#it’s only in like 10 theaters but still | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hazelfoureyes · 8 months ago

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I just need you to know this story has had me in a chokehold and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it. This is gonna be a weird smutty slow burn, so still smut every post but full p in v sex will be a reward you have to work for?

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Redsmut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedysmut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

「warnings/tags: HumanAlastor x FemaleReader, implied attempt to SA, fingering, plot with porn?, Multi part work, bad kind of choking, blood kink, blood licking, just in general blood, Non-Sex repulsed Ace Spectrum Alastor, stalking, murder obvs, finger sucking, smoking kinda kills if you squint, Public sex acts, garter belt, You have a stage name but no one important uses it, Greed, Lust, Human Alastor is a little different than Demon Alastor. 」

minors dni 💅🏽

Part 1 Pretty in Red

The marriage between burlesque and jazz wasn’t unexpected. Before the Great Depression took the nation into a stranglehold, both Jazz and Burlesque were immoral wastes of time only the most barbaric sought out.

And oh, did you love it. Everyone who was made to feel like nobody flocked to your theater and the surrounding neighborhood. Men, women, the people who didn’t agree with either. The biblically inclined, those closer to sodom, the sapphic dolls. Everyone was equal in the halls of jazz rooms and theatres where burlesquers were welcome.

Because of the inclusive nature of such places, you often saw familiar faces. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone from Thursday night to be seen Saturday at a different locale.

That presented certain opportunities and challenges. When you found a good mark, it was easy to be wherever he was and play it off as fate and common interests.

And when you gained a new stalker, someone wanting a personal show, it could be hard to tell until it was too late.

Maybe it was your greed, or just your love of attention, but you found yourself focused almost entirely on a particularly well dressed man one evening. You’d seen him around before. Clean cut, sharp suit, a welcoming smile always on display. He looked like he had money, the most attractive quality of any man you could meet.

So focused on his gleaming stare from the side booths you hadn’t noticed the man at the stage front tables. You barely noticed him the night before, or the night before that, either. Because Smiles, as you took to calling the handsome stranger in the back, had been here three nights now too.

You really put on a show. Shimmying your hips, ostrich feathers following suit with every move. Your brassiere was heavy with shining rhinestones, panties of silk and lace. Your set was almost done, all that was left was to remove your top and slink away behind the curtains to hollers and whistles. Back turned, you unhooked the painful bra and let it fall to the stage with a clunk. Foot in front of foot, you stalked the stage length. With your hand hidden from view you took the feathered fan from the stagehand behind the curtain. As the music crescendoed you turned, fan unfurling just in time to hide yourself.

Groans, mass begging from the audience. Your stage name a chant now, a prayer. “Autumn! Come on!”

As the band slowed, music dying to mark the end of your number, you scanned the crowd. Eyes blinking coyly, you mouthed, “More? Did you want more?”

People were jumping to their feet, not Smiles but that was fine, you were focused now on the adoration of the crowd. The music ended, a second of silence.

You winked, the drums hitting one last beat as you let the fan close.

Fanfare! Men whistling, women clapping. Someone shouted a marriage proposal. You took a bow, twirled on the balls of your feet and slipped gracefully behind the curtains.

Your hands wound to your spine, rubbing blood flow back into your skin as the staff removed your headdress. Someone slipped your robe over you and you nodded a thanks, aching feet carrying you to the dressing room. It was chaos, as usual. Women buzzing around, tits and ass here and there. You smiled. You happened to enjoy this part of the job. Soft bodies in shiny costumes, lovely smells and sweet voices. If you could get dressed quickly enough, you could still take a tour of the room and slide into Smiles’ booth.

“Enjoy the show?” You’d ask. He’d lean in, maybe blush, “Always when you’re here.” Or something like that. You’d cozy up to him, flag down a waiter for something strong and pricey, and get him properly drunk. He’d wake up outside, fine and dandy except his missing cash.

You’ll call him a drunkard if he confronts you, accuse him of getting himself robbed after you refused his advances. You’ll say it too loudly, and he’ll run off.

You danced a little in your seat, another game of cat and mouse about to commence. But first, a smoke.

Unbeknownst to you, the well dressed man hadn’t come to see you. He preferred your singing shows at the little dive bar two blocks over. No, he had come for the man at the front table. For weeks now, he had watched him harassing the ladies of the few joints in New Orleans that weren’t regularly hounded by police. Your smiley mark even heard stories of unsavory acts, many women leaving the dance scene entirely after.

He didn’t care for it. He didn’t care for him. So he took to his hunt, following the man to come to his own conclusions. The pattern of behavior was obvious, and though he hadn’t seen what ended the last obsession, it was clear one of the performers at this club was being stalked as the next victim.

He watched your dance with half lidded eyes, just as much as he watched the man give dirty looks to the other men cheering. Heard the, “Marry me!” shouted at you.

Yes, it was obvious to him now.

So when the target of his interest got up and pushed his way into a staff only door, well, the well dressed man was sure to follow.

The great thing about confidence and a nicely tailored suit is that no one questions you about why you are where you are. So while the brute he tailed had to shove past people to get wherever he was going, people smiled and made room for the gentleman who was not far behind.

He caught the street access door before it closed, allowing it to stay open just a sliver. Enough for one golden brown eye to watch the events unfold.

“Can I have a light?” The stranger asked you. You looked at him, then to the staff only entrance he just came out of.

“I don’t think I know you….,” you handed him the lighter but he instead leaned into you, cigarette hanging from his lips. “You… new?”

You sparked the flint with a practiced thumb, taking three tries to get it lit, and put your hand out. The man didn’t budge, eyebrows rising, “You really don’t recognize me?” He asked, motioning with his hand to come closer. Your eyes glanced down the alley, cars slowly moving past the street. When you looked back, the man took your wrist in his hand. He held you so tightly that the muscles in your palm locked and you dropped the lighter.

“What the fu-,” his hand came across your face, halting your sentence.

“I’m your best customer. Every show. I’m the one who brings flowers.”

Dozens of men bring flowers, especially on the weekend shows. You held your cheek, skin burning. Your hand pulled back, the corner of your lip bleeding from his rings. Scrambling, your mind was searching for the right words.

With a forced smiled, your shaky voice finally piped up, “Oh! Yeah! Oh geez. I am so sorry, doll. I’m just so tired, and the alley is so dark. Here, let’s go inside so I can get a better look at you.” You tried to take your wrist from him but he didn’t loosen up.

“Nah, you ain’t tricking me. You owe me.” He pulled you into him, large hand gripping your face with ease, “You can’t lead on men like this and think you don’t gotta answer for it.” He kissed you, forcing your face into his. “Bitch! Did you fucking bite me?” He threw you into the tin trash cans beside the wall, knocking the wind out of you.

No purse, no sharp object, not even a heeled shoe to defend yourself with. You cursed, so preoccupied with Smiles you forgot your wits.

You spit out the copper saliva, his blood and yours. “I’ll keep biting, too.”

Why scream? The sounds of the next act were bouncing off the brick walls. Upbeat jazz and applause echoing around you. No one would hear you. Men can break your body but you never had to give them your dignity. Never give them the satisfaction of a response.

No. No screaming. You instead spent your energy trying to get to your feet. He took hold of your neck now, throttling you. It wasn’t what you had expected, but as he lifted you off the ground and your little dressing room slippers fell off, you thought this was actually better.

“Well I think that’s quite enough.”

You felt warmth, then registered wetness. Your shin scraped on the asphalt as you were dropped without warning. Trying to open your eyes, you found you couldn’t see. Wiping and blinking away the foreign liquid, you watched your attacker fall to his knees.

Blood was shooting from between his fingers around his own neck, each pulse becoming weaker and weaker, evident through the stream.

When he finally fell over, drained, you were startled to see another man with you. The light reflected off his glasses as he adjusted them, the knife still in his right hand as he did so.

“My, my. What a mess he’s made.” The man smiled down at you, offering a hand. When you didn’t immediately react, he cocked his head to the left, “Is that anyway to treat your rescuer?”

Is that was this was? A rescue? You took his hand with both of yours, pulling yourself up.

Smiles? You blinked away the shock, time to shift into your next part. Damsel. You weren’t out the woods yet.

“You saved my life!” As you pressed yourself into his chest, you tucked your head beneath his chin. You tried to make yourself small. “I owe you! Please let’s go inside, drinks on me!” You looked up, batting your lashes.

“I don’t think that’s wise, dear.” His gaze panned down your dress, soaked through. He could see the thinking behind your eyes.

“No, right….,” You gripped his vest, “We gotta get outta here, fast. There’s a hotel just behind the threatre.” You started to pull his suit jacket off, slipping it over yourself. “No cops, the theatre will get raided. Just— take me somewhere safe?”

You watched him look you over, arm finally extending to let you hook yours with his.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind you, you slipped off his jacket and ran to the dressing table mirror.

Your face was painted red, navy dress now black and sticky. It was good you stayed from view of the reception staff. “I didn’t get my rescuer’s name,” you licked your thumb and rubbed at the blood around your cheeks.

“Alastor. It’s a pleasure.”

You laughed, “Is that what you call a pleasure?” Turning, you pulled the mostly still dry handkerchief from your pocket and dabbed the corner on your tongue. You brought it up to the frame of his glasses and wiped the blood from the metal. “I’d hate to see what you call a bad time.”

Your hand slowed, noticing the way he was looking at you. Typically men’s pupils were blown when they fell on you, but his were constricted. They flitted around your face. His hand took hold of yours, fingers separating the thumb from the handkerchief. He pulled the little square of yellow fabric free with his other hand, allowing him to hold your thumb now by itself.

His lips opened, tongue licking the blood stained finger before placing it directly into his mouth.

Your stared, horrified, as he sucked the digit clean.

His eyes fluttered close, finger popping out of his mouth with a debauched sound. You made no attempt to take back your hand. The realization you may have hopped out of the frying pan and into the fire set in.

“You are a funny one, aren’t you?” You tried to sound as in control as possible. Calm. Unwavered. Offered a timid smile.

He chuckled, “You could say that. May I?” His fingers lifted your chin. You didn’t know what he was asking. His soft smile looked downright loving. He smelled so good, notes of something earthy rising above the copper.

You nodded, because part of you wanted to see where it would go. And part of you thought you didn’t have a choice.

As his face came to yours, you instinctually closed your eyes expecting a kiss. But no, instead you felt his tongue wipe across the cut at the corner of your mouth. His breath blanketed your cheek. Then his hand left your chin, the warmth of his body gone entirely.

You opened your eyes to see him at the door, slipping back into his jacket, “I’ll pay for the night.” He tipped his head to you and exited the room back first, eyes locked with yours until the door closed.

You just stood there in the silence left behind. But as if on cue, the adrenaline waned and your knees buckled under you. You were moments from death, now somehow spared. But what had he— Alastor, been doing there? Did he follow you, too? The cat and mouse had been flipped, or perhaps now this was a fox and hound?

Gripping the dressing table, you pulled yourself up and into the view of the mirror again. Face streaked in dried blood save for the one clean spot where your lips met cheek.

You felt like a ghost the next day. It would be nice to tell someone about what happened but, “Hey a man tried to kill me and then another man killed him! Then he licked blood off my face and I let him. It was the most disturbingly erotic thing to happen to me in months!” would get you tossed into a wagon.

“Are you rude or just stupid?” The theatre manager pulled you aside by the arm when you came into rehearsal. “You can’t just disappear like that, people were waiting.”

Your eyes narrowed, “Was… my absence really the most exciting part of the evening? Not the John in the gutter?”

He huffed, “So that’s it? Got a beau?”

“Wait— nothing else happened last night? After I left?”

“This show doesn’t revolve around you. Plenty happened.”

“Excuse me,” you hurried into the back, “And sorry!”

You opened the street access door and looked into the alley. Trash cans neat and tidy, no dead man, nothing strange or telltale.

You ducked back inside. Had Smiles done this? Obviously, actually. No stranger just cleaned up the dead body. If the flatfeet had found him, the club would have been under scrutiny.

Good, you thought, and went about your work.

Rehearsal dragged on. Little details summoning you back to the night before.

“You okay?” Another performer asked, grabbing your hand and inspecting the blood around your cuticles.

“Oh it’s not mine!” You laughed, she laughed, you walked off before she could clarify.

When applying your makeup, you remembered his hands on your face. They were so soft. Definitely a man of means. A brief intrusive thought, the other hands on your face last night.

You pranced on stage, going through the motions of your routine. Even in the empty hall, your eyes wandered to the booth he’d been in. And as you took the stage in earnest later that night you searched the crowd for the glint of his glasses and found nothing shiny nor promising.

Back in the dressing room you took a moment to wonder what the actual fuck you we’re doing. He murdered a man in front of you, why were you hoping to see him again? He had half a mind to kill you next.

But would that really be so bad? Your life was routine, boring even. The only thing keeping your lungs expanding was the applause. Maybe the headlines of your death would cause such an uproar, dancer struck down in her prime, that you could bask in the loving glow all the way from hell.

One way to remain famous, you considered. A dramatic death.

Not that you were famous. You weren’t part of the national circuits. Just your local theatres, a common face and body to the sinners of Louisiana’s most infamous city. But, well, fame is relative. For the scene you were in, you were your own little star.

A shining light. Shimmering. The faint light reflecting off— Blood. For a second you could only remember looking through bloodied, heavy lashes.

“You’ve been so out of it. Trouble in paradise?” Ruth, the curviest of your coworkers and arguably the favorite of the crew, rested her chin on your head. Looking at each other in the mirror, you offered a soft smile.

“I’ll letcha know when I get there.”

She pinched your cheek, “Tommy said you had a new guy. I just figured-,”

“That isn’t,” you clenched your eyes shut, “no, no guy. I just got locked out last night in the alley. The sticky-,” sticky and viscous blood, “back door wouldn’t open up. I didn’t want to come in the front in my slippers so I just hoofed it home.”

She patted your head, “if you say so! Be careful out there though. Dangerous these days.”

An understatement.

You enjoyed the spotlight, but more than that you craved the attention doted on you after. You’d walk through the hall to the bar to adoring looks and free drinks. It bothered you that Tommy was telling the girls you had a man. You didn’t want to appear too closed off, or for word to spread to the customers.

Last thing you needed was men passing you by for more available options. Not that the pay wasn’t fine. Ends were being met, but grifting added an element of thrill. You really did love the chase. Finding someone and deciding he would be yours, he would fall under your spell and be at your feminine mercy. It made you feel powerful, almost mythical. And the money was nice. Sometimes you didn’t even need to steal, the men would just lavish you in gifts and you’d let it fizzle out naturally. Normally their wives would snatch them back or they’d just get tired of waiting for you to leave the stage and dance into their domestic dreams. A housewife? An adopted mother to a grown man during the day, a hungry nymph at night? For what, an allowance and a home you didn’t own? Pass. Where’s that handsome man with his knife? That was a much better steel to fall onto than what these men offered from their laps.

From your view at the bar you knew he wasn’t there. But with a nod you decided the chase was still on. You were going to get your victory. If anything, this would be easier. You had dirt on him. Blackmail would be simple enough. Bloody clothes and the perfect alibi; being a woman. No cop would think you took down that hulking man.

Ah, right. There was no body.

That would be an issue. He had to have taken it somewhere. Just find him and follow. Worst case scenario, you play the usual game and steal whatever cash was in his wallet.

Well, worst case you die.

You slept sitting up to keep your hair set, during the day your makeup barely was there but a red lip always the star. You had three nice dresses (well, you had had four) so you figured three nights to find him before moving on.

You slinked through the crowds of the hot and sweaty dance club Moxie. Swinging music kept bodies moving, and though you kept your eyes open you didn’t catch sight of this Alastor fellow. Which was fine! You enjoyed a few dances, swing always making you feel energized. Not a waste of a Friday night.

Saturday was easy, the lounge on fifth. Smooth jazz, plush chairs, rich men. Definitely a place you could imagine Smiles to frequent. The whisky was all top shelf, and many gentlemen offered you a lap to sit. Sure, no Alastor, but you didn’t go home empty handed.

You weren’t a particularly great singer, but if the room was small enough and the piano loud enough, you could please a crowd. Your friend had you on a semi-set schedule most Sundays at her little dive too many blocks from Main Street. Her darling played piano, you sat and sang to the couple dozen patrons stuffed into the one room bar. When you finished your set, you took your bows and looked for your friend. You needed to tell her you wouldn’t be staying.

Your polite nods and gracious thank yous were abruptly ended by a tap on your shoulder, “You dropped this, miss.” You did a mental check of your purse before turning around.

“Oh, a sight for sore eyes. Mr. Alastor.” Your face lit up, you could see it in his glasses.

“You’re too kind. Here, I apologize for the delay. I wanted to return them clean.” In his hand was your yellow handkerchief, folded neatly. You took it and found it uncharacteristically heavy.

When you unfurled it, your brass lighter fell into your waiting palm. Your thumb caressed the engraving.

Alastor watched your face as the lighter tumbled out. “I figured it was important, given the condition and detailing.”

You tested the weight in your hand, “Did you fill it?” You looked to him incredulously. He nodded.

It was a surprisingly kind act, and you needed a second to regain your composure. “I don’t know how to thank you.” Your quick wit failed for a moment, but rebounded fast. “Except with a drink. My treat. To my rescuer.”

He mulled the idea, your reaction to him was interesting. Alastor had thought if he approached you first you’d show a little more fear, or shock. But you looked downright chipper to see him there.

“Unfortunately I don’t have much time tonight. I had just wanted to return your items.”

Your smile dropped. How did he know you were here? Had he been carrying— no, he said he had them cleaned. Had he seen you here before, before the incident? A chuckle, smile brought back, “My luck is terrible. You always flee me. I hope you don’t see my company as deadweight.”

Alastor’s smile twitched, eyes hidden behind the glare of his glasses, “Not at all! I think you’d find I’m quite comfortable with-.”

“Lugging people around?” You said. That constricted pupil again, eyes wild. A chill ran down your spine. Alarms were going off. Wrong answer. You straightened your back, popping the items into your purse, “Next time.”

Alastor nodded, “Yes. Next time, then.”

You fucked it up. You knew you had, but suddenly his words felt like a thinly veiled threat.

You turned to leave and hadn’t seen his smile sour.

It hadn’t been a threat. He hadn’t anticipated you to notice the implication. Most people would have been so blinded by his charm they would fail to notice the glaring red flags. He was mildly impressed. You would be more trouble than he had expected.

Alastor knew he needed to do something about the clearly clever woman who was seemingly expecting him. He had followed you for several days, surprised to find you not spreading word about the murder. You hadn’t spoken to anyone, really. Even the man you left the lounge with, you just smiled and nodded nearly all evening while the man dominated the conversation. So, your sharp wit took him off guard. Who were you pretending to be? And why?

All of your cleverness fell apart when you tried to follow him. It was almost comical. He felt bad. This was going to be embarrassing for you.

He took several right turns and stepped into the park just outside of the bar. You thought perhaps he had gotten lost and considered turning around after you realized you’d lost sight of him. As you passed a large weeping willow, you were pulled under the curtains of hanging moss by your waist.

Back against the large tree, you could only pout.

“What are you after, stalking a man in the dead of night?” Alastor had you pinned, both hands on either side of your head. His body boxed you in, not that there was much more to see than moss and darkness.

You blinked several times. What a question. You answered honestly, “You.” He cocked a brow. Then you lied, “Your affection. Your time.”

Something akin to a giggle bubbled from his chest. “I don’t have much affection, but I have even less time.” Your eyes darted around, looking for your next move. “I-,” you grabbed him by the face and kissed him. When you broke the kiss he was staring wide eyed, glasses askew. He opened his mouth to speak and you kissed him again, longer, harder.

He seemed frozen under your mouth, lips taut. Your hands roamed his face, messing up his hair and glasses. Mind reeling. Play the nymph. Be the whore the men always said they hated. Be too strong, too forward, too much and he’ll run off like men do. You could try again another day.

Your hand reached for his lap, his hips instinctively jerking away. Perfect. Men these days can’t get it up for a woman who takes the lead.

Alastor was entirely unsure what the fuck was happening. You were wildly unpredictable. When you grabbed at his dick, he thought his eyes would cross from the shock. Is this what ‘affection’ meant to you? He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t understand you. Were you really just lustful? Even after what you’d seen him—

You bit at his bottom lip, pulling slightly. Big eyes looking back at him. Your breath was already running away from you, adrenaline seemingly synonymous with Alastor. Staring up at him, you waited. His move.

It was his turn to blink. He looked off to his left, eyes swinging back to you. With a shrug, he leaned his body back towards yours. His hand slid down the front of your dress; red silk. A deer in the headlights, you tensed. The rare third option; fight, flight, freeze. Soon his fingers were tracing the lace of your stockings, climbing up the garter straps.

His eyes were studying your face. You didn’t want to give the wrong answer again, but at this point you weren’t sure any answer was right. This was taking a sudden turn and your foot was off the brake. You closed your eyes, opting out of the scrutiny of his stare. His hand met your stomach and began to slip down again. He rested it between your thighs, longer fingers and palm cupping the entirety of your sex.

Alastor struggled to decipher your expression. It was almost like a pout, but more subtle. You hadn’t said stop or pushed him away yet. Was he right? You were just… horny? As his hand slid back up and pried their way into your panties, you trembled.

It had been so long since someone else’s hand was on you. Someone whose hands you genuinely enjoyed, who you wanted to be on you.

Is that right? You wanted him to touch you?

Maybe it was the stare, or the smile. Probably just the adrenaline.

His hand found its place again, middle finger bending to part your folds and feel your wetness. You whimpered, hand coming to cover your own mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” He said it low, a husky tone he didn’t have before.

No. Maybe. You nodded yes.

“Will you be satisfied now? No more tailing me?”

No. Probably not. Another nod.

His finger pushed in, and with a kind of greed you didn't recognize your hips ground down into his palm. He slipped in and out of you with ease. You had no idea when or why you got so wet.

“I always end up dripping around you, Alastor,” you whispered through your fingers. His ring finger joined. Why couldn’t you shut up? Why did you have to bring up, well, the murder?

“A common problem for those I take an interest in.”

Oh no. You moaned softly into your hand. Sharp mind made dull by his fingers so you didn’t, couldn’t, process his double meaning.

Oh no. The sounds of footsteps, a pair of lovers sneaking into the park for privacy. You heard their giggles, the sounds of kisses interrupting their walking.

“Shhh”, he breathed into your ear as he worked a third finger into your heat. One knuckle, two knuckles. A whimper. His hand came to press down over your own on your mouth, a second barrier for your mewling. You groaned, the sound coming from your throat.

Whispers. The silhouette of the two interlopers was visible through the willow’s curtains. You watched from over his shoulder, pussy clenching around him. Three knuckles deep, bottoming out.

Fuck it. You moaned freely into your hand, wiggling down onto his hand. Hips rolling, you let your little sounds of praise flow.

The couple laughed, “That’s the spirit!” A man said, a woman hushing him and pulling him away.

Alastor grinned into your neck, immensely amused. He would have better luck predicting a dice roll than your next move.

You hadn’t realized how hollow you’d been until now, feeling so full. When alone, you focused on just cumming, fingers on your clit and mind on memories. You never bothered much with anything else.

Your hunger intensified. You wanted more. Both hands reached for his crotch again, finding nothing there for you. You could have cried. How were you a wet mess pressed against a tree and he was soft as a newspaper in a rainstorm?

Your pride stung. Men usually stood at attention around you. A half sob into the air earned you a chuckle from Alastor. ��It’s no reflection of you, darling.” His nose nudged your ear lobe, “I need a little different stimulation than most.”

“Do you play for the other team?” You considered how you could momentarily switch.

A louder laugh, “I don’t have a team.” He leaned back now to look at you. His freehand came to press on your lower stomach, gently pushing your womb down. Your brows knit, why did that feel so good? Hands going to the tree behind you for stability.

“Sure feels like you know how to play. This is-,” his hand switched from thrusting slowly in and out to moving front and back. It sent vibrations up into you. Your eyes rolled close. Shut up. Stop talking. Focus. Close.

He kissed around your open mouth, “Well, it’d be unamerican to not dabble. When necessary, or when the conditions are right.”

Double speak over, “Just tell me what to do to get you to fuck me.”

Alastor’s head fell back as he laughed earnestly, most likely alerting anyone in the immediate area. “Ha! No, this is more fun.”

“Oh fuck you,” you brought a hand around to your throbbing clit to quicken your release.

“Maybe next time, dear.” He took a second, fingers in you sliding around your walls in search of something before finding his place and continuing. Your breath noticeably changed, instead of panting you were practically holding it in. You needed the pressure, you needed something to squeeze that spring of pleasure down so it could snap back. As your face went flush, he kissed at your temple, “You look so pretty in red.”

“Oh god-,” Your head fell onto his chest, your joint effort bringing you to orgasm.

“A little late on Sunday for prayers, don't you think?”

A tiny scream into his suit pocket, his hand not stopping until your thighs finished twitching around him. Even after his hand stopped moving you gripped him by the wrist and rolled onto his fingers a few more times. The pleasure ebbing but still spiking every time he moved against you.

Ah, greed. That was it. He understood a little better. This wasn’t lust, not alone. You were definitely a mix of the two. With a sigh, you released your hold and let him slide out of you. Already you felt lonelier. Already you wished to start over.

With his dry hand he smoothed out your dress. You weren’t ashamed but you suddenly felt too embarrassed to look him the eye. But you did, hearing him hum as he sucked his fingers clean.

Why were you only ever in his mouth in the strangest ways?

“You always taste so sweet, dear. Now!” You wanted to say something clever and salacious like, ‘there’s more where that came from’ but he didn’t afford you the opportunity. He offered you his hooked arm, “It’s dangerous in the park at night. Let’s get you to a cab and on your way home.”

“Is this a hobby of yours?” Your legs were wobbly but otherwise fine. “Illegal activities in public?”

“Funny, I was just wondering the same of you. Stalking is a crime, dear.”

You bit your lip. “Touché.”

He flagged down a taxi, “Tell him where to go.” You slid into the back seat and half-whispered to the driver. Alastor leaned into the passenger side front window and after paying the man, went to close your door, “You’ve been an entertaining sparring partner. Goodbye, sweetheart.”

With a thud of the door and a growl of the engine, you were driving away from him. You could see him in the rear window. He didn’t dare to move, he didn’t need you following another step of his.

Which was unfortunate for him, as you were already scheming how to find him again.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @angelicwillows

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan ,@valkyrie-expeditions

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kunaigirl · 1 year ago

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Happy Disability Pride and awareness month! Let's talk about Epilepsy!

Hi there! I got tired of seeing my condition (that impacts my literal every day life) being left out or forgotten about during discussions about disabilities, so I made my own post about it! Let's go!

First Off! What the heck is epilepsy? Epilepsy is the fourth most common neurological disorder in the world, and it's a chronic medical condition. Epilepsy is a brain disorder that causes recurring, frequent, triggered, and unprovoked seizures to occur.

The official Epilepsy Foundation describes seizures as follows: "Seizures are sudden surges of abnormal and excessive electrical activity in your brain, and can affect how you appear or act. Where and how the seizure presents itself can have profound effects...Seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness." (Source link)

Sounds like a lot of fun right? This is our life. Even with medication, we can be VERY limited to what can be safe for us. Seizure medications are NOT a cure, they only exist (at least as of now) as a tool to help have your seizures less often, or be triggered less intensely. Even on medication, seizures can still happen.

If you have epilepsy as a child like I did, it impacts your entire growing and developing experience. I spent MANY times as a child in and out of hospitals, neurologist and specialist offices, an getting so many EEG tests done. The pain of scrubbing the glue out of your hair for DAYS is horrible.

At a young age my seizures were so frequent and serious, it impacted my brain's ability to retain information. I had to re-learn the names of things at age 8 and 9. I had to re-learn HOW TO READ at age 10. I had to be home schooled because the public school system of my state at the time refused to work with me. I have VERY distinct and vivid memories of crying over my little baby ABC's book that I needed as a 4th and 5th grader. I knew I should've known this by this age. I knew that at one point I already did, and it was TAKEN FROM ME.

As an adult, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE A CAR. And I can NEVER go to see a movie in theaters or go to see concerts or live music. There are entire TV shows I don't get to see. I can't go to clubs, arcades, dances, or raves. I miss out on A LOT of fun things. I always do, and I'm WELL AWARE of the fun I'm missing out on. The social, casual, and fun life experiences I'll never get to have. That WE'LL never get to have. And oh yeah! Seizures can KILL SOME OF US. Yep.

And the list goes on, and every person with epilepsy experiences it differently. There are multiple different types of seizures you can have, they're NOT always convulsing on the floor. For example, I have complex-partial-myoclonic-seizures. Meaning my muscles DO twitch when I have seizures, but I'm not always completely unconscious and sometimes I'm even able to stay sitting up. However, I'm still very "off" and can't focus or remember much for a good while after the fact. I can't talk or communicate during one, even with my slight bit of consciousness.

My experiences are not universal, I just wanted to talk about it and bring it up. It helps to talk about it even a little bit. Here's more about different kinds of seizures. Here's more about common seizure triggers. Here's more about CORRECT seizure first aid. And here's more general information/resources.

Please stop leaving us out of disability awareness. Please stop ignoring us or saying we're "not really disabled" or anything else like that. Please. Why does it always feel like the only people who care about epilepsy, are people WITH epilepsy? We're so tired of being ignored by others who don't have our condition.

If you're an epileptic person reading this, I see you. I love you. You're so strong, we all are. I believe in you, I believe in us. We're so much stronger than we get credit for, and it's going to be ok. Your anger and frustration are valid. Your emotions and struggles are real. You're valid, and I see you. Hang in there, we got this.

#epilepsy #epilepsy awareness #actually epileptic #disability pride month #disability awareness month #disability awareness #ok to reblog #disability pride

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r--kt · 8 months ago

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Do you like Kakashi's dogs? Let's talk about why there are eight of them.

another example of naruto's ✨cultural code✨

contents | the eight dog warriors chronicles · legacy · eight confucian virtues. also look at the cuties love them sm

Naruto Vol. 10 CH 90

[ one dog is wonderful, I'm saying as the owner of a sweet little york terrier. two dogs are good, they won't be bored together. three dogs? yeah, cool! how are you going to walk them though? four? yes... look, maybe we have to draw the line h- wha- EIGHT? Excuse Me!? ]

surely, it's worth starting with the fact that eight is a lucky number in Japanese culture — everybody watched Hachi. of course, this is not the only cultural detail where the eight is mentioned. I want to pay special attention to a thing that I didn't know about until I googled it, and this is clearly what Kishimoto was doing homage to with Kakashi's eight ninken.

The Eight Dog Warriors Chronicles

Better known as Nansō Satomi Hakkenden. and it's not just some kind of book, it's a novel, consisting of 106 booklets written by Kyokutei Bakin in XIX century. Hakkenden is considered the largest novel in the history of Japanese Literature. this is one of the main representatives of the gesaku genre, which includes works of a frivolous, joking, silly nature. further I will emphasize a few more times how damn popular this work is and how often it is reflected in culture.

here are some illustrations for these books

now let's talk about the plot. It's weird, but it's weird at samurai-dogs-story level so stay here.

In brief, the story tells about the commander Satomi Yoshizane, whose native lands were attacked by the army of a man, whose forces surpassed those of Satomi, and the samurai in despair swore to a dog named Yatsufusa that the dog would get his beloved daughter Fuse as a wife if he chewed that man's throat. surprisingly, the dog not only understood the owner, but also fulfilled his wish! after that the commander refused to keep the promise. however, Fuse, true to her word of honor, went with Yatsufusa to the mountains and became his wife. upon learning that his daughter was pregnant, Satomi, in a rage, sent a samurai to kill Yatsufusa and bring Fuse home. she stood up for the dog anyways and died with him. at that moment, eight pearls with hieroglyphs that denoted the foundations of Confucian virtue burst out of her womb. (...cheers for mythology, I guess)

Soon, eight dog warriors who were Fuse's spiritual children were born in different parts of Awa province. after going through hardships, they got together and became vassals of the Satomi clan, then won the battle, and soon reached peace.

some more illustrations made by Utagawa Kuniyoshi. from left to right: Inukawa Sōsuke (the dog warrior), Inumura Daikaku (the dog warrior), Princess Fuse (their mother).

the novel mainly tells about each individual warrior dog and his shenanigans in a funny adventurous way. huge fame has led to excerpts from Hakkenden being staged at the Kabuki Theater and mentioned in the anime and manga, such as Inuyasha, Dragon Ball, as it turned out, Naruto and so on. there's also a lot of films and video games.

The eight virtues

these are loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, love, honesty, justice, harmony, and peace.

they relate more to Chinese culture, but basically Hakkenden was inspired by it too. since I did not read the whole novel, I would still like to mention at least the values on which it is based, and which were embedded in the symbolism of this story. It's quite interesting to apply this to Kakashi's dogs. gives them more weight and depth.

It is also interesting to note that the reason why Fuse gave birth to dogs was also that her father was cursed earlier in the story in a way that his descendants would become depraved like dogs. in Japanese culture, dogs embody the duality of character: the same mentioned filth and depravity, and devotion and bravery. so as samurai. but this is a different conversation, more related to Kakashi and his dog poetry.

Did you get here? Here's an additional discovery for you✨

Pakkun's name (パックン) is derived from the Japanese onomatopoeia “pakupaku” (パクパク) which reflects the sound of munching.

Kakashi, that's very sweet of you.

thank you for reading this to the end ♡

#kakashi hatake #kakashi #naruto #naruto shippuden #Kakashi's dogs

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kysslasher · 6 months ago

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KEEPSAKE:: leon kennedy

WARNING:: 80's au, playboy! Re2!Leon, car sex, riding, hair pulling, oral, fingering, teasing, fingering, slight edging, overstimulation, slight rejection, teasing, sexual tension

SUMMARY:: after a failed date you expect some sort of a reward for putting up with Leon who still seems to be hung up on his ex.

Leon Kennedy has been on many dates. One would even say that he has hooked up half of the girls after a date— which were all unsuccessful. It's not that there was anything wrong in particular with the people he has taken out, it's just that none of them have piqued his interest for a second one. And it just so happens that you had been taken on one of said dates.

When Leon asked you out on a date to the movies and dinner you hadn't expected the movie to be some trashy chic flick about an American actress going to Italy and falling in love with her friend's married Italian lover. It dragged on for 2 hours and you couldn't stand to sit through the first minute of opening credits. But not only did you sit through a silent car ride on your way to the restaurant but when you sat inside the restaurant it felt like this terrible date would never end.

"I used to be on the basketball before I graduated and I started working with my friend, she's really cool- she even has a neck tattoo" he rambled on and on for what felt like a lifetime. Only nodding off as he rambled on and on about working at the old movie theater and something about how his manager only shows up to be a dick.

But low and behold the lovely waitress with a tight lipped smile "would you like your bill.. or would you like me to swing by a little later?" She asked politely looking at the both of you. "You can give us our check now" you answered quickly before pulling 30 dollars out of your pocket when the check was set on the table.

Once Leon had caught his eyes on the cash in your hand he shook his head "you don't have to pay, what kind of guy would I be to make you pay for your food?" He says patting his pockets which makes you roll your eyes "it's fine" you reply flatly pressing the 20 and 10 dollar tip onto the wooden table and like second nature stood from the worn out booth walk to the class doors pushing them open and making a b-line to the boys nice and shining Pontiac.

Leon grew up coddled, he was popular in high school, he had the cutest girl in his grade. Now he's digging it with girls who never made it past the first date because he never could find a bond with them, while working at the local theater and losing all cool points he's earned on his way up in high school. Well on your end you didn't care for his past reputation, you didn't care for this date and the fact that you haven't had an ounce of fun since you had walked past your front porch was eating you up inside.

When you heard keys jangling in an instant you turned your head being met with Leon walking over to the drivers side of the car. Unlocking the doors you both get in and once the car starts you fiddle with the radio never wanting to sit through silence and letting the hum of the radio come out softly through the speakers.

You were so caught up in your thoughts you had failed to realize how dark it had started to get, the once blue sky turned to deep orange and yellow hues. Watching as the power lines zipped past you in a blur, if you were going to sit in this car you would be damned if you had to sit in awkward silence and do nothing.

Just as Leon had turned onto the highway the road seemingly empty as it got darker out and the headlights of his car lighting up the black asphalt on the road. Your view flickering between the road and Leon who was watching the road with one hand on the wheel as the other slumped against the middle console.

The sight of his thighs sat stiffly while his jaw clenched. "Leon, if you're not over your ex why'd you ask me on a date?" You ask curiously as you tilt your head leaning in a bit pressing the swell of your chest against his hand on the console. "What? I'm over my ex, I have been for a while now. What makes you say that?" He asks as he sputters over his own words at the thought of being hung up over his ex.

"You haven't asked a single thing about me on this date. You really only talked about you, and might I add you even talked about your coworker which really doesn't help your case at all" you say flatly. "Seriously?! I am over my ex I swear" his voice goes up a few octaves higher as he tries to think of something that obscure the idea.

"When was the last time you slept with someone and actually enjoyed it then?" You ask with a twisted grin on your lips. You knew the answer but you wanted to hear it from him, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing the words yourself from his lips. "I don't know? And I'll have you know that I have had great sex without my ex" he snarked at you.

"Yeah your words aren't very convincing like... at all" you say as you push your legs under your thighs "I can change that you know? I don't know if by the end of it you'll even be thinking about her but...I'll occupy your head for a bit" you say, trailing your hand into his lap and rubbing against his thigh.

"What are you doing?" He scoffed as his eyes flicker from his lap with your hand trailing closer to his bulge earning a small gasp from him eliciting a small giggle from your lips loud enough to hear over the buzzing music. "Just keep looking at the road" you whisper as you press your lips to his warm cheek.

Your hand moving closer to his half hard crotch clad in jeans as you palm him, the feeling of fabric pressed against him has him groaning and running a hand through his dark hair in exasperation. "It's not really a good idea to be doing this... while I'm driving" he reasons, which makes you shake your head with a soft smile. "Then focus" you look up at him while your hands move to unzip his pants and unbutton them as well letting him lift his hips while you pull down his jeans far enough over his thighs.

"Shit" he harshly whispers at the feeling of your wet palm wrapping around his cock leaking precum and glistening under the orange and yellow street lights on the side of the road. Taking his cock into your fist, slowly jerking and teasing the tip with your thumb has the boy biting his plump lips while choking back a small groan.

The feeling of your warm tongue has the boy breathing heavily as his foot presses onto the gas harder spreading the car up. "Ease up, you want the car ride to last don't you?" You ask as you look up at him, your tongue pressing flatly against his tip and taking him deeper, letting your lips wrap around him.

The warmth of your mouth around him almost has his eyes rolling, letting his hand rest on the back of your head, needing to push your head down further but letting you slowly take him into the back of your throat as the tip of your nose brushes against his stomach.

Pulling back slowly you began to bob your head, the wet sound of your mouth around his cock has him light headed as he drives slower than he normally would on the highway. Flexing his thighs as the feeling "You're so good at this- fuck y/n" he moaned as his jaw slacks at the feeling of your tongue running against the vein on the underside of his cock that had him nearly shivering.

"keep going. Don't stop" he groaned, letting his head fall back. His hair messily pushed against his forehead as it was soaked from the sweat building at his hairline and his eyes rolled back "you're gonna make me cum" he says breathily as he pushes your hair out of your way turning it into a makeshift ponytail.

Using your hand you hollow your cheeks as your hand takes care of what your mouth wasn't and it had him absolutely lost, still trying to focus on the road he makes a turn to the next exit and choosing to go the longer route to your house.

His breathing becomes more and more unhinged as you use both your hands to jerk him off and licking his tip has him moaning while almost swerving into a random mailbox catching himself before doing so. "I'm so close" he moaned as he clutched your hair tighter realizing how agonizing it felt when you hadn't changed your pace at all.

"Please go faster" he begged, making you smile a bit as you moved your hands away from him completely and taking him into your mouth while he bucked his hips desperately for a release. you could, feeling the tip nudge the back of your throat while your nose was nestled tightly against his pubic bone. While your eyes are closed tight to focus on relaxing your gag reflex to not ruin the tight feeling for him you move faster hoping that would push him over the edge.

"Oh- fuck" he gasped as he gripped the wheel tighter as he felt his orgasm crash on him like a ton of bricks. "I can't...I can't keep driving or I'm gonna crash- fuck" he whined as he pulls onto the side of the road and cutting the lights and engine. The only sounds that could be heard were Leon's heavy breathing.

Watching as you pull back with glossy eyes as your cheeks and chin covered in spit and cum which has his head pulled back against the headrest completely dazed. "You okay?" You ask as you wipe off your face with small puffs of laughter falling past your lips. "I'm good...really good" he says with a faint smirk.

"I wanna make you feel good too" he says, his eyes trailing over to your fully clothed figure, your eyes low and red almost as if you had been high, lips puffy and swollen. "You can do that" you nod as you manage to crawl over the middle console and sit against his thighs, your skirt riding up your legs.

"You're so wet" he whispered as he felt the warmth of your slick panties stick against his skin making you look down where you had been sat with slight embarrassment. His finger rubs against your clothes slit watching as the wet patch on your panties becomes bigger. Pressing his thumb down on your clit had a moan falling past your lips as your hand trails to his wrist pulling his hand past the waist band on your panties.

"I need you, here." You mumbled as you felt his nimble fingers running against your slit making you whine desperately. Grinding against his fingers you can hear his laughing breathily as he watches you fall apart on top of him. "I'd call you desperate if I didn't want to fuck you so bad" he says as he presses his forehead against yours, watching the way you get off could make him cum untouched.

"Just shut up" you whined out with a small gasp pressing your lips against his hungrily your hand raking through his hair, your tongues lapping against the others and sucking on his pulling away with a small 'pop' you bite your lip as you keep eye contact with him. "Fuck this feels so good" you whisper your forehead still pressed against his as he rubs your clit in figure 8's.

"Yeah?" He asks as he pulls his hand away and out of your panties earning a small whine from you. His fingers pushing your panties to the side. "Why?" You practically cry out. Leon's eyes never leaving yours watching them gloss over from the loss of pleasure. "I want you to cum with me" he says just above a whisper while he takes his length into his hand pumping himself a few times before pressing his tip against your entrance and with a harsh hiss he's slowly pushing inside your tight walls.

The warm and wet feeling has him drunk on the feeling of you around him. Pushing his seat back far enough that both of you are comfortable as Leon watches you grind your hips against him slowly as he bottoms out inside you, the feeling being all too good for his liking.

"It's so big" you groan as your hands press against his abdomen lightly bracing yourself to start moving. The soft thudding of your thighs meeting against yours sends goosebumps all over your skin. Leon couldn't possibly keep his hands to himself as he finds the hem of your shirt and pulls it over your head.

"No bra?" He groaned watching as your bare chest bounced with every movement you made which has you smiling with your lip caught between your teeth. "You're so big" you slur seeing how good he filled you up to the brim your arms wrap around his neck your foreheads pressed together as you watch his begin to slowly move. Leon couldn't get enough of the sight as his cock disappeared inside your Pussy.

His cock buried deep inside you that you moan and dig crescent shaped dents into his skin. set a pace for bouncing in his lap. The feeling of your velvety walls tightening around making him choke back a moan.

"Oh- god" you whisper shakily. His hands holding onto your hips guiding a pace, the soft sound of skin slapping with your small moans reverberated through the car.

You looked so good with your chest bouncing and your hair all messy. You looked good with a small sheen of sweat on your skin and your makeup smeared, he was addicted to the sight.

He slowly thrusts into you letting you get used to his size not realizing you were beginning to bounce yourself on his lap desperate to feel pleasure. His pace practically teases you and shows you how desperate you really are from your small moans whimpers.

Leon; eager to let his load off inside you, holds your thighs stopping you from bouncing any longer and begins to thrust his hips up into you. The feeling of his tip pushing at your cervix.

His hips pushing into you as your thighs and ass jiggle at the repetitive thrusts "oh my god!" You moan as you feel him pounding in a certain part of your walls. You tighten around him as your essence forms a white ring around the base of his dick.

"Just like that" you babble mindlessly as his stomach churns at the words spewing out. "Yeah? Want me to fill you up with my cum?" he groans as the knot in your stomach begins to tighten and Leon's death grip on the fat of your thighs almost sends you over the edge if it wasn't for how hard he was pounding you.

he placed his hand on your ass, kneading the flesh harshly as whimpers left his lips at the feeling of your walls closing around him. "Just like that, yes, please please please!!" You beg, feeling yourself getting closer and closer as he punctuates his thrusts. You pull his hair, again and again, harder and you can't help but become more aroused from the sounds he lets fall from his lips.

Sitting up completely Leon doesn't hesitate to kiss against your warm skin, from the valley between your breast to sucking on your nipples, the warmth of his mouth has you utterly out of it while you fuck yourself on his cock begging for some sort of release. The sloppy sounds make your head spin, your hand trailing from his hair to between the both of you.

Rubbing your clit in hopes that this would send you closer to your orgasm. "Fuck- oh fuck" he moaned against your chest as you clench around him as he felt absolutely pussy drunk with you on top of him. Leon could barely comprehend a thing as he stops you all together.

"Get up" he said breathlessly as you push yourself off of his lap, you slowly start to crawl back into the passenger seat thinking even the sex was a complete bust. But the feeling of his hands on your waist keeps you from moving. "Bend over into the seat" he says moving out of your way as you feel a smirk on your pretty lips.

With your back arched and your face pushed against the headrest you knew that you were done for, Leon pushing inside you again and without a care in the world thrusts into you at the same pace he was going before.

"Harder- please" you moan out as the windows begin to fog over, Leon begins to buck his hips into you at a faster pace as the slick sound of your pussy and precum mix loudly along with the patterning of your thighs slapping against his. You feel ecstasy at the way he made you feel so full.

His large hands onto your spine as making your chest push into the seat, not that you minded at all. Leon from behind absolutely loses his mind as his fingers card through his brown locks. Fucking into you with harsh and sharp thrusts that have your toes curling. Your ass bouncing against his lap has him tossing his head back leaving a stinging sensation in both of your thighs.

you begin to bounce and grind against him to meet his hips. It felt like he was in your stomach and you didn't mind at all, your hands the seat tighter as he used his other hand to wrap around your throat pulling your back against his chest.

"Aw look at you, all fucked out. What would your friends think about me bending you over in my car and fucking you like a slut hm?" He asks as his grip around your throat tightens, you couldn't even gather your words as he hits a spot that has you breathing shakily and your moans are even more louder.

"Right here? Does it feel good here?" He asks as he drags his cock against that same spot again and again "yeah, it feels so fucking good Leon" you moan as your eyes roll back. The feeling of his sweet lips on your skin as you feel like you're in heaven.

Your thighs are practically shaking at the feeling, pleasure practically taking over your body as Leon pounds you into his front seat without a single care in the world. Pushing your face against the seat while he becomes sloppy and rougher with every passing second you could feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach growing and waiting to be released.

"I can't take it" you moan as you shake your head "I'm gonna cum" you whimper as you feel warm tears slide down your cheeks. "I think you can baby, you wanna cum so bad right? So take what I give you" he orders sweetly in a faux tone. His thrusts are non stop and you can't help but let the pleasure envelope you.

"Oh fuck" you gasp as the feeling of release comes closer "cum for me. I know you can" he coos at you while pulling your hips into his harder than before tipping you over the edge as your walls clench around him sporadically earning a guttural moan ripping through his throat.

"I'm close, where do you want it?" He asks as he continues to fuck into you "inside. Please cum inside me" you whimpered before you felt the pressure in your stomach let loose "I got you, you're okay" he praised as his fingers rubbed down your spine leaving goosebumps up and down your body.

A few more thrusts slow and deep have your toes curling and sending Leon into an orgasm struck daze. "Fuck you feel so good" he groans as his hands rub against the red warm skin of your ass. Leaning of you and kissing up your spine as you both bask in your pre orgasm clarity.

"I see why so many girls like you Leon" you say breathlessly with a smile making him chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair slowly pulling out of you with a hiss due to loss of warmth. "Well it's a pleasure to live up to your standards" he says as he reaches into his glove box and pulls out wipes cleaning you up.

The both of you getting dressed again and seated, Leon starts the car and the both of you are back on the road with the faint sound of music filling the air as the both of you exchange small words every few minutes until Leon turned on the road your house was located.

Pulling into your gravel driveway he parks and opens his door walking onto your side and opening it offering a hand which makes your brows shoot up at the sudden chivalry, taking his hand and shutting the door behind you he walks you to your fronts door and as you turn to look at him you see the small smile on his lips. "So...this was nice" he says as he looks down at his feet.

It wasn't.... Not until the both of you had sex in the back of his car at least. "Right... just- let me know when you get over Ada" you pat his chest with an awkward grin on face as you watch his head fall back letting out a groan. "I told you. I'm over her- seriously we broke up and I haven't talked to her since" he shakes his head.

You could tell by the tone in his voice he wasn't, but Leon was eager to see you again so it meant he was moving on. One step forward. "Let me know when you're ready for something serious, Kennedy."

You snap your fingers as you give yourself an idea, your hands find themselves under your skirt which had Leon in a small shock at your actions seeing a flash of your pink panties as you pull them down your legs and balling it in your hand. "Until then have the panties as a keepsake to get off whenever you like" you say, stuffing the ball of wet fabric into his pockets. and with that you leave him at your front door with his hand in his pockets clutching your frilly panties.

Opening the door and shutting it behind you Leon stands at your doorstep biting his lip turning on his heel and walking back to his car watching how the windows were still a bit foggy. Opening the driver side to the door and sitting down in his seat he sighs, dragging his finger across the glass in the shape of a U and to small dots in the shape of the tip of his index finger a smiley face left behind.

"I gotta get her on that second date" he huffed to himself as he pulled out of the driveway of your home.

#𖦹—(ifuckslasherz)#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon smut

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bitchimasnake-sss · 7 months ago

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i love from me to you sm! 😭 like it aimed directly to my heart 😭 you're so good at writing stuff so, here i am asking for a zoro!fic where reader hides that she got wounded during their last battle and zoro founds out and our poor moss head thought reader was gonna die so, he confessed (i just love flustered zoro) 😚 n e ways, continue writing the best stories!! lotsoflove! - glasses of nanamin

i feel like this is your second ask cause of the "n e ways" but lol, eitherways that's such a cute concept!! i would love love love this (i tweaked the prompt a little bit to fit it better, but i hope you like it it still)

got me losin' my cool ft. roronoa zoro!

set-up: as anon asked!! you get hurt during a fight and zoro almost has a mental breakdown haha live, laugh, love <3

warning: a bit of angst, zoro is a dumbass. otherwise, wholesome!

roronoa zoro's feet pound against the earth and he was sure that with every leap he took, his heart sunk further under. his fingers were clammy. so very clammy against your soft skin. and he was sure the sweat dripping off his forehead and dropping onto your bloodied tank top was the last thing you wanted to see before you died.

"zo—" you rasped helplessly and your voice felt like graters against his skin. your chapped lips, almost closed eyes, the wound on your stomach and your week, blood-stained hand on it. he couldn't even bear to look at you without wanting to breakdown.

"stop talkin, please." he clenched his jaw tighter, the sound of teeth against teeth jarring. and although he refused to look down at you, cradled carefully in his arms, he could hear the desperate heaves that rocked your body.

he picked up the pace, ducking under hanging vines and leaping over overgrown roots of ancient trees carefully, so, as to not hurt you. the ship should be two minutes away, docked at the edge of the island and chopper must be there. and chopper would know what to do. how to help you.

zoro had to just deliver you to chopper.

but with his poor geographical skills, he felt like he had been running for the past thirty minutes without finding the ship. and he was certain the ship was docked only 10 minutes away from where the fight was taking place between the strawhat crew and a local pirate crew.

"zoro—" you started again.

why were you speaking? DID YOU WANT TO DIE?

"—don't use up your breath. please." he panted, feet still working to find the ship. where was that goddamn ship?

"that side—" you winced as you pointed your arm in the opposite direction. you coughed, wincing again before whispering, "the sunny."

zoro's head whipped around to look behind him. and at once, he changed the course. running as fast as he could, he soon found himself at the rocky beach the ship had been docked at.

"CHOPPER!" the swordsman bellowed for the mini doctor as he climbed up the ship. the reindeer was peering over the deck and when he looked at your nearly passed-out figure, he yelped in surprise.

"she got stabbed." zoro explained as he carried you inside to chopper's makeshift office/operation theater. laying you down gently, they both looked guilty as you groaned and clutched your own hand on the wound tighter.

"i need to apply some anti-septic, clean the wound and stitch it up." chopper stated, eerily calm in the heat of the moment. "here—" he gave zoro a sterilized cloth from his cupboard, "—apply it to her wound. put pressure on the area, i need to go make the anti-septic really quick."

"you have to make it? how long will that take?" if the swordman wasn't scared out of his wits, he would be surprised at how desperate he sounded.

"five minutes."

zoro looked at the reindeer wide-eyed. but the reindeer ran off, presumably to make the said medicine.

he looked back at you, putting the cloth to the wound and gently pushing down. he knew how to make the bleeding stop, he had done this multiple time. what he hadn't done multiple times was see you so lifeless, so incredibly overtaken by pain.

"hey." he found himself saying softly. softer than he had ever spoken before, "hey, can you look at me? hear me?"

you nodded slowly and relief washed over him. atleast you hadn't lost all cognitive senses.

"just focus on my voice, okay?" he knelt down so that he was on your eye-level from the bed. his other hand gingerly took ahold of yours. mindlessly, he rubbed soothing circles on your skin. he repeated, "just focus on my voice. yeah, close your eyes. i'm here okay?"

you found yourself closing your eyes, relying solely on the darkness of your eyelids and his voice to guide you to safety. his hand felt like a familiar weight against your stomach, the kind of touch that will renew a dead man and get him climbing back from his grave. his voice was sweet, too sweet to be even called his.

"i—" he paused, rubbing your skin with the pad of his thumb, "chopper's gonna fix you up, you know. h-he always does. i mean you're stronger than this. you'd survive, right?"

he's not sure if he meant to ask it as a question. he was sure he had said it to sound reassuring. but somewhere in between him uttering the words and you hearing them, they had turned into a desperate, desolate plea.

your chest fluttered underneath him, your breath strained. the face he adored slowly scrunched up from the pain. and he found himself talking even more.

"focus on me, okay? just me." he steeled his voice. and his nerves. "you'd be okay. you know, you always said you'd make me mochi, you never did. you said you'd make sake flavoured mochi. is that even a thing?" he laughed despite himself. it was barely a laugh. a pitiful scoff maybe? it was not the kind of laugh that would fool you.

"uh— once you get better." he pretended to ignore the way your body seemed to go slack under him. he repeated, "once you get better, i'm gonna convince franky to make us fireworks. you love those. and- and nami. i'd convince that money-hungry witch to lend me some money so that i can take you out. we will go shopping. you always said you—"

why were you so awfully quiet? usually, you'd talk to the point where he wanted to cut his ear off. now, he wanted to her you. he wanted to hear you call him a moss-head like sanji and he wanted you to laugh when he yelled at luffy for doing something stupid. and—

"—hey?" his voice pitched higher, "please wait, chopper will be back yeah?"

but you didn't even shake your head a weak yes. his shaky fingers reached out to look for your pulse on your neck. it was there. feeble, but there. but for how long?

how long till he lost you?

his throat was closing up, he couldn't breathe. his eyes burned and he was sure he was gonna mark your skin with his own from the way he held onto your wrist.

why won't you talk to him? call out his name, god fucking dammit. nobody called his name the way you did. as if you liked the syllables enough to make a home out of them. nobody smiled at him the way you did. so sweet, too sweet for him. you were everything. even though he was just another wrecked, broken boy with dreams too big for his mortal body, you were everything.

"please," he clutched onto you like a maddening bastard, "please. just hold on, okay?"

but bile seemed to crawl farther up his throat every time you didn't respond. not even a slight glance. not even the movement of a pinky. his fingers checked for your pulse. faint, but there.

and he couldn't hold his words back. he called out your name in a desperate effort to awaken you. water blurred his vision and he blinked it away. his throat was scratchy. too scratchy. and where was chopper?

"i love you." he finally confessed, not thinking much of his words than the fact that he just wanted you to hear them. "i love you so much. i have for so long. i-it wasn't supposed to be like this. i- i was gonna take you out to explore some island. i would have bought you food and called you an idiot when you smiled at me. then— then." he paused, "i would have told you i loved you. you would have said nothing back. and i would have loved even despite that."

he called out your name, sobs racking through his body like accursed symphonies.

"move." chopper was back, in his hand was a ceramic bowl with a green, gooey paste. "go out. i'd call you back, okay?"

if chopped noticed the state zoro was in, he simply chose not to dwell on it. and if zoro had any residual doubts for what kind of a doctor chopper was, he didn't dwell on them either. he caressed your hand one last time and stepped out.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

the swordsman had been pacing around the deck. none of the members were back and it gnawed on his heart. what if they were hurt too? should he go back to see? but how could he leave chopper and you alone here? and what kind of a first mate was he if he cannot even save his own crew?

the world's greatest swordman be damned.

chopper stepped out and zoro looked at the doctor, frantic. chopper gave him a sigh and chased it with a smile, "she's okay."

zoro was not sure if it was the exhaustion, or the relief, or some other feeling his gut had concocted in him without asking. but he crashed down on his knees. his palms felt rough against his face and when he inhaled, he could smell dried blood on them.

"hey." chopper trotted towards him, keeping his paw on the green-haired man's shoulders, "she's okay, really. they missed any vital spots and she didn't lose a lot of blood. she will heal, okay?"

zoro couldn't do anything but just nod along. then, when he had the courage to look away from his hands. he looked at the doctor, finally muttering a faint "thank you."

the reindeer blushed at the compliment, "don't thank me. but you know, once she's better, you should tell her how you feel. this time maybe while she's conscious."

"chopper." the swordsman groaned.

the reindeer shrugged mechanically, "i won't tell anyone what i heard if you promise to take her out on that date."

after much deliberation— having to choose between humiliation at the hand of his crewmates when they discovered his crush or the humiliation from his crush when he finally confessed— he finally gave in. after all, humiliation from one was better than humiliation from seven. especially that fucking cook.

"fine." he grumbled, "i'd take her out."

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

it had been two weeks since you were stabbed. well, you didn't talk to anyone about it, really. but when you drifted off into the wicked embrace of sleep, you would be plagued by the memories. and well, a confession.

it's not like you were pretending to be dead!! your body had simply given up. it was exhausted from the fighting and the not-dying. so, when you were laid on chopper's bed to be patched up, your body had gone slack. but just because your body had gone slack doesn't mean you weren't awake.

it had been two weeks and you hadn't told the green-haired asshole what you had heard. why? maybe cause you thought he would make the first move. or maybe because you weren't quite sure if he actually said those things or if you hallucinated it to dilute the pain.

eitherways, seemed like things between you and the mosshead were the same as they were before the incident. and you were really starting to consider the hallucination excuse. but then—

"hey." zoro quipped up as he came to stand beside you. it was cloudy today, the grey skies churning in anticipation of a storm. the winds were unkind and the sea was malevolent. beautiful nonetheless.

"oh hey." you turned and gave him a small smile. you shifted from one feet to another, pretending as if you weren't terrified of the route this conversation might take, "whats up?"

"uh—" he looked back for a spilt-second and you saw— from the corner of your eyes— chopper hidden behind a bunch of boxes, giving zoro his best death glare. zoro sighed, "so, uh, this is random, i think? but when we dock on the next island tomorrow morning. do like... do you want to go see some new sword-cleaning equipment with me?"

you shouldn't have laughed. but you did.

"what's funny?!" his eyes widened and his cheeks were dusted pink.

"no-nothing." you heaved, closing your eyes. "that's the best excuse you could come up with? sword cleaning equipment?"

"what do you mean 'excuse'? i need some equipment!"

"zoro." you forced open your eyes, your smile still frozen over your lips, "if you want to go out on a date with me, you should say that okay?"

his ears went red and he looked away. you were sure if the weather was quiet, you could hear his heart picking up the pace. clearing his throat, he finally asked, "who told you? chopper?"

"no, dummy." you reached your hand out, taking his calloused palm in yours. your thumb rubbed familiar patterns on his hand, "you did."

"me?" he snapped to look back at you, "me?"

you just gave him a grin, "this reminds me, i did promise you i'd try making sake flavoured mochi. i never did. but again, you said you'd ask frankie to make us fireworks and we're still firework-less. but hey, i forgive you if you forgive me okay?"

his head could have burst open from the sheer pressure on his brain but you continued, "but eitherways, what i really mean is that if you said i love you." you stepped a bit closer, "i'd say i love you too."

your hand let go of his and you chose to walk away, leaving him dumbfounded. when his senses came to him, he ran upto you, "YOU HEARD THAT ALL?!"

"all of it."

"ugh."

"heh, it was kinda cute."

"i thought you were dying, woman."

"in a way, we all already are."

"have you been hanging out with robin too much? god, kill me."

"god doesn't need to. you're already dying."

"i want to die faster."

you took his hand back in yours and pulled him towards yourself. pecking his cheek, you said, "no. we still have to go on that date. i mean, if you ever actually ask me."

the flustered mess that was rorononoa zoro just sighed. accepting his fate, he asked, "well, do you wanna go on that date or what?"

you snickered, "i'll think about it"

"do you live to annoy me?"

"maybe. but you love meee."

"i might change my mind after this."

but despite his words, his fingers stayed gently intertwined with yours. hey, maybe getting stabbed in the stomach wasn't all that bad? (jk, it was very very bad)

a/n: i love writing stoic men are flustered little guys lmaoo. hopefully y'all like this? i've been writing a lot of fluff/semi-angst lately. i wanna write some nsfw content but im so out of ideas. send reqs if you guys have anything in mind!!

#one piece #opla #op #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #zoro fluff #zoro fic #zoro imagine #one piece x reader

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freedomfireflies · 1 year ago

Text

iFall for Harry | Pt. 10*

Summary: The tenth and final part to iFall for Harry

You and Harry are more than strangers on the phone. And this connection is stronger than ever.

(aka: the one where they fuck and I cry)

Word Count: 5.9k

Harry kicks open your apartment door, and it bangs against the wall as you both smirk into the heated kiss.

His hands never leave your hips. They haven’t left them all afternoon, from the moment the two of you walked out of the theater, all through the entire ride back to your apartment, and up the long flight of stairs to your door.

They guide you to the couch. The first thing he seems to see, and he breaks away from your mouth just long enough to mumble, “Careful.”

Then, he shoves.

Your legs hit the side of the sofa before you go tumbling down onto the soft cushions with a chuckle.

Your fingers instantly outstretch for his shirt to drag him down with you, and he climbs over the armrest in obedience.

You'd decided that this was no time for pleasantries and tours. You’ve wasted enough time already, but…what’s a couple more hours?

Everything is messy and rushed. There’s no place for overthinking or questions. That’ll come later.

Right now, it’s your bodies that need to speak to each other. Not your words.

He moves to your neck, pressing his lips into the skin before nipping at it gingerly. He’s gauging your reaction, and your stomach flips at this consideration.

Your hands disappear into his hair, tugging on the curls you’ve seen plastered on posters and bedroom walls for years.

You smile when you realize how soft they are.

A needy whimper follows when he sucks on the point below your ear, your hips bucking up into his as he settles between your thighs.

And just like that…it hits you.

“It was here,” you whisper suddenly, and he leans back to look at you.

“What?”

You sit up and ghost your lips across his cheek before licking at his bottom lip. “It was here. Right here on this couch. When I touched myself to the sound of your voice.”

Something flashes behind his eyes. Something primal and he squeezes your thigh in his hand before hoisting your leg around his hip.

“Yeah?” A kiss. Hard and full of devious intent. “Right here?”

“Right here,” you whisper. “Still think about it. How good it felt…listening to you. How you sound when you come. How you sound when you make me come.”

He groans as his face buries in your collarbone, his palms now slipping beneath your shirt to travel the expanse of your stomach. Smiling when it quivers. Reveling in the warmth of you.

He kisses along the only exposed part of your chest he can reach, and your head rolls back until you see nothing but stars on your ceiling.

“I think about it, too,” he admits, softly rocking his body against yours until you gasp. “But nothing I pictured came close to this. Nothing…was as good as this.”

You grin as you watch him travel down your body, lifting your shirt just enough that he can press a kiss to the space below your bra.

Then, he looks up. His lips are bright pink, and his cheeks are flushed. His hair is slightly askew but his smile…God, that smile.

“Harry?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along the curve of his chin. “I don’t wanna do it here.”

His eyebrow raises and he begins to sit up, instantly pulling his hands from you. “What’s wrong—”

“Nothing,” you say, taking hold of his jaw to yank him back down and squeeze. “Nothing, I promise. I just wanna go to my room. Wanna be able to see you and feel you. Lay you down, take care of you.”

His expression shifts. There’s so much adoration and arousal written between the lines on his face and without a second thought, he stands.

You’re scooped into his arms as you laugh. He makes sure you’re steady, legs wrapped around his waist, and arms around his neck.

And he kisses you between your instructions on where to turn. Nipping at your lip just to make you whimper.

You’re dropped onto the plush mattress, and he follows suit. Chasing after your kiss and your body as though you’re going to leave him again.

But you aren’t. You can’t. Not even if you wanted to.

“So pretty, ladybug,” he whispers, hand fiddling with the button on your jeans as you whine into his mouth. “So goddamn beautiful. Always knew you would be. Could always tell.”

You’re breathless, barely able to pant out, “Yeah?”

“Mmm. Yeah,” he echoes, tugging on the zipper until he can trace his touch along the band of your panties. “Just from the way you spoke. Just from your heart. Who you were. I knew you had to be beautiful.

Too many things happen to your heart at once.

“And you are,” he breathes, finally pushing inside as his fingers drag down your clit.

Instantly, you’re arching off the bed, chest knocking into his as you writhe and beg for more.

He smirks. “Waited a lifetime to feel this,” he says before stroking through your folds.

Then, he pulls away.

You feel as though your stomach caves in, but he remedies this by grabbing hold of the material on your legs to rip it down.

Your eyes widen, and for only a moment, you’re struck with nerves. This is Harry Styles. And he’s looking at you, looking at your body in a way nobody else ever has.

And you think about your past, and you think about your present. Think about everything that was holding you back before, and—

He hovers above you once again and smashes his lips to yours. Eager to rid you of these thoughts he can already see swimming inside your mind.

It works. Almost too perfectly as he slips his hand around the fabric of your panties before snapping it around his fist.

They flutter to the ground, and he moves next for your shirt.

You work in tandem to rid each other of the remaining clothes. Now, all that’s left is one, singular pair of briefs that keep him from you.

You swallow thickly as he pushes you back into the pillows near your headboard, wanting you to get comfy.

But he’s slow. So goddamn slow and it makes you whine as he purposefully leaves most of your body untouched in favor of kissing you.

At first, you’re tempted to think it’s out of repulsion but the gleam in his eye tells you it’s intentional. He wants to make you wait.

“Harry,” you gasp, the feeling of his mouth on your sternum almost enough to kill you. “Please…please—”

“What?” He shoots you a grin as he cages you between his arms. “Something wrong?”

You whine and squirm beneath his large, strong, and incredibly toned frame. “You’re killing me.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, dipping down to nuzzle his nose against yours. “This is only the start.”

You can’t help the pout on your lips as you reach up to card your fingers through his hair, tugging him down to your mouth. “You’re mean.”

“No,” he argues with a grin. “I think this is only fair. I think it’s only right that I make you beg for me the way I had to beg for you.”

And even though the memory makes you sad, and even though the prospect of his teasing is painful…you can’t help but whimper.

“Would you like that, ladybug?” he asks, taking hold of your jaw to guide you to the side. Giving him access to your neck as he licks a stripe from the base of your throat to your ear. “Hm?”

You can say nothing. Can offer no reply or quippy remark as you melt into his touch.

"Would you?" he hums again. "Would you like me to torture you the way you tortured me?"

He won't touch you until he has your answer, although it’s nearly impossible for you to find one with him so goddamn close.

"Yes," you sigh, eyes squeezing as you attempt to steady your heart rate. Having a stroke right now would be incredibly unsexy. "Please.”

His smile widens, making your chest burst with pride. And just when you think he’s gonna kiss you…he pulls back.

He moves onto his knees now, settling into a straddle over your hips, releasing your jaw so he can trail his palms down your naked torso.

Every tiny little action, and tiny little brush has you reeling, arching off the bed in an effort to push yourself into his touch.

And he watches with a focused gleam as his fingers dance along your collarbone.

Then down your chest.

And to your belly button.

You huff when he leaves two very prominent places untouched, but he merely smirks, and continues on with his game.

His hands smooth along your sides, up and down, squeezing gently. Appreciating every inch of your body as best he can. Almost as if memorizing it. Putting an image to the voice he’s known for months.

Finally, he travels back up, and palms your breasts with a fervent reverence.

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips, head rolling back into the pillows as he cups you. Rubs you. Massages you. Things that likely shouldn’t be this hot but are helping worsen the mess between your thighs.

He has endless amounts of power right now. And you both know it.

He begins to move down your body, now straddling your legs, exposing more of your body to him.

And he takes this opportunity to gently scratch his fingers down your stomach, smiling when it quivers, before moving for your cunt.

But again, he touches you everywhere but where you need him most. Grazing his digit along your hip bone and thighs.

Then…he crouches down. He makes eye contact with your cunt, pupils dilating like he's a kid in a candy store, and your heart does cartwheels inside your chest as he dips down to press a kiss to your left hip…then to your right.

He rests his mouth against the inside of your thigh. The pink fibers of his lips painting pictures along the sensitive skin before nipping at it gently. Purposefully. Until you’re whining desperately in the back of your throat.

And you have to swallow another noise because looking at him as he does this is like torture. Making everything ten times more prominent as he moves to your other thigh, kissing it just as gingerly, and creating a trail all the way up…

He takes one, singular moment to shoot you a coy smile, almost as if anticipating your wonder before dipping back down.

And everything changes.

Fireworks scatter behind your eyelids the second he makes contact with your pussy. You aren’t sure what you expected (especially from a man who has a song about eating pussy) but it’s better than anything you could have hoped for.

Because he wants to do this. You can tell. He buries his face, his mouth, his nose into your cunt as though he can’t breathe any other way.

Purposeful licks are repeated to your clit, to your folds, over your incredibly empty hole. At first, there’s no rhyme or reason to his technique. He’s simply…tasting you. Getting familiar with your body, finding what makes it tick.

But once he figures it out, it’s game over.

You arch from the bed, knees bending beside his head as you reach down and grasp onto his hair.

He groans, loudly, and with so much appreciation. Either from the taste or from the pain, you don’t really know.

But it hardly matters because he’s pulling your clit between his teeth and tugging. Keeping it trapped in his mouth for a good few seconds before releasing it.

“Harry,” you gasp, throat going dry, and he grins.

“Shh, let me take care of this, hm?” He presses his palms to the insides of your legs to force your thighs to the bed, keeping you spread. “Taste so fucking good, lovie.”

And he’s lapping at you like you’re an ice cream cone on a hot day. Over and over and over, swallowing everything you have to offer him before nudging the tip of his tongue inside your hole.

“Fuck—” You squirm again, practically lifting off the mattress, but his large hands splay across your stomach and push you back down. “Harry, please—”

“So fucking good,” he says again, almost as if to himself. He sucks on you until you see stars, pressing his tongue flat to your folds. “God…can’t believe you get this all to yourself. Anytime you want it.”

“It’s yours,” you sigh. “S’all yours, Harry.”

He looks up, half of his face shimmering with your arousal as he grins. “Yeah?”

You squeeze his scalp harder, nodding fervently. “Yes. Yeah. Whatever you want. Yours. Take it. Take me. Please—”

He seems to bask in this idea, scooting back some to make room for his hand. His thumb is next to explore you, slipping along your silky cunt. Pressing, and rubbing, and circling.

Then, he slips his middle finger inside.

It becomes a combination of licking at your clit and fucking into you with his digit. Repeatedly. Unforgivingly. Until you can’t breathe. Until you can hardly fucking stand it.

And right before you’re given your second orgasm by this man…he stops.

Because of course he fucking stops, and you curse him to hell the moment you realize he’s pulling away from you.

He was right. This is torture.

He sits up, bending over the side of the bed so he can retrieve something from the floor. And when you see it, your stomach flips.

His belt.

He says nothing as he runs it through his hands, eyes flicking along your headboard as if in search of something.

Then, he smiles. And looks at you.

“May I?” he asks gently, refusing to move any closer until he has your consent.

But you’re already thrusting your wrists up, lip between your teeth as he smiles.

“Are you su—”

“Yes. Go. Please,” you nearly whine, nodding quickly as if to assure him.

Thankfully, it works, and he concedes to your request for speed by kneeling over your body and wrapping the leather around your arms.

It’s tight. Tight enough that your pussy throbs and your eyes glaze over. You enjoy putting your control in his hands. Maybe more than you should.

Once secure, he looks over his work, and smiles. “Good.”

You scoot up some, hoping to inspire another kiss, but instead…he leans back.

And crawls off the bed altogether.

“Well…this was fun,” he says, running a hand through his hair as he makes his way for the door. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

You can’t even process the lame attempt at a joke as he slips into the hallway and disappears from sight.

In fact, you can do nothing but blink mutely and in complete shock as you’re left to stare at the empty door frame.

“Harry…” you begin hesitantly. “Where…where are you going?”

Silence. No response. No sound. No clue as to where he might be.

The blood drains from your face. “Harry, this isn’t funny.”

Nothing.

“Harry!”

You tug on the belt in hopes of setting yourself free, but can’t budge. He made sure of it.

And you’re tempted to wonder if this is payback for what you did to him. If he genuinely only lured you back so he could have a bit of revenge, and the idea is gut-wrenching—

Until he returns.

You see his face, peeking in from the hall, smug and incredibly amused.

“You…fucking…ass,” you hiss, shooting him a vicious glare. “That was not funny.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be funny,” he counters, arms crossing as he leans his shoulder against the frame and watches you.

He’s got something in his mouth. You aren’t sure what, but you can see him roll it around in his cheek and can hear the distortion in his voice.

Your eyes narrow. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on you.” It’s simple enough, but that smirk tells a different story. “How you doing, sweetheart? Feelin’ tortured yet?”

“Incredibly so,” you bite back, huffing as he finally begins to walk back into the room. “And I hate you.”

“Ouch.” He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart as he offers a wounded frown. “That really hurts, Cheesy.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Now untie me or get on with it.”

His brow cocks up, and he places a knee on the bed beside your legs to steady himself. “Awful bossy for someone under my control.”

“Are you done with the quippy remarks or can I finish please?” you retort, noticing the way he rakes his eyes over your naked body. Admiring every inch, from your face down to your cunt. “And what the fuck is in your mouth?”

His answer comes in the form of his action. He straddles your hips once more, getting settled atop your body and leaning down until his face is near your chest.

He doesn’t even look at you as he lowers his lips and lets out a slow breath, right over your left nipple.

The air is cold—frigid—and you gasp as the nipple instantly hardens, pebbling from his freezing breath.

He’s pleased with your reaction, and pushes the object in his mouth toward his teeth, allowing you to finally see what you had begun to suspect.

A fucking ice cube.

Your expression falls into one of need as you plead with him, anxious for more as he pulls it back in and moves to your other breast.

Again, he allows the cooler air to travel over your skin until you keen, chest heaving anxiously from the idea more than the sensation.

Your arms pull on the restraints. Needing to touch him in any way you can. Or maybe touch yourself. You aren’t sure, but you love it. Need it. Need more of it.

Next, he moves to your neck, trailing the frozen liquid along the base of your throat. Ignoring your gasps and groans of ecstasy while dragging it up your jaw.

Finally…he reaches your lips. And without a moment’s hesitation, your mouths crash together, and the cube is deposited into your mouth.

Words don’t exist for you now. Nothing exists but him. And this shared connection that you’ve been fighting since that first cheese pun.

The water melts in your mouth, making the kiss that much sloppier. But neither of you seem to care as he suddenly grinds his hips down into yours, covered cock like heroin to your pussy as he teases you with a taste.

“Shit.” Your skin burns from the leather keeping it bound, but it makes you whimper with pure bliss. “Harry, please—”

He’s silent as he maneuvers back down your body, lips puckering as he hovers near your cunt.

And spits.

He let’s cold saliva dribble from his mouth to your clit, smirking proudly when you make a noise that resembles a helpless cry.

It’s one of the most erotic things you’ve ever seen, followed instantly by his beautiful fingers that begin to work the wetness in beside your own.

The sounds are stunning. Perfect, and lewd, and delicious. Almost as delicious as he is, and you quiver at the sight of him so concentrated on your pussy.

“Harry,” you exhale, desperate for his attention. “Please…please, I can’t…I need—”

“Need what?” There’s an almost cruel undertone to the question. Sadistic, in every sense of the word. “Need…my cock?”

Just the word has a shiver rolling down your spine. “Yes.”

You sound shy. Timid, almost, and you hate it. Because there is nothing in the world you want more than this glorious man’s cock and that is nothing to be ashamed of.

He hums, watching as you wiggle your hips against his hand, hoping to encourage more stimulation. “I bet you do. But I don’t know if you deserve it.”

Again, your lips push into a remorseful pout. “I do, I promise.”

“Do you?” He tsks, sliding in a thick digit and watching as your hole stretches for him. He smiles. “I don’t know. Think you’re lucky to get my fingers.”

“Please,” you try again. “I’m tortured, I promise. Just need you—”

“You think this is torture, my love?” His tongue runs over his bottom lip as he finds your eyes. “No, we’re just getting started.”

It’s thrilling and devastating all at once, and you practically wilt into the mattress as you whine.

“If you really want me to stop, I will,” he finally concedes, and you perk up at the thought before he adds, “But if we stop…then it all stops. I'll keep you tied up right here while I go for a walk. Or maybe I’ll watch some TV. Learn to bake scones."

You mewl again as he grins.

“And you?” He dips down, allowing his lips to ghost over yours. “You’ll be right here. Right where I left you. Stuck. Unable to come until I feel nice enough to let you.”

“Harry,” you gasp, trying to lift to kiss him, but he backs away just as quickly as he appeared.

“I wanna play with you a bit more,” he says next, ignoring your pleas. “And then maybe I’ll be nice.”

A second finger is added. Stroking your inner walls until you lift from the bed. Grinding against his hand like you won’t be able to breathe if he doesn’t give it to you.

He works you back up the peak. A steady incline meant to ruin you further. He doesn’t fuck into you as quickly as before. Now he takes his time. As if memorizing the feel of your pussy in his hand. Of the way you clench and quiver.

Which you don’t mind. You’d stay here with him forever as long as he kept touching you. As long as he kept looking at you the way he is now.

He ignores every noise you make to concentrate on the way your body looks. On the way you’re forced open for his fingers. On the way your tight, little hole looks when it’s void of digits, fluttering around nothing until he finally gives you what you need.

Sinking into you seems to be his favorite part from the way his brows furrow and his teeth grit. The hardening in his briefs making the case that he’s losing this battle just as quickly as you are.

But he doesn’t focus on his pleasure. He focuses on you. At least right now. Lets his thumb press into your clit before dragging it around in fast circles. Just to watch you squeeze your eyes shut and pull on the restraint.

He kisses along your neck, down your stomach, and anywhere he can reach. His other free hand switches between fondling and palming at your chest to squeezing your love handles, your legs, and eventually, your neck.

He tilts your face up, his pressure light but firm, and soon, you’re gasping again, that light at the end of the tunnel much brighter than it was before.

And that blinding pleasure finds you once more as you’re brought to the brink for a second time. He’ll give it to you this time, you know he will. He’ll be so good to you. Let you come on his fingers, then suck you clean—

It stops. All of it. Again. Just as you’re about to come, and he’s pulling his hand away before you can even wrap your head around it.

“Harry,” you gasp, dumbstruck by the notion of him doing this to you again. “Please—”

“See, this what it felt like,” he whispers, bracing himself with an arm beside your head while his other fingers begin pulling down his briefs. “This is exactly how it fucking felt to get so close to you…only to have you walk away.”

Tears slip up the back of your throat as you peer up at him, muscles aching from the strain of your wrestling against the belt. “I’m sorry—”

“I know,” he hums, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek. “And I know why you did it. Not mad at you, sweetheart. Just want you to share this pain with me.”

He pulls his cock out. And it’s glorious. So fucking glorious. Hard and long and like a fucking ice cream cone.

And it looks exceptional in his hand. With the golden rings on his fingers still dripping in you. You practically stick your tongue out in wait as he begins to stroke himself, eager for his offering.

But he doesn’t offer it to you. Instead, his lashes flutter as he begins to work your arousal over his swollen tip. Gasping at the feel while you’re left to stare.

He’s not going to give you his cock.

He’s gonna fuck his fist right over your aching body as you’re left to do nothing but watch him.

This…is the real torture.

“Harry,” you try again, arching up in an attempt to reach him. “Fuck, wait. Wait, let me.”

He doesn’t even look at you. Squeezes his eyes shut as his chin drops to his chest, little curls dancing down onto his forehead.

The arm beside you is flexing as he keeps himself up, and his cock is only inches—inches—from your cunt yet so far away.

You want to be a part of his pleasure more than anything in the world. Want to be the reason he feels good and it kills you not to be able to help. Kills you that you can’t touch him the way you’ve been desperate to since that phone call.

And then…he fucking whimpers.

A sound so soft, so desperate, it makes your lungs ache.

“Baby,” he breathes, working his hand a little faster as he grips the base. “Fuck…feels so good.”

Again, you yank on the headboard, and feel the tears gather in your eyes when you’re kept from him.

You try to touch him in any other way. You bring your knees to his hips and squeeze. Let your legs brush against his. Bury your face in his arm.

“Harry, please,” you whisper, and you sound so dejected, it makes his breath hitch.

His forehead drops to your chest, seemingly overcome by the sensation as the muscles in his back constrict from the pleasure.

“So fucking good,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. “Fuck…I needed this. Needed you.”

You choke on a whine, livid with him for making you sit and watch. For making you need him just as much.

“Touch me, baby,” he gasps before it melts into another needy whine. “Shit…touch me, please.”

“I’m trying,” you pant, once again bucking up in an effort to reach him. But you can’t quite make it. “Fuck, Harry. Please…please let me touch you. Let me go. Let me help—”

He doesn't answer, instead releasing a deep breath against your skin, his sweaty forehead pressed firmly to your collarbone.

"Please," he finally says, but it’s lost beneath a strained inhale as he increases the speed of his strokes, nearing his release.

And you groan, tears beginning to slip down your face. He’s going to kill you. This is going to kill you.

“Need you, lovie,” he moans, face burying into your neck. “Fucking need you, ladybug, please—”

“Harry,” you cry, and it’s the most pitiful sound you’ve ever made.

You’ve never wanted anything more in your life. Never wanted to be with anybody as badly as you need to be with him. Never needed release as badly as you need his. Because you realize you’d do anything for him. Give up your own orgasms to make him happy. You’d give up everything to make him happy.

And that’s when it hits you.

“Okay,” you nearly shout, hiccuping through your anguish. “Okay, I get it. It hurts, Harry, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry. You’re right, it fucking hurts, and I hate it. I hate this—please. Let me touch you, I have to touch you.”

His head lifts at your confession, and when those lust clouded eyes find yours…he finally smiles.

He wanted you to know exactly how it fucking felt to be kept from what you want. The pain and the torture of needing someone who won’t have you. He wanted you to beg for him the way he had to beg for you.

Even if he understands why…he wanted you to know.

And you do. You really fucking do.

His strokes begin to slow, and although you can tell he’s still overcome with his own ecstasy, he nods at you to continue.

“I understand,” you repeat, sniffling as the raw honesty finally reaches him. “I do. And I’m so sorry. Never hurt you again. Just please…please untie me. Let me help. Need to touch you, need…want to touch you.”

At first, nothing changes. His hand continues its lazy pace along his cock before finally, something snaps behind his eyes.

In an instant, he’s reaching up, and flicking the tie undone, allowing your arms to fall beside your head.

You nearly cry with relief before grabbing onto his face to kiss him. Hands clutching his cheeks so tight, you won’t be surprised if you hurt him.

But he doesn’t mind. Of course he doesn’t mind, instead groaning against your tongue as he drags his tip along your pussy to collect you.

And you’re reminded of what you both want, simultaneously rushing to guide him inside of you.

He leaves your lips only to line himself up, pushing your thigh to the bed to allow him a perfect visual.

The appreciative groans that fall from his tongue nearly ruin you, and you can see how enamored he is with your body as he teases you a time or two more, sliding up and down your pussy before finally pushing in.

And this…

Everything has led you to this moment. From the very first text to the meeting in the diner to kissing him in the theater.

This is where you were always meant to find yourselves.

The two of you only have enough patience for about thirty seconds of adjustment before you become rabid. It's urgent, hard, and fast. Just like everything else about this encounter, and you revel in every moment.

His hands grip onto your hips to angle you before they’re placed near your head. His fingers curl into the blanket, fisting it tight in his palms as he thrusts forward, head dropping into your shoulder.

Your own nails are clawing down his back, pulling him as far into you as you can get him, and moaning whenever he hits the perfect spot.

Your legs have wrapped around his waist, practically attaching him to you as you feel his body roll.

Your skin is sweaty, and sticky, and your breathing is ragged. The noises you’re making are wildly incoherent, but the movements feel strangely coordinated. As if it was always meant to be you.

"Fuck, this is so much better," he grunts into your ear, and perhaps if you weren’t so lost on him, you’d laugh. "Nothing else feels like you do, baby. Nothing."

And you want to respond, but his deep thrusts seem to knock the words right out of you.

"Never again," he whispers. "Never gonna wait this long again. Almost killed me."

“You?” you snort, and he smiles into your neck.

He moves one hand back to your hip before he’s wrapping his entire arm around your lower back. Lifting it from the bed to create a newer angle before continuing his fervent rhythm.

You can feel how deep his fingers have disappeared into your skin, but you don't care. You don’t think you’ll care about anything else ever again. All you want is to hear him make those wonderful noises again as his face screws up with pleasure.

And it’s strange because you spent so much of the afternoon begging for your own release…only to desperately need his instead.

The sound of your bodies connecting echoes around the room. Skin slapping, thrusts wet, moans lewd and loud.

He kisses your shoulder as a reminder that he’s still there but you can tell he’s distracted. So, you take the opportunity to do it yourself.

You move your lips along his neck, then down to where it meets his chest before licking at the salty skin.

You take every chance that you’re offered to touch him, hands scraping down the muscles beside his spine, tangling in his hair, squeezing his arms. You can't seem to get enough, and with every graze of your fingertips, he sighs, thrusting harder just so you’ll scratch him again.

Eventually, the pleasure is too much, and he drops your hip as his body grinds into yours.

The pressure of his weight against you feels so perfect. Like a magic trick, luring you into another plane of existence as you’re lost in the bliss.

He’s nearing his release, stuttering some as he meets your eye. You’d already talked about birth control and condoms back in the taxi, but he looks for confirmation now.

You nod.

With that, he fills you. And it’s warm and long and it makes your mind go fuzzy even before he reaches down to pinch your clit.

He needs you to come with him. Needs to feel you, too, and after already being edged twice, it doesn’t take long.

The mind-numbing wave of euphoria crashes over the shore of your subconscious and you’re almost sure you black out. Clenching around him as he whispers your name and kisses you to the other side.

Three orgasms are rolled into one, dragging you beneath the wave of coherency until all you feel is him and his touch.

And just when you think it’s over, he pulls out, and settles back down beside your knees.

His mouth is on you again. Licking, and sucking, and swallowing both of you with his tongue. Everything that drips from your pussy is taken between his lips as he groans, and pushes you into a second orgasm.

The overstimulation to your already abused cunt just about kills you, but there will never be anything hotter than watching his come and your own drip down his chin.

And after you’ve been ruined a second time, he seems satisfied, returning to your embrace so he can grab onto your jaw and demand your tongue.

He offers you a taste. Lets it dribble into your mouth as you whimper and eagerly accept the salty taste of you both.

And he kisses you. Shares so many things with you through his lips alone, more than words will ever be able to describe. And you lose yourself in him.

Not for the last time.

The next thing you become aware of is his body collapsing onto yours. His chest melded to your own, his face nuzzled into your throat.

And maybe it’s a little hard to breathe, but you don’t even mind. Because this is the best you’ve felt in years.

He stays for the rest of the night. Takes you to the shower with him and cleans you both up. Smiles when he sees the hickeys and marks he’s left.

You talk for hours. Sitting on your bed in your fluffy robes as you get to know each other. Really know each other.

He tells you stories until the sun comes up. And you listen and laugh and fall hopelessly in love with the stranger in your phone.

Who isn’t a stranger anymore.

And as the sunlight dances through your curtains come morning, you realize one very important thing:

This is only the beginning.

A huge, wonderful, and warm thank you to @nof0odallowed for the original ask! 💞

Thank you all so much for your kindness with this story and for allowing me to spam your timelines with Harry and Cheese Girl 😭💞 I cannot tell you enough how appreciative I am for how you’ve helped me tell this story!! You have my entire heart!! ♥️

Previous Part:

~ iFall for Harry pt. 9

~ Full iFall for Harry Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @lydiarry @yoruse @lomlolivia @kkr102 @gills-lounge @sicklscream @white-wolf-buckaroo @brooklynbelle @stylesmoonlight12

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles smut #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #smut #concept #ifall for harry #harry and cheese girl

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andavs · 8 months ago

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It seems like there's some common misconceptions about Eddie's time in the army, which is understandable because the show is very vague about it. And I think there’s still a bit of this outdated idea of the pregnant wife waving her handkerchief from the porch as her husband goes off to the front lines, and then he comes back years later to their six year old child he’s never met.

Which is very much not the case.

So some quick definitions: Enlistment is not the same as deployment.

Enlistment: The eight year contract during which a person is employed as a servicemember of the armed forces. The clock starts after basic training. The minimum is two years active duty, followed by six as a reservist. Four years active would be followed by four years as a reservist, six active would mean two in the reserves.

Deployment (tour): a time period where personnel are sent from the base where they’re stationed to a theater of operations (not always warzones). Most deployments in the US Army are about a year or less, with time at home between to decompress and reintegrate into everyday life.

Not everyone who enlists gets deployed or even leaves the US. Even fewer see combat. This depends entirely on what’s needed and also on units; individual soldiers don’t get deployed, their units do.

Now, Eddie.

The show tends to make it sound like Eddie was in Afghanistan for like five years straight, but he was not. There's a minimum period of time between deployments during which he would’ve been working regular hours at the base where he was stationed, presumably in El Paso. It’s possible he was stationed outside of Texas while Shannon stayed behind with his parents, but he’s never mentioned living anywhere else.

Eddie was enlisted active duty from at least 2011 (possibly 2010) until sometime in 2015 when he was injured and discharged. During that time period, he did "multiple" tours—the exact number is never said, but presumably more than two.

Eddie enlisted when they found out Shannon was pregnant. He went off to basic training (10 weeks) and then additional medic training (16 weeks) after that, and then he was deployed to Afghanistan for his first tour very shortly after. He was home on leave when Chris was born; Shannon said he was going back the following week.

After his first tour ended, he would’ve returned to his home base. If he was stationed at Fort Bliss in El Paso (again, he’s never mentioned living elsewhere), he would’ve been working fairly regular hours on base and going home to Shannon and Chris every night.

The reenlistment argument is hard to pin down, timeline-wise. Eddie said he reenlisted at the end of a tour, and the argument we see says it was in 2015. That would mean Eddie signed up for four years of active duty and probably did two or three shorter tours in that time, but Chris doesn’t look like a three or four year old, and they have a different and much older kid playing him later that same year..

If it was supposed to be around 2013 and he only signed up for two years active duty, that would mean he probably did a couple shorter tours.

Reenlisting wouldn’t guarantee he’d be deployed again, but the uncertainty and not knowing how long he’d be home would put a ton of strain and stress on his family, especially with Chris having recently been diagnosed with CP. Long term planning is especially difficult.

He got deployed again in 2015, which is when the helicopter went down. I tend to think this was his third deployment, but it could’ve been his fourth. His welcome home party is three months after the crash, and Shannon seems to leave very shortly after.

#911 #911 abc #911 meta #eddie diaz

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littlexdeaths · 7 months ago

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blondes do have more fun - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

warnings: robin and reader get so drunk, reader is too clumsy for her own good

opposites attract masterlist

a/n: another edit and repost of this y2k series. this was the second blurb i ever wrote for them and it was heavily inspired by that one scene in 10 things i hate about you, iykyk. enjoy babes 💕

word count: 1.2k

It was an impulse decision.

So of course he would be surprised.

If you were being honest, you were a little scared to see Eddie’s reaction. Which was why you asked Nancy to tag along with you to the hair salon. Knowing she would give you her honest opinion either way.

It took over two hours to get your locks to the bleach blonde perfection you desired. Keeping your eyes off of the mirror during the entire process due to your nerves. So when the stylist finally spun your chair around, you were genuinely shocked as you fell in love upon meeting your reflection.

You had never done much with your hair over the years, besides the occasional haircut. But you were itching to try out something new. Finding yourself inspired by your latest obsession, Legally Blonde.

You had dragged Eddie to see it with you in theaters more times than you cared to admit— but he never once complained.

He had actually enjoyed it, even making a comment or two about how he thought Reese Witherspoon was pretty. Which got the wheels in your head turning, leading you into a salon chair with bleach covering your head.

“It looks amazing, hun,” Nancy gushed as you left the salon, arms linked together as you ventured deeper into the Starcourt Mall.

There was a new air of confidence about you as you walked, sipping on Orange Julius’ smoothies. You all but dragged her into Wet Seal to help you find the perfect outfit for later. Steve was hosting yet another rager, which had become a recurring weekend event amongst your friend group.

After many trips to the fitting room (and an impromptu fashion show), you eventually walked out of the mall with a mini black dress and matching pair of platform sandals.

You decided to keep this new look under wraps for the rest of the day, waiting until Steve’s party to reveal it to everyone.

As you walked into the male’s home you kept your head high, pushing through the crowd of tipsy college kids to find your friends. Eddie was going to meet you here after band practice had wrapped up. But you couldn’t help but feel your nerves stirring in your stomach.

What if he hated it?

Logically you knew it didn’t matter, it was your hair after all. But you still wanted him to like it nonetheless.

You spotted Robin and Steve in the living room, bounding over to them with a smile. They were clearly in the middle of a squabble of some sort, but Robin’s face lights up once she sees you.

It was quite obvious she was already wasted, her cheeks thoroughly flushed as she stumbled towards you. Steve’s eyes widen in surprise, attempting to reign her back in but she easily shrugs him off.

“Oh my god, Nance told me it looked good. But it’s way better than I could’ve imagined!” She squealed, pulling you into a hug as you just laughed.

She leans closer to your ear, hanging onto your arm for support, “Dude… Eddie is gonna lose it. It’s giving Pam Anderson and Elle Woods— you look hot.”

You felt your cheeks warm from her words, as Steve is finally able to tug her off of you with an annoyed expression. You hadn’t even thought about that, taking a glance down at your attire. It was very reminiscent of an outfit you’d seen Ms. Anderson sporting on the cover of one of those trashy tabloid magazines recently.

Robin was right, per usual but it only makes you more anxious for your boyfriend to arrive.

You make your way over to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink, nearly chugging it in an attempt to make your nerves disappear. But one drink quickly turns into four and having not eaten much before you arrived— you became very drunk, very fast.

So drunk that you didn’t even notice when Eddie finally did arrive, after a very concerned phone call from Steve.

The brunette was already having to babysit Robin, but now he was struggling to keep you both in check. Chasing the two of you around his house, your chorus of giggles barely being heard above the bubbly pop music. Eddie arrives soon after that phone call, searching frantically through the crowd of people to find you.

However it didn’t take him very long to do so.

A crowd had begun to form in Steve’s dining room, as you pulled Robin up onto his table with you. Both of you dancing drunkenly on the top of it, letting the heavy bass pump through you. The both of you ignore the whistles and shouts from the crowd, raising your hands above your head.

Eddie had finally pushed his way to the front of the crowd, watching in amusement as you got a little too into the gyration of your hips. Not a care in the world as you tossed your head back. Seemingly forgetting about the large chandelier that hung behind you. That amusement turns to slight horror as the back of your head smacks right against the light fixture.

A combination of the impact and the alcohol has you feeling lightheaded, your knees start to wobble. Robin gasps in shock, attempting to grab on to your wrist but fails miserably as you lose your balance. Letting you fall back into the crowd and right into a pair of strong arms.

Your vision is blurred and your head starts to spin as the person quickly carries you out of the room, cradling you against their chest. In your inebriated and dizzy state you don’t realize it’s the metalhead you’ve been waiting to see all night.

You squirm in his arms, attempting to get him to put you down, “Excuse me— I have a boyfriend.” You huff, pushing against their denim clad shoulder, “Put me down!”

The pout adorning your lips causes him to chuckle, immediately recognizing the sound. You blink your lashes rapidly as your boyfriend’s face finally comes into focus. That pout is quickly replaced with a toothy grin, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him.

Eddie kisses you back gently, kicking the door shut behind him. He sits you both down on the bed, now in the comfort of Steve’s guest room. You snuggle up into his chest immediately, playing with his dark curls.

“Glad you’ve finally come back down to earth, love,” he hums, "Is your head feeling okay?”

You sigh happily, nodding as Eddie begins to feel the back of your head. Carefully inspecting it to make sure you haven’t done any significant damage. You wince as he finds a tender spot, the male pressing a light kiss to it.

“So you dye your hair and go completely off the rails,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m just glad I got here when I did.”

His concerned tone makes you giggle nonetheless, leaning up to press a sloppy kiss against his jaw. The room had finally stopped spinning, and you felt ready to get back to the party.

“You know what they say, Eds, blondes have more fun.”

Eddie just rolls his eyes at you fondly, ruffling your freshly dyed locks.

“Uh huh, sure they do, sweetheart.”

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: opposites attract 🫧#eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #y2k!eddie munson #early 2000s!eddie munson

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