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gemviews · 2 months ago

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[ RAFE CAMERON ] ― OH , LITTLE MISS KOOK PRINCESS ! ━━━ PART ONE !

pairing: kook princess!black fem!reader x postseason3!rafe cameron.

summary: another party at the country club—one of your favorite spots to frequent. rafe, as usual, is there too, but this time, he’s fed up. your attitude, the one you always throw his way whenever you cross paths, has finally worn thin. but something’s different tonight. the usual playful banter between you two stops abruptly, and it pisses you off more than you care to admit. little by little, you start realizing it’s not just silence—it’s a game, and without even knowing it, you’re slowly playing right into rafe’s hands.

warnings: just pure sexual tension from rafe, craved attention from the reader. bratty x ignoring asshole.

"he’s with his coke whores again," y/n muttered, grimacing as she swirled the crystal tumbler filled with tequila and a hint of orange juice.

her two-toned, glossed lips parted slightly as she brought the thin black straw to her mouth. rafe hadn't even glanced her way after stepping into the island club, his focus elsewhere as he strode past her at the bar without so much as a nod. she had glared at him, and he had seen it—but chose to ignore her.

he did it on purpose.

now, rafe was lounging in the open seating area, his laughter echoing across the room as the usual crowd of kooks girls fawned over him, each one desperate for his attention.

they gathered around him, preening and giggling, all except y/n—the one girl who hadn’t fallen at his feet the moment she arrived in the outer banks.

that defiance had earned her the nickname "kook princess," a title once reserved for his sister, sarah cameron, before her relationship with john b. routledge became public knowledge in figure eight.

y/n, however, never seemed to care about the label, though she certainly lived up to it. her grace, her effortless elegance, and most of all, her humility—it was almost as if she hadn’t come from money at all.

and that’s exactly what infuriated rafe. how could the so-called "princess" be so kind to everyone else, yet reserve all her icy indifference for him? he wasn’t used to women turning away when he spoke to them, let alone ignoring him entirely. it gnawed at him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

rafe could feel the icy glare from y/n long before he turned his head in her direction. when he finally looked at her across the room, her bare back was to him, her posture tense, almost defiant.

what began as a passing glance quickly turned into a locked stare.

after downing her tequila sunrise, y/n moved away from the bar and drifted toward the catering area. she picked up a small slice of tiramisu, her fingers delicately wielding a plastic fork as she cut into the cake and brought a bite to her lips. she slid the fork into her mouth slowly, savoring the taste.

in rafe’s eyes, everything unfolded in slow motion. his gaze followed the curve of her toned brown legs, up to where her skinny heels wrapped around her ankles. the light pink dress she wore flared just above her thighs, its puffy hem contrasting with the way the fabric hugged her slim waist. the dress dipped low in the back, held up by thin straps—straps rafe wanted to slip off her shoulders so badly.

as y/n licked the frosting from the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue, rafe’s breath hitched. every bratty remark that left her mouth only made him angrier, but god, how he wanted that mouth on him.

“rafe?” one of the girls’ voices broke through the haze, snapping him out of his daze. she held up a small ziplock bag filled with a white, powdery substance, grinning. “wanna turn this club up?” she asked, her smirk full of suggestion.

surprisingly, rafe had been sober for two weeks. he sucked his teeth, battling the familiar itch crawling up his spine before waving off the offer. “not tonight,” he muttered, excusing himself from the group with a forced smile.

meanwhile, y/n, having noticed him staring earlier, mentally rolled her eyes. with unnecessary force, she stabbed her fork into the middle of the tiramisu, leaving the plate behind on the catering table before spinning around with attitude, as if anticipating rafe’s approach. she knew he was creeping closer, just like always.

there he was. rafe wore that same cocky smirk she’d always wanted to slap off his face. “nice dress,” he teased, letting his fingers graze the puffy hem of her dress. “didn’t know you were attending an elementary school graduation.”

before he could pull away, y/n swatted his hand, her glare sharp enough to cut. “oh, mr. cameron,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “shouldn’t you be on your third line of coke by now? or are we saving the overdose for later?”

rafe’s jaw clenched at her words, his jawline sharpening as he swallowed down the sting of her remark. she always knew exactly where to hit, and he hated how much it got to him. “okay, princess,” he bit out, the usual arrogance in his tone replaced with something heavier, something resigned.

y/n’s perfectly arched brows furrowed in confusion. usually, rafe would fire back with something about her mother marrying into money or call her a skank in front of everyone. but this? this felt different. and for a moment, it threw her off her game.

her eyes darted around him, tracking his every movement as the tall frame of his body loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to shrink the space between them.

without breaking eye contact, rafe reached behind y/n, effortlessly grabbing the tiramisu she had abandoned on the table. the subtle scent of his expensive, woodsy cologne filled the air as he leaned in closer, brushing the edge of her personal space.

despite the intimidating stance he held, y/n refused to back down. “okay, princess?” she repeated, her voice laced with a dry laugh.

“don’t tell me you’re getting tired of me already,” she teased, her eyes glinting with challenge.

rafe responded with a low, sarcastic laugh, running a hand over his freshly buzzed hair. before y/n could brace herself, he did something unexpected—he picked up the tiramisu she had been eating, calmly cutting off another piece with the fork and taking a bite from the very same utensil she had used. his eyes never left hers as he chewed, the audacity of it all catching her completely off guard.

she couldn’t believe it. rafe was deliberately toying with her. he had gone from ignoring her to refusing to engage in their usual back-and-forth, and now this? he was pushing her buttons, and it was clear what he wanted.

he wasn’t just teasing her—he wanted her to crave the attention he was withholding. he was determined to make her fall at his feet, and he wasn’t going to stop until she did.

“tired of the kook princess? hm, never.” rafe smirked as he set down the plate after indulging in her tiramisu. “that’s good tiramisu. you should finish it.”

he turned as if to leave, but stopped just beside her, his presence lingering like a shadow. her tightly curled bundles cascaded down her back, and without hesitation, rafe reached out to push a strand away, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. he leaned in, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

“this little thing? it’s done. so watch your mouth from now on,” he whispered, his voice low and edged with warning, before casually strolling away, hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored slacks.

y/n stood frozen, the warmth of his body still lingering in the space he left behind. her gaze flickered from the half-eaten tiramisu to rafe’s retreating figure, watching as he effortlessly melted into the crowd of the country club.

she scoffed under her breath, momentarily dumbfounded. had that been a genuine threat? she couldn’t be sure, but something about his tone lingered in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn’t ignore.

one thing was clear—y/n didn’t know what game rafe was playing, but if he thought he could intimidate her, he was wrong. whatever this was, she was determined to come out on top.

y/n felt a rush of embarrassment wash over her, even though only a few familiar eyes were watching. she needed to escape, to find a moment alone to process what had just happened. her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor of the country club as she made her way back toward the entrance.

motioning to one of the staff, she requested her coat. the luxurious white mink slipped over her shoulders effortlessly, providing a brief shield against the chilly evening air that greeted her as she stepped outside.

her reliable mercedes benz was in the shop yet again, leaving her with no choice but to summon ubers one after another. not exactly fitting for the kook princess, was it?

standing on the concrete sidewalk, she forced polite smiles at the members passing by, whether they were arriving or departing. “where the hell is this ride?” y/n muttered to herself, tapping her phone screen impatiently as she checked the app for updates.

as the minutes dragged on, the unmistakable roar of a high-powered motorcycle engine filled the air. without even looking, she knew who it was.

there he was—the same buzz-cut brown atop a sleek black motorcycle, his arms flexing beneath the fitted v-neck polo he wore. a small gold chain glinted against his exposed collarbone.

he pulled off his tinted helmet, revealing the all-too-familiar smirk. what other kook would ride dangerously on a motorcycle if not rafe freaking cameron?

“c’mon,” rafe said, his tone short and demanding.

y/n scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the parking lot, hoping her uber would appear at that very moment. the last thing she wanted was to be roped into another one of his games.

“i wasn’t asking. get on.” rafe’s blue eyes bore into y/n, an unwavering intensity that made her heart race. still feeling bratty, she tossed her clutch at him, expecting him to catch it. slipping her phone into the pocket of her mink coat, she grabbed the helmet, fitting it onto her head with a huff.

with a cautious movement, y/n swung her leg over the seat behind rafe, settling down but keeping her hands stubbornly behind her. she refused to wrap them around him, even as the tension hung in the air.

rafe noticed her defiance, shaking his head with a low chuckle. he tossed the clutch aside, watching it sail into the parking lot, where it probably hit a nearby car. y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “you asshole! what the hell is your problem?”

she contemplated jumping off the bike, but before she could voice her anger, rafe revved the engine. he gripped the handlebars firmly, pulling back on the throttle as the motorcycle roared to life. y/n let out a startled yelp as they shot forward, the rush of speed immediately silencing her.

as they sped out of the country club parking lot, her arms instinctively wrapped around him, clinging tightly. rafe couldn’t help but chuckle at how quickly she capitulated.

“you have plenty at home. now be quiet, princess,” he teased, the thrill of the ride clearly delighting him.

“you’re a fucking psychopath! i want to get off!” y/n shouted over the roar of the engine as rafe swerved recklessly around cars, earning angry honks from irritated drivers. he ignored her, as usual, pushing her closer to the edge of her patience—and sanity.

y/n whimpered, her plump lips trembling as her arms tightened around him out of sheer fear. she hated motorcycles, and the way rafe was handling his made the experience unbearable.

rafe noticed the shift. her sharp remarks had faded into silence, replaced by the desperate grip around his torso. he felt the weight of the helmet pressing against his back, a clear sign that she had softened—fear had taken over. surprisingly, he didn’t want her like that, so he eased off, slowing down to drive more like a regular civilian under the night sky.

the rest of the ride around figure eight, leading to the y/l/n estate, was quiet. no more banter, no biting remarks from y/n. for once, the tension between them was replaced with an uneasy calm.

but deep down, he knew better. y/n wasn’t scared enough to lose her fire. the craving for attention still lingered beneath the surface—he could feel it. she just needed a moment to catch her breath.

rafe steered through the iron gates as y/n punched in the code, guiding the motorcycle up the long, empty driveway. her parents weren’t home—when were they ever? y/n exhaled in relief, grateful to have survived the wild ride back.

“ugh,” she muttered under her breath in mock disgust, realizing her head was still resting against rafe’s back as the bike came to a full stop right at the granite doorstep.

with a soft sigh, she straightened herself, pulling off the helmet and running her perfectly manicured fingers through her bundles to smooth out any potential frizz. “thanks,” she said, her voice quiet, almost as if the word was dragged out of her unwillingly.

rafe glanced over his shoulder, his fingers idly playing with the gold rings that adorned his slender hands. his eyes followed her carefully as she swung her leg over the motorcycle to stand, nearly catching a glimpse of the delicate white lace panties peeking beneath her dress. he quickly turned his head away, pretending not to notice the fabric, but a sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"you like white, rafe?" y/n teased, catching his gaze the second he turned away, having been caught in the act of sneaking a glance.

the sly smile faded from his lips, replaced by a casual shrug. "depends on who's wearing it," he retorted smoothly.

y/n smirked, shoving the helmet into his arms as she stepped closer. "so, me," she answered for him, her confidence palpable.

this time, it was rafe who had to look up. y/n leaned against the bike's handle, the scent of her signature ysl perfume swirling around him, intoxicating. his eyes trailed down to her chest, noticing how her breasts were perfectly pushed up beneath the fabric of her dress. finally, his gaze lifted to meet hers-soft, inviting, and utterly captivating.

for a brief moment, the thought crossed his mind-he could take her right there, out in the open, letting the entire gated community witness that rafe cameron had finally tasted the kook princess. while others begged for her, here she was, close enough for him to claim.

pushing aside his exotic thoughts, rafe smirked. “in your dreams, princess,” he shot back, effortlessly dismissing the confidence y/n was radiating. her lips twisted into a soft pout.

that face—that fucking pouty look—it was driving rafe into a mental spiral. the image of her beneath him with that exact expression was quickly taking over his mind, clouding his resolve.

y/n began to think that maybe he was serious about withholding his attention, but she had no idea—this was exactly what rafe wanted. he wanted her to crave it, to realize that he wouldn’t make it easy for her. she’d have to earn it, and he was going to make sure she knew just how hard that would be.

y/n refused to let her ego show any cracks. turning on her heel, her heels echoed loudly against the grand staircase leading up to the entrance.

“you owe me a new clutch, cameron!” she called out over her shoulder, before swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind her. in a final act of defiance, she flicked off the exterior lights, leaving rafe standing in the darkness of the driveway.

rafe ran a hand down his face, stifling a groan as he glanced down, noticing his helmet conveniently hiding the growing bulge in his slacks.

he needed to hurry—taking down little miss kook princess was becoming more urgent than ever.

part two coming soon — comment to be in included in the taglist!

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yuqiyu · 2 years ago

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Guitar Lessons (Eddie Munson x F!Reader)

♡ part 2

Summary: During one of your hangouts at Eddie's trailer, he offers to give you some guitar lessons.

Word Count: 6.6k

Tags: NSFW, sexual content, cunnilingus, face riding, making out, eating out, fluff, friends to lovers (kinda), slight angst, dramatic reader, no use of y/n

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“How long have you played?” you ask as you graze your fingers over the body of the guitar. It’s smooth and cold, the design fitting right in with Eddie’s aesthetic.

He’s looking at you cutely, leaning back on his forearms against the bed. There’s a sparkle in his doe eyes as he shifts a bit.

“So I see you’ve met the lady of the house,” he says, a slight lilt to his voice. “Go on, take her down.”

As you carefully step over a messy pile of cassette tapes beside another pile of clothes, Eddie makes a grabbing motion and mumbles a That’s right, come to papa. You stifle a laugh, releasing a snort in the process. He shoots a look at you, fully defensive.

Once the guitar (or the love of his life, as he’d say) is in his hands, it fits perfectly like a puzzle piece on his body. His neck is slightly craned over it. You think he’s looking at the strings, but as you move closer, his eyes are closed.

He starts plucking out a couple chords, a sweet melody completely contradicting the visuals you are being fed. You begin to close your eyes as well, allowing the music to flow through the both of you. It sounds beautiful despite not being hooked up to an amp.

It has been only a couple of months since you first met Eddie in the hallway between classes. You recall a head full of messy curls hanging over what you thought were interesting choices in an outfit. Girls were avoiding him left and right as he picked up the remnants of his stuff off the ground after a couple jocks had so kindly knocked them out of his hands.

When you had picked up a notebook that had fallen behind him, a few loose papers with unfamiliar charts and symbols fell out. You plucked them up for a closer study.

“Just getting ready for the Satanic rituals this Thursday,” he mused. You looked up in surprise.

He was a very pretty man, his hair framing his slim face surprisingly well. His large eyes bore into you, and you swore you could get lost in the dark abyss behind them.

“What?”

“Sorry, bad joke.” He looked at you sheepishly, then to the notebook in your hands.

“Right, sorry.” Even after you quickly handed it back to him, he continued staring at you, amused.

“Are you new?”

You shuffled your feet, feeling even more awkward than you already were.

“Yeah.” And the rest was history.

You open your eyes when the music stops. Eddie is staring at you with a crooked grin, inches away from your face.

“Jeez, you’re so creepy,” you laugh as you push him off. Ever the drama queen he is, he falls backward onto the bed limply, the guitar following suit. His hands are clutched over his heart as his face fakes a wounded expression.

“I just gave you the best serenade you will ever hear in your life, and this is how you repay me?” He all but shrieks at you as you continue slapping at his arm.

“ Ever? That’s such a loaded statement, Eddie. You haven’t even answered my question.”

He jumps back up, then pauses for a beat. “I don’t know, my whole life I guess,” he shrugs.

You stare back at the guitar, still being held snugly in his arms. There was no way to stop the idea of you being there instead, but you shake yourself out of it.

“That’s pretty cool, though. I don’t know how to play any instruments.” You copy his pose from earlier, supporting yourself up by your forearms. He twists his neck towards you, that beautiful damn smile beaming a hundred miles per hour your way.

“Really,” he questions, dragging out the word playfully. “How about I, the greatest guitarist ever, teach you some new things.”

“Again, such a loaded statement, but okay. Hit me.”

The next hour or so is not exactly what you were expecting. He has an old acoustic guitar hiding somewhere in his closet (which he searches for with difficulty, under more piles of items) and has you test the waters on it. With the pleasant surprise of Eddie literally wrapping your back with his arms, moving your fingers to the right formations, you are basically floating on cloud nine.

He is a demonstrations type of guy, not an I-will-show-you-first-then-you-play kind of way, but in an I-will-wrap-my-gorgeous-hands-around-yours kind of way. This shouldn’t have shocked you, ever since he cupped his hands over yours just to help you roll some dice when you hesitated during a campaign, at least. You often took sneaky glances at his fingers after that day, how could you help it? The day he finds out about your secret hand fetish will be the day you change your identity, because not only would it feed his already inflated ego, he would never let you live it down. He already has so much ammo against you, and you dread that only one more will put you six feet under.

Eddie was exceedingly patient with you in teaching the strings and the chords, even though you had trouble memorizing where to place your fingers. You wish you could say the same about previous teachers, who were truly wicked demons compared to him.

You let yourself falter and lean backwards, just enough for Eddie to notice. He suddenly peels your fingers off the instrument and gives little kisses to them.

You yank your hand back in surprise and squeak out, “Eddie!”

His stupid antics always make it hard for you not to fall for him. It sometimes feels like he does it on purpose, like he means to fuel your feelings even more.

“Just thought they needed some healing kissies ,” he replies, his pitch increasing at the end to mock you.

“Kissies are only for couples,” you snapped, unable to process anything but the imprint of his soft lips on your hands. You hope you don’t look as dazed as you feel right now.

He simply ignores you and strokes the neck of the guitar, still wrapped comfortably around you. “You’re a natural at this, y’know? Maybe you should get some real lessons.”

“Yeah, right. It sure doesn’t feel like it.” You give your hands a good shake, loosening all the muscles as you sighed in relief. Dark, red lines were etched deep into your fingertips. Looking at them only made the pain feel even more real.

He grabs them again, gripping them tightly. “Hey—hey, careful! These hands have unknown potential! You could be a god with these.”

“‘Thought you said you were the best out there,” you smile, nudging him in the ribs. He feigns offense.

“I am, but if there’s gonna be someone better out there, I’d rather it be you!”

You can only roll your eyes at him as he drops his chin on your shoulder. He must be bored out of his mind right now, so you push for a new topic.

“Why are you being so touchy today,” you tease, turning to look at his face. It is much easier now to admire his features now that he is sitting so close to you. His eyes are glazed over. “Wait a minute—were you high this whole time?”

He gives you a guilty look.

You aren’t sure if you should be impressed that he was able to teach you so well under the influence, or if you should be disappointed. His affections to you often occurred under one and only one circumstance, and that was when he was ridiculously high. He must’ve smoked more than usual. The thought hits you like a crushing weight, smashing through your heart and sinking down to your stomach in just under five seconds. You want to throw your head into your palms and cringe at how hopeful you were, even though you’re already used to the reality of this godforsaken friendship. But then the sinking feeling falls even deeper into your pit when you realized something might’ve happened to make him reach for his stash like this.

“Did something happen today?” You don’t mean to probe, but even stoner Eddie has his limits for most of the time. Sometimes the overcompensation is a little too obvious, even for your obliviousness.

His head is still lolling on your shoulder, though this time there’s a faraway look in his eyes. There’s a silence that hangs thick for what felt like forever, until you feel his chin shift, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sulk in.

“Don’t tell me it’s girl troubles,” you huff out. The thought of it already has the heat rising to your cheeks. It’s one thing to have an unrequited crush, but to see said crush pining for another person was simply soul-crushing.

He must notice your expression, because he looks at you amusingly. “Why? Would you be jealous?”

When you shoot him a deadly look, he only giggles and reassures you. You’ve heard this speech about a million times already: you’re his best girl-friend and no one can ever beat you. To be honest, it’s hard to be beat when you’re his only girl-friend, but hey, it’s still a win. If he has to constantly remind you, though, maybe you’re being too obvious. You remind yourself to tone it down around him.

Eddie suddenly jumps off the bed with renewed vigor and swipes the guitar from your arms before laying it carefully somewhere in the closet, then plops back down beside you. His face is serious, the playful energy lasting only for a few seconds.

You ease yourself down slowly, lying on your side as you soak in the sight before you. His arms are tucked under his head, ankles crossed at the edge of the bed.

“I only ask because I—”

“ Because you care. I know.”

You give him a minute. There are only the sounds of your breaths mingling with each other, and if you relaxed enough, you swear you’d be able to hear his heartbeat. You’d usually miss the peace you had prior to meeting Eddie, but now, when there is no sound of his annoying voice or music or anything , it makes you nervous. Because a vulnerable Eddie is a sad Eddie. There was no easy way to learn this.

“I heard you went on a date with Harrington,” he starts. His hands fly in the air as he continues. You can’t help but stare at the glint his rings give off in the different angles. “Went to the mall and everything.”

It’s your turn to look amused. When he catches it, he presses a finger to your lips, which only causes you to snicker. “How could you ignore me for some jock. Is that why you didn’t pick up my calls that day?” He has such an intense expression, backed up by the furrowing of his brows now hiding under his bangs. He seems so distressed, although you can’t help but smile at him in silence.

“Is that all you have to say to me?” He’s practically begging for response at this point.

“First of all, Munson,” you emphasize as he winces at the demotion of his name. It was easy to tell when you don’t feel like humoring him. Ever since the beginning, it had always been Eddie . When you had tried calling him anything else, it just didn’t feel right in those moments. And it still doesn’t. “It wasn’t a date. It was a double date!”

His jaw drops as he rubs a hand over his face, having expected you to at least try to comfort him, like you usually would. It was shameful, honestly, the way you would scramble to mend his sorrow every single time. You pause for a second, letting the moment really sink in before continuing again. This is payback , you thought. “It was Nancy, Steve, Robin, and me. It wasn’t really a date, Eddie. I don’t know why you’d even care.”

There’s a slight quiver in your voice when you articulate the last line, but you hope he doesn’t notice. However, it seems like that’s the only thing he noticed.

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, missy, but I care a whole lot when my only friend in the whole wide world goes missing when I need her most.” The glazed look in his eyes hasn’t faded, but the seriousness is still there. You almost wish you aren’t still having this conversation because it only breaks your heart further the more he opens his goddamn mouth about friendship this, friendship that. But your love and concern for him overshadows it all, and you want to smack yourself over the head for that.

You take a deep breath, inhaling all the different scents of Eddie (if that was even humanly possible) and ponder your thoughts. You like to do it because It keeps him on his toes, you remember, as if he’s always hanging onto your every word, inching closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.

You allow your eyes to wander across his walls, taking in the various band posters, and then back onto the guitar. It’s so easy to get sidetracked in the confines of anything related to him, but the more you learn about him, the more you realize he’s just a huge dork who plays fantasy games and the guitar in his free time. He does a great job at keeping the air of mystery around him, though, and you wonder if people actually realized who he truly was, maybe they’d bully him a tiny bit less. That is, if they weren’t so scared of being sacrificed by him. He shakes you out of your conscious slumber with a couple snaps of his fingers in front of your face.

“Hey—are you even listening to me?”

His hand continues waving in your face for a few more seconds before you swat it away. You’re looking at him with as much sincerity as you could possibly muster. He’s doing the same, though you notice the way the corners of his mouth tug down, like how they usually do whenever you reject one of his hugs.

“Can I level with you?” you ask.

He looks at you strangely, eyebrows raise in question. There’s some clarity to his eyes now, and you feel yourself getting sucked in temporarily. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps thickly. He nods.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about your love life and who you choose to date, so why should you? ” The words come out with more venom than you mean to, but you couldn’t—no, wouldn’t , take back what you said. Even though you’re lying, it feels good knowing that he at least doesn’t know you have a massive one-sided crush on him. It gives the illusion that you’re in control, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Eddie’s features soften. He looks so hurt, and you can’t bear to look at him for more than two seconds. The room is silent again, though it’s lacking the comfort that usually comes with it. You slowly sit up, and start grabbing your things. Before you leave, he pulls your wrist back. His eyes are pleading.

“It’s still early,” he begins. “If you want to stay longer.” You look sparingly at his face, mostly darting to his bedsheets or the walls. His grip tightens.

“I—um, I’ve got some overdue homework I need to work on.”

He knows you well enough to know that if there was one person he knew that always had their shit together and done on time, it was you. But he lets go, and your heart stumbles because if he had asked you one more time, you would’ve stayed. You guess some things are just not written in the stars, and tonight was one of those things.

He only purses his lips and exhales, “Alright.”

He doesn’t walk you out the door today.

The next time you see him ends up being the following night. He had called the morning of, asking if you wanted to come over for more “guitar lessons.” When you didn’t reply quickly enough for his liking, he simply said, “See you at eight. Sharp, okay, sweetheart?”

Your heart twinges, so you agree.

Eight sneaks up on you before you know it. The night air engulfs you as you rap your knuckles against the Munsons’ trailer door. It rattles violently, so you stop, fearing that one more would completely knock it off the hinges. You hear a familiar voice ring out, welcoming you in.

When you’re inside, you spot Eddie running around chaotically in the small kitchen. Various snacks are being crushed by his arms clutching them close to his chest, and he nearly slams into a table (not without cursing) while tossing them over onto the couch.

He finally sits down among the mess, accidentally on a bag of chips, and it crunches. He makes a butt-shaped hole with the snacks next to himself, then affectionately pats the area and looks at you.

You scooch around and pop open a bag of gummy bears. “We’re starting the movie early today, huh?”

“You gotta return it tomorrow. We can’t have any more distractions now, can we?” He fiddles with the remote, pressing buttons here and there. There’s only static on the TV. He groans and gives it a good few smacks.

“Wow,” you drawl. “Eddie Munson himself, actually remembering due dates, and not even his responsibility? That’s new.” He turns around to retaliate, but is hit by a gummy bear straight to the face. “Bullseye,” you laugh.

He only sighs and walks towards the kitchen. His hand squeezes your thigh on the way and, with an exasperated voice, says, “Be good ‘til I get back.”

The movie ends without another hitch, and it’s not long after that both of you are back in his bedroom.

“So,” he says as he claps his hands together dramatically. “It’s time for lessons by Mr. Munson himself.” He picks up the acoustic guitar and seats himself down next to you on the bed. “Wanna show me what you’ve learned so far?”

“To be honest, not much. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Munson,” you shrug, taking over and strumming out a few test chords. He wets his lips absentmindedly.

“Well, you seem to remember the C chord, at least,” he nods. “But—” He cups your fingers and shifts them downward. “You’re a bit too high there, sweetheart.”

The touch burns through your skin and sets your mind, body, and heart aflame. It takes you a second to answer. A second too long, is what Eddie thinks.

“Okay…what about my G?” you ask quietly, not trusting yourself to breathe.

“Your G what? G-string or G chord?”

You blink.

He winks.

And your body is at war. The rope inside you tugs between choosing violence or letting yourself melt in his arms. It’s close to betraying you, until you choose fight-or-flight’s third sibling: freeze.

Eddie cackles as he shakes you awake. You feel your consciousness slam back into your body with full force. Your mind is going insane. What did he mean? Does he want to do something? Does he want me ? You’re about to open your mouth, to say Yes! Yes, Eddie, I want you!

“Bad joke. Sorry.”

You wish the moon would become unlatched from whatever science-y, physics-y thing that’s keeping it in orbit and hurl towards Earth and just crush you to death right then and there. How does one recover from this?

Except you do. He spends the next thirty minutes teaching you an easy song that includes the whopping four chords you’ve learned. It goes as smoothly as you hope, until the heat radiating off of Eddie and wafting onto your back is making you uncomfortably sticky.

When you had left the house earlier, you wore tank top with a denim jacket to cover your arms. It wasn’t your best look, but you weren’t trying to impress anyone (more of a self-persuasion, but who’s really checking?). The decision feels like a huge mistake now, because you are definitely not comfortable enough at the moment to let him see your skin like that.

Each touch, each movement, and each breath of Eddie’s fanning over your neck so deliciously gives you more and more confidence as the night moves on. He’s pressing all the right buttons, as if knowingly, and your barrier begins to crack.

You carry on with full composure, as you always have . He gives you a simple task: play at least halfway into the song perfectly. When you do, he leans in, lips slightly brushing your earlobe, and whispers, “Good girl.”

Your face begins to heat up at a rapid rate. Your body, on the other hand, isn’t sure whether it should tense up or relax. Eddie notices and places his hands on your shoulders, giving you quick squeezes sympathetically. It only makes it worse.

Not sure how you did it, but you were able to get the guitar safely on the bed before jumping off of it entirely.

“Wow,” he exhales and simpers. “I just wanted to see if you had a praise kink or so—”

He’s cut short by your glossy eyes and trembling lips. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out, so he waves his hands uselessly.

“What, so I’m just a joke to you?” Your voice betrays you, as much as you attempt to conceal your vulnerability. It sports a matching look on your face. This is it , you think. You lasted only a couple of months after making your first friend at this stupid school, and thinking about it makes you feel ashamed. Somehow, this feels worse than a real break-up.

“I’m—Hey, look at me, please. I’m so sorry.” He’s scrambling to fix his mistake, hands all over you, and eyes frantically searching you for a hint of forgiveness, even if he knows it’s futile.

“Eddie, I need to go. It’s fi—”

“No!” he cries, causing you to flinch. His grip softens on your shoulders, but is still unwaveringly attached. “It’s not fine.”

Even through the thick material of your jacket, the knowledge that he’s still touching you has you squirming painfully. “God, please , stop touching me.”

Now, Eddie’s heart is breaking into a million pieces, and you know it well. Since the first day you met him, you could tell what his love language was. From the way he’d ruffle your hair affectionately after a campaign win, or how he’d pull you into a bone-smashing hug whenever you brought his favorite snack to school, to simply the way his eyes would twinkle right before giving you a first bump every time you parted ways. In a sense, this was a real break-up to him.

His arm slowly slides off of you, with a pained look on his face. He then stares at you expectantly. When you make a move to the side, he reaches out towards you, though not close enough to touch.

“Please don’t go yet. Just—” He closes his eyes and groans against his palms, and you’re sober enough to know it’s not directed at you. If you hadn't felt so terrible, you’d laugh at the way he was repenting. You stare slack-faced at him, and while it’s not the reaction he was hoping for, he takes it as a second chance. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Like how you don’t know why you said, ‘g-string’ or why you just messed with me all night?” you nearly shouted. It takes a lot of energy to force the sass through your pain, but it shows enough to cause Eddie to shrink within himself. You can’t even feel bad anymore. Maybe this was an overreaction on your part. He’s always been like this, so what is different now? In a way, there is still a part of you that actually does feel bad, but only because you let yourself waste away in your feelings without ever bringing it up to him. There is no way for him to really know how you feel about him without communicating it. Even then, normal friendships aren’t like this. Friends don’t whisper dirty things into each other’s ears. Friends don’t playfully flirt with real sexual tension. So it’s not fair that you have to endure this while he’s the only one having fun.

Eddie, on the other hand, wants to stuff his mouth with his fist. He wants to pull his hair out, he wants to scream into his pillow, but most of all, he wants to hold you and apologize over and over until he’s completely lost his voice. For you, he would grovel as much as you want him to, and to him, that would be nothing if it meant you’d take him back.

His voice cracks when he manages to find the courage to speak again. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with my behavior.” He looks at you intently, eyes roaming your face, searching— begging .

You look away, and it scares him. He’s never seen you cry like this, and it’s even worse since he’s the reason why. His arms twitch, and he realizes that that was the last time he’ll ever be that close to you again.

After a million years (according to Eddie), you sigh, “That’s not the issue.” There’s a fierceness to you now, surprising the both of you. You jab a finger at his chest viciously. “My issue with you is that you keep taking my feelings lightly.” His brows furrow, and it only pisses you off even more.

“I like you, you asshole!” There was no point of return. All of that was out the window the moment he crossed a line. Instead of feeling scared or sad, like you thought you would, you were instead enraged with an addicting fury. “And you .” You make a point to jab him especially hard for emphasis. “You have the nerve to mess with me all night long—not to mention even whining about how I should spend every waking moment with you when I already do…and you know what the kicker in all of this was? I did wish I was at the mall with you! I did wish I was on a date with you!”

His forehead is creasing, eyes wide, and mouth pursing. When it finally opens, he breathes out an Oh. And he suddenly he knows how to make things right.

In your complete, utter mess of a breakdown, you don’t realize that you had balled your hands tightly into a fist until you let go, and the searing pain from your nails digging into your palms lets up.

Maybe you were okay with destroying this friendship before, you try to convince yourself, but the regret starts pooling into your belly along with nausea. You’re too ashamed to look at him, yet you also don’t have the courage to move from your spot. So once again, the room is just filled with the sounds of labored breathing and bated breath, both standing in a face-off.

And then you will your legs to move, to run far, far away. But Eddie catches you first, and his face is sloppily smashed against yours as he pulls your lips into his own. Certainly, this is bold, the boldest thing he’s ever done, he’d argue. Still, he’s unable to withdraw because once he has you—your scent, your soft skin, and your gasps keeps him wanting more and more.

It only ends when both of you come up for air, foreheads still glued together as you laugh mirthlessly. “This whole time?” you murmured.

You can feel the smug grin on his lips as he attacks the junction of your neck. You melt against him. “Yeah.” He continues down to your shoulder after pulling your jacket off, his mouth never leaving you. “So, was I right?”

“Hmm?” You couldn’t trust yourself to speak anymore. Somehow, Eddie has gotten you back to his bed, and you feel his necklace glide across your chest coldly, sending little shivers along your spine.

��‘Bout you having a praise kink,” he mumbles. He’s taking his time on a particular spot near your collarbone, making sure to really mark you well.

You’re too embarrassed to reply, so you hope he moves on from it. He doesn’t—worse, he stops. He’s holding himself up with his arms, caging you in, and looks at you mischievously. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. Don’t go shy on me now. ”

You reach up to press a kiss against him, but he easily flicks you back down like a fly. His brow arches, though he’s still grinning arrogantly.

“Fine, yes, yes, yes, I do.”

“That’s my girl.”

You moan into him when he’s back on your mouth, tongues slow dancing. You still feel hot, but it’s different this time around. It’s more freeing—like you’ve let something go, and now you’re finally able to enjoy it.

Eddie is a much better kisser than you imagined. You’ve thought about how he’d taste and how it’d go, oh absolutely, but this is real . You memorize the way his tongue darts around as if mapping out every part of you, mixed in with the faint smell of cigarettes and pure testosterone.

He’s gripping your chest as he makes his way down and massages it to Hell and back. You can’t help but love how primal you’ve got him, which only turns you on even more.

“I’ve wanted to do many…many… many, ” he accents each word with a wet kiss down your arms. “...unholy things to you since I laid my eyes on you.”

You strip off your top and bra, tossing them to the side with urgency. He only chuckles at your brazenness before giving both of your breasts a firm squeeze. You push him onto the bed and straddle him. “C’mon, Eddie, your turn.” He looks at you incredulously, then his stare turns dark after a blink of an eye. His hands run up and down the sides of your waist, leaving little goosebumps in their wake.

“My, my, who knew you were so forward? All of that innocence…just an act.” He reaches out and captures your chin, firmly holding on as he angles your face around. The cold air drifts against your chest, causing your nipples to perk up. You release a shaky breath and close your eyes, suddenly feeling timid. “No, no, open them for me, sweetheart.”

When you do, you feel him twitch under you, provoking you to ground back down on him. Your eyes are half-lidded, hips rolling. A guttural groan expels from his throat, and he grips you to a standstill.

“Get—ugh, take it off already!” you whine, clawing at his t-shirt.

He’s looking at you with so much lust, yet it’s filled with tenderness; his hands rubbing circles into your own only reaffirming that. After a moment of silence (in which Eddie is aggressively admiring your beauty), he licks his lips and speaks.

“I want you to know that if we continue, this won’t be the last time. There will never— ever be ‘going back to being friends’ or ‘acting normal.’ Because to be frank with you, princess, I can’t do that.” His eyes take in your silhouette, wandering slowly and deeply, because he’s so afraid. So afraid that this will be the last time you let him see you again. He wants to memorize as much of you as possible in case it gets taken away. He takes a deep breath. “So, if we do this. I want more of you—not just the sex, but I want to take you out. And… I won’t do this if you don’t want that. I don’t want this to be a one-and-done deal. Got it?”

You’re unsure whether it’s the adrenaline running through your veins or the sexual tension you feel for him snapping, but you run your hands under his shirt and over his bare chest. For whatever reason, his thoughtfulness turns you on even more than you thought you could be. You ache for his touch, and the desire builds into a searing pain. He wants to stop you, but he can’t; you’re too mesmerizing.

“Eddie,” you moan out. He whimpers under your touch, and he bucks up into you. The muscles in his hand flex against your hip, fighting against his vices. Who knew having a pretty girl on top of him would have him become such a mess?

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out. “You’re not helping me here. I need you to tell me you—” He flips you under him, knee wedged conveniently between your legs, pushing barely enough against your core. He’s frustrated in more ways than one. His eyes implore of you, with the addition of his voice being much deeper. He lets you rub against his thigh for a moment before pulling back. He pins your hands above your head and hovers closely over you just enough for you to hear his harsh whisper. “Now, now, you’re not being very good, are you? Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you beg.

“Understand what?”

“Fuck, Eddie, I want you to be mine. My boyfriend, my heart, my soul, and—” You slide your fingers down his body. “Your cock .”

“Shit,” he grins cheekily. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” He moves to unbutton your jeans as his tongue sticks out in concentration. You don’t understand how he could still be so cute during an activity as sinful as this. Once the garment is off your legs, you return the favor, nearly ripping his shirt off his back.

He quickly pulls you back onto his lap. You continue running your hands down his chest as one of his fingers hook into the hem of your underwear, rubbing the skin of your hips with the pads of his fingers. His other hand swipes teasingly down your cunt through the fabric, causing the thick wet line to fully soak your panties immediately upon contact. You rut against him, despising the barrier that is his jeans. You need to feel him now .

“Patience, sweetheart,” he says hoarsely, right before pulling your underwear off completely. “There’s something I wanna try first.” He pulls your hips up to his face roughly, and your hands land on the wall above him for support. You giggle.

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to put on the reigns.” Your heat is right above his mouth; you can feel his hot breath fluttering across, making you drip even more. His soft lips target your core, making sure to run his tongue over your clit from time to time. In the meantime, his hands continue roaming your body, starting from the bend in your knees to your quite indulgent thighs, all the way up to your chest. As you’re stuck in his maze of pleasure, he catches you off guard and pulls on your nipple. You yelp in surprise and arousal, the electricity of it aiding you in the roll of your hips against his face. He smiles against you, easily lapping up any juices that come out.

It causes you to release your most lewd sound of the night so far, and this man is soaking it all up. He loves that he’s the one to make you feel this way and no one else.

“Bet Harrington couldn’t make you moan like that for him.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up, I wouldn’t have even let him.”

“Careful with those eyes, I don’t want them rolling to the back of your head unless you’re bouncing on my cock.” He continues suckling at your clit and your eyes squeeze shut, enjoying the sensation. You’ve played with yourself before, but it was never like this. You could only get so far with just your fingers rubbing idly as your mind sneaks off somewhere else. Just the way his tongue moves around you so languidly has you close to your climax already.

He abruptly palms both your ass cheeks and pushes you deeper down into his face, to the point where you’re terrified you’re going to smother him—but he keeps it there, firm and steady, and darts his tongue in deep .

Now, you’ve seen this man’s tongue countless times before. Whenever pure concentration is necessary, that one time he provoked Jason Carver in the cafeteria, and the many periods of time when he merely wanted to make funny faces at you to cheer you up, like a child. Have you thought about what they’d feel in your mouth and inside of you? Naturally. But what you failed to understand was the sheer strength and length of each thrust. When you look down at him, you expect to see multiple appendages because there is no way he could work on so much of you all at once. Oh, it is so much better than you thought.

The thin sheen of sweat on his skin has his bangs sticking to his forehead. The rest of his hair falls nicely around him, like a halo under your thighs. The tip of his nose is bumping wonderfully against your button, bringing you closer and closer to your release. He’s looking straight at you, cheeks slightly hollowed out from the sucking motion. He squeezes your ass and gives a single slap. Your arms fall from the wall and land on the sheets next to him. Unable to hold back any longer, you start tweaking at your nipples. The sight has Eddie groaning into you, sending heavy vibrations straight to your folds.

“ Fuck , Eddie.” You want to scream, but you’re afraid that the neighbors might hear. You stifle a few more moans to the depths of your soul, until you feel your climax inching towards you. He answers incoherently into your pussy, but you know what he wants. His hands grip you tighter, helping you grind against his face. With one more hard suck around your nub, your orgasm comes crashing down on you. Your center pulses with each high, and you swear you’re seeing stars. You topple over, body limp beside Eddie as he licks his lips. His face is drenched with your cum.

“Was it that good, princess? I didn’t even get to finger you yet.” He waves his fingers humorously in front of your face. He’s leaning on one arm, admiring the work he’s made of you. Your chest is still heaving from the intensity, and you fan yourself.

“God, yes, it was so—I don’t even—have you done this before?”

“Oh, but of course,” he replies without missing a beat. You looked at him in surprise, then at the mess he made out of you. “What, do I seem like a virgin?” Your eyes are half-lidded, and you feel the embrace of sleep coming over you, but you’re able to muster out a yes and a few chortles for good measure.

Eddie had gotten up in the meantime and wiped his face with a towel, then used another to wipe you down. You croak out a “ Thanks” as he places a kiss on your forehead. He’s about to pull his covers over you, but you grab his hand with a frightful ferocity, alarming the poor man before you. He looks at you in question.

You fight the sleep in your eyes, and yank on his belt loop. He falls over you, quickly catching himself with an arm next to your head. He chuckles. “What is it, sweetheart? Haven’t had enough?”

You palm him over the jeans, and he hisses, but keeps steady. It was the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever experienced in your life, and as a result, your body’s energy levels are depleted. You feel guilty, wanting to return the favor, especially since he still has a hard-on, but it was getting more difficult each second that passes by. He notices and moves to the side of the bed.

“Maybe next time,” he says.

“Next time,” you whisper.

And the world fades to black.

#stranger things smut #stranger things #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #smut #eddie munson

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musclefantasytf · 11 months ago

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mysterious package

Luke had always been a scrawny, bookish guy. He spent most of his time studying and working on his computer, rarely ever leaving his house except for school and occasional trips to the library. So when he received a mysterious package with his name on it, he was both confused and intrigued. He had no idea who could have sent him something, but he felt a thrill of excitement as he tore open the package.

Inside was a jockstrap with a note attached that simply said, 'Enjoy the trip.' Luke furrowed his brow in confusion. What trip? He wasn't going on any trips anytime soon. And what did this jockstrap have to do with it? He shrugged and tossed the box onto his bed, planning to deal with it later. But as he continued working on his computer, he couldn't help but be drawn to the mysterious item. With a shrug, he grabbed it from his bed and headed to his bathroom to see what it looked like on him.

As he pulled on the jockstrap, he couldn't help but notice how it hugged his body perfectly, enhancing his slim frame and making him feel surprisingly confident. He checked himself out in the mirror, posing seriously as if he had large muscles. He couldn't help but feel a little silly, but also a little envious of the image staring back at him.

But just as he was about to take off the jockstrap and toss it back onto his bed, he felt a sudden pressure building inside his body. He looked down in surprise as he watched his dick grow in size and thickness. Not only that, but his balls were expanding as well, almost the size of oranges. He couldn't believe his eyes as his body began to change and grow in front of the mirror.

His muscles began to bulge and swell, slowly at first but then picking up pace. He watched in awe as a sexy layer of hair began to appear on his chest, making a happy trail that led down towards his now impressive package. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he couldn't deny the surge of pleasure and power he felt coursing through his body.

As his balls continued to grow, releasing more and more testosterone, Luke couldn't resist the urge to run his hands all over his new, manly body. He felt like a new person, full of raw masculinity and vigor. He couldn't control his urges as he grabbed his thick dick and began to stroke himself, feeling like he was on top of the world.

And just like that, he exploded with a force he had never experienced before. Thick ropes of cum covered his body and splattered across the bathroom walls and floor. He couldn't help but let out a deep, primal roar as he reveled in his newfound masculinity and sexual prowess.

As he caught his breath and looked around the now messy bathroom, Luke couldn't believe what had just happened. But he knew one thing for sure, he was no longer the scrawny, bookish guy he used to be. He was now a confident, strong man with a wild side he couldn't wait to explore. And he had a feeling this mysterious jockstrap it was the trip that the note said.

#gettinghairy #muscle transformation #muscle growth tf #male transformation #transformation

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knnichs · 5 months ago

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if you could be mine, if we could be us

— wherein he realizes that he's fallen in love with you.

c. akira, akechi, ryuji, yusuke

t. fluff, gn!reader, reader is a member of the phantom thieves and is a persona user, joker & akira have incredibly opposite personalities (tad bit exaggerated), kamoshida & madarame mention (sorry), yusuke forgives madarame, minor spoilers for akechi & yusuke, no/very little dialogue, wc: 1.5k

The mementos may not be the best time to think about it, but Akira can’t help but blush. He finally noticed that he has feelings for his best friend.

After hearing the rest of the group tease him about having a soft spot for you—you would expect the leader of the Phantom Thieves to be a little smart, but he’s surprisingly unfazed that they realized it before he did.

Recently, you saw how Joker had been more of a show-off during battle. With flashy moves and unnecessary very cliche lines when interrogating a shadow, (which you are very sure he practiced in front of the bathroom mirror in Leblanc) all while having the energy to have a signature finishing move when defeating an opponent. He becomes more chatty, more confident—more cocky. You love seeing Joker enjoying his time, but in all honesty it’s a bit unsettling. The usually quiet-but-snarky leader is suddenly talkative. What happened?

As a joke, you confronted him about it in a teasing manner. “Joker, somethin’ good happen?” You would say. All you will get is a smile as he waves off the question, “Nothing specific happened.”

Unfortunately, as soon as you return to reality, he will continue back to his usual self. It’s as if a shift happened to his entire personality as soon as he had the mask on. The truth is, being in the metaverse does somewhat help with how he is feeling. It gives him the confidence boost he needs to be just the tiniest bit more like a guy you could only read in books. He still acts like a proper gentleman, even in reality, but his metaverse self—Joker, is exactly the kind of person who would unironically steal your heart. Being on television and having fangirls of his own, you would at least expect him to take advantage of his charm just to impress you, no?

Akechi isn’t surprised. Not the slightest bit.

You were always willing to help him with academics—despite him already being smart to handle his studies and detective work. You say it’s so that he doesn’t go home so tired all the time. Each time he smiles and refuses your offer, saying he’s able to perfectly balance his work life with his school curriculars. Though this does lead to him being over exhausted one too many times.

You end up visiting Akechi in his apartment when you find the time, inviting him to a night out to destress. There is a slim chance you will find him in a vulnerable state; Drowsy and tired, heavy eyebags from another night of staying up. Maybe he hasn’t slept at all and has to decline your offer to take time to rest. Sometimes he is in a good mood, having free time after accomplishing another case and telling you about it as he invites you to his room. Other times he is incredibly busy, schedule packed with deadlines racking up. He’s exhausted and doesn’t have enough social battery to hang out with someone for the whole day, and you completely understand that. Being a student, a detective, and a celebrity all at once is overwhelming.

You do your best to show that you care about him with those little gestures. Copying notes he might’ve missed, saving presentations, and making reviewers for him to easily study when finals are near. He’s incredibly thankful for that, and in turn, he shows that he notices those gestures of yours by doing the same thing to you. He’s never had anyone that cared about him this much, and that alone is enough reason for him to slowly fall in love with you. Akechi would pick up little details and your small quirks and keep them in mind—your go-to drink, favorite restaurant, how you act when you’re especially stressed, he takes lots of mental notes on your behavior so he is well prepared to handle your little emotional outbursts.

He finds it easy to charm people with his looks and very outgoing personality, he has used this to try and woo you to like him—maybe your actions towards him had some sort of meaning and that you liked him. Unfortunately, it completely backfired. He ended up catching feelings for you in the process as soon as he saw you as someone who liked him for who he was. For some odd reason, this detective is not exactly good with love.

Ryuji gets nervous around you. Sweaty palms and stuttering sentences—you have this effect on him and he can’t break out of it.

You outshone the sun with your presence alone. He is very much so affected by it, Ryuji has never noticed this before with anyone else he’s been with. You were kind, compassionate, you loved helping people around you. Seeing how you were as eager to take Kamoshida down with him—with the rest of the Thieves—made him think that the two of you were on the same page when it came to thinking.

Ryuji is… Not the best person to rely on for academics, but he surely makes up for it with other things. With his (pretty much) outgoing personality, he does find it easier to invite you out to little “friendly” dates, he’d say. Having Ryuji as your food buddy is a good experience, and having him as a friend is an even better one. When you’re in an especially rough slump, he’s willing to be there by your side as a personal hype man. He would say he delivers the best pep talks and speeches, putting corny jokes into them to lighten the mood, and it’s safe to say that you laugh easier with him too.

He’s good at cheering you up, he doesn’t like seeing you in a tough spot. He loves your company too—so to see or even hear that anything bad happened to you is a no-go for him. It takes a while for it to register that he started having feelings for you, he’s pretty oblivious, even to himself. So you may need to initiate the first move at times. Once it’s hit him, he’ll be a little bit more extra clingy, but a little distant at the same time. He’s a bit overwhelmed with the butterflies you give him, but give it time and he’ll do his best to make a move on you too.

Yusuke wonders if you’re sick of him yet.

He’s constantly asking you to model for his paintings, constantly bugging you to go with him to visit parks and shrines. Museum trips are definitely a must when you meet with him, and you most likely have to pay for the entrance fee as well. And the food, and the little souvenirs they have. (Well, the souvenirs were your choice. You thought he would appreciate the gift.) With him being short on money because of his passion, he understands if you ever stop wanting to respond to his messages. Surprisingly, you do not. You plan some of those hangouts yourself—and Yusuke is, well… Touched, you could say.

He shows his appreciation by being a little more open with you, trusting you with more of his feelings; ranting to you about certain missions you did in the mementos or how Joker is a bad driver, maybe how his art block is eating him alive and it's frustrating how he can’t find the proper inspiration. One topic about Madarame, how he still found the will to forgive him even after all he did to him and his mother. You listened, of course, and you’re glad he openly trusts you with these kinds of things.

Another way he shows that he is appreciative of what you do is with gifts. Traditional boxes of chocolates or handmade letters (made to look like calling cards) for holiday greetings, portraits of you, sketches of you, doodles of you… Suddenly everything about his life has been about you. He doesn’t dare show his sketchbook to everyone, god forbid. But you do notice him excessively asking you to pose in front of a gorgeous scenery in the park as he scribbles on a notepad. Weeks later, you never really see him make a painting of it despite saying so. He says it’s only to gain motivation, or to get himself warmed up to draw again—but truth be told; You just looked as gorgeous as the flowers that bloom in the bushes behind you, the clear, blue lake, and the sunny weather itself. Everything started to remind him of you, and he can’t help but pull up his contacts on his phone and call you again to have an “inspiration” walk.

this was absolutely adorable to write. can you tell who my favorite character is sob... anyway! this is my official debut to being a persona author too,, erm requests are open heart for persona 5! maybe not 3 yet. because i am in the very early stages.. ignore how i tagged this like an ao3 fi

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darkbluekies · 1 year ago

Note

ooohoooh do a oneshot jerry x sensitive male reader, plot depends on you

Uncanny connection

Mafia!female!yandere x male!reader

Summary: going out for ice cream with Jerry ends in one of the most grotesque scenes you've been in

Warnings: gore, torture, knocking someone unconscious

Word count: 3k

A/N: I don't know how "sensitive" the reader got because i think he got pretty tough, but I hope it's enjoyable anyway♡

"Do you know what I'm craving?" Jerry asks.

"What?" you answer.

"Ice cream."

You look up from your book. Jerry lies on the other side of the couch, bored out of her mind. Her boss is in the room next to you, pressing an enemy on information — an enemy which Jerry brought to him. It's revolting.

"How can you even think about food now?" you mutter, face leaning in your hand.

"Because I'm hungry?" Jerry replies snarkily and throws the tv remote at your head.

You grimace, but realize that you'll get out of the house if you decide to listen to her upset stomach.

"Should we get some ice cream then?"

Jerry shines up. "Yes!"

She stands up and grabs your arm, pulling you up from the couch. You wince. You're taller than her, but there's no debate on who's stronger. Jerry takes you out to the garage.

"Choose", she says and points, "car or motorcycle? Pick the motorcycle."

"Okay? The motorcycle."

Jerry smirks and hands you a black helmet. "Do you know why I want you to pick the motorcycle? Because then you'll have to hug me all the way to the ice cream place. Unless you want to die, of course."

"Childish", you mumble teasingly.

Jerry hits your stomach with the back of her hand. You huff and stumble backwards.

"Careful, buddy", she says coldly, giving you a glare. "Wouldn't want you to get hurt. Put on the helmet now so we can leave."

Although Jerry scares you, there's something about her black motorcycle armor that makes you drool. You place the helmet over your head and sit down behind her. Jerry grabs your arms and wraps them around her slim waist. If she wasn't wearing her armor, you'd feel her sixpack through her shirt.

You reach the ice cream shop in less than twenty minutes. Jerry takes care of your helmet while promptly warning (threatening) you not to wander off.

You walk inside with her while she orders the two of you ice cream. You stand behind her with your hands in your pockets, looking around.

"Hey, stare-eye, do you want sprinkles?" Jerry asks over her shoulder.

"Yes, please", you answer.

You're soon given an ice cream, surprisingly in your favorite flavor. You didn't think Jerry paid attention to such things. You walk out to her motorcycle and sit down on the asphalt in the empty parking lot. Not a lot of people seem to go for ice cream at nine at night.

"This hits the spot", Jerry smiles.

You nod.

"Did you see the girl behind the counter, though?" Jerry asks and scoffs. "She was staring at you."

"I didn't notice", you reply.

"Of course you didn't. If I didn't know better, I'd think you had smoked something with the way you were looking around. Speaking of that, do you want to smoke? The boss has a cupboard full of-"

"No, I don't think that's for me."

"Oh, come on. How are you going to know if you haven't tried?"

"I don't want that. Alcohol is enough for me."

"Yeah, yeah, okay. If you don't want to, I'm not going to force you." She licks her ice cream and sighs dreamily. "Oh, to be high right now though."

You snort out a laugh. For a moment, you start to believe that you'll finally have a somewhat normal moment with Jerry, until she starts to look around with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"Give me your ice cream", she says quietly, in that hissing tone you hate.

You do without questioning. Jerry gathers them both in one hand and grabs your arm with the other.

"Pretend to talk to me", she tells you while forcing a half smile while fiddling with her phone in her hands. "Like we haven't noticed anything."

"Noticed what?" you ask in confusion.

"Keep talking or I'm selling you on eBay!" she hisses through the plastered smile.

You start to mumble a chain of "blah blah blah" while Jerry pretends to be interested. She throws the ice creams away and gives you your helmet.

"We're going to have to go fast as Hell, be prepared", she says, still wearing that smile. "Someone has followed us."

"Are we in danger?" you ask.

"Probably. But I’ve alerted my men, they should come quickly."

You put on your helmet and get on the motorcycle behind you. Jerry tightens your arms around her before blasting off. You're sure that your soul leaves your body when the speed accelerates. Everything around you turns into a blurry mess. Streetlights become long lines of light.

It doesn't take long before Jerry slows down.

"What are you doing?" you ask quickly.

"Something isn't right", she says. "They've fiddled with the bike. Motherfuckers wanted us dead. Get off."

You jump off and remove your helmet. Jerry grabs your hand and pulls you into the nearest alleyway. She slaps her hand over your mouth, hushing aggressively.

"Be fucking silent", she whispers.

You've been afraid in Jerry’s company before, it's only natural for her occupation, but this is something completely different. You have never been this close to her enemies before.

"Wait here", she whispers and brings out her gun. "I swear, if you move I'll kill you myself."

Which in Jerry terms translates to something along the lines of "whatever you do, stay hidden so you don't get harmed".

She disappears, leaving you all alone in the dark alleyway. You want nothing more than to sink into the wall and disappear. The minutes seem to pass by like hours. Everything is too silent. The only thing you can hear (beside your own heart beating loudly in your ears) are the sound of the city, sounding as noisy as it usually does. No indication that anything bad is happening. You gulp. Did she get taken? You fear the worst.

You take a stap forward to peek out of the alleyway when you feel someone grab you from behind. Before you have the time to shout, a hand is clasped over your mouth and something sharp points into your throat. Your entire body freezes.

“Jerry!” a voice shouts to your left. “I think you want to come look at this.”

You see a man in the corner of your eyes. He smiles widely and turns to you. You look at him with wide eyes. On the wall in Jerry’s headquarters, you’ve seen a picture of this unpleasant man.

“Oh, Jerry!” he sing-songs.

Jerry appears at the end of the alleyway with her gun in her hand. You can see her physically backing a step upon seeing the sight, her eyes widening slightly.

“My man here seems to have found … well, your man”, the unpleasant leader chuckles.

“Let him go”, Jerry warns, raising her gun.

“Or what? You’re going to kill me?” His smile widens when noticing Jerry’s hesitation. “If you shoot me, Jerry, my man will kill your boytoy. Do you really want to take that risk?”

“What do you want? You’re obviously talking a crap lot, just get to the point.”

The leader chuckles and nods. “Alright. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, I’m going to kill you.”

“Shocker.”

You don’t understand how Jerry can be so calm in this situation, you think you’re going to shit yourself.

“But”, the man continues and turns to you, “now I think that I have another idea.” He turns back to Jerry.

Tears well up in your eyes and spill over. You let your head fall down to avoid Jerry seeing you cry, but the leader grabs your hair, ripping it up again. Jerry flinches.

“What a man you’ve gotten yourself, Jerry”, he laughs. “Crying like a baby.”

“You’re half the man he is”, Jerry scoffs back angrily. “My boyfriend might be crying, but at least he knows that it’s cowardly to take on people who stand no chance. You’ll never be like him.”

“Put the gun down and come over here like a good little girl and I won’t have your brave, heroic boyfriend killed.”

Jerry glances at you and sighs heavily before throwing the gun to the side. Slowly, she walks over to the man with dark, glaring eyes until she’s right in front of him.

“Call me a good little girl again and I’m going to knock your teeth out”, she says through gritted teeth.

The man only smiles before knocking Jerry’s head into the brick wall surrounding you. You swallow your scream while watching Jerry’s body slump together on the ground. The leader turns to you and again, the knife against your throat presses against the skin. He collects one of your tears with his hand and licks it. You’re surrounded by maniacs.

"Please don't kill me", you cry.

"Not yet", the man replies. "I have plans for you. Get him in the car. Don't worry about bruising him, we'll roughen him up later anyways."

You're thrown into the back seat of a car while Jerry’s unconscious body is shoved into the trunk.

After a very unpleasant car ride, you find yourself in a warehouse. Jerry’s thrown onto the stone floor in front of you. They tie her to one of the pillars holding the structure of the building up, while you’re put in a chair. And then, nothing happens. You sit there, trembling like a leaf in the wind, waiting for something — anything — to happen. You want everything to start so it can be over quicker.

“What are we waiting for?” you whisper.

"For Jerry to wake up from her little nap", the leader says and gives Jerry's body a faint kick. "Until then, why don't you and I have a little chat, hm? Man to man?"

Rather not.

"How could someone like Jerry choose … someone like you?" he asks, gesticulating at you with his hand as if you are nothing more than filth. "When I think of Jerry's partner, I think of someone equally fucked. You look almost … normal!"

Thank you …?

"Tell me, why you?"

"I don't know", you answer breathlessly. "I have no idea."

"Really? Hm, that doesn't feel very detailed. Try to think."

"I-I guess that …" You gulp, lightheaded, " … that she just wanted someone outside of her … uh, her world."

The leader picks up a knife from a table dimmed in darkness. You watch it with wide eyes.

"Interesting", the leader says and points at you with the knife. "Then why did you accept her?" He starts to smile. "Or did you?"

"Not really …"

"That's what I thought. Jerry takes what she wants. Wouldn't surprise me if she decided to kidnap you. Does she treat you differently than others? I can't see that."

You figure that if you answer all if his questions, you will be somewhat spared.

"She does", you answer quietly and glance at Jerry's unconscious body. "Compared to others she treats me … uh, rather … well."

The leader laughs. "That's interesting."

You can hear Jerry moan quietly. It sounds painful. You can't help but feel sorry for her.

"Oh!" the leader smirks. "She's awake. Time for the fun to begin."

"Jerry!" you gasp and are about to run over to her, but the man who had held you back before steps I and does it again.

"Behave yourself", he tells you and pushes you back down.

Jerry has noticed the ropes keeping her to the pillar and lifts her head.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she spits. The man grabbed one of the tools.

"I want to play a little", he says, spinning the knife around his fingers. "But not with you. No, not you. With him."

"What?" Jerry asks and turns to look at you.

You've left your body. Your soul is flying around, trying to escape.

"Do not fucking touch him", Jerry warns and fights against the ropes.

You could feel a hand on your shoulder.

"What are you going to do about it, Jerry?" the leader smirks. "You can't move, now can you?"

She glares at him. You can tell how fear and realization starts to set in by the way she curls up.

"Sometimes, Jerry, I could actually find you cute", the man laughs and suits your arm.

You scream out in surprise and pain. Jerry flinches.

"Fine, fine!" she shouts. "Just tell me what you want, okay?"

"I want to hurt you", the man replies.

"Then do it?!"

"Hurting him hurts you more than if I ever used physical harm on you directly."

The knife cuts your shoulder. You swallow your scream and force your eyes shut. Feeling how tears start to bubble in your chest, you breathe heavily.

"Cut me instead!" Jerry shouts, now sounding both furious and frightened. "Leave him alone!"

The man chuckles and grabs a new tool. A potato peeler.

"No, no, please-", you cry.

The potato peeler hovers above your arm. The man holds your hand down to secure your arm in position. You try to wiggle, terrified.

"No!" Jerry screams. "Do that to me! Leave him alone! Are you a coward, or what?!”

“How dare you call me a coward?” he asks.

“Because you pick on someone that would never be able to defend themself against you! Peel my fucking skin! Do it! I give you the permission to do it!”

The man seems to think about it for a second before smiling.

“I think I’m good”, he says and hovers the potato peeler above your arm. “I don’t want to give you what you want, Jerry. Simple as that.”

“You have the fucking mentality of a three year old!”

The man smiles and pretends that he hasn't heard anything. The coming hour, Jerry’s forced to watch how the man strips you down, layer by layer, breaking you down into a sobbing mess, blood covering all visible parts of your skin — or more like, what's left of your skin. Through your blurred vision, you can tell that she's crying too. You've never witnessed her cry, or at least not like this. Her body is shaking with sobs.

Pain is thumping in your ears and your conscious nearly leaving you, but you can still hear her, still see her.

"Stop doing that!" she screams. "Please!"

The ropes have cut into her skin, causing her to bleed. The sight of her is horrifying. You’ve never seen her this pale before, she's almost taken on a green hue.

"Please stop", she begs and screams once the man picks up a gun. She starts to frantically fight against the ropes again. "Please, I need him! Don't kill him! He's all I have!"

The man stops to look at her and smirks, lowering the gun.

"Oh, right, your dear family", he purrs. "Your poor, little, unsuspecting family. Where are they now, Jerry? Tell me."

Jerry squeezes her eyes tightly shut. You can feel the gaping hole of the gun press against your temple.

"Tell me or I'll fucking kill him", he growls.

"They're fucking dead!" she shouts through broken sobs, glaring at him. "Someone fucking murdered them, okay?!"

"Mhm, and they didn't suspect a thing!"

Jerry’s eyes widen as she puts things together. Your messed up head can also understand the uncanny connection.

"Did you …?"

"It was so satisfying, seeing the scums who gave birth to you disappear from this earth. That’s what they deserved — for giving birth to someone like you.” He turned back to you, rising the gun towards you again. “And now, I’m going to get rid of the last one you care about.”

You shut your eyes, preparing yourself to die. Your body is exhausted. You don’t want anymore pain, better to put you out of your misery.

“No, please”, Jerry shakes her head. “Please, let him live. I will do anything if you let us leave.”

“As tempting as that is, I rather want you dead.”

He hovers his fingers on the trigger. His body suddenly jolts to the side, falling down. The gun clinks against the stone floor. You look up in horror. The door opens and black dressed men run in. They’ll kill you, you think. On the contrary, they untie Jerry who flies up from the floor to get over to you. You fall into her arms, sinking down on your knees. Jerry hugs you tightly, holding your head down in her shoulder.

“My poor baby”, she sobs, running her hands over your back — the only place where you’re still unharmed. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Too exhausted to cry, you just sit in her embrace. You’re not even sure if you’re happy that her men came in time to save you. You’re still in excruciating pain … and you’ll have to live with this memory for the rest of your life.

“It’s okay, baby boy”, she whispers in your ear and sobs. “You’re safe now. Don’t cry. I’ll patch you up, I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

Weirdly enough, her being nice makes you feel even worse. You’d rather have her joke about your pain and tell you to ‘man up’ instead of her babying you. You can feel her lips press against your forehead.

“Don’t cry”, she whispers, hugging you tighter. “My beautiful boy.”

One of her men carries you out to a black van where they patch you and Jerry up to their best ability. Every move hurts, everything burns.

The second you get home, you’re tucked in bed together with Jerry. She holds your body close to hers.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, she whispers. “I really am. I’m sorry that you had to experience so much. I really, really am.”

“I’m so tired”, you whisper monotonically.

“It’s okay, baby boy. Just sleep. Nothing will ever hurt you again. I will never let anything come close to you again. From now on, I’ll never let you out of this room. I will take any repercussions to keep you safe.” She cups your cheeks. “I did mean that — that you’re all I have. And I will keep you by my side.”

“I want to sleep.”

“Sleep. Sleep for as long as you want, I will be here and I will kill anyone that tries to disturb you, I fucking swear on that.”

She kisses your forehead and rests your head on her chest. You drift of to sleep immediately, hoping that all the pain will be gone once you wake up. Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear Jerry cry softly.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere fics #yandere oc x reader #yandere stories #yandere female #female yandere #male reader

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kjhbsies · 11 months ago

Text

PT II: Flowers of Despair

Ellie Williams x fem!reader (wc: 3, 248)

Synopsis: Will a love bloom even if your marriage is not real? Will Ellie Williams find a way to open her heart again?

Warnings: part II of the Waiting Room fan fiction. ellie is an asshole. major angst??? mixed signals??? not proofread and may have grammar errors. there will be a last part of this fic. happy reading!

pt. i pt. iii

In the first week you two moved into your dream house, you were beyond nervous. You did not expect for this to happen so quickly. Your father insisted that Ellie and you should get together for the meantime, while preparing for the wedding. Ellie agreed, saying that there was no problem, so who you are to decline such a wonderful offer.

This was your dream home; it was perfect. It was a fairly huge house with big doors and a great garden. You specifically bought this months before, and was staying here every now and then. It was near the farm, so it was serene and beautiful. You loved the landscapes here since you liked to paint everywhere.

But now, you aren’t sure how to feel.

“This is my room.” You said, pointing out the bedroom on your right as the both of you ascended through the second floor. “I’m sorry if it’s somehow messy, I just did not have the time to fix it up.” You smiled. “Your bags are already in there, but the maids will arrange it in the closet for you when they’re finished cleaning up the living room.”

“We’re not sleeping in different bedrooms?” Ellie scanned the whole area. “Or you insisted that we’ll get to share the same bed?” She looked at you with her stoic face.

Ellie watched as the color of your face drained out. You became pale when you heard her say that. Ellie has no problem sharing a room with you. Hell, she can’t even remember how many girls she has on her bed every night. But, the problem is, Ellie just wanted to taunt you because, well, she can be an asshole sometimes.

“Oh! I-I did not- I thought that’s what married couples do, you know, share the same bed.” You rambled, heart beating fast.

This is so humiliating, you thought.

Ellie chuckled. Heart warming up as she looked at you. You were so fucking…

Cute?

“But, we’re not supposed to be like those normal married couples, aren’t we? I thought we had an agreement, babe. Don’t fall in love with me.”

“Then don’t call me babe.” Your face scrunched up at her. “You don’t have to remind me every single day about our arrangement, you know? I’m not an idiot. I can hear you loud and clear.” You gulped. Ellie’s jaw tightened.

Am I an asshole? You looked sad, and something inside me hated it. She thought.

You looked up at her with soft eyes. “Well, it’s been a stressful evening. Let’s just rest. I’ll call one of the maids so they can bring your clothes to your room. You can just pick any bedroom you’d like.” You said before quickly going inside.

You hated it.

You hated how she’s just in front of you, but you can’t even touch her.

You hated how she’s just within your reach but you can’t get her. You will not get her.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

One month.

One month is all it would take until you and Ellie will be married. And then, you can get your inheritance. Ellie would still endure a few weeks with you. After she gets the money, you and her can get a divorce, and if it’s possible, Ellie will get Dina again, and the three of them can live as a happy family.

But what about you?

Nah, it’s fine. Ellie doesn’t really care.

“You can cook?” Ellie asked surprisingly when she saw you in the kitchen. She is walking straight beside you. She ignored how you looked great in your sundress and floral apron. There it goes again, the bows in your hair look adorable. She shut down her eyes, mentally scolding herself when she caught herself looking like a fucking creep.

You glanced back at her. Your heart skipped a beat when she settled beside you, leaning her back at the counter while her tattooed arms were folded in her chest. She’s just wearing a plain slim fit shirt and a pair of black trousers. Her auburn hair was tied in a bun and her freckles looked really good in the sunlight. “Yeah. I make really good pastas. Guess you can say that it was my specialty.”

“I thought rich girls can’t cook.”

“And I thought we shouldn’t bother each other. So, why are you here?” You quipped back.

Ellie looked at you in amusement. Good catch. Damn. “I was… bored.” Even she was not convinced with her statement. To be honest, Ellie doesn’t even know why she went up to talk to you. She’s just intrigued when she smelt the aroma of the food and was surprised when you were the one making it.

When she first tasted the pasta, you were looking straight at her, waiting for Ellie’s comments. And it made her uneasy. To say, your gaze made her nervous. So, she’s slowly devouring the food in front of her, chewing it gently. And damn, you really are a great chef.

“Was it good?” You asked, curiously.

“Yeah. Fuck, I was surprised that you can cook because, you know, you’re a ric-”

You shook your head, looking at her unamused. “Please don’t say rich girl.”

Ellie laughed.

Ellie fucking laughed for the first time.

Oh, this arrangement will fuck you up so bad.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

On a Sunday afternoon, Ellie found herself in the garden, sitting in the grass, while holding her guitar. You, however, would usually be at the same spot while painting. When you found Ellie there, you decided to quickly walk away from her.

“You can sit with me, you know.” Ellie said when she sensed you around.

“Uh…” You hesitated, the grip on your easel and canvas became strong. “Sure.” You gave in immediately.

You settled beside her as you began setting your art materials up. You looked at Ellie while trying to strum her guitar. Well, you’ve known that she has the skills because you’ve always seen her playing that. And it shocked you to the core, but Ellie has a beautiful voice.

“This is the first time that I picked this thing up.” Ellie blurted. “I swore that I wouldn’t play guitar again since…” She stopped talking. And you have an idea of what she might've been talking about.

“Do you still like her?” You asked, gripping on the paint brush as tight as you can, fingernails digging through your palms.

Ellie’s mood turned sour. “That’s none of your fucking business, princess.”

“I was just asking.”

“Well, you shouldn't. Don’t ever bring her up again. As a matter of fact, we shouldn’t even talk with each other.” Ellie said before standing up while grabbing her guitar.

Your eyes drop as you can feel lumps in your throat when you’re holding your tears back.

Ellie did not know why she became so defensive. When anyone brings up Dina, her mind automatically flashes back to everything they’ve done. And as much as she tries to conceal or hide it at the back of her mind, Ellie can’t seem to get away from it.

She looked back and found you staring down at your lap when guilt started flooding her brain. Ellie wanted to apologize then and there but her pride made her walk away.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The argument happened three days ago. You never talked to Ellie since the incident, and she didn’t even try to spare a glance at you either. The house has been eerily quiet and cold since that happened. Martha, your maid seemed to sense the tension between you two.

Every day, you’re always the one who wakes up earlier to make and eat breakfast for the two of you. You did not want to eat three times a day with her, and Ellie also felt the same way.

Did she?

I mean, to Ellie’s surprise, she’d wake up with food on the table everyday. And even though she tried to deny it, she’s always fascinated with how you cook and how delicious those meals are. It is obvious that you try to avoid her every day. And Ellie did not know whether she would be grateful or annoyed. Well, why would she even get annoyed, right? She asked for it. And now that you’re giving it to her, why is she always catching herself trying to find you every day?

To make it short, she’s an idiot.

Now, both of you were at Jackson to try wedding dresses. Your mother insisted that she knows the best tailor in town and that’s where the both of you were.

“Ok, twirl.” Your mom said when you stepped out of the changing room.

“I don’t like how it fits me. I can’t breathe.” You said while looking at your figure in the mirror.

“Try another one, mija. We have so many dresses here.” The old lady smiled at you and you nodded. Going back to the same changing room to try the dress that captured your eye.

Ellie passed by and your mom called her. “Ellie! How’d the fitting go?”

“It went well and faster than I expected.” Ellie chuckled.

“Well. Sit here and watch your future wife. I think she’ll like the last dress.” Your mom patted the seat beside her and Ellie hesitated for a second before she nodded and sat down.

You walked out of the changing room while wearing the first wedding dress that caught your eye. It fits you like a glove, and it is really flattering. Your steps halted when you saw Ellie staring right at you.

“Do you like it?” The owner asked happily. “It really brings out your beauty.”

Ellie silently agreed. She can’t keep her eyes away from you and how stunning you looked. Her mouth gapes, trying to find a word that best describes you at the moment but how her heart fluttered made her weak. Both of you are staring at each other’s eyes and you can’t seem to look away.

“Doesn’t she look great, Ellie?” Your mom asked Ellie.

She wasn’t even supposed to talk to you. Both of you shouldn’t even interact, let alone stare at each other like this. But there’s no choice.

“Yes.” Ellie gulped. “You look… great.” She cursed at herself. Great? Idiot, she’s more than that.

You try to fight off a huge smile so you look down, afraid that you just look like a stupid highschool girl at the moment. You turned your back at her immediately before nodding to the tailor.

“Yes I’ll get it since my wife likes it too.”

God, both of you were supposed to be mad at each other, right?

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Throughout the preparation for the wedding, both you and Ellie were always at Jackson. Your morning routine consisted of you waking up at 7:00 in the morning to cook and eat breakfast, and read a book for an hour before Ellie woke up. And when the clock strikes at 9:00 AM, it is your time to stand up to go into your room, take a long bath and get ready.

Ellie will meet you outside, in the car, to go to Jackson. And it is awkwardly silent and painful. Jackson is a 30 minute drive and the two of you weren’t even letting out even a small quip, nor glance at each other as the two of you agreed.

Well, you wanted to apologize to Ellie for bringing Dina up in that conversation, three weeks ago. But you can’t seem to find the courage to talk to her. You did not know how much Dina really meant to Ellie up until now that even though it’s you that she shares the same house with, she can’t seem to forget her. This thought haunted you every night, but you can’t really blame Ellie. Dina is her soulmate, and you’re just a huge hindrance.

Besides, both of you almost never agree on anything. You loved the shades of pink and blue for your wedding, and Ellie will say that it is such the corniest color. While trying to make the perfect wedding invitation, Ellie would go up beside you to propose something really annoying. Ellie loved carrot cake but you hated the hell out of it that almost caused a huge fight in the shop. When things get heated between you two, you will just shut up because you can’t create a huge scene, especially that both of your parents are around.

Today is your break from her since after the wedding tomorrow, you would be tied to her. Not forever, but maybe months, or years, even. Ellie and you decided to have a girl’s and guy’s day before the wedding. You two would stay here at Jackson for the night – in her old house.

“We’re here.” Ellie said. You nodded and opened the door and she waited for you to get out before stepping outside. Ellie smiled widely as she saw her friends. Everyone of them started hugging and clapping each other’s back.

“Yo, man! I never thought you would be married.” Jesse said happily.

“Was that an insult?” She asked before playfully smacking him.

“Oh, hey, Y/N, if Ellie did something really shitty, you can just go at me. I’m really good at comforting pretty girls.” The masculine girl went up at you, grinning, while holding out her hand. “I’m Julie, by the way.”

“Uh…” You hesitated before looking at Ellie who didn't really look pleased. And seconds later, she is hitting Julie’s head hard.

“That’s my wife, you shit.”

Jesse and Julie shared the most obnoxious laugh.

“Okay, guys, I’ll just leave you all.” You smiled. “Ellie, I’ll just meet up with the girls. I’ll see you at your house later.” You said, waving at them.

“Wait, wait, where’s Ellie’s kiss?” Jesse asked.

“Dude shut up.” Ellie immediately answered.

“Come on, guys. You don’t kiss?” He asked again. “Ellie, what happened to your game, dude?” He taunted.

“It’s fine.” You looked at Ellie reassuringly before tip-toeing to kiss her in the lips. It was sudden, and it was just a quick peck but your heart hammered and you felt like it would come right out of your throat. “Bye.” You whispered softly before turning away.

Ellie felt frozen at the moment. Shit, she can still feel your lips at her. The scent of your lip gloss lingered at her and it’s all that she could smell right now. What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing to her?

Ellie watched your figure as you were walking through your friends. She was so glad that you quickly went away without looking at her, or else Ellie would be caught dead right there and then.

You’re so fucking confusing.

Ellie hated it.

Ellie hated you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You were staring at Ellie’s bedroom, scanning every little thing in here. Joel said that this has been her bed since she was nine years old. An old guitar was sitting near her windows, as well as a pile of books about spaces, science, dinosaurs, as well as a couple of ‘No Pun Intended’ books in different volumes.

You were shocked that she knows how to sketch when you found some sketchbooks on her desk. Some were filled up until the last page, but there are some who weren’t even touched. When you opened one, you saw that her sketches mainly consisted of horses, Joel, and Dina. She draws her beautifully, making her a goddess, just like what she sees in her eyes. Dina is her muse, and both of them can create a masterpiece. Somewhere in your heart was pierced as you were thinking about it. Ellie probably stopped sketching when she left, and has never touched a pencil ever since.

The door opened. And it showed a drunk Ellie. You sat up, quickly walking away at her desk and releasing the grip on one of her sketches.

“The fuck are you doing?” Ellie immediately walked up to hide her arts.

“I’m sorry. I just got carried away looking at-”

“Why are you here, anyway?” She looked at you angrily.

You sighed heavily. You did not want another fight with her. “Where am I supposed to be?”

“At your friends or something?”

You laughed sarcastically. “You really do hate me that much, huh?” Slowly, you were walking towards her.

She grinned. “Yeah. I guess you can say that you’re not my favorite person.”

“But you’re marrying me. Tomorrow.”

She stepped forward, looking down at you with a taunting gaze. “Guess I would just deal with it.” Ellie started grabbing something on her dresser. “I’m sleeping on the floor. You can have my bed.”

You stood there, feeling ridiculous. “This is what you called ‘dealing with it?’ We’re about to get married tomorrow, and you are still a coward.”

Ellie laughed loudly. She can feel her drunkenness start to wash away from her veins as you keep on talking. Yes, both of you shouldn’t even be arguing and she could just be the bigger person and ignore you but she just physically, and mentally can’t.

“What did you just call me?” She said, looking at you with squinted eyes.

“You’re a coward. I thought you brought a lot of girls here before, so why can’t you stand sharing a bed with me?” You asked, challenging her.

Ellie’s jaw tightened while she’s looking at you. Fuck, she can’t even say something back at you because you are making a lot of sense.

You rolled your eyes at her when she just stood there, frozen. Slowly, you went to her bed and covered yourself under the blanket.

There’s a nightstand beside you. In this, there’s a small lamp, a lot of toy figurines, coins, and a portrait of Ellie. She’s smiling at the camera, her auburn hair is tied in a bun and she’s wearing a tank top – revealing her muscles. You figured out that it was when she’s 19 – where she’s still a handsome girl you first admired. If you told your 16 years old self that you are marrying Ellie Williams, she would be beyond happy. She might faint, really. But right now, Ellie isn’t the girl you thought she’d be.

Everyone was right. She’s an asshole.

You sighed heavily as you felt the mattress beside you moved. Ellie lifted the blanket and settled herself under it. You and Ellie were sleeping both at your backs to avoid facing each other.

Why are you still wasting your time with her? Ellie wouldn’t love you no matter how hard you try. Maybe it is the time to accept the fact that she wouldn’t be yours here, or maybe in another lifetime.

She wants Dina.

And you’re not her.

“Is this a good idea?” You asked her suddenly. “We always fight and I hate it because I’m not made for it.” You shut your eyes tightly as tears started streaming down, wetting the bed underneath. “I just want to love you.” You whispered, confessing your feelings for her.

Ellie gulped, trying to remove the lump on her throat. “I told you not to fall in love with me.” She said, softly. She can feel a familiar ache in her heart. Like the same thing when her mom left her, when Shimmer died, and when Dina left. She tried so hard to avoid those, protecting her feelings so hard that she even forgot that she still had a heart.

Until you came.

You smiled sadly. “Too late, Ellie. I have loved you since we were sixteen.”

#ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction

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wasawattpadkid · 2 years ago

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Housewife

Part - 10

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, mention of suicide,

Part 1

"Did Neil Prescott attack you with the ghostface costume on?"

"They've yet to close the case on the murders. Do you think Neil could've had a partner?"

"Was is hard watching your girlfriend die in front of you?"

The reporters spit inappropriate questions at Billy from the moment he stepped out of his car. He was more than happy that he got away with it but he found it a little annoying someone else was getting all the credit for his well executed plan. Billy threw his his backpack on barley missing the healing wound underneath his polo.

He passed by the reporters pushing some of them out of the way. Surprisingly no one bombarded him with questions when he entered first period. He heard whispers as he walked the halls. They didn't bother him at first. Billy lived through it, he got the front row seat most of them would kill to have. The boy kept his head down as he walked into his first period class. "It was Stu's house I know he had something to do with it." One of the boys said talking with his friends. Billy listened into the conversation. He was a nosey person by nature. "That doesn't mean he did it. I mean Sydney's dad was a wack job after his wife slept with half the town."

Billy nodded to himself. "I don't know something seems fishy with how close Stu and that new chick were." If you were close with anyone it was Billy. He was just careful about showing affection in public because shit like this happenes. People talk. "They were probably fucking and Tatum found out, everything went side ways." The group of three started laughing as the teacher shut the classroom door. Billy wasn't keen on hearing people talk about you or Stu but Stu had thick skin. Words never really bothered him much.

"You know we all would've died if Y/n didn't call the cops when she did." Billy snapped his tone a little too assertive. The class grew quiet everyone hearing what the boy had to say. Even the teacher was quiet not wanting to upset Billy more than he already was. "Class I know that these last few weeks have been traumatic for some more than others. However it would be beneficial to everyone if we continued on with our unit."

Billy went through the day with his keeping his eyes on the ground. He started to realize how hard it was to get through the day without Stu by his side going on and on about something he really didn't care about. The lunch bell rang and like clockwork all the kids flooded the hallway. For the most part Billy was completely ignored except for a few wide eyes stares in the hallway. For a second he forgot about what he had done. He saw the fountain being occupied by two girls. The freshman girls looked at Billy like he was a celebrity. "Oh my god Billy Loomis. I didn't think you'd come back so soon. Are you okay?" The blonde student rambled on stumbling over her words.

"Move." He was a man of few words. "I'm sorry about Syd- wait what?" She asked as her friend started picking her things up. "Are you deaf or something? Get out of my fucking spot." The girls hurried to grab their things. "This is where we sit everyday are you fucking blind?" He yelled causing people around to stare at the scene. "I-I'm s-sorry..." The kid stuttered scared of the boy in front of her. "Duh- duh- duh- get the fuck out of here." Billy spat nearly making the girl cry. Silently her friend grabbed her hand pulling her towards the building.

He could feel the eyes of those around him tearing into his slim frame. Billy sat on the concrete slab where he always did. No Sydney, no Tatum, no Randy, no Stu, and no you. His peers just watched the boy have a mental breakdown. It was lonely being alive. It wasn't the lack of people that was upsetting, it was the quiet. Running a hand through his messy hair he jumped up. "Fuck this."

You had never felt so good on a Monday. Your wound barley hurt with a little help from the pain killers. "Elvis really?" Stu questioned as you pulled the record out of it's sleeve. "You're not an American if you don't like Elvis." He pulled his lips into a straight line. "Consider me Canadian." Your rolled your eyes sitting the needle down. "Did you know he came in his pants during one performance?" Stu crinkled his nose at the unwante information. "That is fucking disgusting. Tell me more." You laughed laying on your bed next to him.

Billy blasted his radio choosing to listen to the burnt CD Stu made him a few weeks ago. Sad whiney alternative rock seeped through the speakers. It did nothing to help his mood but he wanted to sit and wallow in his self pity for just a little longer. It wasn't a very long drive to your house which saved him gas. If he had to guess you were probably laid up in pain waiting for someone to come and help you. And if you weren't going to answer his calls he'd do the chivalrous thing by showing up unannounced.

You held your sides as Stu danced around doing his best Elvis impression. "Stop it's so bad." You cried with laughter barley able to get the words out. You heard a faint noise downstairs grabbing your attention. "Wait, shh do you hear that?" Stu pipped down letting you concentrate. "Somebody's at the door." You rolled off the bed heading down the steps. "I'm going to pick the next record." Stu called from the bedroom. Making sure you looked presentable you opened the door. Billy looked up at you a smile playing at his lips for the first time in what felt like forever. "Hey." He said as you stared in shock. Your heart raced and you felt sick.

"Jeez don't get too excited." The visitor rubbed the back of his neck trying to ease his slowly building nerves. It was obvious to him you weren't as happy about seeing him as he was you. To him you were a breath of fresh air but that was because he was stealing yours. "Y/n please talk to me." He pleaded making you snap out of the trance you were in. "Go away." You thought it'd come out as a scream but it barley qualified as a whisper. Billy caught the door as it was closing. "You can't just tell me you're in love with me and then disappear." He walked into the house as if he owned it. You couldn't help but laugh dryly.

"That's what you got out of everything thing that happened Monday?" He raised an eyebrow unsure of what he was missing. "What else was I supposed to get? You literally pointed at gun at me saying you did all this for me because you loved me." You slammed your front door causing Stu to jump upstairs. "I was going to kill you." You said plainly done with the chit chat. "Excuse me?" You walked to the kitchen grabbing a drink from the fridge. "You heard me. When I saw that article and saw your smug face all I could see was red." Billy took a seat on your couch deciding to take his shoes off as if he was staying longer.

"I did love you, you're right but that was years ago. For a second there you had me fooled I'll give you that. My original plan was to get close to you and then kill you. Simple as that. Stu made that hard considering you were two attached at the hip." You refrained from making a joke you knew the boy upstairs would appreciate. "Why didn't you just kill him too?" With the look you gave him he knew that wasn't a good question. You took a swig of soda setting the glass bottle down on the counter. "It might be a shocker for a heartless bastard like you but I don't just run around killing people that inconvenience me."

Billy was actually kind of hurt by the comment. "I found out you two were planning to murder a group of kids so I sat and waited for you two to get yourselves put in prison or better yet you'd kill yourself." Billy swallowed what little spit he had left in his mouth. He was uncomfortable. "I'm not stupid, I knew you were going to kill him. He was simply collateral to you. That's what really pissed me off. You hadn't changed at all. I couldn't kill you now because he loved you and I couldn't bring myself to hurt him. Does he know?"

Stu sat upstairs knees to his chest as he tried not to cry. He was dumb he knew that but he was okay with it. He didn't think he was think oblivious though. All he was to Billy was a disposable accomplice. Something he could throw away once he was done using him.

"I wasn't going to kill him. We were going to run away together." You laughed shaking your head in disbelief. "Watch out Loomis, you're starting to sound as delusional as me." The whole scene really played out like two parents in the midst of a divorce. "Why'd you come here?" The defeated sound in your voice made Billy regret his decision in coming here. "I wanted to see you." He muttered. "Well you've seen me." You held out your hands making sure he could get a good luck before he left.

"I love you." Billy looked up at you making sure your eyes met when you heard the words. You hated the way he could easily manipulate you. Maybe it was because you wanted him to. You enjoyed how the lies made you feel so you chose to believe them. "If you think that's what I want to hear it's not. Love bombing is a big red flag you know?" Billy slammed his fist on the couch arm in frustration. "What the hell do you want to hear then?" You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I can't explain every little thing to you Billy. It's not my responsibility to teach you how to be a decent human being. I just need time. We both do. If you still feel the same way next week we can talk okay?"

Billy bit his lip till it started to bleed. "Okay." He was yet again defeated by you. You weren't keeping score but he certainly was. "If I call will you at least answer? Please." The idea wasn't bad but you knew it was only a matter of time till this sense of clarity wore off. You'd take him back in a heartbeat because you're the same easily impressed girl you've always been.

"I'll think about it." You'd kiss him right now if he as much implied the idea. One whimper from him and you've would've started making the bastard a sandwich. "Thank you." He said as he put he shoes back on. "How are you?" It was a question you thought he didn't care enough to ask. "I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking. How are you doing?" Billy's wound didn't even bother him at this point it was his mental state that was in decline. "I miss you and Stu." That wasn't an answer to your question but you proceeded with caution.

"I'll be back to school next week. Why don't you stay home this week too? School is not exactly the best idea for us right now." All things considered that is. You didn't understand how much Billy despised his "home." Since his mother left him his house became a prison. A padded cell would be cozier. "I would rather go to school all day than go home." You felt for him but that's as far as your sympathy went. Slowly he stood up waiting for anything to keep him here a bit longer.

"I'll see you Monday, Billy." You walked over to him ready to open up the front door. Swallowing his pride he wrapped his arms around you burying his face in your neck. The strangely intimate act was not in Billy's character. "I'm sorry." He whispered to himself more than you. You weren't even sure if he knew he said it. Your arms wrapped around his back and he let you just hold him for a second. If this was some sort of manipulation tactic he was better than you thought. Billy cleared his throat as he pulled away.

"I guess I'll see you Monday." You nodded not trusting your voice. "Call me if you need anything." Billy added as he walked outside heading towards his car. "Bye." Your voice cracked and you quickly shut the door locking it. Instead of sliding down the door like they do in the movies you laid face down on the couch. Screaming you lungs out into the throw pillow seemed to attract the attention of the boy upstairs. "You okay Betty Crocker?" Stu said almost jumping down the stairs. "You want to go cliff diving?" You asked as you carefully rolled off into the floor.

Stu joined you on the carpet. "Can we drive off the cliff Thelma and Louise style?" You smiled cuddling up into his side. "Absolutely." You wanted to ask if he heard your discussion but with how red his face was you assumed he already knew. "Is Y/n your real name?" There was a calming sincerity to his voice. "I wouldn't lie about that. Well actually that's a lie, yes I would." He laughed covering his eyes with his arm. "But no I'm not lying about that. I've got my birth certificate somewhere around here or I could just give you my social security number." You smiled up at him. "That works too."

Stu played records as you and him cleaned the kitchen. He felt betrayed by his best friend and he desperately needed the break. Stu would forgive Billy eventually, he always did. He knew you'd forgive him too if you hadn't already. That's just what Billy did. Ignorance is bliss, Stu learned that a long time ago. In the meantime, Stu was busy playing house with you.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you)

Part 11

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree @youcantbesirius @lubunnii @captainhowdysseptum

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cum-a-calla · 2 months ago

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Roman getting so overstimulated from cumming so much that he just starts sobbing 🫣🫣🫣 flinching away from touch but also pliant to it. Its too much but dont stop bc youre literally his only anchor right now. He needs his soul crushed back into his body. He needs to get squeeezeedd

The first orgasm had rushed through him surprisingly quickly. It had been a while, and hearing the things you’d whispered into his ear and your eager, slippery fingers gliding over his cock had him thrusting into your fist within minutes.

You sit behind him, watching him in the mirror. It’s full-length, ornately framed in brushed chrome and clean enough that you feel you could reach forward and touch right through to the twin images of you and Roman inside. You’re snug draped over him like that, legs splayed out on either side of his as you wrap your arms around his body to jerk him off from behind. He’s got his button-down shirt all rucked up over his slim belly, no pants to speak of. He watches your hands in the mirror and occasionally even meets your eye, his pupils dilated beyond belief, like wet, blackened moons hovering above the fever-spots high on his cheeks. His cock barely wavers after the first climax.

“I can’t do it,” he mumbles, voice drawn high. He shakes, all the way from his core. You hold him, anyway. His hands are free, able to stop you from doing anything he doesn’t want to do. He keeps his fingers taut and tight on your thighs, almost tucking them underneath your legs. Completely surrounded by you, by your scent, your tickling whispers into his ear. He whines and hangs his head back, but only for a split second - he can’t resist watching himself like this. You know just how much he needs it, needs to be treated like a desperate little slut. Your own arousal builds between your thighs, but that can wait. That can wait for quite a long time, if need be. “Too much… can’t. Can’t do it again.”

“Not up to you,” you coo into his ear. He shivers and you pick up the speed, reaching your other hand down to cup him by the balls. You pull on them so deliciously slowly, almost like a long stroke. He inhales sharply and holds his breath, staring so intently at what you’re doing that it’s almost like he’s glaring, eyebrows drawn, a vein standing out on his forehead. Sweat slicks him from hairline to his throat, and he smells so good you could sink your teeth into his ribs. Kissing his damp skin is salty, exciting. “You’re my disgusting, needy boy and I want you to cum for me. I want it again.”

“I f-fucking can’t, you’re not - you’re not listening to me,” he lashes out. His tone is angry, almost as angry as his cock, swelling and flushing a deep pink that signals another release on the way. You give his balls a harder squeeze, a warning, and he looses that breath he was holding in a hiss. “Ah! - okay, oh - okay, please, please, I’m close! Please!”

“Use your big boy words, Roman. Tell me what you need or I’ll keep you on the fucking edge until it starts to hurt.” He makes these quick, panting breaths, hips rocking up once more. It’s almost like he wants to say it, the words building on the back of his tongue and disintegrating into pathetic little whimpers. You read all of this at once and act accordingly, ready to follow through with any and every threat at a moment’s notice. You ring your fingers around the base of his cock and hold it there, firm, squeezing him. He stiffens up and moans, almost a sob as it’s drawn out and trembling through the air. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

“Oh, I fucking want to cum, please let me cum! Please let me have it, please! I wanna cum, I wanna cum,” he cries. His voice keeps breaking, and in the mirror, you catch his chin trembling before he throws his head back again, hiding, blinking his tears back as he shakes out of his skin. A hitching gasp takes his voice away, and an almost imperceptible ‘please’ slips from those lips. He’s sniffling, trying unsuccessfully to swallow the sounds of his exhausted crying.

He’s beautiful. He’s a fucking painting, tensed and agonized and on the verge of coming completely apart one way or another. Every muscle tight. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that it really hurts, but the pain hides behind all the raging excitement of seeing him this way. You want to take a picture, you want this moment tattooed into the soft gray meat of your brain, illuminated behind your closed eyelids any time you blink. You could tell him right now that you loved him and it would be true. This Roman, this desperate, horrifically flawed being. Stripped completely bare and fleshless, everything exposed. Every nerve raw.

You loosen your grip and work your way back into a rhythm, slow at first, bringing him back. Showing him a kindness.

“See?” you say softly, lips against his skin. “See how good I take care of you? See how I can make you feel anything I want you to?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I fuh-hucking - I do, I do, oh my god.” Roman openly sobs, eyes and cheeks and nose red. “Th-thank you, I want it, I- I-”

“I know. Good job. You’re gorgeous like this, you know that? I could keep you like this forever.”

“Keep… keep me?”

“Yeah. All mine.”

“For- for…” Roman stutters into a moan, voice rising out of him like a powerful tide as pleasure crashes between his thighs once more. He’s close, dangerously so, cock bouncing in your hand. He doesn’t bother finishing his thought, instead allowing it to carry him away. Completely at your mercy.

“Give me everything, Roman. Go ahead. Cum for me, good boy.”

He goes so taut he points his toes, his body a long, thrumming line of energy. He’s nearly shrieking this time, thrusting up again into your wet fingers, almost thrashing against you. You don’t go anywhere, tight around him, and hook your legs around his to keep them apart, keep them still from kicking. He whines and seems to have a little second rush as you do so, words spilling out of his mouth but remain indecipherable within the chaos of his crying and moaning. It takes him longer to relax his body down this time, catching his breath and letting the aftershocks pass through him. It’s easy to stroke his stomach, to run your hands up inside his shirt and stroke his chest. Your fingertips tickle at his collarbone and he hums, going limp against you. Aside from the odd sniffle, his emotions are back under control. You know he’d hate it, hate you staring at him like this, but you steal a long glance in the mirror. His eyes are half-closed, face blotchy with all that red. Swollen around the eyes, all cried out. The shape of his thighs is lovely, the shape of his cock even as it softens. The sparse hair on his lower belly.

“M’tired,” he mumbles. “You… you killed me, you… bitch.”

“I know,” you say, smiling behind him. The both of you rise and he haphazardly pulls on a pair of boxers, stripping his shirt off and throwing it on the floor as he heads to the bed. He scratches the back of his neck and does a little stretch as he stumbles. He spares an annoyed glance behind, an eyebrow lifted.

“Well… get up. You’re coming too, right?”

Right? A quick flash of hope, holding another breath. The only way he knows how to reliably reciprocate to you, to show a kindness, a tenderness. Don’t leave. Stay with me.

“Yeah - yeah, Rome. Need to rest my arm, it’s fucking dead.”

Roman’s face relaxes, smirking at you and rolling his eyes. “That’s on you. Pervert. I’m just a victim in all this. Now, less talky. More sleepy. Get up.”

#hashtag torture the twink #i love it i need it i want it #pathetic wet sobbing roman hours #thanks for the prompt 😎#roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy/reader #succession fic #kieran culkin #prompt #my writing #ask

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weirdo09 · 1 year ago

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estas bien, mami?(gn)

a miles g/prowler! miles x reader

requested by anonymous

warnings:

teasing to the point of short term periods of not eating

slight eating disorder

possibly sensitive topics

tooth rotting fluff

annoying brothers

any of these seems uninteresting to you, don’t read.

you know how your younger brother can say stupid shit at times but you really didn’t think it affected you until that day. every now and then, you’d get little comments from your brother like “oh, she’s eatin’ again? fattie.” or “why do you eat up all the food?” it didn’t really effect you, all it did was annoy you but as it persisted, the more you started to wonder if he was actually right.

the first time he ever said anything was at a cookout with your extended family in georgia. you were on your second plate of food when you heard him and your boy cousins snicker bout how much you were eating. “look, watch out! y/n’s gonna leave us hungry with the way she’s eatin’!” they said, you just rolled your eyes and went to sit with your other cousins. it was nothing but a harmless joke at the time.

the second time was when you and him were at the dinner table. “you sure you wanna eat all that? i mean, you look pretty big already.” he whispered past you, getting his fill on mac n cheese and chicken. you huffed and put up the finger, your momma scolded you and sent you upstairs to finish your dinner. “estúpido.” you said under your breathe, that you learned from miles. (y’all aren’t dating officially yet) that night, you didn’t eat as much as you normally did but it wasn’t like anyone would notice, right?

the third time was when you two were over a friend’s house, your momma forced you to bring your brother over for ‘quality time’ or some shit. as you left downstairs to eat, he popped up, snickering with your friend’s brother. “look at the hippo!” they squealed, unfortunately your friend and her mom barely heard so your mood was officially ruined for the rest of the night. you eat a moderate size amount of food and you would soon suffer the consequences for your stomach growled most of the time there.

the fourth and final time before the ‘day’, was the day after getting back from your friend’s house. you didn’t even bother getting breakfast not like your family cared, apparently. you went down for lunch and got a apple while your brother was staring at you.

“all for today, hippo?” he asked, you nodded and ran up the stairs. you walked over to the bathroom, you decided to weigh yourself just out of curiosity. surprisingly, you lost 20-25 pounds in the last week. the last time you weighted yourself, you were 199 lbs. you thought about going lower, maybe then he would stop picking on you. so you decided you go down to 160, losing 39 pounds was easy.

as the weeks passed, you were getting slimmer and slimmer. you smiled at the console of getting skinny, you weren’t an ideal type for boys. maybe then they’d start to notice you. your mom also made quick remarks about your unknown weight loss and about how she was so proud that you stopped eating as much. you weighted yourself and saw that you slimmed down to 146.

‘yes!’ you thought, you were finally perfect. or should you go lower? ‘do it, y/n.. you know you want to..’ a voice said creepily, you shivered. you got off the scale and made way to your room. that was a strange thought but you managed to look past it. you thought about it for hours, it was slowly eating away at you. 1-2 weeks later, you were down 130. you felt tired but happy.

after that, you were getting more and more exhausted. simple tasks began to take a toll on you. one day, ‘the day’, you went on the scale and passed out. you woke up, laying on the bathroom floor. you tried to get up but you were too tired. then you thought about calling miles, ‘he wouldn’t want to see you… not when you look so ugly, so disgusting… you should be ashamed..’ the voice said again.

going against it, you rang up miles. “què pasa, mami?” he asked, you sighed deeply. “nothin, could y-y-you come over? i wanna see you.” you said, gasping for air. “alrigh’, ma, hang on tight.” he said, hanging up. you passed out again.

“hey, mrs. [last name], you do know where y/n is?” miles asked, the lady shook her head. “maybe try in her room?” she suggested, he thanked her. he walked up the stairs and made way to your bedroom before he saw the bathroom door open with you lying on the floor. miles stared in concern and walked towards you. “mami? puedes oírme?” miles asked, shaking your body for a response. “nnghhh…” you groaned, “stop shaking me!” you said in annoyance, miles pulled you into a hug.

“ma, estás viva!” miles exclaimed, holding you close and smiling down at you. “yeah? i’m fine, miles.” you said, staying in his hold a little longer before attempting to get up. you fell before miles caught you. “estas bien, mami?” miles asked, worried. you looked down at your body and began to tear up, “no, miles, no, i’m not ok..” you whispered, miles picked you bridal style and walked downstairs.

gladly, there was no one there to stop him from taking you to his house because best believe he would fight if he had to. you hid in his chest most of the way there. once you got there, miles made way to his room and closed the door with his foot. he placed you down on his bed.

“mind tellin me why i found you on the floor passed out?” he asked, staring into your eyes. “i just tryna ‘ose a few pounds, ‘s all..” you mumbled, miles frowned. “mila, mi vida,” he began to say, getting down on his knees to hold your hands. “eres tan hermosa, mi niña bonita.” he finished, kissing up your arms to your lips. it was short and sweet.

you started to tear up again, miles frowned deeply. “ah, mami, no lloles, pol favol, odio verte molesto…” he said, rocking you in his arms. the two of you ended up cuddling, miles hummed a song softly to you while tracing your face. you lied against him, content. “who said that you needed to lose weight?” miles asked, his demeanor changing slightly though he still traced your face with his finger.

“uhm, no one-.” you began to say when miles shot you a “tell me the truth or i’ll fight a random nigga” look. you sighed, “my brother..” you spat out, miles stopped tracing your face to look at you properly. “and my mom, a bit.” you confessed, miles’ usual warm hazel eyes turned cold. “you’re with me for a few days, mami, ok?” he said, though it sounded more of a command. you nodded, rio’s cooking was amazing. “good..” miles whispered, kissing your cheek. you cheesed softly. “estás a salvo conmigo, niña..” he whispered in your ear, him speaking spanish always made you fall head over heels.

translations-

què pasa, mami? - what’s up, mommy?

mami? puedes oírme? - mommy? can you hear me?

ma, estás vivas! - ma, you’re alive!

estás bien, mami? - are you ok, mommy?

mira, mi vida - look, my life

eres tan hermosa, mi niña bonita - you are so beautiful, my pretty girl

ah, mami, no llores, por favor, odio verte molesto.. - ah, mommy, please don’t cry, i hate to see you upset..

estás a salvo conmigo, niña.. - you’re safe with me, baby girl

#cade’s writing ✍🏾#earth 42 miles morales x reader #prowler miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales #x black reader #< my default for writing #astv #istv #spider man across the spider verse #spider man into the spider verse

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divinelolita · 1 year ago

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LETTING BILL DO YOUR MAKEUP

reader is intended to be male but gender/pronouns aren't mentioned 😪

"Bill that hurts."

"Hush, no it doesn't. Stop being a baby."

You groan as he adds another pump of foundation onto the sponge and starts patting your face with the color. Surely this isn't how he does his own makeup, he's pelting the sponge into your face so hard your sure you'll get a bruise later that day.

You sigh in relief as he pulls away and places the sponge someplace else. The slim feeling of happiness you had rushes out of your body as he picks up his eyeliner and smiles softly at you.

"Look up, okay? It'll be easier to apply."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but you oblige, turning your head up to the ceiling. Bill giggles quietly and you can see from the side of your eye he's shaking his head slightly. "No, not like that you dunce.." He grabs your face in his hands and turns it back to face him. "Roll your eyes up." he mumbles, opening the pallet and dipping the small brush into the black powder. as he scooches closer to see your face better.

You can only moan in defeat as you really have no way to back out now, he's so close he's practically ontop of you. The chalky, dry feeling of the eyeshadow streaking across your eyes is unsettling and uncomfortable at first but you eventually get used to it. You hum quietly under your breath, earning a light smack on the arm and a quiet 'let me concentrate.'

This time, you let out a giggle yourself, causing your body to shake ever so slightly which makes his hand quiver. You barley have time to feel the fast streak of makeup zoom across your cheek. Really, it's quite baffling how he got it on your fucking cheek...

"Oh my god!" he groans, acting as though he's seeing the most horrific crime of his life. "You made me mess up! Stop moving..." he can't help but snicker himself and grin, wiping away the black stain and going back over it with the foundation.

If this is how your process would go, you would be here for a loooooooooooong time.. You feel like a canvas right now, being painted on with all these different colors. You wouldn't be surprised if you faced the mirror and ended up looking like you belong in a circus.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he put down the eyeshadow pallet and picked up a kohl pencil. You almost smile, this seemed like the easiest step yet! "That goes on my eyebrows, yeah? To fill them in..?" you asked, feeling rather confident. Bill can only laugh, shaking his head once more as he moves closer to you (if that's even possible)

He is quite literally straddling your lap, holding the pencil in hand and coming closer to your eye. You flinch as you see the sharp tip come closer to you, grabbing his arm with your hand to stop him from moving.

"We just did my eyes, no?"

"....this is something different baby."

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, and surprisingly overcome it. You scrunch your nose as he gently pulls your cheek down with his thumb, opening your eyes a bit. Then, to your horror, he attempts to put the pencil wayyy to close to your eyeball.

You try to pull away but to no avail, he grips your shoulder and forces you still. "It doesn't hurt if you cooperate, honey.." True, it didn't hurt badly, but it felt weirdly unsanitary when the pencil tip dragged across your waterline.

After what seemed like ages he pulled away, grinned, and pushed a mirror right in front of your face. You blinked a few times, staring back at your own reflection. You almost looked like Bill with all the makeup.

You looked..good.

#tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x male reader #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x female reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x male reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x non binary reader #bill kaulitz x female reader #x male reader #x reader

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blue-slxt · 1 year ago

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Kinkmas 4

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: I need more Spider content and if that means I need to write it myself, then so be it! All characters are aged up!

Kinkmas Masterlist

Pairing: Spider x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: P in V, Creampie, Cockwarming

“I can’t believe you got us lost!” you say throwing your arms in the air.

“Me? You’re the one that just had to follow that nantang pup!” Spider exclaims back. “Well I thought you said you knew your way around this part of the forest!! Besides, now we’re out here in the dark because you got your hair tangled in that branch and it took forever to get you out!”

“Whatever, right now, what we need is a fire. We should be far away enough from any crazy predators that a fire won’t draw too much attention.” he starts to explain while gathering twigs and branches to build a fire with.

You watch as he quickly and meticulously arranges all the wood together into a neat pile and he picks up two stones to start a spark. Surprisingly, he manages to get it to catch pretty fast. You sit in your spot and hold your knees to your chest trying to stay warm.

It feels like hours go by watching the fire gradually grow bigger and warmer, but still not quite warm enough for comfort.

Lying on your side, your eyes watch the dancing flames while Spider looks over at you.

“You still look cold. We should probably huddle together if we want to actually be warm enough.” he suggests.

The idea bounces around in your head for a moment before you nod your head and let him approach you. Your face feels hot from more than just the fire when his arms wrap around your middle. Despite being human, all the years of living on Pandora and with the Na’vi had given Spider the build of a Na’vi. He was slim and full of lean muscles and a tall stature. Being close to him now has you acutely aware of the clenching between your thighs.

While you’re lost in your musings, Spider shifts a bit behind you and that’s when you notice something thick and firm pressing against your ass. Your eyes go wide with the realization when you turn to look at him.

“Is that your–”

“Shut up. I can’t help it.” he quips back at you with an obvious red tinge on his face.

You’re not sure what’s crazier about this situation right now, the fact that Spider was holding you with his boner pressing right up against you, or the fact that you were getting wetter by the second. You shift a little and not-so-accidentally press your ass more against him. You can feel how he reacts when his hands hold on to you a little tighter. He responds by grinding his still-covered dick into you hard and slow. You can hear how he stifles his moan and it makes you clench around nothing.

“Spider…” it comes out as more of a moan than you mean for it to, but he still understands. The heat is bordering on unbearable between the actual fire and your breath starting to fog your mask. But you couldn’t care less when his fingers work to uncover your steadily clenching pussy. He plays with your puffy folds, spreading them and sliding between them as he pleases eliciting small moans and whimpers from you. Heavy breaths and the crackling of the flames is all you can hear while his fingers continue their ministrations. Soon enough, he can’t take it anymore and he’s sliding his own tewng to the side.

When he enters you, it’s slow and purposeful. One hand supporting your leg under the knee to hold you open for better access. You both shudder when he bottoms out. His thrusts are slow and drag deliciously against your sweet spot. Low grunts and groans from Spider behind you make your walls hug tighter around him.

“Shit…so tight” he breathes out.

“Ah! Mmf…haah Spider…”

His head falls against your shoulder and his eyebrows pull together trying to hold his composure, even though he knows that he’s done for. You’re not far behind him, your thighs quivering and toes curling.

It’s only after a few more strokes, you feel warmth start to spread from Spider spilling inside of you.

“Fuuuck…” he almost growls, letting the pleasure wash over him. At the same time, your walls spasm and shake under the weight of your own high crashing into you.

As you come down, you notice Spider hasn’t moved or made any attempt to pull out of you yet.

“Spider?”

He hums a response to you without opening his eyes.

“You wanna pull out of me anytime soon?”

“Nah, we’re supposed to be staying warm, right? This is perfect.”

Taglist: @minnory @sussybaka10 @celess0 @funkyflamingo01 @itchaboi-itchyboy @loaksulluyswife @myloveforyouisforever @neteyams-wh0re @the-mourning-moon @wakanda-forever-andotherfandoms @zafrinaxyz @neteyamsyawntu @pandoraslxna @xylianasblog @hotdsworld @teyamsatan @sulieykte @neteyamsoare @neteyamswillow @cryinginthemoonpool @plooto @eywaite @quaritchsluts @jakexneytiri @luvv4j4ybe11 @eywascall

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #avatar fic #avatar fanfiction #avatar smut #avatar twow #spider x reader smut #spider socorro #spider soccoro x reader

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celestial-toys · 1 month ago

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That I Would Be Good [1/5]

How to Help

You take note of the two people on this couch with you. These innocent lives you brought into this awful world, with no thought given to the consequences. Stereotyped them down into boxes and expected a perfect fit—naive enough to think you could bring a fantasy to life.

You really want to apologize for falling into the business of playing God.

- - - - - - -

In This Chapter

Moon attempts to care for you as you do a little bedrotting.

The boys debate over taste in entertainment as you cry over work stress.

Much to Sun's chagrin though it all may be, you're saved from a potential night spent sleeping with your dog on the cold, hard hallway floor.

Pairing: Sun x Moon x Reader

Word Count: 5,174

Contains: [AU - Real World] [depiction of depression] [crying] [arguing] [an episode of vertigo] [tension] [fear]

A/Ns: This is a songfic. Lyrics and title are from 'That I Would Be Good' by Alanis Morissette.

This fic is part of my AU “[Not] Made by Design”, the full series can be found here.

Lastly but certainly not least, this fic is dedicated to my friend Adrianna @roses-and-tears, whom I’ve been teasing with the existence of this fic for far too long. Thank you for your patience as I took my sweet time on this, and thank you for your patience with me in general. Your friendship means a lot to me, as does your endless support of my writing. I’m really grateful to have you in my life. Happy Birthday, Adri. 💛

That I would be good even if I did nothing.

Late afternoon sunlight slips through the slim crack between the drawn curtains covering your balcony doors. Over the past hours you’ve absently watched it grow from a bright yellow at noon to a vibrant orange now, the thin line cast across your bedsheets growing longer as the sun slips lower and lower. It serves as the only illumination in the room, all of your various lights and screens turned off in an effort to pretend that it’s an acceptable hour to be miserably curled up in bed, ignoring the world.

The occasional soft, muffled sounds of various housework being done by your—rightfully concerned, you suppose, yet surprisingly concerned, if you’re being honest—partners prevents you from ignoring the entire world, though. The subtle reminder that they’re here with you, that the house isn’t really empty, serves as a comfort that you aren’t sure you deserve. A small part of you wishes you truly were alone again, so at least you’d have a good reason to feel this way. You’d certainly feel less guilty about it too.

To their credit, they’ve handled this episode pretty well. Giving you space when you request it and proximity when you need it. Checking in on you. Keeping you clean, hydrated, and fed to the best of their ability in spite of your reluctance.

You just wish you could pull yourself out of this already.

You have work to do.

The mere thought of all that you’ve fallen behind on has you reaching up, grabbing at the corners of your pillow and tugging them down over your ears, eyes pinching closed in desperate avoidance.

Through the pillow you barely pick up on the muffled sound of soft knocking at your door.

You sigh, and manage a weak acknowledgment. “Yeah?”

Moon’s low voice rumbles through the barrier. “May I come in?”

You cough, clearing your parched throat. “...Yeah.”

The door swings open slowly and you squint, expecting the sting of the bright hallway light to hit, but it never does. You crack an eye open, releasing your hold on the pillow and tilting your head to watch him enter.

Your voice comes out more aggravated than you intend it to sound. “We got a bulb out in the hallway or something?”

Moon pauses halfway through closing the door behind him, his monitor swiveling around to face you. “Hmm?”

You clarify. “The light’s off out there.”

Understanding straightens the scrunched lines on his display that serve as his eyebrows. “Oh, no. The lights are fine, I just…” His monitor swings back around to align with his body as he gently pushes the door closed. “I’ve gathered that it hurts your eyes.”

The door quietly clicks shut and the light of his screen dims, adjusting its brightness to match that of the room. “The contrast, I mean. It being so bright out there when the bedroom is… so dark.”

A look, half-guilt and half-apology tugs at your features as you watch him approach the bed. “I’m sorry…”

His monitor clicks about 20 degrees to the right. “What for?”

His question is spoken so softly, so gently, and if you didn’t know better you’d almost believe that he really can’t think of anything you’d have to apologize to him for.

You know that couldn’t be further from the truth, though.

You’re about to acknowledge his ironic disdain for the darkness, but as you watch him reach down and experimentally lift the still-full bottle of water he refilled for you some odd hours ago, you pause. As his neutral expression curls into a small frown, you realize you should apologize for that, too. Your mind quickly offers up more and more things that you should apologize for, and within seconds your eyes are welling up with tears.

“Everything…” you say as you blink, letting them roll along your temples and—annoyingly—into one of your ears.

His monitor turns halfway toward you, but his false eyes don’t follow the motion, still locked on the bottle of water he’s thoughtfully swirling in his hand. His real eye must take in the state of you though, either that or his mics picked up on the emotion in your voice, because he passes the bottle into his left hand before turning and gesturing down toward the mattress with his right. “May I sit next to you?”

You nod, knowing he can see the motion even in the dim light, and you shift a bit from your dent in the mattress for the first time in… well, probably since Sun poked his proverbial nose in here an hour or two ago to make sure you were still breathing. Begrudgingly, you haul yourself up into a somewhat-vertical position, knowing if you don’t do it now Moon will coax you into it soon anyways. You pull your long sleeve down over your hand and use it to wipe at a few wet tear tracks.

Moon settles himself down on the mattress next to you, gently helping to pull away the sheets just enough to free you from your blanket prison as you halfheartedly reposition yourself. He rests the bottle on his left knee, monitor turning toward his right to face you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I think… a lot of the things you apologize for don’t even need one in the first place, and as for the things that do need one… well, you’ve already given them and I— …we’ve already accepted them.”

You sigh. “I wish it were easier for me to believe you.”

His tone has an edge of resignation, or… defeat, in it when he replies. “...So do I, star.”

His simulated breath deepens a bit and in the quiet of the room you hear his cooling system kick down a notch due to his shift into physical inactivity. He passes the water bottle into his right hand, his gaze flicking down toward it and then up to you. “Can you take a sip of this for me, please?”

Now that you’ve actually tried to speak and realized how… gross your mouth feels, you take it from him without reluctance and take not one but several sips, greedily downing it as your body finally recognises its thirst.

Settling the bottle in your lap, you shake your head a bit at his offered hand. “I’ll hold onto it for now… thank you.”

You steal another glance up at his monitor and see a small, unexpected smile and kind crescent eyes. “Of course.”

As his hands fold neatly in his lap, you question him. “Is Sun mad at me?”

His expression fades back into one of concerned confusion. “Why do you think that?”

You shrug and take another sip of your water, downplaying your explanation. “…Dunno. Just feels like that sometimes.” You think for a moment. “I wouldn’t blame him for it if he was. Wouldn’t blame you either.”

Moon’s display swivels side to side on its axis, shaking his head in disagreement. “I don’t think he is. I mean… you know Sun. He’s cold. Not as much as he once was, but still colder than I am, at least. Distant. Quiet. But… I don’t believe that he’s mad.”

He shifts, leaning back against the headboard and stretching his legs out across the length of the bed, crossing them as he releases an imitation of a breath. Angling his screen back toward you, he whispers, “You wanna know what I think?”

You nod, eyes widening in curiosity.

“I think he’s just as worried about you as I am. He just doesn’t know how to show it, or what to even do with such an emotion in the first place.”

You frown, your mind automatically finding yourself at fault. “I—I did my best to train your AIs identically… I don’t—I don’t know what happened with his emotional processing—”

Moon cuts you off, redirecting your attention with a gentle hand on your arm. “That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to blame you. AIs…” his voice and expression both turn playful, “…we’re a dangerous thing. You never truly know how we’re gonna turn out.” He nudges your shoulder with his, and you fight back a tiny laugh.

A comfortable sort of silence falls over the dark room, and you break it with one more quiet question. “…What’s he doing right now?”

“Same thing as Zero is, actually. Sleeping.”

His features dissipate, display changing as he pulls up an image he’d apparently taken of the dog and the bot sprawled across the couch. You huff a laugh at the sight of the two of them attempting to fit together.

“He told me he was up all night, but wouldn’t elaborate on why. So I wasn’t very shocked when he crashed in the living room and asked me to bring him his cable earlier.”

You sigh and look away, half-amused and half-stressed. The image fades, Moon’s default expression taking its place. You take another swig from your bottle before leaning back and to your left, the pillow behind you sliding along the headboard until you’re pressed against Moon’s side. “I wish he wouldn’t strain his battery like that. Gonna have to bring him in for a premature replacement at this rate.”

Moon nods, humming a quiet concurrence as he raises an arm, carefully wrapping it around your shoulders, your silent request for comfort heard loud and clear.

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

Neither of you ever got an answer as to what had kept Sun up that night. But, if you’d been able to look inside his mind and see his most recent activity, you’d have found a messy assortment of browser tabs, each one’s title containing the keywords “depression” and “how to help.”

That I would be good even if I got the thumbs down.

You’re settled atop Sun’s lap on your too-small couch, back comfortingly pressed against his chest, legs stretching out across the cushions to rest on Moon’s thighs. He’s the only one out of the three of you that’s actually sitting on the couch properly, Sun instead opting for his usual lengthwise position, one arm draped along the back of the couch and the other wrapped around your waist.

One advantage of his mechanical body is that he can keep his head twisted 90 degrees to the left, facing the TV for as long as he’d like and never know the pain of a sore neck.

He seems just as invested in what’s on the TV as Moon is, and if the repetitive shifts in lighting and audio are anything to go by, you’re willing to bet they’re having another silent argument over what to watch. Too absorbed in the game on your phone to be bothered by the inconsistent ambiance, you brush aside the stray thought to remind them that they could each just watch their own show in their HUDs instead of fighting over the big screen. Their strange insistence on adhering to the “human” way of doing things is something for you to psychoanalyze another time.

You half-listen to the TV as it switches back and forth between what sounds like BBC Earth, and The (ironically named) Learning Channel, taking note of the way Sun’s body warms. His cooling system audibly kicks in, and the creator in you takes immediate notice, the attention to your phone waning as your concern over Sun’s internal temperature rises.

You pause your game, pulling in a breath as you prepare to interject on whatever silent argument is getting him so heated, but they beat you to the punch, their internal exchange suddenly becoming external.

“—Because we’ve seen it before! I already know everything I could possibly need to know about crabs!” Moon’s voice cuts through the background noise and you flinch a bit at its sudden volume.

Sun’s curled fingers splay out flat across your stomach, apparently trying to calm you and argue with Moon at the same time. “It’s not about knowledge! It’s about the implications! The metaphor!”

Moon’s monitor pivots away from the TV and over to Sun, his volume lowering a bit as his optics pass over your form curled against Sun. “What implications?”

You twist around a bit to get a glance at the screen when the narrator says something that catches your ear.

“Our spy becomes the crab's defender.”

The three of you turn and watch as a robotic imitation of a crab serves as a mechanical wall of defense between a vulnerable, soft shelled crab and a hungry stingray.

You feel Sun’s arm tighten around you.

Confused and unimpressed, Moon turns back toward his solar counterpart. “Mhm, that’s lovely, Sun, but what does it have to do with us?”

Sun’s volume drops as you feel his body mimic a sigh. “More than your stupid ‘Thousand Coupons and Counting’ show does, that’s for sure…”

You feel your phone buzz in your hand, the darkened screen lighting up once again and drawing your attention away from Moon’s rebuttal.

“Oh, come on, that’s not even the name...”

Their petty quarrel quickly becomes background noise as your focus zeroes in on the message preview in your notifications.

[ Hey, sorry to bother you at such an hour, but I finally had time to relay your most recent proposed alterations to the client’s requested design… ]

Your stomach drops as you tap to open the message and are met with a bullet point list of complaints and questions relayed from the client through one of your colleagues. You’re grateful that your team has a dedicated customer relations department because if you had to communicate with this particular client directly, you may be out of a job.

Your mood quickly grows sour and defeated as you scan over the list of criticisms, your colleague’s addition of a sympathetic [😕] at the end of their message doing little to soften the blow. You’ve spent countless hours trying to find work-arounds and alternatives to this client's unrealistic requests, the head of your team insistent that you find a way to please them lest you cost the company a “substantial potential profit.”

Clenching your jaw, you fight to keep a level head. You fight the urge to type out a hasty response, one you know would be full of childish, whining complaints about the inconvenient timing and the client’s unrealistic demands. You then fight the subsequent urge to just turn your phone off, and maybe hurl it through a window for good measure.

“Why would we need to know that? When will we ever need to afford fifteen 2-liters of Mountain Dew and ten jugs of Tide on a tight budget?! Who shops like that?!” Sun’s rapidly rising voice is enough to finally break through your swirling thoughts. The sound of your boys arguing, as ridiculous as the topic may be, only adds fuel to your emotional fire.

You fight the urge to cry, and you fail.

Clicking your phone screen off, you curl further in on yourself and press your temple against the back cushion of the couch. Moon’s voice dies down halfway through his retort, his attention quickly drawn to your sudden display of emotion. Sun’s focus falls on you at the same time, his sensors instantly picking up on the shift in your breathing and increase in your heart rate.

Moon’s body shifts, turning toward you and leaning closer as the hand he’d had resting on your knee begins to pet up and down the length of your shin in a gentle bid for your attention.

Sun aggressively whispers to Moon as the hand he’d had resting on the back of the couch comes down to hover anxiously over your head. “You idiot, look what you did!”

Moon mirrors his hushed tone. “What I did? You’re the one being unreasonable!”

You shake your head and clear your throat before cutting in. “This isn’t… about that.”

Sun’s hand comes down to awkwardly pet down your hair as you lean away from where you’d head-butted the couch cushion. “What… is this about then? What upset you?”

You turn your head, pressing your chin against your shoulder to dry the tears that had trailed down and converged there. You internally debate over how to explain yourself before giving up shortly after, opting instead to silently pull the message back up on your phone and hand the thing to Sun for him to read.

He takes in the message’s contents with typical robotic speed before handing the phone over to Moon, an unreadable expression on his display. Moon scrolls back up, reading the list of complaints and releasing a sigh as he hands the phone back to you. “They’re being unreasonable.”

You nod in agreement, releasing a sigh of your own. “Can’t tell ‘em that, though.”

Your words hang in the air as a contemplative silence falls over the room, and it’s then that you idly note that one of them must have muted the TV at some point. With their debate over taste in entertainment quickly drawn to a close, you suddenly feel guilty. “I’m sorry…”

“What for?” Sun’s voice questions over your shoulder.

“Ruining another evening…”

Moon scoffs, his retort lighthearted with a dose of rare sarcasm. “Oh, of course! How dare you interrupt our ‘important’ television debate with your silly little real-world problems.”

You glance at him, cracking a small smile, but it doesn’t last. Sighing, you lean further back into Sun, letting your head fall back until it’s resting on his shoulder. From the corner of your periphery, you see his head pull back and tilt down to get a better look at you.

“It’s not even just this one client, it’s… I mean- it is, but… fighting over what is and isn’t possible… nowadays it just reminds me of how I fought with the team over your designs. Reminds me of all the ways that I let you down. All the ways I failed you.”

You watch a frown form on Moon’s display, and you’re about to apologize for dredging up the past again, but Sun’s hands are quick to distract you. Reaching down and around you, he takes the phone from your hand, moving slowly enough to give you time to resist his attempts should you choose to. Meeting no resistance, he cradles the phone in your lap, and watching over your shoulder, opens the message once again and begins typing out a response.

[ Please remind them that while we are always eager to please, there are certain limitations to what sorts of ideas we can bring to life. Link them to our Product Design FAQ page if you haven’t already. I’ll review their comments and look into potential alterations first thing Monday morning, when our business hours resume. Thank you. ]

Moon’s curiosity got the best of him, leaning across the length of the couch to get an upside-down look at the phone screen. Rotating his faceplate 180 degrees, he hums in approval before leaning back, head slowly completing a 360 and righting itself once again.

Sun’s thumbs pull away from the keyboard and he requests your approval in a low voice. “That sound good?”

You want to ask him why he’s helping you. You want to ask Moon why he isn’t mad. You want to ask them why you’re even still employed, why you even deserve the job you’re apparently so bad at. You want to apologize for everything under the sun.

You really want to apologize for falling into the business of playing God.

But you don’t. You re-read the message and let out a soft, resigned sigh, nodding. “Better than any response I’d be able to come up with tonight. Thank you.”

You raise a hand, tapping the send button, and then watch as Sun puts your phone on do not disturb before clicking it off once more. You point to the coffee table and he places it there, and Moon reaches for the TV remote at the same time. As you quietly readjust yourself in Sun’s hold, Moon offers you the remote with a soft question. “What would you like to watch?”

That I would be good if I got and stayed sick.

Flicking the light off, you make your way out of the bathroom and down the hall. Zero trails directly behind you, the dog insistent as always that you be accompanied on the long, arduous journey from the bedroom to the bathroom and back.

Perhaps, this time she could sense something that you couldn’t, because no more than a few steps into your short trip back, something quickly begins to feel… off. Closing your eyes and coming to a halt in the middle of the hall, you feel your stomach drop as you register the dreaded, familiar feeling of the world starting to spin around you.

Attempting a deep breath, you open your eyes and immediately regret it, disoriented and beginning to grow a bit panicked at how quickly this came over you. Muttering a soft “fuck… not again…” you reach out, placing a hand on the wall in an attempt to steady yourself. You try to at least make it back to the bedroom, but a terribly familiar hint of nausea makes itself known, and you suddenly aren’t sure if you should try for the bedroom or the bathroom.

Your body ends up deciding for you, a wave of lightheadedness teaming up with the dizzying sensation and quickly convincing you that taking a seat right where you are isn’t such a bad idea. As you slowly slide down the wall, butt thumping against the floor, you shakily call out. “Guys?”

Within five seconds, two round screens with wide digital eyes peek out from the bedroom’s open doorway. Stumbling over one another to get out of the room as soon as they see you on the floor, they question you in tandem. “What happened?!”

Clearing the short distance in a few strides to reach you, they both crouch down, one on each of your sides, Zero nervously pacing back and forth between them.

“I… I don’t know. It just hit me again out of nowhere.”

Moon’s faceplate clicks back and forth rapidly, a few degrees to the right, then a few degrees to the left. You close your eyes again, unable to look at him for long. You don’t have it in you to tell him that the motion itself is a dizzying sight. Sun seems to gather as much from his quiet observation, reaching out and roughly pinching the edge of Moon’s display, bringing the lunar bot’s anxious fidgeting to an abrupt halt.

“Vertigo?” Sun wastes no time in getting straight to the point, as usual.

You press your head back against the wall with a quiet groan. “Uhuh.”

“Can you tell us what—exactly—you’re feeling right now?” Moon questions you softly as he subtly struggles to pry Sun’s iron grip off of his head.

“Uhh… dizzy… lightheaded… getting kinda nauseous…”

Sun’s hand gravitates toward its favorite spot—that being around your neck—and since you don’t see it coming, you flinch.

He sighs, thumb finding its home on your pulse. “…It’s just me. You should know by now that I’m not gonna hurt you.”

You huff a humorless laugh in spite of your current state. “Yeah, well, I should know a lotta things by now.”

Sun doesn’t humor you with a snarky response, too focused on the current matter at hand. “Your pulse is pounding. Fast.” He’s quiet for a beat before tacking on a question. “Do you not feel it?”

You scoff. “Of course I do, Sun. I’m just used to it. It’s just doing that ‘cause I’m…” you hesitate, but honesty slips out of you rather easily in this state, “...scared.”

Concern seeps into his voice. “Of me?”

This time there’s a bit of humor in the laugh that he draws out of you. “No, Sunny… not you. Not this time.” You press the heels of your hands into the floor, searching for something grounding. “...It’s this. I’m scared of this. Whatever’s happening to me.”

Moon chimes in. “It’s gonna pass. It always does.” He places a hand on your knee. “And we’re right here. Gonna help you through it, just like always.”

You dare to crack your eyes open again, and find his screen blessedly still, light dim. “Still scares me though… don’t know why it’s happening.”

Sun retracts his hand from your neck. “We’ll figure it out. First priority is getting you situated somewhere more suitable. Do you want to go back to bed?”

You mull it over, wishing your nausea would decide to either get worse or get gone already so you could make up your mind. “I… wanna get back in bed, but… I don’t know if this nausea is gonna get worse or not.”

Sun almost shakes his head, but stops just short of it, not wanting to mirror Moon and make things worse. “You know we have a bucket dedicated to solving that very problem, so you can cross that off of your list of concerns. Besides, if it gets worse and you change your mind, we can always take you to the bathroom, easily.”

Sighing, you allow his reasoning to override your anxious, indecisive mind. “Yeah… okay. That’s fine by me, as long as you’re sure you don’t mind.”

Moon answers for both of them. “Of course we don’t.”

Sun leans back on his heels. “If that was the only thing keeping you, then why don’t we move this to the bedroom?”

In spite of your current state, you can’t help but crack a smile, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Goodness, Mr. Sun. Too eager to even buy me dinner first?”

It takes the solar bot a moment to process the implications of your words, but the way the concerned expression on his face swaps to an empty black screen is enough to tell you that he got the joke—and that perhaps—he didn’t like it.

His voice comes out deadpan as he suddenly stands, distancing himself from you in more ways than one. “Ha-ha, very funny. If you’re feeling well enough to joke around then perhaps you don’t need my help after all.”

Moon grabs ahold of Sun’s ankle as he attempts to walk away, mirroring the iron grip the solar bot had recently had on him. “Come on, Sunny, don’t be like that…”

Sun gives a sharp tug on his leg, but Moon’s grip doesn’t relent. Even without a face nor a voice, you can still sense him silently telling Moon to not test him. You know better than almost anybody that their physical strength is perfectly matched to one another. They could stay locked in a stalemate until their batteries died if either of them truly desired it.

As amusing as it may be to push Sun’s buttons, even you know when something’s about to go too far, so you make the call to break it up. “Ah, let him go, Moon. He’s put up with enough of my shit for one night.”

Moon releases his counterpart, and Sun mutters a quiet “That’s right.” beneath his breath, striding back into the bedroom.

Zero yawns into a whine.

You shakily reach a hand up to pet her and she bends down, slipping her head beneath it. Your voice is something close to jaded when you address the quiet lunar automaton still crouched beside you. “Well, now that I’ve successfully put everyone in a bad mood, I suppose it’s time for bed, huh?”

He’s his usual understanding self when he replies. “I know it wasn’t intentional, star.”

“Yeah, but… I know he’s sensitive. Should really get around to repairing that brain-to-mouth filter of mine one of these days…” You trail off, making an effort to stand, and regret it quite quickly as the world starts to spin again.

Moon’s hands brace you instantly, and a soft request fills your ears as you clamp your eyes shut again. “Let me carry you instead?”

“...Please.”

“Of course.”

The three of you make your way back to bed, and in spite of Sun’s previous statement implying he wouldn’t help you, you notice the way the room is already prepared for you. Bed sheets straightened, pillows situated, lights dimmed as low as they can go. The movie you’d paused is no longer waiting on the TV screen, the device having been fully turned off, and you know that Sun must’ve read somewhere that bright, flashing, moving images on screens can make your symptoms worse. (Who’d’ve guessed.)

He slips back out of your closet as Moon places you down in the center of the mattress, your just-in-case bucket dangling from his hand. His hands settle on his hips after he places it down near the nightstand, still-blacked-out monitor swinging slowly, surveying the room.

“Last time this happened, crackers and water seemed to take the edge off. Would you like to try that again? Do you think you can stomach it?”

He doesn’t mention his (over)reaction in the hallway, and you elect to drop it too.

“I… yeah. Guess I’ll try anything that might help.”

He’s out of the door and off to the kitchen immediately, and back with both items in hand by the time Moon gets you both settled in bed. Moon holds your water and you take the crackers as Sun takes his seat on the other side of you, Zero curling up at your feet. Your shaky hands fiddle with the packaging for a moment before black and yellow segmented fingers hover over your own. You pause, and Sun makes quick, silent work of parting the wrapper. You offer up a quiet “...thanks…” that receives no verbal reply.

A few crackers and a quarter cup of water later, you’re relieved to find your symptoms beginning to ease. It’s no magical cure, but you feel more stable than you did on your own out in the hallway, where you honestly might’ve slept had you been left to your own devices.

Two of Moon’s fingers press against your inner wrist. “Hmm… better, but not back to baseline. Are you still scared?”

You’re quiet for a minute, trying to search for the source of your fear. “Scared… that this is gonna keep happening at random, forever.”

Moon is quick to reassure you. “I’m confident that we’ll work out the root cause of these episodes one day.”

You mumble defeatedly through a mouthful of chewed cracker. “I sure fuckin’ hope so.”

Of course, it’s only once you’re content to let silence fall over the room that Sun speaks.

“You don’t need to fear it regardless. Even if this is with you forever. Because…” he releases a sigh, full of reluctance, but finishes his sentence nonetheless, “...it’s not like we’re going anywhere either.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I'll be back tomorrow with part 2! You can also find my notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. Links to the playlist and moodboard for [N]MbD can be found on this blog’s pinned post, as well as in the series notes on Ao3. Header Image Sources: x - x - x

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