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gunnrblze · 11 days

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pls yandere keegan hcs....🙏🙏

Sorry this took so long my dear! I’ve not written yandere shit in a millennia, so if it’s corny I apologize💀 also this turned into a little drabble rather than hc’s. MDNI, 18+, dark fic

big TW below the cut: obsessed,possessive Keegan, reference to violence/murder, stalking, manipulation, reference to sexual activity (no actual sex/assault), home invasion, kidnapping, drugging, mentions of being tied up/caged. it’s dark & fucked up, that’s the warning, please heed it don’t come for me

He sees you one day, his heart melting and his cock throbbing in his jeans. You’re so pretty, so precious, and he feels something light him up from the inside out. He wanted to have you. All to himself. He figured you probably didn’t even know how lost you were, not until he stepped into the picture. He was retired from the forces now, he’d been looking for a new project anyways. This would be your rebirth, that’s the way he saw it at least when he decided to follow you home that day.

Scoping out what he’d be working with, your home, how many entrances and exits there are. The neighbors, if you have any roommates/family, pets, alarm systems, etc. To his sheer pleasure, you lived totally alone. He’d change that soon. Don’t worry, honey.

You had a couple ring cameras set up, child’s play, nothing he couldn’t get past. Not that he really cared, of course. He’d have you any way he could get. He’d just hate to have to involve anyone else with his affairs, lest he need to find a more permanent solution. Cop killer isn’t a good look, but if they sniffed around, they’d get what they’d get, he figured.

Taking you would be easy, that wasn’t a problem. He was a silent, experienced man, you hadn’t even noticed how he’d been following you home for the past week anyways. How he’d sit in his truck across the street and watch your figure move around from behind those curtains that were way too sheer. Hell, if he wasn’t planning to rehome you, he’d have to get you new ones. People could see you like that, sweetheart. People that don’t deserve you. Ones that you don’t belong to.

It didn’t matter, really, when exactly he took you, you’d be living a new life with him anyways. He’d already set up such a nice, cozy little spot for you in his basement. He’d snuck in one day while you were at work, he had to know more about you of course. And he knows your favorite color now, so all the blankets and pillows he bought just for you will suit those tastes. He knows your favorite snacks and drinks, he’ll want you to be comfortable of course, especially when you resist at first.

He made sure to memorize all your products, too. So when he helps you wash your hair, you’ll be using the right shampoo. And when he lets you bathe, you can have your favorite scent of body wash. He loves the way you smell anyhow, that scent was wafting off you when he accidentally bumped into you at the grocery store a few days ago.

All the things you enjoyed, he made sure to make a mental note of them. Music, clothes, books, games, any and everything that you filled your space with. He couldn’t believe how lovely you were. Such a beautiful soul, no? You’d be the best addition to the new home and land he’d purchased after retiring, the acres and acres of property, free of any imposing neighbors.

He’d left your home in the exact condition it was in before he broke in, of course. He’d disabled your cameras through your WiFi router, not the best home surveillance, he reckoned, but he had something much more up to the task on his property. Thank god for military training, no? You didn’t even seem to be too concerned when he watched you come home that evening and check them out yourself. Going back and forth between the app on your phone and the camera near your front door in an attempt to figure out why the connection had cut out for a couple hours.

It almost killed him to watch you get so frustrated before finally giving up, going back inside to simply fix your WiFi. He wished he could tell you that sooner rather than later, you wouldn’t have a problem in the world. He’d take them all from you, give you any and everything you need.

He was expecting a fighter, of course. From what he learned, you had an attitude, didn’t take much shit. That asshole in the mall parking lot got an earful when he almost rear ended your car last week, fucker tried to blame it on you. Thankfully he didn’t, but Keegan took care of it anyway after you left.

Had you noticed the missing man on the news was that same guy? Did you realize what he’d done for you? Nobody would ever get to speak to you like that again, sweetheart. Not when he’s around to take care of you.

He packed extra rope in his truck just for you, just in case you were a smarter cookie than you looked. You can never be too careful, always underestimate your enemy, some of the lessons he’d learned during his career seemed to apply here too. Not that you were an enemy, god no, but you’d certainly consider him one for a while. He was just thinking logically, of course.

Thankfully you still had that spare key in the planter next to your front door from when he’d checked for one the first time he went to your house. He thought it was cute, really. How you figured putting it somewhere else, rather than under the mat, was safer.

He wasn’t stupid enough to take you during the day, but he could’ve. He just figured the darkness would hide his figure more easily. It was almost pathetic, how he walked right into your house without making a sound. He knew you were in bed already, part of your night routine. He felt a little bad for turning the WiFi off again when you were in the middle of your show, but it lured you out of your bedroom, thankfully.

Although it was for the best, he understood that you were scared when he silently cupped a hand over your mouth and locked an arm around your waist from behind. So he made sure to replace his hand with the rag very quickly before you fainted in his arms.

It took him a bit longer to get you into his truck than he’d initially planned. Finally getting his hands on you, laying your limp body down on the living room floor to brush the tears off your cheeks, he almost couldn’t stand it. The sight of his sweetheart, finally in his arms, looking too peaceful for words. He wasn’t one to get distracted, certainly not during a time like this either, but he didn’t account for the time it’d take him to get himself under control.

He had to excuse himself to your bedroom for a moment to jerk his rigid dick off into a pair of your dirty panties. He’d hate to drive with a hard on of course, especially when you’d be waking up around the time he arrived home. He didn’t want to be distracted while he brought you inside, considering you’d no doubt be more combative.

And it’s a good thing he knew how to think ahead, because your wrists were already raw against the rope as he dragged you through his front door. He hated to see you cry, hated the way the gag was soaked with your tears and saliva, but he tried telling you it was okay. You didn’t listen of course, flailing like a fish in his arms as he walked down the basement steps. But he’d wait. He’d wait until the day you thank him, until the day you reciprocate his love.

Until then, you can stay shackled to the wall. Please, just don’t make him put you in the cage again. Really, there’s no need to bite, sweetheart.

#call of duty ghosts #call of duty ghosts fic #keegan russ #keegan russ cod #keegan russ call of duty #keegan p russ #call of duty ghosts keegan #call of duty keegan #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ x you #cod ghosts #call of duty #dark fic #gunnrblze rambles #gunnrblze writes

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rosewaterandivy · 6 months

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Everyone But You - a Life as We Know It au

Ch. 2 - I've Got That Lefty Curse

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Summary: hey, you know what a funeral is decidedly not for? gettin' your dick wet. | OR eddie munson's no good, very bad lay. Pairing: e.m. x f!oc w.c.: 4.9K warnings: NSFW / MDNI, immersive second person narration w/ a name and background but no physical description mentioned, grief, character death, funeral, jason carver mention, badly repressed emotions, poor emotional regulation skills, bathroom antics inspired by the moves of Paris Geller and that one scene from Catch & Release tagging: @powderblueblood for coming up with Eddie's nickname for the rover 😘

The garage door trundles open as Eddie twirls the keys in a flourish. You squint behind your sunglasses, bringing your phone closer to avoid the sun’s glare as you triple-check the directions to CPS.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.” Eddie grouses as the car comes into view. It’s big, some kind of SUV, a Range Rover apparently, if his grumbling is to go by, one that is impeccably clean.

“What’s the problem?” You walk toward the car as it chirps to unlock, “Keys,” You point to his outstretched hand, “Driver,” You point to him and finally gesture to the car, “Vehicle.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Right, sure. Lemme drive this car that’s worth more than my life, that’ll go real swell!” He choruses in false cheer before his face falls, “Yeah, no. Think fast,” He lobs the keys toward you which you step to avoid, and the pair of you watch as they rattle to the floor.

“Well shit, Sherlock, y’know you’re supposed to catch things as they’re thrown at you.”

You roll your lips between your teeth and raise a brow, “I don’t drive.”

“Riiiight,” Eddie says, scooping down to collect the keys. “Of course you don’t, your majesty. Wouldn’t want to sully ourselves with something so pedestrian.” He yanks the driver’s side door open and hauls himself inside.

Settled in the passenger seat, you buckle your seatbelt and pair your phone to the bluetooth in the car. Eddie adjusts the seat and mirror before deciding on a Sirius station for the fifteen minute journey to downtown.

“For the record,” He says, pulling out onto the residential street, “I have a driver’s license, not a boating one. This thing is a goddamn behemoth.”

The car lurches forward as he navigates toward the stop sign at the end of the block, the seatbelt seizes against your chest, jerking you backward into the seat.

“Munson, sort your shit out! There’s going to be an actual baby whose well-being we’re responsible for in here, you know.”

He kisses his teeth and huffs in exasperation, “Sorryyy, I can’t figure out the damn clutch on the S.S. Fuck The Planet, princess. Jesus H. Christ.”

You make a mental note to have the insurance policy switched over and update the title on the cars as well. Swiping over to the notes app, you tap out a reminder and add a trip to the grocery store for good measure. The list is titled: HOW TO SURVIVE IN HAWKINS and has such gems as: whole foods - where?, research moving co.’s NYC, check out brownstone, contact attorney & set up will, utilities & electric??, and baby books!!!

While you prepped for the impending arrival of Zoë and a prolonged stay in the Midwest, Eddie prattled through the house like Jacob Marley’s ghost shuffling from one vacant room to the next. He’d sent something off to his agent and editor via email about pushing the deadline back for his current novel, and had thrown his duffle in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs, the one furthest from Chrissy and Jason’s room, naturally.

You’d settled in a room close to the nursery and across the way from Eddie. The guest bath was conveniently at the end of the hall just before the staircase. Neither of you bothered unpacking after Max left, just threw your bags upstairs and scrambled to the garage to pick up Zoë as soon as possible.

The ride smooths out, eventually, Eddie seeming to get a hang of the clutch or whatever it was, and soon enough you’re being escorted back to the caseworker’s office at CPS.

She instructs you to sign the form with your intention of temporary custody just until the court can set a date with the judge to award full custody. Until that time, a caseworker would be checking up on Zoë and your care of her, the findings of which would be presented to the judge at a later date.

“And if you’ll sign here as well, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie scribbles off his disaster of a signature just as Zoe is brought in.

“Oh,” You sigh, relieved as you rise from the chair. “There she is.” You adjust the strap of your tote on your shoulder and leave the room, gently taking her from a woman with a nod of thanks. Keeping your voice soft and low, you greet Zoë. “Hi, sweetheart. Hi sweet girl!”

It’s rare that Eddie ever hears you like this, voice pitched just so as not to hint at any sadness you may be grappling with currently. And Zoë, she looks so pink and cute— footsie pajamas decorated in little hearts.

“Oh, honey. It’s so good to see you.” You brush back her downy blonde hair just as she begins to fuss, blue eyes falling to Eddie, who is rendered speechless in the office. He sniffs to clear any welling tears and quietly thanks the caseworker before joining you in the waiting room.

“I know, I know,” You soothe, rocking her back and forth, watching as Eddie steps beside you.

Zoë continues her soft cries, not nearing meltdown territory yet, but rather expressing her confusion or discomfort. Eddie’s hand cards through her wisps of blonde hair as you turn and say, “Hey, look. Hey, look – it’s Uncle Eddie!” Which seems to placate her somewhat, as chubby arm reaches toward him.

Lifting her from your hip, you continue to narrate: “Wanna go see him? Good, he’s right here.” And place her squarely against his chest, his hands coming to grip her sides as she tucks herself against him, little fingers gripping the worn fabric of his shirt.

You watch as he holds his goddaughter, her soft cries falling away to nothing as she nuzzles into his neck. “Okay,” You breathe, “We should really get her home.”

The car seat, however, proves difficult. Eddie has grimaced and groused his way through various belt to lock combinations, determining all of them to be useless.

“Who designed this thing, a fuckin’ Space X engineer?”

Leaning against the car with Zoë, you decide fifteen minutes is more than enough time for Eddie to dick around with the car seat. “Shove over Elon, this is getting ridiculous.”

Seamlessly, you set Zoë in the car seat and buckle her in. “See?” You ask, a taunting lilt to your voice, “Was that so difficult?”

“Well, that’s because I eliminated all other possibilities, so obviously you—”

“Shut it, Munson. And drive.”

You’re nearly back to Loch Nora when a cop lights up behind the rover. “Really, today? C’mon man!” Eddie pulls off to the side of the road, going for his wallet before stopping short. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit? What do you mean oh shit?!” You whisper frantically, “This isn’t really on ‘oh shit’ type of moment, if you hadn’t noticed!”

“God, would you shut up for, like, two seconds so I can think?!”

“Please, let’s not pretend you think.”

An intentional elbow jabs into his ribs with enough force for him to hiss. He’s about to snarl something not fit for tiny ears back at you when two raps on the window shocks you both into silence.

Eddie reluctantly rolls down the window with a pained smile.

“Morning officer, what seems to be the problem?”

There’s a pause before a bellowing laugh. “Munson!? Well, of all the gin joints in all the world—”

Eddie’s face flushes pink, “Uh, right. Hi there, Hop.” He clears his throat, “How are… things.”

“Bout to ask you the same thing, kid.” He pockets his aviator glasses and leans against the door, propping one arm to rest on the roof. “D’you know you rolled through that light down on Main before turning onto Pinebow?”

“Uh, no. Sorry, must’ve been distracted.”

“I’ll say,” The officer peers into the car, gaze falling on you. “Morning ma’am. Mind getting me the registration from the glove box?”

“I, uh,” You supply, uselessly. Eddie leans over to do it himself before you can ask what a registration would even look like. Your eyes dart back to Zoë still sleeping soundly.

“I need to level with you Hop,” Eddie says, handing the paper over to him. “This is not my car, this is not my beautiful wife, and my license is expired.”

“It is!?” You ask, furious. How could he be so irresponsible? There is a child riding in the backseat! Before you can rip him a new asshole, the officer chuckles.

“Can’t say I’m surprised Ed. Shame about the wife bit though.” He reads the registration and passes it back to Eddie. “But considering the circumstances … I’ll let this one slide.”

“The circumstances?” You prompt, wondering how the hell a traffic cop would know about Chrissy and Jason’s accident.

“My condolences,” He says with a frown and furrowed brow, as if the very idea of their absence unsettles him. “It’s a small town, I’m sure everyone’ll know by day’s end.”

Hop puts his glasses back on and steps back from the vehicle. He nods to you with a small smile, before his eyes narrow on Eddie. “You need to get this taken care of, Munson.” Slapping the roof of the car, he turns on his heel and walks back to the cruiser, “See you Friday!”

Eddie waves him off and pulls back onto the road. Offering positively zero explanations as to why this man you’d never met before today would be showing up to the house later this week.

“Munson, why does that cop think he's coming by the house later?”

“Hmm, oh, Hop? He’s not just a cop, he’s the Sheriff.”

As if that made it any better.

“Do I want to know why you’re friendly with the boys in blue, er, khaki? Thought you were the commander and chief of ACAB.”

“That,” He says, punching the button to open the garage as the house comes back into view, “Is a story for another time. But for now, just chalk it up to the fact that Hawkins is a verrrry small town, princess.”

By Friday, your bags still remain unpacked by the door to the guest room. It would be so easy to call a car, book a flight and just leave, like it had never happened in the first place.

You’re pretty sure that’s what Munson is expecting you to do. He doesn’t trust you, nor you him. How can you? It’s not like you were ever friends. And it’s not like you’ve seen him in that way since—

A soft knock from the door has you turning to find him holding Zoë in the crook of his arm. She’s smiling and sleepy, fresh from her bath. One that had left you positively drenched, prompting a hasty retreat to find a change of clothes.

“They’re, uh, driving up now.” Eddie mumbles, and though he hasn’t said it, hasn’t complained one bit, you can see how exhausted he is. Essentially dead on your feet from your first night with Zoë.

She’d cried and wailed all night, or so it felt, and you were sure you’d wake up to a noise complaint or violation of the HOA’s quiet hours or some such shit. Eddie had volunteered to stay with her that night, elected to sleep on the couch in the nursery because he’s “slept on worse.”

He’s said it as if he didn’t already have dark circles under his eyes, as if they hadn’t been awake for over 24 hours, and you want to refute it, to say you can keep the baby monitor on you instead, but the look in Eddie’s eyes tells you this isn’t just about staying the night with Zoë.

It’s that he wants to make sure Chrissy’s daughter is safe, to protect her daughter in the way he wasn’t able to protect his best friend last night.

“Could you just sleep in—” You tilt your head toward Chrissy and Jason’s room, it’s closer to the nursery anyway. But you don’t get to finish your thought before he’s swept in to the room and settled Zoë in her crib for the night. The conversation effectively over.

“Right,” You say, peeling off the door frame to leave, “Forget I asked.”

But that was last night, and you’d be remiss to say that you’d made it much longer on your own. The room was far too quiet, the sheets too stiff, and you couldn’t find your sound machine to save your life.

It’s two o’clock when you stumble into the nursery, nearly tripping over Eddie’s prone leg because he’s too tall for the small couch, but he doesn’t wake. You make yourself comfortable on the plush white rug, the one Chrissy had sworn felt like a cloud and rest your head on the pillow you’d snuck in from the guest room.

Maybe it’s the white noise machine looped to Zoë’s crib, or maybe it’s the proximity of being close to her that brings a sense of calm that’s enough to lull you into sleep. And maybe, it’s the soft snores and snuffles that fall from the tangle of limbs precariously close to slipping off of the couch.

Regardless, you and Eddie had somewhat survived your first day as guardians. Had struggled through feedings and diaper changes, nap time, and seemingly endless loads of laundry. You’d read Chrissy’s parenting books and ordered more to be delivered tomorrow. Eddie had returned victorious from a Target run and you’d each set about slapping sticky notes and scribbling furiously on a huge tear away calendar— you’d even assigned colors: you were purple, Eddie was neon green, Zoë was pink, naturally.

Max, Eddie’s friend and the estate attorney, had apparently rallied the troops for a family dinner for that evening. You and Eddie were to do nothing, under strict instructions from someone named Nancy to relax and focus on Zoë. You could hear the front door opening as people made their way inside for dinner.

Gently, Eddie passes Zoë off to you and helps you wrap the sling around your torso. After watching several tutorials on YouTube, you felt confident that everyone would feel more comfortable this way. Plus, your arms were killing you— who knew carrying a baby around could be so tiring?

Once downstairs, introductions are made. Eddie names off everyone in attendance as they stare at you like a new exhibit at the MoMa, or maybe the zoo is more accurate. Immediately, you can see that you don’t belong. Everyone is dressed down casually in jeans and t-shirts, their shoes kicked off by the door.

Whereas you, on the other hand, announce your presence with the click-clack of your heels on the floorboards. Swan into rooms with impeccable posture and sport dresses never more than a season old, unless they’re archival vintage, of course. A bold lip and manicured nails, not a hair out of place.

To the assembled people of Hawkins, you sure cut the figure of a Stepford wife.

“Hi,” A voice pipes up from the man to your right, “I’m Ste—”

A metallic clang sounds out, muffling whatever he had to say. Quickly followed by an exasperated, “Oh, goddamit!”

You smile at him, “The pleasure is all mine. Dean, you said it was?”

“I, uh,” He stammers out, unable to land his gaze anywhere on your person.

“Right,” You say primly, hearing more cursing from the kitchen, “If you’ll excuse me.”

And, of course, the source of the cacophony is none other than Munson himself. He’s got the hood fan going on the stovetop, and there’s smoke pluming from the oven. Company has been here all of ten minutes and he’s already going to burn the house down.

You grab the sheet pan he’s using to dissipate the smoke from the alarms on the ceiling and narrowly avoid smacking him upside the head.

“I never took you for an arsonist, but hey, there’s a first time for everything.”

He coughs into his shoulder, his hand waving through the air uselessly. But before you can tell him to shove over and let you handle things, people stream into the kitchen. Eddie is shuffled from the stove by a kind woman named Joyce, only to be pulled away by an older man, his uncle Wayne, while Hopper takes over in the kitchen.

Windows are opened by Max and Lucas, allowing the smoke to dissipate. And eventually, Joyce offers to take Zoë and put her to bed after her dinner of mashed peas and carrots. Begrudgingly you let her, dropping a kiss to her downy blonde curls before she’s whisked away.

Dinner is nice as is the company, even if conversation is a bit stilted and awkward given the circumstances. You don’t say much and no one expects you to, but every so often Wayne will catch you gaze and offer a small smile. It’s easy to appreciate his silence, to see it as a comfort because god knows his nephew is normally anything but.

You’re on your second glass of wine for the evening, listening to Robin as she details the various hijinks of what she refers to as the Scoops Troop. But she keeps mentioning someone named Steve and you have half a mind to ask her who that could possibly be. Dean, for all his lack of being mentioned in these stories, laughs along good-naturedly.

It’s when you yawn for the second time in five minutes, that Eddie suggests: “Hey, you should go up and get some sleep.”

You scowl, confused and pleasantly buzzed but stand up all the same. “Fine, but no promises, Munson.”

It had been decided that you’d give the eulogy for the service today. Eddie sits with Zoë in his lap – she's dozing off and you’re thankful – and when Eddie stares up at you, you can feel your heart in your throat. Initially, it seemed that Eddie would deliver the eulogy, this was, after all, his hometown and this church was full of people he’d known most of his life.

But when he’d come to you two nights ago after Zoë had finally fallen asleep, shaking like a leaf with crescent hollows beneath his eyes that the moon would envy, and he’d said in a voice so broken and empty: “I just can’t do it. Please don’t make me.”

And so you didn’t.

Halfway through, while the crowd is chuckling sadly, politely, at your anecdotes about Chrissy and Jason. Things are going well until Zoë begins to hiccup and throws a tantrum. Ellie, Chrissy’s mom, scoops her up into her arms easily and carries her out of the church. Over her shoulder, Zoë’s arms stretch out toward the front of the church, her face crumpled as she cries for her mommy and daddy.

Me too baby girl, me too.

You force yourself to look back at Eddie, and his eyes meet yours. It's a moment of understanding that goes straight to your gut and steals the breath from your lungs; Chrissy wasn’t ever coming back.

The wake is held at the house, a tasteful catered affair courtesy of Jason’s parents. Everyone thought it best for Zoë to be in a familiar setting to try and stick to her routine. People mill about downstairs stopping every so often to shake your hand and offer their condolences, thoughts and prayers, or claim that their hearts are with you during this difficult time.

It’s all you can do not to scream as you hold Zoë like a life raft. So, instead of snapping something at someone’s handsy uncle who has had you cornered for the last five minutes or so, you talk to Chrissy in your head.

What were you thinking Chris? This wasn’t the plan at all, in fact, you’ve jumped the gun by about sixty-odd years y’know. If you care to recall, we said we’d outlive our husbands and buy a place on the Cape. Descend into spinsterhood in style, and then haunt the shit out of that property, as is our right.

Ellie checks in on you with a soft touch to the arm, ushering pervy uncle toward the hors d’oeuvres. Small miracles. You can feel the tears gathering on your lashes, and you know that your tolerance for these platitudes is quickly dwindling. You haven’t seen Eddie since he fed and changed Zoë an hour or so ago.

He’s been distant since that night, the one where you’d refused him and drawn your line in the sand.

Catching sight of Robin, you tell her that Zoë is going for her nap and she promises to make your excuses. She latches on to that guy she seems permanently attached to, (Dean, you wanna say?) and they begin to spread the word in an attempt to clear everyone out.

You take the stairs slowly, not wanting to shift the dozing girl in your arms too much, as you step onto the second floor landing. Turning into the nursery, you set her down on the changing table and rid her of her funeral dress.

No little girl should ever have one, much less be given the opportunity to wear it.

Back in her comfy pjs, you sit on the rocking chair and kick off your heels. Zoë nuzzles against your neck as you hum softly. Sooner than you’d anticipated, the rhythmic rocking to and fro has eased her into sleep. Rising as gently as you’re able, you lay her down in the crib, turn on her sound machine, and step out of the room with baby monitor in hand.

Downstairs, you can hear rumblings of conversation overridden by a male voice: “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Chuckling, you duck into the guest bathroom before any of the hangers on can spot you as they take their leave. Back hitting the door, you allow yourself a moment or two to breathe. Surrounded by people all day on what has arguably been the worst day of your life to date. Smoothing down the skirt of your dress, you pull the shower curtain aside and step into the basin of the bathtub. Once settled, you draw the curtain closed again and let your head rest against the tile wall.

“Why did you leave me alone like this, Chrissy?” You say, voice ricocheting off the bathroom tiles. “You know I can’t handle anything without you.”

Not two minutes later, and someone comes barreling in. Huh, guess you never did lock that door.

Before you can alert them of your presence, a high-pitched giggle sounds out followed by the scuffling of feet. The door is shut, and the lock is thrown as the giggle turns into a high, breathy gasp. They sound closer now, if the wet sounds of tongues battling for dominance is anything to go by.

Rearing back, you sink into the corner of the tub and will it all to go away. The noxious, ringing laughter continues unabated only punctuated by the sounds of a belt buckle clinking against the sink, a zipper being pulled down.

If you were so inclined (which you are decidedly not), you could simply turn your head to the left and feast your eyes on the shadow sexual escapades of one—

“Oh, Eddie.”

For fuck’s sake! As if this day could get any worse.

But, oh wait, it does.

“Sock it to me!”

Biting the heel of your hand to quell the rising laughter, your eyes blow wide at her litany of ‘sock it to me’s’ – it’s as if that’s the only thing her poorly wired brain will allow her to say mid-coitus. Eddie’s laughter, understandable given the circumstances, devolves into an attempt to shush his conquest from what has got to be the most unimaginative dirty talk you’ve had the misfortune to be privy to.

When she finally reaches her peak (“Yeah! That’s so good!”), you’ve already mentally catalogued the ways in which you could have a) killed yourself in the interim, b) killed Eddie, and c) killed this poor woman, in all likelihood saving her from a life of mediocre sex at funerals.

“Thanks.”

Well, at least she’s polite.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

Eddie sounds embarrassed, voice tight and you can imagine he’s doing that thing where he drums his fingers against his thigh, impatiently waiting for this all to be over. His lips are probably tucked between his teeth while she washes her hands, eyes anywhere but on her.

There’s the sound of the door being unlocked and the throw away line of “Call me,” and with that, she’s gone.

The sink runs again, Eddie muttering to himself under his breath, and for the briefest of seconds when you dramatically pull the shower curtain open, you could’ve sworn you saw something akin to regret (or was it disgust?) as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Fuck!”

He jumps back, startled at your Houdini-esque appearance. All too calmly, you step out from the bathtub, gaze fixed on him all the while. You pluck the joint from his fingers and stow it in your pocket.

And you haven’t launched into him yet, so maybe this isn’t the verbal crucifixion that Eddie thinks it’ll be. There’s a curl to his lips that says he’s going to be a problem, that he’s going to make a joke out of this, as if he hadn’t buried his best friend earlier today and then gone and screwed a cater waiter in the bathroom of her house during the wake.

“Well, well, well, if it isn't my Lady Disdain,” He drawls, arms loosely crossed against his chest, “Are you yet living?”

It is only in deference to Zoë that you don’t go scorched earth on his ass right then and there. There’s a soft squawk from your other pocket where the baby monitor is as she likely rolls over in her sleep.

“I am only going to say this once, Munson, so you better get it through that abomination you call a skull.”

Briefly, someone attempts to enter the bathroom, the door nudging open only to be forcefully shut as you, in an impressive feat of balance, slam one Manolo Blahnik clad heel against the door and shove it closed.

“Occupied!”

You wait a beat or two, leg slotted against the door to be sure that whomever was on the opposite side did not attempt further entry.

If only your yoga instructor could see you now.

Releasing your hold on the door, you flip the lock and take measured steps back to Eddie who is now crowded back against the pedestal sink.

“Did ya have some fun? Get you rocks off? Add another notch to the bedpost?” You seethe, and he knows better than to interrupt when you’re like this. “What a fitting way to send off Chrissy, huh? By defiling her home because you lack something called self-restraint.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“What, is that not accurate Munson? Because from where I was sitting, it sounded like you couldn’t wait bust your nut into the next woman who batted her lashes at you, who maybe, juuuust maybe,” You take one step closer, a mere breath away from him. “Suffers from an undiagnosed brain injury and lowers herself to slum it with the likes of you.”

“Tell me how you really feel, sweetheart,” He sneers, “All those years of therapy seem to be doin’ wonders for your self-esteem. Because you’re too high and mighty to count yourself one of the crowd, right?”

“You have no right—”

“I have no right? Are you kidding me? I'm not the one who shuts down at the first opportunity, who would rather run away than stay here and deal with this!"

"It's not like I’ve left! I'm here, aren't I?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?" He demands. "We are not just playing house here! And you can’t pretend that we’re not partners in this. If you’re so scared, why didn't you say anything?”

You storm toward the door, unlocking it as you turn the knob to leave. To get away from him and his pitying looks, his judgment.

"Because I don't need you!"

Eddie’s hand covers yours, “Maybe I need you!" He snaps, almost shouting. "Maybe I need you to work with me instead of against me. Maybe I need you to stop doubting yourself, because there's already so much to worry about and I can't help worrying about you. Maybe I need you to stop being so damn independent and self-absorbed. Maybe I need you to realize that you're not the only person here who lost a best friend."

The heartbreak on his face is so painfully clear that you can feel it in your chest; you can't believe you didn't noticed it before.

The door creaks open.

"Hey, are you guys – oh, sorry."

You turn from Eddie to see Robin on the stairs, hesitating. You clear your throat and blink away any tears, as you step through the door. "Can I help you?"

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not interrupting," You say, turning toward her and smoothing down your dress.

"Okaaaay." She looks doubtful. "Everyone’s cleared out, leftovers are in the fridge. I checked on Zo and she’s still zonked out."

You nod, “Thanks, for everything.”

“Happy to help.”

You wait until her footsteps fade away, and the front door shuts. Gritting your teeth, you watch as Eddie steps away from you and avoids making eye contact, your jaw clenched tightly enough to hurt.

There's something empty and aching at the base of your throat, and no matter how much you swallow, it won't go away.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fafic #eddie munson x oc #stranger things fanfic #modern!eddie #fic: eby

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yxstxrdrxxm · 7 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: Perfection lies on the eye of the beholder. Or, in this case, in the hands of an alchemist who dabbled in sculpting.

TW/s: yandere behavior, Albedo is a bit of an impulsive bastard, abstract in writing, nsfw tws includes usage of drugs, odd materials, dollification, toxic relationship. Please dni if you are uncomfortable.

NOTE FROM HR: Happy Valentine’s Day! If you asked Albedo, he had nothing to gain to be able to celebrate an occasion such as this, but it seems you guys have been together for months. I wonder what he has in store to celebrate this day with you, hm?

Albedo is what many would say is never considered to celebrate Valentine’s Day. If you ever told him what that occasion is like, he would simply tell you the meaning and not what he truly thought about it. After all, that is normal for many to expect, right?

Well, that is what the old him would’ve thought, but he had a lover now. One that understood him, and the person that seemed to look at him like he was someone to be cared for.

To be fair, he and Kendall are what people would say that are polar opposites. He was stoic and hard to approach, but to the likes of Kendall, he simply showed sides of him that he wanted her to see past.

Why? It was simply because the two shared the same ideas and bonded well. Thus, for the alchemist, he thought it simply made sense to do that.

One of those was when they picked up a book that he had seen and he told Kendall if she was aware. Although she wasn’t, the time they spent together deciphering and discussing the contents of the book when they read it together was nice. He had never been interested in reading anything but scholar-approved journals, so picking up something light with her had been an interesting perspective.

There was one thing that he remembered so clearly—in the passage of the book, ‘Challenger Deep’, he remembered asking her how she felt with the narrative being shifted so often. He recalled how many were speaking of how difficult it was to follow them, like they couldn’t figure out what was happening.

Her words caught him by surprise, though.

“It’s not that bad when you think about it. After all, the story is focused on the boy, so if they can’t follow what’s going on, that’s their problem.”

It was then that he realized just how different they were. And Gods, he was absolutely not letting this opportunity go.

So, he began to speak to Kendall more. He began to look into what she thought of certain topics, books, and even past those with art forms as well. But in the midst of it, he found himself feeling more and more attached to her.

It was a strange conundrum. He didn’t understand the feeling at all. It felt… Foreign.

He didn’t like that.

What was stranger yet was that he saw her profile in the MixMatch app. He had been on it for months since he needed more funds for his projects, and it was the easiest way for him as he had been scouted by the bigwigs of Celestia Inc, so to see her in there and the profile she has set up was a curious coincidence.

Now, any sane person would’ve simply ignored her profile and scroll past to the next one, but Albedo is no foolish man. Nay, he wanted to see just how far he can go when he managed to match with Kendall and see how deeper their relationship could become.

With one swipe, they were both matched up by the app. Just like how history led them to be tied together since day one.

After that time, the memories became a tad bit fuzzy for Albedo to remember. It had gone through so many changes: from the time they were finally together, then the small celebrations they hosted, and even their first kiss. It was almost sweet with how Albedo tried to be accommodating and loving to Kendall, but there were times that it was difficult.

Love is difficult for him. But he has his ways to show that to you.

Such a shame that one of them led you to the situation he’s facing right in front of him.

Standing in front of the somewhat finished sculpture he made, he found himself… Strangely at ease. His expression remained unchanged, though, but the sight of it made him internally smile. It was something that he himself can live on proudly.

In a weird way, it made him feel a bit human. It was perfect for him.

Granted, the materials he made was not something he can get right away. It had to be curated, picked by hand, and he needed to make sure it fit his vision. One slight and it would’ve been thrown away, discarded like a child’s toy when they’ve grown old to even touch it anymore.

He was a picky man. He wanted what’s best for him and his lover, and he had dedicated himself for far too long to be able to back down now.

Raising a hand, he gently swiped it across the cheek of his muse, his eyes softening. The feeling of smoothness meeting his bare fingers sent tingles in his spine, tracing it ever so closer to their eyes and lips, and even drifting to their neck. There were a few blemishes, sure, but it was fine—it looked close enough that he was able to modify it to make it look authentic from the naked eye.

He spent 6 months working on the statue before him. His life’s work, he coined as such. He had always wanted to express his feelings to his lover if they’ve stayed for this long, and even then, he wanted to give it to her as his memento for the occasion.

Looking down, he hummed in satisfaction at the placement of the props he curated. He made sure that the statue had the finest of jewelry hung on their body, its hair and clothing pristine as he first found it, and he gave extra care to spots he saw that weren't perfect.

The dust that was left from his smashed previous attempts and frustrations are all but swept away, hidden from anyone that dares to enter his workshop.

Grabbing the cloth next to him, he lifted it up and tossed it on top of the statue’s head, gently letting it flutter down to the ground. He didn’t want anyone to see it, and he made sure that every spot of that statue he made was covered to a T.

“... It’s perfect,” he whispered, looking down at the time and the pendant. “Now, I need to give this to her tomorrow morning. I must get some rest.”

He has a busy day tomorrow, after all.

Heading up to Kendall’s apartment, Albedo caught sight of his lover. Although there were bandages wrapped around her head and other parts of her body, he gently tapped on the door; a small greeting for her to hear, not one that may be too disruptive for someone who’s in recovery.

As her head turned and the two saw each other, the sculptor smiled.

“Greetings. Still trying to decipher the book, are you, Kendall?”

The latter blinked, the cogs obviously turning before he saw her nod with a gentle smile. “Yes, I wanted to know why I’m drawn to this book,�� she answered him, making him hum and walk closer to her. Pulling up a seat, he glanced at the cover and the contents to see what she was reading.

“Challenger Deep… I see. This book can be quite tricky to understand,” he comments, his hand reaching to the cover. “However, you can try and read it later. I have something to show you at my house, Kendall.”

Closing the book, the blonde looked at his partner, smiling ever so gently with how she lit up.

It was different. So different from the reaction she’d give him, and it sometimes made him feel like he was dreaming. Alas, he isn’t, and he knew that to be the case for him and Kendall. After all, he made sure it wouldn’t come to light.

“Let’s go. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Grabbing her hand, he grabbed the book and placed it on the table, keeping it closed. Leading his lover out of the living room, he helped her get her shoes and make some bits of conversation between them. He didn’t wish to make the mood tense, but it seems that she’s beaten him to it.

Albedo is never this talkative to anyone. To him, speaking takes a lot of his energy, and he is never fond of the idea. Though, with the one he’s with, he never found the idea revolting nor exhausting; she reminded him of Sucrose, minus that she’s a lot more outspoken with her thoughts to the alchemist.

It was an amusing sight: a man who refused to speak more than he had to, paired with a woman who loved to speak to those she found close with.

Their journey down to his apartment was as quick as he remembered. He kept a tight grip of Kendall as they went out and about, telling her that she must stay close, lest someone would see her and bring either of them trouble.

He knew why it must be done. People may still be out to look for her, and he didn’t want to risk anything to happen to his beloved.

Still, the real surprise came when he managed to reach his home. Pulling out the keys, he pushed one in and turned it, unlocking the door and letting her enter right inside his abode. Though, he found himself looking back for a moment.

It was strange. He swore he felt eyes pierce through him, but…

…

It must be nothing, he thought. No one would ever dare to follow me.

Turning back around, he entered the house, the floorboards creaking under his feet as he closed the door shut. He could already hear noises from inside his house, but he paid it no heed as he simply walked through to find where she ended up.

The soft thudding of boot meeting the floor echoed, and even the soft creaks didn’t deter him as much as it had used to.

He was used to it. It was his only home, after all.

“Albedo?” he heard a voice faintly call out. “Albedo, what is this?”

Ah, she’s found it.

“I’m right here,” he answered, entering his studio and watching as she stood in front of the now uncovered statue. The light began to shine and give the features more clarity, laying bare to what the two can see without a moment to lose.

The statue before the two had parts of themselves that had been sculpted by hand and blade, the skin color being the same as the one Kendall had with a few stitches and blemishes that Albedo wasn’t bothering himself too much to clean up. The attire had been commissioned by someone he knew, as it accentuated the statue’s body from head to toe.

The eyes remained closed as the hair was cut to her hairstyle, but there were some obvious patches and discoloration that shows its original color, which was something different entirely.

The face is what caught her by surprise, however. She had expected it to look like it was the same as hers, or even a human being’s face, but it was just patched with makeup and rough cuts. It was far too eerie to even put it to words, but Kendall can only look at it and then turn her gaze to Albedo.

He made this, did he? So why did this happen? Why is it made to look like an abhorrent abomination?

“I assume you like it, do you?” he asked her, his face still holding that same smile as he went closer to her. “You must be. After all, I’ve wasted blood, sweat, and tears over making this for you.”

It seems that’s all the answers they need from him.

“Don’t you think it’s perfect, too?”

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

#💌 ;; message delivery #💌 ;; from: albedo #💌 ;; to: armin-ocean-eyes #💌 ;; promising letter: one last call #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere gi #genshin impact #genshin #gi #yandere albedo #yandere #yandere writing #yandere text #male yandere #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo

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vettelsdarling · 1 year

Note

I’m so in love with Max Verstappen lol can u write a one shot but where he isn’t a driver and both the reader and max are just normal people? Can you also make it a smut >_<

𝑺𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏

➪Ask and you shall receive ;)

➪I chose to base this off an interaction I’ve had irl, that I thought was pretty writable lol (most is fiction!)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: (Minors dni) smut, swearing

Word Count: 3.5k+

You were visiting The Netherlands for a couple of weeks because you had a job there. You were a talented journalist from Vogue, but only one of many other writers. To show your boss that you had more potential than she thought, you decided to do a revolutionary piece on Amsterdam. You decided, one night, that you wanted some wine whilst writing your intro. There was a small and modest liquor store close to your hotel, so you didn’t have to worry about public transportation. It was nearing the evening and the sun was starting to set, which meant you had to pick up the pace if you wanted to make it in time.

When you got to the store, you found that you were the only one there. There was no cashier or worker in sight, but the store was open. Browsing the different aged wines had you feeling like you had taken the high road. Old money style. You were in your own little world, taking pictures of the different bottles and even holding out a peace sign in front of one of them and snapping a picture. After a while, you noticed a song come on the speakers. It was something you recognized from your earlier years in college when you went out partying constantly. The song had been popular back then, and the nostalgia hit you like a freight train. You already had your phone out, and you knew it’d be impossible to sleep without knowing the name of the song, so you held up your phone to one of the speakers and turned on your Shazam app. It kept loading and failing and loading and failing.

“I see that you like the song,” a voice said. It was smooth and had a thick Dutch accent. A hint of a smirk was mixed into it as well. Upon retracting your arm and turning to face the voice, you found the shop clerk staring you down with what could’ve been the most jaw-dropping smirks of the century. He was a sight for sore eyes. That was for sure. You buried your face in your hands out of embarrassment, as he’d caught you trying to Shazam a song on the speakers.

“If you must know, that song is… Slow Down, by Chase Atlantic.” Trying to save face and not look like a cartoon character, you removed your hands from your face and politely thanked him.

“Thanks, I should get going now, though. I have a train to catch in the morning.” That was a lie. All you had to do the following morning was report to your boss about current developments.

“That’s a shame, I could’ve prepared a special tasting for a gorgeous lady like you.” An immediate blush spread across your face. The effect he had on you was obvious and it only fueled his ego and confidence.

“I suppose a tasting wouldn’t hurt.” You looked down at your wrist as if to check the time. The man kept looking at you with his mesmerizing eyes and deep gaze. You knew damn well it could’ve been your own delusions. That he may have tried to merely act friendly or treat the last customer of the night real nice. It was impossible to say for sure. You had been in one too many situations where you'd accidentally misread a situation.

“You look deep in thought, darling. Relax and come with me to the back. That’s where I keep the best wine.” You could hear your own thoughts screaming at you to do something. Darling? That was something you’d only ever read in romance books. Was he even real?

“So, what’s your name?” He asked as he browsed his gallery of fine wines. You hesitantly told him your name and saw his face light up with a tiny smirk,

“That’s a beautiful name. Mine’s Max. Max Verstappen.” You took a mental note of his name in case you weren’t going to get his number later in the evening.

“So what brings you to Amsterdam?” His genuine curiosity made him that much more attractive. You couldn’t tell whether to cry tears of joy or run away from such a foreign feeling of delight.

“I’m a journalist or writer. Whichever name suits the piece I work on. I’m just here to do a review of my time here. It’s supposed to act as a travel ad, I guess.” He nodded, smiled, and pulled out a bottle he fancied.

“Sounds like quite the job, do you enjoy it?” He poured you a glass and also a glass for himself. A whole glass? Here you thought it was going to be a simple tasting.

“Oh uhh, yeah, I’ve loved writing since I was young. I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing.” Reminiscing about your younger self showing off your short stories to your older siblings and family members had you smiling like a fool. Max, being observant, picked up on it and took a mental picture of your smile. He’d never seen anyone as radiant as you.

“How’d you get into the wine business, if I may ask?” You watched him contemplate for a brief moment, before eventually telling you about his family and his legacy.

“So, yeah, here I am taking over my father’s business. He does most night shifts, but he had some errands to run this evening… so you’re stuck with me.” Was the liquid courage already going to your head, or were you really just that bold? You decided to look him directly in the eyes as you told him,

“I’m glad I decided to come tonight of all nights, then.” Your head was swimming in some newfound confidence. Perhaps Max had rubbed it off on you.

“Sure you are,” he chuckled and poured himself another glass. You weren’t a lightweight, and he didn’t seem to be one either, so you asked him to pour you another glass as well.

“I should probably go after this round. I have to do something tomorrow morning.” You chugged the last of your wine and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Yeah, heard you before. You have to catch a train, huh?” You just nodded to not seem suspicious and began walking towards the exit.

Before you had the chance to though, Max grabbed your arm and turned you around. His face was etched with confusion, not even understanding his own actions. The two of you stood there for a short while before he slowly let go.

“Sorry, I- um. I don’t know why I did that.” Your teeth subconsciously tugged at your lower lip and you gulped before taking a leap of faith.

“Wanna see my place? It’s just a hotel room, but the view is wonderful,” you broke the unnerving silence. Max took every word in and ultimately responded with,

“No, I think you should see my place instead.” Your boldness was met with twice as much boldness coming from him. You found it hard to breathe, let alone think. He started turning the lights off in the shop and clearing a few bottles that had been on display.

“I’ll lock up and then we can go. I’m sure my view is better than yours in more than just one way.” His smirk as those words left his mouth was smooth. Not just smooth— it was unreal. You were desperate for more.

You waited for him to finish up and when the two of you finally got out, and you heard the clank of his keys— he made you lock your arms around his arm. With that, you enjoyed the night sky and the dimmed street lamps. You took in the fresh air; a stark contrast to the New York air you were so used to. Max mostly stayed quiet, but he’d quip a fun fact about his country here and there when walking past the few sculptures that adorned the streets of Amsterdam.

“I’m starting to think you don’t even live in Amsterdam. We’ve been walking for at least an hour now,” you chuckled. Just as if your words were magic, he stopped walking and motioned for you to look up. There you saw a gorgeous penthouse. You never would’ve thought he’d live so luxuriously.

“Wait, that’s your place?” Your eyes were wide open. A small grin crept up his face and he shook his head,

“No, I’m just kidding. My place isn’t that fancy. I’m barely able to pay rent. It’s a day-to-day thing.” His living situation was surprisingly similar to yours. Most apartments in New York were too expensive to rent out, so you lived in a modest, but cosy apartment with your personality plastered all over. The rent was cheap and you had excess money to spend on personal indulgences.

“Actually, me too. Some would say I live like a peasant,” you joked.

“Great, we’ll be poor together,” he finished. The two of you had a quick laugh about your financial situations before you finally arrived at his place. It was a bit bigger than your own and had 3 rooms total. He showed you around his small flat, starting with the kitchen which connected to the living room. Then he showed you the bathroom, which had a rich lavender scent. He explained that his sister frequently gave him different essential oils and thymes and air fresheners that she’d find whilst travelling. He never knew what else to do with them but make his bathroom smell like a fairytale garden. He was getting closer and closer to being the greenest of flags you’d ever encountered. He showed you to his office which was the smallest room in the entire apartment, fitting only him. There was a tiny space for him to squeeze through and get to his chair.

Then the time came to see his bedroom. The state of people’s houses was one thing, but a bedroom could tell you everything you’d need to know about a person’s personality. It was where they would spend most of their intimate moments. Max’s room was simple. Simple yet stunning. He had a few family portraits on his shelf and a bookshelf you could only dream of having. On a small drawer, he had a TV with a remote next to it. His bed was queen-sized and the pillows were almost bigger than the headboard. The sheets were pearl-white and silk. Just above the headboard was a painting. It was a copy of The Fallen Angel. You recognized it from the required fine arts classes you took in college. It was a gorgeous painting that made the mind go around in circles.

“Yeah, that painting was a gift from my father. It’s a little out of place here but I didn’t know what else to do with it.” Max scratched the back of his neck and leaned against the doorframe.

“I love your place. It’s certainly nicer than my own. I haven’t had much luck with decorating like you. I mostly just have cheap and simplistic stuff from IKEA, if I’m being honest.” You sighed and sat down on his bed. The duvet hugged your hips as your body weighed down on the bed. Max went to sit beside you and decided to let himself fall back. You followed suit.

“IKEA isn’t bad at all. I like simplicity. Who doesn’t?”

“I don’t know, I guess it isn’t really all that bad.” You could feel your heart rate increasing as you heard Max shuffle. It could only mean one thing; he’d turned his head to face you. Frozen. You were completely frozen. You wanted to do the same, but for whatever reason— you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Any courage you had earlier was gone. Nowhere to be found.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” That’s what made you turn. You saw the curious look in his eyes and the genuine tug on his lips. You weren’t one to have one-night stands or sleep around, but you felt a certain pull. A pull that you found hard to resist. Max was magnetic and your body wanted nothing more than to be glued to him.

After you didn’t say anything, he moved closer to you and moved a strand of hair out of your face. His touch sent shivers down your spine. You felt an electrical current run through your entire body, coupled with a warm feeling starting to pool in your lower abdomen. The silence only seemed to pull the two of you closer, but it was obvious Max had more guts than you.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” you muttered. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You definitely did.

“Wait, you’re a virgin?”

“Oh, no no, nothing like that. I’ve just never really been into hooking up with strangers,” you explained. He almost laughed at that.

“We don’t need to be strangers, darling. This is just the beginning.” There was something about the way he said it, that had your mind running wild. At the same time, though, you didn’t want to come off as desperate. So you waited for him to strike his next move.

Luckily, good things come to those who wait. He leaned in for a kiss that moulded into a more heated one. With more and more time passing by, it only got wilder. He switched your positions so that he was on top. Your fingers were intertwined with his blonde strands of hair. There was nothing left to do but start pulling at his shirt. He took it as a sign to pull away and rid himself of the article of clothing. After he threw it into a corner, he took that opportunity to admire the sight below him. There you were; sprawled out beneath him with rosy cheeks and lips that were swollen from all the kissing. Your half-lidded eyes looked up at him and he couldn’t get enough.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear before he dove back down to then attack your neck. It didn’t take him long to find your sweet spot. Once he found it, the whimpers flooding from your mouth egged him on. He fiddled with the hem of your shirt and instead of pulling it over your head, he ripped it off you.

“Hey, my shirt!”

“You can have one of mine instead. I bet they suit you better than they do me,” he whispered in your ear. His breath was hot against your ear. You didn’t actually mind the ripped shirt. It was a Walmart shirt that you got from a buy 1 get 1 sale. You weren’t wearing lace, but you thanked your earlier self for deciding to wear matching underwear.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to completely discard all of your clothes. Max struggled with the clasp of your bra, which you took over and got off. In his eyes, everything was perfect. There’s no such thing as a perfect being; he knew that, but there you were. Beyond perfect. He relished in his victory.

“Can you do me a favour and be as loud as you can for me?” You saw the look on Max’s face and he slowly started kissing down your body. You felt each suck going further and further down. Dangerously close to your cunt. With each gasp you made, the Dutchman gave your hips a squeeze. It was as if getting you off was enough for him. You finally felt his tongue graze your slit and your hips bucked in appreciation. Better yet, he wasn’t a tease about it. He went straight into it, sucking and moving his tongue in ways that made you scream his name like a holy mantra. The walls of the apartment were thin. Perhaps you’d have to apologize to his neighbours the following morning.

He kept going and you started pulling his hair as you got closer and closer to your release. He sensed your need and you immediately felt everything intensifying. There was no way you’d be able to hold back. So you didn’t. With a final scream of his name, you reached your peak and surfed through it gently with his help. Coming down was smoother than the silk sheets you were breathing ever so heavily on.

“Where did you learn to do that?” You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard. So hard for so many reasons.

“If I’m being honest, that was my first time doing that. I was pretty nervous about it, but now I know how you like it.” Was he a god? A sex god? You watched as he moved back up to you, spitting in his hand and wrapping it around his dick. He was above average but certainly made up for it in girth. You started to wonder whether he’d fit or not, but before you could let your mind wander too far, you felt him slide his dick up and down your slit, lubricating himself with your essence. The way he’d graze your clit with the head was to die for. You already knew you were going to be in for a ride.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks to be sure. If there was one thing you appreciated more than anything— it was asking for consent.

“I am. I’m on the pill as well. You can go on,” you said and bucked your hips, to feel just a little more pressure. There was no need for that, however, because as soon as those words left your mouth; he went for it.

You felt him enter slowly and carefully, letting you adjust to his size along the way. He stretched you out like you’d break in a new shoe. When he finally reached the end and couldn’t push any more in, he waited for you to tell him to move. A true gentleman. When you nodded, he almost pulled all the way out, before slamming into you again. You couldn’t help but choke out his name, accidentally leaving a scratch on his shoulder. In response, he attacked your neck. His movements were swift and steady. Your legs were wrapped tightly around him, as he held your hips with his smooth hands. Your hands were now in his hair, pulling and scratching. Your pants synced with his and the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other.

As much as you loved the current position, you wanted more. No, you needed more. He noticed it and pulled out. In that brief moment, you felt emptier than ever. You proceeded to climb on top of him, shoving him back inside you. This time, he was able to reach much deeper. The position was so erotic. He was able to watch as your breasts bounced and your eyes rolled back. It was heaven on earth for him.

“Fuck, you’re absolutely out of this world,” he panted and squeezed your hips, guiding you up and down his veiny dick. Your hands rested on his shoulder and you lowered your head to pull Max into a kiss, connecting a string of saliva as you pulled away. When you felt him thrust up into you in a rather sloppy manner, you knew he was close; and so were you. Your movements became more erratic and desperate.

“Do it, finish all over my dick, darling,” he groaned and continued helping you with your release as well as his. You bounced a few more times before slamming down one last time. Hard. You felt yourself tip over the edge, spilling all of your juices on Max’s abdomen. At the same time, you felt him shoot his own load into you, filling you with a certain delight.

The two of you sat there for a little before you got off him and found a place next to him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and had your head on his shoulder. You felt his heartbeat starting to slow down after coming down from the incredible high.

“That’s what that’s supposed to feel like,” you sighed, which was followed by a chuckle from the both of you.

“You lied about the train tomorrow morning, didn't you?” You could tell he was smirking by the tone of his voice.

“I may have.”

“You should cancel the remaining days at your hotel and come live here. I don’t want us to be strangers,” said Max.

“Sure, why not?” You snuggled into his nape and closed your eyes.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep. Let’s get you all cleaned up first.” You realized that Max was no stranger at all. You had a feeling that he’d stick around for a long long time. At least you wanted him to, and it seemed like he wanted that too.

“Okay, stranger.” You got up and saw the smile on his face. He was cuter than you initially thought.

“Perhaps I could take this stranger out on a date tomorrow? I know of a great coffee shop nearby,” Max suggested and got up as well. You nodded and smiled, the two of you both leaving for the lavender-scented bathroom.

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

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galacticnikki · 14 hours

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100 Witchcraft Tips in 100 Days!

Day 4 - How to Create a Herbal Grimoire

A Herbal Grimoire is a journal, notebook, or online resource where you note down what you learn. Note down your research on the plant, your experiences using it in spells, the results of the spells. Over time it will grow and be a sort of encyclopedia tailored to your personal practice and knowledge. It should also overtime become a reference guide there to help you remember correspondences, notice patterns in your practice, and track the success of your spells.

How to Start Your Herbal Grimoire

1. Choose Your Format: You want to start by picking where you want to make your grimoire. You could use a notebook, a journal, loose paper, a binder, any note apps, if you're able to write in or on it then it's a format you can use.

2. Sections to Include: You can divide up your grimoire into sections to keep it organized. Here's a few ideas for sections:

Herb Profiles: Set aside a page to write about its correspondences, physical properties, folklore, or personal experiences with it.

Spells and Recipes: Write down any spells or recipes you make using herbs. Write down the ingredients, steps, and outcome of each spell.

Harvesting and Storage Tips: Include guidelines on how to properly harvest, dry, and store each herb.

Personal Reflections: As you work with herbs, reflect on your experiences with them. Ask yourself questions like "How did the spell feel using those specific herb?" or "What herbs do I tend to gravitate towards?"

3. Correspondences: Research each herb's magical properties and write them down. You can include elemental correspondences, planetary rulers, or even deity associations.

4. Add Personal Touches: Always remember this is your book, you can design it however you want. Customize your book however you see fit.

Why a Herbal Grimoire is Important

It Becomes Your Personal Guide: Even though there are many correspondences you can find in books or online, having your own grimoire brings you closer to your practice. You might even learn something new that you haven't seen anywhere else.

It Tracks Your Growth: As you write down your experiences you'll begin to notice how you're practice has evolved over time. You might start noticing patterns and specific herbs you're drawn to.

It Enhances Focus and Intention: Writing down your research and experience also helps you to retain the knowledge you've learned.

It Helps Build a Deeper Connection with Nature: As you learn more about working with herbs the more you learn about nature. This let's you know more about your local environment and how you could potentially help it.

Tips for Keeping a Grimoire

Consistency is Key: Regularly update your grimoire with new information.

Make if Your Own: Don't be scared to stray from the traditional correspondences if others better match your results.

Don't Rush: You're grimoire will slowly grow over time. Don't feel pressured to fill it up quickly. The more thought you put into your grimoire the better it'll be.

If you want to find more of these entries use the hashtag #100 Witchcraft Tips in 100 Days! This post was reuploaded due to an error with tags on the previous post.

#100 Witchcraft Tips in 100 Days #witch #witchcraft #baby witch #witchblr #paganblr #herbal witch #100 days challenge #beginner witch #witchcraft tips

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ridiasfangirlings · 2 months

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMMoqBGT3/ this with sarumi except the twist is Saruhiko is the writer and Yata the serial killer (I just don't think Yata would prefer writing over killing for some reason .. and comedic purposes)

Imagine Yata as a vaguely incompetent serial killer who’s only gotten away with it so far out of dumb luck, until he meets crime writer Fushimi who starts inadvertently telling him how to do it properly. I have trouble seeing Yata as someone who would be killing for the fun of it though so maybe he’s more like a ‘vigilante’ style serial killer, he kills people who think they’re above the law or who get light sentences for horrible crimes. When he was a kid his mom and stepdad were murdered by his bio-dad who managed to get off scott free on a technicality and it soured Yata on the whole justice system. Years later he managed to kill his dad himself, the body wasn’t found for years and Yata wasn’t a suspect because they’d had no contact since he was a kid. This makes Yata feel like maybe he can make a difference by getting rid of anyone he thinks the world would he better off without (oh and maybe he even kills Niki and Kisa, and the cops don’t catch him because Fushimi gets to the crime scene first and hides some crucial evidence since the killer did him such a favor after all).

Yata works day jobs as a butcher in grocery store Homra run by Kusanagi and imagine he’s been feeling a little nervous lately because he almost got caught on his last kill. The Homra guys don’t know Yata’s a serial killer and just assume he’s feeling down because Kamamoto just got engaged and here Yata’s never been on a date with anyone. They decide to set Yata up with this dating app, Yata isn’t aware until it’s already installed that it matches you with others based on your search history and now he’s on high alert because his search history is…bad. He ends up matching with this guy Fushimi Saruhiko though and Yata decides why not, he may as well go on a date so he can get the guys off his back.

When he first meets Fushimi they don’t seem to get along well at all, Yata can’t believe he matched with this gloomy nerd guy who looks like he never leaves the house. Fushimi grumbles that his annoying publisher made him a profile on the app without his consent and Yata’s like wait a publisher do you write. It turns out Fushimi is a really popular crime fiction/mystery author who writes under a pseudonym, Yata’s like oh I think I read some of one of your books before. Without thinking he adds that he thought the way the killer cleaned up the crime scene was unrealistic. Yata realizes what he just said and has an ‘oh shit’ moment, thinking he gave himself away, but Fushimi just clicks his tongue and adjusts his glasses as he says it wasn’t unrealistic at all, explaining the best way to clean up a crime scene without getting caught. Yata’s never really been good at the cleanup and starts taking mental notes. Eventually imagine Fushimi mentions he’s working on a short story right now but he’s stuck on the best way to stab someone so they’ll bleed out in just the right time frame, Yata’s like oh hey I know that one. Soon they’re just back and forth chatting about murder without a care in the world.

Thanks to Fushimi Yata is now an even better killer, he starts following Fushimi’s advice and suddenly his kills are much harder for the police detectives to deal with, imagine the detectives assigned to his cases had thought they were close to a breakthrough but now they aren’t even sure if this killer is the same guy. At the same time Yata likes to hang out with Fushimi while he’s writing, answering questions about how much blood is in the human body and could you really get blood out of bed sheets with this specific cleaner. Whenever Fushimi asks how Yata knows this kind of thing Yata laughs nervously and says he’s a butcher. Fushimi accepts that with a click of his tongue and doesn’t ask again, though imagine Yata is feeling a bit guilty because isn’t this like him using Fushimi and what if he gets Fushimi in trouble because Yata’s crimes are too similar to ones in Fushimi’s books. Eventually he comes to visit Fushimi one day as a police detective is leaving, Yata worriedly asks what happened and Fushimi says just people being idiots, thinking fiction is reality. Yata decides he has to confess but imagine Fushimi’s just like ‘I know,’ Yata’s all wait how the fuck did you know and Fushimi scoffs as he says for a serial killer Yata’s a terrible liar (also he hopes Yata enjoyed the free advice, Fushimi figures he owes Yata one for killing his parents which is, after all, the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him).

#sarumi #Talking K #I just can't see Yata as an indiscriminate killer #so maybe it's like for justice #and he's just lucking his way into not being caught until he meets Fushimi #who basically tells him how to commit the perfect murder #and figures it out pretty quickly too #Yata's like how did you know #and Fushimi's like did you really think I'd believe you know how fast a human bleeds out bc you slice meat at work

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artthemasquerade · 7 months

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Ife x Seth CG Redraw

So I've finished playing through the first book of Tablet of Isis (from the League of Dreamers app) with Seth's(Set) romance route and oh gosh I do adore this romance with this God of Storms so much so far, and I'm excited to see more of what this route has in store, I want to squee about it but I also don't want to spoil it, but to say it has a lot of the tropes that I like in a complicated romance route! :D I will say that tho I am enjoying Tablet of Isis a lot, it isn't the most accurate about Egyptian mythology so I wouldn't play it if that would annoy you too much XDD Anyway, this picture is a redraw of this cg you get in Seth's route

where he gifts Ife a lotus necklace since she had to leave behind the lotus flower he had given her when they first met, and I was so taken by it that I wanted to redraw it, namely cause I really loved it and also cause I was annoyed by the fact League of Dreamers keep having the MC having red hair or brown hair in cgs when my hair is always black. and why yes I do have a fondness for god like beings giving their loved one a necklace, a sign of their care and devotion to them XD

Also I want to mention that I am taking a break from commissions for a week since I am a little burned out from working on four commission at once for the past week and will be taking it easier on art for now. :3

Btw if you like what you see and want a commission drop me a direct message on tumblr, instagram, a note on deviantart or artistree https://artistree.io/missn11

#my art #fanart #league of dreamers #league of dreamers fanart #league of dreamers art #tablet of isis #tablet of isis fanart #digital art #digital fanart #artists on tumblr #tablet of isis art #Ife #seth #Seth #Ife/Set #Ife/Seth

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nagisasstunningpersonality · 1 year

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Comprehensive Guide For Assassination Classroom Content

Because it's pretty hard to find a straight up list of it all. Please note that whilst I believe this is accurate, I was not involved in the fandom whilst the series was active and so could reasonably miss something.

Core Content

Assassination Classroom manga as serialised in Shounen Jump. If you buy the physical volumes, there's a bit of additional content between chapters, most notably introductory character profiles.

Assassination Classroom anime (some count seasons 1 and 2 as separate entities)

Assassination Classroom Meeting Time - an animated short featuring Korosensei and Karasuma's first meeting.

Assassination Classroom Extra Curricular Lessons - adaptations of a couple of manga chapters that weren't in the show itself. I'll just link a playlist here. Fun fact this is where Nagisa gets hit by a chair (lowkey he deserved it)

Additional Content

365 Days Movie. This isn't 'canon' as it's an anime original thing. There's no official English release that I know of. Honestly the movie is mostly a series recap, and only features Karma and Nagisa in new scenes. It's only really worth watching if you especially ship them as there's only maybe 10 minutes of actual content (and most of that is just montage, you can get the gist with this)

Roll Call Book - this was published mid manga run. It's mostly just a bunch of bonus content particularly character based. No official English translation exists, but snippets are easy enough to find online.

Graduation Album - as the name implies, it accompanies the end of the manga. About half of it is an art book, but there's extra character information especially about their post graduation lives. Crucially it includes a few manga shorts which extend past the actual canon ending.

Korotan A, B, C, and D plus Korosuu. They're mostly just Assassination Classroom themed text books (Seriously. My actual university book store sold them.) Korotans are for English vocabulary, Korosuu is for maths. Notably each book also contains a light novel (sometimes these are just referred to as 'the light novels'). It is debatable how canon these are as Matsui didn't write them, but he was involved through illustrating and overseeing the writing. Korotan D is especially debated because it's post canon content set when 3E are 18, but there's a small 'it was all a dream' implication right at the end of the book. Personally speaking I take them as full canon.

Official Spin Offs

The live action movies (part one and two). They change a lot of plot so I place them more in the spin off area. Easily skippable.

Korosensei Quest Manga (otherwise known as Koro Q) - a spin off gag manga set in a fantasy/video game inspired universe. This is not canon (unfortunately) and as far as I understand Matsui isn't involved in it. There's an implication of the idea it's Fuwa's own manga creation. Overall there are four volumes but there's no official English version (though fan scans aren't hard to find).

Korosensei Quest Anime - lightly based on the Koro Q manga. This is only a short 10 episode series though, and was complete long before the original, as such only the first few episodes are actual adaptations and it starts doing its own thing. All voice cast return so that's neat.

The OVA - basically an early adaptation of the Kyoto arc. Link here. It was released in 2013 so predates the actual anime, and a lot of the voice cast are different.

White day shorts featuring Karma, Maehara, and Nagisa - posted on official website as an otome game parody for promotion. Included because they're voice acted.

The 3DS games. They're region locked as far as I understand, and there's no translation of them. You can find it dumped if you know what you're doing with emulators, I've only played a few minutes of it myself.

The app game - no longer available. It was a gatcha tie in game featuring a variety of character illustrations.

Various merch lines and related illustrations. There are far too many to list and new ones still come out sometimes.

As I said, I hope I covered everything but there's a good possibility something slipped my mind.

#ass class #assassination classroom #ansatsu kyoushitsu

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nanowrimo · 2 years

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Four Traps that can Kill your NaNoWriMo Novel

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. Dabble, a 2022 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is an easy-to-use writing tool that lets you organize, plot, and create amazing stories. Today, Dabbler Robert Smith shares some tips on how to avoid some common writing pitfalls:

Writing a novel is a journey that can be fraught with peril, challenges, and obstacles. Like any good adventurer, it’s best to be prepared for the traps that lay ahead.

1. Distractions

We’ve all been there: we planned out time to write, but then macaroni explodes in the microwave and all that time is suddenly gone. Or maybe that’s just me.

Regardless of the pyrotechnic capabilities or your cheesy pasta, you’ve probably found yourself distracted from writing before.

There are tons of studies proving how distractions tear down our ability to perform. The best thing you can do is remove as many distractions from your environment as possible. Here’s how to do it:

Set up your writing space to be boring (but not uninspiring!).

You can’t write effectively with a movie on.

You can’t write effectively while talking to someone.

You can’t write effectively while cleaning up macaroni.

Leave tech elsewhere.

You don’t need your phone while writing (unless you’re writing on it).

Hide your most distracting items far away from your writing space.

Turn off pop-up notifications on your laptop, especially email.

Set your writing app to focus mode.

You just need to be alone with your words and notes.

Dabble automatically fades to focus mode when you write.

2. Perfectionism

This one can get the best of even the most experienced writers. When you’re writing a draft, let it be a draft.

Some people will have a higher tolerance for their own grammar mistakes than others. But, if you find yourself grinding to a halt each writing session just so you can rephrase each sentence to achieve beautiful prose, you’re probably letting perfectionism kill your novel. Here are some tips to get past perfectionism:

Turn off grammar and spell check.

I know that this sounds blasphemous, but it really can help with momentum.

You can toggle these on and off super quickly in Dabble.

Set some “no backspace” time.

This one can be even scarier than the last.

This strategy also gets easier with practice.

3. Imposter Syndrome

So you’re all set for those words to flow and that book to come to life. Then even more macaroni erupts in the microwave. You don’t know where all this pasta keeps coming from, and suddenly you’re convinced you’ll never be a writer.

Okay that might just be me again, but you know what I’m talking about. Especially with creative endeavors, imposter syndrome plagues our minds. Here are some tips to get past it: