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theragethatisdesire · 9 months

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cabin in the woods - eren x reader x jean - 18+!!!

part three of our polyverse woo! i wanted to write something intense for spooky season, but not like, a slasher fic, and you know eren would have the biggest primal play kink ever so here we are. the besties have been in their little poly relationship for a year and this is their anniversary trip <3 (and they're just so cute i need to put them in my pocket). enjoy what @fictional-d-supremacy and i came up with and....i don't even know what else to say. i love this one, prob in my top 3 of all time, i just love poly!erejean <3

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 9.5k (good lord)

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

*deep breath* CWs: primal play (for some people, it may read as dubcon, so please familiarize yourself with what this means, you are responsible for your triggers!), consensual sex, established relationship, use of names (pet, baby, angel, princess, slut, bitch), breeding kink, biting, fingering, oral sex (fem and male receiving), anal play, anal sex, double penetration, mlm (eren and jean are in an established relationship and kiss at one point), degradation, objectification, multiple orgasm, threesome, bi!eren, bi!jean, dirty talk, creampie, polyamory

OKAY now that that's out of the way.....have fun babies!

There’s something about the crisp autumn breeze drifting in through the open windows, twisting through Jean’s Jeep with the same rhythm as the car itself winding up the side of the mountain, that sends a vicious shudder down your spine. You try to roll your window up to fight the chill, but Eren whines from behind you and thuds a heavy boot against your seat in protest.

“You said if I let you have shotgun, we could keep the windows down the whole time.”

“It’s freezing!”

“But I get carsick,” Eren grumbles, glaring at you in the rearview mirror. Jean sighs in a tone that sounds a lot like exasperation, reaching over to turn your heated seat on.

“Better?”

“A little,” you smile softly at him, laying your palm over the warm hand he rests on your knee, “are we almost there?”

“It’s just around this corner,” Jean assures you, hazel eyes flitting back over to the gravelly, curving road. You take a moment to admire him: strong brow, regal, elegant nose, pouty lips that you know to be soft from experience. The simple knowledge that Jean is yours, yours to kiss and touch whenever you want, is enough to send a thrill through you. Your moment of adoration is cut short by Eren throwing his arms over the seat, digging his hands into your shoulders in a rough massage.

“You’re going to love this place, babe,” Eren says behind your ear. The buzzy excitement thrumming through his voice makes a small grin tug at the corner of your mouth; Eren’s moods are contagious more often than not, and he’s been miraculously cheerful all day. “Mama Kirschstein’s got the hook-up.”

“You’re still calling her that?” Jean rolls his eyes, “she’s been telling you to call her Jane for the last eight years.”

“Are you sure she doesn’t mind us coming up?” You eye Jean nervously, reaching up to squeeze one of Eren’s larger hands for reassurance. “I know she had a bit of trouble, y’know…”

“When I told her it was our anniversary, she offered us the house for the weekend. I didn’t even ask,” Jean veers left onto a narrow dirt path, “I know it took her a minute to come around, but she adores you now. I promise.”

“She’s always adored me,” Eren adds unhelpfully, ruffling your beanie and consequently wrecking your hair, “but I guess she was able to find room in her heart for the both of us.”

“Eren, stop it– ugh, thank you. What has got you in such a good mood?” You turn over your shoulder to look at him, practically brimming with energy. Eren’s always despised road trips, yet he’s been the picture of eagerness all day.

“Just excited to spend some time alone in the woods with my two favorite people, what’s so wrong with that?” Eren grins widely at you, sharp canines glinting in the early afternoon light. Something about his smile seems…not insincere, more like overly sincere. It’s not at all out of the realm of possibility for Eren to have some grandiose, ridiculous surprise waiting for you in his suitcase, or for him to simply be bouncing out of his seat in anticipation of all the weekend away, anniversary sex you’re about to have. You chalk it up to one or the other, ignoring the strangely stern look Jean shoots him.

“Oh my god!” You cover your mouth to muffle the excited squeal that comes creeping up your throat upon sight of the cabin. The “cabin” turns out to be an isolated, sprawling home with several wings, beautiful beyond your wildest dreams. Massive slabs of stone make up the columns supporting an overhang that covers a ten-foot-tall door, the garden beds on either side of the walkway have been manicured to perfection, and there’s a winding stone path that leads to the back of the house through a covered walkway that connects the main house to the garage. It’s practically been ripped out of Architectural Digest. “It’s like it’s not even real.”

“Kirschstein money always gets the panties dropping,” Eren scoffs, practically kicking his door open the moment the car rolls to a stop, “I forgot how nice this place was.”

“Shut up,” Jean grumbles, rolling his eyes at Eren before setting his adoring gaze on you, “you like it, princess?”

“I love it,” you gush, jumping out of the car to get a better look, bag forgotten in the trunk. You can hear the boys bickering about luggage somewhere behind you, but all you can focus on is the vast nothingness around you, the sleepy chirping of cicadas in the trees, and the warmly lit home that belongs to you and your two gorgeous boyfriends for the weekend. Who says no one ever had it all?

“Are you excited?” Eren comes charging up behind you, arms encircling your waist and lips pecking every square inch of your neck he can reach.

“I’m so excited,” you giggle, shoving him off so that you can run to Jean and throw your arms around his shoulders, “thank you both so much—oh, we have to call your mom and thank her! Can we? Please?”

“In a bit,” Jean chuckles, scooping you up into his arms so you can wrap your legs around his waist, “don’t you want to see the inside first?”

“Yes–”

“I don’t know, Jean,” Eren saunters over, something mischievous flitting over his face that, if you were any less drunk on raw excitement, you would know immediately not to trust, “she may want to get a look at the woods before the sun goes down. What do you say, baby? Wanna go for a hike?”

“Eren,” Jean says, a very thin note of hesitation in his tone that you, in your giddiness, stampede right over.

“Just a quick one, Jean? Is that alright?”

“However long you want, angel,” Eren answers for Jean and smiles at you charmingly, entirely ignoring Jean’s widened eyes.

“Let’s do that,” you whip your wide, happy eyes back to Jean, a pleading grin on your face, “and then you can give me a tour of the inside. I just want to get a few Instagram pictures before we end up not putting clothes on again for the entire weekend.”

Jean smiles at you, some odd combination of endearment and something darker that you can’t quite make out—pity?—crossing his face. “Anything you want. Drop the bags on the porch, Eren? I’ll take her out back.”

Eren’s grin grows impossibly wider, a little glint in his eye. “Be right there.”

After your awkward, giggle-filled struggle to monkey-climb from Jean’s front onto his back without dropping to the ground, Jean, arms hooked firmly under your legs, walks you around the house, identifying little points of interest as he goes. He points out his childhood rope swing, tattered and still dangling from one of the massive oaks in the front yard, a few flower bushes that he remembers helping his mom plant. You can feel the swell of your heart in your chest as Jean walks you through his memories, snorting to himself when he recounts the tale of Eren nearly choking to death trying to hold his breath in the hot tub and growing misty-eyed when he points out his grandparents’ initials carved into a wooden bench in the garden.

You reach a point of the property where the meticulously groomed grass gives way to fallen leaves and patches of barren earth, a visible line between civilization and nature. A small wriggle from you lets Jean know you’re ready to hop down, and he bends at the knee slightly so you can slide off of his back.

“It really is a beautiful property,” you tell him earnestly, “I can’t thank you enough for bringing us here.”

“What’s mine is yours,” Jean, in that heartbreaking way of his, looks down at you like you’re the only thing he could ever want for, “you know that.”

“Still. Thank you.” You have to consciously focus on your breathing; you wonder if Jean knows he has this effect on people, if he knows that the way raw love lays itself bare in his eyes chokes whoever’s in his line of sight.

“It’s as much a gift for me as it is for you,” Jean leans down to nip at your ear, two large hands finding their way around your waist, “I’ve got you both away from work, out in the middle of nowhere, all to myself…”

“Jean!” It comes out as a clunky, airy giggle, half of the letters still jumbled in your throat where the breath is caught. He smirks against your neck, sinking his teeth in here, licking over a sore patch of skin there. The mountain breeze follows in his wake, kissing over the wet spots he leaves behind and raising goosebumps on the back of your neck.

“Getting started without me?” Eren’s voice startles you, makes you jump in Jean’s grip. Jean responds to your flightiness by spinning you on your heels and pressing your back to his chest, arms locked firmly under your breasts and head tucked onto your shoulder.

“We were waiting for you,” you answer, letting your eyes graze over Eren appreciatively as he approaches. As long as you’ve known him, autumn has always looked good on Eren. Something about the decaying colors around him makes his eyes that much more vibrant, the glow of them in the late afternoon sun almost reminding you of a predator at night, tucked behind bushes. Big cozy flannels only make his frame look broader, and the curl of his grown-out bangs around his pink ears makes you want to pinch his cheeks.

“Didn’t look like you were waiting,” Eren eyes Jean in annoyance, but the curl of his lip gives him away.

“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Jean counters, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“Where else would I be?” You laugh, shoving him back from you. Eren and Jean’s eyes meet, some dangerous, tangible glimmer passing between them. “What?”

“Nothing, angel,” Eren whistles, spinning you around yet again and locking your shoulders underneath his arm, beginning to walk you into the woods, “don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

“I’m not worried,” you roll your eyes, letting him drag you further into the forest, “you guys are just being weird.”

“Are we?” Jean’s arm comes sneaking around your waist, “I don’t think we are. Do you, Eren?”

“Not at all,” Eren shrugs, pulling out his phone, “looks like we still have two hours til sunset. That seems like enough time for a hike, don’t you think, Jean?”

“Oh, that’s definitely enough time.”

You tilt your head up, a slight scowl indenting your forehead, flitting your eyes between the two of them. They’re hardly paying attention to you, staring at each other in a way that you’re not unfamiliar with. That explains the oddities of their behavior today; typical boys, just excited to jump into bed later. You barely contain another eye roll, instead opting to let them have their teasing fun and focus on the grandiosity of the forest around you.

The canopy is tall, taller than you would have expected; it feels like the dwindling population of leaves above your head is in a different world than the crunch of their fallen comrades under your feet. That pesky breeze is still there, keeping your nerve endings jumpy with the ever-present chill, but the warmth of the colors around you almost makes up for it. Everywhere you look seems to be on fire, yellows and oranges and reds blending the landscape together into a closer approximation to an abstract painting than a scene out of nature.

Easily half an hour ticks by as you stroll, all three of you having fallen into a comfortable, contemplative silence. You don’t miss the way Eren’s hand will occasionally drift from your shoulder to the back of your neck, ghosting over the skin and running through the baby hairs there, making you shiver. Jean follows suit, his arm around your waist slipping a bit low once in a while, palm cupping your ass and squeezing appreciatively. You ignore them both in favor of taking advantage of the beautiful scenery, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t affecting you. That familiar warmth curls in your stomach, molten and hungry, and the tips of your fingers twitch in your pockets, aching to replace the fabric that surrounds them with skin.

Eventually, you all reach a picturesque clearing with a gorgeous overhang, and you see your opportunity.

“Wait, stop right here,” you finally break the silence, squirming in the boys’ arms to snag your phone out of your back pocket, “this is perfect.”

“Instagram time?” Jean tries and fails to keep the bored tone out of his voice.

“We only have, like, five pictures together, and we’ve been together for over a year.”

“That’s not true,” Eren protests, “I have an album full–”

“How many of those pictures are share-able?” You cock a knowing eyebrow at him.

“Um, probably like…two.”

“My point exactly.”

Through a bit of manhandling and arguing over who should hold the phone, you make out with at least three usable selfies (the boys refused to entertain your self-timer idea), which far exceeds the amount of photos you expected to leave this trip with.

“Why don’t you let us take a few of just you?” Jean suggests, reaching for your phone with an honest smile and giving Eren a subtle nudge.

“Really?”

“Sure,” Eren jumps in, nodding and smiling along, “a few pictures of our pretty girl out in the woods on our special trip.”

“And it would be cute for your Instagram, right?” Jean adds, patting you lightly on the bottom.

“Okay,” you agree, too thrilled at their sudden interest in your quest for a nice Instagram post to think too much into the way Eren’s tongue swipes along his bottom lip, the way Jean’s holding your phone so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

“Just walk out that way, there you go.” You can hear Jean’s voice, with a strange little tremor to it, growing quieter behind you when Eren ushers you off in the opposite direction. You leave your phone with Jean, alternating between a little jog and a walk away from them, moving further into the clearing and keeping your back to the boys.

“Was that cute, or stupid?”

Your nervous giggle echoes in the clearing, the rustling of leaves the only answer you receive. You make a few different poses, feeling a little silly but willing to endure it in the interest of getting a couple of nice photos. You notice the distinct lack of sound around you, how for just a moment, it feels like the universe consists of just you, Eren, and Jean, alone in these woods and miles from any other human. It hits you that that’s not entirely untrue; the last house you’d seen had to have been fifteen minutes before you’d gotten to Jean’s driveway.

You call back to them, wanting at least a little feedback and, honestly, beginning to feel a bit creeped out by the uncharacteristic silence ringing in your ears. “Are they turning out good?”

Nothing.

“What the hell?” you finally whip back around to face them, stomping your foot petulantly, “are you two like, messing with me?”

When you turn to meet them, however, all the fire in your throat dies out as quickly as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on it.

Jean and Eren are smiling at you, which wouldn’t be too odd of a sight, if it weren’t for the threatening glitter in their eyes, the way Eren’s tilting his head ever so slightly to the right. You’ve never seen an expression like this on either one of them, never seen something so…dangerous cross their faces.

“Run.”

“I’m sorry?” You scrunch your nose at Eren, confused. His smile only grows wider.

“Run.”

“Run?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” Jean shakes his head disapprovingly, eyeing you down through the streaks of sunlight bleeding into the clearing.

“Forgot what?” Your words tremble as they make their way out into the still air. They’re your boyfriends, the men that wake you up with feather-light kisses and hoist you onto their shoulders at concerts, so why are your fingers beginning to shake?

“About that little book of yours we found,” Jean answers, cocking his head. “Surely you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?”

“No, I know she remembers,” Eren grits out through a clenched jaw, bristling under the soothing palm Jean runs over the back of his neck.

The memory hits you like a train. Coming home to find Jean and Eren hunched over a smutty novel of yours, blushing furiously and frowning in concentration. Confronting them only to find out they’d stumbled across the primal play chapter, that they’d noticed that these pages in particular looked a little well-worn. Jean had asked you if you would ever try it, Eren had raised his eyebrows when you admitted that yes, you would absolutely live that fantasy out if given the chance. Your face had burned as you nervously giggled, brushing the idea off in the sense that it was unrealistic to act out such a scenario in the middle of the city.

But you’re not in the city now. You’re in the forest, alone with your two boyfriends who are looking at you like they might rip you to shreds.

“No,” you murmur, so quietly that if the woods weren’t so still and silent, it wouldn’t have reached their ears, “I–I didn’t…I remember.”

“There it is,” Eren says, eyes glinting at you and arousal practically dripping off of his words as they make their way to your ears, “knew you did.”

“Weren’t lying, right? You wouldn’t lie to us, would you, pet?” Jean’s voice is steely and sharp with the implication that you had better not lie to him.

Words are lost on you amidst the thundering of your pulse in your ears, and you simply shake your head back and forth slowly. Some survival instinct from deep in the recesses of your brain tells you not to take your eyes off of them for a second, has every muscle in your body twitching. Despite the uneasy adrenaline coursing through your veins, a firm knot of arousal has taken hold in your lower stomach, simmering and spitting in excitement from the hungry looks on Eren and Jean’s faces.

“We’ll give you a ten second head start,” Eren says, dragging his eyes over your frame and licking at his bottom lip, “just to give you a fighting chance.”

“Sound good?” Jean tilts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. You know this is your moment to laugh this whole thing off, to return to the cozy interior of the cabin and put your feet up, have some hot chocolate, be kissed softly and held gently between their two strong bodies. This is Jean giving you an out, if you want it.

“Okay,” you agree, fingers fluttering nervously by your side.

“Good girl,” Jean nods approvingly, clenching and unclenching his fist, “ready?”

You nod back to him, knees shaking under your frame and a cold sweat breaking out over the back of your neck.

“Then fucking run,” Eren growls, grinning feral and wicked in the afternoon sun.

To your own surprise, you turn on your heel almost instantaneously, tearing off into the woods as fast as you can. The boots you’ve decided to wear are certainly not built for speed, but the thick soles are perfect for carrying you over the rough terrain, supporting your ankles and keeping them from twisting as you sprint through the woods.

You veer left, suddenly realizing that everything around you looks…the same. There’s no identifying markers, no path back to the cabin, no way to tell one tree full of decaying leaves from another. It brings you pause, your feet coming to a halt. It strikes you that you hadn’t been paying very close attention during your initial hike through the woods, and that even if you tried, you aren’t sure what direction will lead you back to the cabin. Eren and Jean have actually trapped you out here.

The crushing realization nearly makes your heart stop. You’re unable to suspend your disbelief enough to remember that these are your boyfriends chasing you; the only thought your brain can hold onto is that you’re being chased, and that you need to run.

The thudding of footsteps approaching shakes you out of your realization, has your feet moving at lightning speed the second you hear it. You don’t slow to look over your shoulder to see which one of them it is, just let your feet carry you far away as fast as you can manage. It dawns on you that the feeling coursing through you, bringing warmth to your face, is some unbelievable mixture of fear and arousal.

You can’t tell the color of either feeling apart, can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. Maybe they’re bleeding into each other, a symphony of passions ripping their way through every cord of muscle in your body, through every electrified nerve ending as you run away from what you want more than anything in this moment.

The footsteps behind you begin to fade, and as your breathing gets heavier and harsher, you realize you won’t be able to keep this pace; your best shot is running hard in short bursts and stopping to rest in between. You reach another clearing, much smaller than the one you had started out in, and lined with an assortment of bushes and a fallen tree. Just as you hunch over to catch your breath, you hear the return of those stomping footsteps, far behind you, but there all the same. The sharp pain ricocheting through your chest is warning enough to stop you from running again, and your eyes dart around in a panic, finally honing in on an area of the brush that looks thick enough to conceal you in your dark clothing, if you strip out of your light purple flannel.

As the footsteps draw closer, you hurriedly dive into the tangle of leaves and branches of the brush, ripping your flannel off of your arms as you go. You wince at the scrape of thorns and sticks on the soft, bare skin of your arms, but claw your way deeper, crouching down to conceal your body and twirling on your tippy-toes to peer through the leaves into the clearing.

It’s Jean, tall and imposing as he marches into the clearing. His chest is heaving under his shirt, hair mussed from running through the autumn wind. You marvel at him, so large and threatening, eyes blown wide and flicking from one area to another suspiciously, looking. Looking for you.

“Pet?” Jean whirls around, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Are you hiding from me?”

You don’t dare make a sound, positive that your heart is pounding so hard that if someone looked at your neck, they’d be able to see the frantic push and pull of your pulse through the skin. Jean surveys the area, narrowing his eyes at the brush where you’re hiding, but miraculously, turning his head the other way. You need to keep moving, especially considering that you’re so close to Jean, but with the increasingly small distance between you, there’s no way that you’ll be able to quietly sneak out of the brush. Just as you’re formulating a plan to wait and see which way he runs next, so you can run in the opposite direction, Jean’s eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch.

“Uh-oh,” Jean exhales, stepping closer to you and crouching, his grin growing darker. When his hand comes back into your line of sight, you nearly gasp, one hand flying to the naked top of your head. He’s holding your beanie, grinning down at it. Hardly another moment passes before Jean’s eyes flicker to you, darkening as soon as you make eye contact through the leaves.

“Shit,” you breathe, scrambling back onto your hands and crawling desperately through the branches and leaves behind you, grimacing as a particularly sharp thorn scratches deep into your cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jean laughs cruelly, jumping over the fallen tree trunk and towering over you as soon as you’ve escaped the brush. You stumble to your feet, but Jean’s quick, snagging you by the elbow before you can run off.

“Jean, please,” you gasp, looking up at him with wide, panicked eyes. It occurs to you that now that you’ve been caught, you’re not begging to be let go of– you’re begging to be held. Now that you’re so close to him, face to face with the shine of sweat on his collarbones, the rise and fall of his broad chest, your arousal is tangible, pumping through your veins thick like honey. You wet your lips, feeling the source of your panting move from your lungs to your core.

“Oh,” Jean’s bottom lip pushes out, “what’s the matter? Want to be my little princess again, is that it?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod frantically, looking over your shoulder and then Jean’s to see if Eren’s approaching to spoil your plan, “please Jean. Want to be your princess.”

“Aw,” Jean hums thoughtfully, cocking his head and looking down on you with pitying eyes for just long enough that you smile softly in relief, feel a rush of anticipation shoot through you. Unconsciously, you tilt your chin up, expectant and ready for him to catch you in a kiss. In the next instant, he’s gripping your arm even harder, with a jerk that makes your eyes water. “Too bad. You’re not my little princess out here.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, a clammy sweat breaking over your skin. Just as you’re about to plead one last time, Jean gives you a cruel smile.

“Eren! I’ve got her!” Jean shouts into the woods, turning his head over his shoulder to help the sound carry.

“Jean!” Your betrayal and frustration make your voice hoarse. Jean leans in to you, grinning wickedly.

“If I were you, I’d run. He’s not going to be nearly as nice as me.”

You wrench your arm out of his grasp, turning on your heel and darting further into the woods, grimacing at the feel of your wetness soaking through your panties. Jean’s footsteps are quick to catch up with you; or, at least, you think they’re Jean’s. You’re not going to break your stride to chance a look. You can’t outpace him, but you’re small and nimble enough that you think you may be able to outmaneuver him. You zigzag wildly through the trees, and it seems to be working, as Jean’s footsteps grow softer and softer behind you. Your lungs burn and your eyes water viciously, but you don’t dare relinquish the small distance you’ve managed to put between yourself and Jean, forcing your aching muscles to push harder and harder.

Suddenly, you spot it: a treehouse, with a little wooden ladder dangling from the bottom. It sounds like Jean’s footsteps are far enough behind you to afford you plenty of time to scramble up the ladder, at the very least to plan your next move. It wouldn’t be so bad if he saw you, either; the treehouse, as derelict as it may look, affords a nice sheltered spot for Jean to corner you in…

Your feet make the decision before your mind has the chance to catch up, and you’re beelining towards the treehouse, approaching it quickly. When you step on the first rung of the ladder, you feel the porous, rotten wood give a little underneath your weight, but the pounding of footsteps approaching urges you on. You make it two more steps up when one of the treacherous wooden rungs snaps under the pressure.

“Shit!” You squeal, clutching the ladder harder in an attempt not to tumble to the forest floor. You persevere, looking forward to whatever could await you if the boys were to follow you up to the treehouse. Two more steps up and you’re halfway there, but a pair of strong arms lock around your waist and pull you towards the ground with a harsh yank, ripping a yelp from your throat.

“Not a bad try,” you instantly recognize Eren’s voice, but what you don’t recognize is the rasp to it, the gravelly, dark tone, “but you didn’t really think you could run from me, did you?”

You thrash so violently that you think you must have hit him, because he drops you suddenly with a hiss. As soon as your feet hit the ground you take a few blind, wobbly steps in the opposite direction, only to run smack into Jean’s chest. You look up, wide, watery eyes blinking at Jean as your dizzied brain tries to grasp onto what’s at hand. You’re caught. They caught you.

“Going somewhere?” Jean sneers, grabbing you by your wrists and whipping you around to face Eren. The sight you’re greeted with has you squeezing your thighs together, a thick swallow sliding down your throat.

Eren’s eyes are blown wide, the bottomless black of his pupils nearly eclipsing the beautiful green you’re used to admiring. There’s a little sheen of sweat covering him, making him almost glow in the late afternoon light, and the veins in his neck are prominent with his heavy breathing. He runs his tongue over the now-split portion of his lip, courtesy of you, smearing a bit of blood over his mouth, and drags his eyes along every inch of you like he isn’t quite sure where he wants to start.

“I thought I told you to run,” Jean says, hot and taunting against the shell of your ear, “but it didn’t look like you tried very hard. Almost makes me think you wanted to be caught.”

“Of course she did,” Eren answers for you, stepping forward to run a thoughtful thumb across your cheek, making you flinch when he brushes over a cut on your face, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?”

You’re not sure what to do, whether you should nod your head enthusiastically or choke out a stuttered word of confirmation or maybe bite back; you feel frozen, overwhelmed by their looming figures and the fiery hot adrenaline still pumping through your veins. Eren decides for you, rubbing his thumb over your lips, and shoving it into your mouth. A coppery taste washes over your tongue, and you realize it’s your blood, fresh from the cut on your face. You suck his thumb in obediently, let him fishhook his thumb in your cheek, tugging your mouth this way and the other. Eren spits right in your mouth, nearly missing and splattering it all over your chin and cheeks.

“Nasty little bitch,” Eren snarls, shoving his mouth to yours.

What he does to you can barely be described as a kiss; it’s more like Eren devouring you. Teeth clack together, his tongue shoves into your mouth so violently you nearly bite down in your surprise. Eren sucks your tongue into his mouth, groaning low and hungry when you whimper.

“You taste good,” Eren murmurs hurriedly into your mouth, biting harshly on your lip and grinning against you when it makes you whine, “can taste the blood from that cut on your cheek.”

Jean stutters out a groan from behind you, his restraining grip on your wrists tightening. You feel his mouth begin to venture down your neck much like it had before, but his teeth are more demanding as they sink into your soft skin this time, more intent on taking, on marking you. One of Eren’s hands finds its way to your chest, grabbing harshly at your breast through your shirt. The ache of his strong fingers makes your back arch towards him, a breathless gasp leaving your lips.

“Show me,” Eren pants, finally backing away from you and ripping at your tank top, yanking it towards your head. There’s a shiny mixture of saliva and your blood staining his chin pink; shamefully, it makes a fresh rush of heat fly through your body, makes the wetness collecting between your thighs that much more prominent.

“We’re outside–” you try to protest, but a corrective slap to your ass from Jean shuts you up.

“No one’s around,” Jean says, mouth back on your shoulder as soon as Eren’s removed the offending garment from you, “it’s just us.”

“No one’s going to hear you scream,” Eren voices what you’re thinking with a nasty grin, bringing a hand to each of the cups of your bra and gripping the plush fabric hard enough to turn his knuckles white, tearing the connective fabric with a loud rip.

“Eren!” You squeal in surprise, practically jumping in Jean’s arms.

“That’s it,” Eren groans, leaning down and lathing his tongue across a deep cut above your right breast, something you hadn’t noticed in your fearful escape from the bush earlier, “let me fucking hear you.”

Jean’s got your wrists contained in one of his large hands, not minding the swing of your ruined bra around each of your arms, reaching his other hand around your waist to fiddle desperately with the clasp of your jeans.

“Eren,” he says sharply, drawing Eren’s attention to the fact that your pants are still on. Eren smirks.

“Pick her up,” he answers, voice gravelly. Jean lifts you off the ground, your back pressed to his chest, feet dangling in the air. Eren rips both of your boots off, tossing them to the forest floor. Still pissed about your bra, truthfully, you jerk a foot out harsh enough to hurt him if it should make contact, trying to keep your movement spastic enough to make it look like an accident. Eren dodges and looks at you murderously, returning to his full height to grab your chin harshly.

“Did you just try to fucking kick me?” His forehead is pressed nearly to yours, voice low. Busted.

“You tore my bra.” Your voice has none of the conviction you were trying to find in the depths of your chest, coming out breathy and weak. A sound that can only be described as a snarl rips from Eren’s chest.

“Yeah, I fucking did,” Eren smacks your cheek just hard enough to stun you, make sure you’re really listening to him, “we caught you. Understand that? We’re going to do what we want with you because you’re ours. Keep smarting off, and I’ll rip your panties off next and shove ‘em in that bratty mouth of yours. Got it?”

Speechless, you nod desperately, squirming as the heat between your legs begins to grow unbearable, that tacky, sticky arousal surely beginning to leak down your thighs at this point. Eren makes quick work of your jeans and your underwear, hissing appreciatively as your panties stick to the wetness between your thighs.

“You’re so wet, pet,” Jean reaches around to swipe his hand through your folds. That alone is enough to make your knees buckle, make a wanton moan slip out from your lips.

“I–I want– oh.” You try and fail to articulate a sentence, cut off entirely by a loud groan when Eren’s teeth sink into the supple skin of your breast. Eren grins around the mouthful of flesh he holds between his teeth, raising his eyebrows at how riled up you already are.

“Pitiful little thing,” Jean chuckles, voice husky, “look how bad she wants it.”

Jean reaches down and shoves two fingers straight into your slick cunt, ripping a strangled moan out of your throat. Your hips buck into his hand of their own accord, desperate, tinny whines and whimpers leaving your mouth in quick succession. The stretch of Jean’s fingers is so welcome after all the build-up, that you don’t think you could put it into words if you tried. On behalf of your useless mouth, your body makes a great show of trying to show them just how good their attention feels, rolling and rocking into their touch, no matter how harsh.

Eren digs his fingers into the fat of your hips, your thighs, your ass, gripping you close to him and biting into whatever flesh of your upper body that he can reach as hard as he can, surely coming close to drawing blood. They aren’t the type of bites that require suction and the lathing of a tongue to soothe and leave hickeys; no, these are the type of bites that bruise on impact, little purple half-moons of teeth marks decorating your arms, shoulders, and breasts.

Jean coos in your ear approvingly each time your hips cant towards his hand, seeking more and more friction as the knot in your stomach tightens with each curl of his fingers. You can feel him pressing into your lower back, hard and promising, and your pussy flutters around his fingers at the thought of being split open by him, by Eren, by anything more that they’re willing to give you.

“Want to fuck her,” Eren huffs, “she close?”

“She’ll cum soon,” Jean affirms, licking through the shell of your ear delicately. You revel in the way they talk about you as if you’re not here, as if you possess no consciousness worthy of interacting with. You feel stripped of your higher thought processes, reduced into some pathetic, pliant creature only in search of pleasure– and you love it.

“Please,” you attempt to beg, only to be silenced by Eren’s long fingers wrenching their way down your throat.

“Stop talking,” Eren grumbles around a mouthful of your flesh, “pets don’t talk, do they?”

That draws a heady whine from you, your hips twitching forwards into Jean’s hand eagerly, a blatant attempt to pull forth the orgasm that’s been brewing between your hip bones for the last five minutes. Jean chuckles at your struggles, works his fingers just a bit faster.

“Go on,” Jean whispers, “it’s just us out here. Be as loud as you want, pet. We’re going to need you good and wet, so go ahead, cum hard for us.”

“C’mon, what are you waiting for? Fucking cum already.” Eren echoes Jean’s sentiment from your breasts, licking at another smear of blood just under your nipple.

Your body thrashes in their grip, begging for and yet resistant to the overwhelming waves of pleasure wracking through it. Loud squeals escape from your full mouth, even from where Eren’s got your lips stretched wide around three of his bulky fingers.

“Let us see what you can do, pet,” Jean murmurs, thick and warm against your ear, “just for us, come on.”

With one more vicious curl of Jean’s fingers, your back is arching violently, a muffled scream echoing into the canopy of trees around you as your release hits you hard. You can feel the wetness smearing between your thighs, feel the effort Jean’s exerting into keeping you still and in one place as you buck against him. Eren growls in approval and sinks to his knees, biting harshly into your thigh before sucking your clit into his mouth. That only serves to make you fight harder, the overstimulation getting the better of you.

Eren’s only able to lap at the sensitive folds between your legs for a moment before your twitching thighs threaten to knock him in the head, jerking closed of their own accord. Eren chuckles and smacks the inside of your leg a few times, rising to his feet and smirking at you.

“You squirming? Too much?” Eren sneers, gripping your jaw in his hand and forcing you to keep your half-lidded eyes on him. You push against his grip as hard as you can to shake your head no, earning yourself a pleased glimmer amongst the darkened green of his eyes. “More? You want more?”

When you nod frantically, Eren grins so wide his canines wink at you in the setting sun, flits his gaze over your shoulder to meet Jean’s eye.

“Get her on the ground.”

Jean complies, forcing you to your hands and knees in the dirt. Something about being so exposed, bare and open for them in the ground like this, has your blood running hot in an entirely new way. Neither of them have taken so much as their outer layer off, pinning you between them like…like their little pet. You can feel yourself grow even wetter; it may as well be dripping down your thighs at this point. You hear one of them kneeling behind you, can feel the head of a cock swiping through the mess between your legs.

“So fucking wet,” Eren hisses from over your shoulder, grabbing at your hips and kneading the skin. A hand comes to your chin, tilts your head up.

“Open up, pet,” Jean says, biting into his bottom lip. Obediently, you drop your jaw, tongue out, and blink up at him invitingly, more than eager for the weight of him in your mouth. Jean groans at the sight, slipping the tip of his drooling cock onto your tongue. You swipe your tongue over the tip, eyes rolling back at the taste of salt and sweat and Jean. Jean wastes no time in pushing to the back of your throat, tapping your gag reflex.

Any hope you had of suppressing the cough that threatens you when Jean pushes into your throat is ripped away by Eren shoving himself into you from behind, pushing you an inch too far down Jean’s cock and making you retch.

“All stuffed full of cock, aren’t you?” Eren grunts, driving into you and setting a brutal pace off the bat. You’re powerless to do much else besides squeal and whine around Jean’s cock, punctuating your muffled moans with the occasional gag when Jean taps the back of your throat.

Jean spits several times into the palm of his hand, never losing his pace thrusting into your mouth. If you had any more presence of mind, you’d frown up at him questioningly, but any doubts about his intentions are resolved when he leans over you, spreading his spit over your asshole.

“I want to take her too,” Jean says to Eren, who leans down to spit directly on your only unoccupied hole, lubing you up, “get her ready.”

Eren only offers an affirmative grunt, circling your hole a few times before pushing his thumb in up to the hilt; you’d taken them both only last night, so you don’t require all that much prep, but Eren’s thick fingers are a shock all the same. You squeal around Jean, who shushes you and runs his fingers soothingly along the crown of your head. You lean into his gentle touch, only for him to tighten his grip around the tangled wreck of your hair and shove you down onto his cock harder.

“Told you you’re not my princess anymore,” Jean chuckles darkly above you, driving his hips forward to the same rhythm Eren pounds into you from behind, “not out here.”

Eren’s been busying himself preparing your asshole, up to what feels like three fingers, but with the girth of Eren’s hands, you can never be sure. To have every bit of you full and used is an out of body experience; it’s not something you don’t experience regularly with the both of them, but to be taken so brutally out in the open, to be fucked in such an animalistic way, nearly shuts your brain off.

Eren gives you a few final thrusts before pulling himself entirely from you, causing Jean to follow suit and leaving you empty and whining. You’re tugged to your feet before you can even begin to form a sentence to beg for them back, stumbling in the crunchy leaves under your feet. Eren scoops you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist to keep you firmly pressed to him.

His cock drags along the folds between your legs, and he presses his forehead to yours, short, heavy breaths leaving him in huffs.

“Ready, pet?” Eren mutters into your open, waiting mouth, “ready to take what you were made for?”

Before you can offer anything more than a half-hearted plea, Jean is pressing into you, the all-consuming stretch of him rendering you mute. Eren never stops boring his gaze into yours, something sparking and spitting and wanting in his eyes, demanding more from you. He drinks down your squeal of surprise, spreads your ass cheeks open so Jean can get at you deeper, digging into depths you rarely find yourself aware of.

“She’s still so tight,” Jean growls, sinking his teeth into your neck, smiling around the mouthful when you moan wantonly.

“Give him some more, hm?” Eren, forehead still tacky and stuck to yours, grabs for Jean’s hand, angling it under your mouth. Through your desperate little hiccups of pleasure, you understand; you spit into Jean’s hand, opening your mouth so that a thick line of drool can slick his fingers up further. Eren grins, evil and satisfied. “Good job, pet.”

Jean uses the saliva you’ve given him to wet the last few inches of himself, pushing in to the base with a loud groan. You can almost feel the tangible eye contact they exchange; they love to look at each other unraveling when they’re inside you. “Your turn.”

Eren—no, Jean?—digs his fingers into your hips, making you whimper at the thought of the bruises sure to follow his grip, slides his cock into you slowly and forcefully, like he’s proving a point. The stretch of him– no, of both of them inside you, isn’t anything new, but in this setting, after all the build-up? You’re wailing, openly, your cries echoing off the trees as you thrash in their firm hold, overstimulated and overwhelmed and overpleasured all at once.

“Sh, sh,” Jean shushes you sternly, pinning your head back against his shoulder with a firm fist to the nape of your neck, “take it, don’t fight it.”

“Feel so fucking good, pet,” Eren says gruffly, giving a tentative half-thrust and making all of you moan, “like you’re fucking made for taking cock.”

“She is,” Jean coos, beginning to rock into you in the same easy rhythm as Eren, “just look at her. Not one thought behind those pretty eyes.”

He’s right; your eyes have glazed over entirely, mouth hanging ajar as they take and take and take from you. You can feel an orgasm quickly taking shape in the pit of your stomach, wrapping around itself and squeezing, threatening to pull you under. You’re so blissed out you can’t even be sure of what you’re feeling. Full, exposed, primal, half-conscious; all of those words surely would make the list if you could pull any of them to the front of your mind at the moment.

Your thighs are quivering around Eren’s waist, tightening viciously around his hips as they drive into you, suspending you between two walls of hard muscle. You know your cunt follows suit when Eren groans loudly, jaw dropping slightly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Slutty little thing,” Eren grunts against you, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Jean, “begging to get your cunt filled like a bitch in heat.”

“That is what you want, isn’t it?” Jean practically whispers into your ear, words wrapping around the knot in your stomach and holding it together, “want to get bred, don’t you, pet?”

Eren’s eyes go wide for just a moment, his gaze fixated on Jean. You can feel him pause briefly, twitch inside of you, and then before even a full second has passed, Eren’s determined scowl has twisted his face again, and he’s hammering into you like his life depends on it.

“Is that what you want?” Eren demands of you, eyeing you.

“Tell him,” Jean says to you, like the devil on your shoulder, “tell him how badly you want it. Go on.”

“I–I–” The tears running down your face collect in your mouth, making you hiccup and spit and choke on your words. Eren grabs your face fiercely, forcing you to look at him.

“Say it,” Eren snarls, “tell me you want this slutty pussy stuffed full of cum, our cum.”

“I want your cum,” you whimper pathetically, words stuttering and tripping as they spill from your swollen lips, “want to be full of it, want to get bred.”

“Fuck,” Eren nearly throws his head back, somehow moving his hips faster. Your legs dangle uselessly beside him; every muscle in your body contracts and relaxes wildly as your orgasm sinks its claws into you, threatens to pull you under. The only things tethering you to your body at this point are Eren’s eyes on you, bright and feral, and Jean’s hands around your hips, keeping you in place for them to pound into. You can feel the tidal wave coming up in your throat, your moans and whines growing more and more frantic, your head feeling lighter with each passing moment.

“Such a good girl– good little pet for us,” Jean slurs, hips beginning to falter in their rhythm, “show us how bad you want our cum, let us feel you–fuck–”

“So fucking good,” Eren laughs almost hysterically as you finally snap and cum around them, slapping your face lightly and egging you on, “there she goes.”

Every nerve ending in your body feels like it’s on fire, little shocks of electricity flying down your limbs and making you jerk and flail and contract. You can feel your fingers digging into the skin of Eren’s biceps until they meet something wet and warm, and you know you’ve drawn blood, but you’re spiraling through rapturous pleasure so intensely that you couldn’t release your grip if you tried.

The way you tighten viciously around them has Jean falling over the edge right after you, his hips stuttering and coming to a still pressed against you. He tugs your face to the side, pulling you in for a sloppy, honestly disgusting, kiss, panting heavily into your mouth and mouthing around praises that he’s too spent to fully pronounce. You can feel Eren’s eyes on you both, feel the way his thrusts are starting to grow more frantic. Jean turns your face to meet Eren’s gaze, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Look at her, Eren,” Jean shakes your face a little for emphasis, “needs cum in both her holes, not just one.”

As if to emphasize his statement, Jean pulls out of you, a gush of his cum joining the mess between your legs. Eren throws his head back and groans, nods urgently.

“Said we’d stuff her full, right? Breed her? That’s what she wants, isn’t it, pet?” Jean sneers, landing a smack to your cheek.

“Uh-huh,” you babble mindlessly, body trembling with the force of the aftershocks of your orgasm, “p-please Eren, breed me, I need it–”

“Gonna cum in you,” Eren pants, grabbing your hair so hard you wince, “can you take it? Take all of it ‘til you’re bred and full of me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, nodding against him, “yes, please, I–”

“Give it to her,” Jean’s fisted his hand at the nape of Eren’s neck now, pulling all of you so close that you’re drinking down each other’s breaths, “she’s worked so hard for it, give her what she needs.”

That’s all it takes; Jean’s encouragement has Eren spilling inside you with a lengthy, choked groan. With what little energy you have left, you pepper soft kisses along his neck, knowing how his muscles must be burning with how they’re twitching under his skin. Eren’s fingers are digging into you so hard it hurts, already aching, but you let him cling to you, ride out his orgasm as Jean threads his fingers through the hairs at the base of Eren’s neck soothingly.

You all stay this way for a moment, Jean supporting the majority of your body weight as Eren begins to sag into you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. The breeze swirls by, leaving cold kisses on every inch of your bare skin, reminding you that you’re out in the open, making you miss your sweater.

“Guys?” You speak feebly into the crisp air, blinking sleepily.

“Holy shit,” Eren laughs breathlessly into the crook of your shoulder, pulling you close to him in a sticky hug, “that was–”

“Crazy,” Jean agrees with a disbelieving chuckle, helping you down onto your shaky legs.

“I am…very naked.” You point out weakly, swaying on your sore thighs. Jean’s quick to slide an arm around your shoulders and tug you to him, while Eren wrangles his hoodie over his head to offer you.

“There’s not another house for five miles in either direction,” Jean assures you, lifting your arms so that Eren can pull his hoodie over you, “wouldn’t ever let anybody see you like this, you know that.”

“Better?” Eren, still a little winded, tugs the hoodie down around your thighs, looking you over. He swipes a thumb across the cut on your cheek, an impish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We really roughed you up, didn’t we? I’m sorry, angel.”

“I liked it.” Your eyes are already falling shut; you barely have the energy for a sleepy smile when Eren presses his lips to your hairline. Jean scoops you up into his arms; all the cardio that he does at the gym is making itself known.

“Was it good, princess? Have fun?” Jean murmurs against your forehead.

“So much fun.” You open one eye to see Jean and Eren glance at each other, see the spark of love between them. It comforts you; even amongst the near-constant shivers wracking through your body, the warmth of their presence and the steady rocking of Jean’s steps lull your eyes shut.

“Thank god she ended up running just about to the backyard,” Eren huffs from somewhere to your right, still sounding very much like he hasn’t caught his breath, “I’m fuckin’ beat.”

“It’s because you don’t do enough cardio, bro.” You can hear Jean’s insistent eyebrow raise and visualize Eren’s answering eye roll, chuckling to yourself in Jean’s arms.

“Cardio’s for bitches, I’m bulking right now–”

“Did you listen to anything the team trainer said in college? Honestly–”

“That was three years ago–”

Somewhere amongst their arguing you doze off, letting yourself go limp in Jean’s arms. When you wake again, Jean’s walking you up a flight of stairs, angling you this way and the other to avoid hitting your head on the railing. Jean flits his eyes down towards you and acknowledges your consciousness with a soft smile, carrying you into a bedroom and sitting you on the bed. Wordlessly, Jean and Eren go about their usual routine of cleaning up after a particularly rough session: Jean runs a bath while Eren fetches some antiseptic for the scratches on your face and arms, Eren nearly gets distracted when you start running your fingernails through his hair but Jean gets you both back on track, somehow fitting all three of you in the largest bathtub you’ve ever seen.

Before you know it, you’ve been scrubbed clean, all the grime gone from your skin and the twigs pulled from your hair, and sandwiched between Eren and Jean under a heavy duvet.

“All better, right?” Eren murmurs against your forehead, pressing a kiss to it.

“All better,” you hum, nuzzling into his chest, “but I don’t want to waste the weekend. We’re only here until Sunday– do we really need to nap?”

“I threw dinner into the smoker while Eren was drying you off,” Jean says, words floating over your shoulder from where he’s curled up behind you, “we have at least two hours ‘til it’s cooked through properly.”

“And you need a nap,” Eren grins mischievously, “you had a big afternoon.”

“I’m not the only one,” you giggle up at him, “I heard you wheezing on the walk back.”

Eren scowls, only to have the furrow in his brow smoothed over by Jean’s thumb. You watch in awe as he instantly melts into Jean’s palm, such a volatile man so easily soothed by a gentle touch. As Eren’s mood begins to settle, you feel the atmosphere in the room change; the blankets feel just a bit heavier, the rise and fall of Jean’s chest against your back quells your breathing into the same rhythm, and the circles Eren’s thumb is rubbing into your hip have your eyes beginning to flutter.

“Naps for all three of us,” Jean says, leaving no room for argument, "I set an alarm. I won’t let you sleep through the weekend, I promise."

Something about the warmth and familiarity tucked under the covers with the three of you has your mind ambling on towards sleep, even after your weak attempts to protest. As you drift off, you can hear the quiet, wet noises of Jean and Eren exchanging a goodnight kiss above your head, feel the reassuring squeeze of their arms around your waist, the brush of lips against the nape of your neck, the tip of your nose. There’s a little murmured “I love you” from each of them, and though your mouth wants to form the words to respond, all you’re able to manage is a soft, contented smile as you drift off.

603 notes · View notes

marleyybluu · 10 months

Text

Boy, Bye

Spooky x black!fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: 18+, smut central (with plot), flirting, mentions of drinking and drug use (relax it's just weed), smoking and driving (but don't be this stupid), Spooky being a nervous boy at the end, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap that bitch up we don't need any more crotch goblins jk), creampie because I'm a sick bitch, Spanish nicknames as usual, probably misspelling bcus I was high as shit writing this. lmk if i missed anything

A/N: This was inspired by Boy, Bye by Ari Lennox, her album age/sex/location is a banger I have rediscovered it and the idea hit me like a brick. I do wanna say I don't mention the readers skin tone or anything but she is a black woman bcus i mentioned a fresh set of braids. and black women should be the only ones wearing box braids, wigs, etc... in case yall forgot :)

Not my gif.

The distinct chatter of club patrons droned out of your ears as a persistent ringing replaced it. You sat at the bar, your back turned to counter and your elbows planted firmly on the surface. Just minding your business. Drinking your rum and coke.

"You look sweet like mangoes." A very hot and unwarranted breath invaded your space and it was a reminder as to why you didn't want to come out in the first place. Men were gross, they ruined everything with catcalls and what they think are sweet pickup lines. You turned your head to look at him, he flashed a drunken smile— his teeth crooked and filled with whatever he'd eaten before he got here. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the crowd.

He wasn't the first to approach you tonight, especially since you dispersed from your group to sit at the bar, your feet killing you from the stupid but cute heels you wore. "Sweet like mangoes huh?" You reiterated. He nodded leaning in closer as you leaned away. "Yeah. I know."

The man chuckled at your lack of a 'thank you.'

"Now why are you acting like that? Hm? A man can't get to know you?"

You wrapped your lips around your straw and sipped obnoxiously but he wasn't budging. "A man whose leftovers aren't in his teeth can get to know me." You bit. The man leaned back in disbelief, your comment seemingly sobering him up. "Well, fuck you then bitch."

You raised your glass. "You wish you could." That added fuel to the fire and he stormed off like a pissed off toddler. You smiled taking the last sip of your drink, turning around to place it on the bar, you needed a bit of time before you ordered another, might be the last before you go home. You hopped off the stool and grabbed your purse heading to the restroom, surprisingly there was no line but a few girls were hogging the vanity reapplying whatever makeup had come off. You shuffled inside the small stall and propped your purse on the hook of the door.

Once you were done handling business the women had disappeared and you had the sink to yourself, you washed your hands and dried them off with the paper towels provided, and you checked yourself out flipping your fresh braids to the side finding that was cuter than just having a middle part. When you were satisfied you headed back out putting a little pop in your hips. On your way back to your spot you noticed a man, a young man maybe about your age, sitting in on the seat next to yours. You shrugged and headed over anyway hopping back up without saying a word.

You pulled out your phone and noticed a notification from the group chat, one of the girls asking if you were okay and where were you. As you typed you remained oblivious to the stranger next to you, unaware of the little glances that he took at you. He tipped his head back as he drank from his Corona, you sighed putting your phone down. "You're good?" He asked, genuinely, to your surprise. You looked over at him and nodded. Your eyes analyzed whatever you could see in the shitty and low lighting. The first thing you noticed was the shaved head, not really your thing but it was cute on him, his bushy eyebrows raised in interest watching you examine him. He sported a small moustache and a goatee, the sides were clean-shaven, his slim and aquiline nose complimented him as well and with a nose like that, you wondered how the rides were on that face.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked breaking the silence, you'd accept it, telling him thanks and allowing him to wave over the bartender. You remembered seeing a whiskey sour on the little drink menu and ordering that while he ordered another Corona. He smiled at you, his cheeks so high it made his eyes squint, and you tugged at your bottom lip. "Don't worry I don't have any corny ass pickup lines like the rest of these putos." He reassured. You playfully dismissed him. "Eh, they aren't so bad." Lies.

He turned himself in the stool, his whole body facing you-- one leg on the footrest of the seat and the other on the floor. Your eyes involuntarily dropped down to his lap and quickly back up to his eyes. "Yeah? So, how come you pushed 'em all away?"

He'd been watching you?

"'Cause none of them bought me a drink." You flirted. "Oooh, so that's why I haven't gotten dissed yet?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"I can respect that."

Your drinks arrived and you thanked the bartender. He raised his bottle. "Salud."

"Salud." You copied. You took a sip and shook your head, damn that really is sour. He snorted at the way your face contorted. "Don't like it?"

"Didn't expect it to be that sour."

"I could get you a different drink."

You passed. "It's okay, I can handle it. Plus I wouldn't want one of your little girlfriends seeing you buy me more than one drink."

He rolled his eyes bringing his drink to his lip, "No girlfriends over here."

"Surprised."

"Why?"

You set your whiskey sour down and boldly stated, "You're way too fine to be alone." He turned his head away from you, a warm feeling spreading across his face but he couldn't let you see it. "Thanks, mamita." He responded turning back to your direction. "You sure your man won't fight me for buying you one? 'Cause I can put up a good fight cariño."

You tilted your head to the side, smitten. "No boyfriend's over here."

"Good to know."

— — Your once drastic and boring night was starting to look upward. Spooky, you found out to be his name, was good conversation. Yeah, he threw a corny line here and there but you actually liked them coming from him, he wasn't trying too hard he was just being playful.

Your eyes landed on the imprint on his neck, a crucifix tilted on its side with the name Santos etched down the middle. "Los Santos... hm are you?"

"Am I what?"

You leaned into him your hand finding its way to the side of his neck and gently dragging your nails on his inked skin. "A saint."

His eyes focused more on your lips. "More of a sinner." He mumbled. You giggled tipsily. "Boy, bye."

The DJ had announced it was the last song of the night, you looked at your phone reading 3 AM, your plans to leave early had been disrupted in the best way. Spooky noticed your attention detour. "Ready to go home?"

You sighed now not wanting the night to end. "Guess so."

"I could drop you home."

Your eyes sharpened, you didn't know him... but, fuck, you liked him enough to almost agree to it. "I don't know if I want a sinner dropping me home."

He put his hand over yours, the contact sparked a warm feeling in your lower belly. He guided your palm to his chest. "I'll be a saint,cielito, don't worry."

You laughed wholeheartedly. "That was so fucking lame."

"Made you laugh though."

It did.

You agreed to take the ride and while he paid for the drinks you texted the group:

Y/n: got a ride home ;) I'll talk to you bitches tomorrow.

They gassed you up for any potential activity tonight and hoped that you'd get home safely. Spooky got off first and held his hand out to help you down, he didn't let go as he led you through the crowd, he met up with the boys you assumed he came with and dapped them up with his free hand, his other one never letting go of yours.

Soon, you two were out the door, you lowkey stumbled through the parking lot, alcohol and heels were never a good combo. He helped you though. And you two arrived in front a Red Impala, your mouth twitched with fascination. "Nice car." You blurted out. "Thanks ma, worked on it myself."

"Damn, he's cute and a mechanic? You sure no one is crazy over you?"

He opened the door for you. "No, just you."

"I'm not crazy, yet." You pointed before sliding inside. He closed your door and headed over to his side. Your body was full of tingles, the feeling reaching your toes but you didn't know if it was the buzz from your drink or if it was him. Either way, you were enjoying this.

Spooky pulled off. You sighed and smiled lazily throwing your head back, you were floating— your body felt like it was flying through space. "You smoke?" He asked, you heard a lighter flicker and you shook your head. "I do, but I can't take anything else right now."

He shrugged and inhaled the THC, he reached for the dial on his stereo and turned up the volume, the music he was playing earlier resuming its beat. Sierra Leone by Frank Ocean serenaded your ears. "I love this song."

You hummed along to the slow tune. Spooky caught you in the corner of his eye, he smiled. He enjoyed the show and the company until he pulled up to your neighbourhood and into your driveway. You groaned, did he really have to go?

You notice him turn the car off. "You're not coming inside you know."

He smirked. "Don't worry, I'm just taking you to the door at least."

You slightly frowned, he left you for a few seconds before your door opened and he offered his hand once again. You successfully landed on your feet, your hand moulded with his and now it was your turn to lead him. Up the steps. You fumbled with your keys until you found the correct one, you felt nervous under his gaze. Those low eyelids undressing you, you just knew it. Your key slid into the slot and turned it unlocking your door. "Thanks... for the ride."

"No problem, ma." You looked up as he towered over you. His energy pulled you in, you were drunk but you weren't that drunk. Maybe he could come in for a little bit.

— — Clothes spread across your bedroom floor, the sheets sliding off the bed like melted cheese. You two were in a tangle of limbs, naked bodies pressed against each other, his nose brushed yours as he planted the softest kiss on your lips. Your hands flew to his flushed cheeks pulling him in with eagerness and at the same time, his slender finger running over your blue panties. You smiled against his lips. His kisses were so warm and passionate.

He used his fingers to tug at your panties, hauling them to the side. You whined feeling him run them between your wet folds, collecting and salivating your juices. He toyed with your clit, slowly and steadily, your hips bucking up to chase his touch. Ending your short misery a finger entered your heat, you gasped in the middle of your kiss and your eyebrows knitted together, your face reading 'finally.' You smiled hazily against his lips once he pulled it out and plunged back in with an additional finger. "Fuuuuck."

He skillfully curled his fingers up hitting that spongey spot, that sweet spot. You squirmed under him with pleasure and anticipation... desperation, for more. You sat up on your elbows looking down and seeing his fingers work their magic on you, your mouth fell open, pushing your hips forward once again. You just wanted more.

You looked back up at him. "You're so pretty when you make that face, cariño." He complimented. The heel of his hand brushed against your pulsing clit, you clenched around his fingers causing a smirk to appear on his face. "S-shit, please."

"Please what mi amor?"

For once, you were in no mood for foreplay, you were very slick and sticky with arousal. "Just fuck me, please."

He smiled shaking his head at your earnest request, he continued his teasing assault on your sweet spot, his lips connecting to your neck, your eyes rolling at the immense pleasure you were receiving. Your hand on the back of his neck holding him in place. "Yes... oh... yes!" He was pulling your orgasm closer and closer, your hips raised off the mattress. "I thought you just said you wanted me to fuck you?"

"I-I do."

"Doesn't seem like it now." He evilly chuckled. The sound of your pussy juice and your frantic whimpers went straight to his dick, his growing erection poking at your leg. "I'm gonna cum." You wept. Spooky slowly pulled out his fingers leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, you groaned glaring at him. He winked wrapping his lips around the fingers that were just inside you, he licked off your essence until his fingers were clean. You giggled dropping your head on the pillow.

Spooky pulled off his boxers and his dick sprung out with a wet thud once the tip hit his lower abdomen, fuck he was so hard, you drooled at the sight spreading your legs further apart. He wrapped his hand around his girth sliding his tip between your soaked folds before carefully pushing his length inside you. Your voice broke at the feeling of him against your gummy walls, enveloping every inch he had to give you. Your bottom lip finds comfort between your teeth, your head tipped back and your toes curled. His sack hits your ass as he bottomed out. Filled you to the brim.

Spooky held his position, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. His warm hands find solace on the back of your thighs, sliding up to the crook of your knee. You felt as he pushed your legs back, your knees touching your chest. He pulled his hips back and pushed them forward flush against your pelvis his coarse curly hair at the base of his shaft brushing against your clit, an additional sensation.

Your hands wrapped around his wrists as he rocked into you, giving you strokes you've never felt in your life. Your mouth fell open, breathless whispers leaving your throat, egging him on about how well he stretched you, how full you felt with him inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That feels so-o good."

Spooky smirked looking down at you, your various love faces so beautiful being contorted with pleasure. He leaned down, your legs now planted on his shoulders, he kissed your nose and then forehead before pressing his against it. There was a mix of sounds-- his grunting, your erotic moans and the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls, if you lived in an apartment they'd probably knock on the wall to complain.

You could feel yourself leaking, dripping, onto the sheets and coating his dick in your desire. "You're so fucking pretty when you're taking me, princesa. Eres muy guapa." He groaned, your head fell back, your high carefully approaching once again. Your nails left crescent shapes on his skin. "Shit! I like being inside you, you're so fucking wet, bebita."

Your walls constantly fluttered around him. He hissed and you smirked. "I know you feel that, fuck, I'm gonna cum for you."

His hand slipped between sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit once again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, his teeth nibble at your jaw. "Right there! Uh-huh, right fucking there!" Spooky pounded into you, hard yet maintaining rhythm. Your eyes are glossy with incoming tears, the overstimulation of it all. "Fucking squeeze me, mamita. I got you, cum on this dick."

His words tip you over and your body tenses up and your eyes fall into the pit of your skull. He felt every pulsation of your orgasm, his tip constantly hitting your spot. He held up his weight, his hands rested on your lower back fingers gripping your ass cheeks. His thrusts became sloppier as he helped your ride out your orgasm and his quickly approaching. "Oh my god," You hazily giggle. "Fuck! Yeah, use me to get yourself off, please. Cum wherever you want, baby, give it to me."

Spooky pushed in one more time, you faintly smiled at the feeling of his warm spend squirting inside of you. You were both out of breath, Spooky leaned back and sat on his knees with his softening dick still buried inside you. He helped take your legs off his shoulder and you mumbled in pain. "Shit... I mean I didn't expect you to actually fold me."

He laughed. "I said I was gonna do it." He spoke in reference to his warning earlier when you lured him into your house. He leaned down once again to give you an affectionate kiss. "You feeling okay?"

"More than okay." You confessed. "Good," He kissed your nose before pulling out, you almost pouted at the loss. "You're okay if I grab some water?"

You nodded telling him there were bottles in the fridge, he shot you a thumbs up and put on his boxers before he left, once he was out of your sight you let out a big sigh of relief and a very bright smile was sure to follow. You felt so giddy, butterflies were making their home in your nervous system. What the fuck was this feeling?

Spooky grabbed two bottles and made his way back upstairs, offering you one. You thanked him and sat up as carefully as you could. You caught a prideful smirk on his face. "Don't start." You warned him, he put his hands up in defence.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked out of the blue. "Not much, why?"

"Uh, I'm not one to overstep my boundaries and it's up to you, really, but do you want to get something to eat?"

You nodded. "Of course. Any places in mind?"

"There's a... breakfast bar... downtown." He sounded more nervous with that statement. You blushed. "Breakfast? Oh, so you want to spend the night with me, Spooky?"

He suddenly felt like an idiot, he was very much a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits person but with you, he kind of wanted to see if this could go somewhere. "If that's cool with you."

You set your bottle down on the nightstand, you smiled propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You crawl over to him and kiss his temple, you go down to nibble his ear and whisper; "If you keep fucking me like that, I just might have to keep you."

He shivered, his dick jumped at the thought alone. Quickly the roles were reversed back his fingers intertwined with yours as he put you on your back.

"I better get to work then."

If you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

peace and love, see you in the next one.

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit

if i'm missing any tags or if you'd like to be tagged in any upcoming fics let your girl know.

#Spotify #oscar diaz #spooky #spooky x black!reader #oscar diaz x fem!reader #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #smut #oscar diaz smut #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions

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mossy-rock-in-a-field · 6 months

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My Elderly Mother Plays Baldur's Gate: Part 3

(For those who missed it, my mom is having me play Baldur's Gate for her because she's not good with controllers but she still wants to smooch Gale, set things on fire, and see the story. For Part 1 and 2 of her adventure, click here.)

Yesterday my mom wrapped up Wyrm's Crossing and finally made it to the Lower City. I told her that this is the part of the game where the decisions start getting a little harder and morally grey, but she didn't really believe me. Eheheheh.

Here's how Act III is going for her:

Something I forgot to mention in my previous post is that my mom reads every line of Tav’s dialogue out loud so she can pretend like she’s actually conversing with the characters. I have to time the dialogue selections so the NPCs respond to her at just the right time for immersion purposes. She gets a kick out of it.

Upon finding a sachet of silkroot in a smuggler’s cave and being informed it was essentially drugs, her first question was: "Can we sell these drugs?" I asked her where this energy was when I was a teenager, and she said, "The economy of Baldur's Gate needs to be supported." We did, in fact, sell the drugs.

She always stops to talk to Withers and recite “fate spins along as it should” in a silly voice. She also does Withers’ little hand gesture with it because she thinks it’s funny. We both say it together now. It's not relevant, I just think it's precious.

I asked her if she plans on killing Gortash to save Halsin from Orin but she said, “Sacrifices need to be made, dear. Desperate times!” (I guarantee she'll try to save Halsin anyway; she really likes him, but she's super scared of Orin. Probably why she's toying with the idea of killing Orin first.)

I wish I could describe the face she made when THAT scene with the Emperor showed up. It was somewhere between horror and blatant confusion. I honestly couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard. (She turned him down, obviously.)

She has made a pros and cons list in her Baldur's Gate journal for both Gortash and Orin. So far, Gortash is winning because my mom really dislikes Orin and thinks she's spooky. I honestly have no idea who she'll kill first at this point.

My mom had Astarion rob the donation box beneath the Stormshore Tabernacle (which contained our fucking donations so idk if it’s robbing or just taking back our stuff). However, she got the “castigated by divinity” curse, and when Shadowheart removed the curse at camp, a big celestial popped out of Astarion and proceeded to murder Gale in his tent. My mother was very distraught; I was crying laughing.

We left off at Lorroakan's office last night; my mom is coming back over today so she can watch Dame Aylin break his bitch body in half and do a bunch of other stuff.

I'll keep you guys updated on her crimes!

#my mom plays baldur's gate 3 #she's having a blast you guys #bg3 #baldursgate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #gale #gale of waterdeep #astarion #shadowheart #dame aylin #enver gortash #bg3 gortash #orin the red

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esamastation · 8 months

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Part forty-two of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one

The Turks have arranged everything. Sort of. The charcoal burner's house is long abandoned and remote, not close to any main routes, so it would be private. In the books, both Sephiroth and Angeal are taking part in a classified mission with the Turks, which has been approved by both the Director of the SOLDIER program and the Acting Director of the Turks. It would take someone higher up in the Public Security Department to delve deeper than that, and since the President had already given his seal of approval, there's not much even Heidegger can do about it.

"And Rude is bringing everything we'll need to survive," Reno finishes. "Starting today, your priority is sorting out whatever is going on with you, free of distractions, external stressors and hopefully of further incidents."

Sephiroth still seems to be stuck on the getting his shit together part of the mission and apparently isn't sure whether to be insulted or not.

Angeal clears his throat. "And what are we supposed to… do, exactly?"

"Hell if I know," Reno shrugs and nods at Sephiroth. "Figure you'd sort it out by yourself, with your new spooky… whatever it is you got going on. You seem to have some idea."

"Uh," Sephiroth answers.

Eloquent.

Angeal runs a hand down his face. Then he laughs. "Okay, I have to admit. I'm impressed. I didn't really think you'd do anything, but - I'm impressed." And more than slightly intimidated by the connections and liberties the Turks have, but that's not exactly new. "How long do we have?"

"Until further notice, or until someone back in Midgar gets antsy," Reno shrugs. "I'm thinking maybe don't worry about time. If you need more, we will arrange some."

Huh. "This is really that important, then?"

Reno gives Sephiroth a look and then looks at Angeal. "Yeah," he says, a deceptively easy answer.

That's… somehow a little disconcerting. Certainly Sephiroth is invaluable to the program and to the company, but this… this is beyond VIP treatment.

"I see," Angeal murmurs and clears his throat.

Sephiroth finally shakes himself loose from his surprise, enough to look first somewhat sheepish - and then intrigued. "So, I can do whatever I want here?"

"Pretty much," Reno agrees, without any care for how alarming the question is. "And if you need something to further your whatever, we'll get it for you."

"Nice. And there will be no other missions if I don't want to do them right now?" Sephiroth asks.

"You can do them or not as you'd like - none of them have higher priority than this, and they can be delegated to other people, if it comes to that."

Sephiroth runs a hand over his chin. "And if I want access to some material that might be to some extent classified?"

Reno narrows his eyes. "Like what?"

"Haven't decided yet," Sephiroth answers flippantly. "But it might come up."

"... Great. We'll review case by case when we come to it," Reno mutters. "Though you know it's a bitch to get stuff shipped here, right? We're on another continent."

"Yes, yes, it's very impressive," Sephiroth says dismissively and thinks about something for a moment. Then he looks at the charcoal burner's house with a discerning eye. "And you'll be staying here too?" he then asks, glazing at Reno. "To watch us?"

Reno shrugs, unapologetic.

Sephiroth eyes him for a moment and then turns back to the house. "Very well. It will do."

"... Awesome," Reno says and motions. "Go, make yourselves comfortable or whatever. I'm going to walk the perimeter and set some traps."

"Mmhmm," Sephiroth answers, already striding back into the house with a proprietor's casual confidence, and Angeal can just imagine the furniture soon to be rearranged inside.

He hesitates before following and looks at Reno. "What is this really about? It's not just that Sephiroth lost control, is it?"

Reno considers him. "Well, duh, no," he says. "It's the stuff he's been saying in between."

And the abilities he seems to be on the verge of developing. "What's the official view on what's happening to Sephiroth?" What are they expecting from him?

"There isn't one," Reno says and arches his brows meaningfully, and then turns to go.

Angeal's face tightens, and he knows he probably doesn't understand the implications… but then maybe he does. All this effort and all the stuff that's been going on… whatever it is, the company is looking forward to benefiting from it greatly. And they want no one messing with what is happening before they do.

Angeal thinks of the moment Sephiroth communed with the old tree the day before, and for a moment he really wishes it was Genesis here with him instead. Genesis would actually know how to handle all of this. Angeal isn't even sure if he can ask Genesis about this, if he can talk to him about this!

Never mind the fact that Genesis probably has his hands full with whatever is happening back at Shinra Building… the aftermath of Sephiroth's incident and whatever Professor Hojo was doing…

Angeal turns to head inside.

… Where Sephiroth has begun poking around the house, and, of course, is already moving furniture around.

"I see you are all for this," Angeal comments.

"I'll take all the extra time I can get," Sephiroth mutters while carrying a little table to the middle of the main room. "Though I am not exactly happy about being under Turk supervision, I'll take it over the alternative."

Angeal hums, looking around and then deciding that Sephiroth probably doesn't need - or want - his help in decorating. "What's the alternative?"

Sephiroth grimaces and goes to move a bookshelf.

Okay then. Ominous. Angeal sighs and sets the Buster Sword down to lean against the wall near the door, right beside Masamune. "You know they expect something to come from this. For you to… to make it worth their while."

Sephiroth half laughs and half scoffs. "I just bet they do," he agrees and picks up somewhat dusty cushions and considers them with a frown.

Angeal folds his arms. "Are you going to?" he then asks, worried.

Sephiroth pauses and looks away, dropping the cushions by the table in the middle. "No," he says finally. "I don't imagine I will. Regardless," he shakes his head. "This is the next best thing to a full-on seclusion, and I am damn well going to make the most of it."

Angeal doesn't know what that means, but it doesn't matter. "Okay," he says and draws a breath. "Guess we'll… just stay here for the time being, then."

Sephiroth hums in agreement. "Guess so. Does it bother you?"

"No more than anything else around Wutai," Angeal admits and looks up at the ceiling. "We were already looking forward to a prolonged stay in someone's abandoned home. This place is honestly an improvement."

Sephiroth relaxes a little. "Yeah. And hey, the people here weren't chased out or killed by Shinra. That's something."

Angeal looks at him curiously. "How do you know that?"

"The original owner left a scrap piece of letter behind. Apparently they were invited to the capital," Sephiroth says.

… Sephiroth reads the Wutai language? Huh. Angeal didn't know that.

"I guess that's good to know," he says and then sighs. "Okay, so. This… thing you're doing. Your energy alignment stuff. Is there anything I can do to help? What do you need?"

Sephiroth hesitates between moving some jars around and looks at him. "I need a proper cleared training area," he says and offers him a wry smile. "At least as big as the training room back at Shinra Building."

"I can do that, yeah," Angeal says. "Anything else?"

Sephiroth thinks about it for a moment before setting the jars back down. "I'll let you know."

Angeal nods and gets to it. There's not much he can do when Sephiroth refuses to trust him, but… he'd do what he could.

Hopefully by the end of it, it would be enough.

Time for a training montage.

#Fanfiction #ffvii #Ff7 #svsss #angeal hewley #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #reno of the turks

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charmedreincarnation · 9 months

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TW: SA, possibly death??

Hey there fellow witches and warlocks, it's spooky season and I am loving it! I recently discovered the void state through yoga nidra and your reverse psychology method charm, and I was ready to manifest my dream life. October is my birth month and my favorite season, so I was excited to see what the universe had in store for me and whoa did it come through.

It's unfortunate to see that SA victims like me and others are still getting death and rape threats. I was inspired by a blog who shared her experience with yoga nidra, but then deactivated due to trolls sending her horrible messages. It's sad to see people hating on others' success, but we won't let them bring us down.

I manifested everything I desired of course my mind came through!! - from my desired face, body, aura, zodiac, personality, voice, talents, friends, family, and so much more. A few things I've manifested include a dark academia mansion, billionaire parents who aren't known, a witchy and Halloween-themed small business, and an eco-friendly private jet.

I know some of you may be concerned about the "death note" I've manifested, but it's just for fun - I'm a huge fan of Light Yagami from Death Note. I won't actually use it, but it's a cool spook factor to have.

Here’s a tiny list anyways ⬇️

🎃Desired face, body, aura zodiac, personality, voice, talents, friends, family and so much more. I had this long wattpadd story ass list that I obviously won’t share here but trust me my mind came through .

🎃open minded witchy family, dark academia ass mansion, Pinterest dark academia wardrobe in my massive closet that’s the size of a room, billionaire parents who aren’t known (I love my privacy and I love being mysterious), wattpadd billionaire love story to happen in the future. Yes not now…. I’ve been ugly all my life so I want to be a slut right for a bit not sorry, everyone loves and falls in love with me, Idgaf personality, Scorpio sun moon and rising, bold attitude that is adored, but a kind heart for the people I love and so much more. Again like most people I had a very long list on my google documents

🎃I own a witchy candy and Halloween small business!!! but I’m going to be making 100 million dollars a year so I will be a billionaire in the future. I like working and having a craft and it’s just so me, ugh I love my life !!! But I’m going to hire my two best friends that I manifested so we can all be successful rich witch bitches who travel the world and have too much money to spend

🎃an environment friendly private jet. It won’t affect the environment as I love the environment but I also hate flying commercial! I’m also vegan now, I couldn’t be one before due to health issues, but I love animals 🥹🥹🥹 and now I’m rich enough to have healthy tasty cruelty free food.

🎃anyone who sends death threats, rape threats, or engages in a bitter manner on that tea page including the owner will never get into the void until they grow up and acknowledge that they’re weirdos. I’m not as forgiving as these other big blogs. Bye ��️

🎃anytime I say “you’ll die alone” when im arguing with a man 🤮🤮 (incels, misgyonists, racists not men who aren’t insufferable ofc love y’all) they actually will, and no one will ever love them, until they grow up and once again acklowege their faults. As you can see I’m very into vigilante justice and I’m petty 👻 I’m a witch anyways so now my craft will be perfect.

🎃all my spells and curses work! And any harm attempted to be done to me always backfires On the person 10x worse ! Yea this is my world everyone’s just living in it.

🎃psychokenis, my eyes being able to turn red, divine protection for me and my loved ones, the ability to speak to animals, and never aging. The last thing I manifested a way to benefit all !!!! research age regression and see how we will all be eternal youthful witch bitches in the future ;) I got inspired by my grandma who retired but us too old to enjoy her life. Now she can and we call be 150 and still sexy with 0 bodily pain. I also always hated how we slowly decompose and lose bodily function until we die.. like why can’t we be sexy and bodily abled forever!! This will also help with health issues and diseases like cancer! Just one way to give back for my blessings. And the rest is just to spook bitches tbh I don’t plan on actually doing anything but speaking to animals.

🎃I manifested a death note. Now before y’all start I just really love light yagami I don’t think I will actually use it or maybe I will just to spook bitches but whatever

🎃so much more that I don’t want to share because it’s too long!

So, fellow hot bitches and witches , keep manifesting your dreams and never let anyone bring you down. Remember, we were born to be happy, rich, and loved. It is in your DNA and my word is final !!!!! I’m gonna leave my dream life and be a whore now lova yaaaa 🖤🖤🖤

Lmfao slay 😭😭 idk if it’s too early or what but this sending me for some reason! Anyways I wish you all the best in your life and dreams. Have a great spooky season! I love witches and Halloween too 🧞‍♀️🧞‍♀️

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #void state #void success

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bitterkarella · 10 months

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Midnight Pals: Cyclical Time

[at unicorn fuck club] Robert Jordan: thus as the wheel of time turns, so pass the ages of man! Jordan: a new epoch of magic and mystery settles upon the land! Jordan: it was an age of the distant past Jordan: and an age yet to come! Tolkien: wait a second Tolkien: which was it

Jordan: the gleeman vish taral’bid came to seek the blessing of ai’shidoo Tolkien: you’re dropping names like we should be familiar with them Jordan: you should be, we’ve been over this before Tolkien: we have? Jordan: in an age of the distant past Jordan: and an age yet to come

Jordan: it’s an epic tale of good & evil just like your lord of the rings Jordan: but the selling point here is that time is cyclical Tolkien: oh that’s interesting, i thought time was linear Jordan: oh no not at all Jordan: first you have to understand that space time is curved

Jordan: so nineva al’uvyf is all “oh you menfolk with yer dillying and your dallying! Guess it’s up to us womenfolk to fix this!” Jordan: “what’s that there? mud on the floor? ooo and i suppose you menfolk expect us womenfolk to clean that up mm? Just like you menfolk!”

Jordan: just imagine every woman in this world is that one really annoying Irish chick in Star Trek the Next Generation

Jordan: of course men channel saidin for dude magic Jordan: which is stronger, like how a dude is stronger than a lady Jordan: but the lady magic of ladies? well that‘s better for working together Jordan: the real magic is friendship

Jordan: let me tell you Jordan: women, huh? Jordan: who can understand them? Jordan: bitches be chanelin’ saidar

Jordan: so perin was on an epic quest to the desert of yarbalno GRR Martin: how smooth are the skirts? Jordan: oh actually they’re kinda wrinkled Jordan: better smooth ‘em out Jordan: thanks for reminding me! Jordan: wait a second Jordan: are you making fun of me!?

Jordan: you know if that’s how you’re gonna be, I’m just gonna go over to midnight society! Tolkien: you can’t do that, robert! You’re not telling a horror story! Jordan: well, there’s a dark one, that’s pretty spooky Jordan: you know what, just SHUT UP

[at midnight society] Jordan: anyway that’s when i came over here Barker: so how smooth are the skirts

Edward Lee: bro i don’t like to brag but Lee: i been to tar valon Lee: if you know what i mean Koontz: i don’t know what you mean Angela Carter: get off it, you have not been Carter: you wouldn’t be able to find it Tabitha King: oh ho ho! Zing! Patricia Highsmith: i’ve been

Robert Jordan: Braids -- tugged. Jordan: Skirts -- smoothed. Jordan: Unbothered. Moisturized. Happy. In My Lane. Focused. Flourishing.

[at unicorn fuck club] Robert Jordan: thus as the wheel of time turns, so pass the ages of man! Jordan: it was an age of the distant past Jordan: and an age yet to come! Tolkien: wait a second Tolkien: Tolkien: whoa, déjà vu

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #clive barker #dean koontz #edward lee #jrr tolkien #grr martin #tabitha king #angela carter #robert jordan

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evilminji · 9 months

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The House of Mysteries is Arguably Sentient Right?

(O.O ) I sit here... contemplating the... WEIRD Ghosts Danny might come across. The true Haunted Houses. Planets. Theaters. Boxes bigger on the inside. Living ships and A.I.s, Etc.

All things can die. If the house of mysteries is someday utterly destroyed? Is that not death? If the Planet and Green Lantern Mogo is broken to pieces like non-sentient Krypton was, has he not perished?

Do they not stand equal chance of become Ghosts?

Are.... Are Haunts even created? Or are they a symbiotic ghost relationship? The dual fulfilling of Obsession. A house, properly haunted and taking care of someone. And a Ghost, watching TV or organizing stamps or living out the fantasy of their Perfect Life.

All behind purple doors.

Houses are demolished all the time. Or lost to war or disaster. An old enough house? Enough people living and dying in it? Could arguably start to accumulate ectoplasm. Become, not sentient, but a touch more. And in dying? Like any animal, leave behind that Idea of who they were. That ALMOST and Instinct.

Certain places though? That are alive? That have seen far too much death? They seem to carry over. Castles and long burned libraries, coliseums, and frozen hills. The places life was lost, over and over or all at once.

Floating islands from long dead planets.

I bet we could find Kryptonian flora on some of them. If we looked in the right area. It must be a strange mix. Down right bizarre. Facing just about anything and wondering if it's sentient.

With Ectoplasm? It could be.

But at the same time? Imagine the RELIEF? Of, after the stress and fear of dying, waking up CHANGED, somewhere new and alone... searching desperately for something, anything, to ground your self? The relief you'd feel... when a door seems to drift right into out of nowhere. Just? Gentle bonk.

And yeah, it's purple. Looks like every generic door that's ever been. But? It has this VIBE. Like you're staring at the door to your first shit apartment, but it's YOURS and YOU paid for it and you're... you're home now. You open it.

And it's like some crammed every inspo board you ever had and all the parts of every room you ever loved, together. Familiar, new, and best of all? NOT a vast swirling green void. You drift inside.

If you're like so many ghosts? Probably never leave. Why would you? It's spooky and loud and crazy out there. Everyone's nuts. In HERE it's nice. No fights, art and food the way you like it, time feels muted and far away...

You only really snap OUT of your happy Vibe Sesh with your House Haunt when someone intrudes.

There us probably a whole flip side of the Zone that we never really see. Haunt politics. Competition for the really GOOD Ghosts. Haunts that don't want a ghost because they are waiting for somebody who may or may not come.

Other fuckin MOGO'S. Seriously. Sentient planet. That may be rare, may even be the sole example IN THEIR UNIVERSE, but the Zone is Multiversal. Literally Infinite.

Which means there ARE at least a handful or more of SENTIENT PLANET GHOSTS. How do you?? Cope? "Oh this is my buddy, the PLANET EARTH." But possibly BIGGER.

Fuck that's a lot of Ectoplasm. Thank Zone their Obsession's are usually "Be Prosperous Planet" and "orbit and protect this Star, which is sentient and my frient".

Oh? They forgot to mention the SENTIENT FUCKING STAR? As in giant ball of fire and death? Whoops! :T

Don't worry! THEIR Obsession is their planets! It's a full circle thing. Just leave that little system alone and they won't annihilate you and everything you've ever loved! Easy.

Lookin a little pale there, your Majesty. You need to lay down?

(And to think, all this... because Pariah's Castle got into a literal land war with other castles over who gets the New King.)

(Accusations of being a Greedy Bitch were thrown. Suggestions to Get Good and stop being A Loser Crybaby were offered. Somehow, there were cannons? Danny is still unclear but has been told under NO circumstances is he to step foot in ANY ghost building until mediators can be brought in. It could be seen as declaring a preference.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dcxdp #ghost buildings #what ARE haunts?#haunted houses #pariahs castle is a dramtic asshole #theyre also a bitch #its why Pariah liked them #the other castles dont have to stand for this!#local observatories are suggesting maybe the king wants some nice STARS #words are being thrown #and chairs #your architectural designs are GAUDY and no one likes you!#gasp! take THIS!#cannons go brrr

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spookyscaryskidnpump · 3 months

Text

my thoughts on spooky month 6

copy pasted from a page and a half of google doc. crying. spoilers inbound.putting it under the cut cuz its super long. also swear warning.

Ok to start off LILA. LILA MY GAL NO UR DOING UR BEST AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Im crying im actually fucginf crying. She's trying. So hard. Skid is trying so hard. THEY'RE DOING THEIR BEST PLEASEEEEE. Father Gregor can go EAT SHIT. THEY'RE TRYING AND THAT'S WHAT COUNTS GODDAMNIT.

Susie… Susie no… please… she deserves better istgggggg. What happened to their parents? Are they actually just busy? Are they DEAD? Holy shit what if they're dead. Poor Pump, poor Susie, god please just let these kiddos be ok. PLEASE. ABUELO WONDER IS TYING SO HARD BUT SUSIE KNOWS IT ISN'T REALLY FROM HER PARENTS IM CRYING. SUSIE NOOOOOO

FATHER GREGOR I HATE YOU. ok well he obvs did some good but STILL. GREGOR. STFU GREGOR. I get that hes trying but U CANT JUST SAY ALL THAT SHIT ABOUT JUDGEMENT AND THEN JUDGE HER HER FUCKING HOUSE GOT BROKEN INTO!! YOU DONT HAVE THE FUCKING CONTEXT!!!! ARGHFDGHJSGHJKAGHSD. Also DAMN IS HE A CULTIST NOW?? IS HE DEAD?? WHAT?!?!?!

ROYYYYYY ROY MY BOI NOOOOOO poor guy :( i understand why he hates the kids they DID kinda ruin him so. At least he knows theyre trying now :( and ross n rob just ASSUME he did something bad isnt helping here!!!! I get that theyre also trying to help him and its nice to see him opening up to them about stuff (even if we dont get to know what specifically PELO WHY) but PLEASE get this kid an anger management class or smthn PLEASE. He needs SO MUCH THERAPY. I dont think hes gonna get therapy because im pretty sure his parents are Part Of The Problem but STILL. Also FUCKER LITERALLY GOT POSSESED BY A DEMON?????? THATS GOTTA BE TRAUMATIC TF

Side note i love ross and robert dearly and i appreciate them doing their best to help on both sides i love them smmmmmm AUGH

KEVIN AND RADFORD FRIENDSHIP REALLLLLLLLLL i am SO fucking happy about that!!!! Also Kevin having conflicted feelings on the kids FAIR. Similar thing to Roy except hes an adult with a semi-functional support network and is able to understand that theyre just dumb kids and they dont actually mean any harm. He’s harsher on the hatzgang cuz theyre teens and old enough to know stealing is wrong but Skid n Pump are little kiddos they dont know better. Also him disapproving of father gregor REAL THO. also HE GOT POSSESSED TOO?? TRAUMA CENTRAL HOLY SHIT

PATTY DESERVES TO HAVE A GUN ACTUALLY. Also JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST JOHN ANGST! IS HIS KID DEAD? IS HIS DAUGHTER OK HOLY SHIT. ALSO THEM HELPING THE KIDS PROPERLY IM CRYIG AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!

WHAT WAS EVERMORE DOING WITH THE HOBOMEN???? HELLO??????

I SAW THAT CULT NECKLACE UNDER IGNACIOS SHIRT. I FUCKING SAW IT. CALLED IT BITCH!!!!!!

Rick just has the WORST luck lmao

STREBER IS ALIVE LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

DEXTER NO PLEASE AUGH…… HIS MOM TOO……

JAUNE AND ROSS’S DAD… HE'S REAL HE EXISTS!! I get ur trying jaune but that is NOT the best way to comfort poor lila… AT LEAST SHES TRYING THO I APPRECIATE HER

THE ENTIRE NEWGROUNDS ENDING?? THE THIEVES AND THE CANDY DEALER IN CAHOOTS WITH THE CULT???? HELLO??????

MOLOCH IS GONE. he deserved it but also THE KIDS ARE SO SAD ABOUT IT? Like they don't really get it but they just watched someone they thought was their friend DIE. HOLY SHIT.

finally. SKID AND PUMP. KIDDOS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ok for real tho theyre so much more self aware than the fandom and bulk of the show give them credit for?? Like Skid is VERY aware of his dad being dead/possibly missing and legit just doesn’t wanna talk about it. He knows what death is and he finds fun in it to cope. My poor sweet boyo… and PUMP. PUMP ANSWERING THE CALL AUGHHHHHH HE WANTS HIS PARENTS BACK IM CRYING. SUSIE AND ABUELO ARE DOING THEIR BEST AND HE'S TRYING SO HARD AND AAAAAAAAAAUGH. Also him getting possessed by Moloch while having Star-Eyes basically debunks the theory of the Star-Eyes being a form of possession which is FASCINATING. Anyway that scene with Susie and Pump got me misty eyed and then during the ending with Skid and Lila i actually genuinely started crying. I just want them to be happy. Please let them be happy. Please. PLEASE.

#spookymisc.txt #spooky month #spooky month 6 #spooky month 6 spoilers #sm6 #sm spoilers #not tagging all the characters cuz theres too many mentioned #anyway CRYING.

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trashmouth-richie · 8 months

Text

Series summary: Hawkins Annual Halloween Festival is in town, and this year you and your friends were lucky enough to work the event. But when some of your co-workers are missing, and a trail of blood leads to the woods behind the festival. Your friends work together to find out what’s going on. A killer is on the loose but who could it be? Or is it the town’s spooky secret of what really happened at Hawkins Lab?

ch 1: FLICKER

ch 2: A SCREAM AND A SLICE

ch 3: THE ROCKSTAR AND THR REDLIGHTS

chapter summary: flashbacks provide some insight on our favorite metalhead.

chapter trigger warnings: 18+ only, character death, references to child neglect, upside down references, poor parenting practices, etc, blood, character death, killer reveal.

CH. 4: FAMILY VALUES

1974

The tires on Evil Kneivel’s Stunt Bike trudged through the familiar path of the bare thread carpet in the back bedroom of trailer 8 in Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie was on his stomach, ignoring the rumbling noise from the hollow emptiness in his belly, he pressed his lips together to vibrate a motorcycle sound through his mouth, casually blowing dark curls from his vision.

An annoyed huff echoed across the thin walls, “This is boring,” Billy snarled, he was laying flat on Eddie’s bed, feet on the wall, throwing up his stretch Armstrong to himself before tossing it across the room, landing with a splat on the broken closet door.

Eddie pushed himself up from the carpet, the fibers itching through the holes in his jeans and scratching his knees.

He shrugs, running his tongue through the gap of his latest pulled tooth, “wanna see my guitar?”

“No,” Billy huffed, his thumb nail catching along the ridges of the zippo lighter he had stolen from Melvalds, lighting a small flame that he quickly extinguished with the flip of the lid. “I wanna do something fun.”

“Alright then, genius,” Eddie scowls, sitting next to Billy on the brown and burgundy ripped threads of an afghan blanket, “what do you have in mind?”

Billy swings his feet around, landing with ease and standing before his friend, the smirk on Billy’s face was one Eddie knew all too well.

—

Neil and Al didn’t hear the boys sneak out from the back room, too drunk and elbow deep in “work” to notice their sons had pushed the screen outward and hopped down to the ground.

“The instructions are clear, Al,” Neil said, his mouth around a can of Pabst, scrubbing a dirty thumbnail through his eyebrow, “here let me see that.”

Al blows a cloud of smoke into the air, handing over the poorly written note on the back of the Hideout napkin, clad with ketchup stains and spilled coffee. “Don’t know how you can even read this shit.”

“I can read that’s how I can read it dumb fuck,” Neil snapped, grabbing the napkin from him, he looks over the scratchy pen marks, pointing at the instructions again, “see right there, Creel laid it all out for us.”

“Okay wise ass, but it doesn’t make sense. How the hell are we supposed to break int- into that place without anyone seeing us?” Al puts the butt of his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray, blowing smoke around the side of his mouth. “It’s under surveillance and the guards are armed.”

“The guards are armed.” Neil mocks, “Jesus Christ you sound just like a woman, how many cars have we boosted?”

“That’s different, easy. Breaking into a secret government lab? This is above our pay grade, and your skill level.”

“Yeah and your big brains are why you got fired from the mill right?”

“Shit,” Al downplays, “they didn’t pay worth a damn, boosting and dealin’ keep my pockets lined just fine.”

“If only it was enough to keep Liz around right?”

“Don’t say that bitch’s name in this house, I’ll slit your throat and use it for an ashtray, Hargrove.”

“Ahh shit,” Neil quips, “don’t get your panties wadded up, but back to this,” he says waving the napkin around, “the tunnels, that’s our way in.”

—-

Eddie’s van is barreling down the highway like a bat out of hell. Nancy hasn’t stopped crying, slowly wiping her tears, with the front of her shirt, sniffling every so often.

You’re grief stricken, numb to whatever the hell just happened, and what those things even were— and to top it all off, Eddie somehow knows?

Steve is leaning on the center console between you and Eddie, back seat driving and giving him directions on how to get to his house.

At first Eddie had thought about going to his trailer, he knew his dad and Wayne kept their rifles in the back shed, but decided against it at the last minute, hollering over his shoulder for anyone having an idea of where to go.

How safe could he keep everyone if his house was bordering on enemy lines?

—-

1983

The Hargrove’s house was nestled on Cherry. Older but comfortable, a damn sight better than the paper thin walls of the trailer, and the soggy couch that reeked of spilt beer.

Billy was going on and on about his girlfriends, yes plural. The blonde haired Gina or was it Jenny? And Tanya, the rich one who lived by Steve Harrington.

Junior year was different for the boys, where Billy excelled in popularity with the jocks being a basketball star, Eddie fell into a different crowd, the Hellfire Club.

They were still friends, still causing trouble on nights you couldn’t hang out, Billy now refusing entirely to hang out with Eddie when you were around, which you weren’t complaining about.

Eddie takes another swig of Mt. Dew and continues drawing a rogue for one of the older guys, Nico, in Hellfire. He was only half listening to the way Billy was describing the differences between the girls, body type mostly.

“If you want in on the action big boy just let me know, Gina loves hearing Metallica play when we steam up the windows in my car if ya know what I mean,” the cigarette hanging limply from his lips wiggled as he spoke, sending ashes down to his black converse.

Eddie immediately thought of you. He wasn’t sure of his feelings when it came to you but he wondered if you’d be weirded out that Billy was planning to get him a date. How would you feel if he went out with some chick?

The idea of you kissing someone made his stomach turn, and not in a butterfly way.

Instead of listening to Billy bitch about how much he can’t stand you and how you’re holding Eddie back he just went along with it, “yeah man, sounds good.”

“Sounds good?” Billy questions, racking the weights he was lifting with a thud, checking his traps in his reflection, shooting a look over his shoulder, “I’m trying to get you laid, dude.”

Eddie looks up from his seated position in the corner of Billy’s room, his fingers were silvery from shading the lines of his drawing, pinked eraser rubberings littered the front of his new Metallica shirt. “Yeah man, I’m down, what’s her number.”

Eddie wrote the number on the corner of his paper, barely registering what else Billy was saying, his mind wandering to what kind of shit his dad was up to this time.

Al was home for a longer stretch than normal this time, but he seemed to spend every waking minute at the Hargrove’s.

Eddie wasn’t dumb enough to think that his dad actually wanted to hangout with him.

Oh no, Al Munson had his priorities whenever he came back to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, and seeing his only son wasn't the top of the list.

He went to the bar first, picking out the waitress with zero confidence, saying all the right things and tipping her just enough to make her think she was really something. When her shift was over, he’d bring her to a sleazy by-the-hour motel, giving her the ol’ Munson magic and then, when she was in the shower or cleaning up in the bathroom, he’d bolt. Driving to the nearest gas station casino and spending whatever money the waitress had in her purse.

He’d finally crawl back to Wayne’s when he was bone dry, claiming he was home “for good this time!” And how he, “just wanted to hangout with my boy!”

Turns out the “hanging out” was going over to Neil’s and getting shitfaced drunk, bringing Eddie to tag along, to prove to his brother that he was a good dad. He failed to mention that Eddie would end up locked in Billy’s room until dawn.

So no, getting laid wasn’t on Eddie’s mind right now.

“I told Tommy H to leave you alone, told him I’d fuck his girlfriend again if I caught wind of him messing with you.” Billy said, shoving his chest out proudly. Maybe if he helped Eddie spread his wings, he’d stop getting picked on, but in Billy’s eyes, Eddie brought alot of it on himself sticking up for those fucking nerds he always hung out with.

The Hargrove kitchen table was covered in the same paperwork they always were when Al came over. Weird haikus, and riddles that were partly solved, a timeline of when and where everything needed to take place, and lastly, a complete blueprint of Lonnie Byers’ house.

Everything was just about set in stone, the only thing the men couldn’t figure out is why Creel had decided that it had to be Lonnie’s son as the baited sacrifice. And whenever they asked, Creel would say the same thing, “an eye for an eye.”

—

1986

“Right here,” Steve said, pointing his hand in Eddie’s face and out the window to his big behemoth of a house.

The kind of house that belonged to a homeowners society, telling you when, where, and how to water and mow your grass. Not the type of neighborhood that housed the brown piece of shit on wheels that was arriving into the Harrington driveway at record speeds.

Steve fumbled with the door and had to pry Nancy away from the van, she was petrified, her body shaking and tense, beneath his arm.

Eddie turns to you, tapping you gently on the shoulder and when you don’t move he guides your chin towards him, his heart breaking at the sight of your tear filled eyes.

“I’m gonna keep you safe, okay?” His eyes were large and the worry on his face only made you more scared, but he tried to put on a brave face for you, “c’mon, we gotta get inside.”

Steve’s home was decorated with expensive paintings and gold fixtures. The kind of decor that wasn't available at a mall but ordered from some lavish designer in New York. The living room had vacuum lines in the carpet, as if it were never used. The wood floors in the foyer sparkled from the overhead chandelier, it was a catalog home, looking as if it were staged for a photo

shoot rather than people actually living in it.

Nancy’s cries echoed loudly around the empty Harrington home, Steve scooped her up like an infant and carried her down the carpeted steps to the open basement.

Eddie still wasn’t acting like himself, his eyes were clouded over with something you couldn’t pinpoint, plagued with grief? But you felt reassured when his fingers curled into the spaces between yours as you followed Steve and Nancy to the basement.

—

NOVEMBER 9, 1983

“You working tonight?” Eddie asks at your locker, ringed fingers working over the corners of a Polaroid of you and him last summer when he tried to teach you how to skateboard. One of his favorite memories.

“Nope,” you answer from deep inside your locker, looking for the crumbled history notes you swore you still had for todays test, emerging from the locker and hitting your head on the way out, “ow fuck! Nah I’m off tonight, Don closed since Joyce’s son has been gone, why what’s up?”

Eddie shuts your locker and shifts his worn notebook to his other hand, “it’s Wednesday, the Hawk has free popcorn, thought maybe we could see a movie?”

It wasn’t weird for two friends to go to a movie together, you and Eddie had done it multiple times. Completely casual. Even if the heat from his fingers bumping against yours sent flutters to your stomach and he quickly moved his hand like you were a snake that had bit him, a blush forming on his cheeks.

“What time?”

“I dunno, seven? Pick ya up at 6:30, that way we can stop and get snacks to sneak some snacks in to go with our free popcorn.”

His boyish grin was the same from when you were kids, dimple dipped cheeks, and the darkest eyes twinkling with mischievous glee.

The door to Mr. Stanley’s Chem 210 was open and you stopped before going in the classroom to give Eddie your answer, “fine, but I want twizzlers.”

—

“What the hell do you mean it’s not enough? We did exactly what you said, solved each fucking riddle!”

The weathered boards of the Creel House groan as a screaming gust of wind slaps loud against the old home, the late winter storm rattled the wooden foundation and pelted the window panes with ice, pinging loudly with each large gale that forced its way through the cracks of the poorly maintained home.

A small fire crackled in the sunken fireplace, wafting dark plumes of smoke into the living room and ashing soot onto the cobweb covered furniture.

“He makes the rules, I do not, I am simply a messenger, a ves—,” a tattered mitten hand cups around his mouth, acting as a poor excuse for a shield against a barking, wet cough. Lungs burning with each wheeze of oxygen leaving. He clears his throat when the fit is over, wiping his mouth with a moth bitten scarf around his sagging neck, leaving blood behind, “..vessel, I don’t make the rules, Neil.”

“A what?” Al quizzes, shifting uncomfortably from his left leg to his right, “we delivered that kid exactly where you told us to! The whole town thinks he’s dead! Hawkins PD put out the report last night that a body was found by the quarry.”

Creel pokes the fire with the blunt end of his cane, crumbling a reddened log into pieces, adding a wadded mass of newspaper, the face of Will Byers’ missing poster front and center, his cherub smile warping with the heated flame.

“The boy is hiding somewhere. The creatures can not find him, he is convinced that there is help from our side.”

“Impossible,” Al scoffed, rubbing the cold of his nose on his sleeve, “I just talked to Chief Hopper at the Hideaway last night, and according to him it’s a closed case, Lonnie and his former ol lady were making funeral arrangements.”

“What you hear, and what you see, seem different ways to hold the key.”

“Enough with the psychological bullshit!” Neil yelled throwing his beer across the living room, “tell us what he needs from us.”

The blackened tooth smile creeps onto Creel’s face his red chapped lips split and bleed, and he holds back his cough just long enough to whispers the same fallacy he was given only hours before, in another dimension identical to this one.

“A son.”

—

The wind was ripping snow across the streets of Hawkins. The windshield wipers on Eddie’s van had frozen in place, stopping half way in the middle of the windshield, the shitty wipers no match against the freezing, winter rain.

You were certain that the seat belt in the passenger seat had never been used before tonight, but Eddie was insistent that you wore it, foregoing his own with a you’re kidding right? look. The whites of your knuckles shine bright with each overhead street lamp that dances lazily on the windshield, and Eddie looks over with a laugh.

“Almost there Pebs,” he mumbles, his mouth snug around the filter of a cigarette, a half smirk on his lips, “don’t worry.”

The storm foiled more plans than just good driving conditions, apparently The Hawk had closed earlier that day when the windchill dipped down to the negatives, Sal ensuring that his employees had plenty of time to get home before the weather took a turn for the worst. Thankfully Family Video was still open, and Eddie’s trailer was empty for the night, save for a couple of beers in the fridge and the heat from an electric blanket. Apparently the manager of Family Video didn’t give a fuck about the roads, neither did the factory.

You and Eddie were met with the rolling eyes of Steve Harrington as you two shoved each other out of the way to get into the door first, bringing with you a cold gust of wind and chattering teeth. After securing The Poltergeist and two boxes of peanut M&M’s, you and Eddie were tucked into the tin can death trap on wheels, trekking slowly to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

The bumpy driveway was nearly covered by the falling ice and snow, causing Eddie to slide into his parking spot, well the front yard, of trailer 8. Before he jiggles the key out of the ignition, a man’s shadow illuminated the front door, the burning end of a cigarette glowing on a presumed inhale, and Eddie mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“Stay here, okay?” He says with a shallow voice, his eyes never leaving the front door of the trailer, “I’ll be right back.”

What the hell was his dad doing at home this time? Maybe he was confused, thinking it was Thanksgiving already— probably wondering where the turkey and green bean casserole were.

The door of the van groans as Eddie pushes it open with his shoe, slamming it shut and hearing the crinkle of built up ice breaking away from the frame. Ice was gathering in his hair as he scurried up the steps, the shadow moving away from the door so Eddie could come inside, and once the threshold was breached, he wasn’t surprised to see his dad standing in the kitchen, smoking a cigarette, long fingers wrapped around a can of Wayne’s breakfast PBR.

“There’s my boy,” Al greeted with a false tone of cheer laced in his voice, “only been waiting here for an hour, I need your help with somethin’.”

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters, shutting the door tight and shaking his hair free of the elements, “must have lost my schedule on your flight arrival.”

“Watch it,” Al snaps, his eyes are bloodshot and dark rimmed, voice gravelly, “I’m in no mood for your shit tonight, alright?”

Eddie tuts through his teeth and shoulder checks his old man before walking to the living room, pulling the cord from the wall jack, unplugging the tv. Holding it against his hip to bring it to his room.

“What the hell man, I was gonna watch that!” Al yells as Eddie trudges into his room, shoving shit off his dresser with a sweep of his arm, putting the small tv down he turns to find his dad right behind him, glaring menacingly at him, nose to nose.

“The rabbit ears haven’t worked in months, guess you’ll have to go to Neil’s..”

His insult is cut short as Al grabs him by the lapels of his denim vest, shoving him into the closet door, busting it off the sliding track.

“Listen to me you little fuck…” Al spits, literally into Eddie’s face, “I said I’m not in the mood for your shit tonight, ya got me? I need your fucking help for once in your life, can you manage that?”

“Get off me,” Eddie sneers back, trying to hide the trembling in his jaw as he grits his teeth, “I’m serious.”

I'm serious, Dad! Al mocks, shoving Eddie harder into the closet, the splintering wood busting beneath his shoulder blades. “I ain’t ever asked you for nothin’ in your whole damn life, let you live here with Wayne, no rules no nothin’ and now it’s time to pay up. I need a favor.”

His eyes were shocking in a desperate way, anger riddling his irises.

Eddie thinks fast to his underwear drawer, the wad of cash shoved into an old sock underneath a sticky playboy, “I don’t sell whatever you’re on, and I don’t have any cash.”

“Ain’t about money, or horse, Eddie boy, you remember my friend, the one that lives in the old house on Morehead?”

Eddie thinks back to all the “friends” Al had ever introduced him to. There was Bud the one who owned the bowling alley in Bridgeport that had a fake eye and an gnarly looking scar on his face from a dog bite, Willy Jack who helped take the plates off of the van and scratch up the VIN number when they stole it from that scrap yard north of town, he even painted it any color Eddie wanted, but somehow the friend he was talking about wasn’t registering.

Raising an eyebrow, Eddie shakes his head no. “Doesn’t matter,” Al said all too quick, “his son has been missin’ see, for years, and we need your boys’ help finding him.”

“Who’s we?” Eddie asks, finally wiggling free from his dads hands, straightening his jacket, “and why the fuck do I need to find him?”

A closed fist breaks through the paneled wall next to his chin, “enough with the questions Eddie goddamnit! I need you on this, and you’re not gonna tell me ‘no’ you understand me?”

Eddie had never hated his dad more than he did at this moment. If he were older he’d swing a fist into his gut, knock his lights out once and for all, but he didn’t dare, shoulders slumped and the weight of the world and all its guilt piled onto him. He had no idea what kind of shit his dad was getting him into, only the gut wrenching feeling that something was terribly wrong, and the only thing he could do was nod his head, agreeing to lend his trembling hand.

Across town on Cherry lane, Neil Hargrove was having the same friendly little “discussion” with Billy, but the conversation was different, lighter, happier, and the two Hargrove men seemed to be on the same page for once in their lives.

—

OCT. 1986

The Harrington’s basement was set up much like the Wheeler’s but on a grander scale. Large tv tucked behind an oak cabinet,, a beige leather couch that seemed to stretch across the entire living room area, a surround sound system in each corner, two bedrooms and a full bathroom. Setting Nancy down on the plus couch and covering her small form with a wool blanket, Steve opens a closet door and wrangles out a new set of golf clubs, leaning them against the wall, and running his hair through his fingers, as if he’s trying to make a mental list of household objects that could be used as a weapon.

The phone rings noisily in one of the bedrooms and Steve leaves to answer it.

Eddie still has your fingers between his, his rings leaving small indents but you don’t mind, it’s a comfort. He’s muttering to himself, in a tone only he can hear, biting the nails on his right hand with grinding clicks of his teeth. Looking at you his expression falters for a split second, trying to put on a calming mask, nonchalant-like even though inside he was screaming.

It wouldn’t be long before the Demodogs came, especially if the Demogorgons were out, would he be looking for him? Wondering where he has been? Why he’s been gone?

He guides you to the couch, a grand gesture with his nail bitten hand, grabbing a blanket and putting it around you.

Steve emerges from the back bedroom, a tiny bit of relief in his eyes, “that was Robin, they’re on their way here, I guess they barely made it out.”

You wince at the thought of everyone dead at the carnival, the way Argyle’s body was ripped to shreds, the howling cackle from Creel, the way he stood with his arms in a welcoming hug, just an hour ago you were convinced you were going to kiss your best friend, now the majority of Hawkins was dead.

Steve turns to Eddie, with wide searching eyes, fumbling for the right words but failing, “I need answers man, right now.”

—

Robin hangs up the phone, blood drying on her fingers from when she tripped over the gaping carcass of Tammy Thompson, her face covered with streaks of dirt and god knows what else, “ Let’s go! Everyone’s at St—”

A stinging in her spine brings heat, warm and dripping, then fiery hot, a hand on her shoulder she turns to see his maniacal eyes, the blood from the gash on his head now trickling into his mouth, white pearls stained in ruby.

“I did you a solid Rob, killed that bitch for you—didn’t even think twice about it, because we’re friends,” blood now trickling down her back into the waist of her scoops ahoy uniform shorts, she garbles a breath cusping on the breath of a question.

“shh,” he reassures, wiping tears from her freckles lined cheeks, extracting the knife from the well in her back, he helps her lie down gently, “this isn’t going to kill you, it’s just temporary you see? I can’t have any distractions, I can’t let you get in my way, but don’t worry!”

He moves to rip the phone cord from its hook, “I’ve done so much research on this meticulously studying over books on ways to cut the human body, what would hurt the worst, the least, the angle of the knife was just right, I guess I could be wrong,” he scratches his head, the whites of his eyes rolling as the smell of blood starts to work him up, an ache he can’t scratch, “hmm… take care, yeah? I’ll be back.”

A pool of blood blossoms from Robin’s back, flowing into the blue carpet fibers of her room— in tandem with the slow blink of her eyelashes meeting.

The ignition of his car engine backfires with a gunshot noise, the bloody knife he used to kill the others laid gently on the leather of his passenger seat.

Driving down the desolate streets of Hawkins, he looks in the rearview mirror, and for the first time, Jonathan Byers likes what he sees.

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @feyremunson

#eddie fanfiction #eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #fic recs #eddie munson angst #stranger things #upside down #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie fanfic

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calmthefuckdownalright · 2 years

Text

Protectbur HC's

A/n: Protectbur is just something I call a very protective C!Wilbur. Maybe it'll catch on after this who knows 💅

Summary: Situationns where some of the -Bur variants get a little protective 🤍

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Vilbur

"Alright Wil, I'm going to Manberg to see Niki."

"Woah woah woah what? No you're not!"

"Wil it's just to see Niki. She's on our side, besides Schlatt isn't even around right now."

"I don't care! You're gonna stay right here where I can see you."

gets very worked up over little things like this

Going out to hunt, mining trips, etc. He doesn't want you accidentally finding one of his detonation sites or setting one off

Mostly his own paranoia rather than him actually trying to protect you

Revivebur

You'd be chatting with Quackity in Las Nevadas or just outside and Wilbur would spot you guys. Him being Quackity's nemesis and your lover would definitely create some immense tension

"Stay the fuck away from Y/N you two-bit capitalist."

"They came to see me!"

"They would never. They know you're a wanker, and a bloody liar. Stay away from them or you'll lose your other fucking eye got it?"

Very violent. Very unhinged

Phantombur

Fancy boi losing his shit? Don't mind if I do 💅

I don't really know the lore in Origins but I know that Fragrance Man is supposed to be sort of a creepy guy and I know there's something with Evilza so I'm looking into it. For now we're just using Fragrance bc we love Schlatt as a villain.

"Mind letting me go?"

"No no no, you smell strange. I need you to come with me so I can investigate."

Basically he'd try and kidnap you and guess what it's dusk so your boyfriend comes swooping from the shadows with a warning shot.

"Where the fuck did the arrow come from?!"

"Where do you think Arachnid?" Phantombur would reveal himself very dramatically and have an arrow notched already pointing over your shoulder into Fragrance Man's throat

"Hey now, no need to get violent there Wilbur."

"What the fuck were you doing with my darling huh Fragrance Man? Care to explain?"

Very menacing, especially with the green eyes glowing and the unfiltered rage

We love a spooky bitch

Simpbur

Obviously he's here. It wouldn't be a protection hc without our favorite yandere-ish variant

"I will blow your fuckin head off if you don't back the FUCK up right now."

Kind of a combination of Vilbur and Revivbur. Very violent and loud and commanding despite his usual background personality

Scares people off very easily with his height and anger. The first time he protected you you didn't know who he was

"Thanks and all but who are you?!"

"Wil Soot. Wilbur really, at your service."

Very formal despite his hammering heart. Kind of had been a stalker for a while so he knew very well how to make you smile

He landed a date with you after this so all's well that ends well...

It didn't end well for the guy that was harassing you to say the least

Ghostbur

Oh...you didn't think ol' Ghostbur could get protective did you? Never underestimate me my dears

"Y/N watch out!" Someone would try and warn you but be a little too late. Well they would anyways. Ghostbur's never late for his darling

"Didn't anyone tell you to stay away from things that aren't yours?"

Very smiley while he tends off whoever tried to harm you. This is the first time he's wielded a sword since he died so you'll have to pardon his disheveled appearance once he's done

"Are you alright?"

"Yea Ghostbur, I-I'm okay now. Thanks."

"Anytime darling."

Huffy puffy Ghosts Boy but he's smiling like a fool now that you're safe

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#c!wilbur hc's #dsmp #c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #c!wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #ghostbur #simpbur x reader #ghostbur x reader #phantombur #phantombur x reader #Protective hc's #revivedbur #revivedbur x reader #vilbur #bursonas #x reader hc's

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rozcdust · 2 years

Text

I don’t speak to whores

Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader, QPP Kazutora Hanemiya x AroAce!GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, fluff

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, qpp relatinship, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten, vomiting, drinking, taking care of a drunk person, reader has emotional capabilities of a carrot

masterlist

Knuckles rapping on the doors of Mikey’s office, you don’t wait for a ‘come in’ or ‘open’ or ‘fuck off’ or any other response your boss may offer, walking in without a care in the world.

You will, however, soon enough have many, many worries.

“What’s up, boss?”

“We have dinner on Thursday, 9 p.m.” He said from his desk, not raising his gaze from the game he was playing.

“Cool, I’ll schedule that at that one restaurant you like, party of 7?”

“Party of 8.”

“Oh, that spooky-ooky guy I barely see is going too?”

Mikey finally looked up at you.

“No, Mochi isn’t coming, he’s on his honeymoon, but you will.”

You blinked.

“I’ll what?”

“Bonding time.” He merely responded before going back to playing fucking Tetris, as if he didn’t just utter the most horrifying phase in the history of Heaven, Earth and Hell, ensuring your therapy bills quadruple in an instant.

“Boss, is that smart?”

“Bonding with coworkers in a controlled environment is important.”

“You haven’t felt another person’s touch since 2007.”

“Correct, but bonding.”

You stared at him, appalled.

“Boss, I work with feral cats in heat, how the fuck would that be a good idea?”

“Bonding.”

Mikey never looked as kickdroppable as he did at that moment.

Apparently, and according to Takeomi, company dinners are mandatory and you wouldn’t be able to get out of one even if you tried, and tried you have.

Great.

Mikey spreading misery all around, as he does best.

“Have you noticed how all aro ace people dress like whores?” Tora was sitting on your shared bed, his current job of helping you pick an outfit so, oh so tiring, he gave up and chose to just provide random comments from the side.

Which weren’t worth shit, half of his closet was tacky animal print shirts.

“I think that’s exclusively a you thing, but shut it right now, I am angy.”

Kazutora threw up his hands in surrender.

“I have to go to a stupid dinner with stupid coworkers and handle all their stupid flirting and-“ Huffing, you angrily threw the leather jacket off yourself, plopping on the bed and right into Kazutora’s lap.

Kazutora sympathetically patted your head,

“Do you want cuddles?”

“Yes.” Gathering just enough energy to drag yourself up so you were fully seated on him, you buried your face into his neck, his arms immediately wrapping around you. His hair tickled your face, now let out of the bun he usually wore, but it smelled nice, so you allowed it.

“I just want to poison their coffee,” You muttered, pouting when Kazutora chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple as the only response, “They’re so fucking annoying, I swear. I will stab them.”

“Not recommended, sweetheart.”

“Yes, the fuck it is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-uh.”

“You’ll be fine, babe.” Forcing you to look at him, he peppered more kisses onto your face, the pout on it growing even more, and he couldn’t help but think you look so cute like that.

He laughed at the expression, earning a smack in retaliation.

“You suck, Tora.”

“Come on,” He grinned, too cocky for your liking, “Ya love me. You asked me out first!”

Sighing dramatically, you allow your head to fall on his chest, closing your eyes as you breathed in his scent.

“Truly, what a terrible curse has befallen me, to live with a dumb bitch like you, you stupid piece of shit.”

Kazutora’s grin widened, and before you could process, he whipped out the camera out of nowhere, snapping a picture to probably develop and bully you about it later.

“Love you too, honey. Love you too.”

“Hello, y/n l/n, I’m here with a party of 8.” You already sounded exhausted, and the dinner hasn’t even started.

The smiling receptionist led you to the room you reserved, on the top floor, a rather luxurious dining suite with a beautiful view of the city, absolutely breathtaking and way too fucking cliche.

To be fair, you did ask the restaurant for the most expensive suite and the most expensive dinner they offered.

You were already adding dents to Bonten’s self-esteem, why not do it to their wallets too?

All of the men were already there, their eyes observing you carefully and hungrily, and if you were any less confident in your clothing choice, you would have felt a little unnerved.

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for your stupid, horny coworkers, Kazutora stuck you in his ‘Dick slaying outfit’, which meant you were wearing exclusively oversized men’s clothing, courtesy of Kazutora’s lanky form and the muscle mass he seemed to keep no matter the fact the heaviest thing he ever lifted was a cat, with the exception of the sluttiest, smallest crop top the entire city of Tokyo has ever seen.

Also belonging to Kazutora.

Maybe his hypothesis that aroace people dressed like hoes was correct.

Kokonoi tried to comment that the outfit wasn’t quite ‘fine dining’ appropriate, upon which you bit back that their job wasn’t fine dining appropriate, which seemed to quickly shut him up.

Kakucho politely told you that you looked pretty, but he also received a glare, even if he hasn’t quite done anything wrong.

As expected while the night progressed, your coworkers were loud, rude and fully insufferable.

You and Mikey seemed miserable both, desperately trying to pretend you weren’t there when Rindou and Sanzu got into a biting argument about who was taller.

They both got a devastating blow to their self-esteem they realised Kokonoi was, in fact, taller than them both, which got them to start arguing about who’s dick is bigger.

You made a mental note to kill them all if they actually start comparing dicks.

To your relief, they didn’t, instead opting out for a few rounds of a poker drinking game with bullshit rules they made up themselves.

Sanzu was, shockingly, the best, barely having to take a sip all night, and you had to admit you found that at least a little admirable.

You just assumed he fried all his neurons a while ago.

Kokonoi and Kakucho, meanwhile, were failing desperately, and your eyebrows furrowed in worry at the speed the two men were forced to drink.

Fucking idiots, the whole lot of them.

You solemnly vowed to yourself that under no terms would you drive any of them to their house.

You were driving all of them to their house.

God fucking damn it.

Some of them had to be shoved out with a boot and a threat of a stabbing, while some, like Mikey, and shockingly, Ran, left the car quite politely.

You were in mid-pondering when will Ran realise you were in fact, driving his car, and, in fact, left with that same car, when you heard rather unpleasant gagging noises, followed by the sound of car doors opening and vomiting.

Thank God you were at the red light.

And Kakucho was the only one left in that damn back seat-

Fucking lovely.

Kazutora whistled from the balcony as he watched you try and fail to drag Kakucho into the apartment building.

“Damn. That is a nice ride- Does this mean I can quit my job and become the trophy husband you always dreamt of?”

You stopped to look up and glare at him, Kakucho’s arm firmly placed around your shoulder as he still dry heaved, face flushed red and his eyes watering.

“Shut the fuck up and help me take him upstairs!”

Kazutora saluted you as the only response.

You will smother him in his sleep.

Eventually, Tora did come and help you take Kakucho up to your apartment, handling the man more gently than you ever would, perfectly gentle and soft-spoken, borderline cooing, he helped the man take off his coat and shoes, before promptly taking him to the bathroom.

Frowning, you kicked off your shoes as well, following the two and finding Kakucho kneeling on the dark tiled floor in front of the toilet as Tora rubbed his back softly.

Your partner, ever the traitor, left as soon as you stepped in, mentioning how ‘It was your job because it was your coworkers’ and leaving you, the least caring person ever, in charge of this mess of a man.

Sighing, and after forcing one of Kazutora’s tiger-themed headbands with ears on Kakucho to keep his hair at least somewhat clean and out of his face, you sat on the floor next to him, considering your next move.

Maybe you should provide some comfort? You really had little in terms of experience with taking care of drunk people, usually, Tora was the only person you ever had to babysit, and he was usually perfectly content with you just hugging him from the back like a koala and holding his hair.

Hm.

Yeah, you’re not getting that close to Kakucho, no way, he probably had cooties.

Rubbing his back should be okay, though.

“There, there, big guy, get it all out- Yep, good job, like that. Want some water?”

Kakucho merely nodded, his throat dry and scratchy, a stabbing headache and nausea scrambling his brains until he could barely think, but water sounded nice.

Your hand on his back was cold enough to be felt through his shirt, and it felt soothing.

Briefly leaving to return with a bottle of water from the fridge, you uncapped it and offered it to Kakucho, who washed his mouth with the first sip, and downed the immediately, chugging it fast enough that you were genuinely shocked he didn’t choke on any and die on the spot.

He, unfortunately, was not able to keep any of it down, his stomach rejecting to hold any and all liquids, but hey, it was worth a shot.

You opted for wetting a washcloth with cold water and dabbing it on Kakucho’s face, one palm firmly placed on his cheek as you rotated it around knowing Kazutora and Baji liked that when they got sick from drinking, always saying it grounds them.

Maybe talking to Kakucho and reassuring him everything is fine will work too, after all, Chifuyu seemed to like it whenever he joined the other two in their benders and ended up requiring care.

Come to think of it, you only really knew how to take care of people based on Kazutora’s, Baji’s and Chifuyu’s needs.

Huh.

Maybe Kazutora was right in his insistence that you need more friends.

Lightly scratching Kakucho’s scalp, you leaned against the wall, gently telling him to hold on in there and that things will work out just fine, not to worry, this horrible state will pass soon enough, cooing that you’ll let him sleep in your bed, no need to break his back on the shitty couch.

What you did not anticipate, however, was for him to hug your leg firmly enough that you were certain he would break your femur, and start sobbing as he buried his face into your thigh.

Your brain short-circuited just in time for Kakucho to start hiccuping about ‘Missing him so much, he let me sleep on his bed when I was sick too, I miss him so much-‘

Yeah, no.

Not your area anymore, nope.

Nah.

Fuck this.

“KAZUTORA! KAZUTORA HANE-FUCKING-MIYA! HE’S CRYING! KAZUTORA, GET IN HERE! YOU KNOW I CAN’T WITH CRYING HUMANS- WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!”

🔖Taglist (open):

@dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @graythecoffeebean @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @nahoyas-nymph @one-green-frog @justrandomlypassing @kio-kookie @haikyuu-simps-assemble @ayhashi @tiredlattes @crown5 @medusalovessnakes @bblyerim @ohnoyouareasimp @sakinotfound @syddisheep @barcelona-sergei @solliver05 @vanillaashakee @gumiwaka @withlovetengen @naorizenin @bontensbabygirl @anahryal @luvjiro (second tag list in the comments!)

a/n: finally reviving this, no idea why i even stop posting it 😭

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #bonten x reader #bonten x you #kazutora x reader #kazutora x you #bonten #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #rindou haitani #kokonoi hajime #manjiro sano #haruchiyo sanzu #kazutora hanemiya

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