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honeekyuu · 5 months ago

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stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

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tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you.

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse.

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough.

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying.

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling.

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

Fuck Tsukishima Kei .

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you.

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum.

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random.

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!”

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?”

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it.

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?”

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?”

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given.

Now he feels like he’s losing you.

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you.

That’s what this is about?

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much.

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -”

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down.

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh.

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ”

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning.

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest.

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him.

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard.

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit.

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?”

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly.

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.”

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe.

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message.

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?”

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further.

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath.

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu smut #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut

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summertimesadnessirl · 1 month ago

Note

This assumes that the goal of RAMCOA is to form alters in every programmed individual.

Not even close.

Even in programming with alters, most of the time the goal is not to achieve full alters because they're annoying to deal with.

The goal is usually just to create compartmentalization.

Sometimes amnesia is useful.

Many times the goal is just to get a compliant subject with cptsd who believes that their abusers behavior is normal and right and who will ignore their own pain and disregard their own intuition and act the way you want all the time.

That's why the most common introject is the abuser.

The goal is literally to have the subject obey the abuser at all times.

If the introject resembles the abuser too closely and becomes a full alter it's actually a liability because it helps the subject understand the motivations of the abuser and protect themselves more easily.

This is why "exorcism" was a common threat and story in programming.

This is why people are encouraged to think of their mental illness as another person or a set of traits that aren't part of their personality.

This is why traumatized people are encouraged to view their survival instincts that look for patterns similar to past abuse and avoid them as "baggage" or "bitterness" or a liability or even a sign that they secretly want to find new abusers because they're "comfortable" with abuse.

There are enough people who develop complex systems to do the type of work that requires it. Mild dissociation or mild compartmentalization is more useful, especially on a mass scale, and there are mass amnesia programs like encouraging people to believe that it's common to get "blackout drunk" and not remember things and be willing to lie about getting blackout drunk and then not be able to refute it when other people tell them that their memory is unclear due to drinking.

Even alters with complex systems are typically created with a utilitarian perspective from the point of view of the handler. They don't care much how the inner landscape works. They don't care too much about the names or sources of fictives. There are certain themes that regularly repeat in media over and over and certain triggers that people like to use over and over. If most people have a similar group of triggers that cause them to reliably behave according to the protocol set up by handlers it doesn't matter what it means to the individual victims so long as the leader or handler can easily get what they want from the target and understands what types of triggers to use to get what results. Efforts are made to standardize programming for each new generation of people with each type of "use" like giving them similar media to access, similar traumatic upbringing, etc. Some types of widely used programs, where subjects are selected at a young age and trained from a young age have specific naming conventions, like a lot of women who received programming to make them sexually agreeable in certain types of situations used to be named after cities, colors, and cars. "Stripper" names. I suspect that other names are given other weight like I always wonder about that meme that says "women who were emotionally traumatized by their ex who had a J name."

But as long as it's easy for people in the handler or user group to figure out how to get the reaction they want using the triggers, it doesn't matter about the rest of it. The goal is to have consistent triggers across a certain group of people. The wider the group of people, the more you would need to either teach that specific trigger young or constantly reinforce it in many different ways in many different types of situations.

TW: RAMCOA(???) Again(???)

Hello! It is I, one of the parts of the host that asked about RAMCOA/Programming!

They forgot to ask something else! (hence my reason of being here)

They were also wondering if RAMCOA means general cult abuse? They said something about other systems saying that they’re RAMCOA survivors who survived cults but aren’t programmed systems?

I’m so dearly sorry if this is phrased weird!

-A Piece

before i start: RAMCOA is a bad term to use from a sociocultural standpoint, period, end of sentence. it is being used to represent conspiracy theories rooted in antisemitism, as well as generally just a defense screen for bad-faith actors to interact with the system community in ways that are derogatory. the recent explosion of RAMCOA has brought a bunch of not-so-great/inaccurate information into CDD spaces under the guise of "my system works like this because i was programmed to have a system!"

which is not how that works. i've got a post in the works that debunks it in detail, but the RAMCOA programming that is so widespread and popular is not possible. most children do not react to trauma with dissociation—an even smaller percentage react with severe dissociative compartmentalization, which is what is required for a child to have the potential to form alters.

tl;dr: the scale required for even one intentionally programmed system to exist would need to be a cult scandal on a scale never seen before. it would need to be international, if not global. since so many survivors are public about their experiences, mainstream media would be covering it. it would be front page news. it's not, because it is not happening

to answer your question, though: yes, cult abuse could fall under the RAMCOA label if the person who experienced it wanted it to. it's important to note that nobody should be assigning this label to anyone, at all. but, more specifically, it would probably be under the ritual abuse/organized abuse parts of the acronym. the systems who are survivors of cults/organized abuse who are not claiming to be programmed into their system generally are just uninformed about the label's origins/community meaning.

RAMCOA as a term describes a mix of valid, real, traumatic experiences, combined with straight roleplaying. it is important to understand that using RAMCOA does not immediately mean someone is faking. the term is not a good one to use, but some people are using it (despite the Jewish members of the community's requests to Not Do That) to describe their real experiences.

tl;dr: programmed systems = not real. RAMCOA = bad label. cult abuse = real & could fall under RAMCOA's definition if someone chose to use the term.

sorry, i rambled. let me know if this is too dense, and i'll rephrase with clearer language. thanks for asking, anon—hope this helps clear up any confusion.

#also yes some of it is international #some of it is global #have you seen the consistent catholic church abuse scandals?#but it doesnt need to be that global #most of it is just #🫳#brave new world 1984 #you dont need that many cases of #like something like boys town or laurel canyon or the mickey mouse club or the skull and bones #although #you could write a lot about adderall #the purpose of a system is what it does #think about that #lundy bancroft #does a good job saying #abusers do abuse because it works #ramcoa #cult leaders #toxic workplace #etc #pimps #andrew tate #they do things the way they do because they dont care if they hurt the people involved #they only wish to acheive the desired result #so if the desired result is like #systemic racism #like you are racist and you do ramcoa #they used to do this thing where they would take black men who tried to run away during slavery and literally gangrape them #they called it buckbreaking #they would rape women divide families etc

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veren-cos · 7 months ago

Text

Bachelors distracting you!

Stardew Valley Bachelors x reader

You need to get work done but they want your attention, and one way or another, they will get it :3

Not proofread, and not very cohesive between characters. Tried to keep it Canon. May or may not have succeeded.

Sam

"No, babe, a new season just started I have to get going on my crops!"

• Would definitely pout and try and hold your hand to prevent you from leaving the house

• As you got out your money and some leftover seeds from last year, he would (not so sneakily) get out his guitar

• He would then start playing a brand new song for you

• Like. Has been saving it for something, and it wasn't quite done, but he just had to get you to stay!

• Then when you tried asking him about it, he would say "no, I'm sorry, I have to work on this song more!"

• Basically mocking you from earlier saying you had to work haha

• This would successfully get you for like an hour, it makes him happy.

Alex

You were bustling around town, and he wanted you to talk to him, even if just for a bit!

• As soon as he saw you enter town he started lifting weights.

• And the more he saw you enter and leave buildings he started using heavier ones, trying to get you to think he is soooooo impressive.

• Eventually when you come to his house BUT DONT TALK TO HIM (how dare you/j) he does that jock boy thing where he wipes his sweat with his shirt

• A cocky bastard (affectionate) who just wants to see you flustered and pause for a second to admire him.

• Yeah. That definitely distracts you as you leave.

(God he is such a dude bro (affectionate-))

Sebastian

You were busy doing work around the farm, and he wanted attention but didn't want to outwardly bother your day.

• Ngl he would either work on his motorcycle purely because he knows you think it's hot, or he would play his synthesizer.

• Depends on how confident he is feeling that day, but he knows both of those need to be done eventually anyways!

• He rarely practices his synth, and knows it fascinates you.

• It's just so cool he knows how to play it!!

• If he works on his motorcycle, you just watch because you are trying to figure out what he is doing

• You want to be able to actually know what he is talking about when he tells you about it later!

• Either way, he knows he grabbed your attention for a little bit, and that's enough for him

• Definitely would not be up in your face about it tho, he is very low key about like. Everything-

Harvey

• Wouldn't try to distract you from your farming or anything

• Knows how important your job is

• Would however distract you from menial activities like reading or watching TV if you haven't given him enough attention that day

• Would start cooking

• Like something he knows you really like, but also smells so it would get your attention

• Also plays music. Like some early 2000s girly pop music. He loves that stuff but doesn't play it often because he thinks it's embarrassing he likes it (it isn't I love that shit)

• But yeah that grabs your attention from whatever you were doing

Shane

• Starts bringing the chickens outside of the coup!

• Knows you think they are cute

• And he knows you think he is cute when he is taking care of the animals

• Plus it's also practical for him to do animal stuff so you can farm

• But yeah he doesn't really want a lot of attention, just wants to see you smile for a bit!

Elliott

He just wanted to see your face stick around for a little longer! Didn't want you to go, even when he knew you had work to do.

• Would play his piano!

• Works like a charm because he always has something new

• You wonder when he has the time to practice new pieces all the time

• You sit next to him for a bit, leaning on his shoulder

• After he finishes the song, he let's you go back to whatever you were doing.

• He got in enough time with you for now, but he would make sure to get all of your attention later

An* I had like no ideas for Harvey and Shane. Sorry if they are kinda clunky- This was mostly inspired by my ideas for Sam and Alex, but this was fun to write!! Also, these lowkey make no sense, and they weren't proofread, so just take the concepts loosely and run with it! :)

Rasmodius, aka The Wizard (by request)

I imagine that this would be when you stopped by to visit him but had to leave to go work. Like y'all weren't living together.

• Would use magic!

• A silent spell that makes little illusions around the room.

• He is a little shy, so like Sebastian or Harvey, he wouldn't outright say anything.

• But he makes everything so pretty you can't help but stare for a while.

• The lights danced near the ceiling, a mirage of all your favorite colors

• He gets your attention for a while, and it keeps him content until he sees you again :3

Masterlist

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risoria · 6 months ago

Text

so. have you seen the pictures from Rafah of the blackened, charred infants? the toddler with no head?

i would like to ask a favour of everyone seeing this post, from one human to another. don't think about the things you can't do - because as it seems, nothing is enough, and nobody can do enough - there is no use to be paralyzed by these thoughts. instead focus on the things you are already doing and the things you can do. i will start by compile a small list of personal suggestions, and please add to it from your own resources! this list is not numbered, i will just add things that i can think of off the top of my head and if it is of any help to at least one person, thats good. take care of yourself - that includes taking care of others, and this world we live in.

this is obvious but keep listening to Palestinian voices. i am mostly active on twitter so i will give some examples from there: Hind_Gaza, HossamShabat, BayanPalestine (press). MuhammadSmiry, does community work with Care for Gaza. m7mdkurd. Everyone is saying mostly the same thing - keep talking, keep protesting, keep boycotting. so do it.

keep talking. humans are social animals and it's as simple as this: the ongoing genocide is dire, urgent and catastrophic - i dont think i need to tell you that. but when people, a lot of people, share posts with each other and reiterate this fact the urgency will be felt stronger by everyone, and reach people who would otherwise maybe not see the reports of the genocide on their screens. if people instead choose to stop sharing and stop talking because it's "been so long" or it's "too difficult", the suffering will become normalized and the only thing people will see on their feeds are mundane things - food, pets, fandoms, and it will send the message that oh, it's not that important after all.... sometimes, you SHOULD feel disturbed and uncomfortable. these feelings are not evil - they will be channelled into actions to better a situation and better the world. silence is violence.

search for protests near your town, sometimes they're hard to find but once you find your local organizations for the Palestinian movement, follow them and you will usually find them! this all depends on where you live of course - but most often there will be fundraisers and events and mailing campaigns etc, and the more people joining the better. and, most importantly i would say, share these events and pictures (no faces of strangers, ofc! from protests on your facebook, twitter etc - because that way people close to you will see them and that it's completely rational and normal to attend protests, and if they've been on the fence maybe they will reach out and join you.

donate if you are able and share links to the different organizations - some examples are Care for Gaza, Sulala animal rescue, the Gazan Municipality Life for Gaza project (https://gaza-city.ensany.com/campaign/6737), the PCRF.

individual gofundmes - here is the google doc with a lot of campaigns, but im sure there are lots of them that arent yet added: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1-DDMFyn-ttboPXrz1bB3MFk7BlzCwfugh4259Wh7U1s/htmlview

donate e-sims, which will be sent by the Esims for Gaza team to people in Gaza, to help communicate with their families etc during blackouts. it's very quick and easy and on nomad you can get a referral code which gives someone else 25% off their first purchase, and there's also often different bonus codes. on the website there's tutorials for how to buy the different esims. https://gazaesims.com/

there's some different charity shops where you can buy Palestinian products and the proceeds help Palestinian artisans and people. here are some examples, please add more if you know any: https://handmadepalestine.com/ (based in Ramallah, Palestine), https://forpalestine.dk/ (based in Denmark), https://www.shoppalestine.org/ (based in the US)

boycott!! the BDS of course have their targeted brands (https://bdsmovement.net/) but there's also for example the witness website with lists of brands and the reasons for boycotting them (https://boycott.thewitness.news/) and some different apps that do the same thing, like the "no thanks" app. yes, the list of brands is very, very long. maybe all of it isn't feasible BUT i think a good start would be to go through them and decide which ones are unnecessary either way that you're better off without (mcdonalds, starbucks etc), and then which ones are part of your usual shopping routine, make a mental note of them and pick different options - see it as an opportunity to try new things, to support local brands and smaller businesses!

go do yourself a favour and give Palestinian-Canadian artist Nemahsis' new single "stick of gum" a listen, it's super good! <3 https://youtu.be/VsqYlmf3SAg?si=EK_TZjo0Ijny8hMT

please, add more tips and resources below or just share your own pictures or art or thoughts!

#palestine #gaza #resources #please add on with your own! <3 #i just wanted to compile these links in one place and also bc i want to make a similar one for my facebook friends...

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servicpop · 8 months ago

Note

AUGH THE COWBOY FIC WAS SO FUCKING CUTE FHSHJSBUSKFDSKUS I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!!!!! OUUUUUU

I ALREADY HAVE ANOTHER IDEA FOR THEM!!!! so the reader eventually has to get to the next town for a week or two for a series of shows, reader tells Cole where he’ll be and where he’ll preform so Cole can send him a letter if he’d like. Cole obviously send a him letters and reader writes back every time. But one day Cole doesn’t send reader a response and this makes him think Cole lost interest for some reason, so readers moping around and complaining about it to other show girls until Cole shows up at the place their preforming. Reader spots Cole in the crowd and gets excited immediately and the rest of the show he has a wide smile up until he can go out and talk to Cole who has flowers for the reader!!!

THIS CAN END FLUFFY OR SMUTTY OR BOTH IDC I JUST LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH YOU DONT GET IT IM CRAZY RAH :3

-🎱

✶ ﹑ㅤletters & flowersㅤ﹏

NOW STARRING : Cole the cowboy x 'showgirl' m!reader

「ㅤSFW & NSFWㅤ」ㅤhalf is sfw and half is nsfw (the nsfw part will be separated and labelled as nsfw!)

✙ NSFW warnings — sub!top cole, dom!bottom/power bottom reader, cole is a virgin, riding, tummy bulge, cole is more vocal than reader, first time

notes ,, go to part one if you haven't read it already! Not proofread !!

You were able to extend your stay at Pinecrest just for a little while, and during your time here you were able to meet so many people and learn so many things about agriculture, farming, taking care of animals, and you even got to meet the local dog, Scout. More importantly, you were able to spend more time with Cole. He took you out almost every night to go sightseeing, taking you to his favourite spots whether it was in the mountains or by the lake. He even taught you how to ride your own horse and named her Taffy after you; since you were so sweet.

Nothing could've replaced those star-filled nights where it was just you and Cole with your horses, Taffy and Spirit, enjoying the cool breeze and endless conversations that seemed to meander. However, you were a busy man, especially while being in the entertainment industry you didn't have time to stick around forever. You could feel your heart sink just a little bit when your manager had announced that another show would be held in the next town for a few weeks. Of course you enjoyed your line of work, you loved performing, loved being on stage and hearing the cheers of others, but you also loved Cole's company. You knew that Cole had a role here at Pinecrest and it would've been selfish of you to ask him to come with you. But, it wasn't like you were going to keep this whole ordeal a secret from him.

"Cole?" Your voice seemed to break the silence; his head turned to look at you, "Yeah?" Cole's voice was warm, and gentle with a hint of ruggedness like honey dripping over gravel, and the way his eyes glittered when they met yours was enough to make your legs weak under the eye contact, causing you to splutter when you decided to speak again. "I– I have to leave tomorrow, I got another show I need to do at the next town," You mumble, shying away from his entrancing gaze. The cogs in his rusty little brain were visibly turning as Cole stared at you blankly with his lips parted like he was trying to comprehend your words. You can tell it finally settled in his mind when his face deflated like a sad puppy, "You're leavin' sugar?" His voice wavers as he stared at you; the fingers that were once tracing the rim of his glass paused, and the bartender took this moment of Cole's sad expression as a cue to refill his cup with root beer.

Oh, you couldn't do this to him. It was almost like kicking an abandoned puppy on the side of the road — totally cruel. You proposed the idea of sending letters and his sad puppy expression lifted just a little. Fishing in your bag you pulled out a flyer of your next show, sliding it across the counter so he could keep a copy for himself, "Here, send them to this address," you tapped the words in bold that say where you were performing. Cole — of course — takes the flyer eagerly, scanning over it to mentally note down the information written on it, "I'll definitely be sendin' you letters honey," Cole smiled with his dimples peeking through. He picked up his glass of beer and placed it between his lips to take a swig before he started blabbering about whatever came to his mind, a common habit of Cole, and you were always keen to listen to his rambles. You could listen to his voice all night long.

Unfortunately, Cole's most dreaded day came when you had to leave for the next town. He most definitely was one of the first people to wake up at the crack of dawn to catch you before you left, pressing a light, lingering kiss on the back of your palm as if you were a prince and he was nothing but a humble knight. After the townspeople waved you off, you and your fellow performers left via the vans. It was approximately a four hour ride, it would've been quicker if you took the train but your manager insisted to go by car for the scenery. You felt yourself missing Cole more than ever, more than anyone else that you've met and being in multiple towns and countries, you've met alot of people.

Your show was held over four days with a one day break in between and a few free days to explore the area — a total of one week and 3 days. As promised, after settling down in the new town, you received letters every morning from Cole. They usually contained heartfelt messages about his day, his animals, what he ate for every meal, some local gossip, and of course expressing how much he missed you. He even signed every letter with small doodles of what you assumed to be him and Scout. Sometimes, he'd even attach small poloroids of himself usually with Taffy and Spirit in the back. Every night when you had time to spare you scavenged your hotel room for a spare piece of paper and a pen, writing back a response with your signature and some doodles that were definitely not as good as Cole's. It's corny, but you kissed the envelop after sealing it before sending it off back to him.

One day after your 2nd show, you stopped receiving letters, and it really messed up your mood. Did Cole lose interest? Had he found someone better than you? Was it because you were away? All these thoughts ran through your mind and you found yourself slumped at the vanity, complaining and whining to the other showgirls on how you felt like he didn't like you anymore. Knowing how supportive the girls are, they always attempted to comfort you, patting your back and reassuring you that he might’ve just not had any time to write back, that he was busy tending the cattle and whatnot. But no matter what they said, that feeling if a pit in your stomach lingered for the 3rd show. Your aura wasn't the same, your energy wasn't the same, you couldn't perform as well as you did the first two shows.

But suddenly, you felt a strange, familiar pair of eyes staring at you from the crowd. Mid dance, your eyes scanned the sea of people and caught on that dear smile that seemed to light up even the darkest of nights. Cole. That stupidly charming cowboy was nestled in between the bodies of others looking at you. Just you with those eyes filled with admiration. Your heart skipped a beat — or multiple — and you felt your lips involuntarily curl up into a smile.

"That's it. That's the smile I love."

With a new-found burst of energy, your limbs no longer felt sluggish and that fake smile was replaced with a genuine one. All of the sudden, the spotlight seemed to focus on you, highlighting the sequins that glittered on your costume and your bright smile. The other showgirls seemed to notice your change in mood and they all shot you small smiles, watching at how your hips swayed with the beat of the music and how your dance lightened up the atmosphere. You couldn't wait to see him.

Once the performance ended and you and the other performers bowed, you immediately ran out into the crowd, searching frantically for Cole but no matter how hard you looked and pushed through the people, you couldn't find Cole. Your feet picked up in speed as you ran outside, looking around to find Cole leaning against a streetlight with a bouquet in his hands. "Hey," You huffed, catching your breath from all that running around. "You were— amazing, sweetheart," Cole smiled, extending his arm out for you to take the bouquet of dasies, "U–uhm, the daises are hand picked if— if you were wonderin'." From the way he was stuttering over his words like a highschool boy confessing to his crush, and how his eyes focused on anything but your face, you could tell he's never given flowers to anyone in such a romantic way. They were beautiful, all thoughtfully placed together to make the bouquet aesthetically pleasing with a white ribbon tied around the stems with a small bow. You took the bouquet before wrapping your arms around Cole in a warm embrace. He didn't expect you to hug him so abruptly but he for sure did not complain, taking only a second to return the hug, wrapping his arms around you protectively. "I've never seen you smile so wide before darlin,' were you excited to see me?" Cole chuckled, keeping your face pressed against his cheek as he tangled his fingers through your hair. A small laugh escaped your lips too as you teased back, "Don't get ahead of yourself now."

After catching up a bit on the way back to your hotel, you found out through Cole that one of his cows gave birth to an adorable baby he named 'Choco' from its brown coloured fur. He really did have a quirk in naming animals. Once back, he helped you find a vase for your daisies, filling it up with water before carefully plopping your flowers in them. You flopped onto the bed, bouncing slightly from how plush the mattress was, and Cole followed shortly, laying right beside you. As you laid on the bed with your eyes staring up at the white ceiling, you felt a hand tangle with yours, turning your head to meet Cole's grin and his hands holding yours tightly. "Thanks for coming tonight," You were more than happy that he actually took the time out of his day to come all the way here to watch you perform again, "You know I'd do anythin' for you sugar," He cooed, squishing your cheeks between his fingers before he brought your face to his, giving you a small peck on the lips. You always loved how soft and gentle Cole's lips felt agaisnt yours, and they always had a faint taste of strawberries on them.

"That's too corny,"

"You want corn? We can go to the corn fields sometime if that's what you want"

And that earnt a pillow straight to his face.

One kiss turned into two, maybe three, with you leaning over Cole's body while he was still laying down. His arm snaked over to hook around your waist, pulling you closer to him and tangling his legs with yours. As he presses his body agaisnt yours, you felt him poke at your thigh. He was excited, something that you didn't expect from sweet little Cole. He seemed to notice and it was evident through the blush that creeped up his neck, "S–sorry... it's instinct y'know?" His words stumble over eachother and he brings a hand to his face, hiding behind the comfort of his palms as embarrassment ate away at him. It was adorable! This guy being such a flustered mess just from a few kisses and you haven't even done anything that intimate yet.

You reassure him, obviously; you tell him that it's natural and that it's okay to react this way. But then it strikes you. He seemed so inexperienced, so shy about everything. Was Cole a virgin? "I've never done anythin' like this before... I've never felt this way about someone else," His usually loud and confident voice was now reduced to a soft, nervous whisper. He shuffled slightly, pulling you up and onto his lap, his eyes glittered with nervousness and excitement, "D'you think you could show me a thing or two?" Damn. The way he's looking at you with pure love and sincerity made your blood pump faster from how quick your heart was beating. You've been dying for this too, so why not?

You helped him undress before following shortly after, discarding your clothes somewhere in the hotel. He was surprisingly big— like really big. His pretty pink tip was already glistening with pre-cum from the previous kisses and he had a prominent vein that ran down the underside of his cock that was bound to be a sensitive spot for him. Cole was also more built than you expected, he had toned muscles that were most defined in his arms and he had pretty big pecs. They were like pillows, you'd have to convince him to let you sleep on them later. Cole refused to look you in the eyes while you rummaged the beside drawers for lube. You put a generous amount on your palm before placing the bottle down and turning to face Cole, who was trembling like a little mouse.

"Relax," you cooed, wrapping your lubed up hand around his shaft, pumping slowly to coat him. His body physically jerked once he felt the cool substance around his cock, and a low whine slipped from his lips. Cole's breathing became more heavy as you slowly stroked his length, his eyes fluttered with every movement. Once you deemed that to be enough, you slowly moved to hover over his lap and Cole's hands immediately went up to grip your hips for stability. You knew this would hurt; you weren't properly prepared but you didn't care that much. Slowly, you sunk down on Cole's cock, feeling the slight burn as you bit back small whimpers. "You okay sugar? 'Mnot hurtin' you am I?" Cole grunted, his fingers gripping your hips even more, guiding you down his length. He was concerned, yes, but he also couldn't help from twitching inside you.

"I'm fine," you replied with a small huff once you were able to take Cole in fully, relaxing a bit so you could get used to his size. Cole on the other hand was certainly not relaxing. You could almost see the muscles on his arm tense and he had this unfamiliar look in his eyes like he was desperate for something, any sort of movement from you. After awhile of just silence and stillness, Cole's resolve finally caved in, "Oh, please sweetheart, please move. Anythin'! I need to feel you, please," he whined like a little puppy, staring into your eyes as if he was going to die if you didn't give him any sort of relief. But that wasn't any fun now was it?

You leaned down, your hips rolling slightly in accord to your movements, and pressed a honeyed kiss on the outer corner of Cole's lips. That little movement with your hips almost made Cole cum on the spot. "You can't do that t'me," Cole's eyes gleamed over with tears, dampening his eyelashes. All wet and pretty. He swore he'd actually start crying if you didn't move. "Alright, alright, sorry," you apologised but didn't really mean it — he was so adorable begging you just to move. But, you weren't that cruel. A string of 'thank you's poured out of Cole's mouth as you rocked your hips rhymically, grinding down on his cock. His head tilted back against the silk pillows, his brown hair cascading across the pillowcase like flowing water. Cole's lips were slightly parted, and his chest rose and fell intermittently, some breaths short and stuttered, while others were deeper.

"It feels so good," Cole muttered out between pants. His voice was nothing short of a whiny mess mixed with a few moans and grunts. You lifted yourself off of him, almost lifting completely off of him before dropping your hips back down, earning a muffled whimper from you and a loud moan from Cole. He was undoubtedly alot more vocal in expressing his pleasure. His eyes opened with heavy eyelids, as he looked up at you; you could practically see the hearts in his eyes. Cole's gaze flickered down to your tummy and his mind went blank when he saw the small bulge in your stomach, "Oh mercy," he breathed out, his hand moved to touch your stomach, "You're gonna be the death of me if you keep— hah, keep teasin' me like this."

Your mind was just as lost as Cole's with the way his dick was able to reach your prostate so easily. It drove you crazy; his cock angled perfectly to hit it over and over again with each bounce. Your own neglected cock was sliding along Cole's happy trail, the warmth of his body made you twitch everytime you grinded your hips. "I'm— im close, so so so close, please— please let me cum." Beads of sweat rolled down Cole's temples and his forearms flexed, digging his fingertips into your hips hard enough to leave an indent — he was careful not to use his nails, Cole would never want to hurt you. "Im—" Cole sat up from his laying position, enveloping you in his arms and buried his face in the crook of your neck, needing something to hold onto while he orgasmed. His moans were muffled by your neck as his thigh spasmed faintly while he spilt his seed inside of you, filling you up to the brim. Your own orgasm followed after his, coating his abs with your fluid.

You two sat in the comfort of eachothers arms and the sound of your heavy breathing; your own arms were lazily draped over his shoulders with one hand stroking his hair. "When's your next show?" Cole asked, moving his head off your shoulder to look at you, "The day after tomorrow, but I have rehearsal tomorrow morning," a small pout spreads across Cole's lips as his eyes flicker to loon at your thigh instead. "Do you think you can walk properly tomorrow?" "Oh right..."

Bonus ♡

You winced as you settled down into the chair infront of the vanity. A few of the showgirls walked up to you, noticing that something was off, "You okay honey bun? You seem to be in alot of pain today," one of the girls ask, placing a comforting hand on your back. "He obviously got some action last night with that cowboy guy." "No I did not!" "It's obvious in the way you're limping sweetie."

Cole on the other hand, was still soundly asleep in your hotel bed, curled up with the blanket he stole from you during the night.

a/n ,, Cole oh sweet Cole . To be honest ,, I'm still not used to writing smut . I guess it's because I'm trying my hardest not to make it sound off or weird ,, maybe I'm just immature . The word cock sounds funny to me . Anyways !! I kinda rushed the smut . To be fair my main focus with Cole is how he's an innocent n' sweet guy but ya know ,, nsfw is what gets people going these days

#bottom male reader #male reader #oc x male reader #male x reader #mlm #male x male #servicpop — fics/drabbles #servicpop — ocs #sub character #dom male reader #x bottom male reader #original character #smut #gay #gay fanfiction #oc fluff #oc smut

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gin-juice-tonic · 3 months ago

Text

Talking about a single bill book page under here

The thing about this page is, for something that was supposedly ripped out, it doesn't really contain anything that strikes me as needing.... to have been... ripped out.

Sure, he talks about being lonely here and maybe that could be embarrassing to him, but it's not like he hasn't talked about being an outcast before, his entire about page has a section dedicated to his trials and tribulations with his peers when he was younger.

Additionally, there's many times in the journal where he seems to have written something he feels he shouldn't have. Though ripping that thing out isnt usually his method of choice. He much prefers to scratch things out.

Why couldn't the page have existed like this? Or even, if the entire thing truly is too embarrassing to have in your journal, why did you write it there in the first place?

It seems to me that the only reason this page was included with the other Bill pages was to set up the narrative of Ford's loneliness. (That within Journal 3 proper isn't really needed, because one can already ascertain that...). Doyalist reason? Sure, Alex is trying to set up his story. Watsonian reason? Naturally you turn it around and see it as Bill trying to set up his own story.

This page's existence in general isn't the only beef I have with it though. While we're meant to accept it on the basis that he ripped this out, Ford engaging with personal feelings, especially negative ones like this in such a blatant way is... unusual. I'd say he's much more prone to distracting himself away from that sort of thing with his work.

For the journal especially, this page would have to take place pretty early, as it's supposed to be pre-Bill. Which is weird, considering a later page in the original J3...

Of course, like I said, we the audience can understand Ford is lonely. And I'm not trying to say he doesn't know it himself, but he does not engage with it.

The thing about this page though, is that it's much more than just a single spot where Ford's own loneliness is mentioned. It's a turning point for the way Ford writes. Prior to Fiddlefords arrival, Stanford takes a few pages to introduce himself, then everything following is either an anomaly page or the occasional muse page. Like I said before, it's all very work-focused.

After Fiddleford comes to town, Ford is forced to feel the full extent how lonely he's truly been, and he starts to write a lot of pages of his and Fiddleford's adventures together, including his feelings during. (insert everyones favorite lines here:)

But he also starts to write about something else...

Over

and over

again...

Fiddleford's renewed presence in his life really opened some mental-block floodgates in Ford's mind. From experience, sometimes you really aren't faced with how truly lonely you are until you are provided with some respite from it.

Again, I would like to say, it's not that I think he wasn't lonely before. He definitely was, and it's certainly part of why Bill was able to target him. But would he have written it out like that at that point in time? In the journal no less?

I dont really think so. I think he was doing everything in his power not to think or feel it.

And writing it down isn't really what I'd call conducive to that.

#bob investigations #this is more of an analysis than anything #book of bill spoilers #the book of bill spoilers #long post

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revasserium · 1 year ago

Note

to the lighthouse - Zoro and what guides him home

10. to the lighthouse

zoro; 2,320 words, opla!zoro, the fluffiest of fluff, straw hat!reader, established relationship

summary: you just wanted to buy some apples; now complete with a prequel right here

a/n: aggressively adorable, truly -- i have no excuse for this okay. i'm just so freakishly whipped for opla!zoro pls dont look at at me

zoro has never been great shakes at directions (navigation has always been more nami’s thing, and he knows his place in the world), but he’s never needed a compass to find his way home. once, he might have. once, he would’ve wandered and wondered forever and ever, believing the great unknowns of the world to be his compass rose, the horizon his true north, but not anymore. because you see, he’s grown since then — he’s gotten bigger, stronger, more ruthless, more deadly. but he’s gotten smarter too… if only just by a little bit.

he’s learned since then that home doesn’t have to be a place, that it can just as easily be a person.

or, in his case, that it could be both.

“warn me, the next time you plan on getting kidnapped for ransom, would’ya?”

there’s blood on his headband and blood on his shoes, but he can’t quite keep his voice as gruff as he’d like, even as he hauls you bodily onto the deck of the going merry, scowling as you kick your feet in a feeble attempt to get him to let you go.

“it’s not like i was trying to get kidnapped! i was getting apples from the market!”

“yeah, in broad daylight, in a giant port town where all our faces are plastered across wanted posters! even i could’ve told you that’s a bad idea.”

you yelp as he dumps you unceremoniously onto the kitchen’s large wooden table, mumbling to himself as he beings to rummage through the drawers for a first aide kit, slamming cupboards as he goes.

you fold your arms, unable to stop the grin from tugging at your lips.

“did you… just call yourself dumb?”

zoro whirls around, color blotching into his cheeks as he glares, “i — f — you know what i mean!”

he whips back around and slams a drawer so hard the handle breaks; he swears even as you start to laugh, wincing and clutching at your stomach, the skin of your side tender and growing more so by the minute.

“o-ow! don’t make me laugh! it hurts!”

“serves you right… stupid… parading around… not paying attention…”

he slams the first aid kit onto the table next to you, roughly swatting your hand out of the way as he gingerly lifts your shirt to inspect the damage.

“i’m fine —”

“you’re not fine, and quit squirming. i’m not chopper so if i fuck up, it’s your fault.”

you press your lips and hold still, hissing as he carefully dabs at a rather large gash between two of your ribs.

“and i wasn’t parading… i mean, my face isn’t on a wanted poster yet so…”

zoro spares you a single look before going back to his work, “yeah. yet.”

you deflate, inching forward slightly to make his job a bit easier as he continues to clean your wound, his touch now so much gentler than anyone might give him credit for. you watch him with soft eyes, trail the tracks of his fingers as he fumbles with the alcohol soaked cotton pad, daubing at the raw red of your skin. you wondered if anyone who hunted him from his picture on a wanted poster would recognize him now, his cheeks flushed, his brows lightly furrowed, his eyes sharp and steady as tried his best not to hurt you.

“there,” he says, his voice short and rough as he presses his palm over a strip of clean gauze, sealing it in place. he pulls back to admire his handiwork, looking as pleased as he might’ve been if he’d just decapitated an entire infantry’s worth of men without drawing a single sword.

you gingerly tug your shirt back down, your skin feeling much warmer at the places where he’d touched, his palm-print burning like a brand along the expanse of your ribs. you gulp and clear your throat.

“sorry… i — i didn’t mean to.”

“save it,” and then, when you wince at his tone, zoro sighs, scratching at the back of his neck as he leans up against the table next to you, “i know you didn’t. i was just…”

and it’s his turn to pause, to clear his throat and look away.

“sanji… sanji wanted apples for the curry he’s making tonight,” you say, kicking your feet, your eyes trained on the tips of your shoes as they swing up and down in succession — right, left, right, left, right —

“apples in curry? ew.”

“he said they’re the secret ingredient! and — apparently, the better the apples, the better the curry, and it’s — well, it’s fall so they’re in season right now, and nami said this island is known for their apple orchards so i thought — maybe if i went to the market on the first day i’d be able to snag the best ones —”

he cuts you off with a kiss, swallowing passed your surprised squeak before your eyes flutter shut, your lashes tickling his cheeks like moth wings. you can almost taste his satisfied smirk when your fingers curl into the front of his shirt to tug him closer.

“you’re rambling… you only do that when you’re nervous.”

you bite your lip but zoro presses his thumb to your chin, tilting your head up till he meets your eyes.

“why’re you nervous?”

“i — i’m not —”

“hm. you’ve always been a shit liar.”

you try to tug your head away from him but his grip is strong, his other hand casually resting below your waist, his fingers pressing into the soft of your hips, holding you in place.

“it’s… nothing…” but he’s right. you have always been a terrible liar, even worse to the people who know you. and god does zoro know you.

zoro’s grin goes wolfish as he cocks his head, eyeing you as a hunter might his prey, “pretty little liar though… i gotta say,” he drags his thumb along the bottom of your lip, pushing against the plush of your mouth, his eyes going dark as he watches the way your breath hitches.

“but even pretty little liars deserve to be punished, don’t they?” he leans in, breath hot by your ear, his words chasing shivers up and down your spine. you fight back a whimper, knowing that if he were truly to pin you there, there’d be nothing you could do to escape him.

“unless… you wanna tell me the truth?”

you let out a shuddering breath before sighing.

“w-we — we wanted to — to throw you a birthday party.”

zoro pauses, his darkened gaze going wide for a second before he pulls back, visibly confused.

“b…birthday? uh — that’s not till november —”

“i know but… who knows if we’ll be docked by then, and… your favorite season is autumn so…” you shrug, voice small even as you try to duck and hide the blush rushing up into your cheeks.

“so… you went to get apples… for my not-birthday birthday dinner?”

“i mean — your favorite food is rice and… curry goes the best with rice, right?”

zoro lets out a breathy laugh, his hand falling to press against your other hip. but before he can say anything else, sanji’s voice echoes in from just beyond the door before it swings open to reveal sanji, with his arms full of groceries and usopp close behind him, nearly running into sanji’s back as he comes to an abrupt stop at the sight before him.

“darling, did you manage to get those apples? y’know if we’re really gonna make this curry, it’ll have to stew for a good three or so hours — oh — my apologies… was i interrupting something? decide to give the lucky man an amuse bouche before his main course tonight, yeah?”

you groan and try to tug away but zoro merely quirks an eyebrow, seemingly unphased.

“why’re you putting apples into perfectly good curry?”

at this, sanji rolls his eyes and hoists the groceries on to the kitchen table next to you, casting zoro a scathing look.

“look man, i don’t question your sword-swinging and you don’t question my cooking, alright? now, if you’re really thirsting to know — the sweetness in the apples gives texture to the curry as it stews, and that’s what makes it so damn delicious when you pair it with the rice, got it?”

zoro scoffs, his hands still planted firmly on either side of your hips even as sanji starts to pull out all the varied ingredients for the meal. behind him, usopp is juggling an impressive number of liquor bottles as he tries to slot them into the drinks rack.

“yeah. we’ll see,” and with a single arm, zoro hoists you from the table and sets you down on the ground next to him, guiding you from the kitchens even as sanji shoots you a salacious wink.

“you’ll be singin’ to a different tune when you’ve had your first taste, moss-head!”

zoro doesn’t grace that with a response, steering you out of the kitchens before yelling for usopp to toss him a bottle of something good over his shoulder.

later that night, when the party is in full swing, he finds you by the carved white railings at the darkened head of the ship, eyes trained on the far horizon. behind you both, luffy is standing on a barrel, belting some old drinking song while nami laughs and sanji swings chopper in a strange, uncoordinated two-step.

“hey,” he says, bumping your shoulder with his.

“oh! hey…” you cast him a smile as he takes another swig from his nearly empty glass.

“why aren’t you —” he jerks his head back towards the swinging, dancing, laughing crew.

you bite back a smile, shrugging, “i was just… thinking.”

“oh. well, that’s not good.”

you slam your shoulder into his but he barely moves, chuckling.

“today… when you saved me from those kidnappers… how’dyou know where to find me?”

you turn to look at him, and for a second, the question almost catches him off guard. he stares at you, as if unsure himself how to answer before he grins, his eyes slipping from you out towards the darkness beyond as behind you both, sanji starts in on a showtune in a warbled language neither of you can understand.

“actually, ‘m not sure… i just… had a feeling.”

you blink, “you… had a feeling?”

“yeah like… y’know when uh — turtles and stuff always know how to get back to the beach where they were born?”

your eyebrows slowly migrate up your forehead this words as you stare at him, dumbstruck.

“zoro… you’ve gotten lost on a straight road before —”

“shut up! it’s not — it’s different though… i dunno how to explain it, but i just… i just knew. something — something wasn’t right and i knew i had to find you.”

and even in the relative darkness, you can see the color seeping into his cheeks. you let yourself laugh, glancing down at the half-finished drink in your own hands.

“i’ll… i’ll always find you.”

you look up at his words, his voice so much softer than you’re used to, the words so much more tender. you look up to find him watching you, his gaze soft and warm, sweet and molten.

“even if it takes me forever… i’ll… i’ll always find my way to you.”

and you wonder if it’s the alcohol, you wonder if it’s the darkness gifted by the moonless night, the prickling light of a hundred thousand stars winking above in the velvet sky.

you nod, raising your glass in quiet acceptance of his words, of this solemn vow that you know he’d never make without the intention of honoring it until time itself has breathed its last.

you clink your glass against his.

“happy birthday.”

zoro laughs, shaking his head, “can’t believe you’re making me celebrate two months early.”

“we can throw another party when its your actual birthday.”

“yeah — just promise me you won’t get kidnapped again.”

you laugh, shaking your head, “as long as you promise that if i do… you’ll be there to find me.”

zoro raises his glass to his lips, “i’ll drink to that.”

you toss your own drink back, feel the burn of it work it’s way down your throat, the fire settling in the pit of your stomach as zoro tugs you by the hand back to the heart of the party, where nami screams and throws her arms round you, pulling you into a suffocating hug and sanji nearly trips over trying to refill your glass.

zoro grins, laughing as luffy wobbles and nearly smashes into the main mast. he lets sanji refill his drink; he lets luffy pull him into a unwilling sea shanty, everyone swaying left and right with the uneven rhythm of the drowsy sea.

and he realizes, not for the first time, though it still sometimes comes as a surprise — that there’s no place he’d rather be. because you see, for zoro home is both a place and a person — the place is here with his crew around him, the ocean beneath them, the world sprawled out like a map at their feet.

and the person… he looks up across the raucous merry-making to catch your eye, to catch a breath of your bright, bell-like laughter — he’s never been more sure of anything else in his entire life that the person… is you.

opla!zoro requests r open LOL (literally idk if i will write anyone else but him at this point but EY if u got a req....)

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poppy-metal · 6 months ago

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fail marriage when ur hella ovulating and you’re lonely and you miss him and you’re only separated, he’s still your husband really, so you call art. you tell him,”we don’t need to work anything out today. we don’t even have to talk. i just want to feel you. i miss touching you. i’m lonely. hang up if you’re coming over.”

you hear the line go dead and ring in your ear. you smile softly. he’s still your art. he still answers your call within one ring. he still wants you without thinking. he still needs you without caring what it means or if it will hurt him. you feel bad, guilty, but you feel so good to have him. when he knocks on your door, that special rap, you’re already waiting and open it. he spills through it, sweeping you up in his arms, embracing you before he even thinks about anything sexual.

“i love you.”

he says it without meaning to.

“i love you.”

and it goes on like that. neither one of you can leave the others confession unsatisfied, unrequited. as you kissed with tongue and entire mouth, as you shed layer after layer of clothes and struggled around each other into the bedroom of your tiny apartment (normally, art was furious you lived here at all, furious you felt you should have to pay for yourself. he would pay for a bigger place, begged you to get somewhere in a safer part of town on his dime, but you wouldn’t hear it. quietly and graciously, you denied him more of you.) as you tugged and clawed and groaned and entered each other you chanted your mantra. i love you. all that shit that broke you up, none of it mattered tonight. none of it. you were his and he was yours and tonight, nothing would change that. i love you, the only true thing in the world, just for one night. and another night. and another and another and another.

u want me dead......

Its so evil of her too, it's like shes testing to see if it really is true that he wants her that badly - if he'll let her use him and hurt him by giving him her body but not her heart - art has always wanted to be a martyr for those he loves, always lets his love abuse him - and its sick you'd do that to him when you remember how he'd brought it up in therapy, back when you'd tried therapy together, how he felt like he was never good enough, but he was kind of addicted to that feeling - because its what kept him chasing for more, more, more, even if he suffered.

you'd never wanted to make your husband suffer. never in your whole time together had you wanted to inflict pain. but maybe thats where you went wrong with eachother. each of you unwilling to inflict pain on the other, unwilling to take risks, to dig your claws in, to demand things and hurt and be loud and messy and raw.

you want to hurt him now. you want to take his love and abuse it, put it to the test, push its limits to see how strong it really is - its why you walked away in the first place. nothing was gonna change between you without carnage. you'd both suffered too long in the silence of your quiet wanting for anything else to bring you back together.

you dont know how long you plan to drag it on for - how long you'll keep pushing and pushing him. until he breaks, maybe?

you're getting close to that point when you invite him over - allow him to touch you and pour confessions into your lips - but you keep your own lips tightly sealed. even if you echo it back everytime in your head, when he kisses down your body, between your legs and you almost say it, almost gasp it when his tongue rolls your hot clit in his mouth. the words are on the tip of your lips, ready to pitch over when he makes you cum around his fingers knuckle deep inside you - you're grateful when he licks into your mouth before they flow out - moan against him instead as you shatter apart in his arms, clenching and clenching around him.

"there, baby, there. cum for me - you're so beautiful, fuck - i missed this. i miss you, i love you -" and you kiss him this time, to shut him up.

your body wants his. it wants to take his cock inside her and wrap legs around him and never let him go - you want to kiss between his legs, suck him between your lips and worship him back with long pulls of your throat - you want to sink down on him, feel him stretch you out - you want him to take you roughly, push you back and yank your legs apart and growl and snarl at you for leaving him. fuck you with punishing snaps of his as he reminds you why you're meant for eachother.

but he gasps, "please. let me-"

and you come back to yourself. make yourself go cold instead of melting warm.

you push him away again, pretending the wounded fawn look he gives, he's always been such an open bleeding wound, doesn't affect you.

"you should go." you tell him instead.

you hear him inhale sharply. see suprise, and loss, and hurt and, most startilingly - anger, flash in his blue eyes. they darken. you swallow, your breath catching as you watch eachother.

he clenches his jaw. he obviously wants to push back. but he just looks away, and jerks his chin in a nod. dejected - "yeah, okay."

you deflate.

you dont look up when you hear the door close. empty fucking apartment. you'll probably cry yourself to sleep at night.

and tomorrow you'll be back to pushing. always pushing. something has to give, eventually.

#ask #frens <3 #mwahahahahahahahahaha #reader might be the most toxic of them all #failmarriage au #art donaldson x reader

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chaoticharrington · 7 months ago

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Chapter One: Professor Harrington and Mr. Munson

***THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND BLOCK. DM FOR ANY QUESTIONS THANKS!<3***

Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not much...YET.. lots of smutty smutt smutt to come. Vague mention of depression/ bad childhood/anxiety , mention of drug use/ cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being hot, Reader is in their mid 20s and Eddie and Steve are early to mid 40s

Summary: Reader moves to the one and only Hawkins, Indiana and meets her sexy new sociology professor and realizes she might have a crush on her best friends dad..oops

Authors Note: Hi folks!!! this is so nerve wracking i've never really properly written for either of these characters before except in my head and reading lots and lots of smut! I really hope you guys like it, i'm really excited for what's to come for this series, I haven't thought of a name for it yet so i'm just going to go chapter by chapter but its gonna be a fucking wild ride so buckle your seat belts :) 4k words (Also older Eddie pic by the lovely @eddiemunsons-missingnipple )

**Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five**

(banners and headers by @cafekitsune)

Were you doing the right thing? Could you do this on your own? What if you failed?

Your head filled with doubt now that your dreams you’ve had since you graduated high school were now coming to fruition. You saved up all the money you could, working odd jobs for a few years after high school to have enough money to get out of your hometown and into a good college states away.

You shake away all the negative thoughts, no. This had to work you were going to make sure it worked. This is your new start, to create your own life. It had to be better than back home, where no one gave a shit about you and your own parents didn’t care enough to stick around after you graduated high school, not that they were the most involved parents to begin with anyways. Even the friends you had back home were just party related or friends of friends, you were always on the outside looking in, never properly fitting anywhere. The only reason you decided to move specifically to Hawkins was because your only real friend, Violet, that you’ve had since you were 12 had moved here 10 years ago and you’d made a pact long ago that if you ever got out of that town, you’d follow her here.

You pinch your fingers to the bridge of your nose, willing the thought of your parents and back home to go back into the little dark corner of your brain. You can’t breakdown now, not right before your first class, how pathetic would that be?

“Focus focus focus, come on you got this.” you muttered quietly to yourself over and over until the anxiety subsided. You take a deep breath, willing your lungs to fill with air to cool down your buzzing insides. You look in your car mirror to make sure your makeup still looked good and fidgeted with your clothes.

You were never one to obsess over your appearance by any means, but you really wanted to make a good first impression. You had your hair pulled up into a butterfly clip and had on your favorite dress a pair of black tights and your trusty Dr. Martens. With one final look in the mirror, you sigh and grab your bookbag and get out of your car. You look on your phone to triple check that you were in the right place, the last thing you needed was to be lost or even worse late to your first class.

You’d only moved into your apartment off campus the day before so you haven’t had time to look around the town or get used to your surroundings yet. You noted that your car didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Your car was a few years old and was always something of an insecurity for you. But most of the cars that filled the almost completely full parking lot were older or used cars, which put you at ease. You head into the Humanities and Social Sciences building and check for a fourth time, Sociology 101 room E142 Professor Harrington.

The room is much bigger than you thought, chairs and desks circling the podium at the front of the room. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the room was only half full of other stressed out looking students preparing for their day ahead. You decide to pick a seat towards the middle of the room to not look too eager.

As you’re getting your laptop and books out of your bookbag you hear footsteps walking into the room and the girls behind you immediately start giggling and whispering to each other. You look to see where they’re looking hoping they aren’t making fun of you, you see them biting their lips and looking at the front of the class. You follow their eyeline and your breath hitches.

Where your sociology professor should be standing is an Adonis, he has thick honey brown hair, peppered with grey, that frame his handsome face. His skin impossibly sun kissed like he’d just come back from a tropical island and not living in Hawkins, Indiana. He smiles nervously at the class; his smile is warmer than the sun despite his nervousness, warming you from the inside out. He’s wearing a white button down covered by a navy blue sweater, a pair of grey slacks and black high top converse.

“Ahoy folks! Are you guys ready to set sail on this vast ocean called Sociology with me? I’ll be your Captain Professor Harrington!” he claps his hands, his eyes waiting and hoping for a response.

The girls behind you giggle and a few other students around the room follow suit, he sighs contently. He goes onto explaining the syllabus and assignments for this semester. The class flies by, he’s easy to listen and pay attention to, sure his looks help but he seems genuinely interested in what he’s teaching. Which is a breath of fresh air, you diligently take notes, making sure not to miss anything. Before you know it, class is over and people start packing up their things.

“Oh class before I forget, if any of you are commuters, come get a parking pass from me unless you want a ticket.” he announces to the class, most of the class you assume living in the dorms hurry out of the room.

“Because not only are we charging students tuition we are also charging students just to park on campus, capitalism at its finest folks,” he snorts, shakes his head, and walks to his desk leaning against it.

After finally putting all your things away and checking where your next class is you head up to him. Just being near him makes your heart beat a million miles a minute, like your unworthy of being in his presence let alone so close to him.

He smiles warmer and wider as you stand in front of him, “Hey what can I do ya for?” he asks brightly.

“Oh, uh, I just need a parking pass if that’s okay,” you say quietly.

“More than okay my dear!” he declared. You blush at his words while he picks around in his desk drawer for a parking pass. His nose scrunches up in frustration as the digging becomes hastier and more urgent.

“I coulda swore I put em in here… or did I leave them in my office?... shit,” he breathes.

You giggle at his disorganization, and he looks up at you embarrassed, you wondered how a man who looks like how he does could ever be embarrassed about anything. The girls who sit behind you would agree.

“I promise I’m not usually this discombobulated.. just uh first days always come sooner than I think.” he chuckles

You nod knowingly at him “No worries I can always get it tomorrow or something.” you say waving his worries off.

He looks up at you through his glasses relieved “Really? That- that would be amazing. I would go grab them from my office, but I don’t think I have enough time to before my next class.” He studies you for a second like he’s actually looking at you for the first time.

“What’s your name again hun?” he says casually, as he opens his computer and types on his keyboard.

Your heart flutters at the continued use of nicknames, you take a second to study him again before you respond. He’s hunched over his desk, typing and clicking away on his computer like he’s searching for something. His eyes crinkled at the edges with age, memories of many days smiling and being in the sun. You notice his freckles that adorn his face and neck that you couldn’t see during class. If you had it your way, you’d take your time to count them all to try and make sense of his godly beauty. And his hands.. his hands look so strong effortlessly gliding across his keyboard.

You must have taken too long to answer because he looks up at you expectantly and raises his eyebrow and smirks. You shake your head slightly trying to regain your composure.

“S-sorry first day jitters, my heads a bit scrambled,” you confess to him. You tell him your name quickly, you hoped that your cheeks didn’t look as red as they felt.

His eyes softened a bit and nodded and continued to type on his computer for a couple more seconds before turning to you again.

“I emailed campus security to let them know that it’s my fault you don’t have a pass and if they do give you a ticket just bring it to me and I’ll sort it out for you, okay?” he states and steps away from his computer to face you again.

“Oh wow thank you so much Mr. Harrington, I really appreciate it!” you chirp

His face scrunches up at the name, and chuckles, some of his honey brown hair falling in front of his face, his hand ready to catch them and put the strands back in place. You were mesmerized.

“Uh Mr. Harrington is my father, call me Steve er Professor Harrington works to if you don’t want to be on a first name basis.” He says kindly

“Oh well thank you regardless…Steve.” his name sounds foreign but good on your tongue. You stare at your shoes and then realize that you’ve been in here looking at your professor for far too long.

What the fuck were you thinking? He probably thinks you’re insane but is too nice to say so.

“Ya of course,” he dismisses you easily.

“Anyways I don’t wanna keep you, have a good day,” you apologize.

"You too Y/N,” he calls, as you head out the door, glad that your back is to him so he can’t see you blush again just because he said your first name.

“Get it the fuck together.” you mutter to yourself as you walk aimlessly out of his classroom.

The rest of the day goes without a hitch, you find yourself actually excited for the upcoming topics in your classes. You’ve never given yourself the opportunity to properly nerd out about the things you’re interested in.

You finally get back to your car after all your classes and groan at the sight of a ticket stuck onto your windshield.

“Fuck…” you whine

Too tired to get it taken care of today you drive home and plop on your bed. Even though your classes were super interesting, it was very mentally draining. Extra draining because you’ve tried to force your brain to focus on classes and not think about your sexy sociology professor.

Was he this nice to all his students? Did you catch him eyeing you up while you were talking or were your eyes playing tricks on you? You keep trying to reassure yourself he is just really nice. But his hands… his smile…

You groan and rub your hands against your face trying to shake all the whirling thoughts out of your head. You force yourself to think about literally anything else, then your tummy rumbles. You haven’t had time to grocery shop considering you had just moved in yesterday and your fridge was completely empty except for some bottles of water and condiments.

Your phone buzzes next to you on your bed, you open it and smile.

“BITCHHHH I MISS U COME OVER! You’ve been in Hawkins over 24 hours & ive gotten radio silence from u! ur presence is being requested in the munson household immediately!

P.S Bring food my dad is starving me over here”

“At your service m’lady, cheeseburgers good?” you respond quickly

“ur a life saver babe<3”

Your mind drifts away from your professor and the ticket that is burning a hole in your bookbag. This place already feels more like home than any time you’ve ever spent where you were born. You missed your best friend so much. Violet Munson has been your ride or die best friend for as long as you can remember. You two became friends when you were sitting alone in the lunch room one day and she came and sat right down next to you and you two have been inseparable ever since… that is until her dad decided to move her back to Hawkins to be closer to family after the divorce right before freshman year. You had been crushed getting your best friend ripped away from you like that, but then you guys made the pack to get out of dodge when you could, and now you’re here… in Hawkins,Indiana.

You change into comfy clothes and grab some cheeseburgers, fries, and onion rings from the only burger joint in town and headed over to the Munson residence. You’ve never actually been to her house before because your parents never allowed you to visit after she moved away, so you two mostly kept in contact over constant texts and lots of facetiming.

Pulling up to her house you were more nervous than you thought, you hadn’t seen her in so long and hoped things wouldn’t be awkward. You turned off the ignition, grabbed the food, and went to open your door when you heard a scream come from the front of the house. You lift your eyes to see your best friend jumping up and down on the front porch in her pajamas. Violet had long bright purple hair and thick black eyeliner, kind eyes, a wide smile, and an infectious laugh.

“YOU’RE HERE YOU’RE REALLY FUCKING HERE HOLY SHIT!”

You laughed and dropped all the food in the front seat of your car and ran to meet her in the middle of her lawn and tackled her to the ground. You hugged her tight, squeezing your eyes together wishing the tears at the corner of your eyes to go away.

“Vi I missed you so fucking much.” you whisper

“Awe babe I missed you too.” she shares

You both get up off the grass and you grab the food and head inside. You set the food down in front of the tv like you used to do when she lived closer to you. You sit down on the couch and while she grabs plates. You sigh deeper into the couch, everything was just picking up exactly where you two had left off, you were gonna be okay. You smile quietly to yourself and then head to the kitchen to help her bring everything into the living room. You decide to watch a new horror movie that just came out, the two of you always bonding over everything creepy and spooky. You let Violet tell you about her partner Quinn, who she met a few years ago and was head over heels in love with.

Then the front doorknob jingled, and you heard the familiar thud of heavy boots.

“Ho- holy shit is that Y/N?!”

You turn to face the familiar voice at the door. “Hey Mr. Munson, long time no see!” you breathe.

Fuckk… when did Vi’s dad get so... hot?... what the hell is wrong with you today? First your sociology professor and now your best friends DAD?!

He grins widely at you just like his daughter, he shrugs out of his boots and walks into the living room.

“I got you a cheeseburger on my way over, still like double meat and cheese on your burger?” you question.

Mr. Munson puts a hand over his heart and falls into the love seat next to the tv.

“You remembered, I’m touched sweetheart.” he beamed.

“oh yeah no problem at all!” you blush.

“Well I’ll let you guys catchup, don’t need me harshing the vibes, Vi’s been nonstop talking about you coming to Hawkins a month!” he chattered

Out of the corner of your eye you see Violet roll her eyes at her father.

“Dad no one fucking says “harshing the vibes” anymore or at all, you’re aging yourself old man,” she chortles

Mr. Munson chuckles and puts his hands up in the air in surrender “Alright alright I’m leaving, if you guys need anything I’ll be in the garage. Thanks again for the burger Y/N!” he says kindly holding up the burger in one of his large tattooed hands.

You beam up at him happy to help, and this time you get a good look at your best friends dad. He’s aged so much better than you could ever imagine a man with Mr. Munsons lifestyle to ever age, the expression aged like fine wine captures it perfectly.

His brown hair still wild and curly as its always been but tied up into a low bun at the base of his neck. Only difference is the now visible little grey streaks that run through random curls. He has more laugh lines at the side of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Still wearing his normal garb, black jeans with loads of rips, a band tee with a leather jacket. His chocolate brown eyes still full of mischief and debauchery. His nose ring ever present but you spy a few more additions to his tattoo collection, specifically a new neck tattoo and a few more on his hands.

Fuck his hands… wait you have to answer him. Answer him before it’s weird that you’ve been staring at him so long.. you’re really on a fucking roll today.

“It was my pleasure Mr. Munson really,” you gush.

He gives you a wink that goes straight to your core and vibrates in your bones and heads to the garage.

Violet didn’t seem to notice how flushed you were, eyes still on the screen, interjecting at random times when a scene looks to fake or when the blood splattering doesn’t look real enough.

After the movie the two of you head upstairs to Vi’s room, she wanted to show you her new additions to her every growing crystal collection and a few polaroid pictures of her and her partner.

“They literally make me feel like a princess I feel so lucky, for our 3 year anniversary they gave me these black tourmaline pentagram earrings, aren’t they so cute?!”

Your heart fills with warmth, Violet has always been loud and unique, you are so happy for her that she found someone who accepts her for who she is and loves her for it.

“That’s really sweet Vi, i'm so happy you have them, and that they treat you so well,” you grin.

“Thanks… what about you though? You’ve always been very singular… looking to change that any time soon? You deserve to be happy babe, even if it just means getting laid you deserve to get some. You’re a fucking catch dude” ,she compliments

“I mean you know I had a thing with Dylan for awhile before he got back with his girlfriend...” you murmur

“Oh COME ON, you know that’s not what I mean, not some assholes rebound!” she insists

“Vi I don’t have a line down the block like you used to have, you’ve got that whole hot sexy goth girl shit going on, I’m just me.” you babble and point to your gorgeous best friend

“What about Tom? You were with Tom for a long time what happened with him?” she asks obliviously.

“Fuckin cheated on me,” you sigh. Re-living your lack of romantic endeavors to your very not single best friend being up there in the top 10 most pathetic things to date.

“Oh fuck that guy, how fucking dare he!” she sneers while she tries to light the perfectly wrapped blunt in her hand.

“Shit I think my lighters dead, can you go ask my dad if he has an extra?”

You nod and head downstairs and search for the door that leads to the garage, finally you find the door you’re looking for and the image in front of you almost makes you audibly gasp.

Mr. Munson has a cigarette between his lips hes strumming along to some metal song that he’s humming the tune to, occasionally sucking in smoke and blowing out the side of his mouth. His head bobbing to the tune of the song completely in his own world. He’s beautiful.

You look at the way his fingers move to the beat and strum the strings on his guitar, mesmerized by how pretty they are. You can see all the calloses on his hands from all of the years of playing.

Your hand moves without thinking and knocks on the side of the garage door, getting Mr. Munsons attention.

“Oh shit, hey honey, ya need something?" He questions

“oh yeah sorry, Vi’s lighter ran out, and we were trying to light a blunt, you got an extra?” You ask.

Growing up, Mr. Munson had always been the more laid back between Violets two parents, letting her test the waters herself allowing more than the normal parent would. But as long as she was being safe and not doing any hard drugs he was mostly lenient with her. Not that it mattered much now that she’s grown.

“Uh yeah I probably got one around here somewhere, come pop a squat while I look.” he gestures to the chair beside him.

Your legs wobble while you move into the garage, it smelled so uniquely of him. His leather jacket draped over the back of his chair, smoke in the air, and metal music playing lowly in the background.

His space made you feel at home, the garage door was open so you could see the sun setting in the sky, and the metal music is weirdly comforting. You find yourself tapping your feet to the beat.

Eddie went to his truck looking for an extra lighter and your eyes wander to his guitar. You can tell he really cares about it, its clean, the strings look freshly changed, and recently polished.

“Oh yeah she’s a beaut isn’t she?" He observes proudly, leaning against his car with a new found lighter in hand.

“Yeah really pretty Mr. Munson,” you remark.

He smiles at you, “Here ya go, I don’t know how much juice is left in it.” He hands you the lighter, for the few seconds your hands connect you see how much bigger his hands are than yours, it almost makes you topple over in your chair.

“Thanks,” you reply. You grab the lighter with your hand and put it in your pocket and push out of the chair headed back into the house.

“Were you always this shy?” he asks inquisitively.

You turn around to face him confused by his question, you never really considered yourself shy, it just takes some time for you to come out of your shell.

“Shy?” you reply. fidgeting with a loose string on your sweatpants, your lips in a fine line.

“Yeah..you just seem.. shy or sad maybe, you doin okay?” he presses

You sigh hard trying to find the right words to explain the last few years and what would be appropriate to share with your best friends dad. “I’m fine really, just a long few days.” you share and smile to try and make it convincing.

He clicks his tongue and you know that he doesn’t believe you, your heart sinks. You never want to put your sadness or hurt onto anyone else, you’re a big girl and you can handle it on your own. You change the subject to the empty beer glass on the table in front of him, “Need another beer?” you ask

“Read my mind darlin, thanks,” he replies.

You head to the kitchen to grab him his beer and head back to the garage to bring it to him. When you get back he’s back at it strumming on his guitar in his own world, you wish for a second maybe you could just sit in his little world with him, it’s quiet and peaceful, no thinking required. You set the beer on the table and turn to head back upstairs.

“Hey Y/N, if you need anything or even just to talk I’m around, I know I’m not Violet, but if you need another friendly face, I’m here.” he smiles warmly at you.

Your heart melts, of course he’s the sweetest man in the whole world. “Thank you Mr. Munson that really means a lot,” you blush. Thankful to have one more person in this town on your side.

You close the door behind you and rush back upstairs hoping Violet doesn’t notice how long you’ve been gone. You hear voices and giggling on the other side of the door,

She’s on the phone with Quinn.

“She’s returned! Come here I want you to meet Quinn!” she exclaims. You breathe out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, no excuse necessary. Your friendship with Violet has always easier than breathing. You spend the rest of the night smoking weed and talking on the phone with her partner, glad to have the distraction from your recent interaction with her dad.

Did he really mean what he said? Or was he also just being nice? I guess he kind of has to be nice to me, being his daughters best friend. Plus he’s so out of my league, a man like him would never go for a girl like me, right?

Only time will tell.

No Pressure Tags!: (Just tagging some mutuals I thought might enjoy!) ** If you wanna be tagged in the next fic lemme know**

@untitled74745 @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @munsonology @lesservillain @tlclick73 @dukesmebby @cozyquinn @rowanswriting @succubusmunson @teddyeyeseddie @lofaewrites @chaoticmunsons @ryan-waddell11

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #Older! Eddie Munson #Older! Steve Harrington #older eddie munson #older steve harrington #Eddie Munson smut #Steve harrington smut #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie munson x reader x Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson fic #Steve Harrington fic #Steve Harrington x reader #Steddie x Reader #Steddie #chaoticharrington fics

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