#why do i love toxic bob so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-4pphics · 1 year ago

Text

click! 4 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 6.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, angst… these hoes toxic, crazy sexual tension, kissing!!! :), fondling, dry humping, fingering!!, some dirty talk uh oh, slight unrequited love, bad communication… like awful, more slut shaming, mentions of awful parents, brief mention of alc and weed

This eucalyptus face mask is not doing what it’s supposed to!

Ultimate calming effect! Relaxation is at your feet and on your face!

… Yeah, right. Why is your blood pressure touching the ceiling, then?

It’s fucking Sunday and it’s dark outside. It’s not even seven yet. You can hear rustling in the living room and you know Ellie’s prepping for today. Your anxiety is through the roof and in the clouds!

Why the fuck did you accept this much responsibility again? What if you look like a fucking idiot and she fires you? Is this even a job if it’s a one-time thing? Your hands are sweating. Is it too late to jump out your window and plummet to your death?

Meow! Meow!

“Good morning, baby girl! Are you hungry?” You hear Ellie coo through the wall and your heart sores. You'd be smiling so wide if this mask wasn’t solid concrete.

You walk into the living room and are blinded by the bright ceiling lights. Your bill is going to skyrocket!

“Hi.”

Ellie, cat in arms, jumps at your voice, spinning to face you. Your skin is on fire as her eyes glaze over your appearance, cheeks tinting and fingers twitching under the thick fur.

“Hey… you look… you look nice,” She mutters back, and you smile.

“Thank you.”

Meow!

Ellie’s brow arches at the baby. “Yeah? You think so, too?”

Meow! Meow!

Ellie sets her down and lets her roam, shoving her hands into her sweats. She takes a step closer. “What’re we gonna name her?”

“Toothle— “

Ellie rolls her eyes, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking basic.”

“Well, excuse me! I’ll shut the fuck up!” You snark playfully, “What were you thinking, Ms. I don’t fuck with animals?”

“I already told yo— “

“AHT, AHT!” You hold a finger up to hush her and she scoffs, “Toothless is one of the best animated characters of our time! Loyal, cute as fuck! Fuck everybody else in that movie! Show the drag—”

“Pickle.”

“What.”

“I’ve been calling her Pickle! Her name is pickle.” Ellie’s smiling at the pattering kitten, and, for some reason, you don’t fight her on it. She looks so happy; Pickle it is.

She’s clicking her tongue at Pickle who rubs against her covered leg. With those gray sweats on, she’s luring two cats over—

“You ready?” Ellie exhales. Your eyes widen, yanked out of your drifting thoughts. You nod gently, jitters kicking in your fingertips.

“Sorry you had to wake up this early. It takes a while for me to edit and all that, but— “

“Ellie, don’t worry! I’m — I’m excited! Just, uh… Just guide me, I guess. You’re the one with the vision.” You’re not sure if the shoot or Ellie is making you nervous. She smells so good, freshly showered and warmth radiating off of her.

“… Guide you?” She smirks.

Suddenly, the air is hot. “Yeah, like… tell me what to do… f-for the shot.” You awkwardly point at the set.

“Giving me permission to use you?” She wisps and your lashes flutter, head bobbing dumbly in approval. The other cat has made her appearance! She’s meowing! Somebody stop her!

“Alright, then… go sit.” Ellie’s head nods towards the black stool in the middle of the backdrop, and you’re moving like a trackstar, plopping down on the stool. Ellie clicks her tongue again and Pickle meows.

“Gonna put her in my room for now. Don’t wanna scare her.” She scoops Pickle up and waddles into the short hallway, giving kit-kat one last kiss before softly shutting her door.

Your catless roomie is in front of you in an instant, fiddling with that big ass umbrella before adjusting her tripod.

“So, explain. What does all this do?”

“Um…” she looks through her camera lense. Right at you, “Different things. Has to do with light control for the most part. Red is your color, by the way.”

You gaze at your fit; You’re going to cry. “Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

Some silence passes before Ellie grumbles, “You’re slouching.”

Your shoulders instantly straighten. Maybe too much, “No, I’m not.”

A blank look from Ellie as she peeks from behind the lense, “Don’t slouch. You’re the star, remember?” She jabs jokingly. You take a deep breath. Another clumsy adjustment trying to find a pose.

Ellie snorts as she watches you struggle, and you pout. “I'm sorry! I don’t know…” You move like a robot and she laughs. Why is she walking closer? Oh, fuck—

“Here.” Her hands grab your shoulders, and you go lax, right in her grasp, allowing her to move you however she wants. Her touch is melting your skin through your sleeves.

“Just… stay there.” Three wide steps, and she’s behind her camera, “Chin down a little.” She mutters. She’s encouraging with every instruction you follow, and you’re relaxing. Your movements are small, but by the series of bright flashes, they must be good enough to capture. You hope. Please, God.

“Stay right there. That’s perfect.”

“That’s it. Yeah, put your leg there.”

“Twist your body a little.”

I like that look, that’s good. Keep doing that.

You don’t know what your eyes are doing, but Ellie's eating it up. She doesn’t know what her words are doing for your confidence. She’s in your ears, in your presence, encouraging everything you’re giving the flashing camera. Your poses get bolder, eyes going softer the more you inspect her.

“Chin down again. Like… look through your lashes…”

Ellie’s so focused on you and it’s making your mouth water. She’s so calm and controlling, but not overbearing. She lets you take the reins and yanks them when she’s got something. The twist of your wrist, the flutter of your lashes, the doting expression on your face. It’s sparking something in her, you can see it from where you sit. She's so attractive when she’s working.

And then she smiles and your heart leaps. Flash.

“You like this.” She notes.

Another flash when you smile, “A little. This is fun.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m getting booked for your grad pics?”

Not if you fail statistics! “Gonna have to ask my dad! He’s picky!”

She hums with a light chuckle. “You look good in these. He’ll like me.”

More flashes, and there’s scratching at Ellie’s door. She sighs like it pains her to continue, “Hold on, baby! Almost done!” She coos at Pickle.

She mutters, “I’m gonna take, like… ten more. The mood’s gonna change a little if that’s cool.”

You stop yourself from slouching. “Sure, uh… what do I do now?”

“Imagine love as a vice. Think about the turmoil that comes with losing that feeling for somebody.”

Your mind instantly whirls to Dina and your heart cracks. What a turn of fucking events!

“Um… is that like… isn’t that like, a lot?”

Ellie’s unfazed, “Emotions are a lot. That’s the point.”

You don’t like this anymore. Vulnerability. Blegh. “… Okay.”

She’s waiting on you, but you’re frozen. You can’t stop thinking about every moment you and Dina spent together. Everything was so… good. It was filled with happiness. You anticipated every day that came because it meant you’d see her.

“Alright?”

You look up at Ellie’s call. You ignore her.

“Am I emoting well?” You snicker sarcastically. You’re aching inside.

She studies you, all over your face, but you’re stunted. You don’t know what to say.

“Yes.” She whispers, and you nod, mind wandering to the darkest parts of your memory. You miss being happy. The camera’s flashing, but you’re unperturbed. How much will you be able to ruin before you die? If your wallowing is jeopardizing the shot, Ellie doesn’t comment on it. You focus on the clock ticks coming from the kitchen.

Ellie’s gentle voice pulls you from underwater after a while, “Okay… I think that’s it.” Your breath is ragged and your fingers won’t stop twitching. You’re up from your seat with a breathy okay, sliding into the kitchen and stealing a water bottle from the fridge. There’s cluttering behind you but you’re desperately downing your drink.

She's closer than you think. Right behind you, actually! You almost choke when her hand softly closes around your bicep.

“Hey, um… You okay?”

You swallow harshly and nod, blinking away tears; She’s so close, “Love fucking sucks.” You joke wetly.

A laugh that caresses your ears escapes her, “Damn. Fuck that shit, then.”

“Finally, someone gets it! Fuck, like…” You set your water down and wipe away heavy droplets with your free arm. Ellie’s eyes travel over your face, lands of green sparkling in her pupils.

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” She whispers.

“Of course!” Your smile is delicate, “I hope there’s something in there you can use.”

Her head shakes, smile as gentle as rose petals, “I got it, trust me.”

The silence that follows is heavy, your breaths in sync. “Was… Are you okay?” You’ve never seen her eyes this delicate. You nod, eyes dropping to her mouth on instinct. You’re suddenly back in your car, you and Ellie leaning over the center console to get to each other. Her breath is hitting your face again, and you’re itching for her to kiss you.

She’s reading your body language the closer she gets, checking in, memorizing every green light you’re giving her.

“Ellie…” You can’t even hear yourself. Her hand unravels from your arm, frosting your sizzling cheek like snowflakes. Her warmth is engulfing you, and with one last breath, her lips connect with yours. It's short lasting, though. Ellie pulls away, shock plastered on her face.

She's stuttering and slowly backing away… or something like that. You’re not listening, nor do you want an apology. You grab the drawstring dangling from her gray hoodie and yank her closer, mouth pressing against hers.

Ellie’s stiffness melts, weightless against you as your mouths mold together. She's sighing, arm wrapping around your waist, warmth simmering between your closed bodies. Your arms wrap around her neck as she inches forward, small steps until you're pressed against the marble.

The kiss is slow and steady. You both give in to each other, studying, memorizing every inch of her mouth. Gentle smacks sound in the silent space of the kitchen, clammy hands traveling anywhere they can reach: the nape of her neck, massages on your hips, steadying your stumbles as you push against her. Your fingers inch upwards until they're at her sloppily done bun, loosening the hair tie and pulling as gently as you can, soft strands wrapping around your digits like vines.

Ellie’s humming and her hips push against you, so you pull again, smiling gently into the kiss. She pushes again, harder this time, hips languid as they trap you against the counter. Your thighs widen for her, and she takes the lead, hands digging into your thighs and lifting you onto the granite.

The kiss turns desperate swiftly after, Ellie’s tongue pushing past your mouth, her hands slowly pulling your tucked shirt from your pants. You’re biting at her lip, caressing her thighs over her sweats, trapping her between your legs, keeping her close.

One last wet smack and you’re traveling down her jaw to the side of her neck, littering kisses all over her burning skin. You try not to make your inhales too obvious, but you can’t help it. Her scent drives you up a wall.

She follows your lead, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking the skin, lightly scratching at the skin on your hips. She yanks you closer, nearly sitting you on top of her, ass barely on the counter—

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

You both jolt like you’ve been caught, a thin line of spit connecting your bottom lips.

“Expecting someone?” She mumbles dazedly, and you silently deny. “Are you?”

“Be serious.” She says flatly.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

The pounds on the door aren’t shit to Ellie, apparently; Her lips are back on you in a second. A gasp surges through you, “Oh, fuck! What if someone saw Pickle and they’re tryna— “

“She’ll be fine,” she whines between suckles on your throat.

You whimper wantonly, but the knocks get aggressive. It has to be Carol! You don’t want Ellie to stop, but you push her.

“E—Ellie— “

She releases you with an annoyed huff, giving you enough room to hop off the counter. Scratches and meows alert you once more, and you run to the front door, whisper-yelling to Ellie, “Hide Pickle! Hide her!”

“Okay, okay, damn,” She sighs in annoyance, heading back down the hallway. You can hear Ellie’s soft shushes to the kitty, meows swiftly replaced with purrs. You think Pickle has chosen her favorite parent.

You yank the door open and your heart plummets.

“Hey, uh… hi.” Abby’s voice cracks and her nose is glowing red. Your heart pulls in your chest at the sight of her soft eyes.

“Hi, Abby,” You say softly. She shyly peers at her feet. “How are you?”

A soft smile spreads across her face, “I’m not here to talk about me, I wanna apologize. I, um… I wanted to call but I thought I’d do it in person.”

“No need. I’m sorry, to— “

But Abby isn’t having it, dropping onto one knee in the middle of the complex hallway, taking your hand in hers, “Oh, how I treated Thee, for I am full of regret. What do I owe Thou the pleasure of forgiveness?”

You holler laughter, “Bitch, is that a question? What the fuck do I say to that.”

“… I actually don’t know, what the fuck— “

“You’re actually the fucking worst, get up,” You’re pulling your friend to her feet and wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing light kisses to her cheek. She lifts you and carries you inside, kicking the door shut.

“Was it Carol?”

You barely hear your roommate from behind you. Abby sets you down, and you’re met with a… blank Ellie. This version of her is almost unfamiliar.

“Hm?”

“Was,” Her eyes flicker towards your friend, “Was it Carol?” Your eyes flicker to Abby, confused as ever.

“Um, no, thank God, right?” You laugh awkwardly, “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is Ellie, my new roomie.”

Abby slaps on her signature smile, extending her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you. I heard a lot.”

Ellie’s eyes flicker between Abby’s hand and her face, eyes squinted. She only nods before murmuring to you, “Pickle’s fed. Lock the door if you leave.”

Your mouth drops, but before you can say anything, Ellie’s door slams shut, lock clicking, barricading herself, shut off from the outside. Pickle scurries into your open space at the noise. A stunned Abby finally drops her hand and turns to you with an expression reading I told you so. Your heart jolts and it’s painful.

“C’mon,” Abby coos, hands massaging your shoulders, “I owe you pancakes.”

You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not like it should at the mention of a free meal. For some reason, you feel guilty.

IHOP needs to have their holiday menus all year round; These cinnamon roll pancakes are fucking lethal! You shoved your platter down and already want seconds. Abby’s too sweet to you.

“Abby.”

“Hm?” She gnaws at her turkey bacon.

“I’m in a predicament.”

“What’s the matter.”

“I think I like Ellie.”

Your friend pauses before sighing, “Alright. So, what’s the plan?”

“To die, I think. That’s the only plan.”

“Don’t say that,” she chuckles. You shrug.

“We made out and I liked it,” You whisper, “Like, a lot.”

“Did y’all smash?” You shake your head.

“Are you gonna tell her?”

You scoff, “Did you miss the part where I said to die? I’d rather die. She hates my fucking guts all over again.”

“I don’t think she does.”

“You don’t know her, Abby— “

“I know a jealous munch when I see one,” She smirks, “I was one for a long time.”

Your jaw drops, “Really? With who?”

She grins, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.”

You pout. Why didn’t she tell you?! Poor thing. You place a comforting hand on top of hers.

“Promise to tell me before graduation. I need some shit to look forward to.”

“Like you’re gonna remember.”

“Fuck off! I never forget anything!”

“Yeah, anyway, your roomie was jealous— “

Your shoulders drop and your eyes roll. Ellie and jealousy? Together? Bullshit. Tomfoolery. Fake news.

“Abby, I can't tell her— “

“Can’t or won’t?” Abby arches a brow, “You know what you do and don’t want. You’re creating stupid rules that combat your feelings and wonder why you end up hurt. Cut it out.”

… Either face your fears of abandonment or die alone. Interesting ultimatum. You choose the latter.

“You’re very easy to read, believe it or not. You like her. Accept it or move on,” Abby mumbles around her extra-crispy hash brown.

You sigh. You’ve accepted it a long time ago; That's the issue. The only thing that can help you right now is more fucking cinnamon roll pancakes. Abby better leave this apology tab open.

You’re hit with the usual warmth of the apartment the second you step in, finding Ellie on the couch with her feet kicked up, mindlessly fiddling with your favorite pen. Her silence makes your skin crawl; You never know what she’s thinking.

“So, what,” You shrug, setting your to-go bag on the counter, “Are you just gonna pout or are we gonna have an adult conversation?”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” She mumbles.

“What does that mean?”

“It means what it sounds like. You’re fucking immature and inconsiderate.”

Your heart nearly stops, “I’m— “

She slices through your words, “Save that I don’t know what you mean bullshit for someone else. If you and that bitch are still fucking, why the fuck did you kiss me?”

Her accusation makes you snap, “First of all, I haven’t fucked Abby in weeks! And even if I did, that’s none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and I don’t need to explain myself to you! And you kissed me first so don’t start!”

A grin grows on Ellie face, head tipping back onto the couch as she laughs to herself, sighing in disbelief, “I never thought I would regret a kiss so much in my fucking life, oh my god.”

You scoff, ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, “Fuck you.”

“You want to.”

You hate how heat builds in your stomach, “I want to?” You snark, “You shoved your tongue in my mouth a few hours ago. You want to. Don’t fucking piss me off.”

You stomp to your room before Ellie can say anything above her laughter. Your door slams and you pace across your small room. You ignore the stress building deep in your joints; The term is almost over. You don’t need this fucking bullshit on your back right now!

To think you and Ellie were starting to get on good terms. If she wants to play that game, then fine; You’ve mastered the sport at this point! The kiss meant nothing to you either!

You hope her Christmas is fucking awful and she finds nothing but a pile of fucking rocks in her marijuana sock. What a cunt—

Meow! Meow!

Your heart pulls at the small scratches at your door. You need your baby to give you some love since a certain someone won’t. Pickle calls out until you open the door, but your sad smile disappears at the sight of that someone propped against your door frame.

“She wanted her mommy.” Ellie nods down at the kitten rubbing against your leg.

“Fuck you.” You spit.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!” You shout and lean closer, but she doesn’t seem threatened. That same sparkle in her eye is back, and, suddenly, your body’s flaming for another reason. The tip of her nose twitches, once, twice, three times, and you refuse to hold back any longer.

You grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her as hard as you can. She’s so fucking aggravating; Why can’t she ever mind her fucking business? You’re sick of her clocking your pussy! The kiss is hot and quick and it sends vibrations down to your toes. It’s not until gentle purring fills your ears that you gasp and separate from your roommate.

You bend down to pick up your little princess. Ellie’s lips reconnect with your neck the second you're upright. “Did she eat?” You mutter.

“Mhm. Twice.” You nod and kiss her small, furry head, “She’s gonna be scratching at the door.” You ponder to yourself.

“We’ll make it quick,” She mumbles in between harsh sucks to your throat, nibbles at your lobe. You escape the attention for a split second to grab Pickle’s small toy mouse from your dresser, tossing it down the hall and into the living room. Her small paws skip across the floor as she slides the trinket all over the hardwood.

“We’re not fucking.” You say harsher than necessary.

“I didn’t ask.”

You gently shut the door and jump Ellie’s bones, releasing all your pent-up frustration and anger into another kiss. The formerly gentle tugs of her hair are replaced with harsh yanks that expose her throat. Seconds pass and she’s pushing you onto your unmade bed, body bouncing before she climbs on top of you, reconnecting your mouths in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever shared… It’s doing something to your cooter, though. You’re wet as fuck.

Ellie’s fully onto top of you, body almost overheating from the layers of clothes between you. Her hips are sharp when they push into yours, swallowing all your stunned gasps and pleasured sighs. Your body is on fire and it’s making you lightheaded, but she feels so good on top.

Ellie’s cursing against your mouth and she bucks into you, right against the muscle of your thigh, and you just watch the flames spread in her orbs. Not the comforting greenery that you could get lost in for days. The trees are black and surrounded by clustered rubble. She’s grunting against your cheek, her nose hitting yours with every thrust.

A bold hand creeps between both your bodies and slips right into her wrinkly sweats, beneath her underwear, fingers drenched in seconds. You smirk when she whimpers your name between swears, palming the bud that throbs like a beating heart. Blush tints her cheeks the wetter she gets, pooling in your hand as you grind into her clit.

Ellie’s cute. You’ll give her that. So, you rub her harder.

“Agh, fuck, fuck— “

You're snickering to yourself but Ellie doesn’t care. She’s whining like a little bitch and humping you like a dog…

Does she top? You should ask her after this. Post-nut gay quiz.

“Finger me, put your— oh shit— “

“Hmm…” You suck your teeth, “Nah.”

She glares down at you, leaving fiery holes in your cheek, “Don’t f—fucking piss me off right now.”

You halt all your movements. “That’s all you’ve been doing since you got in this bitch. Shut the fuck up and take what I give you…” You pause, “Or get the fuck off me. Your choice.”

A full one-eighty, truly. How she goes from looking at you with intent to kill to a wounded puppy in seconds. Poor thing wants a treat. Your entire hand is drenched in her juices; She can wait a little longer.

“You ate my fucking Doritos.”

“W—What?” She sounds like she’s going to cry. You can’t stop smiling.

Slow circles on her clit, and her body wracks on top of you, “The ones I hid in the cabinet… Nasty little thief. Gonna buy me some more?”

Her breathing is so rapid, “You’re so s—stupid fuck— “

“You’re gonna do more than that… gonna show me what’s in that fucking portfolio like you promised.” You whisper, hot against her face.

This is the strangest dirty talk you’ve ever partaken in, but Ellie’s losing it on top of you. She hasn’t shut up yet. She’s hiding her face in your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You don’t know what she said, so you stop again. She sobs.

You sound sweeter than candy, “What was that?”

Ellie doesn’t answer. Just pants into your skin. You pat her clit a few times and she jerks to attention. “I asked you a question.”

“Feels,” She heaves, “Feels so fucking good— “

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“I’ll show you — fuck, okay? Okay, okay, m’so close— “

Your thumb brushes against her clit, “I wanna see it after you nut.”

She gasps words miles per minute, “I promise, Ipromise, touch me keep touching me— “

Ellie attempts to grind into your hand once more, but you stretch, slippery fingers sliding lower until the tip of your index catches onto her pulsing hole. You can barely hear, but she’s begging. Thank God you trimmed your nails.

You push in gently, Ellie’s teeth grazing the skin right underneath your ear. A shiver runs down your spine. She grins before biting down on it. You moan into the boiling air. Your finger gets swallowed by her walls; She’s so fucking tight and soft and she’s clenching with every moan, your thighs squeezing around her hips.

Ellie continues to grind on top of you, practically riding your finger, her moans increasing in volume.

“E-Ellie, look at me, sit up—“ She doesn’t hesitate, clammy forehead resting on yours as you stare into her glossy, lustful eyes. They’re fluttering with every deep grind of your arched digit and your heart skips a beat.

“Gimme one more, stretch me out,” she exhales onto your lips

“Sure?” You breathe.

She groans, “Yeah, fuck, m’gonna cum when you do— “

“You gotta cute face,” you whisper and giggle when her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, middle finger popping past the small entrance

“Fuck, babe, s’right there— “

Your walls clench at the name. Now you’re whining, “Gimme it. Hurry up so I can play with my kid.”

“O-Our fucking kid—“ She chokes.

You hum playfully, “Oddly domestic. Is this what marriage is like? Quickies in the laundry room when the baby’s watching Cocomelon?”

“No — fuck, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You can’t even move from hard her walls are choking you, “M’cumming, Jesus fucking— son of a— “

Ellie’s walls grip your fingers as she trembles on top of you, lips crashing onto yours as she groans in your mouth, and you smile. You should’ve spit on her tongue, but you held back. She’s not ready. Fucking gremlin.

Her orgasm rocks her into exhaustion, her body going completely limp on top of you as her hips twitch into your touch. You stare up at the ceiling, mind racing.

You technically didn’t fuck! Your pussy is quite convincing. You didn’t, but you want to!

“We didn’t fuck.” You mumble.

She huffs dryly, voice low. Here comes the goosebumps! “Sure.”

“We didn’t,” you bemoan and pull out, slick smearing on both your clothes before you present the wet digits in front of your face. Ellie finally lifts her head to join the inspection of your drenched, wrinkly fingers. She smells good.

“Go wash your hands,” she croaks.

“Mind your business.” You suck them clean and she snorts, rolling off and onto the bed. You sit up to open the door for Pick-Pick, but Ellie grabs your bicep.

“What?”

“You… You don’t want to…?”

You look around blankly.

“Do you want me to do something… like an exchange?”

You’re not sure how to answer, but thankfully, curious meows and light scratching distract the both of you. You’re moving like a robot into the living room, Ellie right on your tail, cooing at the baby who rubs all over her.

You take a seat on the… lavender-scented cushion. She bought a new freshener.

“Ellie.”

“What.”

“I don’t like you.”

A scoff from her, “I don’t care.”

You pause. “… Wanna sniff my punani?” You mock.

She takes a seat, swiftly followed by Pickle, and turns her head in your direction, lip between her teeth, “Can I?”

“What.”

“Just a whiff.” She hums between snickers. The sensors in your brain are on fire. Ellie is so confusing.

You scratch your ear, stealing her habit, “You… You want to?”

She grabs your discarded pen from the coffee table, “You want me to?”

Yes. “No.”

Ellie nods and continues to fiddle with it, obnoxiously clicking it over and over. She doesn’t fight you on it. How embarrassing. You really need head.

Your eyes meet your sock-covered feet, “… I was just kidding,” You mumble.

More pen clicking. “Come here for a second.” Your feet carry you at her grumble, plopping down onto the lavender-scented cushion. New freshener.

“Is this gonna be… a regular thing?”

Your head shakes a ton. It most definitely will not. You can’t take your eyes off how Ellie flips her pen. Her hands are bewitching. You need them in your throat again.

“I think we… just needed to get it out of our system?” You suggest. Unfortunately, it seems neither of you are convinced.

Pickle climbs up your sweatshirt, head rubbing against your chin. You peck her nose, “Why do you think that.” Ellie asks.

“I’m not fucking someone I live with.” Your words are blunt, but Ellie doesn’t seem shaken by them.

“Why.”

“Because.” You say with finality.

She sighs, “Because you’re scared of getting your feelings hurt by someone you care about again?”

The bomb she drops is unexpected, but causes even more damage. Your shoulders immediately tense, on guard, “What the fuck…” How did she…

Ellie winces, “Don’t uh… don’t be mad…”

“Why the fuck— how do you even know that?”

“Dina told me.” She blurts and you jump from your seat, glowering at the girl who sheepishly taps her fingers on the couch.

“The fuck do you mean Dina told you— “

More word-vomit. How long was she holding this shit from you? “S-She was my roommate. She’s the reason I got evicted— “

Your throat is closing, “…Is this a fucking joke?”

Ellie cowers at your tone, “Not really.”

“When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re friends with my fucking ex?!”

“We’re not friends!” She says meekly. “And you weren’t official— “

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Ellie! What the fuck!” Your efforts of holding tears back fail, as usual. You’re sick of crying in front of this broad. “She fu—fucking ruined my life!” The stares you get will never fail to make you sick.

Ellie’s eyes remind you of glass. Breakable. You holler through sniffles, “Is that why you called me a fucking slut! Because that bitch told you some fake ass, fucked-up story about me whoring around campus?!”

“Dude, I’m— “

“I fucked over the sweetest fucking girl on campus, right? The world’s best fucking pitcher got her heart broken by some low-life fucking artist with no future!” You rant until your breath is short, “I was fucking in love with her! I-I wanted to be with her, I would’ve died for her! I’m— “

Your hands desperately grasp at your chest to get your heart to ease the knocking against your ribcage.

“You think I-I’m fucking easy, right? That’s why you came onto me earlier? ‘Cuz I’m a fucking whore?! A desperate sl—slut with no self-worth— “

The space you found comfort in is rapidly filling with darkness; You’re being sucked into a void of nothing and you can’t think. Ellie doesn’t move, just stares over you with feeble pupils, hand clutched around that pen, the end of it leaving an indent in her sweats.

Pickle plops down onto your feet as you cry. You take her into your arms and hold her as close as possible, scurrying into your room. You fall back against the door and it slams, sliding down the wood as Kit-Kat nuzzles your chin. She’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world. How could such an angel be left in the snow to die?

Time moves in a blur as you weep. Your mom would’ve held you if she were here.

What you would give for some parental guidance. You almost called your father.

Almost.

Click, click, click, click, click—

One, two, three, four. Breathe in, Breathe out. Five, six—

Thank God for your fucking custom pen. The noise is enough to distract her from breaking down in your tiny living room. She should’ve snagged Pickle before you did; She needs a fucking hug.

Ellie hates being yelled at. More than anything. More than you. God, she fucking despises you.

You look and sound nothing like her mother, but you’re oddly alike. She pondered whether or not that was the reason she was drawn to you; She always finds herself trapped in spaces with fucking deflectors.

She hasn’t even begun editing the photos from earlier. At this point, she doesn’t even want to use them. It’s a shame your eyes are so expressive; She would’ve burned the pictures she took of you the second you left with that bitch if she wasn’t so crunched for time. She needs to submit them so she can get the fuck out of here.

You’d be an excellent actress; You have emotions down pact on camera. The dark part of her brain convinced her that you were thinking of her with that doting, yearnful look in your eye.

The photography company keeps sending her emails about completing her work profile and her fucking portfolio submission. That’s the only form of motivation she has left, and even then, she hasn’t revisited those photos. She doesn’t have much time to make them perfect.

Ellie swallows the lump in her throat over and over, thumb pressing down, down, down. She can’t stop clicking your fucking pen. Just don’t cry.

Your sobs almost get her there, almost push her over the edge, but she shuts her eyes and counts each click, matching them with every heave she releases. You, somehow, sound just like her fucking mom.

And Ellie, despite the backwards relationship between the two of you, still fucking kissed you. She should’ve died right there in front of you. What a fucking joke.

But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She’s never experienced affection like that; It was passionate and made her itch with a desire she hasn’t felt in a long time. All she wants is for someone to love her, hold her like you did, touch her like you did. She’s never felt that euphoric in her life, never witnessed so many bright colors at once.

Whoever told her being alone was easy was a fucking liar. No one should wake up and want to die every day, so why does she? Everyone thinks she prefers silence, but she doesn’t. Ellie craves contact in all forms. In any form. Desperately.

Why did it have to be you? Why the fuck did it have to be you.

Her brain is telling her she can’t wait to move out, so why is her heart amidst decay whenever she thinks about it? She’s going to suffocate in here, so she rises, pen still in hand, and snags her puffer and beanie from the couch. Her feet shove into her boots and she’s out, the front door slamming shut. She didn’t even bother to lock it.

Ellie takes the stairs and leaves the building on autopilot, no destination in mind. Just stomping through the splintering cold like a fucking yeti. Every breath oxidizes in a cloud before her as she recalls where she fumbled with you.

Dina.

Ellie’s cold hands frost her face as she wipes it, making sharp turns and stumbling on ice. She wants to go home; She misses her dad.

Dina seems to be the only thing you two have in common. You both might hate her more than each other. The horror she felt when her ex-roommate taped that eviction notice on her door is incomparable. Ellie was a struggling entrepreneur and practically fucking homeless overnight. All because Dina’s new fucking side piece.

Ellie and Dina, friends. Wait until she tells you about how she almost beat her and her girlfriend’s ass. If you’re even willing to listen at this point.

Ellie continues to walk, hands tucked under her armpits. At least she’s not simmering anymore in her rage anymore. She blocks down the way when she realizes she forgot her fucking phone. This would’ve been a perfect time to cry to her old man.

You’re not out of Ellie’s system at all. You’ve, unfortunately, claimed residency inside of her.

You’re scribbling with spilled wine on your shirt, outside noise muffled by the plugs in your ears. You don't recall leaving your room, grabbing a bottle and downing its contents, but the remnants of broken glass acts as a decent reminder.

Your hand is cramping from its grip on a new pen, but you can’t stop gliding the tip across the sixth sheet of printer paper. You hate what you’re drawing; The details are perfect, inked scratches practically muscle memory, and you despise it. It’s always her.

You’re going to be alone for a very long time. You’re too destructive for companionship, you’ve learned. How ironic: the one aspect of life you crave is becoming your demise, and your downfall is going to be tortuous. Recovery is never long lasting for you.

So, you sketch. And scratch. And erase, start again, hoping, praying, for an outcome that doesn’t feel so lost. You’re destroyed and desperate to find comfort. Was your father right when he called you sick at age twelve? Maybe something is truly wrong with you. Maybe one of the reasons why you constantly push and mask and hide.

Every insecurity you’ve garnered in high school is flourishing in adulthood, thick as vines and as strong as tree bark. Deflection is an art that you’ve mastered out of preservation; Too bad it’s trapped you in isolation.

The green in Ellie’s eyes holds stories. Somehow, this month feels like centuries. Centuries of studying the mass area of blossoming, healthy land beneath her pupils. Her eyes are sacred, almost too sacred to manipulate, but you draw them anyway.

You want to touch her again. You want her to touch you. Just one last time. You’re already a fucking failure; One last mistake wouldn’t hurt.

A teardrop musses the paper, so you scrap it like the others and start again. Ellie’s eyes are too pretty to be smudged.

You can’t stay here anymore. You hope Amaya understands. You hope Ellie understands.

You’d give anything to be able to call your mother.

You hear the front door open and close for the hundredth time tonight, followed by swift clicks of a pen. Guilt floods your system. You peer at a sleeping Pickle on your mattress before standing, opening your door to see Ellie entering hers. Your intoxicated brain notes the sex lighting in her room; Red LED. You talk before thinking.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She jumps and turns at your cracked voice, eyes red. She smoked; you can smell it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— “

“I’m submitting my portfolio in the morning. I’ll be out by Christmas.” She says, monotone. Lifeless.

A dry huff escapes your closed throat. Your heart is breaking. Just a little, “I guess, uh… I can’t see it anymore, huh?” She doesn’t answer.

“Do you regret taking those pictures?” She mumbles.

You don't hesitate, “Not at all.”

She nods. The silence that follows is thick, weighing at both of your shoulders, holding you in place. Ellie’s breathing is finally steady, and it’s calming.

“Go to bed.” She whispers before entering her room, gently shutting it behind her. Some tears fall before you follow her lead.

Pickle is sitting on the edge of your bed, just watching you. You smile sadly and whisper, “At least you love me, right?”

A gentle blink from her. You sob; Another pair of green eyes to bring you comfort.

“I love you, too.”

heyyyy: @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane @muthafuckingstargirl @mina-281 @yuckyfucky @aimformyheartt @elstoy @skylerwhitwyo @sawaagyapong @nil-eena @dewylittlestars @sakiigami @feelsoseencantdream @ellieslittlegf @fictionalgap @liabadoobee @whooknooows @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @qtgaslighter @p4ison1vy @eviestevie-14 @weaselot @elliewbbg @elsmissingfingers @lmaoo-spiderman @lyssaspengler @elliewilliamsmunch @gummydummykj @kiwikeysblog @juniorsfav @louleele @alittlextrahoney @tohoko @333-starhotline @girlkissersco @saplingkoi @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @diddiqueen @alexisvs-world @mostlyhornyandsad @lolaaa699999 @elsblunt @niyahlovesu @randomhoex @sunnmoon @elliesaesp @callmewhenyoukan @rubycruzsbitch

#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x black!reader #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

1K notes · View notes

netherfeildren · 9 months ago

Text

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; Brief mention of virginity loss; Brief blood mention; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him.

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it.

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse.

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you.

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want.

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks.

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come.

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too.

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do.

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby.

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to.

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap.

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also.

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you.

Sameness.

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as.

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms.

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it.

“Good girl,” he says now with voice.

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved.

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else.

Your love too.

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now.

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper.

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness.

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance.

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you.

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is.

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up.

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now.

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership.

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous.

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking.

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude.

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world.

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful.

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise.

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you.

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well.

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now.

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house.

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail.

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him.

He stares up at them now.

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie.

“A good kind or a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then.

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game.

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

Updates Blog

#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

460 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

being with toxic people on Christmas eve, hurt/comfort with eddie + shy!reader, because this is my situation and I'm projecting 😔

i'm so sorry angel! i hope this makes you feel a wee bit better!! — when being around family gets too hard, eddie makes everything feel easy again (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends in love, tw for brief mentions of toxic family, 1.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

December is bitter, glittering, and terribly cold.

The crisp chill takes your breath away when you storm out into it. It burns your lungs and scratches at your chest like a living thing with claws. When the initial shock of wintry dreariness fades, you take your first deep breath in all day.

You feel somehow less alone out here by yourself than you did inside your own house. The falling snow keeps you company in a way your family never could. The empty, faint pink sky drapes over you like a fuzzy blanket.

You think you’d rather freeze out here — in the peaceful, early-winter melancholy — than step foot back home.

You walk down the gravel path of the trailer park with snow crunching beneath your feet. The sound is soft and hollow and pleasant. The piling crystalline dampens your sneakers as your legs move on their own. Muscle memory at its finest.

You gravitate towards the Munson trailer without thinking twice ‘cause the safest thing you know is waiting for you there — standing on his snowy front porch, smoking a cigarette, and shivering under a thick flannel coat that’s obviously older than he is.

A quiet smile lifts the corners of your mouth when you see him.

Eddie’s winter-kissed features twist in concern at the sight of you, all alone and in the dark. “The hell are you doing out here?” he asks in place of any real greeting, breath leaving his rosy, chapped lips in a thin white cloud. “It’s freezing!”

You know this. The cold is impossible to ignore. You were just too eager to get out of your house, too eager to get here, that you forgot to notice how much your frigid limbs were aching.

“I wanted to see you,” you confess in a tiny voice, as light as the falling snow sticking to your hair and sweater.

Eddie’s chest swirls with warmth. Suddenly it’s summer, and everything’s golden instead of navy blue and bitter. With a sudden longing to close the distance between you, he says, “Get up here before you freeze to death.”

You climb up the steps of his porch without a word of complaint from your mouth. You gravitate towards him like he’s the sun, a bright yellow thing that makes the winter seem less dreary. You ache to be near him just the same, to hold him with your frozen hands until you’re warm again.

He reaches for the lapel of his coat, and you think he might take it off for you — swaddle you in its warmth like they do in the movies. Despite the swarm of butterflies the thought stirs in your stomach, you’d rather him keep it on. You don’t want him to suffer just because you forgot to put on a jacket before rushing here.

Only Eddie doesn’t take it off. He keeps it on and ushers you closer with a silent nod of his wild head. He wraps you up in it with him — with his palm on your back, his curls tickling your forehead, and his heart against your heart.

You bury a final sigh of relief into his Corroded Coffin tee, thankful to be in his arms. He soothes you with the familiar scent of his musky cologne, heals you with the kindness of his touch. He opens suns inside your heart and makes you forget how cold you used to be.

“What happened?” Eddie asks, chin bobbing against your head. He snuffs out his cigarette on the small ashtray on the wooden railing, then swipes a hand over your hair to brush off the snowflakes sticking to you. “Why aren’t you at home?”

You make a vague I don’t know sound, muffled into his chest. “I just needed to be outside for a second,” you say finally, so soft your words get buried in the whistling wind. In a strained and fragile voice, you tell him, “It’s so loud back home.”

Eddie knows that’s not totally the truth. You didn’t leave in such a hurry that you forgot to put on a coat just because it was loud. You decided it was more important to risk freezing on your way to him than stay where you were, so it must be more than you let on.

Eddie doesn’t pry, though. Just holds you tighter.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he says in a sympathetic sigh.

You can hear music playing from inside the trailer — Steve Miller Band, you think, or maybe Lynyrd Skynyrd. Uncle Wayne loves both, and their rhythmic guitar shakes the walls of the old house accordingly. The Munson clan’s closest friends and family manage to shout over it all, mixed with loud laughter and something warm.

It doesn’t sound as mean as the shouting you’re most familiar with.

“How long do I have you before your folks start hunting me down?” Eddie asks, lips curled into a smile against your head.

“As long as you want,” you answer with a sad laugh. “No one’s coming to look for me.”

Eddie nods despite his stinging chest and sways you gently back and forth.

“Good. I wanted you all to myself— It’s what I asked for for Christmas, actually.”

You snort a disbelieving scoff.

“I’m serious!” he insists with a loud laugh. You feel the rumble of the boyish noise against the apple of your cheek. “I put the letter in the little Santa mailbox on Main Street and everything!”

“Well, I’m glad I could make your wish come true,” you joke with a conceding sigh. You pull slightly back from him, only enough to see his face. You find him smiling down at you, a pink grin that shows all his teeth. Beautiful. Warm. Sunlit.

You try to smile back. It’s a little too forced and ends up looking like a wince.

Eddie’s face twists in concern. Still smiling, just a little softer now. “You’re okay, right?”

You nod at first. ‘Cause you feel like that’s what you’re supposed to do. Then you realize it’s Eddie, and you shrug. “Now I am,” you answer finally, quiet in your subtle confession.

His rosy grin widens. “That is very cheesy,” he teases with a twinkle in his dark eyes. He squints them a second later. “You’re not flirting with me, are you?”

Your face burns hot as you laugh out loud. “No!”

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” he jokes, pouting now.

“Shut up.”

He shrugs. “I just thought we had something going here.”

“Are you flirting with me, Eddie Munson?”

“Of course I am!” he blurts with a laugh you can feel in your chest. “I’m surprised it took you this long to notice.”

You figure he must be joking, so you shove him away with a halfhearted hand. He pulls you back into him with gentle fingers wrapped around your arms, and you let him — resting your cheek against his shoulder with every intention of melting with him.

There’s something innately sweet about his presence. His warmth. This closeness. And this silent sense of understanding you share.

You don’t want to think about what you’re running from anymore.

You’re just glad you ended up here.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

685 notes · View notes

xodarling · 7 months ago

Note

can you plsplspls write something with the reader realizing she might actually be falling for rocker!beidou and hating herself for it but she can't stop?? pls on my knees (like during mid-fuck maybe or during aftercare)

sorry, i don’t want your touch. - xodarling

includes: fem!reader, this is barely smut focused, but it does have smut, angst idk, fluff kinda, riding, handjobs, making out, love confessions, comfort, crying, blowjob, dom!beidou, toxic relationship, happy ending yippee, down bad!beidou, ooc beidou prob, horrible standards

a/n: NO. fine. this is SOOO out my comfort zone so sorrgy if it sucks (it does suck)

beidou just… aggravated you to no end. she has this dumb smile on her every time she sees you and her eyes just light up when you make eye contact. just insufferable! the fact that the sex in this what was supposed to be transactional relationship was amazing made your anger so much worse.

after the marathon of fucking in her garage, beidou really took the time out of her day to care for you. despite, her legs being wobbly and her soul being drained. she cared for you, she ran you a bath and ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant, as a lover would do. it infuriated you to no end how she seemed so selfless in this relationship.

cuddling was nice. it’s been almost a week since the garage and your mind hasn't forgotten beidou’s pampering. always thinking about it, analyzing every detail of those memories. how she treated you like you were made of porcelain, how she kissed every mark she left on you, the way she held you, and how she whispered in your ear until you fell asleep. each thing she did made you angrier.

but why? most would love being treated like this by the bassist. girls love her, yet she chose you. it got you mad, like always.

sex was the one thing about her that didn't make you enraged. she was good at using her dick and you would gladly take it. it became common to have sex regularly, it was useful, it put your mind off your hatred for her and it felt good, double win. like now, the two of you swapping spit on her bed, both of your hands under clothing and caressing each other.

her compliments made you sick to your stomach, the way she cooed at your whimpers and chuckled when you bucked your hips, it was all so annoying. “you’re cute.” she whispered into your ear, pecking your cheek as you pumped your hand up and down her shaft. her pants were pulled down enough so her cock could be exposed, its shape was the only thing you liked about her, right? right.

the two of you lying down next to each other felt romantic, her arm around your shoulder felt protective, and her gaze on you was soft. even as you grope her cock with your hand, beidou shows nothing but love for you. it’s obvious she sees sex as something between two lovers, nothing like how you do. god, how insufferable this hopeless romantic is.

“am i?” you question teasingly. “of course you are.” ew. internally, that made you gag, but you didn't show it. instead, you slither down the bed to be at eye-level with her dick. your lips press themselves onto her tip, humming at the taste of her pre-cum. beidou groans at your kisses, your lips are soft against her skin, and it feels good. one of her large hands goes to the back of your head. part of you wants her to grab your scalp and fuck you like a common whore. but she doesn't.

she treads her fingers through your hair, looking down at you with a sort of gaze only seen in those vintage romance movies. you quietly sigh and wrap your lips around her tip, lowering your head further and further down her length, till your lips reach the base of it. even as you deepthroat, bob your head ferociously, and gag on it, she still treats you with kindness, with love.

“god, yes...” she sighs, smiling to herself. her other hand goes down to hold your own, embracing your fingers with her calloused ones. your lips and throat feel like heaven around her cock, it was warm and wet, and it felt a million times better because you were sucking her off, not some random groupie, you. your abdomen tensed up, the love that she felt toward you was like no other, and that made her orgasm hurl towards the end.

she lets out a guttural groan, arching her back as her tip began to pour out cum. you push your head all the way down to the base, eagerly swallowing all of her seed. there was a lot of it, her eyes were screwed shut as she grunted with each rope. after a few more seconds, it stopped, and she sighed out of relief. that stupidly handsome smile formed on her face again, and she chuckled some more.

“you were always so good at doing this.” she sighed, letting go of your head and hand, “but i think i want more.” her eyes had a glint of playfulness in them, she stared at you like you were her sun, her moon, and her stars, she treated you like you were a deity. she sits up, resting her back against the headboard of the bed.

you licked up a few stray drops before sitting up as well. a smile was on your lips, but you weren't happy to be with her. she made you warm, but it wasn't an in-love kind of warm, it was an angry one, you think. “oh, yeah?” you raise your eyebrows, “i think i can help you with that.” your hands get placed on your shoulders, gripping them so you could maneuver yourself to be right on top of her erection.

you impatiently sat down on her dick when your eyes met, she always has that stupid look in her eyes, and you wanted to rip her face off. the pleasure of impaling yourself took your mind off the anger, you let out a moan while she sighed again. her hands went to your waist as you began your riding. no words were spoken between you two. good, just how you like it.

your arms slithered around her waist as you rode her ferociously, skin slapping against skin loudly. your head was thrown back in pleasure, she was so big it made you forget everything in your life, all your worries. it was just the pleasure beidou’s cock made you feel. your train of thought was cut off by beidou’s lips wrapping around your nipple, gently sucking on the sensitive bud.

even as you rode her aggressively, she still kept her touch soft, like you would break if she went too hard. you huffed and went harder, the pleasure was doing a horrible job of masking the anger, so you got more desperate. your mind went to how she felt inside of you and how big she was, her tip ramming into your g-spot with each bounce. it felt good, being fucked like this, without needing to think.

your mind went blank, the pleasure took over again. the feeling of beidou’s cock took it all away, your riding her and sucking was driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. you wanted it. you needed it. and you were so close, it felt so good. your moans got higher and higher, your nails dug into her skin and your muscles were tensing up. oh, so close.

“you look so pretty right now.” that husky voice whispers, you widen your eyes when you hear it and you’re met with the sight of a woman, a woman pathetically in love with another. all of a sudden, that warm feeling was gone, despite your continued riding. your eyes met hers, her irises looked gentle, like a puppy’s or some innocent animal that knew nothing but to love. and it got you furious.

all of a sudden, that sweet euphoric high you were chasing disappeared. your bouncing stopped and the slick between your thighs now felt cold and uncomfortable. your stomach twisted in disgust at the harsh realization, your brain didn't want to accept it, you didn't want to accept that this brute who was nothing but muscle had your heart right in her rough palms.

you remember how her eyes would look for you through every crowd her band had performed to and lit up when she saw you. you remember how on the first valentine’s day after your relationship was official she went above and beyond for you in all things romantic. you remember all the times she protected you, how she kissed you, held you. you… loved it.

everyone around you saw you as no good. a burden. a gold digger, a narcissist, someone not to associate with. it was foreign to be treated so nicely and be shown love… care, and affection. beidou didn't mind your fits or insults, she would take all your attitude with a big smile on her face and a bouquet already ready in her hands. your mind is running rampant, and it makes all you're trying to hide and push down feel more real, more intense.

your eyes began to water. beidou deserved better, you knew this. she deserved more than some gold digger who only cared about herself, she deserved more than you. she needed someone who loved her and wasn't afraid to admit it. she deserved someone who could give you more than you ever could. no matter how hard you tried. with the way she looked at you, you had no choice but to process your feelings, and they hit you like a ton of bricks.

you felt horrible about yourself. what the hell are you doing? using this hopeless romantic for sex and money when all she does is love you unconditionally. beidou doesn't deserve someone as disgusting as you.

“babe… you okay?” she mutters, straightening her posture and loosening the grip she hand on your bare body. you hate her. you hate the way she has the nerve to treat you like this when all you’ve known is being pushed away. beidou noticed your discomfort, the way your arousal faded away, and began to pull out. any other asshole you fucked would keep going, but she didn't.

you look down and shake your head, “no…” you whisper, “no, i… can’t do this…” your mind is saying one thing, and your heart is saying another. you can’t accept it, out of all things, this is the one thing you cannot let happen in your life. you can’t be in love with beidou… you can’t, you just can't.

“woah… uh, it’s okay. we… we don't have to continue if you don’t wanna.” she tries her best to affirm, to give you solace. it does the opposite. her kindness was unfamiliar and it made you feel the need to put more walls up, more than the ton you already have. you huff, “just… stop..!” your mind was already everywhere, you didn't need beidou’s kindness to further infuriate you.

she opens her mouth to protest then decides against it. good. she blinked rapidly at you. you raised your voice at her, and that never happens. you clench your jaw and then start again, “what are you getting at, beidou? what’s your goal here?!” you hated her. you just wanted to punch her face mercilessly for the way she makes you feel.

“my… my goal? what do you mean?” your muscles were incredibly tense. she made you angry, “your goal in… this! what are you trying to do?! why are you being so nice!?” you push her a bit out of impulse. the two of you were still connected, her being inside you. but there were zero signs of arousal, just anger, and confusion between the two of you. “being so nice? you’re my girlfriend! why wouldn’t i treat you nicely?”

you stare at her with fury in your eyes, your heart racing sporadically, “some people are nice to each other ‘cause they like each other, not to use each other.” she says in a calmer tone, reassuring you with her hands gripping your shoulder. you can’t accept it. there’s no way, you truly thought that romance this pure was only in romance movies for losers with broken hearts.

your heart was accepting your love for her, it was warm, and it felt like something that came straight from fiction. but your brain didn't let it happen, being seen as weak, and showing love, wasn't normal for you. those tears you desperately tried to push down were climbing back up, and in an attempt to hide them, you look away.

“babe,” beidou whispers, “i love you, a lot.” her voice was soft, you found that disgusting. each attempt to push them down made them rise even quicker. your eyes quickly started to pour out single tears, little by little, beidou sighed and pulled you closer to her, head resting under her chin. “hun, it’s okay…” she murmured, combing her fingers through your hair. gentle, like how a lover should.

your mind was in turmoil, the warmth beidou gave you battling against the discomfort all of this gave you. this started as a way for money, but now it feels like it's so much more. you now craved beidou, you could easily leave, pretend she doesn't exist. but you can't, you need her. the two of you sat in silence for minutes, those were the calmest, yet most tense minutes of your life. the thoughts in your head were the only things you could fully process until the action of beidou pulling out ripped you away from your mind.

“what are you doing?” you sniffled, voice stuffy and uncharacteristically weak. “oh. i’m just assuming we won’t continue…” she says under her breath. however, her words fall on deaf ears. you lean up and stare back into her eyes. your hands cup her cheeks, eyes admiring the handsome face you loathed with all your life up until a few minutes ago.

“beidou.” you sighed. her eyes did something to you, and it wasn’t like when you were just a groupie, it was warm but not that kind of warm. you wanted to kiss her, hold her hand, go on dates with her, cuddle. you already did all those things together, but now, it didn't feel like a chore to do. you wanted to gossip about anything and talk the night away with her, you wanted her to buy you flowers and you do the same back.

“when we started dating, beidou… i thought you were obnoxious.” it felt like you were getting rid of tens of thousands of weights off your shoulders, and it was nerve-wracking saying it, but you just… couldn't suck it up anymore. if you did, you would never tell her how you felt. ever. “and i thought that i would never fall for you, that i’m just gonna use you for money and shit. but… but, you’re such a sweet person and i don’t know a lot about relationships but i know you deserve better than this…”

before she could protest, you spoke out again, “i’ve been… lying to myself and to you. you’ve made me feel things that I hated, and you’ve done it so selflessly.” your face was hot with shame and embarrassment, and your vision was blurry with tears. “i’ve just kept you around so i could spend money and get laid. but… i don't think i can just keep lying to you like this. i’m horrible for you… but i’m too selfish to let another girl have you.”

even amid this horrible confession, she still reaches up and wipes away those tears that fall. her hand was warm, and it was nice to have her show affection. “so… i’m sorry.” you cringe saying that, but it feels nice letting go of everything. “i’m sorry for lying to you, using you, and for treating you like shit. but… i love you, beidou.” dear god, if you just yesterday heard you say that you’d flip. but it’s true… you love her, even if you keep trying to gaslight yourself.

it was silent, you weren’t given any response from beidou so you were left alone with a hurricane of thoughts in your head. your embarrassment worsened by her silence. it would be great if she said something, or even gave you that cliche kiss after a confession. but, it was just silence. nothing. you nervously chewed on your lower, fiddling with the sheets on the mattress.

“cute.”

that’s all she had to say? cute? if you weren’t on the verge of a mental breakdown you would’ve slapped her so hard. but, you didn't. beidou notices the furrow in your brows and pinches your cheek, “it’s okay…” she chuckles, looking off to the side as she begins her side of the story. “y’know, i didn’t really care about the way you treated me, i thought it was kinda hot...” her eyes have an unfamiliar glint in them, and yours do too.

“so, i love you too.” she proudly smiles, her pride gleaming harshly, showcasing all of her feelings to you just from a gaze, her happiness made your brain short-circuit. apparently, what’s in those romance movies made for losers with broken hearts is true, because all you want to do is kiss her until both of you turn blue, and then some more. so that’s what you do.

your kiss was delicate, she held you and kissed you like you were made of porcelain, her rough hands keeping a possessive grip on your body. both of your lips slotted against one another, it was a perfect fit, like two puzzle pieces or like magnets. hopefully, this relationship would fit together like that as well. it’ll take time, but that time will come.

unfortunately, oxygen is needed to stay alive, so the two of you pull away. both of you look deep into each other’s irises, admiring the way one looks at the other. the stillness in the air was disrupted by you letting out a snicker, “what? what’s so funny?” beidou questions, “nothin’, just think you’re cute.” you make an excuse and cup her face in your palms, rubbing her cheekbones with your thumbs.

her eyes gaze down. oh, right. your breakdown was kind of a mood killer. “are we gonna… continue, or…?” she mutters. it takes a moment for you to decide, “how about we take a bath instead?” she hums in acknowledgment. the two of you were cold with sweat. gross, a bath would be very appropriate in a situation like this.

she huffs while standing up with you in her arms. the walk to the bathroom was filled with kisses, whispers, and small fits of laughter. it felt soft, and your attitude was nothing like what it usually was, totally unlike you. but, it felt comforting. beidou felt comforting. even in the cold bathroom, your core felt everlastingly hot because of the butterflies she gave you.

it’ll take a while for both of you to get the gist of a relationship, a healthy one at that. but learning and growing is part of the process, right? who would’ve guessed that this nimrod actually managed to steal your heart?

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #beidou x reader smut #beidou smut #beidou x reader #sub!reader

162 notes · View notes

bitterbutblue · 5 months ago

Text

jane doe toxic? <3

bam yang gang ☆ jane doe x fem!reader

~ As you were leaving, you said to me "You always want far too much If even for a moment, I look away from you It’s like my mind ignites into flames." I hold back the tears about to flow Struggling to suppress the words I longed to share With just a single "Yes, I’m sorry" I closed the chapter on the days we spent together - bibi, bam yang gang ~

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

She grips tightly at the door, bag in hand and your sobs by her side.

"Don't make this harder than it should be."

Her voice is cold enough for you to cease your sobs for just a second because how is she so cruel about all this? Was your love just a fucking joke to her? Was your pain just a simple toy she finds herself able to throw around for fun? Something she can toss aside when she's sick of it?

"Why?"

"You know I can't do this."

"Why the fuck not?"

"God- FUCK!"

Her sudden outburst had you flinching slightly. Her cheeks reddened from anger as her tail swishes, irritated, from this whole dispute. She had always appeared so loving and caring, always looking out for you and always putting you before herself so why this? Why now? Why now with the ring stored away in your bottom drawer in your bedside table does she suddenly want to pack and leave?

"You're too much. You're so much, all the fucking time."

"Oh bullshit!" You cry, throwing the nearest thing, which just so happened to be a box of tissues, at her. She just lets it hit her chest defeatedly, watching you pick up random items like couch cushions or plastic figures from the shelves and hurling it at her and she lets each item hit her. She lets you take our your frustrations on her until you've run out of items and you just sink into the ground. You let yourself melt into the ground, becoming like a statue frozen in time- a memory forever engrained into Jane's memory. You stay in that state, perhaps not physically, but for a long time after.

"I've never fucking asked you for anything, Jane." You say through gritted teeth, your anger now growing. It's like a starving beast, willing to take anything as a excuse to fuel itself. Eating up even crumbs or specks of words to fuel this hatred to block out the searing pain, to block out the way she carves your heart out. Not even methodically- just messily. She does it with a rusted dagger, blunt.

"You ask me all the time-"

"I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME."

Silence rings throughout the apartment again as Jane's eyes darken, yous see the way her throat bobbed as she takes a deep breath in. She looks away.

The fucking coward looks away.

"Well I can't give you that."

"Why the hell not?"

"You- you ask-"

"Don't you fucking say I ask too much of you." You're seething now "Tell me, when have I ever asked you to love me more? I love the way you love me, I never complain about you not loving me in love or not- not loving in the conventional way."

Jane is silent as she stares at you. You've stood up now, knees shaky and you feel like you'll fall over any second but you still stand. You still push yourself up to look at her in the eyes.

"Tell me, Jane."

She loves you.

She really does.

But she can't.

They'll find you.

"You always ask me for too much." Is all she says, before she turns. You scream at her, you want to throw yourself at her but you want to punch her at the same time. You yell curses at her, how you wished you had never given her the chance. How you just want her to love you, how you don't even ask for much and she's just being so selfish but she's gone. The door had already closed before you could even tell her a proper goodbye.

Is this the end of your story? This the chapter you close now, the story of you two coming to an end on a Friday night in your apartment with you sobbing on the kitchen floor for the rest of the knight as your favourite melody to share with her becomes a reminder of a cruel ending.

"As you were leaving you turned around and said to me "You always want far too much" No what I’ve always wanted was one thing Just one thing sweet chestnut red bean jelly"

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zzzero #zzz thoughts #zzz x reader #zzz jane doe #jane doe #jane doe x reader #zzz angst #jane doe please one chance please #jane doe zzz x reader

122 notes · View notes

aforeffective · 18 days ago

Text

my headcanons of the socs' families, as created by me at 12:30 am instead of sleeping

(remember that these are just my personal headcanons so even if you disagree with me, please be respectful) (also some characters have less than others, i apologize about that. i promise i love all of them)

this is long so its below the cut.

trigger warning for bad parenting ig? basically it is exactly the level you would expect in the outsiders. there is not graphic explanations of abuse but definitely insinuations

marcia meyrink-mariani

her parents are great and they love her very much and she is their pride and joy

BUT her parents both grew up in lower-income families

they both grew up to have successful careers so they were able to get from like lower-middle class to like upper middle class

and both of her parents are pressured by their own parents to work to keep the status of the family because they want to see marcia get what they could never provide their kids

so her parents and her grandparents all love her very much and have great intentions

but now they are unintentionally kinda neglectful just because they are ALWAYS at work, so that they are able to provide marcia with everything she could ever want

i do think she is very close to her parents when they are actually home though

and because of their pasts of growing up in lower-income families, they aren't as judgmental as the other west side families, hence why marcia isn't as against two-bit and the greasers as her friends are

they liked her relationship with trip but they are also very supportive when she breaks up with him and begins dating two-bit

last name headcanon: meyrink-mariani. meyrink is her mom's maiden name while mariani is her dad's last name.

beverly jitney-bush

her mom is absolutely a toxic pageant/ballet mom (yes bev does pageants and ballet) (or at least she did when she was younger)

her dad is always "gone at work" but both bev and her mom know that he's with his girlfriend (who is probably controversially younger than him. like not too badly to the point where its close to bev's age/being illegal. but definitely like 5-10 years younger than him)

like this is a well known fact. everyone knows that he's cheating but her mom never acknowledges it so everyone else just kinda ignores it

due to the ballet and pageant stuff, bev's mom is very controlling when it comes to her health and her body

bev tries to spend a lot of time at brill's house to escape her mom's control but her mom will find excuses to keep her at home

bev hates both of her parents and honestly just wishes her dad would run off with his girlfriend so that she'd at least only have to deal with one bad parent

cherry valance

okay so she's the only one that has canon family info in the musical so we're going to build off of that

her dad is an alcoholic and not great to cherry or her mom

high school "sweethearts" but not in the same way as brill's parents. brill's parents stayed together cause the love each other. cherry's parents stayed together cause her mom felt obligated

when i was coming up with it, my brain kept thinking of daisy from the great gatsby; how she married tom because she had lost hope of running into gatsby again and then the whole "beautiful little fool" thing and that is definitely how cherry's mom felt when she was pregnant with cherry

and i think because she knows cherry has grown up to not "be a fool", she pushes cherry towards bob in hopes that cherry won't get herself into trouble

due to this daisy comparison, i'm going to say that cherry's dad was probably her mom's second love but she never truly got over her first love

cherry def read the great gatsby and just felt so depressed by daisy because it is literally her mom

i'm going to say that cherry's mom doesn't work so she is home with cherry but she's never really bothering with her. she'd rather hire a nanny to deal with cherry as a kid, and then just lets cherry watch herself as she gets older

bob sheldon

his parents are so neglectful

they just do not have the time (or the want) to care about him

he could be sitting next to them at the dinner table being like "yeah i murdered 30 people and now cherry and i are gonna drop out and go on the run together and get hitched" and they'd be completely not listening like "oh wow, that's nice honey"

he acts out in hopes of getting his parents' attention (iirc randy says this in the book) but even then they literally just do not care

he'll come home to an empty house with a note on the counter that just says 'your problem is dealt with, be smarter next time'

they literally just do not care enough to lecture him or acknowledge him causing trouble

i hc that they also barely even acknowledged his post his death either and cherry had to pressure them to plan the funeral (and she had to do a lot of the work for them) (despite being literally a teenager) (and doing this while dealing with her own grief and also the fallout of all of her friendships)

paul holden

his parents literally only care about him when it comes to what he does for their reputation

as long as he gets good grades, does well on the football team, and can attend fancy business dinners with them and make the family look good, they do not care about anything else he does

they definitely taught him that as long as he does the above, they will throw money to make any problems he has go away

which definitely screwed with both his sense of right and wrong and also just how he views love in general

i view his parents as people who were in love before but don't really care for each other any more but refuse to get divorced (again, all they care about is their reputation to the other wealthy west side families)

so paul has a very toxic view on what love is

and they also taught him nothing about handling emotions

so he is soooo bad with his emotions

his parents definitely having screaming matches at each other a lot

he has definitely snuck out in the middle of the night and went and slept at one of the guys' house because his parents wouldn't stop screaming and he needed sleep

chet baker

chet's parents are not great

his dad is a cop (this is inspired by skyforcherry's chet headcanons because i just love the idea of one of the boys' fathers being on the police force and being one of the people investigating bob's death)

he has two older sisters but they have moved out and gotten married and begun their own families

chet's mom loves chet but when he was a kid, whenever she would do anything for him, chet's dad would yell at her for "spoiling" him and saying that it is emasculating that chet needs a woman's help doing everything (despite the fact that this is literally just a child wanting to spend time with his mom)

chet was also very close with his sisters as a kid, until his dad made him feel bad about it, saying he needed to stop acting like one of the girls

so yeah, his mom and his sisters could barely do anything for chet without his dad complaining that they were making him girly and "messing him up" (not for lack of wanting to. they do love him but their husband/dad can be scary when he's angry) (he's not outright physically abusive but definitely threatens that he would 'be able to get away with it' when he's angry)

so the only people in his house that he can really get attention from is his dogs, but even then his dad will find excuses about how depending on animals for companionship isn't manly

when he is home, chet's dad will be very nitpicky about everything he does. if chet does anything wrong or just in a way he doesn't like, there will be yelling

and he will poke and prod until chet finally reacts and yells back

and then chet's mom will begin crying because she just hates the yelling and fighting

and then chet will feel bad so he'll stop arguing back and just let his dad yell

and after a few minutes, his dad will stop and chet is just so tired of this because it is a cycle where his dad will do this and then apologize and be like "i didn't mean to get that mad, i didn't mean to set off your mother, let's both apologize to her"

and then they do this all over again a few days later (over such minor things)

because of this, chet has learned to avoid home unless he feels like being alone, in which case he'll lock himself in his room with his dogs and avoids interactions with his parents to avoid argument

terrence "trip" dipp

trip lives with his parents, his aunt, and his cousin (melvin)

his uncle passed away, leaving his aunt widowed with a young son so they moved in with trip's family (it was his dad's brother)

trip honestly doesn't interact with his parents much

they're fine. they work, they come home, they all eat together as a family, and then everyone splits off to do their own things

his dad can definitely be harsh, especially to his sister-in-law and he has definitely been caught complaining about having to deal with this "random kid" living in his house (aka his nephew)

trip is very close with his aunt

the reason she moved in is because she has some sort of chronic illness that causes her to get sick a lot, which was only made worse after her husband died

so she moved in to get help with her illness and melvin

it was trip's mother's idea and trip's father only agreed out of respect for his now deceased brother

trip acts annoyed by melvin but he has grown to care for him as a brother (but he would never admit it)

clark "brill" brillstein

okay imo his parents are the best of all the socs' parents

they were high school sweethearts that got married (and pregnant with brill) like within the summer after graduation

because of this, they're younger than the other parents. the others all are in thier 40s, having had their kids in their 20s but brill's parents are only like 36

they are THE parents of the group. if any of brill's friends need anything, whether it's just advice or someone to talk to, literally anything, they go to brill's parents. he has come home to every single one of his friends talking to his parents before. it is a common occurrence.

such a healthy family dynamic

yes they love brill's friends and want to act as their parents but they will never let brill feel sidelined to his friends because of their attention

63 notes · View notes

jaegerbby · 1 year ago

Text

➳ crude intentions

--͙[keigo takami x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 2280

╰┈➤ rundown; just about everyone loves hawks, except you.

╰┈➤ caution; scumbag! fratboy! hawks, noncon undertones, boob job (they are described as small), size kink, use of bitch, hair pulling, facial, toxic dynamic, mentions of sex with other girls.

hawks- keigo!

it is keigo to you.

who wants to fuck your titties but they are so little.

somehow, he has you stripped bare on his sheets despite not knowing if his door is locked.

it is nothing new to a group of frat boys!

they fuck on a daily, you heard about the countless girls that come to this house in particular. how did you let yourself become one of them?

truthfully, you never had a choice to begin with.

keigo is too big, he is a lot bigger than you and right now you can see it more than ever. he has to hold his weight off your abdomen to avoid crushing you. not that it is difficult when he is so strong.

you already had his mouth all over the flesh of your tits. he has sucked and licked and left the darkest marks. now his cock lays thick and heavy on your sternum.

at one point, you cried and cried but you learnt that crying does not fix anything. it does not stop anything. your head is tilted away, his cock is so long it brushes against your throat.

"you don't have much to work with." he laughs like it is some funny joke. he says it so casually as if he is not violating you for the nth time.

"some of the chicks i fucked." he whistles "their tits were huge, were practically swallowing my dick." you want to vomit.

you want to throw up all over him. you absolutely hate him, you despise him. while other girls thought about getting fucked in 107 positions by hawks, you thought of 107 ways to murder keigo.

the way you glare up at him does nothing to help your case. all he does is grin because it makes him harder. his eyes grow hooded, rough fingers tangling at the roots of your hair. his grip grows tighter and tighter.

you did not want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction but he binds the strands so tight you swear he would rip them out. you shriek, just what he was waiting for. his expression is all too pleased.

"don't get jealous, baby. no one could compare to you. you're my favourite." that means nothing. you do not want that, you do not want to be anything to him.

he gives your hair one firm tug before releasing it. the throbbing in your head has your face contorting in pain. his callous thumb swipes over your lips, applying pressure until you let him in. he does not stop there, no, he never does.

instead he is shoving the digit so deep in your mouth that you gag. it hits the back of your throat so aggressively tears prick your eyes. his eyes widen in a crazed way, taking your jaw into his hold.

"listen to me, stick your tongue out and push your tits together." his thighs strain on either side of you. his cock is red and aching where it bobs on your chest. it begs for attention. from the swollen mushroom tip to the vein throbbing along the underside.

you swallow hard, your arms coming up to push together the mounds on your chest but they are so little they only form a small valley for him. keigo breathes shakily, a curse leaving his mouth.

you expect some smart comment but he surprisingly says nothing. his free hand holds the thick base of his hefty erection and he squeezes hard, teeth gritting. pre cum drips from his slit onto your chest and it is hot compared to your skin.

"stick your fucking tongue out." his hand fists the pillow beside your head as he slightly hunches over you. you do not want to stick your tongue out, you do not want to taste him. he always wants with you, he does not know when to stop. he is already desecrating your body so why does he want more than that?

you hesitate, a sharp breath leaving you before your tongue slips out and your mouth is slightly open. you are terrified. your breasts do not offer much. you would not be surprised if he decides to shove his cock down your throat instead. you desperately hope he does not.

"good." he chokes on the sticky saliva pooling in his mouth "good bitch." good girl, he wanted to say good girl. you deserve better. someone a million times better than him but he will not let anyone else have you.

he presses his tip to your wet muscle, the salty tastes filling your mouth. you lay there, a million things on your mind as he shifts his hips to drag his cock between your barely there chest.

his bulky thighs flex and he borderline whimpers while humping his hips and dragging his cock along your sternum. he relishes in the softness of the flesh that is brushing the sides of his length.

you can only look up at him, with something close to disdain. there are a lot of willing girls with so much more to offer, why does keigo do this to you? his hand roughly caresses your cheek before resting beside your head.

he anchors himself and his thrusts pick up. he humps his aching erection, his leaky cock pulsing along you. he groans endlessly, his lips reddened from all the biting. "feel so fuckin good."

his head presses into your twitching tongue with every fuck of his hips and saliva leaks from your mouth because you do not dare to close it. the web of liquid only growing messier.

above you, keigo is gorgeous. that is incontestable. everyone knows it. his abs flex, relaxing and contracting as he has his way with you. pecs tight and full, his biceps are bulging.

and his face, he looks like an angel.

he looks like he is sculpted from marble and his mere existence is a blessing. too bad he knows it all too well.

in a different world, at a different time when keigo did not act or do the things he did, you would have been in love with him. it is too late for that in this life though.

"you're so fucking annoying." his voice breaks, movements growing more flurried and desperate until your body moves under the weight of his thrusts.

keigo finds you unbearable. unbearably kind, unbearably sweet, unbearably pretty.

you are unbearable because keigo wants you the most in the world and he cannot have you. it is his fault at the end of it.

"why does it have to be you?" he whines. why are you the only one who renders him into a love sick fool? why are you the only one he wants?

more cum leaks onto your tongue, leaving slick strands every time he pulls back. you wonder the same thing every single waking moment. why you? you wonder what awful thing you did in a past life to be here now.

keigo is breathless. you look good like this, you look stunning with syrupy liquid on your tongue as long as it is his.

your hair is all messy and you are glassy eyed but you do not cry. in fact, you have not cried in a while. keigo wants so badly to see it again.

you are so pretty. too pretty and too good and you're letting him fuck your little tits and he thinks every time he sees you, you are more gorgeous than the last. every position he has you in, makes him want you more.

you are like a drug. you are needed in his system permanently, he craves that euphoric feeling only you can provide. he needs you or he will withdraw and when he withdraws he feels like he will die.

he needs you in larger doses, he needs more and more from you.

and you, well you think of him as a parasite. one that has buried himself under your skin and drains every ounce of life from you.

keigo brushes your hair from your face, his head dragging along your tongue that is so warm and wet and feels so perfect. strands of his cum cover it, some leaking onto your chest as he shoves his cock along your tits.

he does not want anyone else the way he wants you. his balls mush against your abdomen, full and heavy and keigo cannot stop the way his moans are coated in desperation.

you are so little under him, his cock looks too big for you. it is too much for you but you always take him so well.

"you mess with my head. you're too fucking pretty. why do i only want to fuck you?" he rambles but it is not what he wants to say. it is insanely difficult to put together his words when he is around you. maybe that is why he fucked up this badly.

his large palm spans across your chest, over his cock that is incessantly throbbing. the veins along it pulse and the purplish head aches.

"i only want to be around you." his face contorts in pain at his own admission. he fucks his hips faster almost to distract him from what he finally managed to say. his heated cock strokes your skin.

the soft flesh of your chest and having you under him like this has his hips stuttering. his muscles tense, every single one defined as his entire body trembles and he grips the base of his cock.

he jerks himself quickly and roughly, thick strands of cum shoot onto your tongue before he aims his tip to spew it all over your face. he continues to stroke his cock while runny cum streams down your features.

you squeeze your eyes shut. you absolutely hate him. you release your breasts, breathing heavily as you try to gain some composure.

his body is still overtaken by the sensation of cumming. keigo pants above you, his pink lips parting. he will never get sick of seeing you with his cum all over your face. although he knows you do not like it.

he shakes his cock before shifting off of you. with his back facing you, you see bright red wings tattooed on his skin that definitely do not belong to an angel.

he reaches for his phone while you shakily breathe. he looks at it for a moment then drops it to the sheets. you have the urge to shove him away when he turns to you, his hand trailing between your legs.

"i got training soon but i have time to get you off." you meet his eyes, there is not an ounce of remorse in them. you push his hand away but the only reason it moves is because he did not expect it.

"don't touch me." you sit up, wiping cum from your face and disgusts coats your expression. you feel repulsive. you desperately need to be anywhere but near him.

keigo grips your arm before you can think of leaving. he leans in with furrowed brows and a clenched jaw. "what the fuck? i can touch you, i can touch you whenever i want to." his gaze is accusatory as if you were the wrong one.

"that's why my cum is all over your face. that's why i fuck you almost every day because i can touch you. don't fucking tell me not to." his hands cup your cheeks to pull your mouth to his. he wastes no time in shoving his tongue in and roughly moving his lips along yours.

almost like a reminder, almost like he needed to lay claim for his sake more than yours. he relents despite your lack of reciprocation and the tenseness in your body.

he pulls back with spit coating his lips. keigo gazes over your face, he gently brings your figure closer to him. "you know how i get when you talk like that so stop saying those things" he softly says although his words are covered in severity.

you feel encompassed by him. he is all you can smell and see. he leans in again to brush his lips over yours, fingers teasing your inner thigh. "come watch me train." his voice is deep.

"let me fuck you now and then you can show those girls who has me." he muses like having him was a blessing. like having him meant something.

you did not want him. you never wanted him. he has not seen you cry in so long but right now you think you just might break. he guides you right back into his sheets, pressing your legs to your chest as his stiffened cock prods your sodden cunt.

keigo gets to take and take from you without consequence. he gets to act like this is all okay. you have to let him fuck and cum and do what he wants with you.

then, he takes you to training with him, dressed in his clothes and smelling like him. he parades you around like a trophy to all the girls he already fucked.

you can still feel him on your skin and it makes you sick.

they keep talking and looking at you with so much anger, like you took something from them but you are the only one who is being taken apart.

they will not stop talking about hawks, hawks who is constantly flashing you smiles when he makes a goal. who comes over every time to kiss you and hold you like he means it.

like he has not done all the things that haunt you.

keigo makes you sick.

first fic :D

#🩷.bnha #hawks smut #pro hero hawks #bnha keigo #keigo smut #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo x reader #san.stories #tw.toxic relationship #tw.noncon #tw.dark content #📁.size kink #bnha smut #mha smut

581 notes · View notes

tevanbegins · 7 months ago

Text

Wanted to share a little something for my fellow Tevan stans currently fed up with the rising flood of BoB toxicity on 911 abc's socials.

We can all see that post the release of the Tommy x Henren scene, the BoBs have gone totally rabid. Until the Tevan pride post, we were still managing to dominate the comments section with our positivity. But now all hell has broken loose.

I mean, it's upsetting and annoying to see but not shocking. They whined so much about the nonsensical karaoke scene which they never got to see, but the show released the bonus scene with Tommy right before the new season's production begins (and the writing has started weeks ago.) It's such a huge slap on their faces and somewhere in the back of their minds they know B*ddie is never happening, but they pretend to be in denial and now their strategy is to make sure that we Tevan stans don't get to gush over our canon ship without having to counter their nastiness. All because their fanon ship dreams are dying a painful death.

Do the BoBs and the B*ddies outnumber Bucktommies? On social media at least they do, we have to admit this. But I still hope that the writers don't indulge this bullying and harassment just because that fandom is a loud majority on socials. Their controversial opinions and insensible demands cannot be a deciding factor for shaping future storylines. There are many people who appreciate Buck and Tommy's storyline and feel represented by it, despite the little screen-time they've gotten. We cherish all the tiny crumbs we get and make the most out of it without threatening and harassing anyone for what we don't get. We daydream and make our headcanons but we don't tell the writers how to do their jobs. And that's the reason why we were blessed with the deleted Tommy-Henren clip.

Ultimately, the showrunner is answerable to the network studio mainly for the show's viewership and ratings, not the hue and cry about whether certain fandoms are enjoying the current storylines or not. And with the way these BoBs are getting crazier with their delusions, they will never stop watching the show even 50 seasons later with their eternal hopes for B*ddie going canon, so I believe viewership is never going to be an issue for Tim and ABC.

So I am pretty positive that as long as Tim is personally keen on developing Buck and Tommy's love story (and the network is supportive), irrespective of the BoBs' frustration and their vile flood of hate for Tommy and Tevan, he will continue writing as his creative vision sees fit. We shouldn't lose faith just because the haters have stepped up their game and are going above and beyond to make us lose it. We just have to stop engaging with them completely. The block button is the greatest boon — it's so much more satisfying to do it than bickering with the haters. Just continue spreading your love for Tommy and Buck, even if we seem a minority. Little drops make an ocean after all.

Not to forget, the timing of the Tommy and Henren clip being released is so important. They could have shared it with us during Pride but they didn't. They did it now. Which means that Tommy is definitely an important part of the storylines for season 8 even if it's in a supporting capacity. ABC wouldn't have released the clip so close to the premiere date announcement if Tommy was not returning. Tim Minear wouldn't be telling fans how old Tommy is and other stuff if he had no plans to write more for that character. So we have to ignore all the mad theories, gross misinterpretations, and wicked hopes of the BoBs and trust that better things are coming! 🙏🏽

#tevan #kinley #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan ‘buck’ buckley #evan buckley #911 abc #buck x tommy #tommy x buck #tommybuck #evan x tommy #tim minear #henren

103 notes · View notes

sendhelpiloveyeonjun · 8 months ago

Text

i'll see you there tomorrow~

yeonjun x reader

technically i don't think i explicitly mention a gender or gendered terms sooo.

synopsis: yeonjun has jealousy issues because he's silly and can't help himself

warnings: gaslighting? manipulation? LOL i'm not even sure myself that's sad. yeonjun is toxic and mean but hehe. dick sucking, deep throating, he pushes her head down, cum eating?

watching him perform has always been my favorite thing. he always looks so happy up on stage even in practice most of the time and today is no different.

they just finished filming a choreography video for a song on their new album called I'll See You There Tomorrow and i swear his eyes shine a different kind of bright for this one. i don't know what it is about this song or dance but it's like he just can't help but smile while performing it.

it's so cute and something that really makes him stand out as an idol--he really loves his job. and people are always commenting on it, he always appears to be having the time of his life. he's so goofy and silly and people call him the youngest trapped in the eldest's body. i can see why when he's on stage or in their little to-do show. he's special and it's admirable.

i guess that's why it's so jarring when he snaps. i like to mess with him as anyone does, but they only get to see the small bits he can show on camera. sure we see him get mad at gyu but he's not going to do anything serious. so why does my cheek burn so bad?

"why do you think it's so funny to flirt with my friends in front of me?"

yeonjun grabbed my face and forced me to look up at him, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. "do you like embarrassing me? do you like making me feel like shit?"

i shook my head as best as i could and he glared, "use your words." "no i don't like embarrassing you." he pushed my head away and i tried my best to stay balanced, rubbing my legs together and staring at the ground. why do i like this so much? being the only one who sees this.

"you're so mean to me sometimes, y/n."

i looked at him and he sighed, shaking his head, "you really make me feel like you don't actually love me."

"i do love you, yeonjun."

he stood close to me, towering, and staring straight down into my eyes, "i don't know. i think you're going to have to prove it."

i chewed on my bottom lip and slowly sunk to my knees, watching a smile grow on his lips. "such a good girl."

i reached up to unbuckle his belt and tossed it to the floor before unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. our eyes stayed locked, neither one of us even blinking as i pulled him from his boxers. "go ahead", he nodded and rubbed my head gently, "show me how much you love me."

i wish the ache between my legs would stop. i wish he could just fuck me instead of torturing me like this. how is my mouth going to prove anything? how is me choking and crying going to mean i love you? just put it inside me already this is so stupid!

"y/n? some reason you're hesitating?"

i looked up at him and then down at his dick, gripping it with a sigh. whatever.

i licked the tip gently a few times, avoiding all the spots i know he likes best. if it's up to me, it's up to me. his fingers tangled in my hair gently as i wrapped my lips around the head, slowly sinking down to about halfway before bobbing my head at a steady pace. soft panting came from him, a grunt every so often as he tapped the back of my throat.

"you can do better than that, hm?"

i glared up at him and his eyes had darkened significantly. his hair was messy now like he had been messing with it and his bottom lip was red and puffy. god he's so hot. he pushed down on my head suddenly and i squeezed my eyes shut, choking a little as he slid down my throat. "fuck baby, that's it."

i clenched my thighs together and swallowed around him, digging my fingernails into his thighs as he held me there. his hips started moving and he fucked my mouth slowly at first but as his other hand found my head i lost all the control i had.

"god, your mouth is heavenly. you take me so well." i hummed around him, spit dripping down my chin, and he groaned, thrusting faster into my throat. i squeezed harder, looking up at him desperately to get some air but he was so lost in the feeling he wasn't paying any attention. should i bite him? that could be fun.

i smacked his leg hard and he pulled back finally, my lungs rapidly filling with air. as i went to berate him for trying to kill me, he yanked my head back in, stuffing his cock back down my throat. "i'm almost there, you can take it right?"

i whimpered in protest but he just laughed, continuing to use me as he pleased. the ache between my legs was becoming unbearable so i slid a hand down, barely reaching my goal before he smacked the back of my head. "don't touch." i whined and gagged, closing my eyes and bringing my hand back to his leg. fuck you, choi yeonjun.

his thrusts became quicker and shallower as his groans turned into higher pitched gasp-like whimpers. "swallow me, baby. swallow my cum like a good girl." i moaned softly and looked up to watch him throw his head back as he stilled, pulling my hand up to wrap around him. i quickly jerked him off, suck hard on the tip as he groans through clenched teeth and cums over my tongue.

you would think he's been holding it in for months at the sheer amount of it but finally he calms down, panting and looking down at me as i open my mouth and show him it's gone. he smiles fondly and cups my cheek, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip gently. "you're so pretty", i felt my cheeks heat up as i pressed my face into his palm, "thank you, baby."

"maybe don't try to kill me next time?" i glared, trying to clear my throat.

"no promises." he laughs and helps me to my feet, my knees really not wanting to hold their own. "let me make it up to you."

i have two fics up and they are both about sucking jjun off and i SWEAR the next thing i post will not have to do with yeonjun or his dick being in someones mouth.. i hope.. idk i really want to suck his dick i have a problem sue me.

ALSO i'm thinking about a part two where he returns the favor to apologize but that would make the reader gendered for sure so idk yet. also the gaslighting would be extra strong there which i love the idea of. idk no thoughts yet. we shall see!

#txt fanfic #yeonjun x reader #txt smut #yeonjun smut #yeonjun hard thoughts

68 notes · View notes

mental69er · 1 month ago

Text

Yandere Cate Dunlap

content: dubious consent, mind control, nsfw, yandere Cate, toxic Cate, deep throating, strap on sex, filming, fem reader, reader is made to cheat on partner

You'd known about Cate's powers. It wasn't like she exactly kept them a secret. You'd even seen her use them before, when she needed someone to do her a favor, or when she wanted free drinks on a night out.

But it had always been to the benefit of you and your friends. It had never been used against any of you. At least not that you'd known.

But it seemed Cate had reached a breaking point and it was all your fault.

"Did you know how frustrating it was, watching you be straight," she pouted and you found it cute at the same time something inside of you revolted at the idea of thinking that. A part of you that smaller and smaller each passing second.

"Kissing that boyfriend of yours," she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "When you could have spent your time kissing me." She stroked a naked hand down your cheek, tucking back a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're too cute for him. This, is a much better look for you."

You couldn't respond, slick slurping noises coming from your mouth as you bobbed your head back and forth on the strap she had tied around the front of her pants.

You were all too aware of what you were doing, equal parts horrified and turned on because of her command.

"I should have done this earlier," she said with a low groan, eyes lidded as she watched your lips forming a perfect circle on the plastic, only the faint taste of lube left on it. "Could have had you choking on my cock for me so many times." She bit her bottom lip, fisting her hand in the back of your hair, dragging you closer.

You gagged lightly on taking the plastic deeper but even then you couldn't stop, didn't want to stop.

"Fuck, I wish I could really feel you. It's not fair he does." She frowned. "I tried every trick in the book. What person doesn't want to experiment with others in college." She tsked, growing angrier. "No, you had to be unerringly loyal to him. You refused to even think about messing around with me. You made me do this. If you had just let me treat you right from the start-"

A loud choking noise made her pull you off the strap, gasping for air because she'd pushed you too hard on it. Her face contorted with frustration as she battled with something inside herself. "I'm not a bad person. I'm doing this because he's a bad boyfriend. He doesn't love you, he takes you for granted. It's why I want you to remember all this, so you know that I'm the one who cared about you this entire time. That I'm the one who you should be dating."

You wanted to argue this. That someone who cared wouldn't do this to someone else. You even wanted to use your powers but you couldn't.You felt yourself give a warm loving smile to her instead.

Love me, she had commanded and you did. You didn't know how long this would last, or if it would even go away.

She pulled you up to your feet, your knees groaning in protest from being down. She sat you on her lap, plastic toy digging into your naked stomach.

Her eyes raked over your body, taking in the curves, the swell of your chest, the soft skin. "I'm going to fuck you until you can only think of me," she promised.

You leaned in and brushed your mouth against hers, eager to taste her, eager to have her prove her words even as something in the back of your mind screamed at this.

She eagerly met your lips, grabbing the sides of your face hard, as if afraid you would disappear if she let go. Your mouths tilted to the side and she slipped her tongue into her mouth. Your eyes shut as you deepened the kiss and her breath hitched in the back of her throat.

She pulled away, breathless.

"I'm going to send him a video," she said as she pushed you to the ground. You fell onto your back and she stood up, holding up her plastic cock with one hand, digging out her phone from her pants with the other. She twirled her finger around and you got onto your hands and knees, presenting your soaked cunt to her. "It'll really send the message that you're mine."

He would think you cheated on him, when you never intended to. But you stayed there, smiling eagerly as Cate knelt behind you, the tip of her cock pressing against your slit. She pushed in without a second's hesitation, making sure you felt the spread of it inch by inch.

You groaned as she bottomed out into you, the toy just the right size to fill you up pleasantly. You could hear the sharp pitch of her breath behind you. You looked over your shoulder to find her face was flushed red, eyes glazed.

The phone in her hand was quickly abandoned when she realized she wasn't going to be able to focus enough to do anything about it now that she had you spreading yourself for her. Instead she grabbed your hips in her hands and began to slowly pull out, watching strands of slick drip out of you.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," she moaned, before thrusting back in, hips snapping up against yours, giving a little wriggle to really feel the inside of your cunt tug at her. Her pace was ragged, eyes watching rapturously the way your folds split for her intrusion. You couldn't help the way pleasurable whimpers burst from your mouth, hips canting back into her.

Your thighs began to shake and you had to press your forehead into the ground as you felt your orgasm approaching. You didn't want to come for her but you did want to.

"I'm close," you warned. "I'm so close."

"I want to see your face," she breathed out, using her strength to move you until you were sitting on her lap, facing her, all while the toy remained inside of you.

She ground up into you, hand slipped down to rub your clit. Your hips ground down hard and your eyes began to slip closed. A tight hand on your jaw forced you to open them.

"I want you to look at me when you come," she said, her blush streaking to her ears. It sounded like a plead, like she needed to see this from you. She looked insecure, needy, biting down on her bottom lip in worry as she waited for your reaction.

"Okay," you smiled softly, looking into her blue eyes. "I love you," you said and with one more pass of her hand over your clit you were coming, drenching her entire lap.

She surged up and kissed you hard, teeth clanking together, swallowing your 'I love you' down greedily as if she couldn't have enough.

You came down from your orgasm to find her kissing your face, your neck, anywhere she could find purchase in your skin and suck, excited little puffs of air leaving her. She was going to leave bruises everywhere. Your hips twitched at her touch and her lips kept going down until she latched onto one of your nipples. Looking up through long lashes, she began to suck gently on it, other hand kneading your breast.

You sighed into the touch, squirming into her lap as your arousel flared to life again, cunt tightening on the toy inside you. She took her time, twirling each nipple with her tongue, teasing you until you felt ready to explode, before slowly leaning back on her hands.

She seemed calmer now, having finally tasted you, and she picked up the discarded phone. She positioned it right where her toy was stuffed into your drenched cunt.

"I want you to fuck yourself on me," she said. "Do it nice and pretty. I want you to give your ex a show." She turned the video on and you wanted to scream in opposition to this idea. But you found yourself too turned on, too confused, to deny this request. After all, Cate was asking so nicely.

And you loved her. Not this boyfriend.

You lifted yourself up slowly, leaving only the tip in before sliding back down with a squelching noise. She smiled in cruel satisfaction as you rocked into her strap, chasing that high again.

"You're doing great," she praised you, giving an upward hip thrust that had you groaning and trying to find the ground to support yourself. Your hands landed on her shoulders. "Such a pretty doll. And you're all mine now baby."

"I'm all yours," you breathed out, a love struck expression on your face as you looked at her.

She finished filming the video, and clicked send on the video, before tossing the phone aside without another care. She dragged you by the neck into a deep kiss before continuing to thrust into you as she forced another orgasm from your body.

In the background your phone began to ring, but it became long forgotten about as you lost yourself in her arms.

#the boys #gen v #cate dunlap #cate dunlap x reader #fic #read the content warning

41 notes · View notes

roseharpermaxwell · 1 year ago

Text

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs - Part Two

I'm such a fan of an AU, and I love how many there are in FirstPrince. Any situation you can put Alex and Henry in, I'm here for it.

Here are many of my favorites so far, 10k+ words. Give the authors some love and let me know if you find something you adore!

And they call it— by @clottedcreamfudge. T, 10k. "You're late, but at least you're wearing a more interesting tie this time," The Dog Sitter says as he opens the door, leaning against the doorframe like he's a GQ model and not a law student slash dog whisperer. Henry's mouth feels incredibly dry.

"Mishap with my socks," he says, then immediately wants to throw himself into oncoming traffic. "I mean, I didn't have any trouble getting them on or anything — I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself."

"Good to know," The Dog Sitter says, looking amused and devastatingly attractive, as always. "David get ahold of them again? He looks at mine like I look at freshly-brewed coffee."

"Yes," Henry says, relieved. "Yes, exactly that."

Creative Differences by @sparklepocalypse. E, 10k. Zahra tilts her head at him, a contemplative expression on her face. “How attached are you to the notion of being a solo artist?”

(AU; Alex is a failed solo musician and Henry's band needs a lead singer.)

Dick, Dick, Dick (You Down) by @everwitch-magiks. E, 10k. It is a truth universally acknowledged that Henry Fox is an absolute dick.

Henry Fox is an A-list movie star, Alex is in charge of the craft services trailer on Henry’s new romcom, and Alex just might be the only person on the crew who has his doubts about the world’s unfavorable assumptions about Henry. Why would Henry be a dick just because he doesn’t stop to talk to his fans every time they crowd him? Henry Fox is probably like most people: not his best self every second of his goddamn life, but decent on the whole.

As filming gets underway, Alex learns both how right and how wrong he is. Henry Fox, much like Alex’s well-stocked buffet at crafty, is a goddamn snack — but he’s definitely not like most people.

(Alex doesn’t feel this specific way about most people.)

You Came Out of Nowhere (And You Cut through All the Noise) by @affectionatelyrs. E, 10k. Alex starts to feel worse about how he reacted to the man earlier — he’s usually all bark and no bite, but how is the bartender supposed to know that? Alex can be snarky, but he’s never cruel.

Allowing his lips to quirk up into a small smile, he replies “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you, really.”

“Well,” he says with a smirk, “in the event that you are lying to me simply to placate our earlier interaction, my shift ends in 15 minutes. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to stick around to chat with a perfect stranger?”

Alex’s brain stutters for a moment at his facade being so transparent that it's all he can do to stutter out a “Yeah—um, yeah. Okay, sure.” Maybe he also gets stuck on the words perfect stranger, and the immediate thought of mmmm, perfect indeed that pops up in his brain as a result. He chooses to ignore that as well.

Or, Alex is feeling insecure after a bad date - Henry shows him that he doesn't have to be

Controlled Experiment by clottedcreamfudge. E, 10k. Basically, what it boils down to is this; Alex is mostly sober when he says - to a group of people he barely knows - "Yeah, I might be a little queer, but who knows? I'd kinda like to experiment though, y'know?"

This statement, which is actually something he's thought about a lot, is met by general bobbing of heads, in the kind of bros-trying-to-be-chill way that usually happens when a bunch of straight guys are trying very hard to be non-toxic. That is to say, it's kind of awkward, but they get mad props for trying.

The only person who isn't nodding is Henry, Pez's best friend and the only known gay man in this circle of people. Alex has no clue about the others, but he knows Henry's gay because Pez once introduced him as, "the most handsome man in all of Christendom — and before you ask, no we've never shagged, which is a damn shame. Not for lack of trying on my part, of course, but Henry's one of those gays who thinks it's bad manners to get drunk and have an inadvisable fumble with your best friend for larks."

kiss my collarbone, found my archetype by uptownwarblerr5. E, 10k. English literature teacher Henry starts a new job, and immediately meets law teacher Alex (and in the process, becomes a little bit obsessed). Alex is a clueless bisexual disaster as per usual. Nora and Pez love their stupid friends. Zahra wants to go home.

Arts and Minds by @orchidscript. T, 11k. Henry felt like he was holding the shreds of his career and dignity all in one. The most profound interaction between Henry and the colleague he respected the most – had respected and looked up to since beginning his master’s degree – was now posted online, trending across Twitter, and was now up to 23 million views. Alex showing off and Henry standing there, mouth open like a fish. He wanted to throw up. He wished he had argued back, had said anything. Instead, he had all but swallowed his tongue and sunk back to his laptop, floundering for how to push forward.

23 million views.

Henry should be angry. He wasn’t.

He was going to die of embarrassment. Zahra would make sure of it.

Art history professors go viral, then go to a conference... and there was only one bed ;)

Fox Repairs (and Basic Construction) by floatingaway4. T, 11k. “Yes, so let me get your details and I’ll come over whenever it’s convenient for you,” says the voice. It’s dark and soft at the same time, kind of...velvety...and Alex curses his brain that can’t ask a simple question but can come up with a thousand adjectives for this guy’s voice.

“My details,” Alex repeats, while his brain is busy flipping through a list of similes that would get him fired if he ever put them into anything official. ‘Like honey...like molasses….like sunshine on a cloudy day…’ Nope, that’s a song lyric. He’d get charged with plagiarism for that one.

All Booked Up by @three-drink-amy. E, 11k. A book tearing up the Bestseller’s List is quickly shoved into Alex’s hands via June and Nora. Despite his resistance, he’s taken in by the book and its whirlwind romance. When Nora insists they all go to a reading with the mysterious author, Alex is drawn in by H. G. Fox, hanging on his every word. When they meet after the signing, it sets him on a path he’d thought was impossible.

Try Me On For Size by everwitch. E, 11k. "Yeah, I might be a little queer, but who knows? I'd kinda like to experiment though, y'know?"

Henry’s carefully orchestrated nonchalance melts away in an instant.

He’d been about to do what he always does at these shindigs when the topic of hypothetical queerness is brought up; come out. In this strange little pocket of humanity — this full-volume version of reality filled with red solo cups and many a youth exploring their sexuality — making his preferences known has always been Henry’s most successful first step on his path towards getting laid. And Henry does, truly, want to get laid tonight; he didn’t spend well over fifteen minutes on his hair for bloody Instagram clout. His discreet but unmistakable rainbow wristband isn’t meant to signify allyship.

The thing is, though, that Henry’s personal gay agenda for the night may just have taken an interesting turn; Alex wants to experiment.

In which Alex does experiment, and Henry is a most willing participant.

we've been here forever (here's the frozen proof) by @onward--upward. T, 12k. Objectively, I am aware that you – a stranger – cannot tell me my own sexuality any better than I can, however... Can you, please? Tell me? It’s 4am and I have been thinking about this for hours, and I can’t sleep.

Warmest regards,

ACD

It’s four in the morning, and Alex Claremont-Diaz has managed to follow a research spiral straight down into a personal crisis. It isn’t the first time.

Kinda think that I might be his type by @kiwiana-writes. E, 12k. “Bea.” He clambers onto his knees, grabbing her hands in his own. “Bea, take me to Thanksgiving with you.”

Bea blinks. Blinks again. “What?”

“Bea, I could terrorise your gran until she’s begging you to stay single forever.”

Or, Alex agrees to be his friend's fake boyfriend for a weekend. He is not prepared for his friend's brother.

Countermelody by @omgcmere. E, 12k. On an old tour bus, tucked into the corner of a bunk bed, there's a bit of wood that gets covered up when the particleboard shifts back and forth on the road. If you catch it just after the bus has gone over the right kind of bump, you can shine a light up and find a message etched there, with the tip of a key or maybe a Swiss Army knife.

Alex discovered it within his first week of the tour. He's never told anyone about it. It says:

RULE #1: DON'T FUCK YOUR BANDMATE

Luckily for him, as a solo artist, he doesn't really have to worry about it.

Alex is opening for Henry on tour and, uh, hates him. A lot.

Elevator buttons and morning air by dollarstoreannabethchase. E, 12k. Last night, Alex hooked up with the most attractive man to ever exist after getting stuck together in the elevator of his apartment complex. He's incredible, but the second day of the job that will make or break his career is not the time to be starting a relationship; even if he kind of wants to scream every time he thinks about Henry. So you can imagine his fucking surprise when he walks into the office the next day and sees none other than his Henry—elevator Henry, blue-eyed, British, dreamy, with thighs for days Henry—standing and talking to Pez. It’s in that moment that it all clicks, and Alex realizes. He’s Henry, as in, Henry, his other boss. Henry, his boss, a.k.a. the man who was on his knees in Alex’s bedroom last night. He is so fucked.

Or: Alex and Henry get stuck in an elevator together; Chaos ensues.

coyote ugly series by @smc-27. E, 12k. The bartender, in his mesh tank top, towel tucked into the back pocket of a pair of jeans, leans on the bar, eyes twinkling, and asks, “What can I get you, sweetheart?”

You Are the Wave I Could Never Tame by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 12k. That should be it. Henry is doing his job; the pool is getting cleaned, and Alex shouldn’t think anything more of it. Then why does he feel the slightest bit of disappointment when he walks back to the pool house and Henry isn’t there?

Or, the pool boy Henry AU that I couldn't stop thinking about until I wrote it.

Count The Stars And Constellations by everwitch. E, 14k. Alex and Henry meet at their first Partner Summit. After a single night of warm smiles and intriguing conversation, Henry is more than ready to follow his heart and enter a Match with Alex. But Alex is not.

Meet Your Match by allmylovesatonce. E, 14k. Alex had first learned about soulmarks when he was 10. June had just turned 13 and had woken up that morning with her soulmark. The two of them sat at the dinner table, in awe of the mark on her wrist. It was delicate and pretty. Three hearts intertwined like a triple infinity sign. Alex was almost envious. He wanted to know who his soulmate was so badly and he wouldn't get his mark for another 3 years.

Everybody needs good neighbours by @rmd-writes. E, 14k. To nora(9.37pm):

So a funny thing happened

My hot neighbour brought me the mcflurry i ordered and we fucked

From nora (9.38pm):

WHAT

DETAILS NOW

Which neighbour?

Wait, you only have one hot neighbour. Alex, did you fuck a guy?!?!?!

ALEX

Alex meets a hot new neighbour. Shenanigans ensue.

Captious (calculated to confuse, entrap or entangle in argument) by lucky (revolutionbarbie). M, 14k. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Alex hadn't intended to be 45-minutes late to his blind date, he really hadn't.

Thankfully Henry - broad-shouldered, blond, British and downright beautiful - didn't seem to mind.

written in the stars by @indomitable-love. G, 15k. Henry has always been entranced by the transformative power of stories; the way a happy ending can heal an ache better than any medicine.

He never set out to run a bookshop, but when he’d ended up with an obscenely large inheritance and an expanding cavity in his chest before he was even old enough to drink, there was only one thing that he wanted to do, only one way he wanted to fill the void: he wanted to be surrounded by the one place that had always felt like home – between the covers of a book. No matter the time period or genre, Henry has always found a home in books.

falling in love (in the cruelest way) by @coffeecatsme. M, 15k. “Alex?”

The name makes Alex stop halfway to the register and look back. Henry is standing in the same spot, shifting from foot to foot, before he juts his chin out. He meets Alex’s eyes.

“Where are you traveling to?”

Or, Alex picks up a stranger on a road trip, only to realize too late he's the missing Prince of Wales.

Financial and Other Instruments by clottedcreamfudge. E, 15k. “I’m Alex,” Alex says quietly, and something in Henry’s stomach jolts. “I’m a trainee financial adviser — I think you know my mom?”

***

Financial instruments are assets that can be traded, or they can also be seen as packages of capital that may be traded... These assets can be cash, a contractual right to deliver or receive cash or another type of financial instrument, or evidence of one's ownership of an entity.

Alex has owned Henry since the second he laid eyes on him, whether Alex knows it or not.

maybe take me into your room by smc_27. T, 15k. “This is kinda boring, ma.”

She pats him on the cheek, leans in a little closer, and says, “Find something to do, darlin’. You live here. You can’t leave.”

She’s not exactly right, but he isn’t going to argue. Plus, her main advisor, Zahra, comes over. Alex is already a little afraid of her, so he doesn’t feel the need to draw attention to himself by smarting off at the mouth.

She’s still talking to him when he spots this really beautiful guy about his age, and fuck, wow. Okay.

“Not him,” his mom says into his ear, and he doesn’t even… Look, if she knows about the few guys he made out with at parties in Madrid last year when the opportunity arose, this is the first he’s hearing of it. “His dad is the British ambassador. I can’t have you breaking hearts and causing an international incident.”

OR: Ellen Claremont is the US ambassador to Canada. Arthur Fox is the British Ambassador to Canada.

When The Time Is Right by everwitch. E, 16k. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.”

“Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.”

It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.”

Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

you'll be right where i left you by smc_27. M, 17k. He wakes up to a weird noise and - once he realizes he’s not dreaming it - starts trying to figure out where it’s coming from.

He takes a steadying breath and opens the closet door, and the scream he lets out is like, practically not human at all.

He did not fucking expect there to be a man in his closet. A man who is also yelling. Who’s tall, and hot, and wearing what seems like a wool suit, some kind of medal around his neck, and a sash.

OR, a time traveling Henry AU

Tell Me All Your Secrets by everwitch. E, 17k. When Henry dates Liam, he inadvertently learns about June’s brother Alex’s not-so-heterosexual tendencies of the past. But Alex has explicitly told Henry he’s straight. If Alex had the slightest interest in being with Henry, he'd definitely have set the record straight (ha) in regards to his sexuality. Except with pride month just around the corner and Alex making another trip to New York, Henry finds himself reexamining parts of their friendship. Perhaps there is more to their connection than he's ever dared hope for?

Or: the one where Alex and Henry go to New York Pride.

Fate Marks the Spot by @preppymayhem. T, 17k. Alex Claremont-Diaz wants absolutely nothing to do with Prince Henry of Wales and would be completely happy to never speak or be in the same room with him again.

Except for the tiny fact that Henry bears his mark.

A/K/A: What if Alex and Henry were soulmates, literally.

The Art of Falling in Love by floatingaway4. M, 17k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is a struggling actor, but his next role might be his big break. To research the role, his agent connects him with her friend at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The employee assigned to show him around annoys Alex before they even meet.

Will they ever learn to get along?

(Spoiler alert: Yes. Yes they will.)

Cursed is a State of Mind by @dustratcentral and @welcometololaland. E, 17k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is well aware that he’s an absolute catch. He’s intelligent and quick witted, has an ass that absolutely refuses to quit and was once voted ‘most attractive law student’ in a slightly irresponsible and probably unethical NYU student magazine poll.

Which is why he finds it super fucking weird that his new roommate, Henry, thinks his caffeine consumption habits are a bit off-putting. So what if he has some unconventional drink choices? It’s not like Alex can’t vehemently defend all of them.

5 times Henry has something to say about Alex’s coffee choices and 1 time he says nothing at all.

team henesmee series by @coffeecatsme. E, 18k. Henry isn’t home when Alex returns from his weeklong trip to his father’s lakehouse in Texas.

There is, however, a bat hanging from their fan, wings curled around its little body, a drop of drool clinging to his lips. Sleeping.

“Huh,” Alex says, tilting his head. “I didn’t know vampires could actually turn into bats.”

Or, 5 times Alex learns something new about Henry and 1 time Henry learns something new about Alex.

Luck of the Draw by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates). T, 19k. Henry isn’t an artist, but he runs an art studio. Alex isn’t in a bridal party, but he’s arranging a bachelorette.

Neither of them are looking for love, but when life gives you lemons, you throw them in the fruit bowl and find yourself the man of your dreams.

The Beginner's Guide to Floristry by clottedcreamfudge. E, 19k. As if there's anything romantic about it; as if it's not the most humiliating death Alex can imagine. This is why he doesn't do relationships. This is why he never will. The risk, as far as he fucking sees it, is too great.

Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible.

Route 11 by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates). E, 19k. Alex thought the New York City subway was a cursed public transport system. That was before he moved across the Atlantic and took the route 11 bus every day.

A public transport love story told in 11 parts.

My Songs Know Secrets You're Sick of Keeping by ma_lark_ey, paythe_piper. T, 19k. "How about this," Alex offered, "If I win AOTY, I announce Henry and I in my acceptance speech. If I don't, we do it your way."

OR: Alex is a world famous pop punk star, Henry is still the Prince of England, and the public is onto them.

A Practical Arrangement by @kiwiana-writes. E, 19k. “I know.” In fairness, he didn’t ask his mom to delay the wedding after the betrothal was made official when he turned eighteen. It wasn’t that she expected another option to materialise—he’s pretty sure she was trying to give him and Henry more time to get to know each other, maybe move past their open animosity a little. They’ve been pushed together every few months for the last three years, their marriage an inevitability. “I just… I still can’t quite get my head around it, you know? Married. To Henry.”

All the Old Showstoppers by @cha-melodius. E, 20k. “Dunno, kinda looks like you know what you’re doing. Are those macarons?” Alex asks incredulously after a little while, and a moment later Henry sees him start slowly approaching out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t know princes could bake.”

“I’d wager not many of them can,” Henry replies as he works, letting one corner of his mouth tug upward.

(In a universe where Alex didn’t go to the royal wedding, three years later Alex and Henry find themselves both competing on an episode of The Great Celebrity Bake Off. Will old hostilities lead to disaster, or is there something else causing all that tension in the tent?)

i told myself don't get attached (but in my mind i play it back) by coffeecatsme. E, 20k. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” the woman behind the counter says, eyes wide and apologetic. Alex grits his teeth so he doesn’t say something inappropriate in a lobby full of scared families, crying kids, and the obscenely tall British guy that’s currently giving him a fucking migraine. “Due to the snowstorm warning, all the flights are cancelled, and unfortunately the room you’ve booked is currently occupied.”

“Occupied,” Alex repeats dumbly, nails digging into his palm. “I booked this room three months ago.”

“Yes, well, the previous occupant—”

“Should’ve been out of here by now.” Alex knows he sounds harsh, he knows the stupid blond is hovering somewhere behind him listening to the whole conversation, but he can’t help it. He’s not spending what’s supposed to be his vacation alone with another guy in his room.

Or, Alex and Henry are stuck in the same room in a hotel during a sudden blizzard

For all the world to see by everwitch. E, 20k. Henry Fox — bestselling author, mystery millionaire and infamous recluse — never gives interviews. So when June is tasked with writing a profile on Henry, Alex agrees to help her. How? By posing as Henry’s next-door neighbor, charming his way into Henry’s life for the purpose of obtaining some real substance for June’s article. Eat the rich, right? What could possibly go wrong?

i wake with your memory over me (that's a real fucking legacy) by coffeecatsme. E, 21k. The ski instructor stops in front of him, takes off his goggles, and Henry about stops breathing for another reason. “Hey,” Alexander says with a grin, his face distinctly lacking in wrinkles Henry was expecting from a renowned instructor. There’s a bright grin on his face that rivals the sun, rich brown curls spilling out of a red beanie, and Henry realizes he’s absolutely fucked for a whole other reason than his inability to figure out how to stay upright in skis.

Or, the one in which Henry is hopeless at skiing despite his family's aspirations, and Mary hires Alex as an instructor to amend that.

we might just get away with it by smc_27. E, 21k. Henry is the most gorgeous man Alex has ever seen. And Alex has seen a lot of gorgeous men. He’s a fucking model.

“This is Henry Fox-Mountchristen,” Prada’s current PR lead says, and Alex smiles and pushes his hand out. “He’s a journalist covering the merger.”

Alex doesn’t know what merger or what it would have to do with Paris Fashion Week. But he does know that Henry holding a glass of champagne as he shakes Alex’s hand is maybe the sexiest thing ever, and there is just no explanation for that.

“Hi. I’m Alex.”

Henry says, “I know,” and then does this weird, forced smile at Bianca and walks away.

Alex doesn’t know how to like, not be completely obsessed with things he wants.

OR, Alex is a model. Henry is a journalist, and a bit of an asshole. Alex wants him anyway, even when it doesn’t feel good.

Fractured by clottedcreamfudge. E, 23k. Alex has been in the New York PPC for seven years, and it's seven years too long. He's not looking for his Half, because he isn't half a person. The Algorithm can kiss his sweet, Texan ass.

He doesn't need anyone - leggy, blond, or otherwise - trying to change that.

The Snow Prince by @orchidscript. M, 24k. Two little boys meet in a dream that isn't quite a dream.

Years later, two young men dance at a ball without touching.

A governor's son falls in love with an isolated prince who cannot be held.

A winter fairytale inspired by folktales, fairytales, and other stories. Alex and Henry meet twice, then fall in love a decades-old curse. When the threatened effects begin to come true, Alex endeavors to break it.

in summer air series by Standinginmoonlight. M, 25k. There’s something magnetic about Henry, though, and his feet feel like they’re rooted to the spot. He opens his mouth again and decides to just go with it. He’s on vacation, after all. Whatever fucking goes.

Or: the one Alex Claremont-Diaz flies halfway around the world to find himself and ends up finding Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor instead.

One Wild and Precious Life by @sprigsofviolets. T, 26k. In 2015, Arthur Fox was diagnosed with cancer. He went into surgery to have a tumor removed from his brain, and fell into a coma.

Nine years later, he wakes up.

Clue Me In by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 27k. Henry and Pez’s new shelter is opening in Brooklyn, and Henry is determined to spend the entire night avoiding Alex, while Alex is determined to do the exact opposite of that.

Cracked Heart by @absoluteaudacitywrites. E, 28k. Liam takes a deep breath in and out. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I’ve thought a lot about this and I don’t want to hurt you but it’s the right thing to do.” He pauses, taking another deep breath. “We need to break up.”

after hours by @dumbpeachjuice. M, 28k. “Spend the night with me. I’ll show you around the city, take you to all my favourite haunts. Give you a sample of what the real New York is like,” Alex explains, altogether far too casually to excuse the speed with which Henry’s heart has set off galloping. “Maybe you’ll even change your opinion that we Americans have no taste.”

Henry’s mouth feels sort of dry, so he swallows a large gulp of his new martini down and immediately chews through both olives to stall for time. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Alex shrugs. “It’ll be fun. I’m an excellent tour guide. I have references.”

The Byline by @rosetintednerdglasses. M, 28k. Press Secretary Alex Claremont-Diaz serves at the pleasure of the President, and he does it excellently until a new White House correspondent darkens his press room: Henry Fox, The Guardian.

Every Star That's Ever Fallen Knows the Way to Where We're Going by @dracowillhearaboutthis. G, 29k. When Henry’s family moved in next door when Alex was four years old, Alex was not a fan.

In Your Orbit by everwitch. E, 30k. Alex, a third year student at the pilot academy — and more importantly the son of the First Commander of the Unified Systems — finds himself kidnapped by a duo of interstellar smugglers, Henry and Pez. The two space fugitives soon turn out to have a plethora of problems; between a severe illness, a freighter that keeps falling apart, and a meteoroid storm raging outside, they're in quite a pinch. Alex reluctantly comes to their aid, if only to make sure they all get out of this alive.

The thing about Henry, though, is that despite everything, he doesn’t actually seem cruel. He seems the exact opposite of cruel.

muscle memory by stutteringpeach. E, 30k. It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen.

But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

Double, Double, Acting Trouble by @welcometololaland. E, 30k. Due to no fault of his own, Alex Claremont-Diaz winds up in a theatre class.

Due to every fault of Percy Okonjo, Henry Fox Mountchristen-Windsor finds himself roped into the very last thing he ever wanted to do - following in his father’s footsteps by being thrust onto the stage. OR

Confusion now hath made his masterpiece as Alex and Henry fall in love while performing the Tragedy of Macfish.

Be Worthy Love, and Love Will Come by @sparklepocalypse. E, 30k. "For Christmas this year, all I would like is a best friend who doesn’t mind too much that I’m a prince. Most of my classmates poke fun because of who I am, or treat me like I’m too special to be their friend. I want a best friend who knows me as much as my family does and still likes me. I know that you can’t wrap a best friend up in a box and put it under the tree, but you’re magic so you know the best way to bring one."

(Movieverse canon divergence; Prince Henry, age 8, writes to Father Christmas wishing for a best friend. A few weeks later, he finds one.)

it's you and me by smc_27. M, 31k. He can’t fucking wait to see everyone. To hug Bea. To have Catherine tell him he’s handsome and tap his nose with her index finger like she’s always done. For Arthur to make some inevitably fucking terrible joke about Alex bringing two duffels and a carryon. He also honestly can’t wait to see his mom and Arthur together.

Alex just really needs this summer. He needs time away, outside of Texas, with his family and the people outside his family who know him best.

or, an indulgent summer fic in which Arthur and Ellen are best friends and their families summer together in California

Nebuchad-never had a friend like me by clottedcreamfudge. E, 32k. When the dragons came, it was like nothing the world had ever seen before – and it hadn’t been anything like the movies either. There weren’t great, leathery wings beating up hurricanes and pinpricks growing larger on the horizon until sharp, white teeth became visible; there were no screaming citizens or calls to arms; nobody saw them coming, because they didn’t come the way Hollywood had expected them to.

The dragons had, instead, crawled out of the earth, just hatched and hiccupping smoke, barely old enough to support their own heads.

The world had fallen in love in an instant.

Waiting in the Wings by DracoWillHearAboutThis. M, 33k. Henry had always known he would end up in an arranged marriage.

He had not expected, though, to end up in an arranged marriage with Prince Alex Claremont-Diaz, who he'd secretly been in love with for the past fifteen years.

when i need to get home by smc_27. E, 35k. He drives the car he’s rented up the lane and half wonders if he’s just exhausted or if the place actually looks as bad as it does.

Oh. Oh god. Christ. What’s he gotten himself into?

He can’t help thinking if Jean knew her home had fallen this far, she would’ve been heartbroken. He’s not going to let her home sit like this. He’s going to fix it. For her, yeah, but for him, too.

or: Alex inherits an English country home, and Henry lives in the cottage next door.

Seven Years by @welcometololaland. E, 35k. Seven different places, seven different timelines, seven different meetings, seven different Decembers.

And still, Alex and Henry find each other in every universe.

Take me where I cannot stand by clottedcreamfudge. E, 36k. Henry blinks at him. “Galactapol?”

“Yeah, you know – the Intergalactic Peace Force?”

“Yes, I know them,” Henry says drily, “but you said—”

“We don't have a lot of respect for them around here,” Alex informs him succinctly. “If that's the kind of line you wanna take, then maybe—”

“No, no,” Henry says hurriedly, straightening up. “Galactapol. I like it. Catchy, even.”

“Read the contract or don't, Fox,” Alex says firmly, pressing his own hand to the line of studs between the engine room and the lower corridor. “I can find another engineer if I need to, but you'll never – and I mean never – find a ship like this again in your life. Jackie's one of a kind.”

Space, smuggling, and a ship called Applejack. Everything's shiny.

Before This, After That by @orchidscript. M, 37k. Henry Fox is lost. After suffering a serious injury from horseback, he struggles through the pain, depression, and frustration inherent with long term healing. Giving up is easier.

Discontent to leave him so unmotivated, the Fox siblings go in on a new solution: a private, personal physical therapist. Enter Alex Claremont-Diaz. He comes with glowing referrals, top of his class in all his degree programs, a sparkling personality and dug-in stubbornness to match. If anyone could light a fire in Henry again, it would be him. Right?

Most People Exist by SprigsofViolets. T, 40k. Henry Fox is a nurse at the New York Cancer Center. He’s happy with his job, content enough with his life, but it all gets turned on its head when he connects with a patient with a brain tumor—Alex Claremont-Diaz.

into the spotlight by indomitablelove. E, 40k. Alex Claremont-Diaz is a star on the rise.

A wildcard up-and-coming new actor who finds himself thrust into the Hollywood limelight when he’s nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Actor for his small-budget indie movie. It’s his more than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. That is, until he discovers that also in his category is his mortal enemy: Henry Fox – generically attractive, completely boring and part of an acting dynasty that stretches back generations. In short, everything Alex hates about Hollywood.

So when a comment Alex makes about Henry in an interview goes viral, and the two find themselves thrust together through awards season, Alex can’t help but think his dream has become his worst nightmare.

Except, maybe – just maybe – Henry isn’t quite what he seems.

Down For the Count by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates). E, 40k. Alex came to Las Vegas to count cards, not feelings. Henry came to win it all.

Is it possible to find something real in Sin City, where nearly everything isn’t as it seems?

Goodbye reality, hello Vegas (the blackjack/poker AU).

What's Up, Danger? series by @cultofsappho. E, 41k. “How thick do you think I am, exactly?”

Alex mumbles something under his breath that sounds like, “Got away with it this long, didn’t I?”

Henry’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “I’m sorry, are you bragging about lying to me?”

After a long pause, Alex says, “...No.” slowly.

“Hm. Thought not.”

In which Henry can’t recognise the sound of his own boyfriend’s voice, Alex isn’t as good of a liar as he thinks he is, and living with a superhero is both exactly, and not at all, what Henry thought it would be.

In Any Universe by SprigsofViolets. T, 54k. Boy Meets Boy.

Boys Become Friends.

Boys Fall in Love.

The Red White and Royal Blue Heartstopper AU that no one asked for.

Camp Llwynywermod by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 56k. The first night of camp with Henry is always weird. Weird in the sense that they haven’t seen each other in nearly eleven months, but Alex knows that Henry has been thinking about him in the months leading up to camp. Alex is guilty of it too; often the first thing he thinks of after applying to be a counselor is seeing Henry, Henry and his stupid blond hair and stupid English accent and stupidly gorgeous face, and thinking about just how he could outdo him in pranks this year.

Alternatively, the camp counselor AU that nobody asked for.

Fall Into You by lucy_in_the_sky. E, 56k. Alex is smart and witty and kind and clever and driven…but graceful, he is not. Several stints in the ER within one semester can confirm this unfortunate fact. The only good thing to come out of wracking up his out of pocket co-pay is the gorgeous nurse with beautiful eyes and a killer smile. Maybe breaking several bones is kinda worth it.

Basically: several times Alex was a clumsy wreck and Henry had to patch him up.

The Arrangement by cmere. E, 58k. “Gran sat me down the day I finished my A levels and made it abundantly clear I was not to let anyone know about any deviant desires I might be beginning to harbor that might reflect poorly upon the crown, and there were appropriate channels to maintain appearances if necessary.”

Shaan approaches Henry with a deal from the Queen: agree to an arranged marriage with a woman to flaunt in public, and he can enjoy the services of a male escort in private. Alex comes storming into Henry’s life with sparkling brown eyes, a mischievous smirk, and a challenge, and Henry struggles to maintain control of his emotions as boundaries begin to blur.

Alex doesn’t actually care about him; it’s just a job. Right?

Down By The Water, I Saw You by @myheartalivewrites. E, 63k. “Henry straightens up, head snapping over to look at the new arrivals. Then there’s the sound of a voice he’s not heard in ten years, a voice he never thought he’d hear again.

“Fuck, I can’t cook tonight. I think I’d rather starve.”

Henry stares, mouth dropped open. A head of curly brown hair turns slowly his way and his heart explodes.

“Henry?” Alex says, and Henry can’t bring himself to reply, so he just keeps staring. Alex looks at him for a few more seconds, eyes wide, blinking furiously, before swiftly turning on the spot and walking away from him and into the woods, but not before Henry can see the distraught look on his face.”

Henry and Alex first met and fell in love as teenagers, while on holiday in Jamaica. Ten years later, they run into each other again, and have to deal with the emotional fallout of how things ended last time. And fall in love again along the way, of course.

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) by @kiwiana-writes. E, 65k. Alex is a former child star struggling to make the transition into being seen as a serious actor. He jumps at an opportunity to perform on stage in the UK, seeing it as a way to break free from the typecasting and show what he can really do. But he wasn’t prepared to star alongside someone he hates.

Henry is a recent theatre graduate who accepts an amazing role in a queer reimagining of Much Ado About Nothing. And then it turns out his co-star is none other than the man he’s been hopelessly pining after for years—even though Henry made a terrible first impression when they met.

It’s… well, it’s practically Shakespearean.

You Know I Love a London Boy series by @three-drink-amy. E, 66k. When Alex has a break off of work, he decides to get away and spend that time in London. On his first day there, he meets Henry and sparks immediately fly between them. As they spend the summer together, touring the city and enjoying each other, Alex continues to keep a very big secret about himself: who he really is.

Nova, Baby by chamel. E, 66k. Agent Henry Fox-Mountchristen is an asshole.

Alex is 90% sure those exact words are going in this mission report. Yeah, they’re supposed to be objective when writing this shit up, but that isn’t his opinion. It’s a fact.

(CIA agent Alex Claremont-Diaz and MI6 agent Henry Fox-Mountchristen don’t exactly get along, but that doesn’t keep their respective agencies from insisting they work together as partners. Then a mission in Colombia changes everything, and their relationship begins to shift and grow into something that neither of them ever expected… and something that could have deadly consequences.)

Shatter Me by @historicallysam. M, 67k. Henry is resigned to the life he's meant to lead until he meets a man so full of happiness and life that he's got no choice but to confront the secret he's been keeping for years.

Deep Blue by myheartalive. E, 76k. “I picture myself in a small house by the sea, overlooking the water. Writing and reading all day and taking David on long walks and swimming everyday. Somewhere really quiet, where there’s not a lot of people. And where nobody thinks of me as Henry Mountchristen.”

Fed up of working under his grandmother, Henry quits his job in London, dropping everything for a writer’s life by the sea. He’s desperate to focus on his work and produce something worthy, but a mouthy American with a beautiful smile and a chin dimple has other plans.

But I love him, whether or no. by @leaves-of-laurelin. E, 77k. Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

I'm Taking A Ride With My Best Friend by @cultofsappho. M, 79k. When Zahra, the leader of the Fireflies, makes a deal with Alex to smuggle some guy outside of the D.C. Quarantine Zone’s walls, Alex immediately says no. He doesn’t move people, not anymore. Not since his ridiculous, and definitely past-tense, savior complex got him into hot water with June.

What could possibly be so special about some scrawny refugee? When he had his gun pointed at Henry, the expression on Zahra’s face was not one he’d ever seen on her before. She desperately needs him alive. For once, just this once, Zahra isn’t the savior today. It’s Henry.

“What’s so important about him?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. He’s just cargo, Alex.”

Alternate Universe - The Last of Us

Never a Guarantee by clottedcreamfudge. E, 87k. Henry – Prince Henry, third in line for the throne of Windsor and Alex's goddamn betrothed – has very soft hands. Alex knows this because he is literally holding them in his, both of them standing in front of just about everyone with a title in either of their two kingdoms, while a man in an extremely large hat has them repeat oaths and other things Alex has been learning by heart since he got engaged.

Looking back on their time at the altar, Alex should maybe have read a little more into the way Henry kissed him like it was the last time.

the poem you make of me by cmere. E, 91k. "Just, you know," Henry says. "If your mum weren't the president and you were just a normal bloke living a normal life, what things might be like? What you'd be doing instead?"

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

(our last summer) memories that remain by bleedingballroomfloor. E, 91k. Fresh out of law school and fresh out of a relationship, what Alex Claremont-Diaz needs most is a goddamn vacation. He plans to spend his summer on a small island off the coast of Wales, three months of peace and relaxation and figuring out what the hell he actually wants to do with his life. But all that is thrown out the window when he runs into his ex-fling, Henry Fox, who just so happens to be running the hotel he's staying in for the next three months.

Four years prior, Henry Fox meets the most beautiful boy he's ever seen at an NYU party: Alex Claremont-Diaz. Henry soon finds himself whisked away to Texas with Alex, a summer full of poetry and skinny dipping and stolen kisses, and everything is perfect. Almost too perfect for a summer fling. Yet Henry can't stop himself from falling in love with Alex, falling for the lake house and everything Alex loves, even when he knows it's too good to last.

Two summers, two places of falling in love, one filled with memories of the last. It leaves Alex and Henry wondering: is this summer truly going to be their last one together?

A Long Way From the Playground by allmylovesatonce. E, 96k. Henry and Alex were best friends growing up until they went to separate colleges and they grew apart. When they see each other again as adults, against the odds, both living in the same city again, will it be a joyful reunion or will the pain of the years apart get in the way? How do you become friends again when there is so much of the past in the way?

Peaches and Cream do Sexy Murder series by @dumbpeachjuice and @clottedcreamfudge. E, 103k. There are precisely three things Henry knows for absolute certain:

1. There is nothing that can’t be solved by a good cup of tea.

2. His dog, David, is probably the person who loves him most in the world, and that is because Henry is the provider of sausages.

3. His sister would do anything for him, including, but not limited to, murdering his wanker of an ex-boyfriend.

Or, Henry is a witch with a slew of dead ex-boyfriends, and Alex has a badge and a gun.

The Consequences (Of our Actions) series by @anchoredarchangel. E, 135k. "I sort of came out as bisexual to both Nora and myself when we were watching that fucking snoozefest of a Royal Wedding years ago, and I told her with no hesitation that you were on my list.”

Suddenly, Henry looks very present in this previously one-sided conversation, eyes boring into him even if he sounds a little choked as he clarifies, “I was on-”

“My No Consequences sex list,” Alex confirms brazenly, “Yeah."

Or: During an inadvisable spot of dating years back, Alex and Nora made a game out of making extensive lists of celebrities they could hook up with without it being cheating. One breakup and several years later, Alex meets someone on his list for the very first time at a charity gala and decides it's appropriate to tell him all about it.

I only tag an author once per post, but I'm still figuring out firstprince author handles. If you see one I may not know or find a broken link, please give me a heads up!

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs Part One

RWRB FirstPrince AU Recs Part Three

Master List of RWRB FirstPrince Recs

Master List of Recommendations

#firstprince #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #alex x henry #red white & royal blue

133 notes · View notes