#let him wear a white mess-jacket if it makes him happy!

[noandnooneelse]

god i've figured out who madeline bassett reminds me of. madeline basset reminds me of hermann broch, und seinem teesdorfer tagebuch für ea von allesch.

Geliebtes, Süßes, gestern abend 1 Briefi heute 2. Bin so froh damit Kindi, for example. [...] etwas von jener Süßigkeit, die da ist, wenn ich Dein Handi auf mich gelegt spüre, as another example. That thing pissed me off so much that i, despite the fact that die magd zerline is brilliantly written, did not end up reading Die Schlafwandler, ever, and i couldnt stand much more than the first 20 pages of that diary. It's funny to read about in Wodehouse, but god. Any other circumstance that's gotta be terrible

[dominantslasherking]

Patrick Bateman with Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Backstory: Patrick had always mistaken his jealousy for you to be out of wanting what you want, to be like you, when it was in fact that Patrick was jealous because he couldn't be with you. Patrick wants to show you how much he wants you, by getting on his knees like a good boy. (BTW you're his boss) Warnings: Needy Patrick Bateman. Bratty Patrick Bateman. Submissive Patrick bateman

"Mr. Bateman?"

His assistant's voice was drowned out by his raving thoughts, his still face urked something deeper on the inside. Patrick's breath halted as he watched you enter the meeting room. Patrick''s eyes fixated on you, the object of his all-consuming fixation, You, wearing a designer suit so exquisitely tailored. "The stitching was so fine that it could have been performed by angels, and the black silk tie, perfectly knotted, was a stark contrast to the snowy white dress shirt beneath. His cuffs peeked out just enough, revealing pristine, perfectly aligned links that seemed to shimmer in the ambient light."

Patrick's inner monologue continued to obsess over your suit and how it was tailor-made, and it made Patrick grit his teeth a bit that you one-upped him with your tailor-made, and currently-in-style suit.

Patrick was snapped out of his intense thinking as you greeted him, your large and veiny hand, taking in his own. "Pleasure, once again Mr Bateman." Your humble and husky voice rang. Patrick gave a fake smile. "Of course." You could tell that Patrick held back his greetings of praise was that jealousy written on his face? The business meeting continued on normally, Patrick always sparing you passing glances, a mixture of emotions displayed in his eyes.

<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>> The next scene was at Dorsia, the place Patrick could never get into, but he was oh so shocked to receive an invitation from you of all people.

But Patrick was just happy he could get in, he wore a fake smile, his best suit, and a pretty woman at his side. Patrick's smile instantly fell when he saw you, with a breathtaking woman, more beautiful than the one at his side.

But it wasn't jealousy of the woman you had, it was something more, that Patrick couldn't place just yet.

"Don't worry, the meal is on me." You politely stated, as Patrick's intense gaze lifted up from the menu and onto you for a brief moment, a mutter under his breath, something incoherent, but, you could tell he was mocking you. Slowly you rested your face lightly on your knuckles amused by him, how come you have never noticed such a handsome yet bratty worker? Not only that but when the waiter came over, you saw a sinister grin place itself on Patrick's face as he smiled showing off his pearly teeth. "I think I'll indulge in the 'Golden Elixir of Ostentation,'" Patrick said purposely ordering the most expensive alcoholic beverage on the menu, he was clearly reveling in his choice. It seemed he was expecting you to protest in a sense, but you straightened up your posture a bit and gave a small nod. "Make that two bottles." "The bratty veneer I had carefully cultivated crumbled away. It was a sensation I hadn't felt in a long time - the desire to submit." Patrick had thought. His face fell into one of stillness and unease.

<>><<>>><<>>><><><><><<<>>

Patrick opened his mouth, letting your fingers enter. Patrick's tongue rolled around, licking and slurping on your fingers, as he then began to suck, maintaining eye contact with you. On his knees, in your fancy penthouse is where the current setting was. Patrick was already stripped of most of his suit, his suit's jacket laying somewhere, Tie gone, his white dress shirt unbuttoned nearly fully, his hair a mess. "[Name].." Patrick's voice was muffled and breathless as he tried to speak with your fingers in his mouth, his eyes were a bit droopy with lust.

"In that instant, the power dynamics shifted, and I found myself navigating a treacherous new territory, craving his attention and approval more than ever before." --- Patrick Bateman.

[oosleepyfaeoo]

A Kiss Is All I Need

Modern!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two

Summary: 2 months ago, Alys, the love of his life, broke up with him. Their relationship of five years gone by a simple farewell note that she left on their, well now his, penthouse. 2 months crying and feeling like shit but that all stopped when he meet you on that dreadful clothing store.

Warnings: Nothing much yet, just little fluff.

Words: 1,167

Masterlist / Series Masterlist

Taglist: @zenka69 @cryptid-l0ver @saelwen-shy-elf @aemondsdelight @shari-berri @kckt88 @watercolorskyy @dae7tina @saturnssrings @dixie-elocin @arabis-world @tulips2715 @reedmurdock @ladythornofrivia @tssf-imagines @eeeeeevesstuff @venmondiese @bellaisasleep @darylandbethfanforever9 @snh96 @liv-cole

Aemond took a deep breath as he stood in front of your bakery. ‘The Faun Cottage’ was the name of your store. The display window was decorated with beautiful green leaves and antique books which served to hold cakes and baskets of bread.

He was dressed in a light white shirt with a leather jacket, black jeans, and super comfortable Doctor Martens, which he wears almost every day. His long hair was tied in a low ponytail.

Looking down at the watch on his wrists, he saw it was 2 pm already. “Here goes nothing,” he murmurs as he walks into the bakery. “You better be right, Aegon.”

The scent of fresh bread and coffee along with a sweet herbal smell hit his nose like a train. Inside the shop, it was warm and cozy. Green vines are climbing the walls into the ceiling and some ancient runes are painted on the stone walls which looks like a mix of cottage core with Celtic/Viking vibe. A faint medieval music played in the background. It looks like something from an ancient era.

There are some people seated eating their food, others reading or working while drinking their tea or coffee.

“Mommy! Mommy! My Prince is here!” Emily’s voice echoed through the shop, grabbing his attention. This time she was dressed in a simple brown dress with some hand-painted runes on it. Her black hair was braided, and two small antlers rested on her head.

Aemond smiles down at her and kneels to shake her tiny hand. “Hello, Emily.” He greets her gently. “And what do you suppose to be today?”

She gives him a little twirl and grins. “I’m a druid! I talk to animals and cure people's booboos with my magic!” The girl grabs his hand and pulls him towards the door behind the counter, saying a quick hello to the guy who was attending to a client.

Aemond chuckles and lets the girl guide him. ���Hmm, I see.”

Emily opens the door and leads him inside. It was an office by the looks and by the desk full of papers and a laptop, stood a very stressed woman.

“Mommy! Look who’s here!” Emily chirps happily.

You looked up from your papers and gave him a tired smile. “Aemond... I’m happy to see you. Please take a seat.” You try to make your office table more presentable, putting all the paperwork in cases. “Sorry for the mess. It’s been a busy day. Maria needed the day off so I took over her work and... it didn’t go well.”

Aemond sat on the wooden chair in front of you while Emily went to the corner to play with her plush animals. “It’s no problem... Here’s my papers, all the training I did.” He gives you the case. “By the way, you have a lovely bakery. Very creative.”

The grin you gave him made Aemond’s heart almost burst out of his chest. Your eyes brightened at his compliment and how the dimples on your cheeks made you look so cute and innocent.

“Thank you! It was a lot of work to make it the way I imagined but it was worth it.” You say taking a seat on your chair. “So, shall we start with the interview?”

Aemond nods.

“Okay! So, your brother said you had experience with children. Your nephews, right?” Aemond nods again.

“Yes, my sister's children. Twins, a girl, Jaehaera, and a boy, Jaehaerys, of 8 years old, and toddler of 2 years old, Maelor.” Aemond smiled gently at the thought of his nephews.

You took notice of his gentleness as he talked about his nephews, which made you feel more relaxed with the idea of him taking care of Emily.

“They all have beautiful names.” You speak. “I’m not going to lie but it seems you are perfect for Emily. You have basic first aid training and CPR certifications.” You look down and read his papers. “Also, it seems Emily is already attached to you.”

You nod towards your daughter, who has her gaze fixed on Aemond while she plays. Aemond grinned at her which made the girl giggle and run towards him, showing him her favorite plush animal.

You pull up the documents for him to sign and put them in front of him. “It seems you got the job! You can read the agreement and then sign down here.” You smile. “I drive her to her school every morning. So, 3 pm you can go pick her up and she is all yours until 7 pm when I get home.”

Aemond nods and signs the paper. Opening the drawer beside you, you take a small notebook along with a key.

“Here.” You give him the book and key. “In here you will find all her allergies, her school, and our apartment address. That’s the key to our home.”

Aemond takes the book and the key from you, his pale fingers brushing gently against yours. “Thank you, Y/n.”

The way your name rolled through his tongue made your loins curl in a familiar feeling. You cough and look down to your laptop, a faint blush adorns your cheeks. Get a grip, Y/n!

There’s a small pregnant silence between you too. Aemond admires the way your face flushes so easily. Even tired, you look beautiful.

“Huh... Well! Ready for your first day?” You stand up and smile, trying to end the awkward silence.

Aemond also stood up, looking down at a very excited Emily. “Ready as I can be.” He gently grabs the girl's hand while putting her backpack on his shoulder and walks out of the office with you following close behind.

You kneel and give a big kiss on your daughter's cheek, making her giggle excitedly. “Have fun and behave.”

“Yes, mommy.” She grins and kisses your nose.

As you stand up, Aemond quickly pulls his wallet out and takes his business card. “I completely forgot to you give my card.” He says with an apologetic gaze. “My phone number is there in case you need something.”

You nod and take his business card. Emily pulls Aemond’s hand and jumps up and down. “Can I have an ice cream on our way home? Pretty please?”

Aemond looks in panic at you to which you laugh. “Yes, but only this time. Alright?”

“Yippe!” Your daughter squeals happily and pulls Aemond’s hand again. “C’mon! C’mon! Let’s go!” Aemond chuckles and lets the girl guide him while waving a small goodbye at you.

You waved back and watched them turn around the block, disappearing out of sight. You feel tears stinging in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of your daughter's absence drives you to panic.

“Deep breath, Y/n.” You whisper to yourself. “She’s going to be okay.”

Taking a deep breath, you look down at the business card in your hand. Your eyes widen as you see a familiar red logo. A three-headed dragon.

“Wait! He’s THE Aemond Targaryen??!!”  

I hope you guys like this chapter!! Feel free to like, comment or reblog!

[biancadjarin]

bully!eddie finds out

you’re a cheerleader

“What. the hell. are you wearing?” Eddie scoffs as he looks up at me from his sitting spot on my front porch.

“I made the varsity cheer squad!” I jump up and down excitedly. “I told you I was going to try out. But you never listen.” I grumble the last part under my breath.

“Hey” Eddie stands and towers over me as I turn my key in the door and let us in. “I listen.” He says, his hand coming up to rest on my lower back as we walk inside. “Just didn’t think you were really going to go through with it. It’s just so not like you.” I feel his eyes scanning my body as we walk down the hallway to my room. “You only care about grades and homework. And now look at you.” He waves his hand at my new uniform. “Who even are you anymore?” I roll my eyes. “You’re being dramatic. Nothing’s changed about me. I’ve always liked dancing. And now I just have some new girlfriends and a couple teams to cheer for.” I chirp. A blazing fire starts behind his eyes. “Bet all the idiot jocks are gonna be drooling all over you.” He shakes his head as he flips the hem of my skirt up. “Hey.” I squeal and hold my skirt back down. He shakes his head. “Is that what you want? For Jason and all his basketball bros to notice you?” Eddie asks.

“No Eddie.” I grumble with an eye roll. “That’s right no.” He growls. “And why’s that hm?” He asks expectantly. I sigh, shifting my weight to one hip, avoiding eye contact with him defiantly. Which is hard to do when his face is inches from mine. He looks at me with his eyebrows raised, waiting.

“Because I only want you to notice me.” I say halfheartedly. He nods, appeased but still not happy. He steps closer, his nose grazing my cheek as he whispers in my ear, his hands settling at my waist. “Because I’m the only one that matters. Because you belong to me. And no one else will ever have you, right?” I stare back at him blankly, not wanting to play his childish game.

Eddie chuckles to himself, turning away and plopping his body on the little pink couch in my room. His eyes rake over me, taking in the way the HHS cheer logo stretches over my chest, the striped ruffle skirt hitting the tops of my thighs, the pompoms still in my hands. The anger is gone from his eyes and all that’s left is lust.

“Show me a cheer then.” He nudges his chin up at me, eyes daring me to move. His arms are stretched across the back of the couch, leather jacket hanging loosely over his white t shirt. I wrinkle my brow and scoff “No. you were just making fun of me.” “Aw c’mon sweetheart. You look so cute. None of the other cheerleaders look this good in the uniform.”

I shake my head at the comparison. I know Eddie has a thing for cheerleaders. He’s hooked up with at least 3, he eyes them whenever they cross his path and I’ve heard rumors about his and Chrissy’s hangouts in the woods. Not that they’d ever admit it. No popular, well respected senior at Hawkins would say they’ve messed around with Eddie. But rumors will fly. And now that I’ve been surrounded by the cheerleaders for a couple weeks, I see most of the rumors were true. But that’s not why I tried out for cheer. I like dancing and being peppy… right?

Eddie’s long legs are spread and he’s staring at me. His hands rest casually in his lap, his fingers intertwined. He’s waiting. “Fine.” I surrender. I didn’t learn all these new cheers for nothing. “T-I-G-E-R-S! We’re better than the rest!” I say hopping up and down. Eddie nods, a soft smile on his face. “That’s great, babe. So cute.” But I don’t want to be cute right now. I want to be hot. And I want Eddie to think I’m hot. So I toss my pompoms to either side of the room and the corners of Eddie’s lips curl into a smirk. I grab the remote from my nightstand and push a button to make my record player start. “Is this love” by Whitesnake plays from the corner of my room. Eddie chuckles and shifts in his seat, getting comfortable. I walk over to him slowly and begin swirling my hips to the beat, letting my hair fall behind my back. I close my eyes and get lost in the music.

Eddie’s eyes are glued to me. He’s staring at my legs, the little peek of skin between my skirt and top and my face, lips parted, eyelids fluttering and covered in sparkles. He’s never seen anything so beautiful. “Is this love or am I dreaming?” the song lyrics swirl around in his head.

I open my eyes and I’m suddenly closer, in between Eddie’s spread thighs. My palms plant on his shoulders and I shimmy my body shamelessly inches from his face. His hands reach up and rest behind my knees, slowly grazing up the backs of my thighs and under my skirt to squeeze palmfuls of my ass in each hand. He bites his lip, his eyes so low I could count every long, pretty eyelash framing his big brown eyes. His hands slide back down to my knees, pulling them forward so I can sit on his lap.

His lips find mine and we kiss for the rest of the song. My brain goes blank, thoughts and games leaving my conscious. All I care about is this feeling that I’m feeling in this moment with Eddie. My bully? My boyfriend? I’ve lost track at this point.

I feel Eddie’s hand start to unzip the side of my tank top. I raise my arms so he can slip it off over my head and my tits spill out, bouncing against my chest, nipples already hard. “Mmm no bra baby?” Eddie rasps as his warm hands grab my boobs and squeeze. I shake my head. “Don’t really need it in this kind of top… besides, the girls say a little extra jiggle looks good during the routines.”

Eddie’s eyes turn from hungry to worried to puppy dog in the span of about half a second. “The basketball team really is going to be all over you.” He says sounding truly worried. He lets his head fall back and hit the headrest of the couch, his hands still gripping my hips, his eyes squeezed shut. I place my hands on either side of his neck softly, his skin’s warm and I can feel his pulse thumping under my fingers. “No they’re not Eddie.”

His head shoots back up and his eyes resemble an owl’s. I giggle, “ok well even if they try,” I push the hair away from his eyes, “it won’t matter.” “It won’t?” He asks hopefully. “Mm mm.” I shake my head. “Cause you’re the only one that matters to me.” I relax my thighs, sitting fully on Eddie’s lap. I can feel how hard he is already. “No other guy could make me feel the way you do.” I purr.

He groans. Eddie Munson fucking groans. And his hands are squeezing my hips so hard it’s starting to hurt. But I like it. He smiles softly at me before turning his attention back to my exposed breasts, his thumbs rubbing and pinching my nipples. “So sweet to me baby. How’d I get so lucky?” He smiles up at me and my heart feels like it’s going to burst into a million pieces. I snake my arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug, his leather sleeved arms wrapping around my body and holding me close.

I’m the lucky one. But I’d never tell him that.

more bully!eddie here

Thanks for reading!!

[starlightsearches]

track 8 with eddie!

all i ask is that it’s sub!eddie 🤞

Brat

So I lied earlier about deleting all of the requests for the mixtape milestone 😬 i did get rid of the some of the requests i hadn't started, but i couldn't let go of the ones i drafted, which is good news, because inspiration struck for this one!

Ex-boyfriend! Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, pussy eating, bratty eddie but he gets put in his place super quick, bondage, not a happy ending if you want them to get back together, language, and i think that's it!

You never thought you'd be back on Eddie Munson's doorstep.

Hands hanging heavy at your sides, a little taste of a summer breeze teasing at the hem of your skirt. You'd been full of a strange mixture of righteous fury and sick anticipation on the drive over but it's all gone now, a choking feeling in your throat when you lift up your hand to knock.

And you still can't do it.

Your eyes rake over his completely uninteresting door (are there even interesting doors?)— pockmarked with random dents and dings and sticky residue from long gone flyers—but you study it like it's the Mona Lisa, like it's got the meaning of life hidden somewhere in its peeling paint.

Fuck that. You didn't come here for the meaning of life.

Your knuckles meet the cool metal, once, then twice. The door flies open before you get a chance to drop your hand.

Eddie was waiting for you on the other side.

Heat floods through your entire body—and not the good kind—the oily feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck. Had he been watching you through the peep hole?

He leans casually up in the door frame, arm stretched long above his mess of curls. The smile on his lips is so familiar it makes you ache.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Eddie looks good. Better than the last time you saw him—a little over a month ago, although not much as changed. Kind of stubbly, kind of toned. Still very, very hot.

There's no need to feel guilty for thinking it, but that doesn't stop your stomach from sinking as you drag your eyes down the white t-shirt he wears, band logo faded and the sleeves cut off, knees poking out of the rips in his jeans.

It should be ridiculous—a fucking caricature of a cool guy with his artful rips and the tats littering his arms. A Halloween costume on anybody else. But not on Eddie.

You push past him, like you push past the thought about how tight he wears his jeans. "Don't call me that."

He follows you into the living room of his shitty little apartment, kicking the door closed behind him. "What can I call you, then? Sugar tits?"

He doesn't even pretend to whither under your stare, although you feel like you cut glass with the look you give him.

"I thought I told you not to call me at all. Where is it?"

He's standing too close, looming over you with a little smirk. You can feel how hot his skin is. Feel the warm puff of breath from his nose on your cheeks. "Where's what, gorgeous?"

He never called stuff like that when you were together. Baby was his favorite. Princess when he was feeling sassy. Honey, but only on the rarest occasions, the sweetest mornings. That one always made you weak at the knees.

"The box of my stuff," —you're mad at him, at this, and it hits you hard, has you jamming a finger into his sternum, feeling the wiry muscle of his chest underneath the tee—"the one you left me three desperate messages about."

That humbles him a little bit. A very little bit, but enough to make Eddie shut his mouth for once. He points down the hall behind you.

"Bedroom."

You know the way, but let him lead. It's colder in his apartment than it was outside, the hair on your arms standing up, and you hold yourself a little tighter, cussing yourself out for leaving your jacket in the car.

"You look good," he calls back without turning in your direction, eyes on the clutter covering every inch of the floor, maybe hoping you won't notice the edge in his voice, “going out tonight?"

That was the plan—before this. "Yeah."

"Who with?"

Eddie doesn't even have enough shame in him to look embarrassed about asking, staring at you openly, like he has any right to know anything about your life now that he's not in it.

"You don't know them," you answer, and he laughs.

"Come on, sweetheart. Your friends are my friends."

And yeah, that used to be the case. Robin still called you up some weekends, inviting you out to girls' nights in a sad little tone. You made up excuses every time, but she still called.

Whatever. They were Eddie's friends first.

"Well, I made new ones."

Eddie runs his tongue over his bottom lip, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What’re their names?”

Jesus, he's such an ass.

"Just a bunch of guys I met outside a liquor store. Said they'd buy me shots tonight if I let them motorboat me in the parking lot."

"Har-har," Eddie rolls his eyes, but you didn't miss the look. His concern for you makes you itch. "Seriously, princess, just wanna know if you're keeping good company."

"Well, I'm not. Can I get my stuff now?"

And maybe you feel kind of bad for lying to him, but you can't let him know the truth—that it'll just be you and a couple girls from work. A few glasses of wine and some gossip. Hell, you'll probably be in bed before midnight.

Eddie digs around at the bottom of his closet, producing a cardboard box littered with garbage—a stack of magazines, some stupid teddy bear he won for you at an arcade, and a couple of bras you'd never be able to wear anymore with the way Eddie's spit is probably permanently fused in the fabric.

A wasted trip.

You try to take the box from him, but Eddie's grip doesn't budge.

"I can carry it out to your car, sweetheart," he says, standing up tall, "unless those biker guys are out there waitin' for you."

"I never said they were bikers," you respond, adjusting your grip on the box, pulling it tighter to your chest. It just has Eddie taking another step closer, big, warm hands sliding over yours.

"Good, 'cause I don't think bikers are your type."

He's whispering a little, lowering his voice all sexy in the way that always used to get you into bed with him.

Not this time.

"Oh fuck you, Eddie. What would you know about my type?"

"Uh, at least a little, honey," he laughs, smiling wide and boyish—so confident, self-assured.

"Don't—" you snatch the box out of his hands, "call me honey."

That's the landmine he's been waiting for you to step on. Eddie looks at you, ready to mash all your buttons until he figures out which ones will have you on him. You wish he wasn't so close to the right combination.

He stalks closer, trapping you up against the closet door, both hands planted above your head. You can't feel anything below your knees.

Voice low, breath wet up against your ear, Eddie says, "what are you gonna do about it, honey?"

The box falls with a whump, spilling all your shit across Eddie's bedroom floor. It's nothing compared sound of your body slammed against the door when your lips finally meet his.

You don't know who started it—whether it was your hands tangled up in his hair or him pinning you in place with his hips. You just know you don't want it to stop.

Eddie's running hot—hot hands at your waist and stubbly skin scratching up your jaw and his whole, hot body pressing up against you, moving just the way you like.

Liked.

You push his hands away with both of yours, trapping them against his sides, but it's not enough to stop him, his mouth at your neck.

"Come on, honey," he whispers, "I said I was sorry."

"I don't want an apology, Eddie."

He tries again, fingertips just brushing against your hips. He looks at you, eyes a little sad, a little too honest.

"Then what can I do to get you back?"

Fuck him. You didn't come here for that either. There's only one thing you want from Eddie Munson, and it's not a box full of bras.

"Get on your knees."

You're surprised his bones don't break with the speed he falls to the floor, thumping against the carpet. Hands already pushing up the hem of your skirt, face pressed low against your stomach. Maybe he's missed this as much as you.

"God, baby," he whispers against your thighs, fingers snaking under the hip of your lacy underwear, "knew you couldn't stay away."

Your knee juts out against his sternum, pushing him back.

"Stop that."

The look on his face is a little stupid, jaw dropped open and his brows furrowed. You were never like this when you were together, always deferring to him in one way or another. But you’re not together anymore.

You crouch down to his level, tracing the tips of your nails over the distended veins in his neck. Eddie's lids flutter, and then fall closed when your lips run over the same path, hand stroking faintly down his arm.

"You don't get to touch me, Eddie," you tell him, and he starts to nod, until his eyes flicker open again and he gets a good look at you, zeroed in on your tits and the low-cut of your dress.

"I- I don't, I mean . . . how?"

You slip the black bandana from his back pocket, give his ass a little squeeze. "Don't worry, honey, I'll help you out."

Eddie doesn't fight you when you push his wrists together, wrapping the cloth around them. He just stares, like he's trying to make sure this isn't a dream, his throat trembling when you pull the knot tight, letting the coarse fabric bite into his skin. You can almost hear a moan on his lips. But maybe you just imagined that.

Besides, you're not worried about what he likes right now.

Back on your feet, you rest your shoulders against the door, jutting your hips out toward him. Eddie looks up at you, big eyes wider than you've ever seen them, wiggling his wrists a little to see if there's any give.

You raise a brow, nudging at the ripped knee of his jeans with your bare toes. "Well?"

Whatever doubts Eddie may have had, they're out the window the second he sees you lifting up your skirt, revealing more and more of the soft skin of your thighs, the black lace you're wearing underneath it.

"Jesus, honey," he shuffles forward until his face is sandwiched between your thighs again, "you wear these for me?"

There's a little laugh on your lips, if only to cover up the way your breath hitches at the way he kisses at your skin, squeezing you between his teeth.

Even without his hands, Eddie Munson is dangerous.

You shift your legs wider so he can fit better, plant a hand in his hair and pull him closer to where you want him.

"Not a chance, Munson. You think the next guy will like them?"

Eddie can't answer. Not vocally at least. His mouth is busy, tongue splitting your lips, before he stops to rub slow circles over your clit through the fabric. Like he's trying to tell you that there's not gonna be a next guy.

Fuck. You thought you were stronger than that, but maybe he's right.

Because, for all his faults, Eddie really knows how to eat pussy. Even without the use of his hands he's got you shaking—better than the feel of his fingers splitting you open, maybe even better than when he'd rip your underwear off you and dive in, nothing to separate you from the pleasure Eddie loved to give.

Your underwear are soaked, and not just from his spit, the sloppy way Eddie devours you, big eyes dark, looking up at you past the bunched up hem of your skirt. He's got you dripping, a little desperate.

Or more than a little.

Eddie's whispering when he pulls back enough he can speak, and you're shocked you can even hear him with the way he's talking directly into your pussy, and through the buzzing in your ears.

"Come on, princess. Let me taste you."

You snake your free hand down—because you want to, not because he asked, pulling the sticky wet fabric to the side. Eddie whistles low and soft when he sees your glistening cunt, the breeze sending a shiver up your spine when it meets your feverish skin.

He moves back in, slower this time, savoring the taste of you, his tongue peeking into your dripping hole and circling the edges, collecting your cum, drinking you up.

You press tighter against him to improve the angle, one leg coming up to rest on his broad shoulder. Eddie groans and the vibrations go straight to your clit.

Fuck, you're close. Close in a way you haven't been since you slammed the door to this apartment all those weeks ago—the kind of close you'd been looking for with your hand between your legs ever since, losing the feeling every time you were reminded that you should be thinking about anyone but Eddie.

But how could you manage? Head like this was hard to find.

Eddie knows that, the fucker, lips circled around your clit, sucking at you like his life depends on it. Your vision goes dark, eyes rolling back of their own accord. The only thing louder than your moans is the sound of Eddie's sloppy mouth working at your core.

You grind your hips down against his face, riding his mouth when the feeling overtakes you, body buzzing as those little uh uh uhs spill from your lips. Shock waves like fireworks traveling through you with each stroke of his tongue.

Fuck.

Eddie doesn't slow down, still abusing your poor clit, sucking at your puffy lips, trying to drain you of all those moans from you until you've got to drag him away by his hair or else he's gonna make you cum again.

And then you'll never want to leave.

Eddie looks up at you, face shiny, and he smiles.

"How was that?"

And it's almost as thrilling as that orgasm, the way his brain so clearly shuts down and stalls when you shift your clothes back to where they were, unphased, patting his cheek with a patronizing little look.

"Passable. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have plans."

Eddie doesn't have quite enough balance to get back on his feet with his wrists still tied, so he shuffles after you on his knees, tripping on clutter and knocking shit over.

"Wait a second, what about me?"

He waves his hands in front of his face, like you might have forgotten that you tied him up, like it wasn’t the highlight of your day.

"I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out, princess."

You don't even bother to look back, and the satisfaction that washes over you probably feels better than heroin.

You're in the living room before you hear Eddie call out again.

"Hey! You forgot all your stuff!"

He doesn't get a response to that one, either. The last Eddie hears from you is the slamming of his front door.

[ive-been-timebombed]

CHAPTER FOUR

Big emotional moments here.

Oh Danny knew he screwed up the moment he appeared back in his throne The line that went out the door was gone also. Most likely the ghosts sensed the emotions Danny projected onto his haunt and the ghosts scattered not wanting to deal with the nervous and scared ghost king.

He wasn’t thinking when he disappeared at the loud crash! He left his son in a mess! Oh no! But his kid wasn’t scared when he left. So the glass breaking was normal? Oh how he wished he could go back and time and take care of the kid.. but he couldn’t no matter how much he begged Clockwork he knew that. Not to say he didn’t try.. Clockwork didn’t even let him watch his kid grow up.

Danny should visit his baby later. When the helmet thing is off. He can take care of the core problem as he does so. His baby doesn’t know who he was. He didn’t leave a picture or anything with Catherine but the kid did mention something about a picture.. maybe he should go as human? So the kid doesn’t realize he’s the same ghost! Perfect idea!

________

Jason was furiously typing on the laptop. He was searching all he could about ‘The Ghost King’ ‘Phantom’. The only thing coming up was Pariah Dark and a autocorrect to Fenton when he typed a bit too fast.

The link that came up with Fenton said something with ghost so he clicked it. That led him into a black hole of information that just seemed biased. He read all the articles published by the scientists. Then in 2006 they started mentioning a ghost.. a certain ghost that Jason was just looking for.

FENTON WORKS

All the information and weapons you need about ghosts! We are happy to say we have figured out what exactly what ghosts are! This site is made by the Fenton Family.

(Picture of a family of 4. A bigger man than Jason himself in bright orange. A fit woman in blue with ginger hair. The older teen with ginger hair like her mother and a cyan headband. Then a younger teen with black hair like the father and frankly skinny considering his parents.)

Click here to read more

Click here to buy things

Click here to contact us

Jason learned a lot of information about Phantom and the Fentons.. Jason now just needed to find a way to summon the ghost once again and make him talk. The ghost seemed nice and not destroy the world just because he could type of being. Then again Jason wasn’t the most.. sane? Normal? Person to ask about what is normal and not normal. He would ask Dick but he was still likely drugged and concussed. He didn’t want to deal with that. Not to mention Dick also wasn’t normal.

___________

“What the ancients..” Danny muttered looking at himself in the mirror. He transformed back to his human form not even a hour ago and he’s already regretting it. He still looked like his 20 year old self. He didn’t age a day from when he first transformed. The clothes were even the same he left in.. he could only pin point a few differences on his body. Like the more ghostly attributes. The pointer ears, sharper teeth, and paler skin.

Danny knew he should’ve shifted between forms more but it just didn’t seem right without the kid next to him..

—————

“Daaaa! Deeee!” A child’s yelling pierced the air followed by a loud crash then a giggle.

“I’m coming! I’m old- okay. Accept it while you still can.” A young man’s voice came followed by a black hair with white on the back young adult. The man had icy blue eyes and a scar on his bottom lip. The child the man was talking to looked like him.

The child had curly black hair not a hint of white unlike his father. Darker blue eyes that seemed to shine when he saw his father. Chubby cheeks and stubby fingers. The kid was wearing a shirt that had the words ‘I’m just outta this world. Floating by the stars’ surrounded by stars. Along with jean pants and a gray jacket. The shoes stuck out due to the bright yellow color of the rain boots.

“Oh don’t give me that look.. I know I’m only 20! You make me feel 50 years older than I am. Specially with all your sass.” Danny put his hands on his hips and looked down at the kid.

“Aunt Cathy say it comes from you.” Jason put his hands on his hips and looked up at the kid.

“I know it did. I can’t blame anyone else but myself and it’s horrible.” Danny huffed sticking his tongue out at the child which was followed by the kid doing the same to the young adult.

Suddenly the mood changed and Danny’s expression changed into a more somber one. He couched down and looked at the kid.

“Jason, you know how I sometimes leave you with you Aunt Cathy?” Danny felt horrible. His core hurt and he wanted to hug the child and not let go.

“Yeah? But Daddy always comes back so I ain’t scared!” Jason grinned moving forward and putting both hands on the adults face.

“Jason what I say about the hands and other peoples faces?” Danny brought his hands to the kids and pulled the hands off his face but didn’t let go of the kids hands.

“Not to do it.. but don’t worry! I only do it to you!” Jason hopped on his feet unable to stay still like any child.

“Okay, you’re such a bully.” Danny deadpanned, “This is serious Jason, I don’t think I’m coming back this time.”

“What? No. Daddy you gotta come back. You can’t leave .” Jason looked up at his father not really understanding the situation .

“I don’t want to kid but I want you safe and I’m not that.” Danny pulled his son into a hug burying his face into the curly mess that was on top of Jason’s head. He stood up picking up the toddler his arms surrounding the other in a tight hug.

Danny knew it was stupid to say this while he still had the child. He should’ve just left the kid at Catherine’s and not return. But then he thought about the kid getting all ready to come back to him waiting at the door with his to big backpack only for him not to return. He didn’t want that for the kid. He didn’t want his kid to be sitting in front of the door sad because he couldn’t understand what was happening and why his father wasn’t there. He wanted just a bit longer with his child.. even if it was in tears.

————

Jason was sure he had the right man. The scar was exactly the same. It was a line on the bottom right lip the that split into two at the bottom. He didn’t know what to think of the being.. his father? From what his Ma told him. Catherine not Shelia. His father was a good man. A bit too sarcastic for his own good but it also made him funny. He had weird ways of saying things. Never used a saying right or just made it his own. He had a slight lisp and had an accent. Couldn’t cook to save his life and hated toast. Hurt himself with stupid things but was incredibly smart. Could turn a microwave into a gun in a hour alone.

Jason wondered if he got some of those qualities.? Before he died and turned into a monster. Dick always said he had a lisp and used some words wrong. Like fruit loop and ancients.. apparently he used one as an insult and the other as a replacement for some words.

@boopjuice

[miniwheat77]

Wild. (Rudy x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, MINORS DNI! unprotected p in v sex, (sorry if I missed any.)

*not edited*

When people think of Rudy they think of him as a kind, gentle, loving man. And they’re not wrong, not at all. He’s gentle, he’s a good problem solver. He’s good at soothing people when they’re upset in any way. He’s good at de-escalating situations, and he’s a phenomenal getaway driver.

Everyone knows Rudy is a family man, but he doesn’t talk much about his wife. Alejandro has only met her a couple of times and knows that she’s quiet and reserved.

But everything was about to change, because you were coming to work on base as a bookkeeper for Alejandro.

—

When people met you, they were surprised. You were stunning which made sense because of course, Rudy was good looking. But than, talk started around the base.

Alejandro had overheard very gross conversations between a few of his men, making them do push ups and handing out suspensions like candy on Halloween. He didn’t expect Rudy’s wife of all people to be such a big topic. You got plenty of glances from the men on base and it made you uncomfortable and Alejandro was furious obviously. They looked like a pack of hungry wolves and it was absolutely ridiculous behavior.

After about a month or so, everything finally calmed down. Everything slowly started going back to normal, but you were still getting cat called. They would say gross things to you, stare you down. They were ridiculous.

You were sitting in the mess hall, figuring out a spreadsheet and drinking coffee. Rudy and Alejandro were getting coffee, and you were getting frustrated with the conversations you were overhearing from the table near you. “Yeah, I’d hit that. There’s no way Rudolfo is satisfying that.”

That was your last straw. You let out a very exaggerated sigh, standing up and pushing your chair in. Which gathers a few glances from those around you. You stand there with the spreadsheets in your hand. Leaning up against the table with your arms crossed. “You know I’m sitting 5 feet away from you, I can hear absolutely everything you’re saying.” You say. This catches the attention of everyone, including Rudy and Alejandro who are waiting for coffee. “Yeah? So what. Nothing I said was untrue.” He shrugs. He smiles.

You send him a very fake smile.

“Listen.. Sergeant Ramirez right? There’s a reason that none of the women on this base interact with you. Because you’re a total creep who keeps talking about having sex with a married woman.” You laugh. “I don’t know why my sex life is sooooo interesting to you, but since you must know, it’s great. Rudy is satisfying me just fine, I’m a VERY happy wife. But thanks for your.. weirdly obsessive concern.” You step closer, your face only a few inches from his. “If I hear you say “I’d hit that.” One more fucking time, I’m going to hit you right in the jaw with my fist. Am I clear?” You narrow your eyes at him. He’s clearly embarrassed, nodding his head. “Great!” You say. Walking away from your table, down the hall. “Jesus Christ.” Alejandro laughs. “Didn’t realize she had such a fire in her.” Rudy laughs, bringing his coffee up to his lips. “Oh, no tienes idea del tipo de actitud que domino en el dormitorio.” He takes a drink of his coffee, trying not to smile when Alejandro nearly chokes on his. “Jesus Rudy!” He laughs.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Rudy laughs. He’s not wearing his normal gear yet, still just wearing black jeans and a white t-shirt. Wearing that signature comfortable grey jacket he has. He opens the door to your room, seeing you looking over something. “Hey. You alright, amor?” He breathes. You nod your head. Turning to look at him. “Don’t let them get to you.. they’re just.. immature.”

“They don’t get to me, I just hate that they think you’re so soft.” You narrow your eyes, an evil grin playing at your lips. “The Rudy I know is far more devilish than they know.” You roll your eyes. “Yeah? That’s cause I have to do something to combat that fucking attitude of yours.” He crosses his arms. You roll your eyes. “Fuck you Rudy.” You laugh. “Sí, te gustaría eso, ¿no?” He smirks. “Quizás lo haría.” You reply. He snorts, locking the door behind himself. He pushes his jacket off, discarding it on the floor as he makes his way toward you. He cups your face, kissing you hard. Helping you pull your clothes off, only stopping to tug your shirt off. He reaches for his belt but you stop his hand. “Keep it on.” You breath.

He rolls his eyes.

He grasps your wrist, tugging you until your back is to him. His lips ghosting by your ear. “I forgot..” he chuckles. The fabric of his shirt burns your bare skin. “You like the way it rattles when I fuck you.” He whispers. “I hope you think about the way I fuck you anytime you hear something rattling.” He growls, pushing you down onto the bed. You whine as he pulls your hands behind your back, lining his cock up with your aching hole. When he sinks into you, you’re gasping out. Trying to take in a breath. Turning to look at him. He pushes your hips into the mattress, rutting his hips into you. “Fuck Rudy-“ you gasp. He’s breathing hard as he fucks into you, gritting his teeth. No matter how many times he was inside of you, he’d never get used to it.

He tries to keep you quiet as he rocks his hips into yours but he doesn’t really care who hears at this point anymore. You push your hips back into him, and he smiles as he moves away. “I wanna ride you.” You breathe. He smiles. He sees your chair, sitting down in it and you move quickly sit in his lap, lining him up with your entrance again, moaning as you sink down onto him. He rests his hands on your hips, looking up at you as you start to rock your hips into him. “Fuck..” he sighs. “You’re so fucking good at this.” He breathes. “Siéntete tan jodidamente bien mi amor.” He breathes, looking up at you through his eyelashes. His eyes are dark and loving as he looks up at you. “God, no wonder they think you’re so sweet, stop looking at me like that.” You breath, pushing down on his chest and rocking into him, raising up off of him more, taking more of him down. “Ah-“ he moans, a smile still on his face. “I’m not doing anything.” He mutters. “Yeah you are, you keep looking at me like you love me or something.” You giggle, a gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts up into you. “Maybe that’s just because I love you. Love that attitude, love your personality.” He breathes. “Love this perfect body you have, love the way you make me feel. And god do I love watching you put people in their fucking place.” He gasps. Thrusting up into you faster. You clutch onto the chair for dear life. “Me vuelves loca de mierda.” He gasps, tilting his head back.

You cup his cheeks, kissing him as he holds your hips, thrusting up into you. He can feel you getting tighter around him, and he’s fucked you enough to know that you’re close, so he stands up with you, lays you back on your bed, and hammers his hips into yours until your crying out his name. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me.” He breathes. “Muéstrame lo buena chica que eres.” He growls. You reach your peak with a gasp, eyes screwing shut and he pins your hips to the bed so that you can’t squirm away from him as he rides out your high. He grits his teeth, letting out a cry when he reaches his own orgasm. Not pulling out of you even when he knows he should.

He takes a deep breath. Pulling away from you with a sigh, moving himself to lay next to you.

When you make eye contact, he’s got that same look in his eye that makes you laugh. “What?” He rolls his eyes. “Nothing, I love you.” You breathe. “I love you too. Now Cmere.” He breathes, pulling you into him.

A knock at the door has you both going stiff.

“I think you’ve made your point, hermano.”

[freezingmcxn]

hey.. how you doing.. can you maybe make a lil thingy about toby like you did with the eyeless jack thing I'm just really focused on Toby right know idk why but like write it however you want I just want to see your writing on how you rhing he looks and acts take your time you dont even have to do it I love you I love you i love you I love you I love you I love you I lovw you

TOBY ROGERS APPEARANCE (AU)

AHH YES I CAN my motivation is so bad but these always make me really happy and are easy to write so OFC ILY!!

Toby’s hair is a pale, sun-bleached brown, almost blonde, falling to his neck and curling around his ears.

Naturally curly, his hair has become dry and unkempt from bathing in river water and using cheap soap. His curls puff out, lacking any defined shape.

Occasionally, in a fit of frustration, he shaves it all off or trims it, often in a dingy ass gas station bathroom, depending on how much he despises it at the time.

Standing around 5’7” (5’8” in boots), Toby’s constant slouching makes him look as if he might topple over at any moment.

His most noticeable feature is the gash on his mouth, though it’s not as large as one might think.

The wound is just big enough to expose his upper teeth, which are rotted and decayed. Despite its size, the injury reeks of infection, with pus occasionally oozing from the diseased tissue.

Toby often picks at it, making the wound larger over time.

Originally, it was a small bite he inflicted on himself, but his constant fiddling turned it into the gaping wound it is now.

He no longer bites at it, disgusted by the taste of his own decaying flesh. He usually covers it with a large plaster—often supplied by Jack or just lets the air hit it, depending on his mood really.

Toby has a small gold hoop earring in his left ear, a relic from a day when he and Lyra decided to pierce it with a needle. He didn’t feel the pain but kept the earring all these years, occasionally fiddling with it as a reminder of her.

His trusty hatchets dangle from a hardware belt around his waist, always clattering when he moves, a sound he makes sure to emphasise because he knows it irritates people.

The hatchets are mismatched, one is large with a dark oak handle, carved with doodles, while the other is smaller, with a plastic handle, but much sharper—often the one he uses for the first hit.

Both handles are wrapped in duct tape, one of his go-to solutions for everything.

Toby’s skin is sallow, marked by long exposure to the sun. Freckles and moles speckle his body.

His hands are scarred and battered, with half of his left pinky finger missing, and his right hand covered in self-inflicted bite marks. His palms are calloused, his nails ragged—some bruised black, others completely gone.

His teeth are a mess—sharp, chipped, and broken, with gaps where some have been knocked out from fights or lost to decay.

Toby doesn’t bother brushing his teeth, as he often forgets or simply doesn’t care. Eating people doesn’t help either, wrecking his teeth further.

He typically wears the same tattered hoodie for as long as he can stand it, only washing it at a laundromat when absolutely necessary (when it’s bloody and stinky).

He also has an old Joy Division t-shirt layered over a white long-sleeve, both full of holes, though Toby doesn’t mind, he wears it on warmer days.

He’s been wearing the same pair of jeans for five years, patching them up whenever needed—he’s surprisingly good at sewing thanks to Lyra.

On his feet are either old Timberland boots, once his father’s, now worn with a hole in the sole, or a beat-up pair of red Converse, duct-taped at the top.

He alternates between them.

Toby owns a fleece jacket, fingerless gloves, and two beanies—one grey and one black.

The black one is torn and faded, but he likes the way it adds to his look.

He carries everything in a worn blue Jansport backpack he once stole from a kid at a bus stop, where he rams all his clothes and supplies.

I think that’s enough 😭😭 I rambled I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say too much because I fear he won’t be as interesting but yeah! Hope you like him :)

[yellowharrington]

jaded -- chapter 1, carmy berzatto x reader

pairing + fandom: carmen "carmy" berzatto x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used), the bear fx

warnings: sexual content, mention of unprotected piv sex, swearing, workplace relationship. minors dni with this story please.

word count: 1.4k+

a/n: guess who's back... back again... natty's back... tell a friend.... hey besties lol ik its been a year but i've been obsessed with the bear so i decided to write this. it will be a multichaptered fic and i will update it as soon as i've finished writing the chapters lmao. inspired by the song "jaded" by miley cyrus. pls pls pls enjoy

summary: fresh off of his breakup with claire, carmy needs a rebound. he just doesn't expect it to be his pastry chef.

masterlist | chapter 2

It starts with a ride home after service.

The sun had fallen down over the horizon, painting Chicago black with night. It’s chilly, middle of February, and you and Carmy are the only ones left at the restaurant. You’re both at the lockers, grabbing the last of your things and turning off the last few lights, leaving it behind you as you step out into the darkness of the street. Only amber lights are above you, illuminating Carmy’s face, along with the glow of his lighter around his cigarette. “How are you getting home?” He asks, looking down the alleyway. “Just the train,” you reply, gesturing towards the station a few blocks down the road. “Let me drive you,” he smushes the cigarette underneath the toe of his shoe, looking up at you, rather softly. “Oh, it’s not far,” you try to step the other way, before he grabs your shoulder lightly. “It’s cold, and fuckin’ dark, and there’s murderers. Just let me drive you home.” He was nothing if not protective. 

It really had been a short drive, slow tunes coming from his old car’s radio, drowned out by the sounds of the city around you. It was generally silent, Carmy’s hand on the gear shift. “It’s just up here,” you gesture to the building up the street. “Just take a right.” He does, obeying your action, pulling up in front of a 3-floored walk-up. “Thanks,” you grab your backpack by your feet, opening the door and giving him a small look before stepping out. “Hey, listen,” you start. His eyes are dark, sunken, tired. He’s wearing his usual wool jacket around a cozy navy blue sweater. “I was working on something before work this morning. A… a dish. Can I show you really quick? And you can tell me what you think?” He looked at the time on his phone, and then up at you. Baby blue eyes, peering from under thick lashes. “Sure, chef,” he says quietly as he puts his car in park and unbuckles the seatbelt. 

When you walk him up to your apartment, he’s endeared. You let him in, and your place smells of vanilla candles and laundry, from the load you’d done before work earlier that day. “Sorry about the mess,” you gestured to small pile of plates and spoons in the sink, and the aforementioned unfolded laundry on the couch. “You’d lose your mind if you saw my place if you think this is mess,” he laughed, pushing a hand through his soft golden hair. Your own coat comes off as you make your way into the kitchen, and he has to stop himself from staring. Your tight jeans fit your body perfectly, white t-shirt coming up over your hips only enough for him to see a dark tattoo on the back of your hip. You poured him a cup of cold water and put it in front of him, before firing up the burner on your stove and putting a stainless steel pan on the orange-blue flame. “Make yourself at home.”

He wandered around your apartment a bit, peering into your bedroom. Soft white bed, soft sheets, big fluffed pillows. An open window, letting a chilly breeze in, curtains slightly swaying with the night air. It reminds him of her, her soft sheets, big eyes, the nights he slept next to Claire and kissed her supple cheeks and pink lips. She was like this too; eager, clean, happy, simple. Easy to be with, and easy to like. You’d given off a similar energy the same day you walked into the restaurant on your first day, and you had reminded him of her. Kind eyes, warm presence, but with a different demeanour that chefs almost always had. A jaggedness, he thought. 

The sound of the plates being put on your small kitchen table snapped him out of his daydreams, as you held out a fork for him. “It’s a, uh, mango custard, bit of toasted cardamom and coconut cream in there, and, um, a coconut macaroon with a homemade chutney.” He raises his eyebrows at the dish before him, plated beautifully, and takes a small bite of each component. You seem to wait for hours as he takes his time, feeling every ingredient on his tongue before setting down his fork on the small white plate. “It’s tremendous, chef,” he says quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Almost perfect. Could use maybe an acid, it’s a little sweet, but, wow,” he looks up at you to see your wide eyes, excited at his answer. This was, essentially, the highest praise from Carmy you could get. “Thank you,” you say quietly, watching as he takes another forkful of the dessert. 

“What’s the tattoo on your hip?” he asks, pointing at the right side of your body, where your shirt had ridden up before. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since he caught a glimpse. “Oh, um,” your cheeks turned a soft shade of red, standing up to lift up your shirt and show him. “It’s, uh, a snake. It goes down my leg too,” you pull down the waistband of your jeans just enough to show him a bit more of the ink, further exposing the thin strap of the black thong you had on. “Got it a long time ago, in school. Just wanted to feel cool I guess.” He stands up, slowly, coming to lightly pin you against the counter. It’s safe, it’s easy, and suddenly it feels so fucking right to have him here under the dim kitchen light. “Can I see the rest of it?”

All bets are off, then. Your jeans are pooled around your ankles in a second as he’s feverishly kissing your lips, hands everywhere, his calloused palms against your soft ass. His sweater is off, along with his signature white tee, showing off the glistening gold chain against his bare chest. You’ve managed to push his jeans down just enough to slide a hand into his waist band, eliciting a soft, breathy moan from him into your mouth.

When you stumble back into your bedroom, it’s all a blur. It’s hot skin against hot skin, his lips leaving a trail of kisses along your neck as his hands work their way in between your wet folds. They’re so gentle, yet he knows what he’s doing, so the slow circles on your clit as he lets himself rut against you are making you unbelievably wet for him. “I want you so fucking badly,” he pants into your ear, letting a finger easily plunge into you as you open your legs wider for him. “Is this a good idea, Carmy?” you let your fingers thread through his hair, allowing him to look up at you. His usual baby blues were dark again, lustful and wanton. “No,” he says matter-of-factly, but the smirk on his lips is so unbelievable, a cruel man above you. “Should we do it anyways?” You ask, your own smile playing on the corners of your mouth, allowing your hips to rut against his fingers, fucking yourself to feel more of him. He takes a large hand to your breast, letting it slide up, thumb slipping onto your lower lip and into your mouth. “Yeah… yeah, of course we fucking should.”

It’s so easy with him, which is what makes it so hard. He knows right where to kiss, where to touch, where to love on your body. He knows to take his hands to your sides, pushing you into the mattress as he laps at your clit and kisses your inner thighs, looking up and watching you take your own tits in your hands, squeezing them together, looking down at him with such need. He knows to slide up between your legs, and to cradle your neck in his hand, his thick cock plunging into you and making you weak, making his thumb wet with his own spit and bringing you to your orgasm, spasming around him, moaning his name into his mouth like a prayer. It doesn’t take much longer after that for him to spill inside of you, warm and deep, lips locked around his as you helped him ride his orgasm out. And it feels right, and real, when he lays next to you and kisses your chest and arms before falling into a deep sleep, your soft comforter over his chest. It all feels so fucking right, that first time.

But the next morning, all you have is an empty bed. And it doesn’t feel right anymore.

[corroded-hellfire]

not sure if you’re taking requests, but could you write something where perv!eddie has a thing for the reader and they catch on to it? they act like they’re sore from a work out or something and ask eddie for a back rub. (cue them making happy moaning noises and asking him to go deeper/harder and making poor eddie lose his mind)

Perv!Eddie is amazing. 18+ because of spicy themes.

Words: 1.2k

Eddie is not nearly as slick as he thinks he is. He’s not sly about asking you to take a look at his geometry problems when you’re wearing a low-cut top, where you have to bend over his desk to look at his work. He’s not fooling anyone when he “accidentally” spills some water on your white shirt—conveniently right over your nipples. Honestly, he’s lucky he’s so cute and that you have a big fat crush on him, or he’d be in deep shit.  

After no sign of Eddie easing up on his perviness, you decide to start teasing him. Just subtly at first, by wearing a sweater on a day that’s too warm for one, just so you can strip it off in front of him, or acting annoyed when you see a piece of trash on the floor of the hallway, so you have to bend over to pick it up, giving him a perfect view of your ass. As completely unsubtle he is about being perv, he’s even less so when he tries to adjust himself in his pants. Maybe it’s just because you know to look out for it, but you’re pretty sure he’s always sporting a boner around you. You were hoping all the teasing would get him to finally say something, but he’s a stubborn teenage boy so it seems like you’ll have to amp it up. 

You waited for a day when you knew Eddie had Hellfire right after school to ask him to pick you up from the gym on his way home. He’d drive right past it anyway, so it seemed like a simple, normal request. But the moment you see his van pull up to the curb of the gym, your plan gets set into motion. 

Rolling out your neck, you walk around to the passenger’s side of the van. Opening the door, you pull yourself up, making sure to do it with some extra gusto so your breasts bounce slightly.

“Thanks for picking me up,” you say as you buckle your seatbelt. 

“Yeah, no problem.” You’re not sure if he’s even aware that he’s ogling your chest. “Want me to take you home?”

“Can we hang out at your place?” you ask.

“Sure.”

The drive to Eddie’s place is short, and when you get out of the van and walk up the few steps to the front door, you make sure to emphasize the motion of your hips. Inside, you head straight back to Eddie’s bedroom, leaving him no choice but to follow you. When he steps in the room behind you, you plop down on the bed and sigh as you bring a hand up to your shoulder.

“You, uh, okay?” Eddie asks as he shrugs out of his leather jacket.

“Really sore from the workout,” you say, stretching out the muscles in your neck. “Would you mind giving me a back rub?”

“Oh,” Eddie says, clearly taken off guard. He raises his eyebrows as he slowly inches towards the bed. “Yeah, okay.” 

Doing your best to suppress your smirk, you roll onto your stomach and lay your head on Eddie’s pillow. When you feel his body weight sink onto the bed next to you, you slip your hands beneath the pillow and wriggle your ass under the guise of getting more comfortable. 

“Where, uh, where should I rub?” Eddie asks, voice shaky. 

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

The bed shifts a little as Eddie leans in, and his strong warm hands land on the middle of your back. You’re forced to bite your lip to keep from letting out an instantaneous moan. That’s meant to be saved until he’s been massaging you for a bit. His thumbs dig into the muscles along your spine. 

“Oh, that’s so good,” you say. The room is so quiet you can hear the brief hitch in Eddie’s breathing. You swell with satisfaction, knowing he hasn’t heard anything yet.

“Right there!”

“S’g-good?” Eddie asks. 

“Ugh, yes. Harder.”

The bed moves beneath you and the mental image of Eddie needing to adjust his hips has you smirking to yourself. Deciding to really mess with him, you inhale before letting out a purely pornographic moan. 

There’s a sharp inhale from above you, but he’s quick to cover it by letting out a few fake coughs. 

“Shit, deeper Eddie.”

His hands hesitate against your thin shirt, only for a second, before he’s digging deeper into your muscles. Letting out another moan, you silently wonder how long you should keep this going. A soft grunt escapes from Eddie and you figure you’ve tortured the poor boy enough. Slipping your hands out from underneath the pillow, you push yourself up and swing your legs around Eddie so that you’re sitting next to him. 

His hands are in his lap—conveniently over his crotch—and he twists his rings around. There’s a rosy color on his cheeks that looks like it’s spreading. A smug smirk comes to your face when he can’t meet your eyes. It seems like he’s looking anywhere but at you.

“So,” you say, leaning in towards him. “How about I give you a different kind of massage?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he finally meets your gaze, and you hear him audibly swallow. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out as he turns impossibly redder. Giggling, you lean in even further towards him, giving him a peek down your shirt. His eyes dart down to your chest before back up to your face. When you bite your lower lip, he looks away from you again.

“Y-You don’t have to do that,” he finally says. 

“Eddie,” you say. “Do you really think I’m that mean that I would tease you like that and not help you out?”

As wide as Eddie’s eyes were before, they grow three times the size now as his head shoots towards you. 

“That was all on p-purpose?” he stammers.

“Of course,” you say with a giggle. “You haven’t exactly been subtle lately, Eddie. Figured I’d see how far I could push it before you said something. Turns out you’re about as stubborn as I am, though.”

“Well, shit,” Eddie says, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, you pushed it pretty far.”

“So, let me help you out,” you drawl, hand ghosting over his thigh. Eddie’s quick to catch your wrist though, letting out a hiss through his teeth.

“I, uh, really don’t need it,” he says. You drown in confusion until Eddie moves his other hand off of his crotch. There’s a wet spot on the front of the denim and you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh, guess so. Well.” You swing your leg over both of his until you're sitting in his lap, straddling his thighs. “I’m pretty sure I could work you up again. What do you say? Up for the challenge?”

Eddie laughs and shakes his head. “Not gonna be much of a challenge at all, baby.” 

He flops back on the bed, pulling you down with him. Giggling, you press your lips to his and start to work your hips against his body. Almost instantly, you feel a stir in the denim below him. No, this would not be a challenge at all.

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

His Princess

Pairing: Bang Chan x Gender neutral reader

Type: Ansgt? Fluff?

Word Count: ~960

Warnings: Mention of anxiety/panic attacks, use of Princess

an: this is a repost from my recently deceased blog hyunjins-orange-slice. may she rest in peace. this was my first ever post on tumblr and it is glaringly obvious.

masterlist

You knew there was a chance he could be here. You haven’t seen him yet, but this is totally the type of event he would attend. You were here with some friends from work and you were already ready to leave. Lots of people all in one place really wasn’t your jam, especially now since he’s on your mind again. You haven’t thought about Christopher in a long time. A mutual decision to part ways once he started to gain success in his field was the reason you hadn’t seen him in years. You follow his social media so you have some sort of idea what he’s been up to these days but most of the time it’s too painful to look at, so you don’t. You were clearly still in love with him, but you refuse to let yourself wallow. He moved on and is doing great and you were happy for him. You’re not doing too bad yourself, just got a promotion at work and things seem to be looking up. Still no luck in the relationship department, but that’s to be expected when you’re not emotionally available. You were fairly certain your coworker, Adam, had feelings for you. He was nice enough, but you didn’t want to lead him on. He was standing here next to you now.

“Everything alright y/n?” He asked, hand on your shoulder. There was loud music coming from the main conference hall and there were plenty of people milling about around you in the lobby. People kept bumping into you on their way to wherever they were going and it was only making your anxiety worse.

“Yeah I’m fine.” You tell him, nodding. He doesn’t believe you. Your breathing has quickened and your wringing your hands. He knows that pressing the issue will only make things worse for you though, so he lets it go.

“Should we go find our seats?” Your other coworker asks over Adams shoulder. It was Summer. You liked Summer. Like the season she was named after, she was warm and full of sunshine. You nod at her and follow her and Adam toward the conference hall, weaving in and out of groups of people chatting and catching up before the event starts. You don’t notice him at first, your looking at your feet as you walk, but he notices you.

“Is that Chris?” Summer asks, to no one in particular. Your breath catches in your throat. You look up and see a group of eight men gathered together near the door to the conference hall. And the one closest to the door, and staring directly at you, is Christopher. He’s smiling at you and you think you might throw up. Your group slowly approaches his group and you notice Adam is walking a little closer to you now. He is aware of your past with Christopher, they all are. As you get close to the door to the conference hall, Chris breaks away from his group and approaches you. He can tell from the look on your face that you are about to freak out and run. A voice comes over the intercom system announcing the conference will be starting soon. Everyone in the lobby heads for the doors and you get jostled around. Frozen to your spot, you’re unable to move out of the throng of people as they continue to file into the hall, pushing you out of their way as they go. You’ve lost Adam and you’ve lost Summer, but a strong hand closes around your arm and pulls you free of the people. Thankful to be out of that mess, you take a deep breath and look up to face your savior. And there he was, Christopher. His black suit jacket is snug across his shoulders, the pants snug around his thighs. He’s not wearing a tie, just a white button up shirt with the top two buttons undone. His black hair fell in his face a little bit as he pulled you closer. His arms circled around your shoulders, and yours around his waist and you sighed. Your head pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, all the fear and anxiety melts away and it’s as if it hasn’t been years since you’ve seen him. He feels exactly as he did on the day he left you, strong and warm. He squeezes you tightly and your hands slide under his jacket to cling to the shirt underneath, balling it in your fists. His cheek rests on the top of your head.

“You find me before you leave. Yeah?” He asked. You nodded yes against his chest, your heart swelling with the happiness you feel in this moment. He kissed the top of your head. “My princess.” He whispered against your hair. You thought your heart might burst. Grinning like an idiot you looked up at him. He was gazing down at you, his eyes filled with so much love. You knew the conference was starting, you knew you both had to find your seats, but you just couldn’t let him go. He kissed your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which you scrunched up in return. He had never seen anything cuter. He pecked your lips for the first time in forever and your felt your knees go weak. He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, and entering the main hall.

Alone in the lobby, you stared after him. A mixture of happiness and sadness within you. So happy to have seen him and had this moment but so sad that it was over. You knew he would be going back to wherever he was at in life these days and you would be here, still waiting, still utterly desperate for him. His princess.

🚨reminder: this blog is 18+ only. i’ve been getting a lot of new followers (which i greatly appreciate) but if there’s no age identifier on your blog, i’m blocking you no questions asked. (for my own sanity and peace of mind.) ik some people don’t actually go to my page to read the warnings, so im going to start attaching a warning at the bottom of all my posts. thanks for understanding. 💕

[goldenchimmy]

Pumpkin Picking

Pairings: Kim TaehyungxFem!Reader

Cw: Just some cute fall fluff!!

You go to the pumpkin patch with your boyfriend Kim Taehyung

The air was a bit chilly as you wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck. Covering your nose and mouth in the process. You didn't think that the cold would set in so quickly this month. It had been so hot the last few days.

"Cold?" Came the voice of your boyfriend, Kim Taehyung. His eyes were full of concern as he went to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you against the warmth of his own jacket-clad body.

The two of you were walking along a gravel path down towards a small towns Fall Festival. You had spotted a big pumpkin patch full of the orange gourds while the two of you were heading out of town for vacation, and you had practically made Taehyung swerve into the next lane so you could go.

Taehyung didn't mind though. He loved doing anything for you and joining you on small adventures like this. The man all but happy as he held you close, your breath coming out in little puffs once your scarf fell back around your chin.

"Where are we going to put the pumpkins when we get home?" He asked you gently, making you shrug. "I haven't thought that far yet. I just wanted to do something for Fall and I saw the pumpkins!" You giggled. The man next to you chuckling as he drew you in close again.

"Alright. Are we painting them or carving?" He asked as the two of you entered the stretch of field before you. A little wooden booth to the right side of the both of you where you would pay for your pumpkins at the end. A little old woman conversing with a mother and her child.

Maybe someday that could be you and Tae.

"Hmm... most likely painting them. Since carving them would require a mess. And we don't want to stain our carpet or anything." You nodded. Tae agreed with a hum of approval as he let you go, rubbing his gloved hands together.

"Maybe I can take a few photos of you while we're here?" He asked, his camera bag slung over his torso. He liked taking photos of things. Capturing moments that were precious to him. And you were the most precious of all.

"Yeah maybe!" You smiled, taking his hand in yours and walking out towards the rows of growing pumpkins. Speckles of orange and white sprinkled throughout the expanse of field. Tae had gone and got the required clippers from the lady at the booth, returning triumphantly with a smile as he motioned out before you.

"Well, let's go pick one." He grinned, handing you the clippers and watching you walk off with purpose into the leaves. It was a good thing you decided to wear boots today instead of heels. The number of times you almost tripped over a root or rock was too many to keep count of. But it didn't stop Taehyung from laughing at you. His smile big as he recovered to pull out his camera.

He always liked taking candid shots of you. Ones you weren't aware of. Ones that you were the center of. You were his muse when it came to the flash of his camera. The number of photos he had of you at home was a gross amount.

When you found a pumpkin that suited what you were looking for, you smiled and crouched down to cut at the stem, heaving a bit as you picked it up. The gourd was about the size of your head, and it made you wobble a bit as you carefully managed the terrain on your way back to Tae.

"I got one!" You exclaimed breathily, your eyes on the pumpkin in your grasp when you heard the soft click of a camera. Your eyes meeting Tae quickly, only to realize that he was holding his camera up to your face. Catching the dying sunlight hitting your hair.

"Sorry, I just had to." He smiled sheepishly, letting the camera dangle around his neck as he helped you set the pumpkin down into a little wagon he had gone and retrieved.

"Are you going to go get one now?" You asked, staring back out at the field. Tae just shook his head, wrapping an arm around your waist. "I think one is good. We can always come back to get another one." He smiled, nosing your flushed cheek.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." You giggled, turning to peck his lips quickly. "Come on. Let's go pay for this and go home." You smiled, taking his hand while his other grabbed the wagon to pull it behind you both.

Tae suddenly stopped you in your tracks, making you turn to look at him. "Hey, what's up?" You asked before following his gaze. It was a small apple cider booth, an older man ladling out portions into little plastic cups.

"Let's get some before we go." He smiled, moving now towards the little setup. You only followed as you held onto his hand, the wind ruffling his hair and yours as you did.

"Two cups, please." Tae smiled, paying the man. He handed you a cup and walked over to sit on an old wooden bench, the wagon with the pumpkin in it next to him. He sipped at the hot drink, sighing in contentment before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you into him.

You smiled, drinking from your own cup of cider as you relaxed against your boyfriend. The warmth of the liquid making the chill not quite as harsh as it was. "Thank you for turning around." You hummed, turning your face to look at him.

Tae smiled, nodding slightly. "I'd do anything to make you happy." He chuckled, his soft eyes meeting yours as he leaned in to peck your lips. The two of you weren't usually the type to do display PDA so openly, but when his lips met yours, all you could think about was how good he tasted and how warm he was.

Tae was the first to pull away with a breathy chuckle, kissing you on the nose before smiling. "I love you. " He breathed, his cheeks rosy from the kiss. You just smiled and nodded. "I love you too Tae-Tae."

Once the two of you had finished your drinks and walked back up the slight incline of hill, the wagon pulling behind Tae, it was you who walked to the booth and paid for your pumpkin. The lady smiling at you behind the glass window that separated you both.

"He took a lot of pictures of you. He must love you a lot." She smiled sweetly. It made you blush as you nodded, handing her cash for your find.

"I think he does." You agreed. It made the woman ponder for a moment. "I've never seen a man turn a car around so quickly. He loves you dearly. Cherish that."

You smiled, nodding a few times before returning to Taes side. The man carrying the pumpkin all the way back to the car. It was a silent walk back this time, your heart full when you climbed back into the car. Your pumpkin secured in the seat so it wouldn't roll away or break.

Tae pulled back out onto the road, heading home now as the sun sank below the horizon, his one hand on the wheel and the other grasping yours. "Are you okay?" He asked, eyes watching the road.

You nodded quickly. "Yeah. Thank you for today." You smiled, looking over at him. "I know how much you like Fall." He said back, smiling. "It was worth it to see the smile on your face."

If your heart could explode it probably would have then. You loved this man next to you. And he loved you the same.

When you arrived home and put the pumpkin on the kitchen counter, the two of you dressed in comfy pajamas and cuddled on the couch. The TV playing Halloween movies. Taes arms wrapped around you as you sat between his legs. His chin resting on the top of your head.

You were dozing in and out, your head fell back against his chest. His fingers rubbing slow circles into your sides. "Mm...I love you." You whispered, yawning gently.

Tae looked down at you, smiling as he pulled you closer into his lap so you color sleep. "I love you too, sweetheart." He breathed.

"And just so you know, if you were a pumpkin in that patch, I would have picked you." He mumbled, his lips ghosting your hairline before sleep took you.

[accio-sriracha]

Wolfstar Sucked at Hiding their Relationship.

~~~♤~~~

At first they agreed to keep it a secret.

Nobody else in the group had come out yet and being gay was still an up in the air thing.

Sirius' cousins didn't make this process any easier.

Nobody noticed anything at first.

Sure, they held hands sometimes under their desk,

And sat with their bodies completely touching shoulder to shoes.

But they were Padfoot and Moony, they've always been close.

It wasn't until Sirius showed up to breakfast with messy eyeliner that someone noticed something was off.

Sirius never messed up his eyeliner.

So he casually explained he let Remus do it for him.

Nothing else was said until a few days later when James realised Remus was wearing rings.

But not just any, rings made of white-gold.

And he casually explained that they were Sirius'.

It wasn't until their potions lesson later that week that things started to make a little more sense than just odd, out-of-place accessories.

Remus kept his head down the whole class, Sirius gently stroking his hair while he stared up at the board and wrote the lecture in Remus' notebook.

They only excused it with Remus was tired that day.

Which was the same excuse they used for Sirius when they walked in to find him fast asleep in Remus' lap while he read a book, also playing with Sirius' hair.

Then came the nicknames.

Sirius exclusively referred to Remus the following week with cheesy pet names.

"Thank you, my moon."

"Of course, darling."

"Everything alright, love?"

It started to catch the attention of more than just the Marauders.

Clothes started swapping between them like insults used to.

Sirius would come downstairs in Remus' jumper.

Remus would walk around Hogsmeade is Sirius' leather jacket.

Sirius showed up in Remus' scarf one night, the ends hanging down nearly to his knees.

Remus accidentally kissed Sirius in front of the others and then had to cover by kissing every one of their friends afterwords.

This happened on more than one occasion.

The day they found the pair cuddled beside each other while they slept was the day James had had enough.

Finally they confessed, expecting a big uproar.

But everyone already knew.

Obviously.

So the pair stopped trying to hide it, and to everyone else's surprise, the affection only increased.

Sirius walking around with his collar undone to show off fresh hickeys.

Remus wearing Sirius' quidditch practice jersey on game days to support him.

Sirius began a collection of various knitted items hand made from his adorable boyfriend.

The use of the word babe may as well be patented at this point.

The others were happy for them, of course.

But if they found one more R+S sign carved absolutley anywhere, they were going to lose it.

~~~♤~~~

[duskspring]

Chores and a Show - Copia/GN!Reader fic

Domestic December - Day 2

Summary: You help Copia with his paints before a ritual

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Google translate Italian as per fandom tradition, some insecurity on Copia’s side but it’s all ok in the end

Word count: ~1.7k

“Stop being so squeamish." You said to Copia, trying to sound gentle and not make him feel bad. He could be extra sensitive before a ritual, but you’d already told him to settle down twice.

"It's not my fault you tickle me, amore."

You playfully scoffed, trying to resume getting him ready. You added some black onto the brush.

"Close your eyes for me.” When he did, you started dragging the colored hairs over his eyelids and the surrounding area.

You were laser focused. Copia deserved nothing but perfection.

You startled the brush back slightly when he put his hands on your hips. You'd been straddling his lap the whole time to get as close as possible, but he’d kept his hands down up to this point.

"Copia." You say in fun-loving warning as you color his other eyelid.

"I'm behaving." He claimed, though he smirked like he had more up his sleeve.

When you moved to add a second layer, his hands dipped a little lower to your rear.

"Preshow's already on, we don't have forever.” You reminded him.

“All the more reason to enjoy your company while I can.” You had to pull back again when he smiled, not being able to work if his eyes were crinkled up.

Stopping for a moment did give you the chance to take a good look at his face. His freckles and any blemishes you usually loved mapping out were already covered up with white, but his wrinkles, the proof of his fast life experience and wiseness were still visible clearly enough for you to admire. Not that you’d admit to that, knowing Copia didn’t like them being pointed out.

“Does it look ok?” He noticed your staring, taking it to mean something was wrong. His voice sounded so small, almost childlike.

Your expression softened further, but still you took the chance to tease him a bit, “It will, as soon as you let me do my job.”

He chuckled briefly, trying to get his worries out, before straightening his face. His hands dutifully moved back to your hips.

The rest of the work went well. You’d gotten plenty of time to practise back at the abbey. Doing this for him was just another way for you to prove your devotion to him and try to help him out any way you could. He, in return, appreciated your perfectionism in the act, always insisting on starting over if it wasn’t just right.

He would never understand just how hard it was for you, however. He was still shirtless, apart from his suspenders you couldn’t believe he could wear against his bare skin. He looked good enough to eat. Though the only person you had to blame for that distraction was yourself. You were the one encouraging him to not be in costume yet when you painted his face. You had faith in your skill but the last thing you wanted would be to accidentally stain that beautiful military style jacket of his.

You took a steady breath, before holding it in. You refused to allow yourself to mess up the thin lines on the sides of his face.

Copia would love nothing more than to cheer you on or tell you something to calm your nerves, but it was his job right now to remain still.

You pulled back after the second line was done, letting out a big sigh of relief after having not messed it up.

“Stay very still.” You told him next, angling his head a little further back.

He wasn’t sure what you were gonna do, but he would never question your process. Not after your flawless track record. Because it was you.

You were shaking slightly, the small adrenaline rush you always got catching up with you. Still, you smiled. You smiled at the man that made everyday just a little better. A man that you knew would go through hardship and hell to make you happy. He was everything, with or without the paint, because it was him.

You lean in closer, his hold on your hips instinctively tightening to help keep you steady. You press your lips to his. They were the only part of him still unpainted.

Still, you kiss him softly, not wanting to blemish the surrounding paint. Copia sits up the slightest bit, trying to follow you when you pull back with a self satisfied look on your face.

“Almost there, love.” It was a matter of coloring his lips and you’d be done at last.

Still you didn’t allow yourself to slack in that department. You couldn’t speak for the rest of his audience, but you certainly enjoyed looking at his lips a lot, so they too had to look pristine.

You wished you could stay and look at him for another few hours, but a quick glance at the clock revealed the disappointing need to start wrapping it up.

You patted his hands on your hips, “Up we go.” You smiled, standing up and quickly stretching you back as Copia followed you.

As soon as you straightened your posture he stepped closer to you and put his gloved hands on your cheeks, “I would kiss you again if I could. Thank you so much, amato mio.”

You lean your head sideways into his hold, “No need you thank me at all. I love getting to do this for you.” As a last sign of affection before having to move on, you turned your head a little to kiss his palm.

You stepped away to the clothing rack that stood against the walls. All of his costumes for the night were hung up in order, ready for his quick in between costume changes. You grabbed the one on the end of the rack, the previously mentioned beautiful military style suit. It gave Copia an edge, a sense of authority he deserved as Papa.

When you faced him again, he looked the part as well. It was like watching an actor morph into character; he stood up straighter, exuding an air of confidence that suited him so well.

You took the jacket off the hanger and held it up. He obediently held his arms out without having to be asked. You helped him into the garment, closing it quickly, but with care.

After that he knew to sit in front of the vanity, you coming up behind him to brush his hair back. You loved getting to make his hair look all neat to then see it get progressively more messy throughout the night. As much as you loved watching Copia all dolled up, it was even better to see him let loose and have fun. It was clear as day that the stage was where he was at his most comfortable.

You looked away from his hair for just a moment, noticing how he looked at your reflection in the mirror, the slightest of smiles on his face. You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I love you too.” The words left you oh so delicately. He needed to know you weren’t just saying it to say it.

“Ti amo più di ogni altra cosa.” More than anything. It was far from his first love declaration but this one, right in all the chaos before the show, somehow felt like the most meaningful one you’d ever heard.

A frantic knock interrupted the sentiment, “You’re on in five!”

You sighed, excited to see Copia perform again but upset your time together was so rushed. You leaned down and very delicately placed a kiss on his neatly brushed back hair.

“Go get ‘em.” You winked at him through the mirror.

He got up, examined his full reflection before finally turning to face you again.

"How do I look?" He already looked confident as can be, but still he asked you that same question before every show, as if you wouldn’t always respond the exact same way.

You stepped closer, putting your hands on his chest, "Like the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

His confident look softened. He wished so badly to kiss you, but knew his paints would mess up from it and your hard work had to be admired on stage for all to see. Instead he brushed his hand over your hair.

“I will look for you in the crowd.” He promised.

You pulled back, already grabbing your bag and making your way there, “Remember, I’m on the left balcony.” You didn’t really jive well with big crowds. As much as you’d miss seeing Copia up close, you were happy you got a spot in the VIP camp. Less people, but still a good overview of the stage.

The next few minutes we’re a bit of a blur as you had to rush to make it up there on time. You only hoped Copia could take it a bit easier.

You knew he was nervous, he always was. But as soon as the white screen fell down to reveal the band the energy in the room was electric.

He had such a way about him, capturing all eyes in the room with his strong voice, silly dance moves and sometimes eyebrow raising words in between songs.

And he made sure to keep his promise, looking over in your direction multiple times. It was clear to you that he didn’t truly see you at first. But when he did, he made sure you knew. He waved his arm in a gesture towards you and you immediately understood he’d found you.

It was almost an art, making you feel like the only person in a fully packed arena. As if all those songs were especially for you even when he interacted with the crowd and wasn’t actively engaging you.

You’d probably never get the full scope of it, but when Copia was up on that stage, he was there for you. At least in spirit. He thought of you the whole time. Your unwavering faith in him calmed his nerves and the prospect of you telling him how great he did, like you always told him after performances, served as a driving force to do even better than last time.

He needed you, in that way. He wanted you. He could never imagine doing this without you.

He loved you, as wholly as you loved him.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

[ahmedmootaz]

To my fellow anon who just finished reading the same chapters I did, take my handshake in congratulations and sympathy.

To AhmedMootaz, take my tears and kudos as thanks for all the chapters and some questions in followup for the last ask on what if Ayin died .

If Ayin really DID die because of the Sweepers and they had to haul his corpse home somehow after X and Roland inevitably wope out the Sweeper nest, how would they store his corpse on the car that Roland fixes to bring it home?

Shove it in the trunk like a kidnapping?

Tie it to the back like a spare wheel?

Tie it to the front like a hunter's deer kill?

Tie it down on the roof of the car like luggage?

Strap it in using a seatbelt like a passenger?

Drag it behind them using a sled made of metal like an even more messed up Rudolta?

Drop the body in the passenger seat eother on top of someone's lap or just the seat itself?

Drop it on the floor in front of the passenger seat and below everyone's leg and behind the driver's and navigator's seat?

Something else entirely

Either way, the road trip on the way back is going to very quiet aside from maybe a bunch of crying especially from Ayin's kids and maybe Roland and X quietly talking about what they were gonna do now that Ayin was dead.

Hopefully they at least use Ayin's labcoat to cover him up in a makeshift funeral shroud. Although maybe they should just use Roland's suit jacket or X's labcoat instead if there's a large hole with bloodstains spreading out from it on Ayin's labcoat. Red really stains white. It's a good thing Ayin or his corpse at least is wearing black underneath the white coat. That hides most of the gore and blood.

But that's not the only question I have, I have more questions I'll send in the next ask since this one is already way to long.

(Ask Part 1)

Dear Anonymous,

Well, that was quick. So many people get inspired and send asks whenever I ask something that includes Ayin's death...I guess us Ayin fans are true sado-masochists, kehehe. And I will be taking those tears, thank you very much! Now I can fuel my future plans for writing! And thank you very much for the kudos as well. It makes me happy to know you enjoyed AiP.

First of all, are you feeling particularly evil today, Anon? I mean, all those violent manners of harming Ayin's lifeless body...I like it. A true Ayin fan; loving Ayin while wanting to harm him immensely, hehe. If you ask me, I'd think that Ayin's body would be treated very respectfully; he would be laid on the back seat on his back, his hands neatly tucked by his sides, while X's labcoat covers Ayin, just as Ayin had given X his own labcoat back in Chapter 8 when X had gotten drenched while bathing his girls. A poetic, painful parallel~

X would probably sit in the car's trunk while the older children sit in front of the back seat in the small space where you'd usually put your legs; I'd assume the older kids would at least fight the urge to look back at Ayin lifeless body, while the younger ones wouldn't be able to do so, which would...well, it would result in a lot more crying than needed.

I think X sitting in the trunk and letting the seat next to the driver for the kids would enhance the pain when Roland and X need to talk about what comes next; it would leave X blindsided and a little shielded from the reality that, yes, Ayin is dead, and his body is right there. There's nothing to do. Nothing that can save the one man who looked after him, and who left shoes so, so massive that almost nobody can ever hope to fill, and who left behind a grieving Distortion wrecking havoc on the City.

What a mess.

Seems like you have more pain to inflict on our Yinnie, so I'll be seeing you in the next ask! See ya'!

[peakyblinders1919]

Haddie Harrington Pt 6

|part 1| |part 2| |part 3| |part 4| part 5 |

The last thing Steve thought he’d be doing was getting advice from Dustin. It was moments like this that he remembered, he held so dear to him when he was away. That drove him back. Taking Dustin to his first school dance, giving him girl advice… King Steve never thought he’d be spending his Saturday nights that way. Now, Daddy Steve never imagined El and Will would be coloring with Haddie or Dustin and Max would be giving him advice on what to wear.

He swatted Dustin’s hand away. “Come on man, what have I said about my hair?”

He looked at his friends gaze in the reflection of the mirror, frozen for a second. “Don’t touch it?”

“Yeah, don’t touch it.”

“Jeez, I guess things haven’t changed at all.”

Steve might agree, giving his Farrah Faucet can a spray to lock his brown strands in place, but a 5’7” tall Dustin stood in front of him, something the size and weight of a brick in his pocket he called a phone, telling him to ditch the varsity jacket from high school and wear the white button up. 

“What do you think?” Steve asked after holding out his arms and approving of the reflection that looked back at him. He couldn’t believe he was so nervous, seeming to have lost all the cool, calm, and collectedness he always had. 

“You look like a din… a dad.” Dustin said once he’d read Steve’s expression suggesting he say something nice or say nothing at all. 

Though it was true, he didn’t need the constant reminder of how much had changed, the constant reminder of how much he’d missed, gazing out the window at the beat-up hand-me-down station wagon in his driveway, Sinclair’s keys next to his own in the bowl in the foyer. 

“Don’t you have like…  a paper to write or something?” Suddenly the company seemed less than helpful, eating away at the time he had to prepare for his date with you. 

Dustin mocked him and the others were shouting from downstairs that they were going to be late for the movie and really all that had changed was that they were all a little taller, a little older, maybe a little wiser. 

And you were missing.

“Hey, once this is over, assuming you don’t mess it up, Y/N will be able to hang with all of us again, right?”

“I’m not going to mess it up Henderson. I can’t.”

He wouldn’t. He knew what would be the consequence if he did; every what if he’d dreamed about, every happy ending he ever pictured, would remain a fairytale. It would all have been for nothing. Moving out of Hawkins, moving back, living.

Saying goodbye to the crew as they drove back to campus to cram at the library or otherwise do whatever it is college kids did these days, he buckled Haddie up and let the car and the road take him to you.

His gaze shifted from Haddie to you; standing at the door was summer and fall and every season, perhaps his world all squeezed into a plaid skirt and warm cardigan, radiating warmth from her smile, her greetings. 

Though you tried to ignore it, heat rose to your cheeks when after greeting the others you stood, chest to chest and nearly nose to nose with Steve.

“Good morning Mr. Harr… Steve.” Making yourself look busy tucking another stray hair behind your ear, was it obvious how nervous you were? Were you supposed to call him by his formal surname like you did with all the other students’ parents? Were you supposed to treat him like the friend you knew, the friend you hoped he still was?

“Good morning Miss Y/N,” he said, sickly sweet, a student trying to butter you up. And it might have worked, if only.

“Good morning Haddie. Nice outfit today, let me guess, you dressed yourself?”

She nodded proudly, quickly informing you though that Max and El helped with the bows in her pigtails. Your face fell, picturing what the morning must have looked like at the Harrington household, different now that you assumed you knew Steve well enough that he wasn’t living in that big box he was forced to call a house all those years ago, the kids lining up for a home-cooked breakfast rather than cold eggs from the college cafeteria, the girls helping Haddie get ready because god knows she needed someone to help style that hair of hers. Not that Steve was incompetent, in fact, the opposite, as he left little to no time to help her after his own hair was done.

“Miss Y/N, are you okay?” 

“Of course! I’m just so speechless you look so beautiful today. Why don’t you go get ready with your crayons?”

“Sorry about that-”

“It’s fine.” You lied, lips pursed and tight. She was a child, she didn’t know any better. Didn’t know that you felt left out, didn’t know that it not only bothered you but you wanted to know why.

“So.. I'll see you later tonight Miss. Y/N?”

His voice pulled you from your thoughts, helping perk you up a bit at the mention of his words and all that was insinuated underneath. It seemed everyone had grown comfortable over the weeks they’d been here; Haddie took herself inside and unpacked her backpack all alone and Steve with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, radiating pure confidence, head dipped and lips smiling as he pushed slightly into your space. Maybe it was all the hairspray going to his head (you couldn’t forget the smell of it, nor how he used it to get that piece or two to curl and fall too perfectly from its place and into his eye) or the fact that he was back playing on his home turf. Or maybe it was the fact that you had said yes to the date.

You hoped to get answers tonight rather than get led on. 

“Later tonight Steve.”

___

Normally you’d be glad to see him early, finding you lived off of you and Steve’s interactions more and more, but you’d had to call him at work, make him leave early and drive across town, and meet with you now. 

“Is everything alright?” Where to start. You didn’t know where to start. Not once had you been brought to silence in front of parents, but Steve wasn’t just a parent, he was so much more. Maybe it was the chewing on your bottom lip- your tell- that gave it away. Reaching across the kidney table, he took your hand in his, rubbed his thumb soothingly across the soft back of your hand. It instantly made you meet his eyes, your whole life flashing in the serene calm of the dark abyss. All the touches, all the secrets, all the shared experiences and memories, some crammed in a box in your closet, polaroids and other knick-knacks like his RayBans he left at your house once (you were convinced it was purposeful on his part, and he never asked for them back, just bought a new pair) and times he had comforted you and you him, and times you had nearly called him home, and all the times you claimed you were just friends and all the what ifs and all the why nots.

There was no easy way to tell him it, so suddenly, comfortably, you just let it out.

“There was an incident at recess today. Haddie was drawing with chalk-” the fact that the red, gold, and purple squiggles slightly resembled a decapitated dragon something you were sure to bring up later, “and some older boys starting making fun of her and… well… she hit them with a bat.”

“She what?”

“She hit them with a wiffle ball bat Steve.” Suddenly, for the first time in a long time, you saw him sweat, saw the tension building, felt the tension building when you reached across the table to offer him some calm and figured out the best way to approach this was the same way a younger you and Steve approached everything when it came to your past, the Upside down. Humor. “Wonder where she learned that from?”

He confirmed your suspicions with a nod of his hair, not a single hair out of place until he raked his hands through it, still a bit shocked as to the nature of this meeting. 

Tilting your head, you remained silent to let him process it all, and still neither of you pulled back, hands still clasped across the paint smeared table. 

“I thought your monster fighting days were over Steve,” you said it so genuinely, so soft and so raw it pulled him from his thoughts to look at you. His lips nearly twitched into a smile before he finally pulled free, what started as to comfort you turning to comfort him until he found it easier to mess up those curls again, anxiously pushing at the long locks. 

“I’ll always be fighting monsters,” he chuckled though nothing was funny, “Her monsters. The ones uder the bed, bullies-” he sighed. You couldn’t possibly understand, could you? Maybe that was a naive thought on his end, where he had one daughter to love and take care of for the rest of her days, you had 25.

“Seems like she knows how to fight them herself. Whether she learned those bat-weilding skills from you directly or not, maybe I’d rather not know. But look, I can’t let her do that here, you understand. And the boys’ parents, I don’t think they’re going to be as understanding.”

“Are you saying she’s getting kicked out? I… I.. don’t have any other childcare, unless you count that twerp Dustin as a reliable babysitter now,” he chuckled again, though this time it sounded anxious and perhaps there was some humor hidden behind it, humor at the crumbling situation he found himself in the middle of.

“No, Steve, she’s not getting kicked out. I would never do that to you.” The words left a stinging feeling in your chest, licking your lips in order to continue. “I would never do that to her. She loves it here, she’s very bright. I think you should take her home for the day, talk to her, maybe keep her home tomorrow, I’ll talk to the boys’ parents, and I’ll make sure to hide the bats here if you do.” 

He nodded, watching the tense roll off his shoulders, until he looked back at you stricken with panic.

“But what about our parent-teacher conference and-”

“I think this is a conference enough.” 

“Our date.” Once hopeful eyes turned stormy, misty at the suggestion it wasn’t going to happen. 

He wanted it as much as you did, confirmed by his eyes, his voice, his touch.

“Meet me at the coffee shop at 7.”

I don't know if anyone's still interested in this but here ya go! I'm going to make it my goal to finish this series once and for all