#anyways this wasn’t the enemy making post

[cannibalsforbreakfast]

Cruel Summer - Chapter 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The "Eddie Munson is a speedway racer" high school AU no one asked for, but you're getting it anyways. Enemies to friends to lovers | No-Upsidedown AU | Fast cars, fast times | Reader moved from "the city" to Hawkins

Tags [will be updated as things progress]: swearing, underage drinking, dangerous driving, Jason sucks as usual, mentions of weed, light angst, misunderstandings, reader is afab, not sure if I'll have smut yet or not

A/N: Chapter 1 is already on Ao3 but here's the Tumblr version! New chapters will always be posted on Ao3 first, with a week or so delay to here.

CH1: 3,780w

-- -- --

“Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning, I sit around / Trying to smile, but the air is so heavy and dry”

If anyone had asked, you wouldn’t have said car racing was something you’d be interested in. Watching hunks of metal speeding around in circles always seemed pretty pointless to you. When combined with the auditory chaos of engines and screaming crowds, and nauseating smell of gasoline and burning rubber, it had never been high on your bucket list.

Then again, neither had moving to Hawkins, Indiana. And yet, here you were: stuck in small-town nowhere for (just, you hoped) the summer. But a summer practically felt like forever to you.

And so you were at the speedway car races with your cousin, Robin. Because apparently, she said, it would “be fun” and “social” and “lots of people went.” 

You supposed you should be lucky Robin was pretty chill about hanging out with you. After all, having your city-slicker cousin practically dumped on your doorstep without so much as a “by your leave” by your parents — who had gone off to “rediscover themselves” and hopefully salvage five years of impending divorce — probably wasn’t high on HER bucket list, either. She and her parents had been more than welcoming, sticking you and your five overstuffed suitcases in the spare room on the second floor, just next door to Robin, without hesitation and urging you to make yourself at home.

If you saw Robin and her parents exchange some pointed and pitying glances, well, you’d just try and ignore them. Because they were right. Your parents clearly didn’t care enough about you to take you with them on their wild second-honeymoon or whatever, so they’d abandoned you without looking back, saying they’d pick you up in a couple months before school started up again. They thought. Maybe homeschooling had been implied as a possibility if they happened to return a bit later than assumed from…Panama? Costa Rica? Whatever warm, probably tropical, place they’d gone to. Without their only daughter. 

Honestly, sometimes you just felt the truth of it in your bones when, at the height of their marital Cold War, they’d each called the other some variant of “frigid bitch.” Only the coldest of the cold would up and abandon their offspring like that, without any evident desire to really take responsibility for them ever again. If you just wandered off at the end of the summer, got a job waiting tables in the nearest big city, didn’t bother to send a forwarding address, you didn’t think they’d be too fussed. Depressing.

The frozen atmosphere at home had gone on so long, you’d practically adopted aloofness yourself as a survival mode. What you didn’t feel, couldn’t hurt. Didn’t help you with making any friends once you’d entered high school, but it kept anyone from really bothering you for three years. The summer before your senior year was supposed to be this golden eternity of afternoons at the pool, perfecting your tan, or giggling at the local mall while licking ice creams and debating who-liked-who-liked-who. 

Not wasting away in Hawkins, a town small enough you bet you could count all of the stoplights on one hand. 

You missed the city so much it ached . Missed the dizzying heights of the buildings towering above you, missed the way the very air seemed to thrum with an energy, a beat that got into your pulse and made you feel alive. Missed the hole-in-the-wall restaurants on every street and the used bookstores piled high with more volumes than you could read in a lifetime. Hawkins was…quaint, but inside you worried if you stayed here long enough it would drain the life out of you until you couldn’t make it anywhere else. 

Not that you’d say any of that to Robin, who was babbling cheerfully away at your side as you strolled up to the local speedway just out of town. She was wearing a loose striped men’s shirt with the cuffs rolled up and jeans, despite the lingering heat of the evening. Robin, you’d come to learn, was pretty much always babbling about something or another, a natural condition that tended to get even worse whenever she was flustered or nervous. Given your tendency to listen, rather than speak, you actually balanced each other out rather well. With her, surprisingly, you felt you could be…yourself…that little bit more. Felt a bit of that icy shell melt away. 

You tuned back in to hear her say, “We’re going to meet up with Steve, he’s gotten there early to stake us out a spot. You wouldn’t think it but it can get really crowded and picking the right spot out of the sun and the dust and on the right side of the track is, like, crucial to the enjoyment factor. Steve’s a boy, by the way. He’s not my boyfriend – well, he’s a boy who’s a friend, but we’re not like that, actually he’s more like an annoying brother. But he’s not annoying, I promise!”

You smiled to yourself as Robin rambled on. Truly, you found it more endearing than not. 

“I’m sure he’s nice,” you said, cutting in so Robin could actually take a full breath. She smiled back at you.

“Yeah, he’s great. But don’t tell him I said that, I swear his hair grows an inch every time someone says something nice about him.”

You smiled and promised that, of course, you wouldn’t breathe a word. 

The two of you step up to the bored-looking teenager taking tickets, and you passed over your paper stub, slightly sweaty from being clutched in your hand. Stepping through the entrance gate, you’re immediately assaulted with the smell of deep-fried foods mixed with beer, the raucous laughter of crowds of families and teens here for an evening out. A fine dust permeated the air, making your eyes water. The track, a packed dirt oval that was both bigger and smaller than you imagined, spread out before you, bordered by some haphazardly stacked rectangle bales of hay you assumed were there for the “safety” of the crowd, though they looked anything but. You imagined any car crashing into those at serious speed would take them out easily…as well as the onlookers setting up their camp chairs frighteningly close to the barrier. 

Across the track, a small elevated building rigged with wires and a mounted loudspeaker was clearly where the announcers were situated. Tinny commentary was blaring from the PA system, but it was almost impossible to hear above the general din. 

There were mullets and wife-beaters on display everywhere. As you looked around, you noted that everyone – and you mean everyone – seemed to be dressed in nothing more formal than jeans and a shirt. You hadn’t batted an eye when Robin left the house like that, because that’s what your cousin always wore. And she’d told you to dress casual but…

“Robin,” you asked, “am I overdressed?”

She’d been herding you along the track toward one end, but at your question she glanced over at you and winced, which you supposed was answer enough. 

“Robinnnnn,” you whined. 

“What?” she protested. “I said ‘casual,’ that’s what you came out in, so I figured it was fine!”

Up until you saw the sea of daisy dukes before you, you’d thought what you were wearing was casual. It certainly was back in the city. The simple, white-and-red polkadot dress you were wearing, cinched at the waist with a plain wide belt you’d dug out the bottom of your suitcase, cute frilly sleeves sitting just below your tanned shoulders, wouldn’t have been anything your classmates back home blinked at. You hadn’t even done your makeup, besides a swipe of lip gloss! But you were rapidly getting the sense you’d have to redefine your expectations here in Hawkins. And with the swirls of rust-colored dust almost constantly permeating the air, you could already tell white was a particularly bad choice.

Oh well, you’d just have to make the best of it. And get the dress in the wash sooner rather than later. 

“It’s alright, Robin,” you reassured your cousin, who’d been worrying at her lip while you thought. “It’s just a dress. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be in any of the cars,” you joked.

“Steve’ll probably have a blanket or something you can use anyways,” she said. “He’s a dad like that. Oh look, there he is. Steve! Steeeeve! Ugh, he isn’t listening. OI, DINGUS!”

Robin waved frantically at a boy a bit ahead of you, who’d staked out a pretty prime spot on the hillside around the middle of the straightaway, complete with camping chairs, picnic blanket and cooler of what you desperately hoped was something cold. Now this is what you’d imagined when Robin said “races.” And it was comfortingly far away from the hay barrier.

The boy – Steve – raked his hands through his already artfully disheveled mop of hair and rolled his eyes at Robin. 

“Could you shout any louder?” he grumbled. “Jesus, I think the whole crowd heard you.”

“Oh don’t be such a wuss. Hey, this is my cousin. She’s cool. Cousin, meet Steve. He’s a dweeb.”

“A dweeb with charm, also known as the best kind,” Steve said with a smile, reaching out to shake your hand. “I heard you’re in town for the summer. Welcome to Hawkins – guessing it’s a pretty big change from where you’re from.”

“Um, yeah, wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s better than I thought. Lots of nice people,” you offered him a small smile in return, a bit taken aback by the easy way he folded you into the dynamic. 

“I’ll bet,” he agreed. “First time at a speedway?”

“First time at any kind of races,” you admitted. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Not much too it really,” Robin said around a mouthful of beer. Clearly, she’d helped herself to Steve’s stash, but by the way he just shook his head, you got the sense this was basically normal. He silently offered you a bottle, but you shook your head – maybe in a bit. Steve did seem nice, but you weren’t quite ready to be under the influence under someone new just yet. Robin kept talking: “Cars go zoom zoom, and the one that goes zoom zoom the fastest wins. We mostly just come here to support Eddie.”

You cocked your head. “Who’s Eddie?”

“Friend from school. He’s been working extra shifts all summer, which is why you haven’t met him yet. He works down at the local body shop, races on the side. We’ll point his car out when he’s up.”

You nodded, sure he’d be nice too, if Robin’s taste in friends so far was anything to go by. 

The three of you sat, chatting amiably for a few minutes, and you felt yourself relaxing into Robin and Steve’s easy, familiar banter. They traded well-worn jabs back and forth, but there’s no heat behind them. You settled yourself on the blanket between them, tucking your skirt beneath your legs and mostly enjoying the vibe, only chiming in when you had something to say, like when Steve started to say “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” was supposedly underrated (he was wrong, and both you and Robin soundly told him so). 

As the sun finally started to go down – days were still long and hot, and all three of you were peevishly slapping at overly familiar mosquitos – the track lights finally flickered into life and it seemed like things were about to start. Robin let out a squeal, wiggling her knees in excitement. 

You were all ready for – you didn’t know, monster trucks or something? – when, to your surprise, the first line of cars that raced onto the track looked more like glorified go karts than anything else. Seeing your confusion, Steve leaned over and murmured, “They do the kiddie stuff first,” and you then saw that the drivers did seem awfully young. Fortunately they were wearing helmets.

The announcer counted down the start, and at the waving of the first green flag they tore around the track, kicking up immense clouds of gasoline-scented dust that settled over everything – your hair, your clothes, you could even see it coating the fine hairs on your arm. Gross. 

And these little kids were vicious. Not crashing directly into each other, but drifting aggressively around the turns and cutting each other off within what looked like inches to spare between bumpers. Everyone was cheering on individual numbers, and you, Steve and Robin got into it by picking your favorite car and rooting for them at the top of your lungs. After a few heats you felt your throat dry up, and gratefully accepted one of the cooling bottles of beer Steve offered. 

Beer with friends on a Friday night. Weirdly, this felt more like how you thought summer was supposed to go than you figured you’d get in Hawkins. Or anywhere. 

As the night wore on, the races of the small and mid-sized cars started to blur into each other, and you started idly wondering when you’d be able to go home. Well. To Robin’s home. 

“And nowwwww, the event you’ve all been waiting forrrrr!” shrilled the announcer.

From the back paddock where all the cars were parked, there came a grunty rumble. A vibration that made its way into your bones, your veins, the thump-thump of your heart. This was the rhythm you’d been missing, filling you up from the inside out. 

And then, the first line of proper-sized cars ripped their way onto the track, to a massive cheer from the crowd. But you weren’t even sure you could call them “cars.” Dinged, dented, and beaten back into shape, these were machines reduced to the essence of speed. Any extra baggage had clearly been ripped out – seats, radio, even the entire bottom half of the trunk was gone. What was left was the engines, the driver’s seat, and anything essential to make them go. 

They ran a few menacing laps around the track, jostling for position on the grid. 

“Look, there’s Eddie!” Robin pointed.

“Which one is he?” you asked.

“The black one, with the red bat on the hood.”

“Eddie’s always had a flair for the dramatic,” Steve clarified. 

Your eyes traced the black car as Eddie maneuvered it into the inside of the track, on the front row – “That’s a good position,” Steve clarified again. Unlike most of the other cars, which had paint jobs in varying states of peeling off, Eddie clearly kept his car freshly painted despite the risk of damage – it gleamed, pitch blank, with just the blood red of the bat leaping out of the design. From what you could see of Eddie, as he was mostly shielded by a helmet, he was also in all black. 

“I’m sensing a theme,” you muttered dryly. 

Like horses jostling for position, the cars – there must have been a dozen or so – revved their engines just behind the starting line. There was an agonizing moment of tension, where everyone stared at the red stoplight holding them in place. 

Then it winked green, the flag was waved, and the race began. 

You watched as Eddie’s car and the one on his right, painted a chipped red-white-and-blue roared to the front like bats of out hell. They gunned it down the straightaway before whipping into a drift around the curve that was so aggressive, their cars yawing onto two wheels so hard, your hands flew to your mouth to swallow a gasp despite yourself, sure they’d tip over or spin out. Magically Eddie’s car righted itself as he came out of the turn and he gunned it down the next straight, neck and neck with the other vehicle. 

The laps went by in what felt to you like seconds, a frenetic dance conducted at speed. With the razor-thin margins the two cars took the turns, you knew that if Eddie lost concentration for a nanosecond, he’d be out of the race. You blinked dust out of your eyes furiously, loath to miss a single second. Next to you, Robin and Steve were yelling – you were pretty sure Robin was just repeating profanities at this point – but you could hardly make yourself breathe normally, let alone cheer. 

There were only a few laps to go and the other car had stolen the lead from Eddie. Though Eddie was keeping the black monstrosity right on his tail, pushing himself right into the rear bumper to try and throw the other driver off. 

They made another sharp drift around a corner and, as they came off the curve, Eddie made his move, pushing the throttle to take his car around the outside of the red-and-white leader. He took the turn, hard, trying to get his nose in front of the other car’s, and this time you did let out a whimper of concern. Your heart thumped in time with the roar of the crowd, and when Eddie made it, slipping in front of his rival to cross the finish line first, you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. 

Steve and Robin were now jumping up and down and hugging each other, and you smiled at their infectious joy. 

The other cars coasted to a stop in the middle of the track while Eddie took his victory lap, waving the checkered flag from out the driver’s window. He must have spotted the two maniacs next to you, because the car rolled to a stop on the track in front of you, and Eddie stepped out from the car. 

You knew he drove like a devil, but you weren’t expecting him to look like a fallen angel. 

A strange shiver ran through you as you watched him pull off his black helmet. Long, dark curls spilled out, framing his sharp, sculpted face. Even with his bangs sweat-soaked and disheveled, he was capital H-O-T. Dark hair, dark eyes, with a plush mouth you knew was made for sin. He was everything your parents would have warned you away from, and everything you – or your body, at least – immediately wanted. 

“Be normal,” you thought to yourself. “This is Robin’s friend .”

Robin and Steve trotted down to the side of the track, and you trailed behind them, a little unsure. It was the last race of the evening, and with the entertainment over, the crowds were starting to melt away. It didn’t escape your notice that while all the other drivers were getting handshakes and back-slaps galore from their fellow racers and even some officials, no one had come over to congratulate the actual winner, Eddie, except for the three of you.

“Edieeeeee, you won!” Robin shrieked at her usual top-volume. “But also, ugh, you smell like fumes, ew no, don’t hug me.” She wiggled away from his playful attempt at a hug, wrinkling your nose. 

“Comes with the territory, Robin, you’re just gonna have to get used to it. You certainly don’t mind when I’m fixing your car for free, again . Hey, Steve, nice of the King to make an appearance.” The two boys traded fist bumps, Steve rolling his eyes at his high school nickname. You broke into a wide smile at their antics. 

Eddie’s eyes met yours, where you lingered behind, and he arched one eyebrow, his previously warm and open expression becoming more guarded, scanning you from the top of your windswept hair to the bottom of your now quite dusty flats. Your smile faded, and you resisted the urge to brush yourself off in the face of his gaze.

“Who’s this?” he asked. “Wasn’t aware we had a third cheerleader on the squad. Does little miss Dots like what she has to see so far?”

You find yourself bristling at his presumptuous tone. “I don’t quite take your meaning,” you respond stiffly. 

Eddie laughed, an open, easy sound you could have loved – except for the sharp edge to his voice. He straddled the hay bale, spreading his hands open. You tried not to look at how his black racing uniform stretched tight over his thighs. Really, you tried. 

“Come on, guys, this is a joke, right? Ha, ha, Eddie’s first race of the season, let’s get a cute little cupcake of a girl to come along, flirt a little, string lil ’ol Eddie along? Give the girl a ride to remember?”

He fixed his molten brown eyes on you. “Did someone put you up to it, Dots? Patrick? Jason? It’s the sort of shit thing Jason would do.”

By this point, both Steve and Robin were exchanging a confused glance that clearly conveyed their shared sense of, “uh, what?” But you knew exactly what. 

Eddie had taken one look at you – at your too-much dress, too-much smile, maybe something else you didn’t even know in your demeanor – and concluded that the only possible explanation for your presence was that you were a…paid escort? Hooker? Someone bribed to come watch his race and flutter your eyelashes at him, spread her legs?

You felt the usual protection of your ice queen reputation from back home freezing off any earlier warmth from your expression. 

“Someone clearly has a high opinion of himself. I’m not going to cream just because you’ve got half skills with half a car. Get over yourself. Robin,” you turn to your cousin, “I’m going back to the house.”

“It’s miles to the house,” Robin protested, nervous gaze flicking between you – fuming – and Eddie – nonchalantly picking at his cuticles, not sparing you another glance. 

“I’ll walk.” It was only a mile or so to Robin’s, and you didn’t want to spend a single second more in his company, friends with your cousin or not. Eddie’d done a spectacular job of reminding you why you usually didn’t do things that were “fun” or “social” or that “lots of people” went to. You didn’t need another asshole man in your life, your father was doing a bang-up job of that by himself. 

“I’d give you a ride, Dots, but as you can see,” Eddie gestured to the literally empty passenger seat in the stock car next to him, “I can’t.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed, whirling around and stomping off before reaching a hand up to swipe angrily at the tears pooling in the corners of your eyes. 

You heard Robin run after you. “She’s my cousin you MORON,” she called back to Eddie. When she caught up to you, you gave her a watery smile in thanks, and she reached over to squeeze your shoulders. 

New item for your summer bucket list: Never, ever see Eddie again.

-- -- --

NEXT TIME: You and Robin go to a party.

[favroitecrime]

i don’t go to the yellowjackets fandom actually so correct me if i’m wrong but if IIIIIII were barely surviving and was throwing a fit over one (there’s a 100% chance there’s more btw) person not helping but then i also find out someone is pregnant, my priority would shift from murder and cannibalism to questioning why you’d choose to still be pregnant actually

[wiser-girl]

It's less about the ship itself and more about them hating Aang tbh

Do I hate Aang? Absolutely not, that’s my boy. Do I hate Aang as a genuine 100% endgame presented as they are love interest for Katara? …yeah sorry

[endawn]

martin might have been the true chosen one to defeat mehrunes dagon and therefore end the mythic dawn and oblivion crisis but pax was the chosen one to the chosen one. neither of them could do anything without the other. akatosh had his fate written a long time ago. not only that, he was fated to become the divine crusader and defeat umaril.

[breadbrobin]

the trees

clarisse la rue x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of apollo reader]

summary: you have a very specific skill set that helps your team with capture the flag, and clarisse thinks it’s fascinating. in fact, she thinks you’re as fascinating as you think she is.

warnings: swearing, arguments, fighting, PINING, heights i guess (reader is up a tree), possibly ooc clarisse but not too much i hope.

word count: 2.5k

(so the brainrot has (inevitably) spread to clarisse. there’s gonna be a part two to this as well, so lmk if y’all want it (tbh i’ll probably post it anyway but still). oh and also i love her and i am a clarisse apologist and lover until the day i die)

(sort-of-enemies to sort-of-lovers, but more like idiots to pining idiots (in a tree))

(part 2 here)

———————————————

archery wasn’t the only thing you were good at, but it was by far the best thing you were good at. a daughter of apollo: master of archery, mediocre of music and magical at making weird ass noises. bird calls, animal sounds, imitations—you name it, you could do it.

and those were useful tactics in capture the flag, for sure.

annabeth chase was a master strategist, and you had to give it to her: she remembered everyone’s strengths, weaknesses and alliances while you couldn’t even remember what you’d had for breakfast that day.

as always, you were tucked up in a tree, around halfway up. you weren’t too high, so that you could speak and people wouldn’t automatically know you were above them, but you weren’t too low so they couldn’t see you.

you kind of liked being in the trees now. after three years of capture the flag and around six months of freaking out every time you climbed above ten feet, you were finally used to it. it was almost calming; a way for you to relax after a stressful day and pretend that nothing around you existed.

until the red team came by, that is.

that’s what you were waiting for. the flag was around fifty feet to your right. your job was to be a lookout and a distraction.

it was your favourite part of the game, getting to trick people and shoot arrows at them when they came too close, allowing the blue team members around the bottom of your tree to pop out and disarm their opponents.

it wasn’t a trick you used every time—not even the ares cabin are that stupid—but when you did use it, you had the time of your life.

there was a snapping branch to your left. you straightened up from where you were leaning against the tree trunk behind you and peered through the leaves. you were perched on a thick bough, hidden by leaves and branches, but able to see enough through them that you could do your job.

you could hear voices, but you couldn’t see anyone.

you listened carefully. you knew that voice.

you realised with a start who it was.

clarisse la rue.

fucking clarisse, man. she drove you insane. and not for the reason she drove most of camp insane. no, unlike almost everyone else, you were attracted to her. in fact, you were, annoyingly, in love with her, you’d have to admit. it was infuriating.

you could hear her cutting through the forest. it was strange. she didn’t usually come for the flag. usually, she hunted in the woods and caught stragglers. she didn’t want the glory as much as she wanted the fight. to her, winning the battle seemed more important than winning the war.

regardless of why, you could hear her voice. she was talking to her siblings below you, creeping through the foliage.

the sun was warm on your face and you send up a brief prayer to your father.

from your lips slipped an almost perfect impression of your blue team guards. you’d used this trick last game, but clarisse hadn’t been there, so she wouldn’t know. “i can’t believe they put us on guard duty again.”

they all froze in their tracks, looking at each other, then ahead in the opposite direction from the flag.

you held in a snicker. “ugh, yeah, it’s the worst. i mean, why can’t we do anything fun? i wanna fight clarisse!”

you could see the smirk curling on her lips and you had to stop yourself from blushing.

you continued this cat and mouse game. the ares kids below you fanned out, aiming to surround you. it would have been a smart move, if there was actually a flag there and not just a tree.

slowly, they inched in, then leapt out.

“ahh!! you caught us! i’ve been impaled!”

they looked around in fear and confusion but clarisse looked straight up. she always did.

“hey, angel, nice voice,” she mocked. “wanna come on down?”

you shook your head. “no, thanks, i’m comfortable.”

she raised and eyebrow, seeing your arrow drawn and pointed directly at her. “that’s not necessary.”

“isn’t it?” your arrow flew and, though she hit it away, you teammates came pouring out of the foliage, having been waiting for your signal.

a fight ensued. it looked like it was going well for a short while, then the tides turned.

they weren’t as caught off guard as they usually were. hell, clarisse was even smiling!

with what looked like very little effort, the ares campers effectively destroyed your teammates. they were left disarmed and defeated, and you were stuck in a tree. typical.

as her siblings took their weapons, clarisse looked up at you. “you wanna come down now?”

you shook your head. “rather not. the view from up here is pretty good.”

she muttered something to herself, but you couldn’t hear her. then she spoke up. “what if we come up there?”

you drew your bow back immediately and an arrow pierced the dirt right in front of her foot.

she looked down at it, then back up at you, an amused smirk on her face. “right, silly me.”

that surprised you. she was usually cold and cruel in capture the flag, always taking no prisoners and leaving no survivors—in a technical sense. you’d seen people nursing their minor wounds after the games when your siblings forced you to help out in the infirmary (not that you’re much help in there, but regardless), and everyone heard the stories they’d tell of clarisse appearing out of the ferns and attacking ruthlessly. so why was she not being so ruthless today?

she was certainly cruel in her fight against your team members, but any other day, she would have thrown her spear at you or thrown one of your arrows back, or even climbed up anyway. instead, she just smirked up at you, content to wait.

“where’s the flag, bows?” she asked, using a nickname she’d only used a few times, one that referenced both the bows you used and the bows you sometimes put in your hair.

you shrugged. “dunno. they don’t tell me anything. i just get out here and told to be annoying.” your traitorous eyes flickered to the direction of the flag. you’d never been good at lying.

and curse her, clarisse noticed. she always noticed when it came to you, it seemed. whether it was catching you in a lie, catching you when you were admiring her or catching your every move when sparring, she always noticed.

she nodded at her siblings and they moved off. “i’ll wait here. try and flush our squirrel out.”

if they were confused or surprised, they didn’t show it.

once they were gone, clarisse plucked the arrow from the dirt and studied it. “this is new.”

“sam from hephaestus made them,” you said meekly. why would she stay behind? it didn’t make sense. you weren’t a threat, or even a good fight.

her face darkened. “oh. and where is your boyfriend now, then? hm?”

your cheeks flamed. “he’s not my boyfriend.” and it was true. he wasn’t. despite the fact that he liked you and made things for you all the time, your heart was decidedly with another. and she was right below you, tossing your prized arrow aside like an old tissue. “he’s on your team anyway. you should know where he is.”

she smirked again. “oh, yeah. i remember now. that’s right, i sent him to try and get our flag. he didn’t even make it five steps before he was attacked.”

her bitter laugh made your heart clench. was it pity for sam or your feelings for her, or both? you weren’t sure. either way, it was starting to get on your nerves.

it was silent for a long time. she looked up at you every few seconds, then at the tree, like she was gauging how hard she’d have to push you for you to die on impact. her eyes were sharp and her smile was sharper, and fuck you were attracted to her.

you cleared your throat and broke the silence, hearing fighting off in the near distance. you would go and help, but the only way for you to do so would be to tree-hop all the way to the flag, and while you could do it, it wasn’t the best idea. “why did you stay h—what are you doing?” you aimed an arrow at her.

“relax, angel, we both know you won’t actually shoot me.” she was climbing up the tree. fast. “and don’t worry, i’m not gonna push you out or attack you. i don’t like looking up at you.”

call you stupid or whipped or whatever, but you believed her. you lowered your bow but didn’t lessen the tension on your string. she’d almost reached your branch when you swivelled around to face her. you moved fast, your arrow returning to its holster and you body facing the trunk of the tree with your legs swung over each side of the wide bough. your dagger was swiftly removed from its holster and pressed under clarisse’s chin.

she laughed at you.

you faltered slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she snickered. “i just saw it coming. now scoot back.”

you dropped your dagger and shifted backwards, glad the bough was strong.

she clambered onto your branch easily, sitting facing you with her back against the tree trunk, a smirk on her face.

you sighed bitterly. “you see everything coming.”

she shrugged. “pretty much. but so do you.”

“that’s the gift of divine premonition,” you grumbled. it could be useful sometimes, but all you really got was a sense, a feeling or, occasionally, a single frame of a moment. right now, though, your senses were so clogged with her vanilla-strawberry and leather scent, and with her, that you could hardly think, let alone experience a minor prophecy. not to mention the fact that if you did, you’d probably fall out of the tree.

she shrugged. “isn’t that useful?”

“yeah, when it actually works or doesn’t make me pass out.” you shrugged. “it’s temperamental.”

she hummed in thought, leaning back and crossing her arms. her knees were mere centimetres from yours.

“what are you doing up here, clarisse?” you asked.

she shrugged, but you could see a shift in her demeanour when she said your name. it was like the muscles in her shoulders relaxed for a moment, then tensed again. “didn’t want you to escape.”

“so you let your other prisoners escape?” you gestured to the ground, where your teammates were sitting around fifteen feet from the tree in a circle, plucking the grass.

clarisse raised her eyebrows at you in amusement. “oh, i think they’re fine. they’re too scared of me to do anything, anyway.”

you narrowed your eyes at her. “i don’t think you’re that scary.”

she rolled her eyes. “sure. but everyone else does. so you’re wrong.”

“it was my opinion. my opinion can’t be wrong if it’s my opinion.” that was another thing: you were never one to start an argument, but by god would you escalate it.

“your opinions wrong if i say it’s wrong,” she huffed, her jaw tight.

“not how opinions work, babe,” you said lightly, using your dagger point to carve away at the bark beneath you.

she smacked your hand to stop you. “you’re gonna dull it!”

“the point is already dull!” you protested, poking your finger to show her. it indented, but didn’t draw blood. “see?”

“so, what, you threatened me with a butter knife? i’m offended.”

“it’s the idea of it that cuts deeper anyway. the primal fear of being gutted by a dagger. in capture the flag at least.” you shrugged, carving a wonky flower in the bark. “it’s more about threats than action.”

clarisse rolled her eyes. “and what if a monster comes and attacks you, and all you’ve got is this blunt dagger?”

“you ever seen an archers muscles?” you turned slightly and flexed your shoulders. you could see her eyes follow the sharp lines of your shoulders and back. “i’ll use force. force is more effective than sharpness. you know that.”

“and yet, my weapons are all still sharp.” she snatched the dagger from you and pulled out a whetstone from a pocket in her cargo pants. she began sharpening your blade.

“hey, don’t—“

she smacked your hand with the flat of your own blade when you reached for it, and you withdrawn with a hiss, shaking your hand. she laughed. “i guess force is more important, huh, angel?”

your cheeks were hot. “don’t call me that.”

“why, you worried you might like it?” she looked up, teasing. her eyes narrowed at the look on your face and then she grinned. “you do like it.”

“no. shut up.”

she laughed again, but it was a little softer than usual. she looked back down at the dagger. “did sam make this for you?”

“yeah, w—clarisse!” you gasped as she dropped it off the bough. or, more accurately, threw it off the bough. “what was that for?”

she shrugged. “it’s not that good. i’ll get you a better one from the ares stash. don’t worry.”

you glared at her. “that was mine, though!”

“it was blunt and poorly made,” she protested. “it wasn’t good enough for you.”

the way she said it made you think there was a double meaning there.

“he’s not good enough for you,” she said, softer, proving you right.

your eyes were wide and your cheeks were flaming. “what?”

“you heard me.” her softness was staying, it seemed. if you weren’t mistaken, her hand was reaching for yours. “he’s not. you know he’s not. why do you like him?”

before you could respond, a horn blew in the distance and cheering erupted from around the forest. red team had won.

clarisse didn’t look happy. she leaned back—you hadn’t even realised she’d leaned forward—and glared at the bough between you both.

“congratulations,” you said softly. “you deserved the win.”

“yeah, we did.” her voice carried very little enthusiasm.

you studied her face for a minute, like you were committing every feature to memory. “clarisse…”

she didn’t respond. instead, she swung her leg over the bough and started climbing down. only when she got two branches down did you begin to follow her, hurrying in your attempt to catch up. you couldn’t. no matter how good you were at something, she was better.

she nodded at you as she walked off, your foot caught in a tight spot.

once you’d finally got down, your teammates were surrounding you. some asked you what had happened, some accused you of being a double agent for them, some asked if you were okay.

you answered them all absently as you all walked back towards the stream, but your heart wasn’t in it. what the hell was going on?

you’d reached the stream by the time you realised you’d left your dagger behind, and you were back at your cabin, trying to fall asleep, when you realised that it didn’t bother you at all.

(part 2)

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Owned By The Demon Admiral (AFAB Reader Version)

Male Demon Yandere x AFAB Demon Reader CW: Noncon/dubcon, terms like pussy used for reader's genitals, yandere DILF, general yandere behavior, groping, biting, captive reader, reader is setup, an overly cute semi-aquatic demon cat named Mr. Sir Buttons Word Count: 2k (I am saying this fic is AFAB versus female because no gendered pronouns are ever used at all for the reader in anyway, rather their genitals are biologically female. Terms like pussy/cunt are used so if that is triggering for you please avoid this fic. This was a birthday gift for a friend normally I don't do AFAB reader so this may be a bit sloppy. I hope you enjoy it.)

The battleship you were on drifted through the calm blood red waters of one of Hell’s oceans. The light of the two suns scintillated beautifully off the serene waves. No evidence at all that your ship had just sunk an enemy vessel, condemning the unlucky demons manning it to death.

In the ensuing ebullience at having survived with no damage the leader of the ship, Admiral Oraan, put one hand behind on your ass and one behind your head and pulled you into a passionate kiss as his tail began to wrap around your leg.

You struggled to push off the larger demon but finally he released you. You steadied yourself and gasped for breath.

“I said no!”

Then you stormed off to your quarters.

This wasn’t the first time your commanding officer had done something like this. This was at least the fourth time you had rebuffed his advances. He just wouldn’t get it through his thick skull. You were focused strictly on your military career. The war against Pride, one of the Princes of Hell, was far too important for romance and sex to get in the way.

But you underestimated his desire for you. And his rage. You should have assumed that the highest ranking admiral in Wrath’s fleet would have some severe anger issues. But you naively thought that service to his prince would take priority over his feelings for you.

The first thing he had done was to sabotage your quarters during inspection. You didn’t know it was his doing and were angered and paranoid that someone would thrash your space in such a way, causing you to get written up.

In reality it was all Oraan. A rising action in the story of your downfall.

The next thing that was done to ruin your uniforms. He told you it was disrespectful to the prince you all served, to the branch you served, and to him to have your uniforms in such a state.

After that it was a more serious infraction. Reported for contraband that was then found in your locker.

The final, and most infuriating, nail in the coffin happened in the next skirmish. A small opponent, easy to sink and posing only a slight threat to the hellish dreadnought on which you served. But Oraan had forced multiple witnesses to claim you were a coward. That you had abandoned your station and hid in your quarters while the rest of the crew gallantly manned their posts.

This led to you having to be court-martialed. No time to dock and have more formal proceedings. You had to be court-martialed right on the ship. Despite the evidence against you, you thought that once you were given your chance to make your arguments and have your comrades vouch for your behavior and character then this would all disappear.

That isn’t quite how things played out for you. You started the court-martial optimistic but with each passing moment a sense of dread became stronger and stronger. Each witness, people you had respected and thought of as your friends, gave damning testimony. They painted you as a belligerent, lazy, neglectful oaf. Someone who cared nothing for duty, rules, or honor.

You had to hold back tears as your body shook with rage and sorrow. Why were they saying such things? Why were they lying about you and your actions and character?

It finally became obvious when the sentence was passed. Not death, as might befit someone who fled from combat. Not dishonorable discharge. No, you were being reassigned. As Oraan’s personal attendant. “A non-combat role where no one would be harmed by your cowardly behavior.”

It was all him. He had pressured or otherwise bribed everyone to turn against you. To lie about you. All to get you in his clutches and punish you for rejecting him. And there was nothing you could do about it. He was an older and stronger demon, you’d have no hope to beat him in a fight. And even if you somehow managed it, how would you escape on a ship? And if by some miracle you either made it to land or just waited until the ship was docked you would be chased for all eternity.

No, he had you in your clutches. Your only hope was that your contract with the navy was almost up. You were only to be enlisted for five years at a time before you had to renew. The only exception for that being prolonged was if a hot war was going on, but this one was nearing its end. Since all that happened was the court-martial was just technically a reassignment you were only bound by the terms of your enlistment.

All you had to do was endure for ten months.

It was humiliating. Oraan really wanted to keep you reminded of your new position. You had to be at his side constantly. Obeying all his orders and whims. You had to press his uniforms and get his meals. And in private the tasks got much worse.

Sucking his girthy cock was a common “request” of his. Almost daily. You also had to bathe with him most nights. This required you to wash his entire well-muscled form. If you were a willing participant you would have enjoyed it, he was very attractive, the tattoo of an anchor on his left shoulder and the three large scars on his ribs adding to his rugged allure.

But you weren’t a willing participant. And bathing him usually led to him giving you an “inspection.” That was where he touched, kissed, groped every inch of you before sliding his cock into your hot pussy, slowly fucking into you until he came hard. His tongue, of course, had to probe your mouth during these inspections, “just to be thorough.”

It was good that he had you eat meals with him in his private quarters, because you didn’t think you’d be able to look any of the other crew members in the eye ever again. The ones that hadn’t been involved in fucking over your entire life were the ones that believed the lies about you. On the entire ship you had not a single ally. The only one you could confide in was Mr. Sir Buttons, the semi-aquatic demonic cat that served as the mascot and unofficial morale officer on the ship.

You were on your way back from taking your food trays back to the galley when you felt something soft rub against your leg. Mr. Sir Buttons! You had a few minutes before you had to be back with Oraan so you stooped down and picked him up. He purred loudly.

“At least I never have to worry about you betraying me.”

He meowed as if in affirmation. You nuzzled his thick, red, waterproof fur before placing him back down to go about his very important demonic cat business.

When you got back to Oraan’s quarters he was naked on the bed. His large prick standing erect and ready for the attention you would surely have to give it, a bead of precum running down the length evidently in anticipation.

You sighed in resignation and began to strip your clothing. You had been doing this for over a month now. Only less than nine more to go. You could do it, just one moment at a time.

Too excited after leering at your naked form, he couldn’t wait for you to come to him anymore. Instead he got up and used his strong arms to pick you up and pin you to the bed. He stole your lips with his, kissing you in a greedy frenzy, his large cock swung below as he groped your chest.

“Mine! I can’t believe after all these years you’re finally all mine!”

He bit your neck, causing you to moan involuntarily. But maybe you should just give into the pleasure of the situation. It was going to happen either way and you’d be able to move on with your life once this was all over anyway. Besides, getting into it a bit might just help him finish faster so you’d have less time stuck in this position.

Oraan massaged the outside of your cunt before sliding a couple of fingers into you to get you wet and ready for his large prick.

When he lined his cock up with your drooling entrance, rough hands on your hips, you didn’t look away or flinch as you would normally. You wrapped your arms and legs around him instead, allowing him the perfect angle to slam deeply into your pussy. He grinned, ecstatic that you finally seemed to have not only learned your place but were actively embracing it. He slammed down with hard but slow thrusts. Each one making you gasp and each one punctuated with another kiss or nip up your neck.

Lewd squelching noises emanated from your sex as he increased the tempo of your lovemaking.

Had any of the crew passed the admiral’s quarters on their way through the halls all they would have heard was the rhythmic slap of Oraan’s nuts against your skin as he bred you along with the occasional grunt or swear from him or moan from you.

“Fuck! I love you so much!”

You only drooled a bit while looking up at him dumbly with lustful eyes, having been fucked nearly senseless. You scratched his shoulders with your sharp demonic nails as you pulled him closer to you in an attempt to somehow get him deeper. You were near your climax, desperate for it.

The pain from your nails spurred him on, causing him to fuck you at a new pace that straddle the line between pain and pleasure. You winced as he came hard, your tight clenching walls milking his cock and sending him over the edge soon after.

He gave a few final thrusts into you to empty his balls good and deep before pulling out and holding you tight, caging you in with his sweat-slicked body. You went limp from exhaustion, practically basking in the afterglow that always followed such intense, passionate sex. If you didn’t know any better you could have mistaken Oraan for a lust demon. Though you imagined saying such a thing to his face would have him prove instantly that he was, in fact, a being of wrath.

When the two of you had recovered he took you into the small shower with him. This time around, he cleaned you. Gently washing your body of cum and sweat before rinsing your hair. Far more tender behavior than you would have thought possible from the stern leader. Maybe there was more wisdom to just being more open to your predicament than you had initially thought.

It was a change in your behavior that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the man who had orchestrated the vast shift in your life circumstances.

“Finally decided to give in, huh?” Came his gruff voice from behind you.

You had no reason to be dishonest or hide your thoughts from him.

“Well, my contract is up in just a few months. I am not going to renew so this assignment is only temporary. I figured it’ll go by faster if I just accept it.”

He laughed and pulled you close to him, you could feel his stubble on your neck as he whispered words that made your fiery demon blood run cold.

“With my power, influence, and wealth I can assure you that your signature will keep renewing that contract for eternity, sweetheart. Whether you sign it yourself or not. Even if we aren’t deployed I will find a way to keep you with me.”

You went limp and would have fallen to the floor had he not had his arms wrapped tightly around you. The room felt like it was spinning. You barely took note of the water trailing down your skin or the chaste kiss he pressed to your cheek.

It was over for you, now that Oraan finally had you there was absolutely nothing that would make the older demon give you up.

[spdrwdw]

hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name. 

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies. 

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going. 

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family. 

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with. 

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world. 

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men. 

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose. 

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together. 

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara. 

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home. 

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head. 

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated. 

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever! 

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape. 

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them. 

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him. 

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were. 

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid. 

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other. 

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats. 

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you. 

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other. 

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection. 

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending. 

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent. 

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you. 

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all. 

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor. 

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message. 

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes? 

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him. 

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes. 

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him. 

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet. 

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door. 

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them. 

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son. 

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions. 

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot. 

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked. 

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot. 

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses. 

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body. 

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted. 

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck. 

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him. 

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave. 

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there. 

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track. 

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story. 

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one. 

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times. 

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong. 

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her. 

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there. 

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house. 

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come. 

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband. 

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact. 

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. 

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt. 

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you. 

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands. 

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit. 

“What?” You questioned. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress. 

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked. 

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a  man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over. 

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up. 

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time. 

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage. 

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two. 

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone. 

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

 He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus. 

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes. 

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see. 

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him. 

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel. 

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty. 

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader. 

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table. 

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat. 

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation. 

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though. 

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly. 

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man. 

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone. 

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers. 

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables. 

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.  

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him. 

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible. 

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night. 

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you. 

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed. 

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x Fem! Reader [vol ii]

Summary: you were desperate for a roommate after Nancy got married and moved out. An ad in the paper goes unanswered until someone comes knocking on the door.

W.C 3.8k

Trigger warning: enemies to lovers trope, eventual smut, language, crude behavior, Eddie is a fucking menace 🖤 this will be a series 💋

{a/n} I probably should have added this when I originally posted it. But I’m a little dumb— anyway, this is my submission for @newlips ’s milestone of love hope you all enjoy it 💋 I truly enjoy writing and I wouldn’t be here without the support you all as readers/ fellow writers bring to me every single day! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart ♥️

He wasn’t your first option for a roommate, in fact he was so far off your radar for a potential housemate, you damn near shrieked when you saw him. But when nobody had showed up besides him to view the small two bedroom house that you were forced to sublease after your roommate got married— you didn’t have a fucking choice. It was too expensive to run another ad in the Hawkins Post and summer was coming to a close. You were fucked.

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you snarl as you throw open the door to see his stupid grin. Always too toothy, too goddamn endearing. Made your stomach bind up. “No, no way.”

Standing in all his sadistic leather glory was Eddie fucking Munson. He’s taller than he used to be, still a long haired asshole, reeking of weed and cheap deodorant. What kind of sick twisted joke is this? Did you really piss off mother karma that bad that you have to live in a separate, more fucked up layer of hell? Fuck you Dante, and your inferno. There’s not a single other person in this town who needs somewhere to stay?!

He pushes his way into your home, leaning forward with a shit eating grin, eyes hooded and winking as your lips curl in disgust. “Nice to see you too sweetheart.” He taunted. Licking his lips as he stalked past you, his filthy work boots tracking dirt onto the carpet.

“Yuck — do not— call me that,” you hissed, you stand with your hand still on the knob, not fully committing to wanting to shut the door— praying that he was some sort of a hallucination.

“You gonna show me around, or should I raid your panty drawer while you sulk?” A dimple dips into his cheeks as his stupid grin grows wider on his face.

You slam the door with a thud, “kitchen, living room, my bedroom, the other bedroom, bathroom, garage, laundry in the basement.” You’re practically shouting, as you stomp around the small space, pointing to the direction of each room, taking a grand total of twenty seconds to point everything out, not giving a fat rats ass if he was following you or not. His laugh echoes off the walls, taunting you, making your skin crawl and your ears itch. You turn around to find him quick on your heels, your face almost smashing into his grease covered work shirt.

He doesn’t move, or make any attempt to step away from you, forcing you to put the space between you both, stepping back and smoothing down your hair. His eyes kill to yours, dark swirls of muddy browns searching your own, he asks, “Why do you get the bigger room?”

The fucking audacity of this man. You could wring his neck right now and nobody would even know.

“Excuse me?” You question, peering into his chocolate eyes, waving a finger in his face, “maybe because It’s my fucking house, you’re lucky if you’ll get a room at all.”

He leans his head back with a laugh, letting it slam forward as he deadpans, creeping forward and stepping around you, waiting til he’s behind you to whisper in your ear, “I’m lucky? That ad was in the paper for over a week,” he seethes, “I bet I’m the only one who showed up to view the place, so nice try, Tooty— but you’re desperate for the cash.” He wasn’t wrong, you were desperate, the salon paid okay but Josie just upped the price on your rental chair, making your mortgage almost impossible for you to pay on your own.

“…I’m doing you a favor. So, if you want me to pay rent and utilities, then I’ll, so graciously, be taking the bigger room.” His breath fans across the back of your neck, making the hairs stand up, and goosebumps riddle your skin. You turn to face him, hands on your hips trying to show how serious you are.

“I know it took you like four times longer to graduate than anyone in United States history, but you can’t possibly be this damn dumb.” It was a cheap shot and you know it, but who does he think he is? Barging in here with demands like a fucking A list celebrity. Not today, mother fucker.

A comment that would have normally made anyone else burst into tears, or at least leave hollering ‘bitch!’ as they stomped out to their car, only fuels Eddie’s perverted fire, “Ooo, an insult and a scolding, what’s next a spankin’?”

Your hard-ass facade drops, your face faltering to one of disgust instead of stern, don’t-fuck-with-me, boss lady, “Get out, Munson.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stay.” He saunters towards the kitchen table and pulls out his wallet, of course its a chain wallet, you roll your eyes as he starts forking over an impressive amount of bills and sets them down, one by one.

“Here’s my first month, last month and deposit.”

The total is way more than what you’d even told him but you're still tongue tied from his comments, he lives for this shit and you had fallen for it—rookie mistake.

“I’ll be back in a few hours to start moving stuff in.” He smiles widely, moving towards the door, “See you then, roomie.”

His figure haunts you for the next few hours you have left of peace. His smell lingers around the house, you shove open every window you can, including the one that was painted shut by the previous owners. He was so fucking annoying. Is that supposed to be charm he was throwing at you? Fucking barf. The only thing you were feeling was rage, and that you needed to shower after feeling his breath on your skin. Lighting every scented candle you can find, Sugar cookie and beach sands will do— the smell slowly wafts out of the windows. You shower quickly, figuring better do it now than after he arrives, the dreaded walk in a towel from the bathroom to your room was something you hadn’t thought of until this second. Hot water sprays against your skin, assaultingly hot, almost blistering the skin on your back.

You are seething, raging mad. If you were a cartoon, smoke would be funneling out of your ears. Mocking him, you think of better comebacks than you had thought up earlier. Scrubbing your skin until you resembled a lobster, and angrily scratching your scalp. “What’s next a spankin?” GOD he’s so nasty, the sheer nerve of him makes you want to throw a toaster into the shower with you. Nothing a few volts can’t fix. You towel off, looking at your reflection in the mirror as you wipe away the condensation. The stress of the day slowly melted off as it was rinsed down the drain.

You’re applying your eye cream when a—loud as fuck— knock on the door shakes the walls.

“Honey, I’m home!” Eddie hollers as you peek through the glass. He’s carrying a duffle bag and a 30 pack of Busch Light. 3 smiling idiots are behind him, two passing a joint back and forth while balancing a very worn mattress, the other swaying on the sidewalk holding a guitar, most likely already drunk.

Tucking the tail end of the towel wrapped around your head into itself, you fling open the door, “Jesus Christ Eddie, will you shut up! I have neighbors you know!”

“Oooo— first fight!” One of the idiots with shaggy blonde hair preens.

Your glare could compete with lasers against his skin, prying through his epidermis and burning the vessels.

Eddie lets out a laugh, “aww sweetheart, I didn’t know you were planning a slumber party!” he says gesturing to your towel and pink robe. “Give me about 30 minutes and I’ll be braiding your hair and you can paint my nails, give me all the hot gossip!”

You turn with a huff half closing the door behind you. The gaggle of idiots roaring with laughter at Eddie’s joke.

He pushes through the door into the house, tossing his bag onto the table, knocking over the napkin holder and the stack of mail, letting out a loud sigh. He rips the thirty pack open on the side, making the beers crash to the floor. You still your eyes and cross your arms, unamused by his stupid antics. He cracks one open, slurping up the spray of suds as it puddles around his hand and down onto the carpet. He kicks a beer towards you and raises his up in triumph. “Here’s to you roomie, Home Sweet Home!”

You’re so fucked.

-

“Robin, I’m seriously going to kill him. I don’t care if I have to go to jail—anything would be better than this!” you whisper-yell into the phone, you watched Eddie and his band of misfits bring in box after box, most of his stuff was in black plastic garbage bags. They formed a line throwing the bags to one another and the last one haphazardly tossing them into his room.

“Oh relax! A hunk like him moving in and you don’t even have to pay him? You just hit the jackpot!” She giggles on the other end of the phone, smacking through her licorice.

“More like jackass with all the shit he’s moving in.”

You’re hunkered in your room, between the wall and your bed, twirling your bedroom phone cord through your fingers, “Seriously the place smells like weed so bad I’m probably getting a contact high as we speak.”

Robin lets out a throaty laugh, “Might do you some good, you’re so fucking tense all the time.”

“Sorry—” you say, twiddling the blue carpet fibers through your fingers, “I’m just stressed after Nancy moved out is all.” It wasn’t a lie, Nancy moving in was a huge relief to you, she took care of almost everything. Organizing bills, scheduling pest control when needed, she even wrote the garbage pick up days and hung it on the garage door. With her gone, this all falls on you. “What if he steals my stuff in the middle of the night and bails?”

She curses your full name, “He may be a lot of things, but a thief is not one of them—seriously you have nothing to worry about, calm your boobies!”

“Boobies!” Steve yells, joining the room Robin was in, “it’s Eddie, he’s a total nerd, you’ll be fine.”

“If he’s so great Then you can live with him Steve!”

“Nope, no can do,” he says around a mouthful of food,

“I gotta keep this clumsy oaf on a short chain”

“Oh, you’re dead Harrington.” The phone drops and all you hear is squealing and thudding of feet running around.

“Robin! Not my shampoo! ”

“Steve? Robin?” You wait in silence as the line goes dead, “Uhh!” Slamming the phone into the receiver you hear Eddie and his leather clad Barbarians holler goodbye to one another. One too many “see ya later man” ’s and you’re practically puking. You open the door to your room and poke your head out. Watching closely as Eddie tears through garbage bags, unloading heaps and heaps of clothing, an entire bag dedicated to just band shirts, another revealed bedding that was quite literally rolled up and thrown into the bag. A quick sniff test has him turning up his nose.

The kitchen is taken over by Eddie’s stuff, more bags, more boxes, a cookbook titled: The Dungeonmeister Cookbook is sitting on the stove. A stack of Burger King collectible Disney cups is cluttered around the microwave. Along with an impressive amount of neon twisty straws and a bowl with a straw connected to drink the milk.

It’s like a small child moved into your home instead of a grown ass man.

Opening the fridge to get an apple, you can’t help but notice Eddie also moved some refrigerator items with him as well. Two big bottles of hot sauce, more beer than the local bar probably holds, a half drank carton of orange juice, and a giant jar of pickles, without a lid. Huffing with annoyance you step over Eddie’s bags of shit and get a knife from the drawer to slice the apple. The loud shrill screeching of 80’s metal almost makes you cut your finger. Stomping into Eddie’s room with your fuzzy slippers you don’t bother on knocking before you look for the plug to his cassette player, unhooking it from the outlet and pointing the knife in his direction, you all but scream in his face, “I almost cut my fucking finger off! Turn it down or I’ll cut the goddamn cord!”

He’s sitting crossed legged on the floor, cassettes littering his lap, his eyes almost bored, “aww Tooty I’ll play with you in a little bit, daddy just has to get some things done first, ‘kay?”

You roll your eyes in disgust, did he seriously just refer to himself as ‘daddy’?

“God you are foul,” you retort, throwing the cord down onto the carpet and placing the knife on a nearby box, “wouldn’t surprise me if you were a dad.”

Eddie throws his head back with a chuckle, “why? You into dad bods? Listen sweetheart, my metabolism will slow down eventually, gimme three—four years max and I’ll be all gut.” He flashes his pearly whites towards you and winks.

Ignoring him completely, your nose scrunches. “Stop calling me that!” your heart is pounding in your chest fury on high, “what the hell is that?”

“That,” Eddie says batting his eyelashes, “would be my masculinity wafting from my aura to yours, why does it turn you on?”

You fold your arms over your chest, and shift your slippered feet beneath you, “Do you have a certain amount of disgusting phrases you have to get out throughout the day or are you just naturally this nauseating to be around?”

“No idea, anyway,” Eddie continues, standing to his full height and shucking off his jacket and tossing it to the ground, “I’m gonna order a pizza you want in?”

“Maybe you should finish unpacking,” you say taking a quick glance around the clothes strewn everywhere around the room, “it’s a fucking mess in here.”

Eddie leans in close eyes ghosting over your features as they gawk over your lips, “well, sweetheart, maybe if you had given me the bigger room— like I had asked for— I would have enough space to put my stuff, besides,” he says, standing up and leaning backwards to crack his back, a small trail of hair peeking out from his waistband makes your breath hitch in your throat, “I bought dressers and they’ll be delivered on Monday, so my clothes don’t have a place to go right now, unless you wanna split your closet?”

“I’d rather drop dead.”

“Aww don’t do that, far too pretty to be dead, and what would the neighbors think?” He strips off his shirt and throws it in the corner of his room, your eyes dart away but not before catching a glimpse of his pale skin.

The small tattoos he had in high school are slightly faded with time, new ones are inked down his arms, across his chest and down his side. You can’t help but notice the silver hoops pierced through his nipples as they reflect light and draw you in towards his chest. He’s lean but built, no defining abs but the muscles in his arms could be carved from a sculptor, replicating a greek statue. Surely minutes have gone by but in reality it has only been seconds, you don’t even realize he’s still talking.

“…don’t need to give the cops more of a reason to watch me more than they already do.” He drops his eyes to your face, seeing you peek at his body. A grin is plastered to his lips as they curve upwards, he stretches his arms out wide, the veins in his arms protruding further out, oh what you’d give to just touch it with your hands, your tongue— wait what?—“Shit,” he says, drifting forward, your body pulling away from him, “looks like you aren’t into dad bods after all.”

Your cheeks flare red as you stomp out of his room, his joker laugh vibrates the walls as you slam your door. Throwing yourself on the smooth purple cotton of your comforter, and screaming into your pillow.

Nobody ever got under your skin the way he is. Why are you allowing him to frustrate you this much? He’s a boob. A pimple on your ass. That annoying twitch that your eye sometimes does when you don't have enough sleep. Yes, the festering wound, the bad rash that kept coming back, the burn in your belly, the thorn in your side— is now your roommate. Fuck.

A knock on your bedroom door, brings you back to your current state of throwing a hissy fit. You launch your cup of pens that adorns your nightstand at the door.

“Does that mean you don’t like pineapple on your pizza?”

-

Thank God you showered before Eddie started unloading his stuff, because he has been in the bathroom for at least a half hour. You’re sitting on the couch, the same rough, itchy upholstery that used to take up way too much space in the Wheeler’s basement. But a $20 bill and Nancy promising her dad that she would mow the lawn for the entire summer of ‘91, and it was now yours. Karen would sigh with relief that the ugly furniture was leaving, meaning her living room would get an upgrade as their now living room furniture would find solace in the basement. No longer stinking of cheesy pizza farts and bad B.O., or screaming threats from middle school boys about the inner demons of DnD, Mrs. Wheeler would come to miss the yelling, and the rotten stench of boys running amuck in her house. Nancy parted with the under stuffed, well loved, hideous piece of furniture when she moved in with Jonathan. So now, the outdated, wagon wheel patterned couch, was all yours.

The smell of finger nail polish fills the living room as you attempt at painting your toenails a shimmery blue that you had gotten at the mall with Robin. A fuzzy navel wine cooler tucked between your legs, you’re trying hard to get it finished before a new episode of “The Nanny” comes on. Eddie is singing in the shower, loudly. You recognize the tune as “Come As You Are” by Nirvana. Not that you were admiring the way his voice sounded. You were just surprised that a twenty six year old weirdo actually knew good music. The doorbell rings, snapping you out of, yet again, another strange spiral of thinking about Eddie Munson.

“Eddie!” You holler from the living room, “door.”

“Money’s in my wallet, just pay the dude quick and I’ll be out in a minute.” He yells back from the shower.

“Eddie, I’m busy— get the fuck out here and do it yourself.” There is no way you are walking around with wet toenails, what the hell was he thinking?

“I’m in the middle of washing my ba— “

“Alright! Fine!” You walk on your heels to the door, opening it quick to find a Hawkins High student in a red hat with the pizza logo on it.

“That’ll be $19.50,” he says with a less than enthused remark.

“Hang on,” walking back to the bathroom on heeled feet you knock on the door, “where’s your wallet?” you ask in a hurry through the door.

“Uh, my jeans I think,” Eddie yells back. You cross into Eddie’s room, looking around the mess he made, realizing the only thing he managed to make an attempt at organizing was his never ending cassettes, a few records, and an old record player. Posters decorated every wall. Metallica, Nirvana, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, and White Zombie. The clothes were piled high in a mountain of leather, flannel and white cotton socks. Not a single pair of jeans that you could see. His bed sat on the ground, cluttered with notebook papers, dice, and tightly rolled joints.

“Eddie!” You yell from his room, “where the hell are your jeans?”

A chuckle echoes in the bathroom, muffled slightly by the spray of the shower head, “they’re in here, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with smugness and sweet notes of laughter.

Fuck it, we don’t need pizza. I can eat cereal. I’ll just tell the pizza kid to leave and Eddie can fend for himself. Fuck this.

“Tooty?” He calls from the shower, enunciating every syllable. “Come on,” he sings, laughing to himself, “I promise I’ll stay behind the curtain. You won’t see a thing— unless of course— you want to.”

You barge through the door, fumbling through Eddie’s jeans pockets, finding the black leather of his chain wallet and yanking out $25. An idea crosses your mind and you can’t help but go through with it. A flick of the lights had Eddie cursing every word imaginable as he was cast into darkness.

Thrusting cash into pimple head’s hand and shutting the door, you walk into the kitchen to get some plates. Eddie emerges from the bathroom. His hair is dripping in long strands, and your robe is wrapped right around his body, barely covering his southern region. The pink terry cloth material lined with lace looking absolutely ridiculous on his tattoo covered body.

Oh— this mother fucker.

“Are you seriously wearing my robe?” You ask, hands on your hips, nails digging into the cotton pajama shorts you’re wearing.

Eddie does a spin and swings his hips in a circular motion, his dick swinging like a helicopter.

“Well sweetheart, when you so rudely turned the lights off on me, I was forced to find the first thing I could to dry off with, and besides— you can’t deny how good I look,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows, smiling the widest smile you had ever seen from him.

A lump of anger and sheer rage catches in your throat, “you’re repulsive,” you say, turning away from him and tossing pizza onto plates.

“And you,” Eddie says sliding beside you, his breath fanning your cheek, the cold drops of water from his curls pressing into your shoulder as he grabs a greasy slice of pizza straight from the box, “are extremely uptight.” The whites of his teeth bite into the cheesy triangle and chew loudly as he smacks his lips, licking the orange grease from his lips.

Anger boils in your belly, filling your veins with agitation so thick they’re bound to clog up. “I. Am. Not. Uptight,” you seethe through clenched teeth, and closed eyes.

“Yeah, sure sure,” Eddie says, mouth full of pizza, and his eyebrows raised, “whatever you say.”

You weren’t always this high strung. But having everything ripped away from you, would make anyone pretty goddamn bitter to the lemonade life had to offer.

vol ii

volume ii

A/N: thank you to everyone for reading this and continuing to support my crazy ideas. Thank you to everyone I had beta this story—@agentmarvel @pinkrelish + @sweetsweetjellybean you all push me to be a better writer and I am forever grateful for that ♥️♥️🖤💋

Taglist: @luna-munson83 @tlclick73 @idkidknemore @joejoequinnquinn @newlips (omg, they were roommates)

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your Area ch 4 progress

(read other sections of this and more stories here)

Danny floated miserably through the stacks, pulling out books that looked remotely plausible. Maybe he needed help. Jazz would help him without laughing at him, right?

Sam and Tucker absolutely would not. They would think it was hilarious that he had so little game that the universe assigned him a boyfriend via Jeremy Waters. 

‘As if I could pull a guy who looks like that,’ Danny thought wryly, and then felt a little bad about himself in comparison. Jason was, uhhhh, physically blessed. He was tall and well proportioned and his hands- Danny fought down a shiver and resisted the urge to steal another look. Jason was out of sight anyway.

Well. He still hadn't seen Jason's face. Maybe he was ugly! You never know. Or maybe under the helmet it was totally smooth, no face. That would be neat. Danny paused mid motion to imagine that.

Haha. Sick, man.

That concept cheered him up a little as he grimly opened the first book and started skimming for likely words like marriage, spouse, and concubine. 

He didn’t bother reading anything in detail. He stuck a post it note on each page with a relevant term and then put the book in a pile to take back to his dorm. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day.

Ah, shit. Danny paused. This wasn’t going to get solved in a day. He bit his lip and looked off in the direction where Jason had disappeared to do his own research.

He truly didn’t have time to devote to this right now. He was not willing to drop his school life in order to solve a sudden problem. Jason was just going to have to cope with whatever timeline Danny could manage without setting his life on fire.

On the other hand, Jason was a human guy who probably had a life of his own at the biker bar/fight club. Whatever the hell required that kind of outfit probably kept him busy! So Danny couldn’t like, just leave him in the castle to chill.

“Not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be able to live here very long anyways,” Danny muttered to himself.

That was troubling him. Frankly, Jason should have been intolerably uncomfortable in the ghost zone for this long without specialized protective equipment. It wasn’t meant for humans.

‘What did Jeremy do to this guy?’

Yikes. Did this mean… Did this mean Danny should have given that little cult thing more credit? But Jeremy was just such a doofus. He grimaced. Embarrassing. Why were his enemies so embarrassing? This shit didn’t happen to, like, Wonder Woman.

Danny buried himself back in the books to avoid the growing suspicion that Jason might have been uhhhh magically altered to make him an appropriate concubine to a dead king. That thought sucked! He didn’t like it. He really didn’t like the idea of bringing it up with Jason.

When he had what he thought was a good first round of research, Danny shelved the books he’d gotten out and went to find where his …

He whole-body flinched at the point where he needed to plug an appropriate noun into that sentence. 

“Jason?” Danny called, juggling books into a stack. “I think we should probably get you back to the re- the human world. Before something inexorable happens.”

A pause.

“I don’t think you know what that word means,” Jason said. A book shut. Danny headed towards the sound, phasing through shelves effortlessly. A spark of curiosity lit up at Jason’s voice. He sounded relaxed, even through the helmet’s filter. 

‘I want to hear his real voice. Bet it’s nice.’

Wait. What? Danny shook the thought away, discomforted. He plastered a wide grin on his face. “I don’t know any words,” he lied breezily. “I’m just ad libbing. Anyway!” He flopped dramatically down onto the big chair next to Jason’s, making sure to be extra physical to get a satisfying whumpf. “We really should go! I can get you to the human world, but, uh, I can’t promise to put you back where you came from.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I think this is going to be a more than one day affair.”

Jason was watching him. There was nothing visible through his helmet, but Danny got the sense that he was tense, waiting for a threat. 

Which, what? Why would Jason feel threatened by-

Oh. Danny felt a knot in his stomach. Right. That made a lot of sense. He felt kinda sick. 

He didn’t let the feeling show through and barreled on speaking. “I don’t exactly have an easy way for you to contact me, but we probably need to stay in touch to fix this. Do you have any ideas?” 

The lie felt kind of gross. But he could hardly tell the guy; “I’m an engineering student in Gotham, you can just call my cell or come to the dorms.”

Jason seemed to relax at the cessation of control. “If you can stick around, yeah. I’ll get you a burner phone, exchange numbers. You’re not going to…” He trailed off. Danny felt a frown somehow. “You won’t have any signal here, actually. That won’t work.”

“I can make it work,” Danny assured him, hands up. “I mean, I can’t make it work here, or I would have offered to help with your tech. But I can pop in and out of the human world and check my messages.”

“That’ll work.” Jason’s helmet turned ever so slightly. “About the books…”

“You found something good?” Danny asked, impressed. “Yeah, awesome. Just be really careful with them, the librarian is a scary guy.”

Jason’s hand flexed over the closed book on his thigh. “I can take- how many can I take out?”

Danny scoffed. “I’m not your dad,” he said. “Whatever you can carry, man. You ready to go or do you need a minute?” He flipped back to his feet with a grunt. 

[carakook]

Shut Up .・。.・゜✭・.

╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

“If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

🔞FOR MATURE AUDIENCES🔞

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Synopsis: After taking a job as a co-writer, you quickly find that you and your “boss” just don’t get along. Constantly butting heads, disagreeing on things, and he isn’t even nice about it. He’s a fucking dick. He’s always criticizing you in embarrassing ways, but you’ve tried to be patient, ride it out. Over the short time you’ve worked here, the tension has built quickly, and it is clear both of you cannot stand each other. Unfortunately, today is the day you reach your limit after he humiliates you in front of several of your coworkers… and the “conflict resolution” is definitely something you did not expect.

Genre: Enemies to lovers (or hookup in this case), workplace affair.

Pairings: Boss/Writer!Namjoon x Co-writer!Reader

Word count: 7.5k+

Warnings: 18+, Heavy smut!! Hate sex, protected sex (wrap it up), rough sex, face fucking, light slapping (not in the face), a bit of spit play, face fucking, cussing, crying (sort of), heavy conflict, degradation, arguing, name calling, a bit of teasing, cum eating? (Sort of), dry humping, face humping, being slapped with dick (lightly), Let me know if I missed anything!

⚠Disclaimer⚠:This story does not in any way reflect the character of those who are mentioned, it is totally fiction and just for fun. Please don’t take it seriously.

A/N: Hiiii! This is my first one shot. I’ve actually had it in my drafts for a long time but never posted it, I decided to finish it recently and post it here. I hope you like it! I love writing, have soooo many drafted one shots/full on fanfics with each of the boys. A looot of them are with Jungkook, can’t help myself. He’s my lover… 😭 Anyway, if you guys end up liking this I’ll post more. Thank you so much for reading if you do!

╚═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╝

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

There aren’t many things you regret in life. Because if you allow yourself to regret things, you overthink. Overthinking is never a good thing.

See, it wasn’t awful at first. But the moment you met Kim Namjoon, you could tell he had a problem with you. What? You didn’t know. You still don’t know. But he never bothered hiding it.

You powered through, because this was sort of like a dream job for you. You loved writing music, writing lyrics. It was hard to even find a job like this to begin with. So when you got the callback, you jumped at the chance. You were so excited to be working here, and you were familiar with Kim Namjoon. You thought his songs were beautiful, his writing style seemed similar to yours.

Boy, you were wrong.

Not even a week into working here he was heavily criticizing you. But again… you pushed through. Because you were new, he had a right to be picky. This was his studio, he was technically your boss… technically. So you tried to be patient and listen to his criticism.

Which didn’t last long. Because he was not subtle. Arguably, there is a difference between constructive criticism and being blatantly rude and picky. Namjoon was straight-up rude. And at times it was embarrassing.

Nothing you did seemed to satisfy him. Every single time you brainstormed with him and the team, he disagreed with you. Every time you proposed lyrics, he rejected your ideas. Every time you so as much opened your mouth, he had an issue with what you had to say.

You tried to be patient… you genuinely did. But you don’t like feeling disrespected or embarrassed. And you certainly don’t take shit from anyone. So the last two weeks you’ve both been bickering, and the tension is noticeable not only to you and Namjoon but to the entire damn team.

The worst part about it all? You are so fucking attracted to him. He makes your tummy swoop with butterflies. He smells good. He’s tall, his dimples are fucking adorable, and his body… god, he is to die for. The sexual tension is prominent.

If only he wasn’t such a dick.

Today pushed you to your limits. Never in your life have you been more embarrassed.

It all started with a song he was working on. He played the beat, and immediately you were inspired. You got excited. Your attitude was bright, and you immediately jotted the lyrics down on your paper when they came to mind. You seriously thought today would be the day he’d be proud. He would agree. You felt good about it.

Only for him to burst out laughing when he read the lyrics. That wasn’t even the worst part. It’s bad enough that he laughed at you in front of the entire team. But what he said next is what made you lose your shit.

“Oh- shit. You’re serious?”

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your very irritated expression. And then he fucking laughed again.

“Fuck, Y/N. I thought this was a joke. God, I wish it was a joke because it would be hilarious if it was. It sounds like a fucking kids-bop song. You can’t be serious.”

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

You went off on him. In front of everyone. For three minutes straight you cursed him out, waived your hands around, and made it clear how much you cannot stand him and how rude he has been. How humiliated you feel. You’ve always been praised for your writing, so why the fuck doesn’t he like it? You are fucking pissed.

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to cuss your boss out in front of everyone… but at this point, you don’t care. If he gets you fired by the company, oh-fucking-well.

Namjoon stares at you for a moment once you’re done. Your chest is heaving, your cheeks are red, and your brows are furrowed angrily. Clearly, he didn’t expect your outburst. His nostrils are flared and his jaw is tense, it even does the little tick thing that drives you crazy. Fuck him for being so hot. Fuck him for being so damn hot and such a dick.

He raises a brow at you, tongue in cheek, making that angry face that would be incredibly attractive if it weren’t directed at you. He lets out an angry huff of air before speaking.

“Studio. Now.”

He points at his studio as he says this as if you’re too stupid to understand his words. This pisses you off even more.

“You’re not my fucking boss.”

He scoffs at you, briefly smiling at your bold choice of words. You infuriate him just as much as he infuriates you.

“Actually, Y/N, I am. Studio. Now.”

You know that technically, he is your boss. But you refuse to listen to him after how humiliated he made you feel. In front of everyone, how dare he speak to you this way? Regardless of his weird hate for you. Besides, he can’t fire you. He may be able to request it, but you know that he won’t. From what you’ve heard, It took forever to fill this position. He was picky when it came to hiring someone… which makes this more confusing. You can’t figure out what his issue is with you, especially when he is the one who helped pick you for the job. Regardless, you know that he doesn’t have the patience to do it again. He’s full of shit.

You stand your ground. You won’t back down this time. You’re tired of the disrespect.

“No, Namjoon. Whatever you want to say, you can say it here. You’ve already embarrassed me, so go ahead, do it some more. I’m sure you get off on it.”

No longer smiling, his gaze is dark. He’s pissed. Now he’s a bit embarrassed… that’s what he gets.

“I won’t ask again. You can march your ass upstairs, or I can carry you. Your choice.”

You say nothing, surely he wouldn’t do that. He’s bluffing. Regardless of how harsh he has been towards you, you know that he wouldn’t cross that line. You hope that he doesn’t. The last thing that you want is for him to touch you. Not because he makes you uncomfortable, but because you already have enough dirty thoughts about him. You hate him, yet he turns you on in a way you’ve never felt. Lust driven by pure hatred, it’s a dangerous thing.

But of course, you were wrong, and he never ceases to surprise you. Never underestimate Kim Namjoon.

You stay silent, secretly hoping that he will just back down and continue the brainstorming session. But is Kim Namjoon the type of man to back down? No. He never has been.

He strides over to you quickly, taking big steps in your direction, causing you to miss your chance to run.

He swiftly grabs your waist and hoists you over his shoulder, his fingers digging into your thighs. You don’t even have time to react before he starts carrying you upstairs to the studio. He has no trouble doing so either, carrying you as if you weigh nothing.

You come to your senses and swat at his back while you yell profanities at him, demanding that he put you down, threatening to report him, and telling him that he’ll be fired by morning if he doesn’t stop.

But you know that he won’t. This company would never side with you, no matter what Namjoon did. They relied on him. They didn’t rely on you. You were replaceable, even if it would be difficult. Namjoon is not replaceable.

“Resume the session. If you finish before we’re done, you’re free to go. This may take a while. Don’t interrupt us.”

Hurried nods are sent in his direction, no one dares protest him or intervene. Cowards.

He kicks the door open to the studio, entering with ease, making sure not to hit your head on the doorframe as he walks in. You wish he would have hit your head, knocked you out, hell even thrown you over the staircase. Anything to avoid this humiliation he has cursed you with. You almost wish you would’ve just kept your damn mouth shut.

But the damage is done now. No point in backing down.

He throws you roughly on the couch sitting opposite his desk and then closes the door, locking it before facing you.

You glare at him, chest heaving, heart beating out of your chest. You’re just as pissed as he is. Yet, you still find yourself clenching your thighs together, irritated at the fact that he turns you on so much. You shouldn’t be horny right now… yet you are. The way he squeezed your thighs… fuck. Fuck him. God, fuck him to hell. You hate him.

“What the fuck was that?” You nearly growl at him.

He stands in front of you, arms crossed, looking down on you as if you’re nothing more than a pesky roach that he wants to squash.

“I told you, you could walk, or I could carry you. You made your choice, clearly.”

Fuck him.

“Fuck you, Namjoon. This is ridiculous.”

He laughs. He laughs at you.

Fuck him.

“You are ridiculous, Y/N. Why are you even here, if you can’t take criticism?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I can take criticism, constructive criticism, something that you are apparently incapable of giving. You’re so fucking mean to me and I’ve done NOTHING to you.”

“No, I-“

You cut him off, unable to control your mouth.

“And another thing, it’s only me that you speak to this way. I’ve yet to see you speak to anyone else the way that you do me. What is your issue with me, why do you hate me so much?”

“Maybe if you-“

You cut him off again, and his jaw does the tick thing. He’s getting angrier, but you do not give a fuck.

“No, this isn’t on me. I earned my spot here, I was hired for a reason, and everyone else respects me, why don’t you?”

“Because-“

Again.

Fuck him.

“There is no reason, you obviously have some sort of sick vendetta against me. You’re fucking insufferable!”

“Me? No, you-“

Again.

And he’s had enough.

“No, fuck you Namjoon, fuck you and this weird ass game you’re playing, you—“

He borderline growls before he pins you on the couch.

You don’t even have time to register what he’s doing, and if you did, you’d slap the shit out of him.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

His lips crash into yours as he hovers over you, one knee perched in between your legs, while his other leg steadies him. He grabs your face with force, so rough that you swear he could break your jaw if he gripped you any harder. His other hand is on the back of the couch, steadying him the same and pinning you in place.

The kiss is no different. His lips assault yours, and he wastes no time in forcing his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you with vigor. A kiss unlike any you’ve ever experienced before. You’ve only ever been kissed like this in your dreams, the same dreams that wake you up in the middle of the night leaving you touch-starved. It’s fucking aggressive and rough.

And of course, you kiss him back. You don’t want to. Yet you do. You don’t want to give in to him. But you do. You can’t help it. As soon as he made his move, you were under his control. He has that way about him, he’s easily able to affect people. You were a different story. You always defied him, disagreed with him, challenged him. Yet, this is the way that he tames you, even if only for a minute. Shit. You’re weaker than you thought.

He nips your bottom lip before pulling back, your jaw still in his grip. His nostrils are flared and his breathing is rigid, as if he’s just as shocked as you are at his actions.

And he is. He has no idea why he just kissed you. He has no idea what came over him. He just wanted you to shut the fuck up, and he acted on impulse. And now he has a raging hard-on, which pisses him off even more. He doesn’t want to want you, in the same way that you don’t want to want him. But you both do.

He whispers, searching your face, studying your reaction.

“Do you ever just shut the fuck up and listen?”

You clear your throat, still trying to come down from the rush of the kiss, adrenaline running through your veins.

“I-“

“Do you know how fucking irritated you make me?”

Suddenly, you have no fight left in you. You feel intimidated. Fuck him.

“Then why-“

“Am I gonna have to kiss you every time you need to shut the fuck up?”

You blink at him, unable to respond. You have no idea what to do, or how to react, and are becoming distracted by the puddle seeping between your thighs.

You haven’t had sex in over a year. You haven’t been able to grow interest in someone enough to give them that piece of yourself again. Your last situation-ship left you simply sick of men. Sex wasn’t appealing enough to go through that again. But, of course, as if the universe is punishing you, Namjoon awakens your sex drive.

You nervously bite your lip and clench your thighs, not even realizing what you’re doing. You’re on the verge of tears, overwhelmed with anger and lust. And this doesn’t go unnoticed by Namjoon.

He looks down at your thighs, and you immediately unclench them. Your cheeks betray you by reddening, thanks to the smirk that very clearly gives away that he knows exactly what you’re feeling right now.

He keeps his eyes on your thighs for a moment before looking up at you. He smirks, raising a brow, giving you a crooked smile that tells you he knows your dirty little secret. Your jaw is still firmly in his grasp.

“Is that it? You’re sexually frustrated? Is that why you’re being such a bitch?”

You try to wriggle from his grasp, embarrassed, angry, horny. You’re starting to wish he would just fire you. Anything to save you the embarrassment of his knowing glare.

“Fuck you.”

He chuckles, bringing his face closer to yours, so close that you can feel his breath touch your lips.

“Yeah? Fuck me? If I fuck you, will you calm the fuck down and listen to me?”

You blink at him again and say nothing. You want to protest, tell him how gross he is, tell him how much you hate him, tell him that he’s the worst. Yet, his idea just makes you hornier. You’ve never had hate sex, and oh fuck, you’re sure that it would improve your mood, even some of the tension between you two.

But it pains you to even admit that. It’s humiliating. He has humiliated you enough.

He moves his hand to the back of your head, angling it upwards so that he has better access to your neck. He places his lips on your jaw, running his teeth up it, leading to the crook of your neck, keeping his lips on you as he speaks his next words.

He grabs your wrist with his other hand, leading it to his crotch, coaxing you to feel him. And he’s hard. So hard that you’re certain a button will break on his jeans. Fuck. He feels giant… You’re so fucked.

“Do you see what you do to me? Never in my life have I had anyone piss me off to the point of getting a fucking boner.”

You can’t help but whimper at his dirty words, but you make sure to bite your lip, preventing yourself from begging him to take you as you so desperately want to. You aren’t one to beg for anything. And you hate him even more for bringing you to that point.

“I’ve thought about fucking you so many times, Y/N. Fucking you to the point that you don’t even remember your own name, and my name is the only thing that you can scream. I just wanna fuck you until you shut the fuck up.”

“Please, just… do it then.”

Word vomit. You thought it but didn’t intend to say it. Yet, you said it. Of course, you did. You’re on the brink of cumming just from his filthy words.

He kisses your neck before speaking. And you can feel him smile as he does so.

Fuck him.

“Oh, Y/N, baby, hearing you beg makes it so tempting. I never thought you’d be the type, considering the amount of shit you talk.”

You croak out, suddenly feeling defensive, “I’m not. I don’t beg for shit.” You weakly push at his chest, even though you both know damn well you don’t want him to stop.

He laughs, pulling back to look at you, keeping his face close.

“Yet, here you are, begging for my cock like a desperate whore.”

You frown at him, feigning offense, when in reality his degradation is making you even more desperate. Why? You don’t know. You’ve never liked being degraded, in fact, nothing turns you off more than being called names… but hearing it come out of Namjoon's mouth? Fuck.

“I’m not a whore.” You whisper.

He tilts his head at you, amused.

“Fucking obviously, you’re acting like you’ve never been touched before. Are you this needy with other men?”

“There are no other men.”

He studies you for a moment, carefully calculating his next move. The way that he looks at you makes you feel insecure, as if he’s a judge on one of those cooking shows, trying to figure out whether he likes the taste of you or not. You have the urge to push him away and take off, his gaze is too goddamn intense.

He is too intense. Never met a man like him.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You mumble, looking away from him.

“Like what?” He asks, furrowing his brows. Amused.

“Like you think I’m the most vile thing on earth.”

He’s taken aback by your response, almost looking offended. Because that is the last thing he was thinking. If only you knew.

“Vile? Baby, I’m so hard for you right now that it hurts, do you know how hot you are when you’re pissed? Fucking annoying, but soooo hot.”

You squirm, your cheeks pinking again. You didn’t expect that. You expected him to laugh in your face and agree. He grunts as he takes in your facial expression. If only you knew what you truthfully do to him. He closes his eyes and scrunches his brows, taking a deep breath before he pulls away from you, leaving you considering getting on your damn knees and begging for him to touch you again.

He chuckles while shaking his head, eyes still closed as he speaks. As if he’s in pain from pulling away from you.

“Yeah, fuck, and you’re cute when you blush. This is fucked. I can’t stand you, yet you’re so fucking cute. What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?”

Fuck. He’s making this hard. You’re so overwhelmed. So pissed, so horny, you wanna push him away and cuss him out some more, but also you’ve never wanted another man more in your life than you do him right now.

Both of you stare at each other silently for a moment. His jaw keeps doing the tick thing, and you squeeze your thighs tighter, rubbing them together to relieve some pressure. His eyes flick to them, and you don’t even bother hiding it this time. As humiliating as it is, his cock is hard and bulging out of his jeans. So you can’t find yourself caring too much at the moment.

What really makes his resolve waver is the way you’re looking at him, which you don’t even realize. Normally you look at him with such disdain, as if he’s the vile one. But right now? Your eyes are wide and glossy, your lip stuck between your teeth. You’re looking at him almost sweetly. The desperation in your gaze is impossible to hide.

He loses it completely.

“Ah, fuck it.” He declares before grabbing you by your hair again as he sits on the couch. He tugs you roughly into his lap and starts devouring your mouth again.

You let out a little huff of air as he does this, not quite used to the rough handling. But god, it’s fucking divine. You feel as if all of the anger you’ve held for him comes rushing out in the form of kisses and touches. He feels the same.

His hand leaves your hair and he grips your hips, roughly grinding his hard cock onto your pussy. Dry humping like fucking teenagers as you make out aggressively.

Your hands come to rest on his face, framing it as they tremble slightly from the overwhelming emotions. You don’t hold back this time either, licking into his mouth wantonly, letting out little grunts and mewls that make his cock strain and twitch inside of his jeans.

His hands leave your hips to grip your ass, and he fucking groans into your mouth. He slaps it once, testing. When you let out a whine, he slaps it much harder this time, making your body jerk slightly.

He laughs into your mouth and says breathily, “Fuck, you really are a whore aren’t you?”

You bite his lip hard when he says this. You hate it. You love it. You grind down harder onto his clothed cock. He reaches back up to grip your hair and tugs your head back, pulling on it harshly and pulling you away from his mouth.

He grins when he hears you whine at the loss of his lips. “You wanna fucking bite me, huh? Uh-uh, fuck no you don’t.”

He pushes you off of his lap and lets go of your hair, you look up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and confusion. Honestly, you already look fucked out and he’s barely done anything. You’re just touch-starved, so every little kiss and touch is fucking you up. You’re craving relief from both your sexual frustration and the building irritation he’s caused you over the last month.

Before you even realize what he’s about to do, he grabs your hair again, his grip much firmer this time. It actually kind of hurts… yet you don’t stop him. He pushes your face roughly into his clothed cock, and grinds onto your face as he spreads his legs wider on the couch.

Oh fuck.

He grunts as he starts nearly smothering you. When he feels a bit of your drool gets onto his crotch, he yanks your head back, he laughs again, “Bet your big fucking mouth is great at sucking cock. Should we find out?”

You just glare at him. Don’t wanna give him the satisfaction even though every single thing he has done so far has made you borderline cream your pants.

He clicks his tongue, “No? Don’t have anything to say now? Isn’t that funny…”

Fuck him.

He keeps his grip tight on your hair as he uses his other hand to fumble with his zipper and button. Once it’s undone, he whips his cock out. It hits the fabric of his rumpled shirt and is already dripping precum.

Holy. Fuck. His cock is huge. A good nine inches.

He yanks your head forward again, literally smearing your face all over it, humping your face again. His head falls back and he grunts at the feeling. Your skin is just so soft, and the way your makeup is already becoming fucked up is making him go crazy. He’s always loved sloppy sex. And you are fucking gorgeous like this, he thinks.

He grabs his cock with his free hand as he tilts your head back, starts slapping your mouth with it, your cheeks too. The precum starts stringing from your cheek to the tip of his cock, and you can see his pupils dilate even bigger, he almost looks like he’s about to lose control.

He says uncharacteristically softly, “If you want me to stop, pinch my thigh real hard, yeah?”

If you had even a single moment of free thought, you would’ve probably been thankful that he gave you an out. You know despite him being a huge piece of work, he’s not a bad guy. So the fact he’s setting boundaries in your favor, even in the heat of the moment, is comforting. He cares about your safety and comfort. It’s the bare minimum of course, but most men lack even that. It’s why you stopped having casual sex to begin with.

But you don’t have a moment to think because pushes your lips down onto his cock abruptly, your mouth opens on instinct and he shoves himself inside. Doesn’t even ease into it, he just straight up plows his cock inside of your mouth until your nose is pressed against his pelvis.

You cough, and gag, already drooling all over him. Fuck it’s hot. You’ve never been face fucked like this before, but you’re starting to think maybe you’ve been missing out on good sex if this is how good rough sex feels.

You can’t even imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you if it feels this good in your mouth.

When he sees tears start to form, he pulls your hair back, strings of spit and precum connecting from your mouth and onto the tip of his cock. Fuck, it felt so good feeling your throat constrict around his cock. His resolve is wavering heavily. But he’s trying to remain patient. He smirks at you, stroking his spit-covered cock lazily directly onto your lips, causing beads of precum to escape his tip and cover your lips like lipgloss.

“Fuck, look at you. And you haven’t said a damn word. So pretty when you shut up.”

Your cheeks flush and you say petulantly, “Fuck you.” Because even now you don’t wanna give him the satisfaction.

That’s short-lived though because he starts fucking your mouth again. He shoves his cock inside and starts thrusting into your mouth as if it’s a goddamn sex toy. He hits the back of your throat with every thrust, causing you to gag and cough, your hands squeezing his thighs hard but not pinching.

You can take it.

He grunts out, “Fuck… I swear to god I’ll fuck your pretty little mouth every goddamn time you mouth off from now on Y/N, since nothing else has worked so far.”

Each word punctuated by a harsh thrust, he grunts our, “Just shut. the. fuck. up. Fuuuck.”

He keeps fucking up into your mouth, not easing up even for a second. Your eyes roll back in your head, and all you can do is take it. His thrusts only become sloppier and wetter. His head is thrown back and his abdomen starts clenching hard. But he knows you need to breathe. As much as he wishes he could just cum down your throat; he has other plans…

He pulls your head back again, he’s already feeling a bit too close to cumming. He doesn’t wanna cum too fast, he’s certain it would give you more to talk shit about.

He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his mouth parted slightly and his breaths coming in fast. You look utterly fucked. Your makeup is ruined completely now, your eyes are red and teary, and your pretty pink lips are swollen. His stomach flutters, because he thinks you have never looked prettier.

He’s always thought you were so pretty. It’s one of the reasons he can’t stand you. He isn’t supposed to want you. You’re his coworker, technically his subordinate.

But none of that matters now, does it?

He doesn’t look much better, his shirt is covered in wet spit and his boxers are ruined too. He should’ve taken his clothes off… but luckily, he thinks it’s so much hotter this way.

His cock twitches against his belly, and he strokes your cheek with his free hand. He murmurs, “You good?”

You nod stupidly at him even as drool dribbles down your chin and your mascara runs onto your cheeks. There’s nothing to say really. You’ve never enjoyed having a dick down your throat so much. And he has effectively shut you up.

He nods and guides your head up, kisses you deeply. His eyes roll back as he tastes his precum on your tongue. So fucking good, he thinks.

He guides your pliant body to lay down on the couch, and then he settles in between your legs, his hands stroking up and down your thighs as he looks you over. God, there is so much he wants to do to you. He wants to use you but also wants to make you come undone as many times as possible.

Maybe then you’ll be more tolerable. Maybe this is what you both need, he rationalizes.

But he’s getting impatient. His cock is standing tall as he looks down at you, visibly pulsating, jerking upward now and then. And fuck, it’s making you impatient too. So much so that you whine at him, “Fuck, stop looking and just do something.”

His jaw ticks. He’s getting irritated. That’s what you think, anyway. But in reality, he’s preening on the fact you’re just as impatient as he is. It gives him an excuse to cut the foreplay and fuck you stupid.

You want him to do something? Oh, he will.

He lets out an almost mocking laugh, “Yeah? Want me to do something about it? You sure?”

You groan and roll your eyes at him, scooting your ass closer to his pelvis on the couch, his cock dripping so much precum, you have no idea how he’s not losing his mind right now. You certainly are. In fact, he’s starting to piss you off again.

Right as you’re about to talk shit, he can immediately tell. He grabs the front of your button-up and he rips it open. Doesn’t unbutton it like a normal person, but fucking rips it open, sending buttons flying on the floor of the studio. You let out a grunt, and blink at him in surprise with your mouth open.

You liked that shirt. Fuck him.

“Fucking seriously? You’re ruining my clothes now?”

Your patience is almost nonexistent at this point. You have drool and precum drying on your chin, you’re so horny it hurts, and he just ripped your shirt open like a wild fucking animal.

But him? It’s like he’s not even paying attention. His eyes are averted downward, tongue flicking over his lips. He looks almost stupid like this. What the fuck?

You look down to see what he’s gawking at, and… Oh. Oh. Kinda slipped your mind that you aren’t wearing a bra today. You were running late this morning and forgot to throw one on. Oops.

Namjoon doesn’t even look at your face at this point. His eyes are glued to your tits. He feels kind of ridiculous, getting this worked up over tits. He’s seen tits many times, it’s nothing new. But something about yours has him salivating, has his cock jerking upward.

He reaches down and starts lightly slapping the sides of your tits, watching them jiggle with a gaze full of hunger, he rasps out, “Not the only thing I’m gonna be ruining.”

One hand remains playing with your tits like they’re fucking stress balls, and Namjoon would argue that they absolutely are. The other hand reaches down and lifts your skirt, causing it to pool around your waist. He looks down a bit further, begrudgingly tearing his eyes away from your perfect tits, his other hand pushing your ruined panties to the side. He groans, nearly growls when he notices how wet you are. Fuck. He’s so close to losing control.

He dips a single finger into your sopping heat, just barely. Moves the creamy juices around before pushing his finger fully inside, squeezing your tit hard in his other hand. Your hips buck up involuntarily and your head falls back against the couch. You fucking hate yourself for the desperate noise that claws out of your throat.

Namjoon is no better, the moment he feels how wet you truly are, he lets a sound that sounds no better than the one you just let out. His breathing picks up, his heart starts beating faster, and his cock is so hard at this point that it’s actually painful. God, you are just so tight. Your pussy is clenching around his finger as if it’s trying to swallow him whole.

“N-Namjoon— please. Fuck. Please.” You beg again, don’t even care how pathetic you sound. A single fucking finger isn’t enough for how badly you want him right now. Want to be filled up and fucked hard. He’s barely moving it too. Just lightly grazing your walls, and it’s so frustrating. You just want to cum. Get it all out.

Namjoons resolve finally breaks when he sees a trickle of creamy white drip out of your pussy and onto the couch, he can’t take it anymore. He genuinely wanted to tease you, make a fucking mess of you. Make you beg and cry for him because of how much you piss him off. But not even he is strong enough to stall, he needs you. Now.

One last slap to the tit, he pulls his hand away and hastily reaches over for his wallet on the side table next to the couch. He pulls a condom out, brings the wrapper up to his mouth, and tears it open. And fuck, that’s so sexy. Your pussy clenches his finger again at the sight, and then he jerks it out of your pussy with a grunt.

You whine at him, almost feeling offended. But Namjoon knows damn well he’s going a little crazy because he just got jealous. Jealous of his own fucking finger. Should be his cock, not his finger. What the fuck are you doing to him?

He doesn’t warn you before he stuffs the same finger, accompanied by another finger, into your mouth. Nearly making you choke just like you did on his cock. Then he tosses the wrapped condom onto your bare chest, “Put it on me. Quick.”

You don’t even hesitate, you grab the condom with shakey hands and fumble it out of the package, all while sucking his fingers clean of your own juices. It only turns you on more, tasting yourself on his skin.

You reach for his cock, grab it with one shaky hand and his hips buck into it a bit. He lets out a little hiss through his teeth because of how sensitive it is, neglected for too long. That’s how it feels, anyway.

You roll the condom onto his cock snuggly and then look up at him expectantly with a desperate but wrecked look. Give him the best ‘fuck me’ eyes you can muster up. He keeps his fingers in your mouth. Doesn’t even move. Again, drawing it out. Attempting to, anyway.

You whine against his fingers, and would probably be begging him if you could talk. But Namjoon can’t take it anymore, lucky for you. He moves his hips forward and uses his free hand to position his cock at your entrance.

The moment the tip is sucked into your tight hole, he snaps. Literally, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cry out even with your mouth around his fingers, sounding muffled and wet. Your back arched obscenely because fuck you didn’t expect him to just go in like that.

You’re not complaining though, fuck no.

His head falls back like yours, and he stays like that for a moment, his teeth grit and eyes clenched shut. He removes his fingers from your mouth and grabs your face with one hand, smooshing your cheeks, the other hand coming back up to your tit and squeezing it harshly, as if he just can’t help himself. Squeezing so hard that it kinda hurts. But fuck, it feels so good. You’re starting to realize maybe you have a thing for shit like this.

Doesn’t help when you feel his cock twitching inside of you. It’s just enough stimulation to make your pussy start throbbing around him.

It’s pathetic how close you already are. But god, it feels like he edged you for hours. Even though he barely did anything. You guess you just kinda forgot what actual dick felt like compared to your fingers or a toy.

He starts moving his hips slowly, trying to be patient while your pussy adjusts to his size. But your patience left the moment he entered you.

“Fuck. Go faster, please.”

Your voice sounds high-pitched and a bit loud which you don’t even realize. You can’t control it. He clicks his tongue at this, gives your face a little shake as he says, “Thought I told you to shut the fuck up? Unless you want all of your coworkers to know you’re letting your boss fuck the shit out of you like a whore? That what you want?”

He pulls back out and then slams in again. You let out another cry, body jolting at the force. And he starts just pounding into you.

You asked for this.

How the fuck are you supposed to be quiet when he goes from 0 to 100 like that? Holy fuck.

“Oh, so you do? You want them all to know I’m making you my slut after humiliating you for your shitty writing? C’mon, speak up. Can’t hear you. Use your fucking words.”

All while snapping his hips harshly into yours, out one moment, deep inside the next. You can barely take it. You swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach. Hardly even register his degrading words because you can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even control the loud noises coming out of your mouth, although you desperately try.

Tears prickle your eyes, not because it hurts but because you’re overwhelmed. He’s so hard to figure out. Acting like he’s gonna tease you one moment, and then fucking you like he’s trying to split you in half the next.

He lets out a grunt at your lack of response and ends up squishing your cheeks harder, forcing your mouth open. He leans down slightly and fucking spits in your mouth and then stuffs his fingers back in your mouth, “Actually, just shut the fuck up. Keep your mouth busy and shut the fuck— ah, fuck— the fuck up.”

Fucking disgusting. Fucking hot.

The way his words falter and he loses train of thought for a second makes your pussy clench deliciously around him. Because it’s confirmation that he is just as affected as you are. Just as fucked up right now.

You both look a mess. Your shirt is torn open, your skirt all crooked and pushed up to your waist, and your panties aren’t even fully off. His shirt is still damp with spit, his pants only halfway pulled down and now there’s a creamy white stain on the front of them from your juices dripping down his dick.

It’s heaven, honestly. Or maybe hell. You aren’t sure. But it feels so fucking good.

His hips piston into your cunt hard and fast, and you do your best to focus on sucking his fingers, but the pressure is building fast. You can feel your pussy start to flutter, your clit throbbing, begging to be paid attention to. He can feel it too, it’s making him go crazy because of how responsive you are.

He slams home one more time before staying there, swiveling his hips in a circle so that his pelvis brushes against your clit each time, giving it the minimal amount of attention that has you nearly seeing stars, almost there, but not quite.

“Need more?” He pants out.

You nod your head quickly, his fingers covered in your saliva at this point. Dripping in the essence of you just like his cock. He nods back, removes his other hand from your hip, and settles it at the bottom of your belly, pushing down and placing his thumb over your clit. He starts flicking it fast and starts fucking into you again, picking up the pace so that the room fills with wet squelching noises and skin slapping.

The way he’s pushing onto your tummy while rubbing your clit, Jesus fuck… it’s intense. Makes it feel like he is inside of your stomach. So fucking deep.

Yup. That does it. The stagnant pressure starts building rapidly, he can feel it too. Your pussy starts tightening and fluttering beautifully around his girth. You’re making the prettiest noises, still quiet thanks to his fingers stuffed in your mouth but he can hear you the perfect amount.

God, it’s so perfect, he thinks.

You, you’re not thinking at all. He really is fucking you stupid. Your eyes are continuously rolling back and your hips buck into his thrusts desperately, quickly approaching your climax.

He flicks your clit back and forth, fast but precisely, “C’mon baby, give it to me. Fucking cum all over me. Make a mess. Ungh— god you’re such a fucking slut.”

And that sends you. Out of everything, something about Namjoon calling you a slut just fucking does it for you. You let out a muffled moan, that would be a scream most likely if his fingers weren’t sheathed into your mouth. Your legs tremble and your body shudders through the force of your orgasm.

Your pussy throbs violently, walls rippling around his cock as you finally see those stars. It feels fucking amazing, makes tears fall down your cheek. You can barely breathe because of the force of how fucking good it feels to cum on his cock.

This is his end too. He simply can’t hold back when he feels the vice grip of your pussy desperately trying to keep his cock in place, the rippling of your walls nearly feels like vibrations. He lets out another groan, but it almost comes out like a whine. Very subtly. His face is scrunched up and his mouth open as his hips stutter, his cock spilling and filling up the condom.

It goes on and on. Neither of you thinking about how much you hate each other, only thinking about how good it feels to be together like this. He swears he’s never had sex better than this. You feel the same.

The reality of it all is hate sex is unmatched. Especially when tensions build for so long and you both act as if you can’t stand each other… who knew a fuck could’ve helped with that?

At the last twitch of his cock, when your pussy becomes overstimulated and sore, he collapses on top of you. Both of you panting harshly, catching your breaths as your hearts beat in unison.

He removes his spit-covered fingers from your mouth, and he places lazy little kisses on your skin. He isn’t even sure where, too fucked out to pay attention, just anywhere he can reach while he rests on top of you. It’s an oddly tender gesture. A little sweet, even.

It’s silent for a few minutes. And you both start to realize what you’ve done. You just fucked your technical boss… he just fucked one of his co-writers.

Definitely shouldn’t have happened.

He can’t find himself regretting it though. He feels so light, that he could almost smile. As much of an excuse as it was at first, it genuinely helped with the tension. He’s not quite as irritated with you. Does he like you now? Fuck no.

But the more post-nut clarity comes to fruition… the more he thinks he can tolerate you. Maybe even work with you, compromise with you.

You on the other hand… you don’t know how to feel. You don’t regret it, because fuck, it did help with the tension. You feel lighter too. Not as sensitive. Not as hateful.

Maybe it was for the best. It’s not like anyone has to know, anyway. It’s like couples counseling sort of… except you’re definitely not a couple, and you both still cannot stand each other.

But you can tolerate each other now that most of the tension is gone for the time being.

“You good?”

He tears you away from your thoughts, and you look up at him with bleary eyes. It makes you feel sort of warm and fuzzy inside knowing despite his dislike for you, he’s still checking to make sure he didn’t cross any lines.

Well, he crossed several lines. But, you aren’t complaining. You’re glad he did. Glad he reduced you to this.

“I’m fucking great.”

That earns you a little chuckle. He sighs a breath of relief, was worried he went a bit too hard or did too much, especially since you didn’t set any boundaries beforehand. But you took what he gave you and you took it like a fucking champ, he thinks.

He reluctantly gets off of you because now that you’re both a bit more clear-headed, the couch feels a little too small, and he doesn’t wanna crush you.

His softening cock is still inside of you, so he braces a hand on the couch and slowly pulls out, both of you hissing at the feeling. He watches in awe as your juices flow freely out of you. God, what a pretty pussy, he thinks.

He dips a finger back into your heat, causing you to let out a little noise of surprise. But he removes it quickly, brings his finger up to his mouth and sucks it clean.

“Mmm. Yummy.” He says, wiggling his brows.

Ugh.

He pats your thigh before getting off of the couch, taking the condom off, and tying it up to chuck it in the trash. He stuffs his soft and sensitive cock back into his underwear and pulls up his pants, feeling utterly satiated now. Bubbly and light, even though he won’t show it. He makes his way to the little fridge in his studio and he grabs two bottles of water, tosses you one which you barely catch.

You gulp down the water gratefully, parched considering he stole most of your fucking spit. Asshole.

He begins walking into the bathroom attached to his studio as he says, “C’mon let’s go get cleaned up. Then we can look at those lyrics again and see if it still sounds like kids bop now that I’ve fucked you stupid.”

At your immediate glare, he lets out a laugh, and shrugs innocently, “What? Pussy is magic, can change a man’s mind about a lot of things. Now hurry up, you’re a fucking mess.”

And with that, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

Yeah. Fuck him. Still insufferable.

But god, you really do hope to fuck him again.

[psuedosugu]

Ohhhh my golly I saw your Vox x daughter reader an it got me thinking now HEAR ME OUT….what if reader got bored on day an just went for a walk and somehow came across Alastor, now let’s say Alastor’s a lil confused like he never knew Vox had a daughter and readers like *sad sigh* “I’d be surprised if anyone knew” an Alastors all fatherly to her at first it was to get dirt on Vox without reader realizing but in the end he just liked hanging out with her. Eventually Vox noticed how his daughter is gone half the time but reader just convinces her dad that she’s always home and how HES the one always away. Change the ending how you see fit or do whatever you like but UGH I love your writing stay hydrated and eat wellll🩵

assjjjkkj thank youuu the amount of feedback ive gotten on this acc that ive only been posting on for like 3 days is insane, anyways this is such an interesting idea omgee

cw: reader having some emotionally absent daddy issues

fem reader

pt 1 here

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

͙͘͡★ || so you had just gone out on an innocent walk, right?

͙͘͡★ || well, technically snuck out since your dad doesn’t like you going out by yourself.

͙͘͡★ || theres bad people out there! what if you got kidnapped or something?

͙͘͡★ || no one recognizes you, of course, since he doesn’t really talk about you let alone shows you to the public.

͙͘͡★ || you appreciate him for that, you guess, it must be annoying to not be able to go anywhere without a bunch of microphones in your face.

͙͘͡★ || you just wish he was around more! he barely makes any time for you and yeah, his work is super important and time consuming but you’re his daughter!

͙͘͡★ || lost in thought, you bump into a dude in the sidewalk.

͙͘͡★ || “whoops! excuse me, ma’am!”, he says in a weird, static-ish voice.

͙͘͡★ || your skeleton almost jumps out of your skin when you look up.

͙͘͡★ || the radio demon, the guy that your dad has had beef with since you were little

͙͘͡★ || you just stare at him with a “ :o “ look on your face, not knowing if you should run or not.

“little girl, are you, um, alright?” he stares down at you, slightly confused.

“im…uhhh…im okay!”

“you’ve heard of me, i suppose.”

“i guess…. my dad doesn’t really like you.”

“and who might your father be, hm?”

“yk the tv dude? the one thats, like, everywhere? yeah, that him.”

“hmm…interesting…i wasn’t aware he had a daughter…”

“well, he doesn’t really talk about…..”

͙͘͡★ || at this point you stop blabbing mid sentence, realizing you probably shouldn’t have said all of that to his sworn enemy.

͙͘͡★ || what if he does kidnap you and holds you for ransom?

͙͘͡★ || but he doesn’t do that, surprisingly.

͙͘͡★ || he asks you why you’re out alone so late and you shrug, saying that your dad wasn’t really there to stop you.

͙͘͡★ || you were naive and alastor was planning to use that to his advantage, not to hurt you, but to hurt vox.

͙͘͡★ || what would he think when he found out that his own daughter was buddy-buddy with his sworn enemy?

͙͘͡★ || he’d feel like a failure of a father, and thats what alastor wanted, to get under his skin.

͙͘͡★ || you guys walked while you told him everything, about him being away all the time, about you feeling lonely, while he nodded along

͙͘͡★ || you guys even stopped at one of those old timey bar places and bought you a milkshake!

͙͘͡★ || eventually you headed home, your dad hadn’t noticed you had been gone which figures.

͙͘͡★ || this became routine, you hung out with alastor and he gave you advice and stuff. you thought that if he had an ulterior motive it would’ve shown itself by now but no, it hadn’t.

͙͘͡★ || alastor himself had started to forget why he had even started all of this. he found himself enjoying your company and actually caring about you.

͙͘͡★ || after a while vox started to notice that he’s been seeing you less than he usually does.

͙͘͡★ || i mean, the tower is big but cmon! there were days where he would barely see you at all! where were you going?

͙͘͡★ || he confronted you about it at dinner one day.

“[name], dearest, i cant help but notice that i haven’t been seeing you around much lately. what’ve you been up to?”

͙͘͡★ || you pause, looking up from your food.

“i, um, dont know what you’re talking about.”

͙͘͡★ || he furrows his (virtual) eyebrows.

“is that so?”

“mhm!”

͙͘͡★ || vox is reasonably skeptical and resorts to spying on you through your smartwatch because of course you have a voxtech branded smartwatch!

͙͘͡★ || hes absolutely livid when he finds out who you’ve been sneaking out to be with and he’s waiting for you when you get home.

͙͘͡★ || you’re indefinitely grounded until he says so and he starts tracking where you go in the tower.

͙͘͡★ || he knows that its a violation of privacy and stuff but dont you see that he’s trying to protect you? alastor is dangerous! he doesn’t get how you didn’t see it earlier.

͙͘͡★ || alastor does succeed on what he set out to do, though. vox is distraught, feeling like a horrible father. he even vents to valentino about it out of all the people!

“-i mean, what kind of father doesn’t even notice their own child sneaking out in broad daylight every day? i should’ve paid more attention to her, im a failure!”

“mhm….yeah….”

͙͘͡★ || val obviously doesn’t give a shit.

͙͘͡★ || after not bumping into you for a while and seeing the up in vox slandering him online, alastor figures what happened.

͙͘͡★ || he’s glad that he succeeded in his mission to bother vox further but does miss talking to you.

͙͘͡★ || vox does vow to make more time for you and be a more attentive dad, so i guess some good comes out of this.

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

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[moonit3]

Yandere mafia x male reader. I imagine that the reader became a prisoner because he was part of the rival mafia (the reader's mafia was defeated), our mafia boss arrives drunk and wants sex.

this took more time than I expected, maybe it wwas the fact that I didn’t know what name to give the new oc. also this is dedicated to the anon who asked for more gay sex in colorful letters.

MORE THAN ENEMIES

➥warnings/notices: male yandere, amab/m! reader, mlm, nsfw, smut, dubcon, reader is coerced, sub! yandere, dom! reader, handjob (receiving), oral (receiving), anal (giving), both characters are drunk, reader is implied to have a big cock, is that a warning?), yandere is implied to be a virgin but reader is experienced, end is a little rushed.

➥ yandere! mafia man x male! reader

➥ synopsis: losing your group to allistair made you feel horrible, but feeling his lips on yours made things slightly better.

➥ a/n: once again I am feeding the male readers of this blog with this one, so any comments and positive criticisms is welcome to this post. it took me more time than as my original plan was to make it as I literally searched in how to write smut, so this might be better than my last works related to nsfw content and that writing this, I felt somewhat cringe and embarrassed, so yeah….but anyways, enjoy this.

earlier today, the west coast mafia thrown a celebration to it leader after the group managed to taken down their longtime enemies. people were shoot down inside the gala room, making the walls red as the victorious drink and laugh from gaining an enormous territory over the east. the members are happy and dancing to show their enthusiasm over the victory, even the boss is celebrating with his men.

the party lasted hours until everyone fell asleep all over the manor, sleeping at the ground after a loud and crazy party, except for the boss. allistair is somewhere else way more properly than a cold floor of the living room, instead he is in his room, currently teasing his prisoner, in this case, you.

“why aren’t you paying attention on me?” the drunken state makes you worry about the amount of alcohol allistair has drink, definitely more than five bottles to turn like this. “y-you know that you are mine, right? so your attention has to fully mine!”

his body is rubbing against your, trying to gain a reaction from you. the whining coming out from his lips are driving you insane, it would be a great opportunity to take advantage of this situation and escape from this place to never be seen again. however, you can’t do this with allistair being so vulnerable like this, you aren’t a monster like his men.

your hand that isn’t cuffed to the bedpost goes over his shoulder and easily push allistair to the other side of the bed, “i don’t think you should do anything with you barely knowing what you are doing.” he climbs back to your lap, but this time more touch and needy than before. “do you even know who am I?”

he nodded, dumbly smiling and admiring the tiny blushing growing in your cheeks. allistair is planning something, despite drunk, he still one the greatest mind you’ve met and that’s why he took down your group so easily.

“you are my love~” his head is now against your neck, already cuddling you and prepping kisses at your cheek. “and as my love, you are going to make me happy for the rest of my life.”

“really? should you wait to be a little more sober to talk about it?” your free hand couldn’t stop him from zipping down your fly, not when he was faster and out of your reach while doing it. “h-hold it! allistair, you aren’t in the position to make decisions like this!”

again, you pushed him away from you and this time it was a bit too roughy as he almost fall from the bed. the smile on his face gets replaced by sadness, making you stay calm as he lays down in bed with you once more. the unusual expression of dejected doesn’t fit someone like allistair nor the soft cries that are coming from his throat, if he wasn’t drunk, he would be screaming and yelling about you disobeying him.

he began to cry, not even bothering to hold it back as his hands wrapped around your body, seeking comfortable as he placed kisses on your cheek. “please, [name]….i want you to touch me…” his hands goes over your pants, zip down your pants to reveal not only your underwear, but also a large bulge that is already quite big. “can i touch you? p-please, i need to know how you feel!”

your brief are put down to show your cock, it’s hard and there is precum leaking from the tip. allistair doesn’t lose the opportunity and start stroking it, making you fail to secure the moan coming out from your lips. “a-allistair you need—you need to stop it!” but he doesn’t stop, he ignores you and keep teasing you, going faster and more faster than before.

more precum began to spill from your cock, dirtying his slender fingers as allistair began to lick your member, fully happily to see how embarrassed you become because of him. unable to take most of your cock, allistair goes slowly as his throat isn’t accustomed to take it deeper than he wished. his head goes down and up at your member, gaining a rhythm to not slow down nor make you uncomfortable.

“a-ah!” your hips moves on its own, resulting in allistair not only in whimpering more, but also having him going faster as you free hand grab a handful amount of his hair as a way to make him go faster. “AH, ALLISTAIR!”

it took a couple of more stoking to allistair before his mouth was full. his eyes full of tears as you released him from your touch and let him swallow the entire fluids, not letting a single drop escaping his lips. your eyes couldn’t believe that he did it, the man you always feared is now looking at you with lust on his eyes. he wants more of you.

“[name]…can we do more, please?” his zipped down his pants, smiling at your exhausted and dizzy state, adoring how you look. “i promise to be good for you.”

you are kissing allistair softly, something you wouldn’t never do, but after sharing a bottle of champagne with him change things. his lips taste like alcohol, a drink you wouldn’t never enjoy, however it’s feel good by tasting it on him.

between the kisses, your hands (now free from the handcuffs) play with his chest, twisting his nipples and in return, hearing the soft whimpering from his lips. it’s weird to have one of most dangerous man underneath you, ready to be taken by you only.

“p-put it inside me, [name]! i need you now!” allistair begs, no- implores you to take him. “just promise me to go s-slow!”

“i won’t hurt you, allistair.” you chuckled, playing a kiss on his forehead before inserting a finger inside him. the man thrown his head against the mattress and began to whine. “but first, I need to prepare you.”

regardless of trying to hold back his voice, allistair’s voice escaped and echoed through the room. it made you smile, knowing that he is enjoy made you add another finger, but this time a little bit more faster. seeing how his body reacts to your touch is interesting and you want to see more of it.

then, you hit his most sensitive spot that result on allistair whimpering and holding your arms for security. it took a couple more of touching his insides before he came with a loud moan and dirtying his chest completely, now he is the one who is exhausted.

“did you enjoy it?” you asked and he nodded, smiling despite feeling so tired and wanting to sleep. “i’m going to put it inside, okay?”

you pour some lube around your length, then slowly pushed your cock inside him, taking time to get allistair adjust to your size. his moans got louder, but not enough to break the privacy the bedroom gives to both.

“hmp—!” his body shivers when your all of your cock got inside. it’s a new sensation to allistair, you know that, so you take a couple of minutes before starting thrusting in and out slowly, gaining more whines from him. “a-ah—ah!”

your bring his legs closer to you, carefully throwing it above your shoulder to make him take your cock deeper. then you continue to e thrust into him, making lewd noises from the impact between your cock and his entrance.

“g-good—!” his body shakes as you hit the most sensible spot again, gaining a sweet moan from him. allistair moves his arms to your neck, bringing you closer to give you a kiss. “hng—! you a-are making me feel good!”

it took a couple of more thrust to both of you each climax at the same time. you came inside this time, not daring to pull away when the idea of filling him up sounds appealing. and allistair dirty his chest again, but this time he looks calmer of it. after a while, you remove yourself from him and the fluids inside him slowly got out of him entrance, hitting the now dirty sheets.

a smile on his lips as allistair kissed you again, exhausted but happier to experience something so special with you. the two of you lays down on the bed, not caring if it’s dirty, he is staring at you with his lovestruck eyes.

“[name]~” his fingers reach out for a lock of your hair, smelling it when you just stare at him. “i love you.”

“…” it’s strange to believe of what just happened between you and the man who tried to kill your. he is your enemy, someone who took down the people you considered as a family and now you just had sex with him while drunk. it was wrong, but…it felt good at the same time.

“i love you too, allistair.”

@moonit3 writings

[caraphernellie]

last hope // e.w. ✧ [chapter one]

summary: there was little you could do to calm your excitement when you read and immediately recognised the name ellie williams in the email you received accepting your request to live on campus. sharing a dorm with your childhood best friend who you had missed so much? what a small world- it sounded like everything you could have dreamed of, like it was fate that this had brought her back to you. you could only hope that she hadn't changed, that she was still just as much a loser as you, and that things could go right back to normal. but not everyone stays the same after eleven years.

an: HELLO. OMG IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS FIC. i love it. i had the idea for a while to make a fic where ellie was this mysterious angsty roommate and i wrote the whole thing (it was a two parter) and i was not happy with it like at all. so i have completely changed the entire thing! basically. but this is so much better. and it's gonna be multiple chapters, slow burn 🫶🏻 im not sure how i feel about this first chapter pls be kind i had covid while writing this (and chapter two which i'm posting tmrw) so brain fog might have fucked this up big time but i wanted to introduce the story <3

cw: cigarettes, foster system, bitchy ellie, bad girl!ellie, good girl!reader, check masterlist for full list of content warnings !!

wc: 1.3k

if you missed the prologue you can find it here!! and the fic's masterlist right here :)

living with ellie williams is like trying to look after a disgusting animal – it’s like being a zookeeper of sorts. though you’re sure even the angry lions or crocodiles could be more pleasant than she. 

it’s this blatant lack of disrespect that just pisses you off the most. the loud music in the middle of the night, the putrid cigarette smoke ruminating in her bedroom (which could definitely get you in trouble with the dean), the way she seems to have nothing better to do than hurl insults your way.

“what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

and she’s so secretive. but you get it. you hide things from her too, after all, she had declared you her enemy. it actually made you laugh when she’d done so, which had only solidified the apparent burning hatred she had for you. you didn’t even know what you’d done. she took one look at you, recognised you to be her childhood best friend, and then decided you were everything wrong with the world.

“the fuck are you doing in my room?” she growls, a tight grip around your wrist to pull you towards the door. her nails dig into the skin.

“woah, woah, woah, ellie, i–”

“are you after my journal?” she grunts, forest green eyes glare at you. it’s a hardened gaze, and if looks could kill, you’d have been dead five times already.

“no i- i don’t- i didn’t even know you had a journal in the first place,” you say, trying to pry your wrist out of the firm grip, only for ellie to grab your other wrist now too.

“then what the hell are you doing in my fuckin’ room when i’m not here?”

“i’m just looking for my phone charger,” you mumble, looking away awkwardly. “you took it last night, remember? i kind of need it back now.”

“oh.”

the snarl on ellie’s face drops and she begrudgingly lets go of you, but she’s still eyeing you distrustfully. even though you’re telling the complete truth, her stare still makes you feel like you are doing something wrong anyway.

“you could’ve asked,” ellie mumbles, and you sigh, unplugging your charger from the socket.

“not really, i mean, you slept till noon and before i could even ask you went straight for the showers. i have work soon, so i had to come grab it.”

“text me next time, at least,” ellie mutters, pushing you towards the door with a firm hand on the small of your back. “i don’t like you snooping.”

“i wasn’t even snooping, i just–”

“you so were.”

“oh no i was not,” you say stubbornly, narrowing your eyes. “i would not willingly enter your room for longer than a minute, smellie.”

“i- sm- do i smell?” ellie mutters, stopping to sniff herself. it’s oh so charming, the act garnering a small laugh from you. “i don’t smell bad, fuck you.”

“yeah, you don’t, for once,” you retort. “i’m–”

your teasing words are cut short when the bedroom door is slammed in your face. raising your eyebrows, you nod, talking into thin air.

“mhm. okay. i mean, i thought my word play on ‘smellie’ was genius, but…”

you shrug it off, heading back to the couch to put on your shoes and plug your phone in for a little while before having to leave for work. at this point work is a nice escape. being able to get away from complicated words and numbers and of course being able to get away from ellie’s suffocating presence.

nothing but music. and so many of the people you came by in your job at the little record store down the street were so cool, it was how you’d made the majority of your friends. 

and you appreciate all those friends a lot, of course. you’re only three weeks into the semester and you know you’ll be able to rely on dina when the stress of finals week approaches later on.

you’d opted to stick to your own during high school, who cared if people thought you were some loser loner? you were focusing on studies, it’s not like your high school status would matter down the line.

but moving out of home now at nineteen meant you were going to have to find a support system that isn’t just your family– hence the sudden burst of extrovertedness you’d attempted since the start of september. you managed to find dina, and by extension, her very on-and-off boyfriend jesse, and their other friend cat.

but it feels still as though you’re missing something and you know exactly what it is, but lying to yourself is better than admitting you’re sad about ellie.

perhaps you’d got too excited after discovering she’d be your roommate. as you often do as an overthinker, you got your hopes up only to be let down.

ellie was supposed to be nice, still. in your head that inner child in you thought over how fun it’d be to basically have daily sleepovers with your old best friend, amusing yourselves over the same inside jokes, catching up and being able to navigate some of the crazier years of life with her.

but she pretty much crushed that dream with the way she took a step back after recognising you, and the words she said.

“what made you think i was going to be a dork like you still?” she laughed dryly. “that’s just unrealistic.”

and it hadn’t hit you at first as to why she acted like this. of course, it’s just as you feared. she’d moved out of boston to god knows where with god knows who and morphed into this mean, rowdy girl. the grown-up version of ellie isn’t who you thought she’d be, and at this point you felt you only had yourself to blame for feeling let down.

she was right, after all. it’s just unrealistic to think that after eleven years, she’d be the same.

if it’s not ellie’s overarching bitchy attitude she always carries, it’s the fact that you clash heads in every which way. she’s made it a point to snub you for being some kind of ‘goody-two-shoes.’ you told her it was immature, cringe even. the only response garnered being a scowl on her face.

after tying the laces of your docs, you sit for a moment. ellie barges out of her room again, not something you hadn’t predicted what with the loud sound of her feet you’ve grown used to already.

she’s carrying her whole bag, pens spilling right out the unzipped pockets. and almost like some kind of decrepit monster in a movie she pauses, taking a moment to glare at you. “what now?”

“huh?” a brief moment of silence is interrupted by you stifling a laugh. “dude, you came out here basically guns blazing, and you’re shocked that i’m looking?”

“i’m late,” ellie mutters with a frown, not bothering to pick up the mess she’s left behind as she laces up her converse. she doesn’t bother to sit down. “y’know, because i actually made friends in our classes. so–”

“crazy story, bro,” you say disinterestedly, leaning back into the couch. ellie sighs a moment before glaring in your direction again.

“you are a miserable person.”

“as if you’re any better,” you protest. it’s definitely a matter of butting stubborn personalities– it’s not like you want to fight with ellie like this. but your pride isn’t going to let you sweep her indecencies aside just because she used to play mermaids with you in the summer.

it’s just this part of you that can’t help but worry a little bit. she had to have spent years in the foster system. you’d worried all throughout your teenage years, hoping she’d have been treated fairly in the very least, though knowing in some place deep down that she probably wasn’t.

her excessive sleep, her bad habits, hell, even the attitude you can’t move past. it all has you a little bit concerned. 

rising to your feet and grabbing your keys, you move past ellie. 

“i’m working the closing shift tonight, so don’t be waiting on me, just because i’m sure you will.”

your jest earns a chuckle and a cluck of the tongue from ellie.

“riiiight, riiiight. i’ll be naively waiting around for you just like you did for eleven years.”

"i know you're flattered that i was still thinking of you, but there's no need to keep bringing it up."

"you're ridiculous."

taglist: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @eurewili @diddiqueen @machetegirl109 @craz1er4you @divinediors @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites @readbydayana @slut4mascss @unicorniusfallapatorius @littlegingerperson2 @feelsoseencantdream

boy this app wanted to test my patience while i was formatting everything...

[slvtforfiction]

here to request again because I thought about something !! Alright hear me out a Johnnie Guilbert smut where we dress all pink like skirts and cute shit ifyk what I mean. I think an enemies to lovers trope would be perfect !!

Fuck you (literally).

☆ OMG.

☆ @icecubesaredelicous love u sm for this request,Ty love. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ HDKWJDJSKSKDJ

☆ Anyways,

☆ Johnnie Guilbert X Reader ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ Enemies to lovers ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

☆ SMUT

☆ Masterlist

☆ Hey guys! Before anything else I would ask you to request anything you want because I've lost a lot of motivation and it would really help! :D

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

You:

Fuck you.

Johnnie had decided to message me just to tell me how bad my outfit was as per usual.

I couldn’t be assed to deal with him anymore,I thought as I hit the big red block button on my screen.

I was wearing a pink mini skirt with a crop top,black with a pink logo,posting it because I look cute but ofcourse he had to be the one to ruin it.

It was the same thing I was wearing to the party and I was slightly annoyed and embarrassed that he had to be rude.

He was beyond annoying (not to mention rude) and I didn’t want to deal with him. Not today at least,I had a party to go to at Colby’s apartment.

I walked into Colbys apartment,my outfit as pretty as ever,no matter what other people (Johnnie) said.

The apartment was crowded with familiar faces and one that caught my eye,Johnnie mother fucking Guilbert.

I sighed as I grabbed myself a drink,this is going to be a long night.

I will only be here an hour I told myself trying to calm myself down but in reality I knew it was a lie.

After 2 hours of shots,drinks and snacks to sober up a little,I was ready to leave. I bid my farewells and good nights to the people I had been speaking to and left Colbys apartment.

I walked into my apartment,kicking off my uncomfortable heels and stumbling to the kitchen for a glass of water to sober myself up further.

It wasn’t long after I had put on my sweatpants and a hoodie that I opened the door to find Johnnie staring back at me.

“What do you want?” I sighed,rolling my eyes back into my head. “Awh sweetheart at least act happy to see me!” He said,stumbling into my apartment.

“No,tell me what you want or get out.” I told him, “Can I crash here?” He asked almost pleading and I felt bad.

“Are you going to mock me in any way?” I asked him sternly and he shook his head “Fine but only because I don’t want you dead,it decreases the value of my apartment.” I told him as I grabbed a glass,filling it with water and placing it infront of him.

“Drink.” I told him as he laid on my sofa,sitting up to take a sip every once in a while.

I looked at him,realising how pretty he actually was before quickly snapping out of it. He had been my enemy for god knows how long,a hate relationship and never a love hate relationship. He was horrible and rude and I was horrible and rude back,Thats the way the balance of our relationship worked.

Although deep down I did wonder why he knocked on my door,out of everyone he knew in this apartment block,I mean for godsakes Jake was only below me.

I ignored my thoughts,belittling it down to the fact that my apartment was across from Colbys and therefore easier for a drunk to walk to.

“Im going to bed.” I told him and threw a blanket over his almost lifeless body. And with that I walked upstairs to my bed and fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I woke up the following morning and got dressed before walking downstairs to make myself some pancakes.

I was surprised to see Johnnie still asleep on my sofa,as the sun rays hit his eyelids.

I smiled at him before beginning to make my pancakes. I stood over the stove as I flipped the golden brown,fluffy pancakes.

I smiled to myself looking at my plate of perfection. I sat down at my island in the kitchen as I ate.

“Good morning,pinky pie.” He said smiling whilst he stretched “Oh fuck you.” I said as I put my plate in the sink.

My rage seeped in,threatening to ruin my day and he always seemed to be the cause of it.

“Gladly.” He said smiling as he walked up behind me,holding his hands at my waist.

“Bold of you to assume I would go anywhere near you.” I told him before he pulled me into a kiss.

I resisted it until I gave into the kiss,smashing my lips back into his. He picked me up by the waist as he lied me down on the sofa.

“Do you have any idea what these outfits do to me?” He said pulling up my skirt whilst simultaneously pulling down my panties.

I whined out as his fingers circled my clit,settling his head in between my legs. He wrapped his arms around my thigh,keeping me close as his tongue hit my entrance,sliding inside.

“Johnnie!” I moaned out,whining as my eyes rolled back.

I had known Johnnie for ages,never a girlfriend in sight,but god was he good with his tongue.

His tongue hit my g-spot and my eyes rolled further,my head lulling to the side and my hands shaking in his hair.

“Please! M’ close!” I almost screamed whilst he ventured deeper through my walls.

“Come f’me love.” He said and with that I came undone on his tongue. Though he didn’t stop,he continued through my high and then pulled me closer to continue his movements.

“Johnnie please! Too-too much!” I muttering as tears streamed down my face from overstimulation,my hands unable to grip anything as my thighs along with the rest of my body shook uncontrollably.

I came undone on his tongue another time,but this time he stopped and pulled my body,that shook almost violently,into his.

I cuddled into his chest and soon fell asleep.

I woke up to find myself in bed,Johnnie no where to be found across the apartment. I gave up liking and decided he had left me,going back to bed,I pulled the covers over me and looked at my phone.

Johnnie:

Gone to get us some food I’ll be back in 10 okay love? X

[shakirawastaken]

dsmp if... you were a romance trope

i got inspiration (sapnap, dream, george, karl, quackiy, wilbur) 

sapnap (hockey x figure skater): - im in the middle of heartbreaker rn and SHUT UP - i LOVE THIS TROPE - IM NOT EVEN A FIGURE SKATER I DO TAEKWONDO BUT I STILL FROTH OVER THIS SHIT - and then in addition to that one tommyinnit is a figure skater and everyone else is on a hockey team “ice these hurts” or smt h like that - i love this trope. - anyway i think that this trope comes hand in hand with enemies to lovers - his hockey team and ur figure skating group are at the same winter sports competiton - and you have to share a rink - booooo - so everyday you end practice with the sight of a bunch of hockey buffs roughhousing in the stands, waiting for you to finish - and everyday a certain brunette one sneers and smirks at you as you walk off the ice - “had a nice practice ice queen/king?” he asks you teasingly - “shut up, yeti” you mutter back gratingly as you bump your shoulder into his build as you pass him - and he comes up with a new one everyday - and you quip right back at him, unphased - one day, he comes into practice early just to spite you - what he wasn’t expecting is to see how good you actually were on the ice - he sat there like “ :O” and just watche dyou glide across the ice with what seemed like barely any effort - and he watched how passionate you were in your craft and the dance - and bro was whipped right then and there - so that day as you were leaving he said “you were amazing out there” and it took u jumpscared - you were like “no insult today?” - and he was like “dang, didnt know u liked them that much ;) but not today, not for something as beautiful as that” - and i think you can guess where it went from there... :)

 dream (ceo and employee romance):  - AKAIAKAKAHAKH TELL ME YOU SEE THE VISION - i mean hes a ceo alr so its like one step in the door you know - anyway hes a ceo - bro wears those fancy ass suits everyday and has like a wine cellar mini fridge shit thing in his office  - any way you pull up to his headquarters one day for like an interview and you were so fucking nervous  - you ran into him in the elevator (and no clue who he was) - and you basically vented to him for the 30 second elevator ride before scurrying off to your interview - bro didnt even get dreams name or anything - he kinda just smiled and wished you well as you ran away  - he thought you were so cute  - and you thought dude was hot as fuck  - anyway you got the JOB!! LETS GOO - the next day, your supervisor is like taking u around showing u the works - ....and you meet the ceo - its dream - and youre like :0 and he’s like  *smirk wink* ;) “hey” - and youre like “well fuck hes the ceo i cant be in love with him” - and you avoid him - but he makes it his life’s mission to get on ur radar - in the break room, in ur cubicle, in the cafeteria, in the parking lot man is ON YOU LIKE A MOTH TO A LIGHT - eventually he convinces you to go to fancy dinner - and WOW hes paying?? so that shit was FIREEEE - fancy wagyu steak and 102379182 year old wine i mean cmon - it was good ok - he asks you out after dinner and assures u ur job wont be at risk and everything - ba da bing ba da boom  - now youre dating happily and he spoils the FUCK outta you  - lmk if you want this one as a big fic with dialogue

george (neighbors): - tell me why whenever i have my delulu daydreams with george he’s always a neighbor - very much boy next door vibes - omg HES YOUR COLLEGE ROOMMATE NEXT DOOR - stoppppp - on move in day he pulls up with his family and u with urs and youre like - “hi ! nice to meet you im so exicted to move in!” and bros like “same!” - sometimes hes loud bc hes talking to his friends but you dont mind - hes a cs major and ur  whatever u want major - one day you decided to start singing  rlly loud while cleaning - ur singing taylor swift - and then george could hear you from the room next door to yours - so he writes up a little post it note that was like “loved the concert! when’s the next one?” and stuck in on your door - you found it and started mad blushign - you had a crush on him since day one awwww - anyways you two started communicating via post it notes and songs played loudly through the walls <3 - till one day you hear boyfriend by big time rush - and then you play girlfriend by avril lavigne back - and then he slips you a post it note under the door and you open the door before you could read it  - and its an unspoken like thing that you start dating - its so romantic how you can saw you guys starting dating because of taylor swift !!

quackity (academic rivals): - DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THIS TROPE IT BRINGS ME LIFE ALRIGHT - alright - two law school students FIGHTING IT OUT ACADEMICALLY - you guys met in ur freshman year english class or some shit - clashed together in a discussion group - and its been game on since then - your texts with each other are flaunting texts - “hey alex, guess who got a 97 on the last midterm?” - “guess who got a 99 ;)” - over time, the texts started getting more and more hostile - people started to thing you two actually hated one another’s guts  - but in reality it was more for the thrill - but this continued throughout your law school careers - and you both become successful lawyers in the end!! - and when the headmaster calls you both into his office and says - “youre both valedictorian! congrats! you have to give a speech together” - well its like all the hatred faded away - you grinned and cheezed at each other before giving each other the biggest hug ever - so you both wrote a speech together - and soon the day of graduation came - and q goes at the end “i wouldn’t be here without the person who motivated me through it all, so thank you (y/n)” and youre like “hey man *sob* wtf *sob” - and you kiss him on the cheek and cheer to all the graduates  - after the ceremony he catches up to you in the parking lot, grabbing your wrist before you could go off with ur family - and blurts out word soup - and ur like what - and hes like “i really like you, and law school wouldn’t have been the same without you. can we be more than friends?” - and youre like “duhhh” and kiss him right there karl (best friends to lovers): - YOU ARE IN LOVE BY TAYLOR SWIFT  - that is the song for this SCENARIO - you two met when you were little kids in like first grade - your friends werent there on that day so you hung out with each other - hooked to the other since then and there - it was always “karl and you” and “you and karl” - you came as a packaged deal - through ups and downs you were there together - you graduated high school together and were going to the same college together now - while karl barely got into any romantic relationships, you seemed to be going through a few of them  - you were desperate for a love connection and honestly i aint blaming u - one day after a horrible date he came over to your dorm and u had an impromptu sleepover - you were in karls old shirt and some pajama pants and he was in his pajamas - and you two were just watching a movie together - before he turns to you abruptly, and you turn to look at him - and he’s like “you’re my best friend”  - and you saw a switch flip in him - since then, the dynamic between you two changed (for the better) - you became more flirty more touchy  - you started to act like you were a couple more and more - one day you saw him open his wallet to pull out his card  - and u saw that he has a picture of the two of you in his wallet - and then you knew that he was it for you - you ask him out that night - and hes so happy hes picking you up and spinning you around - <3 wilbur (musician x fan trope): - okay this is inspired by those tik toks that are like “did you see the way he looked at me” and its harry styles staring and eyeing down a fan in the audience like YES - and he’s a musician so it fits! - imagine lovejoy is like a HUGE HUGE Band so maybe this is in the future - anyways you and ur friend go to a lovejoy concert - for the sake of the story, youre not that big a fan of lovejoy just familiar with hits like sex sells and one day - the whole time ur friend is like “theyre so good hes so good its all so good” - you two end up a few rows from barricade  - and you and ur friend start screaming it up as you should - youre not oblivious to the way the lead singer keeps looking over in your direction, winking and smiling - imagine a sweaty, singing wilbur glancing over at you during sex sells and giving you a smile as he rasps out “you know sex sells i know that” - brb ascending to heaven - anyway a time comes when he stops to speak to the audience - he wastes no time - he struts over to your side of the stage and points at you  - “what’s your name?” - and you scream it at him - “what a lovely name!” - the crowd cheers - “ahre you single?” he asks with a grin on his face - the grin grows when u nod at him - “give me ur number!?” he asks and you nod at him as ur friend is dying next to you - he gestures u and ur friend to the front of the stage by the barricade  - and he passes you a marker and make syou WRITE YOUR NUMBER ON HIS GUITAR OR HIS SHIRT OR SOMETHING - oh yeahh go you go you thank yoU! let me know if you want any of these to become a bigger story/imagine and LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT A PART 2 WITH OTHER PEOPLE :D reblogs appreciated