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iwriteyanderes2023 · 1 month

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Yandere Socialite (Fem! Yandere x Fem! Reader)

Divider credits: @/anitalenia

Trigger warning: Violence, drama between friends, profanity usage, yandere themes, name-calling, sexual harassment, power abuse. Choking, pet play, humiliation, drugging, sexual scenes, bondage play, female on female

(8941 words)

You regretted agreeing to this.

Your friends were raving about this massive party, where all the hottest celebrities and the wealthy go to flaunt or make a fool out of themselves. Obviously, it was an exclusive event, no mere commoners could simply walk in. To enter, it's either paying an extravagant fee or be (in)famous enough. Which, you were neither.

They claimed to know how to sneak in, undetected by the burly bouncers that you would rather not be the receiving end of their anger. It made sense to have some tight security, it is taking place in someone's mansion; someone's home, after all.

You, being new in this city and desperate to make connections to you could advance your career, said yes. You stupidly said yes, put on your best clubbing outfit and makeup, and went through with your friend's plan to slip in through one of the back doors while the other distracted whoever was around to hinder the plans.

Which leads you to be lost in a seemingly unending maze of hallways, you don't know where the other girls went and you don't know where you are. There wasn't a single soul wandering around the carpeted floor and chandeliered ceilings. Elegant paintings of men and women in dignified poses seem to peer at you in disgust; a filthy commoner dressed like a tramp. You didn't belong here, and it's only a matter of time before you were thrown into jail thanks to the recorded footage from the surveillance cameras you're sure were pointed at you.

You covered your arms with your hands as you moved onward, cussing under your breath about how silly it was to wear a ridiculously tall heel. It's already giving you blisters, so you decide to take them off and walk barefoot; silently and dryly sobbing about how humiliating this feels.

You continued trundling on, periodically looking back and trying to see where the life of the party is at so you could at least witness how it's like. Perhaps make a few connections, but you think that's unlikely. Most of them are probably drunk out of their mind or high off coke to care.

Actually, what are you even doing here? You're supposed to be networking at a classy, evening soiree, not a rich boy's messy party!

Before you could sigh again, you were interrupted by the sounds of yelling in a room nearby.

"Get off me, fucker!" You heard an enraged feminine voice shout out before the sounds of crashing reached your ears. Groaning could be heard as you assume the other party was shuffling to get up.

"You fucking bitch!" Retorted a masculine voice, followed by more stumbling. "What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"We're over. Get the fuck out of my sight!" She yelled, but it doesn't sound like she was too hurt over it. It's more anger if anything.

"What...? Just like that?! After everything that I've done-"

"All you did was embarrass me over and over again! Like, does it kill you to take a shower? Does it kill you not to be an entitled, gross loser all the time?"

You inched closer to the door and discreetly poked your head in. You saw the back of a woman with the most gorgeous blond hair draping down to her tailbone. She's wearing a silver sequin dress that barely covers the fold of her bum.

The male, slightly drunk and injured from the shove with debris around him, was glaring at the blonde.

"Shut up, slut! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't get to live like this!" He threateningly pointed at her, but she didn't budge.

"Oh? You mean that monthly allowance of fifty bucks from you? Please, I pick up my dogs' crap with it. That's how worthless you are to me, I'm only tolerating you because I'm doing your mommy a favour." She fought back, her words enraged the man even further.

"You can forget the deal our families had! I'll make sure the Maciovelli name goes to shit, you will be living on the streets before you know it!" He yelled right in front of her face, getting up close and personal; and having his stray spit hit her. She merely wiped them away.

"Ugh, you're insufferable. Whatever, I'd like to see you try, bitch." She hissed before shoving him away again.

But this proved to be a dangerous move, as it provoked the man to lunge and swing his arm at her. Luckily though, it seems she has predicted it and dodged his attack on time.

You had to do something! And so, you looked around as the pair went on to physically fight. Though, it's more like she's doing all the defense while he does the offense. Sometimes blocking his hits with her red handbag.

There is a vase nearby, decorated with intricate, hand-painted flowers. Without thinking, you picked it up and chucked it at the man. The antiquity of that piece of art be damned, that woman is in danger and you have to do something to help her!

She visibly jolted when it flew past some strands of gold and crashed onto her assailant's head, spraying shards everywhere and making small cuts on her legs. He was thrown backward and rendered unconscious almost immediately.

The woman whipped her head back to see the source of it, staring at you with wide, baby-blue eyes. You stared back at her breathtakingly stunning face; she had thin, sharp brown eyebrows that accentuated her fox-like eyes. Long, black eyelashes framed her iris as smokey makeup made her eyes look much bigger and lively. Her lips were glossy and in a shade of pastel pink, with a dusting of sparkly glitter.

You stammered, not knowing what to do or say. You're not even supposed to be here. So you remained silent as you and her continued this staring contest, the woman's eyes were scrutinizing you from head to toe.

She began walking towards you, her heels menacingly clicking against the marbled floor of that room. You felt a surge of panic course through you, so you took a few steps back.

Only to be grabbed by the shoulder by someone else behind you. Chills ran down your spine when you heard the familiar sound of a walkie-talkie beeping. "I found one of the trespassers."

You started panicking even more, speaking erratically to try and defend your case. But the security officer wouldn't hear it, instead restraining you and pulling you away from the scene. You thrashed and screamed, not wanting to get caught and end your life as soon as it started. "I need backup!" Shouted the guard into his device as he tried to wrangle you into his grip.

You shouldn't have agreed to them, look what it has gotten you into. Your life is so over, you're going to be shoved into a jail cell and forced to move back to where you came from. If only you could-

"Hey, you fatass!" You saw her red, crescent handbag whack the officer in the arm, he flinched in surprise. "Hands off my best friend! And who the fuck do you think you are, calling her a trespasser!?"

A look of surprise crosses his face. "Miss Maciovelli? She's with you?" The officer took a look at you, there wasn't an aura of money emanating from you, not like how the woman was.

You looked back at the woman, now putting her hands on her hips. An irate expression adorns her face, "Um, yeah? I just said it, are you fucking slow? Let her go right now!" She demanded, raising the volume of her voice as her patience was running thin.

He sighed and released his hold on you. The man brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth and said that it was a false alarm and that there wasn't a need for more of them to come over. They should focus on finding the rest of the intruders, which you can guess that they were referring to your friends.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maciovelli-"

"Yeah, you better be." She spat as she hooked her arm around yours. "Insulting my girl like that- why don't you all actually do your jobs and kick the real troublemakers out? Like that pig there, taking a nap on the floor. He tried to hit me and my best friend!" The blonde pointed her ivory-white acrylic nail to her bleeding ex, who seemed to be slowly regaining consciousness.

His eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the waking man. "O-oh! That's-!"

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman dragged you away from the scene. Pushing you by the shoulders and pulling you by the hand. You looked behind you to see the security guard entering the room while frantically speaking into his walkie-talkie.

"You're new. What's your name?" You were snapped out of your frazzled trance when she spoke. Her pace was slowing into a leisurely walk when she deemed it safe enough. The blonde's arm was still linked around yours, though.

Her baby blues curiously stared at you, all that malice and rage she held earlier was gone. Replaced with friendliness with a bit of wariness.

You told her your name and stumbled over your words trying to explain your situation as fast as possible. You made sure to thank her for saving you.

"Your friends are gross for abandoning you like that." She scowled. "I hate fake bitches like them, they should like, get shot in the head or something."

Your mouth gape open at her extreme remarks. Is this how socialites usually talk?

You defended your friends, telling her that they didn't abandon you. They probably just lost you as everyone scrambled to hide from security.

"Yeah, you're definitely new here. They knew what they were doing. You came with five others, at least one should be hiding from security with you." She brought you into a grandiose bathroom. The blonde finally lets you go and approaches the vanity. "Those sluts used you."

Miss Maciovelli pulled a tube of lip gloss from her mini handbag and began doing touchups. You simply watched her, not knowing what to say. Well, you should have seen it coming. Big city dwellers are known to be cutthroat, and you just met them.

"Sorry babe, but that's the reality here." She smacked her lip and wiped away any imperfections with her thumb.

You scratched the back of your head. You asked her if she could show you the exit, it's been a long night and you want to go home.

"You don't wanna stay for a little?" She asked, turning to you. "You're hot, I'm sure you'll have fun. I'll get rid of those snakes for you, if that's what's holding you back."

You shook your head, feeling exhausted after everything you went through today. You asked her if she's going back to the party, wherever that may be in this mansion.

"Duh." She bobbed her head.

There was a pregnant pause between the two of you. Until she decided to fish her phone out.

"Number." She extended her hand and brought her phone, numpad side to you.

You picked it up and entered your phone number. It's saved under your name, but you doubt that she will remember you after today.

"Oh, so that's how you spell it." She mumbled, looking at the contact name.

You watch her keep her device away before fixing her hair in the mirror again. She used a nail to adjust her eyelashes.

"Okay, let's go." She linked her arm around yours again, escorting you out of the bathroom.

You and she walked past numerous rooms and halls, some had excited shouts coming from them, some had salacious moaning and some had loud booming music. When you were nearing the core of the alcohol-fueled rave, the noise from massive speakers was nearly unbearable. You even had to cover your ears in order not to blow your drums out. But the woman didn't even flinch, she continued strutting along with you in tow.

You saw men and women feverishly dancing along to the beat, the surroundings were dark and illuminated by colorful strobe lights. Good thing you weren't epileptic.

"Heyy..."

You turned your head to see one of your friends. She's wasted beyond belief. "You... you made it! C'mere, I want you to meet-"

"Fuck off, whore!" Barked Miss Maciovelli, she yanked you along with her. Ignoring the expletives coming out from your friend's slurring mouth.

You asked if that was really necessary.

"Yep. They won't get the hint if you're this nice." She answered. "They'll keep trying until you're dragged down to their level. Don't ever disrespect yourself like that." She sternly warned you.

All you could do was nod meekly.

Eventually, you reached the exit. It's as grand and fancy as it was on the inside. You see a massive water fountain in the middle of a looped road. Yet, no cars could be seen but there were hoards of security milling around.

"Wait here." She left you on the marble steps as she approached a uniformed staff member. You watched them exchange some words before she marched back to you.

You thought that this was the end of your meeting with her. So you told her thanks and bid her goodbye while referring to her as Miss Maciovelli. She scrunched her nose up in disgust.

"Ew. That's so fake. Don't call me that." She crosses her arms over her chest, and you can see pale tan lines on her skin.

You asked what you should call her instead.

"Mercedes." She replied immediately. "You know, the car."

You told her that it's a beautiful name. She smiled and flipped her hair.

You told her that you better get going, it's late. Mercedes narrowed her eyes at you and grabbed your wrist.

"And how are you going to do that? It's an hour's drive from here to the city."

You said you were going to take the bus, that's how you got here in the first place. Worst come to worst, you would call a cab.

She shook her head defiantly.

"I'm driving you home, no way am I trusting those weirdos to bring you anywhere."

You told her that you would be fine and that you didn't want to be a hassle. To that, she rolled her eyes.

"Ugh, shut up." Mercedes punched your arm playfully.

A hot pink convertible then rolled up in front of the two of you. Its headlights are heart-shaped, you thought it was cute. "Miss Maciovelli?" Said the parking Valet.

"C'mon, don't be difficult." She urged you to get in through the passenger's side.

"This is your place?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. "Looks... plain."

You wouldn't call it plain. It's small but cozy. It's also all you can afford at the moment with your job, that's why you were planning to network around to get better opportunities.

"Hm." She hummed, releasing her grip on her pink, fluffy steering wheel to fix her hair.

You got out of her car and said goodbye. She didn't say a word but watched you get to the front door.

You look behind you to see her staring, so you wave bye. But she neither budged nor returned the gesture. Simply staring at you like a hawk. Feeling a bit creeped out, you went into the lobby.

Only then did she drive away. What a strange woman.

You sighed and trudged to the lift, pressing the button and resting your forehead on the cold, metallic panel. Well. There goes your only contacts in the city, they're all not good for you.

You didn't even get to know Mercedes's number, so until she texts you first, you're completely alone.

The lift opened to reveal no one. As usual. You don't think you've seen your neighbors yet, thinking they're either avoiding you, extremely busy, or extremely reclusive. Or living in an entirely different timezone.

When you reached your room, you decided to boot up your computer. While waiting for it to be functional, you did something else; preparing the things you need for a relaxing bath and boiling some water for tonight's five-star dinner: instant noodles.

You spent the night researching Mercedes, only searching her first name predictably bringing up results of the luxury car brand with the same name. But as soon as you searched for Mercedes Maciovelli, you began learning a lot about her.

She is the heiress of a very successful, multi-billion conglomerate company. Her family owns more businesses than you can count in two hands, they're also huge and famous companies. Banks, grocery stores, and even planes. It's scary how her family possesses this much power. That was such a silly thing for her ex to say, that if it wasn't for him, she would have been in poverty. Maybe it was just the heat of the moment.

However, she is no stranger to paparazzi as she frequently mingles with high-profile celebrities, gets into physical altercations, and goes wild in nightclubs. She is nothing like what was expected of her as someone who grew up in "old money". She's associated with words like "bitchy", "fiesty", "trashy" and "Messy". Whereas her peers barely have any information available about them online, they stay out of trouble and act too elegant for the paparazzi and tabloids to take any interest.

The most interesting bit about Mercedes was her dating life. Your eyes bulged out of your skull, seeing the seemingly unending list of boyfriends she had over the years. It's almost like she has a new one every month, but there are never repeats. Articles, gossip pieces, and smear forums about Mercedes are just so prevalent, that you think you're getting a cramp on your finger by just scrolling your mouse.

In the end, you're sick of seeing the public bash the blonde. It gets old and you're becoming tired. Perhaps aging has already caught up to you, but you cannot stay up past 12.

You decided to shut your computer off and head to bed.

It's been a few days since that party. Your "friends" kept texting you, trying to get you to join one more of their trespassing escapades. You gave them excuses upon excuses because you're not interested in such a lifestyle.

"Aw, don't be such a lame-o," Drawled one of the girls as she shook your shoulder. "Come on, it'll be fun! You had fun!"

The other girls continued egging you on in this expensive cafe. You were already uncomfortable meeting them here, as you can barely afford the cheapest of their pastries. At least the ambiance looks amazing in photos. If only you owned a digital camera...

You let out a nervous chuckle as you tried to decline as much as you could without offending them.

"There's another one tonight! You should totally come with us, I got like, the routes and everything already!"

"Yeah, think of the cute guys that's going to be there!"

"OMG, I heard Retro Rhymes are going to be there!"

"Really!? The rapper!?"

You sighed as they chatted amongst themselves. You silently picked at your muffin with your fork, that was the cheapest thing on the menu and the price was enough to give you eight of these back home.

Eventually, they must have forgotten your existence. Because they continued talking until they left the building. Not saying a bye or sparing a glance in your direction. Leaving you to sit at your table alone and brooding.

Well. You shouldn't expect much when it comes to friendships here. Many people come to the city solely to make money and have fun, after all. Not so much finding true, lifelong connections.

You took a sip of your black coffee. Again, the cheapest thing you could get from there. You couldn't even afford sugar or milk with it.

Suddenly, a manicured hand slammed a cup onto your table, shocking you and making you accidentally spill some of your drink onto your blouse.

"You should try this, it's so good. Way better than your boring-ass black coffee, I bet." You recovered from your initial shock to crane your head up to see Mercedes staring down at you from above, her soft, golden hair falling to your face.

You greeted her, asking what she was doing here.

"I could ask the same of you, seeing that you're pretty broke. But I saw how you still hung out with those sluts even after I told you not to." She cocked an eyebrow as an unimpressed look crossed her face.

Today, she wears a simple, lacey crop top and a pair of low waisted jeans. You got to know that she had her belly button pierced.

You sighed once more, burying your face in your hands. You told her you don't have a choice, it's a cold world out here and you need someone to fulfill that human need for socialization. Now that you have calmed down, you decided to take a better look at the drink she gave you.

It's a tall, plastic cup with a dome cover. It's an ice-blended, creamy mocha with chocolate syrup drizzled on the sides of the cup. It has a healthy dollop of whipped cream on top and a thick straw is sticking out of its opening.

"Um, hello? You have me." She moved away from you and took a seat next to you, she ordered the same thing. Mercedes shook it around before taking a sip. "You don't need them anymore, I'll be showing you the ropes."

You thought about it for a while. There is definitely a non zero chance that she will play you like a fiddle, but it's much better to have someone high up there in the hierarchy. Even though she isn't necessarily a mature businesswoman yet, you would still have a better chance to brush shoulders with relevant people. Not... Partygoers.

So then, you agreed. Picking up your cup and taking your first sip.

It was tooth-rotting. It was good, but you knew if it wasn't for sugar, this cup would not even be filled to half. The sheer sweetness of the treat made you grimace and pucker.

"What? Don't like it?" She asked, looking bored.

You said it was nice, but a bit too sweet.

"That's the point. I like it sweet." She took another sip from her drink. "Keeps me full for hours."

You... Don't think that's how it works. Isn't it usually the opposite effect? Whatever.

For the next few hours, you and her chat about almost everything and anything. Ranging from each other's histories, to each other's interests, to oddly philosophical questions and personal views on things. There were quite a few differences between you and Mercedes- obviously so, as she was raised by the uber rich and you were raised by... Your guardians, but you liked how she kept her mind open and was non-judgemental about you.

It was refreshing, really. Someone you could somewhat be real with, unlike your previous set of friends where you had to put on the most guarded mask in order not to feel like a pathetic lowlife around them.

You were curious about her dating habits, but you think it's rude to ask about it this early on in the friendship. Plus, it never came up, so you decided to save that question for another day. You bet if she's willing to open up, it will take more than just a few hours.

It's getting late, you should leave.

So you stood up, secretly in disbelief at how you finished the entire thing of diabetes. You told Mercedes that you have work tomorrow and you're going to need to leave soon.

She frowned. "Boo. Boring."

You said that you have to be "boring", you don't have her type of money.

"And it's literally just six in the evening. It's not like it's six in the morning or something." She huffed.

You said you have been in this cafe for seven hours.

"They don't close til 10."

Still, you have to get back home. You're tired.

She stuck her tongue out at you.

"Fine. But I'm driving you home."

You said there isn't a need for her to do that, you could take the bus.

"Let's go, you need your beauty sleep." She ignored you and grabbed you by the arm, pulling you along with her so quickly that you struggled to keep up.

Weeks would go by and you would meet Mercedes every Sunday in a different cafe of her choosing. And these meetings would increase in frequency each week, to a point where you were eating all three meals with her daily. She would always foot the bill and refused to let you pay for anything, talking about how you're so poor, that you're probably fighting rats for the scraps at the bottom of the dumpster. It's an absolute win for you; no cooking involved and you haven't eaten instant noodles for months now.

The five girls you originally started off with seem to lose interest in you, they never texted or called you again. And when you did bump into any of them, they would pretend not to know you.

It's extremely obvious that they're avoiding you for some reason, maybe it's because they've seen you buddying up with Mercedes: one of their sworn enemies and one of the most feared figures in this city.

It's... Surprisingly sad. Knowing that the friendship was doomed from the beginning didn't change the feeling of isolation and hurt in you. But at least you gained something that resembled a friend.

Mercedes would gradually increase the frequency of her texts and calls, hitting you up whenever she's bored out of her mind.

"Stop working letz go shopping"

"U r SO going blind in ur 30s"

"nerd :-P"

"im boreddddddddddddd"

"go clubbing with moiiii"

"letzzz goooo"

"stop ignoring me :-("

These were just some of the few text messages you would frequently receive, blowing up your phone even when you're in a meeting. You would usually need to turn it off entirely to keep yourself quiet.

But yes, you would go shopping with her. Mercedes seem to have a kick out of spoiling you with clothes, jewelry and other things you can only dream to buy.

You didn't like trying on clothes, because Mercedes would barge into your changing room however and whenever she liked.

"What's the big deal? We're both girls." That was what Mercedes would say when she slips into the cubicle, while you're mid-change without any warning. Of course, you would react negatively to that, especially since you don't know her that well.

In the end, though, you would just give up and let her come in. It's not like you could stop her and she isn't doing anything too weird... Aside from her vaguely longing stares at your partially or completely unclothed body. She would almost be in a trance, staring unblinkingly for long periods of time until you snap your fingers in front of her face. She just claims that you're just too hot for anyone to handle.

Mercedes would contact you via your phone, asking if you would want to go clubbing with her, or if you would want to be her plus one to an event. And each time, you would say no. And each time, she would whine about how lame you are but never pushed too far.

A temporary boyfriend would take your place, only for her to break up with them the next day and appear in another tabloid for some scandalous fighting or dating. When you asked her about it, she would get moody and irritable. She would rant about her feelings and problems with the world at large, finding the dating pool now repulsive and general standards insanely low.

"Ugh! Can you believe that he said that to me?"

You would have to nod, it would end her ranting faster. It's always the same phrase over and over again, with slight variation.

"I wish men were just like you, I would find it so fucking easy to commit to a guy. But they're not, so I rather shit my hands and clap. Oh my god, he was so pathetic and gross."

You could recite her words at this point, you got it the first time that she wishes she could date a male version of you. Mercedes didn't have to repeat that every single time you and her met up.

For her sake and yours, you pray hard that she finds what she's looking for. You don't know how much more of her repetitive complaints you can take.

All your other attempts to network and make connections fail. As soon as any of them knew you were Mercedes's "bestie", they would either run for the hills or become actively hostile toward you. She has made a lot of enemies and you don't think she has any girlfriends... Only orbiters or those who tried to get her approval but secretly hated her guts. Or die-hard fans who don't see her as a human, but as an object, whether for better or for worse.

She kept them around, just because she could benefit from them. Mercedes would bring them along to some of your many shopping sprees with her just so they could carry heaps of heavy bags for the two of you. While you and her get to enjoy the day, completely unburdened.

It unsettled you how she treated them like lowly servants, or even more degradingly so, like dogs. And not like one of her spoiled Pomeranians, but mutts that are bred to work and live off scraps of attention. You could be having a spa day at the city's finest specialist, sipping on complimentary champagne, and having your hair done with products that you cannot even pronounce; Mercedes would make her lackeys wait outside. Yet, they appear happy about this treatment from her. Eagerly following Mercedes and by extension, you, wherever you go.

It didn't matter who you tried to befriend, Mercedes's opinion of them would remain constant: They're all two-faced liars who are out there to kick you when you're down. It never changed despite never even meeting them or you made them up. She's fiercely protective of you, and always assumed the worst of everyone, even her own relatives when they tried being cordial with you.

Of course, the friendship has blossomed to the point where you would have a slumber party at her multi-million mansion every Friday. You wouldn't even need to bring anything, she would have everything ready for you; clothes, toiletries, hairdryers- anything you need to survive from day to day, you would have a more luxurious version of it. She definitely has an affinity for bling, as the tops that Mercedes provides always have rhinestones decorating them.

You were living in opulence, a lifestyle that can only be seen on TV, in magazines, or in history books. It's jarring and almost dreamlike how you got to experience such things just by chance. You didn't have to work hard for it, you just need to endure a spoiled blonde's clinginess to receive all these. What a steal. You had maids and butlers that would await your every order, personal chefs to whip up something delicious in a second, and hunky pool boys to ogle at when you tan with her outside.

You just wished that Mercedes wasn't so touchy, though...

"Like, sunburn isn't cute. C'mon, don't be such a hardass, turnover." You would groan and do as you were told, laying flat on your stomach and adjusting your sunglasses. Mercedes would then squeeze a handful of white sunscreen on her palm, and begin rubbing onto your exposed back and legs.

She would always take her time running her hands over your skin, sensually massaging from the base of your neck and down to your bum. Her flesh would glide against yours, reaching all that she could touch and occasionally squeezing your cheeks down south. Whenever you complained, she would say:

"What? Not my fault you have a bubble butt. No one can resist giving a squeeze." And continues fondling you under the guise of preserving your youthful skin from the harsh sun rays. You would sigh, slumping your head down as Mercedes continued doing whatever she wanted. It's her house, her money, and her influence after all. You're just riding on it for free. And it's not like anything is going to be too weird, you and her are both girls!

"Okay, I'm done. My turn." She would hand you the bottle of sunscreen and flip herself over. It's undeniable that she has a body that even Aphrodite would be envious of, thanks to a combination of genetics, her lifestyle, and other procedures. Mercedes does put in work in her personal gym, toning her body and alluring men everywhere. Her bikini would leave very little to the imagination, but it made sense why she needed much more sunscreen.

"Make sure to get it on here too." She would purr, playfully wiggling her plump rear. This would usually prompt an eye roll from you and a giggle from her.

She's soft to the touch. And you knew that not because you would have to smear sunscreen on her, but because she would often cuddle with you. It didn't matter what you were doing, you could be stretching in her living room, and she would wrap her arms around your waist. You could be curled up on her fluffy sofa, watching a sitcom, and she would crawl up all over your space. You could be sleeping, and you would wake up to her being the big spoon. And she would have the audacity to whine about how you ruined her sleep by moving around.

But you must admit, she is comfortable to cuddle with. Especially when you rest your head on her voluptuous breasts, allowing yourself to sink into them and inhale her sweet, floral perfume. It would be heaven squared when she would rake her long, acrylic nails through your hair. Mercedes would let you twirl with her golden strands, playing with them between your fingers.

You think, maybe it's because she's just lonely and a big fan of physical touch. It must be exhausting to constantly think every single person in the world is out there to get you. But does she have to be so... gross?

"I just want it." Mercedes would whine, demanding that she wants your drink. You would ask her why, you also drank out of this straw anyway.

"I didn't like my order."

You pointed out that you ordered the same exact thing as her.

"They didn't make it right!"

You asked her what made her think they made yours right.

"They just do!"

You said it's just going to be the same thing. Why not throw hers away and order another one, seeing that she has near infinite amount of money?

She would groan in frustration and stomp her heels on the ground. "It tastes better after you drank from it, okay!? I don't know what it is about your... fucking saliva that makes something so mediocre, tastes so good. Now, gimme!" Mercedes would snatch it out of your hands and swapped it with her one.

You drank more than half of yours while Mercedes barely touched her cup. Well, more for you, you guess. At least everyone is happy.

This habit of hers would extend to utensils, you knew she would purposely drop her dessert spoon just to eat from yours. Mercedes would steal your clothes, claiming that your outfits are always cuter than hers, and she's jealous.

But she chose and bought you these clothes...?

You were so used to her antics, that one day, Mercedes gave you a new brand of gum to try. However, when it touches your tongue, you immediately grimaced as it was the most atrocious flavour ever.

"Whaatt? Are you fucking serious? That's like, my favourite flavour!" She would look at you in disbelief. And you would look at her in disbelief, because this was the first time seeing her buying this brand.

You told her that you wanted to spit it out, it's awful.

"Don't waste it!" She hit you on the arm. "Spit it in my mouth." Mercedes would part her lips wide and bring her face close to yours.

Without thinking, you expelled the partially chewed up candy into her orifice... which she gladly accepted and began chewing on it. Sucking whatever flavour that was left on, including your fluids.

"What are you talking about?" You could hear her obnoxious chews between words. "It tastes fine, you're so dramatic."

Upon realizing what you just did, you would shudder in disgust. Quickly walking away as if you're trying to run from the memory.

Soon after, Mercedes would permeate through every aspect of your life. It seems like she had a chat with her parents about offering you a job at one of their firms. A high standing one at that, too.

You obviously accepted it and resigned from your previous post. Now, THIS is what you're talking about. A prestigious job with unbelievable benefits and tasks that doesn't seem too hard for you to do. It's everything you wanted you achieve, ever since you arrived at the city.

Well, minus the fact that your bestie who got you this position would intrude your office every chance she gets and talk your ear off.

"Ughhh... this is so boring... Let's ditch this place and go somewhere fun." She would rest her head on your shoulder while shaking you by the arm.

You said you can't. You have work to do.

"Says who?"

You said your boss.

"Who's your boss?"

For the fifth time, you told her the name of your supervisor. But instead of complaining, she would storm out of your office. At first, you thought she would leave you alone, maybe she's tired of bugging you and got the hint that you're a responsible adult with adult jobs.

But, ten minutes later, she would be barrelling in with your boss in tow. She had him in a very unsavoury grip, her hands tightly clutching his sleeve.

"Tell her!" She demanded.

"Y-you're free to go. Someone else can cover for you."

Your eyes would widen, asking if this will affect your pay.

"Not at all. Don't worry, I will have this... agreement in writing. Please e-enjoy the rest of your day." He would then quickly excuse himself from the room, avoiding Mercedes's fiery glare.

You looked at her. How could she just do that?

"My Dad owns this company, duh. Anyways, less talk, more walk." She hooked her arm around yours and dragged you out of the office.

It's as if her father was paying you just to babysit his bratty, adult daughter. You barely get to do anything for the company! You don't even know what you were hired to do in the first place anymore.

It gets extremely suffocating being her best friend, you don't know anyone around except her. The staff in her mansion is always rotating, so you wouldn't see the same face twice. You barely remembered your supervisor's names, let alone any colleagues'. All your free time is robbed by Mercedes, she saturates every single second of your life. You don't remember not seeing Mercedes's pretty face on the daily, yet it's astonishing how she would get the paparazzi on her for constantly dating a new roster of boys each season and getting into catfights with other women. Where does she find the time to do that?

It's rubbing on you, now you begin to crave a boyfriend. A 'boy toy', as Mercedes would call it.

It shouldn't be too hard, you know that you're good-looking; you have the clothes, the hair, the makeup and you can always steal from your filthy rich best friend. Your bank account is a little chubbier now thanks to Mercedes. If you just put yourself out there, you're sure boys will flock to you.

But you shouldn't tell this to Mercedes, you get the vibe that she would be jealous that you're stealing the spotlight. You aren't trying to do at all, you're just curious to know what it's like to live like Mercedes for once.

So you had to do it secretly. You would always decline her requests to join her clubbing, preferring to favor sleep over drug-fuelled parties. But recently, you would cover up your eyebags with concealer just so you could introduce yourself to the market. It goes without saying, that you're not tagging along with Mercedes, you went on your own and told not a single soul.

And it was a success! You have never received so many free drinks from men before, you even witnessed some of them fighting over you, all physical and mock-macho. It was hilarious and flattering, but the other girls would avoid you like the plague and shoot you nasty looks your way. It's much worse than you expected it to feel, you feel... rejected, alienated, and ugly. Was this how Mercedes felt? Is that why she thinks all other women are out for her blood? Well, you understand it now. And some of the boys would be really creepy towards you, it doesn't feel so good on the soul knowing the people who defended you from those weirdos are also creeps themselves. They just wanted a piece of you as if you were just a slab of meat in a cage of hungry wolves.

Though, it would be a big, fat lie to say you didn't feel free. You felt the freedom that died on the day Mercedes took you under her wing. It tasted so sweet, you wanted more and more. You were so addicted, that you took illicit substances just to keep you awake for longer, to party until the sun rises.

You were leading a double life: As Mercedes's goody-two-shoes bestie in the day, a bad girl gone wild at night. Make out with whoever you want to, drinking as much as you want and shaking yourself to the beat of the music until you drop.

You knew Mercedes was suspecting something was up, but at this point, you give no shits. This is your life, and you get to live it.

It didn't last long, though.

There was one night in particular; you remembered that they had a massive disco ball in the middle of the ceiling, reflecting every ray coming out of the projector. It was deafening, the smell of booze and sweat nauseated you but you didn't notice. The DJ was bopping his head to the rhythm and scratching records using his fingertips. The patrons were doing their own thing, some were dancing like no tomorrow, some were locking lips and some were snorting lines. It was one of those types of parties, the one where you first met Mercedes. Except this time, you successfully snuck in without your ex-friends and finally found the core of the rave.

Your hair was frazzled and you had a few wardrobe malfunctions, but why should you be bothered by that? It's not like everyone around you were dignified at all, you blend in and that's all that matters to you.

The details were fuzzy, but you remembered wondering what it was like to make out with a woman instead. Men had pretty rough lips and they smelled like crap. Why not experiment? You're here anyways, and no one is going to recognize you- whatever happens in this mansion, stays in this mansion. Plus, you already have a willing participant next to you, who has been hitting on you all night.

Later in the dark, you became bold from a mix of alcohol and whatever glowing pill you took from a giddy stranger. You pulled her aside to somewhere secluded, the two of you were clearly hot and bothered, deeply eager to explore each other's bodies. Nothing else matters in this moment, other than to satisfy each other's needs.

She pulled you in by the neck, pressing her full lips against yours. And you were correct, it was soft, fragrant, and delicious. A thousand times better than kissing stinky boys. You closed your eyes and melted into her touch, sinking deeper and deeper into the kiss. She's on top of you, straddling your hips and your hands are rubbing all over her body. The woman, who you didn't even know the name of, trailed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbones. Her slender fingers began to stray from your chin and roam downwards until it was dangerously close to the hem of your panties. You let out a muffled moan as she let her tongue taste every corner of your mouth, neither of you could speak. And neither of you wanted to, words weren't necessary.

However, your ecstasy was cut short when your lover was yanked backward. Confused, your eyes immediately shot open at the first taste of emptiness... only to witness something scaringly horrific.

"Fucking slut! How fucking dare you, how fucking dare you touch my girl!" Shrieked Mercedes as she had an iron grip on your lover's hair with one hand, and another was whaling on her non-stop. She was screaming in terror as your best friend inflicted as much damage as she could on her face. Scratches, punches, cuts, she had done it all. Mercedes pulled clumps of hair out from her victim's scalp and dodged every attempt of her to fight back. She was fast, fueled with the purest distillation of rage you have ever seen, mascara streaked down her face as she shouted until her voice was hoarse. Blood splattered onto her light-hued hair, her outfit was ruined and no doubt, a thousand dollars worth of acrylic nails were ripped from her nailbed as she threw brutal punches.

You panicked, trying to break the fight up but Mercedes was entirely immersed in anger that she didn't care that she lost her natural nails along with her false ones. She's also bleeding, scarlet painted her fingertips, knuckles, and up to her wrist as she went on tormenting your lover with more hits and pummels. At this rate, Mercedes might just kill her!

You attempted to restrain her, but she was too strong, easily overpowering you just so she could beat your lover to death. There was so much hatred simmering in her heart for this one stranger, this one woman you're sure she's never met. Why!? Why her!? Why would Mercedes attack her unprovoked!?

The fight, which was one-sided ended a few minutes later when your lover stopped moving and was covered in gruesome welts. Her eyes were swollen shut and there was blood pooling around her from her nostrils, scalp, and lips.

"You."

Growled Mercedes. She was breathing heavily and all her strands were out of place. Tears were flowing down her bloodshot eyes as she trembled.

You were speechless, you quivered in fear as you looked on. In the end, all you could mewl out was a meek "Why?"

This caused her to wail, scream, and sob. She brought her injured fingers to her head and gripped her hair, letting out all her frustrations and agony before composing herself enough to form a coherent sentence.

"Fuck you, Whore! Fuck you!" She pointed at you, her shrill voice was making your ears hurt, but you're glad she wasn't biting them off instead.

You said you didn't understand what was going on, why was she so upset.

"You were into girls all along! I-I-" She sniffled, ungracefully wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. Soiling her face with her own blood.

"I'm... in love with you..." Her voice quietened as it wavers, Mercedes choked on her own tears as she confessed. "Why didn't you tell me...?" She gasped erratically as she cried. Suddenly, there was a spike in her emotions. "Why didn't you fucking tell me?!"

You took a few more steps backward as she lost control over herself again, she had to kick your already unconscious lover with her heels to calm herself down.

"I wanted you! I..." She let out one last bloodcurdling scream before lunging at you.

You tried evading her, but she was just too experienced in this. Within seconds, her hands are tightly wrapped around your neck; Choking them until blood rushes up your head. You clawed and clawed on her hands, but nothing worked. She was determined to kill you.

She gnashed her teeth as she choked the life out of you, her salty tears rolled down her cheeks, taking some concealer along with it showing that she also had severe dark bags under her eyes.

You started seeing spots, and your thinking became redundant as your brain shuts down from the lack of oxygen. Is this it? Your death? Killed by a nepotism baby with her bare hands?

You took one last look at her face, it was filled with pain and anguish.

You regretted agreeing to come to the city.

She was yearning for you, ever since she bought you that first drink. If you knew the depth of her twisted, obsessive love she harbors for you, running for the hills would have been your immediate reaction.

Mercedes cried herself to sleep almost every night, suffering from a heartache that could never heal itself as long as she knew you were straight. She knew that you would never share her feelings, because she was taught that everyone sees lesbians as freaks of nature.

She tried distracting herself with parties, boys, booze, and coke. But nothing worked, all she ever thought about was you, you, you. She loves you and wanted nothing but to be your lovely wedded wife. Oh, how she longs for a life where it's just you and her. And no one else.

Mercedes couldn't let you go, no way in hell. That's why she would scare off anyone who got too close to you for her liking, that's why she sent out hit after hit to eliminate the competition. Because if she can't have you, no one can.

But now...

"Sit."

You frowned, refusing to budge from your spot.

Mercedes pouted, she cupped your cheeks and stared deep into your eyes.

"Bad puppies don't get treats, you don't want to be a bad puppy, do you, baby?" She cooed in a babyish tone but with heavy condescension.

You couldn't speak, because there was a ballgag between your lips. Yet, you stayed still in defiance.

She narrowed her eyes at your disobedience.

"That's how you're gonna be, huh." Mercedes lets go of your face and sticks her hand into the pocket of her bathrobe. You heard a click, and soon you felt insane vibrations between your legs, it's coming from the vibe taped to your clit!

You let out a muffled yelp as the stimulation made you buckle to your knees, and eventually, you were on the floor, helpless as your hands were tied up behind your back. Juices leaked from your slit and onto the cold, smooth floors.

"Good girl~" She praised in a sing-song voice. Mercedes happily clapped her hands together.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you were about to be overcome by pleasure, but... the device suddenly stopped moving. Leaving you incomplete and agitated.

You whined and whimpered, wanting your rightful climax but Mercedes only smiled at your pathetic, squirming state.

"Aww, what's that? Puppy wants to cum?" You feverishly nodded, face burning from the degradation.

"Well, only good puppies get their pussy eaten. Are you a good puppy?" She rested her hands on her knees.

You nodded and let out a muffled yell.

"Roll over."

You tried your best to do that, but the frigid floor is stimulating you further.

"Play dead."

You lay still for a few seconds, your sex is still throbbing in arousal.

"Good girl, good girl!" She praised, giggling at you.

You whimpered, having tears bead from the corners of your eyes. You need that release so badly, it's starting to hurt.

"Mmm... you're so fucking hot..." She whispered as she slowly got down to the floor, slipping her hands between your inner thighs to remove the toy. Her pupils are dilating at the sight of your naked, dripping crotch. "I can't wait to eat you out. You always taste so fucking delicious." Mercedes brushed your puffy lips with her fingers.

"Open your legs."

She didn't have to tell you twice, you granted her full access.

"Good girl..." She purred before dipping her head down to drag her wet, pink muscle over your pussy.

You writhe as she tongue fucks you, lapping up everything and not letting a drop of your sweet, sweet nectar go to waste.

You would spend almost every waking second being 'trained' by Mercedes. Her treats are sex and the overstimulation of your pussy until you faint. You never knew that she was such a nymphomaniac, or maybe she just is that for you. Mercedes just couldn't get enough of your essence, so you're subjected to such treatment.

Well, at least you don't have to work anymore. You get to eat five-star meals and sleep in a mansion, and you get to binge-watch all your favorite shows guilt-free. All you had to be was Mercedes's pet and have her eat you out whenever she wants.

Her beloved Pillow Princess; was embossed in gold, on the hot pink collar around your neck.

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vanteguccir · 4 months

Text

TikTok trends | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: 4 times that Y/N and Matt made a couple's trend on tiktok.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by @paytonthereader

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

PS.: I made a part 2!

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Just like Matt worked with YouTube making videos with his brothers, Y/N worked with TikTok. She created her account on the app in 2019, and from 2020, she lost her camera shyness slowly and started posting her own videos, creating content for her favorite niche: makeup and skincare.

When Matt moved to Los Angeles, the two met in an unexpected and cliché encounter in line at a bakery on a rainy morning. Their friendship grew as quickly as it began, and feelings were gradually cultivated. With both of them working on the Internet and being public figures, it was easy to understand each other and fit in their crazy schedules.

It didn't take much. The two quickly found themselves in a tangle of reciprocal feelings. Matt felt proud that he was brave enough to make the first move, and soon, the two were in a beautiful relationship that blossomed very quickly and lightly.

Because they both work with social networks, they decided not to keep their love a secret, and what surprised them most was how the fans supported them together, it was rare that they encountered comments from haters.

With that, in all of the Sturniolo Triplets' YouTube videos and Y/N's TikToks, there were thousands of people begging them to make more content together, being called "the power couple" by both fandoms.

That's why Y/N always found a way to convince Matt to do some couple trends on TikTok with her, and despite pretending he didn't like it, she knew how much he adored making mini videos with her, showing to the world how much he loved her.

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Y/N fitted her phone on the phone holder attached to the right side of the front windowscreen of Matt's car - which was there precisely because she loved recording herself doing makeup there, being the passenger princess she was -, lowering the brightness of the screen so that the boy couldn't see the TikTok camera open.

She adjusted the position of the device so that it covered the two front seats, pressing the red button to start recording, smiling slightly to the camera before looking away.

Matt didn't notice her movements, too focused on the sight in front of him, driving slowly through the McDonald's drive thru line, waiting for their turn. His left hand held the steering wheel, while his right hand rested on Y/N's thigh, caressing her covered skin gently.

Y/N's calm playlist played softly through the speakers, creating a comfortable atmosphere for both of them.

The girl knew that she was going to make the order that day, knowing that Matt was feeling too anxious to talk to a stranger, so her plan would work.

"Do you already know what you will want, baby?" The girl asked. Her tone was low as she turned her upper body to the left, focusing her eyes on the brunette.

"Just some nuggets, baby. And Coke, please." He asked, looking at her quickly before returning his eyes to the cars in front of them, receiving a nod from the girl.

It didn't take long and soon it was their turn. Matt rolled down the window on the driver's side door, smiling kindly at the attendant before turning to his girlfriend, waiting for her to start the order.

Y/N leaned to her left, getting closer to Matt so the attendant could hear her clearly.

"Hi, good evening! Can I have a cheeseburger with fries and a Diet Coke, please?" She spoke her order, waiting for the attendant to select it before starting Matt's. "And my husband will just have a big portion of nuggets and a Coke, please."

Y/N tried to capture Matt's reaction without letting on that she was expecting something, watching him surreptitiously from the corner of her eye, pressing her lips into a thin line when she saw him smile big, lowering his face to hide the red color that took over his cheeks.

His hand - which was still on the girl's thigh - squeezed the flesh lightly, and Y/N could swear his fingers were shaking.

After receiving confirmation from the attendant and paying for them, Matt rolled up the window and gently accelerated to get back in line.

When the car in front stopped again, he finally turned to Y/N, a huge smile on his face as his eyes glistened with tears.

"I'm your husband?" He asked, his voice coming out weak from the emotions he felt, his cheeks burning with redness while he felt his heart accelerating.

"Not yet, but one day you will be." Y/N said in a low voice, smiling equally big. She brought her left hand to Matt's right, caressing the soft skin, holding herself back from pulling him into a hug and peppering him with kisses.

"I love you so much. So, so much." He muttered, moving closer and sealing his lips over Y/N's, closing his eyes and letting a happy sigh scape through his nose, a smile still on his mouth.

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Y/N placed her phone on the kitchen counter next to the stove so that the front camera was facing her and taking in as much information from the room as possible.

The girl was cutting some vegetables while preparing lunch for herself and the boys, wiping her hands on the dishrag before clicking on the screen, starting the recording.

"Baby!" She called from where she was, smiling quickly to the camera before lifting her chin slightly so that her voice echoed better. "Come here, I need a favor."

The sound of her and Matt's shared bedroom door opening sounded before light footsteps approached. Soon, the boy's image appeared behind Y/N as he walked closer to her.

"Hi honey. What do you need?" He spoke back, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend's waist and resting his chin on Y/N's right shoulder, sealing the area with his lips softly before noticing the phone recording them. "What are you doing?" Matt asked, his brow furrowed as his eyes focused on the image of the two hugging each other that stared back at him.

"I'm just recording a recipe." She lied quickly, lightly biting her bottom lip to hold back her laughter. She really didn't know how to lie to him. "Baby, can you go to the market for me? I need tomatoes to make sauce." Y/N asked, releasing the knife she was holding in her right hand and bringing it to Matt's head still on her shoulder, stroking his hair lightly, receiving a happy sigh in response.

The boy let out a sound of agreement, nodding his head before lifting it up, kissing Y/N's shoulder and her cheek, squeezing her waist one last time before taking some steps back.

"That's it, baby?" He asked as he felt his pants pocket with his right hand, checking if he had his wallet and car keys.

Y/N agreed, picking up the knife again and going back to cutting the vegetables.

"Alright, if you remember anything else, just text me. I love you, bye." Matt asked, turning around and starting to walk towards the stairs.

"Okay, thanks!" Y/N thanked him, smiling small when she heard Matt's footsteps stop abruptly. She looked up at her phone slightly, seeing her boyfriend turn around with a confused expression.

"I love you, bye." He repeated, watching her closely.

"Bye, honey. Drive safe." She added, trying to hide her smile as she turned her attention back to the vegetables.

Matt approached her again, positioning himself behind her body and tilting his head to the side so he could see her profile, his blue eyes running over her features.

"I love you." He repeated it a third time, this time slowly, as if he were speaking to a child.

"Okay." Y/N persisted, keeping her eyes on the vegetables, taking deep breaths to keep from laughing.

"Did I do something?" Matt asked, his right hand lightly grabbing Y/N's right arm and making her release the knife, turning her body so that she was facing him. "I'm sorry." He asked, his eyes scanning his girlfriend's face as a weight took over his gaze; he felt guilty despite not knowing what he had done.

"What? No, you didn't do anything." The girl shook her head, intertwining their fingers and looking at him in false confusion.

"But... that's not how it works, baby. I say, "I love you", and you have to say "I love you" back." Matt insisted, his brow furrowed as he tried to understand what was happening. "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

A sound of laughter escaped Y/N's throat, she couldn't keep pretending when seeing the confusion in her boyfriend's eyes, her heart warmed with the way he was trying to apologize and fix something he didn't do and that, in fact, didn't even exist. Matt remained watching her, feeling even more lost than before.

"I'm sorry, It's just a prank, baby. It's for a TikTok." The girl explained, pointing to her phone that was still recording them.

Matt rolled his eyes, sighing in relief before a smile took over his face.

"You're still going to give me a heart attack." He muttered, shaking his head. "Let's do it again then. I love you, bye." Matt repeated, still holding his girlfriend, who laughed lightly at his reactions.

"I love you more, my love." She finally responded, reaching forward and quickly sealing their lips. "Now go buy my tomatoes."

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Y/N held her phone with her right hand, the screen showing the TikTok camera open, with the audio already selected, just waiting to be started.

She was standing in front of the closet doors in her shared room with Matt. The lights were low, forming a comfortable atmosphere.

Her left hand held her favorite red lipstick from Kylie Cosmetics, with the lid off and the contents showing.

Her right thumb clicked the red button to start recording, the audio echoing through the four walls.

"Stay with me"

She applied one more layer of lipstick to her bottom lip, smudging it a little on purpose.

A masculine hand - Matt's - appeared in the camera view, cupping Y/N's chin firmly and wiping away the smudged lipstick with his thumb gently, pulling her face up so she was looking at him.

"I don't want you to leave..."

Y/N turned her phone slightly so the camera caught the two of them, Matt appearing at her side with his face and neck smeared with lipstick marks.

His face was facing hers, his blue eyes traveling from her eyes to her painted lips, a smirk appearing on his cheeks.

Y/N looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling her face take on a red color due to the intensity of his gaze, smiling shyly.

Matt pulling her face for a kiss was the last image captured on camera, before the TikTok ended.

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"Baby?" Y/N called out loud, her eyes briefly flicking to her phone, which had the TikTok camera open, already recording herself.

She was sitting on the couch in the living room, the television on in the background as her favorite series played.

"Yes, baby?" Matt responded from their bedroom, leaving the room seconds later and approaching the living room, stopping near the couch as he looked at his girlfriend, waiting.

"Do we have orange?" She asked, turning her face towards him, smiling small when she saw a confused expression appear in his eyes.

"The fruit? Hm, I guess so. We bought it last time we went to the market." Matt replied, resting his hand on the back of the couch, leaning his hips on the armrest.

"I really feel like eating an orange right now." Y/N continued, closely watching her boyfriend's reaction.

"Oh, I'll get you one, hold on." Matt responded quickly, turning around and walking over to the fridge, opening the door and reaching for the fruit from the fruit and vegetable drawer.

Y/N looked at her phone camera wide-eyed, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she smiled big, a reddish hue taking over her cheeks.

Just under two minutes later, Matt returned with a small bowl in hand, and Y/N quickly recognized it as her favorite bowl that had bee designs on it.

"Here, my love." He handed her the ceramic. Y/N took it and looked inside, seeing her orange not only peeled but cut so that she could eat it slowly and without getting her hands dirty.

Y/N pouted as her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you." Her voice was broken due to the amount of love she felt at that moment, looking up at her boyfriend.

"What is it?" Matt asked worriedly, sitting down next to her and pulling her close, laying her head on his right shoulder as he brought his head closer to hers, sealing his lips on her hair and exhaling lightly, smelling the soft smell of shampoo. "Why are you crying, baby?"

"I just love you so much."

"I love you more, silly."

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My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu

(If you want to be added to the taglist, comment here, please)

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pricelessemotion · 8 months

Text

poltergeists for sidekicks | E.M.

summary: [2.3k] the kids drag eddie to the halloween store where you happen to work.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, pining, eddie being a lovestruck idiot, r wears big prescription glasses and is described as having messy hair

a/n: happy halloween! here’s something i’ve been working on for ages just in time for the end of spooky szn! xoxo

masterlist

Eddie doesn’t hate Halloween.

He used to love Halloween. He likes autumn. He likes watching the leaves change colors. He can appreciate the novelty of a hot apple cider and a hay ride. Hell, ever since he was old enough to go trick or treating, he reveled in it. Free candy and all he had to do was put on a costume and say three magic words? Sign him up.

As he got older, he started to like Halloween for a slightly different reason. Don’t get him wrong, he still liked the free candy, but he liked the excuse to be someone else for a night. He liked how he could throw on a Michael Meyers mask and go door-to-door and be greeted with glee and sweets.

It does a funny thing to a kid’s self-esteem, being treated better when he’s wearing the face of a fictional serial killer.

Now, though, Eddie Munson is decidedly too old for trick or treating. He’s resigned himself to spending the holiday like it was any other day by spending the night in his room, playing guitar, and coming up with new campaign ideas.

Which is exactly what he was doing when three freshmen started pounding down the door of the trailer demanding entry. Within moments, they are practically on their hands and knees asking, nay begging, for the older boy to take them to get last-minute Halloween costumes.

“Aren’t you guys too old to go trick or treating?”

“This is why we need to go to the store! If we wear masks, no one will be able to tell how old we are, hence extending our years of candy collecting.” Dustin explains, matter of factly.

Eddie sighs, leaning back into the sofa, steepling his fingers together. “What’s in it for me?”

The three boys huddle together, conspiring in a manner that is not dissimilar to the way they plan their counterstrikes during Hellfire. They nod in sync, turning around so that Lucas is standing front and center, flanked by the two other boys.

“That one girl you like is working there.”

Eddie remains stone-faced, quipping sarcastically, “That’s very specific.”

Mike lets out an exasperated groan, threading his fingers through his hair before yanking at the ends in frustration. “Y’know, the weird one. Coke bottle glasses, messy hair, always holding a book?”

Lucas’ eyes widen. Dustin smacks Mike on the chest and the hollow sound rings out through the empty trailer. They all start talking over each other, with two of them berating the third for A. being insensitive and B. expecting a good outcome from said insensitivity.

Eddie wants to make a comment that your hair is not messy, it’s actually more voluminous. Besides, his hair is messy and he likes to think it makes him look badass. The glasses comment was a little unfair. Sure, the frames are a similar shade to the iconic green of the bottles of Coca-Cola. But the magnification was endearing, leaning more towards doe-eyed than bug. Unfortunately, Eddie did not consider that while he was observing you, someone might’ve been observing him.

The assurance of your presence is how Eddie ends up here, parked outside of a hardware store turned seasonal shop. He’s helping his friends. He’s supporting a local business and therefore contributing to the local economy! You being here is just a bonus.

A bell rings above them as he swings open the door, the motion setting off a scratchy pre-recorded cackle. He’s gotta hand it to whoever is running the store. They’ve gone out of their way to transform the dingy overhead fluorescents and worn-out linoleum into something that actually resembles an eerie boutique.

“Welcome in! I’ll be right witch you!” Your voice lilts out from the depths.

You appear out of the darkness, expertly weaving under fake cobwebs and pushing aside fanciful drapes that have no doubt been strung up precariously around the store to add to the ambiance. You’ve got a witch’s hat on, tall and black and pointy, which further explains the pun you greeted them with.

“How can I help you?” You smile brightly, adjusting your glasses.

The younger boys barely spare you a glance, just a chorus of we’re good! before running off to the other side of the store, where all of the costumes are located.

You barely blink at their rudeness. Whether that’s indicative of your experience in customer service or due to your generally sunny disposition, Eddie isn’t sure. You turn your smile and magnified gaze at him, “What about you?”

Eddie startles only slightly. He begins to peek over his shoulder as if there’s somebody else in the mostly deserted store that you could be talking to. What about him?

“Oh, I don’t need anything. I just came here with–” He gestures vaguely in the direction that the boys wandered off to. “The little shits that left me in the dust.”

You bark out a laugh, a small smile settling on your lips. “It’s sweet of you to help them out.”

Eddie only blushes in response, murmuring a quiet it’s nothing, scratching the back of his neck like he might find a switch that’ll make him remember how to talk like a normal human being.

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

You pick up a clipboard and a pen and start leisurely strolling down the decor aisle, making inconsequential markings on the paper. Whenever you come across gaps in the shelves you reach back into them, pulling the products to the front edge with a concentration that is quite adorable.

He’s definitely staring by now. Feigning interest in a skull-shaped candy bowl, Eddie scrambles for something, anything to keep the conversation going. “I’m surprised you’re not busier.”

“You just missed the afternoon rush.” You say, straightening a pair of plastic tarantulas that have gone askew. “Not too many people came today, though. I guess they realized that it’s so close to the holiday that the shelves would be picked over.”

“Really?”

You shrug, “I think by October 30th, most people figure if they’re gonna dress up, they’d rather just pull together something from their closets than spend money. We’re actually busier the day after Halloween because everything gets marked down and people want cheap candy.”

“Makes sense.” He nods. “So, I take it you’re a big fan of Halloween?”

Your smile is apprehensive as if you’re not sure if he’s making fun of you. Your fingers brush the brim of the witch’s hat. “What gave me away?”

He falls into step beside you, clasping his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest. “I just had a feeling.” Then, feeling much braver than usual, he adds, “I like your outfit.”

You look at him again, clutching the clipboard to your chest. For once, your eyes are leaning more towards bug-eyed. The black velvet dress has draped sleeves and a skirt that swishes with every step. Orange and black striped tights protect your legs from the inevitable chill that comes with October in Indiana. “You do?”

“I do.” He insists, “It totally adds to the magical vibe. If you told me that you were an actual witch and this was just something you do to pass the time I’d one hundred percent believe you.”

All apprehension has slipped off your face, replaced by a genuine smile that cracks open his chest. “Thanks…” You trail off.

“Eddie.” He supplies.

“Well thank you, Eddie. I’d tell you my name but I’m guessing I don’t have to.” You say, rubbing the plastic name plate on your chest.

Eddie does know your name, but it isn’t because of your name tag. He was far too proud to ask around for your name, and far too afraid of rejection to ask you himself. He’d been lucky enough to get a library book right after you. He’d pulled the weathered paper from the slip, seen your name at the bottom of the checkout card, traced the loopy letters with the pad of his fingers. It had definitely been more than a little pathetic.

Eddie coughs, clearing his throat, trying to maintain any semblance of nonchalance. “Do you have any plans for Halloween?”

Your face slowly lifts from the clipboard, twirling your pen between swift fingers polished in a deep burgundy. Directing your gaze at him, you peer through dark lashes and Eddie’s never been more thankful for the inventor of coke bottle glasses. The magnification allows him to see the spark of intrigue dancing across your pupils.

“I was just gonna stay home. Maybe help my mom pass out candy.” The implication of the last sentence seems to hit you. You look down again, scrunching up your nose. Eddie finds it endearing how your first instinct is honesty rather than anything else.

“Cool. That’s cool,” Eddie says in a manner that is decidedly uncool. He fiddles with his rings before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Actually, I was wondering if—”

Suddenly, Eddie feels stupid for getting lost in your eyes and not paying attention to his surroundings. Maybe then he would’ve noticed how the linoleum got ever so slightly softer under the soles of worn-out boots. He would’ve seen the cloaked figure looming in the alcove, waiting for some unwitting soul to step on the pressure plate.

Unfortunately, Eddie did not see any of those things. The poltergeist, or ghost, or whatever the fuck it is swings out. He stumbles backward, releasing a shriek that is so high-pitched, that he wonders if he should start tapping into his upper range. Maybe it would add more texture to Corroded Coffin’s Tuesday night sets.

Instinctively, his arms fly backward, as if to protect you. He stumbles right into you, and he’s sure that if you didn’t grab his waist from behind, you would’ve fallen right over. Unfortunately, the movement has both of you careening back into a shelf, sending bags of overpriced candy and shitty Halloween decorations tumbling to the ground in a cascade of all things creepy and corny. He quickly spins around.

“Shit, are you–”

“I’m so sorry!”

“I should’ve warned you–”

At that moment, chests heaving and hearts racing, you both seem to realize that your hands are still grazing Eddie’s waist. You spring apart, scrambling to clean up the display, haphazardly grabbing the fallen items and placing them back in their rightful places on the shelves. Among them is your hat, another casualty of the calamity.

“I should’ve warned you,” You say again, slightly out of breath. “That thing nearly scares me to death every other day.”

“It’s fine. I should’ve paid attention to where I was walking. It just added to the whole spooktacular experience.” He picks up the hat from the floor, dusting it off. “I think this belongs to you.”

You give a bashful smile, but instead of putting the accessory in your outstretched hand, he gingerly places it on top of your head. Your glasses have slid down your nose from bending over to clean up his mess, and his thumbs gently push the joints of the frames until they’re sitting in their rightful place.

“There,” He punctuates his statement with a resolute tug on your hat, making sure it’s securely on your head. “Perfect.”

You preen at him, eyes sparkling, before you cast them down at the floor. Dustin comes running around the corner, closely followed by Mike and Lucas. All of them are carrying armfuls of miscellaneous Halloween supplies, obviously alarmed at the clamor, but not alarmed enough that they didn’t take their sweet time coming from the opposite end of the store. Eddie takes advantage of your bashfulness and distinctly shoots them a look that says get the hell out of here. Dustin’s eyes dart between the two of you before they widen and his mouth forms a small oh. He sends Eddie an exaggerated wink, walking backward in order to not interrupt the private moment, dragging his two friends along with him.

“Thanks,” You smile at him. “For protecting me. I know who to bring with me if I ever want to walk through a haunted house.”

He gives a lopsided grin, “My pleasure.”

“Ahem.” You clear your throat, “Anyways, what are your plans for Halloween?”

This is it. This is the moment that Eddie has been waiting for since he put down his guitar and his notebook and opened the trailer door.

“That depends.” He clasps his hands behind his back, jutting his chin up in the air. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“I get off at four.”

“The Hawk is doing this continuous horror movie marathon. Maybe you would want to go?” Eddie’s fingers are practically vibrating with excitement. He nearly forgets the most important part. “With me? I mean— Only if you like horror movies, I just figured because I’ve seen you walking around with that Stephen King novel. NOT that I’ve been watching you or anything!”

You let out a small giggle. The fact that you’re laughing and smiling is a good sign, even if it is slightly at his expense. He decides to lean into self-deprecation, hoping it’ll seem more charming than desperate.

“I’d say I don’t scare easily, but I think we’d both know that’s a lie by now.”

You scribble something near the bottom of the paper on the clipboard, delicately folding it and ripping it off before placing it in Eddie’s palm.

“Well, I’ve heard horror movies are less scary if you have someone to hold your hand.”

It doesn’t even matter that a ghost animatronic essentially acted as his wingman. The note with your number on it sits heavily in his pocket, thumb tracing over looped ink. Even though it’s cold as shit, he embarrassed himself, and signs of the spooky season decorate every corner, Eddie has a smile that rivals even the best of jack-o-lanterns.

As Eddie turns off towards the dirt path that leads to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, the smile still hasn’t faded.

For once, the streets of Hawkins seem a little less haunted.

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished ♥️

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #mimi wrote ✍️#poltergeists for sidekicks

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luveline · 9 months

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I love Bombshell reader x Spencer so much !! But I wanna take it back to wayyy early days and see how they’d interact in season 1 or 2? Or maybe even how the Lila Archer situation would play out if she was around? Much love to you and you’re page and I understand if you don’t want to write this ask :)

tysm ♡ fem

Hotch, for the record, liked you for the open BAU position more than Elle. It's Gideon who's not fond of you. Your flirtatious attitude isn't conducive to teamwork, or something, as though you aren't a professional. Gideon just doesn't like sharing his genius protégé with you.

"I don't have to tell you to be on best behaviour?" Hotch asks.

"No!" you say, really, really meaning it. "When Greenaway gives up, I'll be waiting. Until then, I'm your faithful servant, I won't do anything to disrupt you."

You're not sure that Hotch totally believes you, but he ushers you off with a street cop to meet Reid and Morgan at the set of your stalkee's upcoming production. You're wide-eyed but eager —seeing the boys again never fails to make you happy, even if the setting is completely unfamiliar to you.

"Morgan!" you call lightly. He's easily recognisable, and he's been hitting the gym, a wall of tight muscle in his charcoal suit. "Hey!"

Morgan grins at you but raises a finger to his lips. You accept his pat on the shoulder and follow his line of sight. Spencer stands with a coke bottle in hand, talking to your stalkee, the gorgeous and illustrious Lila Archer. She's the new belle of Hollywood, and she's smiling at Spencer like he has a real chance. He should have a real chance. You know he's a priceless sweetheart, you just didn't realise other people could tell.

"What's he doing?" you ask, laying your shock on thick to hide the real insecurity. He doesn't even know you're here but he's breaking your heart. "I thought he had a little more loyalty."

"You don't mind sharing with me, do you?" Lila asks, taking Spencer's coke for a quick swig.

"No," he says immediately.

She passes him back his drink and unrobes, exposing the long, perfect lengths of her arms and legs before she walks a circle around him. He has stars in his eyes.

Morgan waits for her to take her place in the sand, swinging his arms over the desk. "Are you sharing with us, too?"

"Shut up," Spencer says, stopping short when he notices you at Morgan's heel. "Y/N. What are you– when did you get here?"

"I couldn't let you guys have all the fun." You cover Morgan's arm with a perfectly kept hand. "Hotch asked me to come. Didn't even have to beg! And now I get to spend time with my two favourite heavyweights."

"Funny," Spencer says.

"He's defensive today," Morgan assures you, his smile smug and catching.

You test the waters. "Not too defensive, I hope," you say, opening your arms.

Spencer tucks his coke bottle against his chest and hugs you obligingly. He's warm and he smells like coffee grounds, his hand wide as he pats your back.

"It's nice to see you," you say. Then, with less good intent, "I missed you, Dr. Reid. Did you miss me?"

"Don't," he says.

"I'm serious." You pull away from him, checking over his face. "You've been taking care of yourself, I can see. Where are your glasses?"

"I got contacts."

"And you look so good," you croon, rubbing your hand briefly down the front of his chest. You'll miss the glasses dearly.

Spencer laughs and grabs your wrist. You have to be careful with Spencer, because the very last thing you want to do is give him attention he doesn't want; the point of your affections isn't to make him uncomfortable, the opposite. He needs confidence. "You have the bone structure of a male model," you continue.

He rolls his eyes and moves you bodily out of the way by the hips, wandering off to who knows where. Morgan gives you a knowing look as he leaves, shaking his head at your flustering.

"What?" you mutter, pretending to watch the goings on of the director rather than meet his eyes, "I'm not made of stone."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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upsidedownwithsteve · 10 months

Text

Eddie Munson x fem!reader requested by anon 18+

Eddie loved his job. He loved sitting amongst the noise of the record shop, loved showing customers music, old music, his favourite music. He loved that he didn’t have to spend every night doing runs in the van, meeting up with shady characters in the dark parts of town, taking up the time he should’ve been spending with you.

He also loved that Magic Records' door was next to a shop that was dimly lit, a pink glow coming from the inside, velvet curtains in the windows and mannequins dressed in pretty lingerie. He also loved what that store kept on the back shelves. But every time he tried to coax you in after you met him during his lunch, you squeaked and backed away, too shy to even look at the sign above the door.

‘Satin and Lace.’

Eddie didn’t push, he would never. He didn’t laugh or make jokes, but he did ask if it was something you were interested in. A toy, maybe? Something small and discreet you could play around with. Eddie was the be all and end of all when it came to your sexual experiences and as happy as the boy was with that, he was eager to bring you out of your shell a little - if you’d let him.

So one day, when you were sitting in the front of his van with him, sharing a sub and some cherry coke, he asked if you’d be okay with him picking you something out. A gift, a surprise, as much a treat for him as it would be for you. And you’d nodded, cheeks hot to the touch and eyes on your lap, because as long as you didn’t have to walk through the doors of Hawkins most scandalous shop, you’d be fine with whatever.

Eddie hadn’t shown you what he purchased, in fact, he hadn’t said a word about it. But you’d seen him come home with a little red bag almost five days ago and nothing had come of it. Maybe he’d changed his mind, maybe he’d forgotten. And it had taken until he had you in just his shirt, stripped from the waist down and in his bed until you had the courage to ask.

He was hovering over you, careful not to crush you with his weight, kissing a line across your neck as his fingers slid in and out of you. He’d worked you up to take two, a slow build that felt like the start of summer, heat rolling over your skin as he sucked a bruise onto your throat, curled his fingers just right and stretched you open on them. It made you whine, clutching at his bare shoulders with your eyes clenched tight.

You couldn’t help it. Your mind was set on his teasing, how good he felt, it was wandering to dirty places, filthy thoughts that you usually were too shy to say aloud but Eddie whispered your name into your skin and it made you arch your hips, seeking more.

“Eddie?” You said his name in a soft sigh, like you were praising him more than asking a question. But when you tugged gently at his curls, Eddie moved back a little and peered down at you, concerned. “S’okay, I’m fine,” you promised before he could ask, before he dared take his fingers from between your thighs. “I was just— was just wondering? If you… if you ever…”

Maybe Eddie knew what you were going to ask, because he smiled, dimples and all as he pushed his fingers back into you, the slick there making obscene noises. You cried out for him, momentarily distracted before the boy was nosing at your cheek and asking, “wondering what, sweetheart?”

“Oh fuck,” you swore and Eddie grinned, always pleased when you let go like this, letting yourself say words you’d normally scold him for. “I was wondering - ohmygod - if you, if you bought… that thing?”

Eddie thought about teasing you, about dragging it all out and making you say it, making you ask for it. But he looked down at the way you were staring back at him so earnestly, brows drawn together from pleasure, lips swollen and pouty from the way he’d kissed you until you were sliding off your own shorts. So he smiled and nodded instead, ducking down to press a sweet peck to your lips for being confident enough to ask.

He hushed you as he slid his fingers from your entrance, soothing the emptiness away with a thumb on your thigh as he reached over to his bedside table drawer and pulled out a small, silver device. Much smaller than you’d imagined, bullet shaped and with a button on the end. You felt relief looking at it, even though you knew Eddie wouldn’t have bought anything that would have made you nervous. But still, your stomach flipped when the boy handed it to you.

“What do I do with it?” You asked shyly, feeling nothing short of small at having to ask. This wasn’t your forte. “I don’t know—”

“Hey, babe, baby,” Eddie eased your impending panic by moving back down to you, cotton sweatpants tented at the front as he leaned into the cradle of your hips but his kisses on your cheek were nothing short of sweet. “S’alright, yeah? Look,” he took the bullet from you and pressed the button, the little toy buzzing to life. “You just do what feels good, yeah?”

You tensed up as Eddie brought it to your chest, skimming it over a nipple that was hidden under his Metallica logo. You jerked slightly at the sensation, eyes wide and Eddie beamed. “How’s that feel?”

You nodded, lashes fluttering and sucked in a breath. “More powerful than I thought,” you laughed weakly and Eddie joined in.

He moved it down your sternum, down the line of your tummy and over your belly button, watching you intently as he pressed it to your folds, but avoided your clit. You whined, back arching up for him. “There’s my girl, hm? That feels good, huh, baby?”

You nodded again and lost yourself to the vibrations, the intense buzz across your skin that Eddie moved over your cunt, dipping into your slick to slide across your entrance. You moved your hips with him, gasping , making pretty little noises that Eddie wanted to bottle up and keep. You were clinging to him, writhing in his sheets under him and he let his head fall down so he could watch the way you spread your legs more, chasing his touch.

“Fuckin’ Christ, sweetheart, that’s so fuckin’ hot.” Eddie sat back on his knees, unable to help the way he palmed at himself, grabbing and squeezing his cock through his sweats. “Here baby, you try, yeah? I’ll help you, s’okay, don’t worry.”

Eddie handed you back the toy, still buzzing but now between two of your fingers. The boy was patient as you eyed it carefully before bringing it back between your legs. Instinctively, you pressed it against your clit, barely there touch that immediately had you tensing up and crying out. Your mind went a little hazy, your free hand reaching out blindly for your boyfriend as you squeezed your eyes shut. Eddie’s fingers found yours and he cooed at you softly, guiding your palm to tangle into his hair and he brought himself closer between your knees.

“Oh, shit, I know, I know,” Eddie whispered. He sounded as wrecked as you felt. “M’gonna make it even better, baby, ‘kay? Just want you to lie there and play with that pretty pussy like a good girl. Can you do that for me?”

You nodded weakly as you pressed the bullet closer to your clit, hips bucking against it, searching for Eddie’s touch. His fingers slid against you, hissing at the new wetness there, slick and crying out for his attention. Easier than ever, he pushed two thick fingers back inside of you, starting a slow drag in and out that made you see stars.

“I’m gonna come,” you choked out, an immediate reaction to him filling you up. “Ohmygod, Eddie—”

Eddie went back into Satin and Lace the next day with a box of chocolates for the surprised assistant behind the counter.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie baby blurb

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capricorn-season · 1 year

Text

Homophobia in drag

When I was a young boy, I loved spending the night at my grandmother’s house. There, I could stay up as late as I wanted, and in the morning, there would always be Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast. But the best part was raiding the closet in her basement, which was full of the gowns she had worn in the 1960s and 1970s – frilly pink and purple confections made of lace, chiffon and silk. I would put them on and watch The Golden Girls, sophisticatedly sipping Coke from a wine glass.

When I was nine, my dad bought a video camera, a giant monstrosity that my siblings and I struggled to balance on our shoulders while we filmed home videos. Alone, I’d prop the camera on the coffee table and record myself modelling various outfits, explaining to the camera why this plaid shirt went with these cargo shorts, or why this teal Starter jacket complemented these acid-washed jeans so perfectly. I captured on camera the dance I had painstakingly choreographed to Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch’s ‘Good Vibrations’.

As a kid, I followed my two older sisters around like a shadow, mimicking their mannerisms – the way they tucked loose strands of hair behind their ears when they were concentrating on their maths homework; the way they jutted their hips whenever they were talking to cute boys. Like them, I was a naturally athletic kid. My favourite sport was lacrosse, but I much preferred to play with the girls instead of the boys. The boys were quick to push and shove, and they loved to whack each other with their aluminium sticks. Girls relied more on their speed, their reflexes and the skills they’d honed to keep the ball securely cradled in the shallow mesh of their wooden sticks.

I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian community – most people would call it a cult. From kindergarten to the sixth grade, I attended the community’s tiny school. Because enrollment was so low, there was no in-crowd, no separate cliques of jocks and geeks. In retrospect, I’m sure my classmates and especially my teachers noticed my gender-nonconformity – all of my home videos prove that it was glaring – but it went largely ignored. All that mattered was that we were good Christians, that we loved Jesus and evangelised God’s Word to as many people as possible. When I learned about homosexuals in Bible class, or about AIDS (which we were told God had created to punish homosexuals for their sins), I didn’t think for a moment that I was one of them. Sure, my first real crush, when I was 11, had been on a boy – Elijah Wood, an actor about my age whose performance in the 1994 B-movie, North, had captured my heart. But at the time, before sexual maturity, I mistook the longing I felt for Elijah with the more sanitised desire to simply keep his company and be his best friend. I indiscriminately absorbed all of the lessons I learned about homosexuals, as if they were and would always be irrelevant to my life.

The summer after my sixth-grade year, my family left the community and we moved to a neighbouring town. I began seventh grade in a large public school, where there was definitely an in-crowd. My new classmates wasted little time informing me how unacceptable it was for a boy like me to behave the way I did – the way I enunciated my s-words, the way I brushed my auburn hair, which I had highlighted the previous summer with Sun-In. They called me a faggot, delivered me notes that said everyone knew my ‘dirty little secret’. They asked me frequently, ‘Are you a boy or a girl?’. Well, of course I was a boy, I would respond, trembling.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to sexually mature; I was soon developing crushes that inspired more than just a desire to keep a boy’s company. With horror, I realised that I might actually be what the kids were calling me – which, I knew in my bones, guaranteed me a tragically short life and a one-way ticket to hell. That, after all, was what the old form of homophobia entailed. Self-loathing.

To survive the onslaught, I defeminised myself. I lowered my voice, started wearing baggy jeans and sweatshirts, cut the highlights out of my hair, and replaced my Mariah Carey CDs with Nirvana. Soon, the fear and the anxiety became too much to bear, and the only refuge I found was in alcohol and drugs.

In high school, with each passing year, my drug use got worse. After graduation, I lasted one semester in college before dropping out. Two months later, at the age of 19, I had my first of several stays in a local psychiatric ward. I was delusional, addicted to drugs and suicidal.

It was during my second stay in the psychiatric ward that I was introduced to a 12-step programme, which was how I would eventually get sober in my early twenties. It was slow-going in the beginning of my sobriety to accept my homosexuality. I began to reconnect with the young boy I had once been, the boy whose interests expanded beyond what was typical for males. I experimented with bronzer and mascara, and got French manicures and pedicures.

Engaging in these behaviours felt liberating for a while, but eventually the novelty wore off. In fact, they started to feel performative. I realised I didn’t need those things to be my authentic self. My ideas, my voice, the way I treat other people – these are the things that make me the person I truly am.

In 2011, when I was 28, I fell in love with a man. The following year, I joined the fight for marriage equality. After we won that campaign, I knew I wanted to become a gay activist. I wanted to help create a world in which feminine boys and butch girls could exist peacefully in society. A world in which gender-nonconforming people were accepted as natural variations of their own sex. Minorities, sure, but real and valid nonetheless.

The trans question

In 2017, at the age of 33, I enrolled at Columbia University, New York to complete my undergraduate degree. There, I was shocked to discover how gay activism had evolved since marriage equality became the law of the land. The focus was now entirely on personal pronouns and on being ‘queer’. My classmates labelled me ‘cis’, short for cisgender. I didn’t even know what it meant. All I knew was that they called me ‘cis’ in the same cadence that the seventh graders had called me ‘fag’.

Soon, I learned about nonbinary identities, and that some people – many people – were literally arguing that sex, not gender, was a social construct. I met people who evangelised a denomination of transgenderism that I had never heard of, one that included people who had never been gender dysphoric and who had no desire to medically transition. I met straight people whose ‘trans / nonbinary’ identities seemed to be defined by their haircuts, outfits and inchoate politics. I met straight women with Grindr accounts, and listened to them complain about the ‘transphobic’ gay men who didn’t want to have sex with women.

All around me, it seemed, straight people were spontaneously identifying into my community and then policing our behaviours and customs. I began to think that this broadening of the ‘trans’ and ‘queer’ umbrella was giving a hell of a lot of people a free pass to express their homophobia.

At Columbia, I took classes on LGBT history, but much of that history was delivered through the lens of queer theory. Queer theorists appropriate French philosopher Michel Foucault’s ideas about the power of language in constructing reality. They argue that homosexuality didn’t exist prior to the late 19th century, when the word ‘homosexual’ first appeared in medical discourse. Queer theorists proselytise a liberation that supposedly results from challenging the concepts of empirical reality and ‘normativity’. But their converts instead often end up adrift in a sea of nihilism. Queer theory, which has become the predominant method of discussing and analysing gender and sexuality in universities, seemed to me to be more ideological than truthful.

In my classes on gender and sexuality in the Muslim world, however, I discovered something else, too. I learned about current medical practices in Iran, where gay sex is illegal and punishable by death, and where medical transition is subsidised by the state to ‘cure’ gays and lesbians who, the theocratic elite insists, are ‘normal’ people ‘trapped in the wrong bodies’. I privately drew parallels between the anti-gay laws and practices of Iran and what I saw developing in the West, but I convinced myself I was just being paranoid.

Then, I learned about what was happening to gender-nonconforming kids – that they were being prescribed off-label drugs to halt their natural development, so that they’d have time to decide if they were really transgender. If so, they would then be more successful at passing as the opposite sex in adulthood. Even worse, I learned that these practices were being touted by LGBT-rights organisations as ‘life-saving medical care’.

It felt like I was living in an episode of The Twilight Zone. How long were these kids supposed to remain on the blockers? And what happens in a few years, if they decide they’re not ‘truly trans’ after all, and all of their peers have surpassed them? Are they seriously supposed to commence puberty at 16 or 17 years of age? These questions rattled my brain for months, until I learned the actual statistics: nearly all children who are prescribed puberty blockers go on to receive cross-sex hormones. Blockers don’t give a kid time to think. They solidify him in a trans identity and sentence him to a lifetime of very expensive, experimental medicalisation.

I wondered how different these so-called trans kids were from the little boy I had been. Obviously, I grew up to be a gay man and not a transwoman. But how could gender clinicians tell the difference between a young boy expressing his homosexuality through gender nonconformity, and someone ‘born in the wrong body’? I decided to dig deeper into the real history of medical transition.

Medicalising homosexuality

What I learned validated all of my worst fears. I learned that for decades after their invention, synthetic ‘sex hormones’ were used by doctors and scientists who sought to ‘cure’ homosexuality, and by law enforcement to chemically castrate men convicted of committing homosexual acts.

I learned about actress and singer Christine Jorgensen, one of the first people in the US to become widely known for having ‘sex-reassignment’ surgery in the early 1950s. Jorgensen may now be celebrated by the modern ‘LGBTQIA+’ community as a trans icon, but he seemed more concerned with escaping his homosexuality, which he said was ‘deeply alien to my religious attitudes’. As Jorgensen put it, ‘I identified myself as female and consequently my interests in men were normal’.

I learned that of the first adolescents to be treated for gender dysphoria (or what was then called ‘gender identity disorder’) with puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones in the 1990s and early 2000s, the vast majority were homosexual. And I learned that these studies inform current ‘gender-affirming care’ practices.

Soon, I met detransitioned gay men who had sought an escape from internalised and external homophobia in a transgender identity. They continue to suffer severe post-surgical complications, years after their vaginoplasties.

I began to fear we had reached a point of no return a couple of years ago, during a conversation I had with a supposedly ‘progressive’ friend. I told her that, if I had been a young boy now, I likely would have been prescribed puberty blockers and gone on to medically transition. ‘And you don’t think you would’ve been happy as a transwoman?’, she asked me. Her question left me speechless. I couldn’t find the words to state the obvious: that I am a gay man, not a transwoman; that statistics tell me my medical transition may not have been successful; and that I would suffer severe medical complications. In any case, if I had transitioned, I wouldn’t be living an authentic life. After all, isn’t that what this is supposed to be about? Living authentically?

Sylvester, an androgynous disco icon of the 1970s and 1980s, was once asked what gay liberation meant to him. He answered, ‘I could be the queen that I really was without having a sex change or being on hormones’. Perhaps I belong in an earlier era, when newly liberated gays and lesbians rebelled against the medical and psychiatric experiments they had long been subjected to. Perhaps my early aspiration of expanding what it means to be a boy or a girl was nothing but a pipe dream. In Europe, there is hope that these medical experiments will cease, and that gay and lesbian adolescents will be spared from a lifetime of medicalisation. But in the US, nearly eight years after same-sex marriage became the law of the land, it is full-steam ahead with these homophobic practices.

For voicing my concerns about gender-affirming care for minors, I have been called a transphobic bigot. If that’s what speaking out against the medicalisation of homosexuality makes me, then so be it.

#gender critical #jk rowling #twitter #artículo

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deluwoo · 9 months

Text

thoughts on bf!enha

pairing ▸ enhypen x f.reader genre ▸ headcannon, fluff, comfort, crack (?? in some way), established relationships warnings ▸ food, mention (1) of alcohol [lmk if there r more] wc ▸ 345

eun's notes ▸ prev from my old blog @/wonieweb!! pls enjoy bc i miss writing :((

y.jw: times of silence where you just appreciate each other’s company. using elastic hair ties and scrunchies to play with his hair. writing down the little details about you: allergies, favorite restaurants, etc. muffled laughter especially when the two of you are eating. late night strolls near the Han river. attempts to do make-up on you l.hs: you secretly record when he sings so you can replay it anytime you want. sleeping until 10 am in the morning. both of you are bed heads just staring at each other confused for 10 min. homemade earrings. festival or carnival dates at night. resting on his lap during long car rides. reading fanfics with him ABOUT him and laughing 99% of the time. p.js: vinyls and wine (coke) at 10 pm. grocery shopping for the other boys. finding your stuff in his bag because you rarely bring yours. making fun of his pre-debut photos. sunday brunch with his family. you watch him play games on the big TV. homemade lunch on school days. fingers around belt loops when out in public. s.jk: dog parks and ice cream. peach/apple picking with him. free tutoring but it ends with the two of you extremely confused and irritated with the subject. 2 whole albums of polaroids of the two of you. a playlist of songs that remind him of you. late night car drives to the drive thru. babysitting together. dancing in the rain. p.sh: strolls with your hands in his pockets. using the ‘its our anniversary’ card to get discounts in restaurants. stealing his hoodies and cloaks. short but kind compliments at the most random times. the most random texts at 1 am. likes to choose your outfits. getting sulky because hes just laughing at you for no exact reason. switches from being the little spoon to a big spoon. k.sn: homedates where u binge watch kdramas and eat. “because im your bf” excuse. diy photoshoots. late night gossiping. secret photos of each other sleeping. grabbing you by the waist onto his lap. matching pfps or lock screens. pinterest boards for each other. kissing of cheeks. n.rk: homemade memes of each other. private twt just to simp over you. hes the most romantic when youre asleep. youre couple love language is quality time. likes to buy you flowers and presses them when theyre almost wilted. library dates. buying stationary together. 4 am talks on the rooftop. he’ll put your stuff on the higher shelves to see you struggle then eventually traps you against the shelf while he gets it for you.

a reblog wld be nice 👹👹 repost of previous works ©wonieweb now ©deluwoo

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space-invading-pigeon · 2 years

Text

Steve is always considered to be the spoiled rich boy of the group, and no one corrects this. They frequently pester him for rides or snacks or movie nights, and Steve always comes through with the best of the best for them, so absolutely everyone in the Party believes that he's this incredibly spoilt only child in a big fancy house, footing the bill for bonding nights because it's the least he can do.

On the first Christmas after Vecna, Steve goes a little overboard getting gifts.

Will gets a premium art kit, high quality paints and new brushes and a few canvases, along with three sketchbooks. The first page of one is covered with a drawing Steve spent weeks perfecting. It looks pretty mediocre, but it's just a cute little picture of Will as his DnD character saving the party from a monster.

Mike gets an electric guitar and amp, along with sheet music to the songs that Mike had been gushing about since meeting Eddie.

Lucas gets a new basketball, a case of New Coke, and tickets to a Pacers game on January 2, 1987. There's two, but Steve insisted that it was for Lucas and Max. He was just the driver.

Dustin makes out like a bandit. He gets a new game console (the NES he had been ranting about for months; Steve has already told Ms. Henderson that it was a gift), a brand new home computer, a full set of haircare products, a new hat, and Steve's house key.

Max gets a fancy dagger. It's beautifully made, inlaid with a starburst-cut emerald, and small enough to fit snugly in her winter boot, so she can feel protected everywhere. She also gets a new skateboard, which is probably her favorite gift.

Eleven gets a thick notebook, half-filled with recipes that Steve's noticed she likes. He promises to teach her how to make them, and how to come up with her own, whenever she wants.

Robin gets about a hundred different little gifts, just trinkets that reminded Steve of her. She also gets a promise that Steve will help her find her own car.

Argyle and Nancy both get less personal gifts; Argyle receives a stack of comfortable, soft sweaters, and Nancy gets a few books written by female reporters.

Jonathan gets another new camera, and enough film to last him until next Christmas.

Joyce gets handmade blankets, soft and fuzzy, and about fifteen different trinkets that Steve insists remind him of her. Every single one of them has to do with motherhood.

Hopper gets a case of beer, a pack of cigarettes, and the deed to the land surrounding his cabin. Steve also promises to help make some additions to the cabin, to make it just as spacious and homey as they need.

Eddie gets a little bit of everything: haircare products, clothes, records, tapes, a new amp, a plastic container full of the cookies he always asks Steve to make him, socks, cigarettes, anything Steve can think of to get him.

Steve doesn't expect anything, and he's not being a self-pitying, spoiled little rich kid convinced that nothing these common folk could get him would be worth it. Steve hadn't received Christmas gifts since he was seven, he knows he's not worth it, and really, he likes seeing how happy everyone is at his gifts; it makes him feel good to see that he can make his family so happy.

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qprstobin · 1 year

Text

the scenic route

i saw this post by @henderdads yesterday and started CACKLING at the image of eddie trying to hide from steve only to stumble across the rest of his stalkers fan club, so here it is

Ao3 link

Eddie was pretty sure he was supposed to be better than this.

He'd had more than his fair share of ill advised crushes over the years. His middle school science teacher, the entirely too-nice-for-the-popular-crowd head cheerleader, the bartender at the Hideout that he sold coke to on more than one occasion. And yet, here he was. Leering after Steve Harrington.

(Crush was maybe too strong of a word - that would imply he felt any positive emotions towards the man other than carnal lust.)

Every day at work, Eddie told himself he would take the shortest path outside for his smoke break, and every day he ended up taking the scenic route.

It was like he couldn't help himself. He'd shove his hands into his pockets, and meander his way passed the food court, trying his hardest to seem natural as his eyes strayed over to the Scoops Ahoy.

And there he was, Harrington in all his post-popularity glory. Eddie wasn't sure whose bright idea it was to put the Scoops employees in sailor suits, but he wanted to shake their hand. Or slash their tires.

The shorts clung to Harrington's thighs, somehow even thicker than they were when he was still playing sports regularly. The little hat was less flattering, causing his signature hair to fall limp beneath it, but that was fine. Eddie had seen his hair in all its glory more than enough to fill in the blanks.

As he got closer, he could see that Harrington was chatting up a female patron - typical of the high school heartthrob. It sent a pulse of jealousy and disgust through him. Harrington looked up at the girl from under his eyelashes, pulling his pink, glossy lips into a smirk.

The things Eddie would do to that mouth with half a chance.

The girl let out a laugh, turning in a whirl of curls as she giggled with her friends. He would've thought that response was a positive one if Harrington hadn't immediately let his head fall forward with a groan. Robin Buckley, the mousy band geek Gareth was infatuated with last year, popped up from the back room with a white board that seemed to be a record of all of his strikeouts.

Harsh.

Seemed even pretty privileged popular kids had trouble wooing fair maidens sometimes. Who would've thought. A feeling of satisfaction curled in his stomach - both at watching Harrington get put in his place and knowing that he was still painfully single.

He didn't let himself examine why that was.

While watching the interaction, Eddie hadn't realized he had been slowing to a stop. Until Buckley looked his way. Panic surged through him and he dove to the left, towards a gathering of potted ferns that should be leafy enough to hide him and his hair.

There was a snag in that plan - someone was already hiding there.

Eddie stumbled, arms pinwheeling as he tried to stop himself from running over three middle schoolers. Several little hands snagged the front of his shirt, keeping him from pitching backwards and falling on his ass.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ-" he cursed as he wobbled to a stop. He clamped his mouth shut, taking in the three children in front of him.

The two nearest to him were barely holding back giggles, one a boy with an unfortunate bowl cut and the other a redheaded girl who looked like she was trying to judge him but couldn't smother her mirth. Another boy with dark skin and a bandana tied around his head was looking embarrassed, crouching as close as possible to the girl as he could.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Eddie asked, unable to help himself.

"Same thing you are," Red replied with a smirk playing at her lips. He blanched.

"What."

"Eye candy," she said. It was clear what - or rather who she was referring to.

Bandana groaned softly, the embarrassment on his face deepening. Bowl Cut started giggling again. A fern was tickling Eddie's ear, and he desperately wanted to melt into the floor like the ice cream on a Scoops Ahoy cone.

Eddie didn't even bother to deny it. "You're like, 10. Aren't you a bit young for crushes?"

Red gave him an unimpressed stare.

"We're about to start high school, man," Bandana said as he wrinkled his nose. Judgment colored his tone.

"You don't look like the type to normally go for preps. So do you really have a leg to stand on?" she added.

Sheesh, the attitude on these kids.

Eddie refused to give her any ground.

"Also, I don't have a crush - I was dragged here against my will," Bandana continued.

"I can't believe my boyfriend is lying to my face like this."

"Steve's basically our babysitter, that's weird."

"I don't know," Bowl Cut piped up for the first time, "I think crushing on your babysitter is pretty normal."

Eddie's head was spinning as he tried to keep up with the back and forth. Steve Harrington was their babysitter? He pinched the inside of his wrist, convinced this whole situation was a bad trip or a surreal weed dream. It made more sense than a couple of toddlers claiming that Harrington babysat them regularly.

"I don't have a crush on him!"

"Then why do you keep asking him to 'shoot hoops' with you?" Red asked, turning her judgmental haze onto her sweating boyfriend.

"You know I'm thinking about trying out for basketball next year," Bandana said with an almost pretentious air. "I need all the practice I can get!"

"I didn't know getting smacked in the face with the ball when Steve takes off his shirt counted as practice," Bowl Cut said, a deceptively sweet smile on his face as he drove a dagger into his friend's back.

"DUDE!"

Bowl Cut and Red shushed him, tiny hands flying to cover Bandana's mouth. Eddie reflexively peeked through the fronds, checking to make sure the object of their well - their object hadn't noticed them.

(He hesitated to call him the object of their lust because the three in front of him were literally babies, but he refused to use the word affection in the same sentence as Harrington. Even if this entire conversation was throwing his carefully crafted view of the man through a loop.)

It was fine, though. Harrington and Buckley were wrapped up in their own world, chatting back and forth. If he had a heart he might even say they looked good together. Eddie's eyes strayed towards Harrington's fingers as he twirled his scooper in his hand.

He wanted to shove them in his mouth-

Not the time.

By the time he tuned back into the infants' conversation, Bandana was sulking. Clearly, he had lost, especially with how smug both Red and Bowl Cut looked. Red had even pulled out a little snack packet that she was triumphantly munching on.

"You brought snacks?" Eddie sputtered out, not sure if he was impressed or put out by the sheer balls on this little girl.

"Uh, yeah? Food court food is expensive," she said like it was a no brainer.

The balls, man.

He kinda wanted to be her when he grew up.

"Let me get this straight, you brought snacks along while you stalk your babysitter?" he asked anyway.

"I get hungry," Red said. After a moment, she rolled her eyes and pulled out another snack pack, throwing it at him. It smacked him in the face, but he managed to catch it before it hit the ground. "You're welcome."

"Thanks?" he replied automatically.

This may as well happen.

She distributed two more snack packs to her friend and her boyfriend, and the three returned to peering at Harrington through the ferns. Eddie just stared at them, once again feeling like he must have fallen into a different universe.

This whole thing was getting to be too much for him. His knees and thighs were starting to ache, and not for any particularly pleasant reason. He didn't want to know how long he had been crouched back here.

He needed to get out of here before he reached his limit. His boss may give him a lot of leeway, but he didn't want to keep pushing his luck hanging out in the food court for the rest of the day, babysitting Steve fucking Harrington's children.

Even if the view was pretty good.

"Well, this has been fun, but I need a smoke," he said finally. The three barely spared him a glance. Figuring that they were done with him, and because he didn't know how to leave well enough alone. "I'll leave you to your... stalking."

"Same time tomorrow?" Bowl Cut asked, turning that shy but cheeky grin onto him, revealing that not only had they done this before, but that they had seen Eddie here before.

Fuck. His face was turning red.

"Don't plan on it," he scoffed. The trio spared him disbelieving glances, but let him rock to his feet and start walking away without another word.

They all knew he'd be taking the scenic route again tomorrow.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #will byers #st fic rec #my writing #steddie fic #drugs m /

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bitethehnd · 3 months

Note

Hii, love your writting! ❤️❤️ Can i request one where JB and reader are seen kissing at a party and fans freak out on social media and the next day they look at the posts together?

₊˚⊹ ʚɞ style !

pairing : julien baker x fem!reader

synopsis : after a fun night out celebrating the boys’ new album, you and julien wake up to madness

cw : really nothing, just fluff and an accidental hard launch. some sexual innuendos, actress!reader because i said so, femme!reader, phoebe being a menace

you were a fairly well-known actress, julien was a fairly well-known singer. the two of you should have probably known to be more cautious if you didn't want your business showcased all over enews, but neither of you were thinking about that. the boys had just released their album 'the record' last night at midnight. it had done very well on the charts so far, and there was nowhere to go but up from there. you were insanely proud of the women you loved and all of you were celebrating their achievement.

muna had joined you and the boys at the bar you were at. the four of you all sprouted grins as you stood up to greet them. you pulled jo's girlfriend, kelli, in for a long hug.

"hi, baby," kelli said into the hug. you smiled brightly and kissed her cheek.

"thank you for coming, kells. i know it means the world to them that you're all here," you said sweetly as you pulled away.

"are you kidding me? jo wouldn't shut up about seeing them all week." you and kelli started to giggle loudly. jo and julien turned around in amusement at the sound.

"and what are you ladies laughing about?" jo asked sarcastically and raised one eyebrow. julien walked up to you and wrapped one arm around your waist securely, a giddy smile on her face. it made you practically beam to see her so happy.

"i was just telling kelli my elaborate plan to steal her away from you. you better watch out, jo," you winked at the curly-haired woman with a smug smile. jo fake gasped and pulled kelli away from you. the four of you all started to laugh loudly your antics.

"who's ready to party?!" phoebe suddenly yelled over the loud music. you all started hollering and made your way to the bar top. some ordered drinks, but you and julien opted for soda instead. she was sober and you had decided when you two got serious that you wouldn't drink around her. she insisted that it was fine and it didn't bother her in the slightest, but you stuck with your decision. you were sober in spirit for her.

as the drinks were downed, all of you made your way to the dance floor. you cheered in delight as a rihanna song came on, pulling julien to dance with you.

"babyyy," julien whined, "you know i can't dance."

"anyone can dance, jules. now c'mon, just follow my lead," you said and placed her hands on your hips. you guided her movements, instructing her to move her hips in sync with yours. you put your arms around her neck as your bodies got closer together.

julien leaned up and burrowed her head in the crook of your neck, sucking marks onto the delicate skin. you giggled softly at her actions, moving your torso right up against hers. at that point, you two were practically grinding on each other. you could feel the outline of her abs through her button up shirt, and she was right at eye level with your cleavage that was probably spilling out of your top.

neither of you were thinking about anything other than each other, so you failed to see the woman that was recording you sitting at the bar.

after about ten minutes of dancing, you pulled julien's face away from your neck and told her you needed a drink. she, of course, followed you to the bar and ordered a cherry coke for you.

the bartender filled up the glass for you and slid it across the bar. you took a long sip from the straw as julien watched you. she took the drink from your hands and did the same. you sat down on a stool, and she moved to stand in between your legs. you placed the drink down and wrapped your arms around her neck, her pulling you by the waist to get you closer.

"have i told you how proud i am of you?" you asked her as you played with her hair. she let out a soft chuckle.

"have i told you how beautiful you are?" she countered with a smug smile. you laughed loudly and slapped her on the shoulder.

you leaned in to give her a sweet kiss. she immediately responded, kissing you back passionately and gliding her tongue along your bottom lip. you gave her access, letting her tongue into your mouth. you two made out for a few minutes before phoebe came into sight and wolf whistled loudly. you laughed and julien just flipped her off. that night was perfect.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the next morning, you and julien woke up to phoebe banging on the guest room door. the two of you and lucy decided to stay in the blonde’s apartment, which in hindsight was a bad idea. phoebe stayed up all hours of the night doing god knows what and woke the two of you up so early.

“phoebe! cut it out!” julien whined and rolled over, shoving her head under a pillow. the door practically busted open and phoebe came running in.

“guys, oh my god. you have to see this,” the older woman said and almost threw her phone at you.

you sighed and took her phone from her hands, the blonde bouncing on her feet anxiously. what could have made her so worked up? you didn’t know.

phoebe’s phone was opened to twitter. the tweets on her homepage were filled with videos and pictures of you and julien from last night. your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you scrolled.

“oh my god, julien, get up,” you said with a hardy laugh. the dirty blonde rolled over and glanced over your shoulder at the phone. her jaw was slack and she had a horrified look on her face. phoebe came and sat next to you on the bed as the three of you saw the leaked photos.

“this is…” julien trialed off and tilted her head.

“kinda funny…” you said monotonously before looking over at your lover and bursting out laughing. phoebe joined you in the giggles as julien looked at you guys like you grew three heads.

“guys! it’s not funny!” julien tried to reason, but she herself was starting to crack up.

“it’s funny. like, really funny,” you let out through your laughter. it sucked that someone had invaded your privacy, but the two of you were making out in the middle of a bar, so really it was your fault.

“it’s julien’s fault for practically fucking you in public,” phoebe shrugged.

“i was not!” julien exclaimed dramatically and hit phoebe with a pillow. the blonde fake gasped and hit her back. you were stuck in the middle of their childish fighting, trying to get out of the way of the flying objects.

“can you guys shut the fuck up! some of us would like to sleep!” lucy suddenly yelled from her bed down the hall.

“sorry, luce!” you yelled back.

“alright, get the fuck out, bridgers,” julien said and pointed a finger at the blonde.

“fine, baker,” she sassily responded before taking her phone and walking out of the door.

you and julien looked at each other as she shut the door, soft smiles on your faces. you hugged julien and gave her a kiss on the forehead, she cuddled into your chest.

“do you think we should tell people we’ve been together for two years?” julien asked jokingly as she looked up at you. it was surprising that you guys managed to keep your relationship a secret for so long.

“do you think we should tell people we’re engaged?” you joked back as you two fell into laughter again.

the rest of the morning was spent scrolling on social media to see people’s reactions. most were surprised and overjoyed, and some said they knew all along. which was obviously a sham because the two of you were ‘just friends’ to the public until now.

the tiktok edits made you blush and people’s shocked tweets made the two of you smile. after a while, you two decided to post an instagram story to your profile. the picture was the two of your hands laced together. julien’s unique tattoos made it obvious it was her, but the real surprise came from the diamond ring proudly placed on your ring finger. let’s just say twitter had another field day after that.

#bitethehnd #julien baker x reader #julien baker x you #julien baker au #julien baker fanfic #boygenius x reader #boygenius fanfic #muna fanfic #muna x reader #sapphic #wlw #lesbian #bisexual

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pastafairyy · 3 months

Text

I Eat Boys: #2

part 1

summary: Much to your dismay, you find yourself at a house party, encountering the curly haired boy from the record store...

note: thx for liking the first one, sorry it was so disorganized, this one's far better !!! reblogs r appreciated + enjoy ofc <3 !!!

🎸

You had not thought about that curly haired boy from the record store since it happened, which was only a day ago, but you hadn't thought about it nonetheless. Except when you find yourself remembering how cool his shirt was or thinking about what his hands looked like grabbing the cassette. But you didn't think about it. Just occasionally got pissed off by the fact that he had one of those faces that would just never leave your head.

Robin Buckley and you had been attached at the hip since you met in art class last year. Robin had told you at lunch about a party she was going to, asking if you wanted to go, saying "C'mon, you never go anywhere. Let go of your societal hatred for once and let loose a little!" to which you had replied, "Really? It's just a bunch of shithead jocks drinking beer to the tune of shitty music" Robin gave you a look. One that you recognized, "...You want to go so you can talk to Vickie don't you?" She shrugged at you and once again gave you a look, "Just remember that you love me" She said, grabbing your shoulders, and then rushing to the lunch line.

While Robin was off getting her daily dose of shitty cafeteria food and chocolate milk, you were reading. And peacefully so until she returned, slamming her lunch tray down on the table unnecessarily hard. "So, will you go with me?" She said, looking at you sort of eagerly. You sigh and reply reluctantly, "Ugh, ok fine. But next time you're on your own. I refuse to be a pawn in your game, Buckley" She nods happily, taking a gulp of chocolate milk.

Soon the time had come for you to entertain robins lady crush, and you still didn't want to go. However, you figured that helping robin was more important than your distaste for socialization. the metal of the dragonfly pendant you were wearing was cool against your skin as you pulled your shoes on. Soon enough, robin honked her car horn and you hopped up off the couch and walked out the door.

☆ 🎸 ☆

As you got to the house, the shitty pop music spilled out into the streets and nearly half the school grouped inside like sardines. Robin pulled you through the crowd, and into the kitchen, where Vickie was standing and talking to some band kids. She promptly bid you adieu to go talk to Vickie, leaving you to fend for yourself. You moved to the other end of the kitchen, drinking a coke and searching around for anyone you could possibly know, trying not to breathe in the cigarette smoke. Clearly someone with status had just entered, considering the entire group at the front had parted down the middle. And, oh, there's that blonde dickhead again.

You decided you would move to the backyard so as to not get into anything, no matter how appealing making him cry sounded. But before you could make it through the hallway, one of Carvers goons cornered you into a wall. You rolled your eyes as you scowled at the basketball player. You didn't know his name, and you didn't care. You just wanted him out of your face. The stench of entitlement coming off of him like cologne.

"If it isn't the notorious man-eater. You really shouldn't be here, freak, " He said, inching towards you. "Oh, trust me. There are so many places I would rather be, " you said, patting him on the shoulder and continuing on your route. He quickly stopped you, cornering you again, his arms on either side of you. You pushed him off of you quickly, his back hitting the wall as you walked off.

You pushed your way through the tightly packed room, but not before you walked into someone. Hard. You looked up at the guy you had just hit, a scowl painting your face. Not recognizing him, you say sternly, "Look, if this is another drunk idiots attempt to have me, I would sooner kill myself than ever sleep with you" The guy looked at you for a moment, a confused expression appearing. "Not very keen, are we?" he said, his hands in his pockets as he looked at you. You squeezed your temple, a headache growing from your previous collision. You felt light-headed. "Hey, are you ok?" he said, putting a hand on your arm. "Yeah-Yeah, I'm ok." You said, pulling your arm away from his. "You sure?" he said "I think you need some fresh air, you look sick or something, c'mon" He grabbed your arm again you tried to wriggle your way out of it but you were too dizzy to have any strength.

He walked you out to the front yard and up the hill to a pair of swings. "I don't need your help. I'm ok." You said, almost falling off the swing you sat on. "yeeah I- woah.." He said, catching you and sitting you back up straight. There was a beat of silence before either of you spoke.

"Why are you doing this?" You say, looking over at him, a look of annoyance on your face. "I was not about to let you fall over in a room full of assholes who don't care if you live or die. They might've stepped on you if I hadn't brought you out. " He gives you a sarcastic smile, or - at least what you thought was a sarcastic smile. All that secondhand smoke was really getting to you, you thought.

"I doubt you care if I live or die," you say, squeezing your temple from the headache again. "Sure, I do," He said, another what you think is a sarcastic smile painting his face as he holds the swing steady from behind. "I still don't want your help," you say, turning your head to look at him. He catches you from falling again before saying, "Well, you're getting it." You sigh in annoyance, looking at him again. You noticed something familiar in his face. You think for a moment. His hair. He's record store boy. "You're the guy from the record store." You say, rubbing your head thinking it may help the ache go away. "I'm still jealous of your shirt, by the way," you added, still looking at him. His eyes had kind of a sparkle to them all of a sudden, you noticed as he looked back at you. "Is that so?" he said, helping you up. You take a deep breath, silence washing over the both of you before he says, "Eddie. That-Thats my name, by the way."

You perk up a little, and give him a small smile before telling him yours. His eyes light up at hearing your name, replaying it in his head a couple of times. "I will say, i'm kind of impressed that you scared Carver away so easily," he says, holding you steady still. "Well, he's gullible. And he thinks my outright feminism means I kill people, so that helps." You reply. He laughed at your reply. Eddie looked nice, you thought. Too nice. The secondhand smoke was really getting to you, you think to yourself, again. Usually, you looked at guys like him and would rather die than kiss them. But right now, you found yourself contradicting that opinion. Your eyes flicked to his lips for a split second, and his eyes went sort of big, noticing the action.

"Hey, do you have a ride home? You should probably go get some rest, " He said, looking stressed or maybe nervous, you couldn't tell. You think for a moment, gathering your thoughts, "My friend Robin is here somewhere." You say, remembering she was here and talking Vickies ear off probably. "I can just walk home and call her later," you add, pulling yourself up, but soon the dizziness came rushing back. He looks at you, running a hand through his wild hair, and looking at you like you just said the dumbest shit ever. "What?" You say, your brows furrowing. "You are not walking home." You raise an eyebrow this time, "yes I am." The look stays on his face, "no you aren't. not at night. c'mon" he says to you, helping you up from the swing and softly taking an arm to walk you to his car, "I have free will, you know," you say as you walk with your arm in his hand, "nothings stopping me from running away right now" He raises both eyebrows, "that's true. but it doesn't really seem like you want to run, so," he says, giving you another possibly sarcastic smile. "I hate that you're right" You reply, scoffing.

☆ 🎸 ☆

The drive was silent, with the exception of sabbath playing faintly in the background. As he was turning onto your street, you looked over at him, propping your head up with your hand, "I did not need your help, but I guess I appreciate you helping me." You say, leaning over to give him a pat on the shoulder. You go to pat his shoulder, and pause, a beat of silence washing over. Your eyes flicked back and forth from his lips, but quickly you blink and seemingly snap back into reality.

You get out of his car, and stand outside the door for a moment before leaving, "have a good night" He says, swallowing hard. You gave him an awkward smile, stupidly mad he didn't catch the hint and kiss you as you walked to your front door.

He was most definitely going to ruin your life. You had a feeling.

#eddie munson × reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson headcanon #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #10 things i hate about you #stranger things fic #steve stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson fanfic #frye writes #eddie munson x y/n #dad!eddie x mom!reader #mom!reader x dad!eddie

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inkyray · 2 months

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a/n: tried my best to make the reader as goth as possible, feel free to send constructive criticism and more reqs

based off this request

warnings/content ahead: smut, oral reader!receiving, nick x masc!goth!reader, mentions of blood, throatfucking, mentions of cigarettes, they met at a house party, sorta rushed

RADIANT

After completing your cigarette, finally taking the connected earbuds from your ears, Bite My Hip by Bauhaus fades out. You thrust your freezing hands into your oversized black leather jacket and slam it to the ground, watching the rest of the cigarette burn before stepping on it, pressing firmly at it.

You released a small sigh, watching the cold air turn it to fog, although you were sure it was laced with remaining smoke from what you had just stolen a puff from. Staring widely at the large LA house party you were invited to, you furrow your eyebrows slightly, gradually beginning to realize that this was not your scene. At all.

You were already at their front lawn, which was somehow filled to the brim with people, it was too late now. Approaching their front door, which was wide open, your eye latches onto two widely known influencers making out, two people you would've never expected together. Are we in highschool? Get a fucking room, this is a house party. You tell yourself, immediately deciding that LA was just as immature as you'd imagined.

Stepping over something on the ground that you couldn't recognize, you fully enter the building and are met with a completely separate world from the one you had just left. Almost everyone was dancing to music and holding a glass of alcohol, you find yourself making eye contact doing lines of coke, sniffing through a dollar bill off someone's arm. Some insufferable content creator records it, being insufferably loud.

You pass by a mirror, sparing yourself a quick look. Black leather jacket, under it was a black button down practically a shade lighter than the jacket, you decided to unbutton the few buttons, revealing your nearly pure white skin. You drag your gaze upward, your long raven hair falling right past your eyebrows, brushing against your smudged eyeliner eyes. You blink against them, your lashes slowly tugging on a strand that was merely in the way, you blow a breath upward, the air gently transferring the strand off to the side of your face. Your eyebags looked more evident under the lighting, making it appear pinkish, as though you were sick. Blinking, your lazy drooping eyes stared back at you. You decide it was enough looking at yourself, and continue scrolling through the mansion.

You move off to the kitchen, grabbing yourself a shot and swallowing it down your throat in one go, studying the place around you. What if you just stole all of the alcohol and left? That'd be funny, you thought to yourself. By your second shot, you watch a boy and what looked like to be his identical brother walk into the kitchen. There were already so many people circling around this island, and it looked like they needed to get through, you stepped out of the way for them. "Chris, I swear to fucking god if you forget about me." The one with the nose ring threatens.

"I won't! I promise. Just stay here, don't go anywhere." The one presumably named Chris replies. They look like you've seen them on the internet somewhere, you immediately get the impression that they were famous. "Motherfucker you can't just expect me to not go anywhere!" The boy yelled, but by the time the words left his lips, Chris was already out of sight. You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips.

You aren't sure how he'd heard you over the constant talking and blaring music, but he did, turning his head to look at you, cranking his neck a little bit to fully get a view of your face. Not to brag, but you were in the 6 foot charts. "You also have brothers that would ditch you to bang some girl?" He asks, which makes a slight smirk on your face. Not a full one, but it was there. "I have sisters that would sell me on facebook marketplace for a good 2 dollars and a decent BLT sandwich." You respond, which surprisingly makes him laugh, his expression radiant. You feel yourself almost laugh along with him.

"Same thing."

You grab a hold onto a half empty bottle of tequila, some moron bumping into you and completely dropping the bottle on the table. It didn't shatter or anything, it sort of bounced off and spilled everywhere. You flare your nostrils, feeling your impatience bubble up as you turn to look at the backward-capped idiot. His back was facing you, but he must've felt eyes on him, slowly turning and calculating your expression and the spilled alcohol. "Watch where you're going." He scoffs before leaving, putting the blame completely on you.

You feel your chest begin to bubble and you resist the urge to completely smash the bottle against that guy's head, but you held yourself and told yourself that was just your OCD talking.

"Fucking asshole." The nose ringed boy huffs, grabbing nearby paper towels and using them to dry the alcohol spillage. You raise a quick eyebrow before dropping it, "The people of LA are insufferable." you mutter as you help dry the table. The more you try to smudge the alcohol dry from the marble kitchen island, the more it loses its dark color. You had concluded two things, number one being that this city is fake and not even kitchen tables are real, and number two was that this tequila everyone was consuming could not be safe for you.

"Lucky for you, I'm from the east coast." He sang, watching as the paper towels started to dye themselves black from the table. You're eyes widen, "What the fuck is wrong with this table?" you say as it even begins to dye the tip of your fingers.

"Oh fuck." The boy realizes, quickly turning to the sink to rinse it off his hands. You rush to do the same, noticing the difference in size of both your hands. A few seconds pass of just the faucet running and the attention to cleaning your hands before you decide to speak up. "Lucky for me, how?"

The boy beside you blinks for a moment, trying to recall what you're talking about before you watch the realization form in his eyes. "That I'm from the east coast?" You nod in response, drying your hands with a separate paper towel as he follows your actions. "Let me ask you something." Nose ring says, leaning against a counter. You give him a single nod, gesturing for him to go on.

"Have you spoken to a single person at this party since you got here?"

You shake your head instantly.

"Exactly. So lucky for you, clearly disliking west coast people, rightfully so," He quickly adds. "you found someone who's from fuckin' Boston to talk to." He flashes you a grin, you look down at him with a small smile. He said the last part of his sentence like it was ridiculous, but you loved it. "What's your name?" You wondered, he managed to read your lips over the music, you watched as he set his gaze on your lips to understand you. "Nick, you?" He doesn't bother to move his eyes from where he rested them.

You tell him your name, and he studies every curve your lip makes and you can't help but lick your lips. "What are you doing at this party?" You couldn't help but ask. In your defense, compared to everyone else, you'd consider him glowing. He speaks with such radiance and passion about almost everything that comes from his mouth, although you've literally only known him for a full 2 minutes. Give or take. He was vibrant, completely the opposite from you.

Everything about you was dull and pale, the music you'd listen to was slow and melodic, as if enchanting in a way. Those adjectives go the same to your fashion sense, or overall physical aesthetics, and Nick quickly caught on to that. He used a singular shoulder to shrug. "Was invited, friends with the host of this place." He said quickly, and you feel yourself lean in, dipping your head to hear him better. "You're like famous, or something?" You think out loud and he openly laughs at that.

"I just make content on the internet with my brothers."

"Yeah, clearly famous."

"Why are you here then?" He asked the question this time, looking up at you as you held eye contact, not bothering to step away. Nick breathed in your scent, you were addictively intoxicating whether you liked to admit it or not. You smelt of cigarettes and peppermint, and he felt like he was too close to just shoving you closer to him, although given the fact you two were close enough for scent-reach and body heat.

"Older sister is friends with the hostess of the place, she got ill and concluded she couldn't come. Coercively forcing me to go instead of her so she could, to some extent, feel like she'd been there." Nick swallowed, listening to you talk, mentally noting your large vocabulary.

"Really?" He started, dropping his gaze to the shot glass on the table. "If I hadn't known better, I would've thought you were an influencer." He awkwardly laughs, clearly getting nervous with how close you were to him. You notice it, taking a step back and leaning against a kitchen counter with a small grin.

"What makes you say that?" You wonder out loud, cocking your head as you furrow your eyebrows, your smirk beyond doubt. Nick picks his gaze back up and you watch as his eyes wander from your hair and slowly down your body, his adam's apple bobbing.

He studies the center around your belt a few seconds too long before he drops them to your shoes. He lifts his eyes back up. "The way you look."

"You don't think normal look like this?"

"You don't think influencers are normal people?" He answers you with a question.

"Definitely not."

He chuckles through his chest and you catch yourself laughing with him, revealing your sharp teeth from the side.

The laughing eventually dies down and for some reason, you stare at his tattoos. You see a female cowboy pointing a pistol up. Nick lifts his arm to see what you're looking at. "Oh," He tilted his arm so he could see her better. "I got her to match a tattoo my brother has."

"The brother that just left you?"

"Nah, another one. We're triplets."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Two more of you? Interesting." He rolls his eyes, "They're nothing like me." You nod, like you expected him to say that. "You seem one of a kind." You give him a large shrug.

He smiles at you and nervously looks down. He plays with a ring on his finger before lifting his head back up. "Do you have any tattoos?"

You take a moment to answer, as if feeling the tattoo back on your skin. "Yeah, it's on my back. I'd show you, but we're sort of surrounded by hundreds."

In a matter of minutes, the two of you found an empty guest room and your shirt was off. Nick's delicately painted finger grazed softly on your skin, following the ink that stretched across your broad shoulders.

At this moment, you were glad you would actively work out. You weren't sure what back muscles would get you, but right now, you felt the unmistakable feeling of needing to impress him. And without knowing, he definitely was.

"How long did it take?" Nick asks, his fingers turned into his palm, feeling your pale skin. "My appointments needed to be chopped into multiple different days, so a while." You drop your head, your neck touching your collarbone as you couldn't deny the euphoric feeling of his hands grazing you. Since you were closed off into a separate room with nobody in it, your voice was lower, although you could still hear the muffling of the party outside.

"Mm. Really? Was it worth it?" He asks, dropping his hands, and you immediately feel a wave of loss. You lift your head back up, turning to look at him. "Well, do you like it?"

"I love it."

"Then it was worth it."

Nick undoubtedly blushes this time, and you watch as he looks at the floor with a warm smile. He was a shy sucker for being praised, you caught on to that. You continued to stare at him, and under the open light of the room, you began to notice a blue glimmer on his face. "What color are your eyes?" You randomly ask, and he looks up at you, widening his eyes for you to see.

"Blue." He answers once you've settled on that color. You stepped closer to him, and looked for a simple color swimming in his eyes that you might've missed, grabbing onto the side of his face. Nick practically swallows his throat dry, feeling your breathing fan his face as he tries to figure out what you're doing. "Yeah." You spoke under your breath. "Definitely blue."

The same eyes you spoke of dropped to your mouth, they were expressive, and you got the impression he wanted to be them on his. Painfully and utterly slow, you leaned in, getting close enough that your lips were the slightest bit brushing against each other. His mouth dropped a little, and you felt his hot breath make its way into yours.

You moved your head until, this time, his lips were fully against yours, kissing him as he yearned back. He tasted like watermelon, and you found yourself seemingly licking his lips for more flavor, which became quickly more intense.

You pushed him onto the bed and he let himself fall back, looking up at you as you placed your knees between one of his and leaned more onto his kiss. You nibbled his lips and he moaned, you pulled back and noticed the bright shade of red his lips had turned. If you had bit any harder, he would have bleed. Not that you hated the idea, you loved the taste of blood.

You lowered yourself from kissing his lips, to his chin, down to his jaw and quickly his neck, gnawing gently at it. He pulled your curls as you continued to make multiple bruises on his neck, the idea of physically marking him taking over your mind. You softly run your tongue over the hickey's, soothing the marks you had just made with your teeth.

He whimpers when you palm him, wrapping your hand around his jean-covered cock, feeling him throb hard at your chest. Nick pulls your hair hard enough for you to fully look up at him, "This okay?" You ask with a breath. He kisses you in response, "So okay."

He runs his hands down your bare shoulder and running down your forearm, a separate one falling down your chest and unbuckling your pants. You smirk, watching him attempt to take it off. "Get this fucking shit off." He argues, unable to unbuckle your spiked belt off. Your chuckle was low, enough to send blooming flowers in Nick's stomach.

With a quick swift movement, you take your pants off. He eyes your boxers and then goes to look back at you, his eyes doe and sinister. He sits up and leans into you, moving you into a way that has your back sprawled against the bed so that he is leaning on top of you.

He looks at you as he runs his hands down your underwear, lightly touching your v-line before fully wrapping his hand around you. You grasp onto his messy hair as he pulls it out of your boxers. He leans his mouth close to your cock, looking up at you before he drops his gaze once it's made its way close to his mouth. He licks the stitch line and uses his tongues to push against your tip, licking your pre-cum, a sense of victory when he hears your moans swirling in his chest.

He pushes the rest of you in him, his mouth warm and wrapped perfectly around you, you can't help yourself from pushing your hips upward, forcing yourself in him. He doesn't gag, but takes you in, and you sit up, an idea coming to mind. With your knees against the mattress, you sit up as he's sat completely, watching you rise up with a small confused look on his face as saliva drips down his chin and your dick.

"You think you can take my cock, Nick?" His stomach flips when he hears his name drip from your mouth, he nods, looking up at you. "Mm." You hum, unsatisfied as you run your fingers through his soft hair. "Let's use that pretty voice of yours, yeah?"

He swallows as you grip onto his jaw, forcing his head to tilt upward to you, wanting to see his blue eyes better. "I can take you."

"Then do it."

He connects his mouth back onto you and you immediately grip his hair, pushing yourself in and out of him. Your head dips back, as he pushes himself on you, determined to make you feel good. "So good." You moan, "You're doing so good."

You thrust yourself in and out as he moans, the sound vibrating through you and pushing you closer to the edge. You throatfuck him faster, rougher. You look back down at him, and he's looking at you. "I'm close." You groan, the grip on his hair tightening. His blue eyes drop for a moment and you grasp onto his jaw, making him look at you as you release in his mouth, desperate to keep such blue eyes on you. He furrowed his eyebrows, sucking you dry as he swallowed you down.

You pull yourself out of him, multiple thick strings of saliva breaking from the two of you. "Took me so well." You praise, letting go of his hair and soothing it down, watching your cum drip down his mouth, you use your thumb to wipe it off.

Your attention shifts to the obvious dent in his pants, raising an eyebrow. You suddenly understand your surroundings, and the idea of fucking in a guest bedroom in someones house didn't sit well with you, and secretly, it was the same for Nick.

"Get in my car with me?"

"Fuck, yes." He practically whines.

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polarisjisung · 5 months

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cherry flavoured

17—FALL AT YOUR FEET

SYNOPSIS: y/n, the campuses notorious heartbreaker, had never been one to settle down, running from the word commitment since the concept had first been introduced to her, but one smile and a little cherry coke seems to do just the trick when she runs into captain of the dance team, park jisung

PAIRING: dancer!jisung x fem!reader

WARNINGS: swearing, yeri's insufferable as usual

y/n was sprinting, bag lazily thrown over her left shoulder, basketball jersey stuffed into her bag, cherry red hair blowing in the wind with nothing in mind but getting to class on time— anything to stop her ending up in detention again this week, which had in turn led to her missing after school practising and pissing her coach off to the ends of the earth

the girl was unlucky as it was when it came to her academics, class tests always on the days after the most intense training sessions, early starts the days following late night practise, group projects with the most incompetent of people, so it was no wonder she was failing class, but her track record wasn't exactly great either, being late more often than she was on time— she couldn't afford to fuck up basketball the same way

today seemed to be no different, with 1 minute until she was actually late to the class just down the hall she should've known being so determined was a stretch, her body plummeting toward the floor seconds after a flash of brown overcame her vision

"shit, fuck, are you okay?" His strong arms landed around her waist, concerned brown eyes sparkling directly into her own, guilt dripping from his nervous smile as her hand found the back of his neck

it wasn't a flattering angle by any means, but jisung struggled to rip his eyes away from the sharp features staring his way, eager eyes not nearly as beautiful under the ambient lighting of the party where they'd first met, as they were now, shining with all things good, sending electric jolts coursing through his body

"better than I was before actually" she chuckles, dusting herself off with a quick thank you "I would've fallen at your feet otherwise"

"i don't think i'd mind all that much love" jisung giggles, his soft breaths becoming deeper with the racing of his heart, the girl still held onto his hand, sweet voice echoing through his mind

"when I said I wanted to run into you, I didn't mean quite like this" she giggles, eyes creasing as she let her pearly whites show, jisung's mind travelling back to the night they'd first met once again at her words

"you seemed to be in a rush" jisung let's his hand reach up to the nape of his neck, remembering how her hands had lingered there a couple nights ago "I hope I'm not making you late for class beautiful"

"shit, I'll catch you later pretty boy" she smiles, walking down the hall, accepting the fact that she'll be in detention once again today.

prev | masterlist | next

TAGLIST (open): @jenobubbles @justalildumpling @jising-jisang-jisung @nanawrlds @222brainrot @chichiuu @dinonuguaegi @ishireads @yyy90210 @hibernatinghamster @stqrrian @makiswrld @everywonuu @marizhua @luumiinaa @asteriaskingdom @jeongintwt @90s-belladonna @000rpheus @jammingjaem @yayloona @neozon3nha @mfaal @conwunder @toroufriteh @i6renj @https-dandelion @kikookii @delulu4-life @hancafe @produmads @tamcitrus @yv72s @funkygoose @buns-inhiding @odxrilove

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ladykailitha · 10 months

Text

Royal Pain Part 16

Hello, darlings! I wanted to get this to you before I got too busy and forgot. My birthday is on Monday and I'm having a party on Saturday that I'm preparing for today, tomorrow, and most the day Saturday. I hope to get something out during that time, but I might not be able to get it up until Sunday.

Also I found out I was accidentally tagging @chaoticlovingdreamer twice! I don't think it did anything, but it was funny it took me this long to catch on!

Speaking of tagging, it used to be easy to tag from a copied list, just click on name, select drop down, move on to the next. But for some stupid reason I can't anymore and have to delete the last character in their username to get it to pop up. Is anyone else having this problem or is it just my life deciding to make it more difficult again?

Today for your enjoyment: communication, drunk Robin, and soulmate bonding!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

***

Eddie crowed inside when Steve blushed at his comment. “And for record, sweetheart, I could see us tangled in your sheets. Not just the hot sex but everything before and after. All I’m asking is to take it slow.”

Steve gulped. “I’ll go at whatever speed you need, Eds. Honest. You set the pace.” He gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze. “And if you change your mind tomorrow, I’m down for that, too. If you decide we’re better as friends, I’ll be your best friend, okay?”

Eddie smiled. “I think Jeff and Robin might take offense to that.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, nah, Robin is my platonic soulmate, that’s separate from best friend.”

Eddie grinned. “I guess Jeff is more like family then a best friend. All the guys are.”

“There you have it,” Steve said smiling at him, merriment sparkling in his eyes.

They walked hand in hand all the way the way to the Rainbow High Club. They were forced to let go to flash their IDs, but they stayed close to each other, blushing and smiling at each other every time they caught the other’s eyes.

Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “How have I never heard of this place?” she asked, trying to take in as much of the sights as she could all at once. “It’s amazing.”

“Who’re the DDs tonight?” Robin asked, gleefully rubbing her hands together.

Steve, Gareth and Mandy all raise their hands. Eddie pouted.

“Stevie, you’re not drinking tonight?” he whined.

Steve laughed. “I’m working on your tattoo tomorrow, sunshine. I am not working on you hung over.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Now that Eddie and Steve knew where they stood with each other, that last barrier of tension vanished between them. They were laughing more freely. Touching more readily. Just having a blast knowing the potential for more was there waiting for them when they were willing to take that step.

Steve knew where the line in the sand was now and cranked up the charm to eleven. Just being a gentleman.

Eddie ate up the attention like a sunflower in summer following the sun. He felt that last bit of worry just clatter to floor like a chain coming off of a worn gate after so many years being locked away.

Jeff and Mandy ate it up on the dance floor, pulling Gareth with them as they got the shyer man to come out of his shell a little bit.

Brian even managed to get the DJ to play a little metal. Steve sipped on a Coke and laughed as he watched his friends get silly on the dance. He had barely finished his drink when Robin grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

He cussed her out but she just kissed his cheek and told him to move his hips for fuck’s sake.

His dancing was terrible, but he let himself join the crowd and sway to the beat.

Eddie said in his ear, “You know in ‘Pride and Prejudice’ being a bad dancer meant you were bad at sex.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “So you know I’ve got to ask...”

“No, trust me when I say I tango better in bed than out of it,” Steve said with a giggle.

“You got receipts for that, big boy?” Eddie asked, dropping his voice low, startling a gasp out of Steve.

His giggle turned into a full on laugh. “You want a list of my very satisfied exes?”

“And their phone number,” Eddie teased back. “If you’re going to win me over Casanova, I’m gonna need references.”

“I think I can handle that,” Steve said in total seriousness.

Eddie pushed him away, a laugh stuttering out of him. “Get off, you menace. Jeez!”

Steve backed up, giving him the space. “You started it.”

“Sorry I forgot you were Mr Charm Everyone’s Panties Off in high school,” Eddie said rolling his eyes.

Steve chuckled. “I’ve still got it, I just don’t date much because I have to run a shop.”

Eddie leaned back in. “And honey, I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve grinned.

At the bar a blond man with legs for days and a cocky grin leaned against the edge of the bartop with his elbows. Ink peaked out of the black tank top he was wearing and he had piercings in both ears and a snakebite piercing on his lower lip. He lowered his sunglasses as he watched Eddie and Steve on the dance floor. His bright blue eyes glittered with malice, the grin never leaving his face.

Steve got a giggling Robin up the stairs to their apartment and into her bed. He pulled off her jacket and shoes and rolled her under the covers. She made grabby hands at him when he stood back up.

“I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be right back,” he told her.

She pouted, but let him go.

Steve made a mad dash to his room, where he threw on his pajama pants and a faded band tee and rushed back to Robin’s room.

“Where you go?” she asked with a frown.

He shook his head and climbed into bed with her. She immediately latched to him like some kind of possessive sea creature. Like a an octopus or a barnacle.

“Why did you surround me with pretty girls?” she wailed. “All the pretty girls all at once.”

Steve snorted. Mandy and Chrissy were not ‘all’ by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

“Mandy has a boyfriend,” he gently reminded her.

“Did you know she did ballet?” Robin whisper-yelled. “That’s why she has such long legs and great tits.”

“Yes, I was there when she told us,” Steve soothed.

“And Chrissy was athletic, too!” Robin continued. “Cheerleading is scary hot.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“The...” she made a weird motion with her hands, “and the woo...” she threw her arms in the air, “and the ‘yay!’ That’s scary.”

He rolled his eyes. “The tumbling?”

Robin hit his arm over and over. “That, that! Yes. And the hot is the uniform. Have you seen the uniform?” she growled.

Steve laughed. “I was in basketball, yes. You know one of the two sports that has cheerleaders?”

“The skirt is itty-bitty,” she slurred, putting her hands together as close as they would go without touching. “And no sleeves! Bare midriffs too. And and the cute little socks!”

“Can’t forget the cute little socks,” he agreed.

She slapped his arm again, this time harder. “And don’t you dare try to change the subject. I see you.” She pointed at her eyes and then at him, nearly poking his eye out.

“I didn’t change anything,” he muttered, “you started talking and haven’t stopped.”

“I saw you run the bathroom after the concert, gig, thingy...” she frowned. “What is it called the every day one not the tour-y one?”

“Gig,” Steve said gently.

Robin slapped his arm again. “Don’t change the subject!” she hissed. “You got hella horny watching your boy sing!” She threw out her arms and did hit him in the face that time.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I will be better prepared next time we go.”

“You have the hots for Eddie,” she said leaning in close.

But before Steve could answer, Robin was out cold. Her low tolerance for alcohol knocking her out at last. He carefully untangled himself from her embrace knowing that her drunken snoring would be like a buzzsaw in his ear if he slept in her room.

He pulled his shirt off and slipped into his own covers a smile on his face.

The next morning he had coffee and the greasiest breakfast sandwich he could find ready for his platonic soulmate when she staggered out of bed and into the kitchen. He handed her a small glass of water and painkillers, which she took under his watchful eye.

“I feel like I should hate for this,” she muttered into her steaming styrofoam cup.

Steve grinned, knowing full well that if laughed, she would straight on murder him and he really didn’t want to go yet.

“Also, don’t think you dodged the talk about you rushing to the bathroom after the show,” she grumped. “Because that was a bit pervy even for you.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he chowed down on his own less greasy sandwich. “I was totally unprepared for how hot he was that close up,” he snarked.

Robin raised an eyebrow. “He did seem particularly out to get you with that little number he was wearing last night.”

“Seriously,” he agreed. “But I’ll know better next time, plan ahead, sit behind the table.”

She giggled.

He propped his head on his hands, elbows planted on their counter. “But enough about that. I want to talk about two lovely blondes making goo-goo eyes at each other all night.”

She pushed his arm causing him to almost smack his face into the counter as he lost the support.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed. “She did not make goo-goo eyes at me all night. I would have noticed.”

Steve laughed. “I noticed you didn’t deny making goo-goo eyes at her.”

She blushed, and took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. “She’s so pretty and smart and how I am suppose to win her over when she so far out of my league.”

Steve came over and grabbed both of her cheeks in his hands. “Robin Eloise Buckley you are just as beautiful and smart and talented as she is. Just in a different way. I know right now you’re feeling morose because you have a hangover. So trust me in this moment, you are every bit as awesome as she is and if she doesn’t see that then we say?”

“Fuck that?” she whispered.

“I don’t think I heard you,” he said cocking the side of his head so he could tilt his right ear her direction.

“Fuck that,” Robin said with more conviction.

“There you go,” he said and gave her a fierce kiss on the forehead. “Now what I want you to do while I’m gone is watch the ‘Pride & Prejudice’ mini-series with that tub of Ben & Jerry’s I know you’ve been saving and when I’m done I’ll grab Chinese from that favorite shop on the corner, okay?”

She set the coffee down and gave him a fierce hug. “You’re the best soulmate a girl could ask for.”

Steve squeezed her back. “Hard same.”

She laughed. “You are such a dork.”

“Yes, but I’m your dork.”

***

Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

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