a teasing glint in his eye. "They're teenagers. They've probably heard worse from their friends." He leans down to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. "Besides, Steve knows we're adults. We can handle ourselves," he adds with a note of pride in his voice. With another soft peck on your forehead, he settles back into the pillow, his arms never leaving your body. You smiled at his words, resting your cheek against his chest again. "You really think so?" you asked, looking up at him. "Even though we were kinda loud?"

"Yeah, I do," Eddie assures you, his hands continuing their lazy exploration of your body. "And trust me, sweetheart, I plan on getting even louder with you." He punctuates his statement with a playful nip on your earlobe, causing you to squirm in delight. "But for now, let's just enjoy this quiet moment. No noise, no interruptions... just us." With that, he pulls you even closer, his body molding perfectly against yours as if designed to fit seamlessly with yours.

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

(Yes, Steve was very annoyed when Dustin and the others told him that they had heard the two of you have sex, lol)

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie coded #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #eddie munson things #eddie munson x you

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ryusuisloveinterest · 1 year ago

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Hiiiii!! Hi enjoyed the domestic headcanon very much!! Could you write what would be a date with husband!Ryusui please ? I just love him so much he’s my n°1 anime crush🤭.

Welcome back girlypop! I understand i love love Ryusui❤️ i assumed you wanted a drabble so that’s what I wrote. It’s kinda long but I hope you like it 💕

A date with your husband, Ryusui

It’s a good thing you aren’t claustrophobic, because the amount of people surrounding you right now is absurd. Makeup artist grabbing your face, tailors finishing sewing the dress/suit you’re already wearing, and hair stylist yanking and putting up your hair. You were used to it at this point, after all you had been modeling for years now. I’m fact it’s exactly how you met your husband, Ryusui. Right before the petrification of everyone in the world, the Nanami Conglomerate wanted to venture out and produce things besides ships. They started producing jewelry, perfumes and colognes, even kitchen utensils. But when they starting making clothes, that’s when you were called in. Very soon, you were one of the Nanami Conglomerates top models. There was photo shoot where you had to showcase watches; you were told you’d get a partner to pose with, but you didn’t think it be the heir of the Nanami Conglomerate himself. Safe to say you both adored each other. Even after everyone was petrified, you two thought about each other, and when Ryusui was revived, he wouldn’t dare do a thing without you by his side. After all the work and finding out who the Medusa really was, he bent down on one knee and asked to you to be his forever and in return he would be yours. It’s been a few years since that fateful day, having been married for two of them.

You take one final breath before stepping out on the runway, everyone clapping and cameras flashing. There’s one distinct voice that sticks out above the rest… “(Y/n)! Over here! You look so beautiful my amazing wife/husband/partner! “ You can see the people around him get annoyed (especially the photographers) but he could care less. Right now all he wants to do is support his partner

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the runway, and the close up photos, AND the after party, you sit in the back seat of a limousine with Ryusui with socks and sandals, one of his sweaters, and some sweatpants. You lean onto his shoulder, exhausted from the hectic day. “You did amazing love! That’s no surprise though, you’ve been this good from the first time I met you.” You softly smile, his words never stopped making your heart flutter. “Thank you darling…” you whisper back. “Why don’t you get some rest for a while? We’ll be home shortly.” You nod and take a short nap, falling asleep to the sound of his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few minutes pass when Ryusui wakes you up. As your eyes flutter open you can tell you’re not at home, but you know exactly where you are. Ryusui opens the door for you helping you out of the limo. You follow him into the woods, leading to a small picnic on the edge of a cliff. It hasn’t changed since he proposed to you. There were small candles glowing, flowers placed on the ground, and a small speaker with your favorite music playing. “What’s all this for love?” You question to him. He laughs, “Do you not know the date today?” The date? It’s just November 17….oh shit. “Oh my gosh, Ryusui I’m so sorry it just slipped my mind!” How could you forget your anniversary?? Ryusui treats you like a queen every day and you didn’t even remember to get him a gift for your anniversary? “Please forgive me Ryusui! I can’t believe I forgot! With the rehearsals and the fittings and-“ Ryusui laughs even louder this time. “You think I’m upset? Dear I know how busy you’ve been this month, I see how tired you are when you get home. I haven’t even seen you draw I’m forever!” You smile at him, how were you so lucky? “Come love, let me spoil you.” He helps you sit down, opening the picnic basket with your favorite foods and treats. You sit together for what feels like hours and enjoying each other’s company. You shared kiss after kiss, on your lips, on your cheeks, your nose your neck. The wine bottle and grapes are finished along with the snacks sandwiches. As your laughter dies, you can hear one of your favorite songs, the first song you and Ryusui danced to when you were married. “Do you hear you the song darling?” You ask him. “How could I not? It’s the song that reminds me of you.” He stands, offering his hand. You take it as he lifts you gently. One hand holds your hand and his other on you waist; your hand on his shoulder. Your bodies touch as you two dance, your head leans on his chest, his heart acting as the best melody. “Happy anniversary Ryusui…” you whisper to him, kissing his chest. “Happy anniversary (y/n), I love you so much, more than you’ll ever know.”

#dr stone #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami headcanons #ryusui nanami x reader #dcst #dr stone headcanons #ryusui x reader

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garrettwrites · 3 months ago

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I was enjoying the Celebrimbor and Hal Sauron scene up until the Annatar revelation. It was just too much. It was too on the nose. I got Jesus gifs from catequese flashbacks. All subtlety flew out the window. You could have just made him walk out of a raging fire that kind of looked like clouds... not that.

Apologies, but it did feel incredibly wrong to me. I have given season 2 plenty of leeway while watching, and it is objectively enjoyable in many parts. However, Jesus Sauron is meant to be subtle in its reference. We are talking about Tolkien, who hated allegory even if he ( unscounsciously or not) put it in his works. Having Sauron in a cgi background with a flowing robe, long hair, and a holy spirit vibe with arms spread is just so fucking... wow.

Pretty fire was enough. They could have ended it here (but made the last pic more fire than cloud, yet still with cloud shapes to be kinda cheeky and charming):

But instead we got this jarring ass, on the nose, made for people with zero comprehension skills mess:

You even have the light of god shining down on him. Because god forbid it's not obvious enough. How can the season that started out with a gorgeous shot of Sauron's head in between the crown's circle, which is being held by Adar (and can symbolize a struggle between who deserves the crown between them, especially since then Adar flips the crown around to face his own head rather than Sauron's; as well as it visually looking like Sauron's head between a ring, which poses the question of which is more important: the title of Lord or the power of the Ring)... do such a cheap trick like this?

God this scene annoys me. "But it looks good" looking good matters not. Your story needs to stick to its themes, its language, its basics. If you included a shot of Elrond landing on the moon with incredible quality and moondust hitting him in his silly face, it would look good, but it would be jarring as shit. It wouldn't belong in the series. The same happens here.

One of the biggest problems with ROP, which extends to season 2, is how Amazon picks pretty - be it pretty looking with no cohesion or pretty sounding with no meaning - over logical. This Annatar entrance is pretty, forceful in its imagery, an unwarranted.

#rings of power #rop critical #rings of power s2 #rings of power spoilers #anti rop #using the tags just in case #although I very much am critical of this series I also tried giving it a fair chance #for instance I think it all peaked on the first few minutes of episode 1 #that was good in terms of writing acting and visuals #this? not it

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kikyan · 2 years ago

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Hello! I saw your writing and I was amazed on how great it is! I was wondering if I could request Yandere Octavinelle x a Mer shark reader that acts all proud and overconfident in human form (even threatening the twins and Azul since technically sharks are natural predators of mooray eels and octopi) but in actual mer form they are pathetic (small and their tail fin is terribly scarred so they are very slow) so they mostly hide.

Apologies for the way over specifics and I hope I am not a bother with my request.

Omg, thank you!! I hope each and every one of you guys knows I love and appreciate all of you!! You're never a bother with your request! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!

I could see Azul get a tad bit annoyed at how you're always so proud. Honestly, who wouldn't? Azul hates the idea of being looked down upon and here you are threatening him? You're already on his list of trying to get a contract with you to reverse the tables (this is when he's overconfident in his ability so ofc he acts proud too). The twins just find it intriguing, Jade probably wants to see what would happen if you got into a fight and Floyd is probably trying to start it. I think Azul has a short temper along with Floyd (maybe not as short as Floyd but then again I don't see Floyd as getting angry, like genuine anger, over things like this) but Azul doesn't like confrontation. Azul enjoys planning your downfall and ideas to get you by his side while also realizing the power he has. Floyd wants to push your buttons and torment you slowly. Jade wants to see you reduced to a pitiful form through a carefully thought-out plan. Honestly, even just acting like hot shit around them is already a risk.

Imagine their surprise, when they see your shark form. Really? Is this the big reveal, the big monster that was going to swallow them whole? Pathetic. Azul would laugh, mock you even. I think Floyd mentioned how in the water Azul poses a huge threat because of his eight limbs and how he can actually move them individually? I wanna say this happened during the bean fest event? Regardless, this is embarrassing! I think Floyd and Jade would taunt and tease you relentlessly. They have more reason too. At first, they let you get away with it but now Floyd is there making your life hell. Pushing you down the stairs Trey style, he's snatching your homework, he's pulling your hair and pinching you. Jade is the worst, he's getting the others to start picking on you, and after a run-in with Floyd, you're scared to see Jade with a sickening smile on his face. He's following you and he may even join in the physical torment (they're not practicing WWE moves on yall sorry I just have to clarify that) like grabbing your wrist to tightly to the point you think he may snap it in half. Floyd comes around the corner and grabs the other one as they drag you to the monstro lounge to see Azul. I think they let the torment get so bad, not just Floyds but the others who have started thanks to Jade's help that you have no choice but to turn to Azul for a contract. What's this? Do you need help from the same people you threatened to jokingly eat and how you said you were better than them? Gee, I don't think we have a contract like that but I'm sure Azul can whip something up no? Then BAM! He has you in a contract that the bullying will cease and stop from the others as long as you become theirs. It's a good deal really, they could have you working tirelessly at Monstro Longue dealing with customers. Maybe even cooking and burning your beautiful hands. Though you're safe from the others, you're not safe from them. Now they really WILL practice their WWE moves on you.

#yandere octavinelle #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere floyd leech #yandere floyd x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade x reader #yandere asks #yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere headcannons #yandere imagines #yandere twisted wonderland

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short-black-diamond · 1 year ago

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We got swoled and chaded 😂

Ok a request!!! Hmmm could you do something about the Kamille has a crush on Sahed/Rainah situation? Like Julia rambling to Sahed about how they can’t keep seeing each other because Kamille has feelings but lets slip that she is into him? Or honestly I’ll take anything

Yeah sure! I was thinking very much how the author(s?) would write Kamille and Julia actually talking about their situation and everything. Anywaysssss, let's do this!

I changed that request a little bit for personal reasons, so yeah...

Uh...it will be a little angsty for Julia (in my opinion), and I will do a shit ton of Kamille slander, however, I'm not good at this so you might not be that mad, but oh well!

Also I did not proofread.

Sahed x Julia

---

What did you just say?

How long? Or better; how much longer?

Another day has passed in this weird circus with living corpses acting like humans and the brown haired girl trying to figure out the magic behind it.

But that was pushed aside because of a new problem. Kamille had a crush on Sahed. That's what Julia thought as she made yet another useless attempt of trying to find the girl who was most aqquainted to her. And she failed yet again.

With a frustrated sigh, she sunk down on a nearby bench and just looked at the scenery in front of her; acrobatics making the most ridiculous and dangerous looking poses and stunts, others playing with balls, Dotty and Bob chatting away with some other adults and much many more circus-like activities taking place.

Julia felt...lonely. Yes. She felt abandoned. Why?

She was far away from home. She didn't know if she'd ever even see her father again.

Kamille was spending much more time with her new friends Rainah and Sahed.

Dotty was ignoring her uneasyness and hunger for more insight of the past of this circus.

Tonny didn't look like a bad guy.

Sahed was a mysterious boy.

Sahed...was also a boy, who was one of the many reasons she didn't feel good. Not in a bad way- it's just, he's...weird. Dangerous. somehow...hot?

No!

Julia did not just think that! Not about that cocky smirk! Not about that luscious hair! Not about those beautiful orbs...or that sweet little extra eye...!

"Oh hello there. Didn't think I'd see you here of all places.", the boy's voice said, pulling her out of her thoughts. She flinched and yelped, but Sahed only chuckled as it was no surprise to him. He got to know her, after all.

"S-Sahed! I-uh-", dammit, what should she say? And what did he mean by that? "I just...wanted to see how everyone was doing...", she spoke, albeit hesitantly. She couldn't trust that guy. Not when he seemed to look...understanding? Did he just giver her a look of sympathy? No, she must've imagined it.

Sahed was just as dangerous as everyone else in this place. "So so? And...where's Kamille?", he asked in faux concern, with the intention of annoying her again. He knew that Kamille was very dear to Julia, but it also pissed him off that she was spending more time with his sister than her best friend, even when she was designing the clothes.

But he didn't notice the way Julia frowned upon his question a little. Nor did he hear her heart crack. "I don't know. I thought she was with you.", Julia answered, but her tone lacked emotion.

So Sahed likes Kamille too. Lucky her.

Sahed felt weird for some reason. His third eye sensed some iffy stuff going on now. Sahed was alarmed, but didn't show it. "Why would she be with me? She only likes to hang out with my sister you know? It's so damn annoying.", and he yawned. Julia noticed the dark circles under his eyes. Why does he never sleep?? But on the other hand, he looks hot-

"Oh, then...you should be going to bed. You have heavy eyebags. It doesn't suit you."

Okay, no.

This was not the Julia he knew.

He wanted his old Julia back.

The one who'd always shout and yell and blush and stutter and look so ador- Hold on.

What was he thinking???

"And it doesn't suit to me that you're acting weird.", he declared, suddenly stepping closer to her. She was taken aback, of course, and leaned back because he was invading her space as she was sitting on the bench.

He was bowing, she was sitting. He then rested his head on her shoulder. And whispered: "What happened?"

It was soft. Yet a demand.

A soft demand.

Julia felt bewitched by his rizz powers/hotness bluntness and her breath hitched. instinctively, she pushed him away form her and looked away. "N-nothing's wrong with me!" Yet she wanted to tell him about her every concern.

"Something clearly is. Am I that much of a bastard to you that you don't want to talk to me?", he asked, and Julia risked it to look at him again.

Big mistake.

Instead of his usual, confident smirk, there was a...great sadness.. adorning his face. His brows were furrowed in a sad frown, the corners of his mouth went south and he even closed his third eye. She liked that eye the most. Even if she'd never admit to it freely.

And even though he still looked amazing, she couldn't help but feel another pang of pain and her heart cracked again. She didn't know if she could handle it. "I- can we talk in private then? I don't want unwanted eavesdroppers to hear us..."

and so, the two were in a cabinet that didn't belong to anybody from the circus. Julia took a big breath before she started talking.

"As you know, I'm Kamille's friend, but ever since we came here, she's been distancing herself from me more and more and found so many friends so easily. Meanwhile I'm here, trying to overcome the fact that we really might stay here for the rest of our lives."

She received a nod. Sahed was either trying to act like he cared, or he actually...did care. "I mean, sure, Kamille would make friends no matter where we'd be. I just...I always feel excluded. I know that I'm not as pretty or nice or good as her. Or what everybody sees in her but me. I knew that the kids our age only liked Kamille. They even told me."

Sahed frowned. Julia was actually a good person. How could anybody tell Julia that they wouldn't want to spend time with her? And telling her that they don't like her to her face?

What the hell?

She was... Weird, but cute. And he flushed at the thought, but Julia didn't really pay him any mind and kept going.

"Kamille...she, uh-jeez that will sound childish to you- but...she forgot my birthday. We normally always celebrated together. But this time, she just forgot!", Julia exclaimed, this time looking at Sahed, and this time too, he frowned.

"When she's your best friend, why does she do that? Shouldn't she have told those kids to not exclude you and be nice to you?"

At that, Julia was taken aback. Sahed actually listened and discussed it with her instead of making fun of her. Her cheeks warmed up, but she pushed her feelings away, only for them to grow a hundredfold when Sahed kept going.

"And how could she forget your birthday? Isn't she your best friend? Me personally, I wouldn't let that slide. No."

Suddenly, Julia felt embarassed. Kamille liked Sahed! Damn, why did she talk so badly about Kamille?!?!? She needs to fix this!

And, well, with futile attempts, the girl with the long hair laughed awkwardly. "B-but that's okay! Kamille's pretty nice aside from that! She can design such pretty stuff, don't you think?! She'd be a great girlfriend for you!!"

Ouch.

Ouch ouch ouch ouchouchouchouchouchouch-

"Wha- why would I want her to be my- whoah, whoah whoah whoah. Wait a minute. What the hell is going on?", the male glared at her.

Sahed didn't get Julia. In the first moment, she's depressed. Then she's talking about the problems in her life. What bad things Kamille has done. And then she's telling him to become her girlfriend???

Sahed didn't get girls. Girls were weird creatures.

he sighed and punched the bridge of his nose. "Julia, why are you telling me all your problems, Kamille not treating you right, like as in her not aknowledging your existence,", hence Julia averting her eyes with a hurt expression where in response his heart hurted, "nor standing up to your bullies, or even forgetting your birthday? She does not seem like such a good person to me. and I don't even think she likes me, more like-"

"What?! Of course she likes you! You're smart, handsome, sometimes funny, a good listener, handsome, weird, mysterious, handsome, and you're a good brother. I don't think that Kamille could get a better crush on anybody else than you."

All the while you were counting the reasons 'Kamille' could have a crush on him, he'd rather...want it to be Julia who did. "You know that you called me handsome three times, right?"

Ah, there was that hot smirk again. Sahed thought that he could tease Julia with it -and hopefully get a confession- but he was not prepared to hear her actually say it.

"Because I like you."

She- She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world...!

"What did you just say?"

Julia took a little while to process why Sahed's tan was getting redder and his eyes widening before she realized what she did.

She voiced her thoughts out loud.

She got a little whiplash from all the blood rushing to her head, but she was too focused on apologizing and telling him to forget that she ever said that. In her head, she was punching and kicking herself. Did I really say that?! Do I really like Sahed?! What will Kamille think??!

He was still stunned, but recovered quickly.

Slowly, he took one of her flailing hands in his and brought them to his lips.

"May I?", he asked.

And she couldn't believe it was really happening. Too weak to move her mouth, she just nodded weakly, and Sahed gave Julia a small kiss to her knuckles.

"Julia, I like you t-"

"Sahed- OHH, I'M SORRYYY~", Dotty interrupted Sahed's confession towards Julia with a laughing face. He was blushing furiously, because Dotty of all people had to see him in such a state. And he also thought that no one would look for him at this time.

Julia was no better. "D-DOTTY?! wha-what are you doing here?!"

The freckled woman only giggled and waved her hand before dissappearing again.

Julia and Sahed would have some explaining to do.

---

I honestly wanted Sahed to comfort Julia as well, but here we are.

I hope it was okay!!

Send in more requests please! Also please read my work "battle fairy" guys! Thank you!

#marionetta #marionetta x reader #sahed x reader #sahed #rainah #rainah x reader #kamille #kamille slander #we don't like kamille in this house #bob #dotty #tonny

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