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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

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Eddie x Fem!reader

master list

summary: feelings burst. Fluffy. Fluffy fluffy. Eddie helps reader when she finds herself in a bind.

warnings: no minors gtfo- eventual smut in the series.

W.C: 11.8k 🫣

A/N: per usual thank you the my beta readers @sweetsweetjellybean

Clunk

Clunk clunk humm

You were already late for work this morning and now this? Must be a fucking Monday. This must be that bitch karma’s payback for you talking shit about Eddie’s van the other night when he backed it up to the garage to unload some shit he salvaged from the junkyard.

“You would think that since you’re a mechanic, you could tune up that piece of shit so it isn’t so fucking loud.”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, unloading another arm load of car parts from the back of the van to the middle of the garage, “don’t dog on the shaggin’ wagon, you know how much ass I get in this thing?”

The unspoken agreement you had with Eddie the other night after spilling your guts about your past, gave you more patience towards him than ever before. Instead of finding him repulsive, you two were almost friends.

“No I don’t and also I don’t care.” you say taking a bite of a ham sandwich.

“More than a public toilet seat,” Eddie boasts, “Ladies love it, feel like I’m Shaggy or something.”

More like his other four-legged snack-loving friend.

“I really hope you use a rubber, don’t wanna extend the Munson blood line anymore than you have to,” you bite back.

“Oh sweetheart, I always wrap it with the groupies, especially watching Jas bounce from Gareth, to Big D to Walt all in one night.”

“Well look at you, Mr. Perfect bill of health.”

Eddie smiles widely a stupid grin plastered on his face, “I’m so good at the doctors they even give me a sticker. ”

Now here you are, stranded at the gas station east of town, past Merrill’s pumpkin patch. Losing all faith in your sanity, you slam your hand into the steering wheel one more time. Your chunky boots clunk across the pavement as you pull the door towards you, a dingy brass bell dings overhead, alerting the gas station attendant that someone has entered the store.

“Back again?” the balding creep with the greasy combover presses. His coke bottle thick glasses full of breakfast pizza slime from his fingers from pushing them up on in place after sliding down the oils on his nose. A brown paper bag with orange spray paint sitting next to it sat on the counter, and a tinge of orange around his mouth.

With no time for small talk or shooting the shit with the local bachelors of Hawkins, you simply need to borrow the phone and call… fuck. You didn’t want to have to call Boom’s, but the other shops didn’t open yet, and you didn’t know any of them. The decision was made.

“I need to use the phone,” you say laying your hands on the counter.

“No can do, this is a business line,” he spits, bits of his barely chewed breakfast falling from his over stuffed mouth.

Irritated beyond belief you say through gritted teeth, “What? My car broke down, I need to have it towed.”

Showing no sympathy, the combover greaseball says, “That sucks, don’t it,” a throaty chuckle erupts from him. Clearly the man got off from making next to little effort in helping someone.

“Listen,” you say peering over the counter to read the slobs name tag, “Ralph— you’re going to give me the goddamn phone so I can get my car towed, or I’m going to tell your boss about your little huffing habit. Got it?”

His cheeks crimson at your threat, “…what’s the number?”

After dialing it wrong three times, Ralph’s oversized fingers and his altered mind getting hung up on where the 4 was on the dusty rotary phone, you hastily reach across the counter and grab it and the Hawkins phone book. Flipping through the worn yellow pages, finding the number yourself and slotting your fingers in the appropriate places to get the number correct, it finally starts ringing.

Angrily tapping your foot, the serenade of dial tone ringing loud in your ear.

“Boom’s” a bored voice says, after ehat seems like hours of waiting.

“Hey, — is Eddie there?”

A scoff is heard from the other end of the phone, followed by an annoyed voice, “Why who wants to know?”

You don’t have time for childish games with whoever this fucking prick is. “Jesus Christ what is it with assholes today? Is he there or no?”

“I don’t know, you stupid bitch— why don’t you tell me if Eddie is here or—”

A scuffle is heard as the phone falls to the ground.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Huh? I’ll drop your ass just name the time and place mother fuck— hello?”

“Eddie?” You ask exhaustedly.

“Tooty? Oh shit, you miss me so much you’re making calls to my work?”

“E—” you begin, frustration rising.

“Or did you call to gossip? Ooooh, tell me all about the salon drama, is it that blonde again, damn just slap her already I know you want to.”

“Ed—!”

“Shit if you’re worried about going to jail I’ll come bail y—”

“Edward Joseph Munson!”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Did you just use my full name? I only hear that when I’m in trouble with Wayne.”

“Will you listen to me?! I need help. I’m at the gas station east of town and my car won’t start.”

“What? What happened?” Eddie asks, his joking tone immediately fading to concern.

“I have no idea, but I’m already late for work—can you come pick me up?”

“Usually this is where a please would be.”

“Eddie!”

“Ooh even begging?”

“Goddamnit,” you say under your breath, “Eddie will you please, come get me?”

“That a girl, see that wasn’t so hard. So where are you?”

Eddie rolls up in an old orange and white tow truck, head banging with a cigarette hanging limply from his bottom lip. “So what happened?”

“Well I drove here, got gas, and then it just wouldn’t start.”

“Damn, I wonder if your starter is out.”

“Great, so what the hell does that mean?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it is that or not, but if it’s not that— it means that your car is probably going to need more work than it’s worth, but I won’t know until I get it in the shop.”

“Son of a bitch.” you curse, covering your face with your hands and tipping your head back up to the sky. Could this fucking day get any worse?

After buying the house last year, your savings were completely wiped out, the last few months you had been pinching pennies trying to build it back up

“I’ll tow it, but I don’t think Boom has any loaners right now,” Eddie explains, “but since I’m such a kind, handsome, good roommate….”

You roll your eyes.

“I’ll bring you to work.”

Shock evident on your face, “You sure?”

“I mean its either that or the city bus, and last I checked—Hawkins doesn’t have one.”

Eddie agrees to give you a ride until your car is fixed on one condition, the band gets to use the garage for practices again. Too tired to fight with him, you give in.

He backs the truck up, moving the steering wheel with one hand the other hanging out of the window, his tongue poked out through his lips. He jumps down from the truck and maneuvers the wheel lift into place by your front tires.

The muscles in his forearms jut out, tattoos dancing with each movement and covered in a thin sheet of sweat as he grabs the chains from the flatbed and hooks them along your front tires, securing them into place. Your car is lifted slightly giving enough clearance to be able to tow.

“Ready?”

Bouncing along side Eddie in the tow truck you sigh heavily, “fuck, I hate Mondays.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Eddie chuckles, turning down the radio and glancing towards you, a cigarette balanced between his teeth, “could always be worse,” he digs into his front pocket for his pack of cigarettes and hands them to you.

You smile weakly and take the pack from him, plucking a tanned filter from the pack and shoving it between your lips. Before you can even say that your lighter is in the car, he’s leaning over. A scratched zippo with a fading design on it, in his hand already flicked open, the flame threatening to go out with the help of the lazy breeze through the open driver’s side window. It’s the same lighter he’s had since you first bummed a cigarette from him when you were thirteen.

Leaning towards him you put the cigarette into the flame, inhaling deep— the cowboy killers burning the pinky tissue of your lungs. He flicks the lighter closed with a metallic snap and smiles out of the corner of his mouth at you. Suddenly your lungs aren’t the only thing burning.

“Thanks,” you say, trying to avoid the skips in your stomach, “I usually prefer menthols, but I guess, these’ll do,”

“Always gotta bust my balls dontchya?” Eddie laughs, a stream of smoke billowing out from his nose. “Hey, uh— I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but that gas station is rated 5 stars on the creepiest place in town.”

You glare your eyes at him, absolutely not having it, “they have cheap gas.”

“There’s a reason for that, and every drug dealer in town sells out of there,” Eddie scolds.

“You would know,” you say in a hateful tone.

“You’re right,” Eddie protests, looking at you earnestly, “I would know— it’s not a good place to be— no matter what time of day, so stay away from it.”

You knew he was trying to look out for you, and from what Steve said, — he blamed himself for the things Chad did to you. But it was never his fault, he didn’t know just like most of Hawkins didn’t. You lived with the Wheeler’s and not even they noticed until you walked home that night. You decide to let it be. For once in your life agreeing to what he had to say.

“Alright,”

Boom’s was on the opposite side of town, the rest of the drive you listened to Eddie hum along to the radio and snuck a peek at him playing air guitar. Despite him being so foul, and a royal pain in the ass, he was actually a decent human being.

No other men in their twenties could help you through your panic attack, aside from Steve. But Eddie? He was different from Steve in ways that you couldn’t grasp. You didn’t find yourself staring at Steve. Even if you had been swimming with him on more occasions than you can count. Sure he was good looking, but you never once understood why the girls at the pool practically flocked to him. Eddie hardly ever wore a shirt around you and your stomach ached each time you saw his broad shoulders and tattoos. Steve was like a brother to you, he scolded you and gave you advice, all with his hands permanently attached to his hips. A mother hen among his friends. Eddie teased and taunted you, his irritating behavior and the way he chewed his food, the way his hair was everywhere in the bathroom, the way his hair looked when he was fresh out of the shower, a towel slung on his hips. The way his hips made a ‘V’, small trail of hair from his belly button to his waistband. Fuck.

Is it hot in here?

What the hell were you doing?

There’s no way.

No fucking way.

Nope, not today.

Not ever.

…

But what if?

Eddie couldn’t understand what was going on with you in the passenger seat. Instead of bitching at him like normal, you were staring out the window. Looking as if you were fighting a storm in your cute little head. Maybe you were reliving the past. Silently suffering through something that he should have been there to stop. But judging from your reflection against the dirty window, you didn’t seem to be crying.

After that night, Eddie was putting in more effort to make sure you felt safe. He gave you distance. Avoided the bathroom in the morning, and stopped making dick jokes altogether. He still joked around, still acted like an idiot— but his perverted meter was dipped into the green zone, the safety net.

He meant what he said, you didn’t have to be afraid with him around. And he would do whatever he could to prove that to you. So when you called Boom’s earlier and asked for help— he dropped everything to make the trek across town to pick you up. Especially when you told him the gas station you were at. Known for being the skeeziest one in town, he worried about you being there alone.

Seeing the tow truck pull into the parking lot, Sean and Aaron had their noses pressed against the glass, the cheap flimsy blinds hung crooked over their heads.

“Damn,” Aaron exclaims, “you were right, that is her.”

“Told you, Munson hasn’t shut up about her since he moved in. Wonder if Chad knows where she’s been hiding.”

Eddie parks the tow truck and you both climb out. He gives you the keys to his van and tells you he’d be right back. Walking into the shop with a whistle on his tongue, he goes into Boom’s office. He’s sitting at a worn down wooden desk. Papers, and receipts clutter space where a framed family picture might be. A steaming styrofoam cup of coffee in Boom’s left hand suggested he stopped at the donut mart, and a dozen of glazed holes from heaven would be sitting in the break room, their sweetness tantalizing the crew all day.

Eddie raps his knuckles against the yellowed paint by the door frame.

‘Yep,” Boom chirps without looking up, reading the daily arrest records in the Hawkins Post.

“Hey, I brought Tooty’s Escort back, I’m going to bring her to work quick and when I get back I’ll move it.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Boom gripes, not looking up from the paper, sipping the coffee slowly.

“Dunno, I’ll take a look at it— “ Eddie shifts his weight from one foot to another, “I was wondering if I could maybe work on it after hours, or on the weekends.”

Boom considers what Eddie is saying, “off the clock?”

“Yeah, or maybe I could take some of my tools home? Work on it there?”

Boom thinks for a while, taking a sip of his coffee. His pudgy finger hovering near the name “William Hargrove” mulling over if he knew him. He finally looks up, “Whatever you wanna do, Eddie, you’ve got keys—I trust you.” Boom offers, “just don’t let those other two jackasses know what you’re doing and who for— that’s all they’ve been yappin’ about since you left this morning.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I’m just helping out a friend, don’t know why they give a fuck.”

“Personally, I don’t give a shit— but you’re my best mechanic, and those other two are on their last strike with me. One more time I read their name in this paper and they’re both out of here, and when that time comes— I’m sure they’ll be lookin’ for someone to blame.”

The familiar scent of stale weed and a spilled rotting beer in the back of the van flood your nose. Even though his van was a dirty pile of shit and it stunk like hell, you’re thankful for Eddie taking time out of his day to help you.

He could have easily told you to fuck off, hung up on you the minute you called. But he didn’t. He kept good on his word even when he didn’t have to. He doesn’t owe you anything and yet here he was, proving to you again, that he could be someone to rely on. You peer at him through your lashes, falling deep into a spell of fondness. He was always clean shaven, showing off his babyish features. If you didn’t know his age you wouldn’t guess he was over twenty two, his youthful pale skin a glow like the moon across a lake at midnight. The deep browns of his eyes squint in the bright sun, his dark eyelashes almost kissing his cheeks. His thick ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel as ‘Holy Diver’ plays gently in the background. The bob of his Adam's apple jutting out as he swallows and takes a drag from a cigarette.

You barely recognize your own voice when you say barely above a whisper, “thank you, by the way— not just for today but for the other night,” your fingers go back to the same nervous habit, twiddling the end of your cream lettuce hem shirt.

“Of course,” he says, a look of shock on his face, “I know I like to give you shit, but I wouldn’t leave you stranded somewhere.” He looks over at you lazily and smiles. The kind of smile associated with cool guys on tv, the kind of smile that’s crooked and truly only on one side of the face. And for the first time, you smile too, letting the warmth radiate through your body, venturing into places that you have to readjust your crossed legs to avoid entirely.

Pulling into the backlot of the salon, where you and Nancy smoke cigarettes and read trash magazines, you jump out thanking him again, the creak of the door slamming back into the frame as you wave goodbye.

“What time?” Eddie yelled after you, silently admiring the way the sun catches your face, highlighting your features, the slight breeze catching your hair, he can’t help the smile that dances on his lips. “What time are you off work?”

Walking back to him, he’s leaning his head back on the head rest, an arm hanging out of the window, a stupid grin on his face.

“My last client is at five and it’s just a cut, so probably six o’clock, why?” A creep of jittery shock threatens your nerves, fluttering your stomach and sending waves of fluster through your body.

“Thought I’d pick you up, unless you wanna walk home?” He smirks, tracing the small paint chip near where his fingers set on the door.

Biting your lip and moving back on your heels you make your way back to the door, “Okay.”

“Alright, I’ll be back at six.”

“Six” you repeat, turning on your heel and walking into the salon.

Eddie has thought about you all day, the cards of life and the hand you were dealt were shitty. But he was happy he was around to help in any little way he could. He thought maybe he was crazy, seeing shit when you smiled at him, a sort of shyness in the way you flirted by dipping your head into your shoulder almost giddy at him picking you up.

But that couldn’t be.

The rest of your day was monotonous. Shampoo sets, perms, cuts, rinse and repeat. The long haired metalhead hardly left your mind. When it’s just you and Josie left in the salon after your last appointment, it’s 5:30. She sits down, exhaling loudly. Her long dark braids trailing to her waist, cascade down the length of the chair as she leans back.

“Broke down again? Girl, you need a car that actually works.” Her hot pink fingernails dip into a bag of skittles, popping them into her mouth.

“I know,” you sigh, throwing yourself into your salon chair, “hopefully in the next few months I’ll have enough saved to get myself a new one.”

“So how did you get here? If we had someone else in the salon today I would have came and picked you up,” her mouth puckered into a sucking expression as she pops another skittle into her mouth.

“My roommate… he works at Boom’s so he towed it there and then brought me to work,” you express nonchalantly.

“Ooh the rich one who you used to work with?”

“Steve?” You say with a laugh, “No, Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson? Why does that name sound so familiar? Ohh the infamous Hawkins bad boy, my cousins used to run around with him, some club or somethin’ ”

“Yeah, that's him, he’s turned himself around quite a bit since high school though.” The annoying need to defend him is obvious in your tone.

Josie’s eyes go wide, “Wait—“ she says, pointing a pink nail at you, “he had a girlfriend. He’s living with you? Shit, you’re a brave one.”

Heat creeps to your cheeks, the thought of Eddie having a secret girlfriend that you didn’t know about was almost torture on your soul, “no, no girlfriend… that I’m aware of at least.”

Speak of the devil and he will be present.

Opening the door with the sun waning behind him, peeking an orangy-yellow glow through his unruly curls, stood Eddie. His coveralls are full of motor oil and brake fluid. Black grease is smeared across his face, and his hands. Bandana still snug around his head.

“Oh shit,” Eddie blurts, eyes scanning around the room, bouncing from your face to Josie’s. Clearly uncomfortable in such a clean establishment. “Sorry, I’m uhh, a little early.”

Josie’s eyebrows are turned up in shock, her mouth slightly agape. “Damn, you’re the roommate!?”

Before she can embarrass you any further you blurt, “Josie, this is Eddie,” holding out a hand and pointing, introducing him to her, “Eddie this is my boss and the owner of the salon, Josie.”

Eddie waves with his fingers, “so you’re the one lookin’ after our girl here, the mechanic?” Josie asks.

“Uhh, yeah that’s me.” he puts a hand on the back of his neck and rubs it slow

Josie stands and walks towards you, a clicking of her heels and munching on her candy as she grabs your hand and drags you upwards, dragging you to the back of the salon.

Eddie looks around the room. The salon is decorated in light washes of pink and green and flowers decorate almost every surface, White painted baskets hang from the ceiling holding fake flowers. The salon chairs are black as are the mats under them. Green sinks in the back and cabinets overhead. Two mirrors on each wall and station with a name and family pictures decorate them. Eddie can’t help but notice that where you were sitting, there are only three pictures. A photo of you and Nancy looking like it was taken last summer, you’re holding up the keys to the blue ranch style house he now calls home. Another picture is of you Robin and Steve, in green Family Video Vests in front of the counter. You and Robin are both pulling one of Steve’s ears and he’s making a monkey face. The last picture is of you and Eyeball as kids, a portrait more than likely taken at a JC Penney’s.

“Don’t forget to lock up, okay? Enjoy your day off tomorrow. Eddie, be good to her!” Josie calls from the back, the heavy metal door slamming as she leaves for the night, a smile painted on her lips, shaking her head.

You walk back towards Eddie, he’s sitting in your chair, poking around at all of the different brushes and curling irons that were on your station. Your tired eyes scan him and find him in the mirror. “What is all this shit?”

“My tools to style, cut and color people’s hair.”

You’re standing behind him. You hesitantly grab one of his curls in between your fingers, noting how silky and smooth his hair is despite the split ends. “You could probably use a trim, Eddie. When was the last time you had your hair cut?”

“You think these curls have been in a salon? Please! I cut it myself thank you,”

“I can tell,” you mutter under your breath, going full hog and untying his sweaty bandana and tossing it onto the counter. “Come on, let’s go wash your hair, and then I’m gonna give you a trim.”

“You’re not cutting my hair.” Eddie protests, arms crossed and resisting.

“Your ends are dead, if you don’t take care of it now, it’ll keep going further up and then you’ll have to shave your head.”

Eddie practically trips standing up quickly. “Those are fighting words.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?” You ask in a bored tone.

“Actually no, but— okay fine! Only because you went to some fancy school.”

Eddie stomps over to the sink and sits down with a plop in the smooth cushioned black chair. You follow behind him and place your apron back around your neck, tightening it around your back. You lean his chair back telling him to lift his head from the headrest as you gather his curls into the basin.

Turning on the water and testing the temperature on your wrist, like a mother testing a bottle making sure it isn’t too hot for a baby, you gently put the spray into the ends of Eddie’s hair, gently working the spray up the length of his head to his scalp.

“Is the water okay?”

“Ow, holy shit!” Eddie yelps, his body flopping around like a fish out of water. You immediately turn the faucet the other way, apologizing profusely until you realize Eddie is shaking with laughter.

“Oh fuck, … you…” more laughing as he chokes out his words, “should have seen your face.” He mimics your face and bursts into a fit of giggles, you aren’t sure how long he would have kept it up if you didn’t put the hose directly into his face and throw a towel at him.

“Wipe that grin off your face or I’ll wax your eyebrows.” You spit at him, letting out a small laugh.

Mumbling from under the towel is faint but you swear you hear the word bikini.

Eddie finished cleaning his face and lays his head back into the sink again, you don’t ask this time but immediately start wetting his hair. “So,” he says, closing his eyes, so water won’t get in them, “I think I figured out what is wrong with your car.”

“Oh really? Is it going to be an easy fix?”

Not wanting to admit to you that he was working on your car for free or that he would borrow as many tools as he had to to get your car fixed, he settles for a half truth.

“Shouldn’t be too bad, gotta get some parts ordered for it.”

You let out a groan, “oh God— how much are they?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I just said, don’t worry about it, now treat me like one of your clients and tell me all the hot gossip in your life.”

Taking three giant pumps from the white shampoo bottle in the cabinet, you gently massage it into his scalp. Letting the cool smooth pearlescent liquid suds up. His hair feels like brown ropes of silk in your hands. All the years of having your hands in someone else’s hair were nothing compared to the odd feeling of lightly working the suds into Eddie’s mane. Baby soft. Luxurious in ways that contradicted the metalhead image he wore so well like a coat of armor.

You weren’t the only one admiring the way his hair felt in your hands.

Eddie is fighting hard not to melt into a puddle right there in Josie’s salon. Your hands were like magic against his scalp, your nails lightly scratching small circles against his skull. He was sure he’d fall asleep if he kept his eyes closed for any longer. It was the closest thing he could compare to what heaven would be like. Hints of tropical coconut mixed with crushed pineapple filled the air. He didn’t even realize you were talking until he opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of your mouth moving over him. Your face was concentrating on the story that you were telling, but it fell on deaf ears. He was in a trance. The scrape of your nails against his head was almost pornographic to him. The way your eyes were trained on the job at hand. The way your lips parted and moved as you told the story. The animated look in your eyes, sparkling with each slow blink, your eyelashes teasing him.

He had never noticed the features of your face before. Usually if he was this close you were staring up at him and pointing one of those glorious fingernails into his chest, yelling at him— eyebrows pulled in, your face set in a scowl. But now here you were, scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. Filling a void he wasn’t aware was missing. He could die right now and he wouldn’t even know it. It was almost orgasmic the way you were making him feel, all with just simply washing his hair.

He caught himself before you could notice it. He crossed his legs and willed himself to think of anything else. Shutting his eyes and imagining the least sexy thing he could think of. Not wanting to ruin the moment between you both and make you never want to trust him again because he had got an accidental semi while staring at you while you were wrist deep in shampoo, scrubbing his scalp like a woman in the 1800s washing clothes on a board in the creek bed.

Nobody had ever washed his hair before, that he could remember at least. He never wanted it to end.

“…but that’s crazy right? Like she’s a psycho!” The hazy fog of lust finally left Eddie’s mind, his other four senses returning. Looking at your face and seeing that you were hurt by the story you had explained, and ashamed that he wasn’t even listening, he agreed, not even knowing if he should.

“What a bitch.”

You giggled, smiling down at him. Finally realizing you had been scrubbing his hair for almost five minutes, lost in the story. A stupid distraction to force yourself away from the feeling of the silk length of his hair, the way it felt in your fingers. Not wanting to let it slip away. You gather it all in one hand and grab the hose with the other, starting at the crown of his forehead, you rinse the suds from his hair.

Bubbles circle the basin. Disappearing down the drain along with the same shared feelings of lust and yearning. Shoved down deep away from the surface, hidden beneath hardened surfaces, shielded away from the inner depths of the softening heart.

You ended up cutting half an inch from Eddie’s curls, careful to not lose yourself in his hair again, almost cutting yourself in the process. Hee watched with wide sad brown eyes with each snip. “It’s like I’m watching you cut parts of my soul away.”

You roll your eyes, “It’ll grow back, and when it does it’ll be healthier and longer.”

His bangs were the next to be trimmed, not even half an inch taken off. You place a leave-in conditioner spray to keep his curls soft and to help with the tangles. Knowing full well that Eddie didn’t even own a hair brush.

When you finish and are sweeping up his curls, Eddie stands shaking his head like a dog and running his fingers through it. “Alright, I’ll admit, it does feel better.”

Since the agreement was made for the band to practice every other day of the week in the garage, Eddie had been bringing you to work, and picking you up. On days the band wouldn’t be practicing, when he dropped you at home, he would leave immediately after, sometimes not showing up again until midnight. Coming home tired as all hell, and just like you had done weeks before, a Tupperware of food with instructions on how to warm it up taped to the lid, would be waiting for him in the fridge, each and every time.

There was no more yelling from you when the three members of Corroded Coffin showed up. There were also no more beer cans or greasy food wrappers on the ground either. Instead a trash can sat in the corner, and Eddie paid for pizza after you ordered it.

Actually the band was pretty good. You would never tell him that, that would simply go to his head. And with the ego he already had, he didn’t need another boost of confidence, leave that for the groupies. So every Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday night the band got together, playing covers from their beloved 80’s metal Gods and sometimes original songs they would write. All of them thankful that you let them practice in the garage, Big D picking you up into a bear hug and swinging you around like a rag doll.

“Jesus Christ, D, this is why the ladies run from you, you’re too aggressive, put her down!” Eddie barks. A pang of burning in his chest at the sight of you in someone else’s arms.

Big D sets you down and apologizes, “sorry Toots, and hey speaking of ladies, whatever happened with you and those hotter than hell twins?”

“Oh shit, Gareth hollered, “Fuck dude they were all over him, surprised he’s even able to walk with the way they were strung around him like cats in heat. You usually can’t wait to tell us about it, bragging until the next gig about it at least.”

“That’s cause he probably didn’t do shit, too chicken shit to handle them.”

Your stomach flips, so it wasn’t something you remembered wrong, there were two girls that Eddie had brought home that night. A strange feeling of angst washes over you, coating your mind with uncertainty mixed with inadequacy. Your cheeks warm, embarrassed by the way you are feeling. Excusing yourself to go order the pizza, you don’t see the way Eddie dismisses the guys, blowing them off with a “why don’t we keep our sexcapades to ourselves.” Or the way he throws a full beer at Big D.

After ordering the Corroded Coffin special, two large pepperonis, two large sweet and swine, and an extra large order of cheesy breadsticks— you go into the cupboard and bring out several bags of chips and five paper plates. Your favorite, sour cream and onion, and Eddie’s favorite, cool ranch Doritos. You let your mind wander. Thinking about him with those two girls. Realizing this is probably where he went at night after he dropped you off.

No need to feel like that when he was just your roommate, you shake the jealousy from your head. Just Eddie. Barely a friend. Yet he was still going out of his way to take you to work every day, till doing the chores you both shared. You let the silly feelings drop, carrying the chips and plates to the garage, shutting the door behind you. Pulling up your usual lawn chair, listen to the band play and finish painting your toenails.

When the boys end the song, they start again on the conversation they had started before playing, “dude I’m not dressing up as KISS again this year,” Jeff whines to Gareth “took me forever to get that white paint off my face. And don’t even get me started on the eyeliner.”

A spray of beer soaks the ground as Eddie spits it out, laughing hysterically about the memory of watching Jeff struggle lining his eyes like Paul Stanley. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “yeah I agree, I’m not painting your ugly mugs again this year, what else are you thinkin’?”

“We could all be different villains from scary movies. Freddy, Jason, Michael Myers’s, and Pinhead.” Big D suggests, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Nah, no chicks wanna fuck something scary. I don’t know about you— but I tried all of last Halloween to get some tail and no girl would even look my way with all that clown paint on.” Gareth huffs twirling his drum sticks in his fingers.

“What about you Tooty?” Eddie asks earnestly, “Do you and Robin go bar hoppin’ on Halloween or do you usually stay home like an old lady knitting sweaters and handing out black licorice and molding fruit?”

Making a face at him, you paint the last coat of polish on your toe nail. “Actually, Nancy and I usually throw a party. Costume contests, kegs, beer pong… we kinda go all out.”

Eddie picks his jaw up from the floor, scoffing, “no way— Nancy Wheeler and you, throwing a rager on Halloween? I don’t buy it.”

“Call Steve and ask him, he’s the reigning Cherry Lane Halloween costume contest winner for two years running.” You say with a smirk on your lips, stretching your legs and crossing them at your ankles, the pretty maroon polish catching the dim light in the garage. “You guys are more than welcome to come, obviously it’s on Halloween night, and the only stipulation is to bring a good costume, and $5 for the keg.”

Eddie moves his tongue over his teeth, twisting his body to look at his band mates, all three of them shrugging and nodding. “Yeah, we’ll be here,

“Yeah, if you think you’re up for it. Sure.” You say nonchalantly.

The smell of mildew and damp carpet currently being air dried with a fan stung your nose. The soggy basement and the crumbling foundation of Sally’s Secondhand in downtown Hawkins was a hidden gem and only open in the afternoons on Mondays and Wednesdays, but they had decent prices and good quality items when you were in a pinch if you could learn to breathe through your mouth for the time you were there.

“So how’s the roomie situation going?” Nancy asks, holding up a hand mixer with two mixing parts and a wooden handle labeled for .10¢. You had scored gold when you found a gently used, practically brand new waffle iron. It was wedged between two cook books for only $2. The same one Karen Wheeler had used on Sunday mornings. You were hunting for discounted Halloween decorations still not sure on what you were going to dress as and Halloween was this Saturday, Nancy was searching for spare camera parts for Jonathan and a toy cowboy hat for her costume that she wouldn’t tell you about.

Putting a masking taped bundle of forks into the blue plastic grocery basket, your forks magically kept disappearing everytime Eddie brought leftovers to work, you let out a sigh, “It’s going okay, better than it was in the beginning. He’s fixing my car up and I cut his hair a few weeks ago. I um.. also told him about Chad.”

Nancy stops dead in her tracks, blue eyes wide, her small mouth agape, “wh-what?!” Nancy was shocked at the news, you nonchalantly delivered like saying ‘fine’ when some asked how you were. She knew how frightening that situation was for you, it was scary for her too. Seeing someone she loved and cared about hurt in ways she couldn’t even fathom.

“We ran into him while getting groceries—like a month ago. I had a full blown panic attack, and Eddie, he helped me through it.” You go into detail explaining everything that had happened. Leaving out the part of you being comforted by Eddie and the gentle way his thick hands caressed you while you sobbed into him like a child who lost their cat.

Nancy's face goes from shock and softens into content, “wow, honestly didn’t think he had a caring bone in his body, he always seemed like such an asshole.”

“I mean he still is, don’t get me wrong— I don’t think he’s giving donations to the local churches or anything, but he seems a little more reserved, if you will,” you say, adding a floral embroidered set of towels for every day of the week to your basket.

“Hmm,” Nancy says with raised eyebrows, and nodding her head, a silent confirmation of approval. Always looking up to Nancy, almost as if she was your real life sister, you admired her. She was always put together, whether you were shopping during the week or at home, she was stylish in a way that said, I will run the world, and have dinner on the table at 6. Her white huarache sandals matched her high waisted pink pastel shorts and white button sleeveless blouse. Effortlessly stunning.

Moving along the aisles you and Nancy both finger through the clothing racks. Pulling out neon prints and a pair Madonna—esque white lace gloves, they probably belonged to that muppet singing idiot, Tammy Thompson. Chuckling at how fashion trends in high school were borderline ridiculous. a denim vest in your size with safety pins on each hem gave you an idea for your costume. Finding everything you needed you were ecstatic to put it all together.

The carpet squashed beneath your feet the further you got into the store. The back room held vhs’s, records, tapes, and books. The records were in a milk carton next to a shelf of adult themed books. The fading sharpie written sign reading “Adult fiction for Women 25 cents” posted bold along the top of the shelf. Nancy discreetly placed, “Thursday and the Lady” by Patricia Matthews into her basket, covering it with matching salt and pepper shakers, a crimson tinge to her rouged cheeks.

Diving into the records you flip them towards you as you lazily scan through them. Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, Thriller by Michael Jackson, Abbey Road by the Beatles, Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, stuck to the back of it was a small single, Ode to Billie Joe by Bobbie Gentry. It had been years since you heard it, tucking it into your basket, Nancy clears her throat nervously, the blush evident in her cheeks, “I’m ready if you are.”

The Saturday of Halloween the salon was closed, giving you Robin and Steve plenty of time to decorate for the party tonight. Eddie was working but was scheduled to get off around 5, just in time to come home and get his secret costume on.

Orange pumpkin printed garbage bags filled with autumn foliage lined the streets of Cherry Lane. Toilet paper streamers were in Mr. Derry’s tree, a prank the seniors of Hawkins High did to him every year, including egging his front door. Vinyl witches hung from doorknobs. Plastic ghosts holding jack-o-lanterns littered lawns. Fake strings of cotton resembling cobwebs with bendy plastic spider thrown around like glitter, lay atop shrubs. Orange lights were wrapped around the trees in your front yard, flimsy ghosts made of white sheets were hung from the branches. It was a child’s Halloween paradise.

“Higher, no lower, well now you’re just doing it wrong.” Steve was in charge of Robin who was in charge of decorations. The beer pong tournament would be in the basement, every strand of Christmas lights you could find were lighting the ceiling, table set up and cups in place. The tournament bracket started with Mike and El playing against Jeff and his girlfriend Ash. The kegs would be delivered later. Buckets ready for ice sitting on the deck. Robin and Steve were still arguing over who had the better costume last year. Twisting black and orange streamers together and hanging them in the doorway to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, you’re finishing up the Jell-O shots, small clear dishes full of cherry red jello made with everclear. A bitter threat to anyone brave enough to eat them. The spinach and artichoke dip is prepped in the fridge, along with 10 packages of crescent rolls, 5 packages of hotdogs, the fruit cut and ready to be put into Steve’s horrendous Jungle Juice that you would actively be avoiding. Nancy and Jonathan were bringing pinwheels and rotel dip. Dustin and Susie are in charge of bringing candy. It’s going to be a blast.

“Be right back,” Robin and Steve call out as they leave to go get their costumes. Putting the finishing touches on your costume your hand shakes with nervousness while swiping mascara on your lashes, the pre party jitters wracking your nerves. The ring of the doorbell startles you. The obnoxious ringing should be a dead giveaway but you don’t recognize it until the door is wide open and you’re face to face with Jesus Christ himself and three nuns. Or as you knew them, Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Big D.

You aren’t sure whose mouth is hanging open more. Yours or Eddie’s. Eddie is wearing a long sleeved cream colored gown, complete with a crimson sash. His usual black leather boots on his feet and a crucifix in his hand.

Eddie is the first to laugh, hands held out like he’s blessing the house before he enters it. “Aww sweetheart, you really are my #1 fan aren’t you?”

You are dressed as the most annoying on the planet, pain in the ass, voted most perverted of all of Hawkins: Eddie. When shopping with Nancy you found the vest, adding a few hand sewn patches and the best replica of Eddie’s DIO patch on the back, even shoving a pack of reds into the pocket, it looked pretty good. A twin of the aforementioned jackass. Borrowing Nancy’s cheap leather jacket when she went as Sandy from Grease last year, and putting holes into a pair of jeans and washing them as many times as you could to fray the edges, it was perfect. Complete with a horrible curly wig that you thought was a life dog upon seeing it.

“I was going for scary and scary annoying,” you shrug, “think I nailed it.”

“As hilarious and surprisingly accurate your costume is, the real winner for the party is going to be us” He gestured to him and the nuns. “figured I’d go as something that everyone says I need more of and you recognize the boys right? They’re dressed as your friends from work.”

The kegs finally show up and Eddie blesses the delivery man before he leaves. Fully throwing himself into character. Dustin and Susie are the first to arrive, dressed as Mrs. Doubtfire and Sally Ride, the first woman astronaut to go into space.

Dustin laughs so hard he cries at your costume. “Oh my God please you have to say, ‘forced conformity, it’s what’s killing the kids!’ Please Tooty Holy shit!”

Mimicking Eddie perfectly you saunter away and scream about society and how good Metallica is.

“Oh haha, so funny Tooty,” Eddie pouts, holding a beer funnel in his hands, “come on Henderson let’s see you put your money where your mouth is.”

The backyard is sprayed with foamy beer as Dustin very much can not put his money where his mouth is. Gareth’s up next, chugging like a champion and doing a lap around the backyard like he won a trophy. Eddie and Jeff shotgun beer, Eddie winning by a mile. Laughing and putting his hands in a praying gesture to bless Jeff for his shortcomings.

The rest of the party goers show up, Nancy is dressed like Annie Oakley wielding a fake shotgun and a straw cowboy hat and a long brown dress with fringe hanging from the shoulders. Jonathan and his long haired friend Argyle arrive behind Nancy dressed as Sonny & Cher. Argyle had given up the fast moving life in California once a Surfer Boys pizza arrived in Hawkins. He delivered to the house so much during the nights that Corroded Coffin was practicing that he had your order prepped and ready to go by the time you had called it in. He’d show up so blitzed out of his mind that he’d forget he was at work, sharing his different strains of weed with all the Corroded Coffin boys.

Robin and Steve are in the kitchen, ladling jungle juice into empty cups. The duo dressed as Thelma and Louise, Robin wearing a black muscle shirt and sunglasses, and Steve wore a white tank top with a neckerchief. Both talking in horrible southern accents.

Eddie is standing next to Argyle in the living room both holding almost empty cups of the forbidden jungle juice, deep in conversation about something called Purple Palm Tree Delight, but knowing them, it had nothing to do with a lavender paradise. You reach around Eddie to grab a pinwheel, taking a bite when Argyle, clearly stoned, goes wide eyed leaning into Eddie his eyes still transfixed on you he whisper yells.

“Yo, I swear to God, I just saw two of you.”

“Argyle it’s me, Tooty.” You explain standing next in front of them trying not to laugh. “This is the real Eddie, I’m just dressed like him for Halloween.”

Argyle leans forward and whispers into your ear, “Yeah okay man that’s what the aliens would say before they clone us and take over.”

He leans back and takes two big steps backwards, eyes wide in a horrified daze, before disappearing down into the basement.

“Don’t think I’ve ever said this before, but that guy smokes way too much.” Eddie chuckles, downing the rest of his jungle juice and eating the fruit at the bottom of the cup.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn him watching with your own gut twisting as the sweet juices of strawberry slither down his chin and down the slope of his neck.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says, smacking his lips, “I’m twenty six years old, I can handle my liquor.”

“Okay,” you reply, “just so you know, the fruit soaks up all the alcohol and Steve presoaks it all in everclear the night before. Last time he ate all the fruit he spent an hour in the bathroom crying about his love life or lack thereof. And besides, we have to play in the pong tournament in a half hour.”

“We?” Eddie asks, lips turned up and a slight blush to his cheeks, “I didn’t sign up for beer pong.” His dark eyes pour into yours.

Heat creeps up your neck as you reach for a Jell-O shot cracking the lid off and circling the dish with your finger before sucking it into your mouth.

“I signed you up,” you say, reaching for another Jell-O shot, “everyone had a partner but Argyle and Will, so I paired you with Argyle, and I’m with Will,” you slide your finger around the Jell-O dish and suck the cherry gelatin into your mouth, savoring the bitter bite to your tongue before you crush it between your teeth.

“You better bring your A game Munson,” you say, taking a step into him and poking him in the chest, “because I don’t lose.”

Eddie isn’t sure if it’s the alcohol that’s making him feel this way or you but suddenly he can’t stop blushing, laying the charm on thicker than peanut butter, “oh really?” he asks intrigued, “Well babe, I don’t think you know this but I’m the Forest Hills Trailer Park Pong Champion for eight summers in a row, so technically,” he’s leaning forward now, whispering low to get his point across. Your breath hitches in your throat, you can feel the tickle of his lips against your ear, his hair is brushing against your face, the faint smell of motor oil stuck in his curls, “I never lose either.”

He pulls back and your eyes lock. The heat flooding your cheeks burn, the ache in your stomach travels south and pulses with want. You can’t deny it to yourself, even dressed as Jesus Christ, Eddie is the best looking guy you’ve laid eyes on, and you were melting at the way his dark eyes gazed into yours, a smirk placed on his lips as he brushes his tongue over his bottom lip to catch the remnants of the horrific fruit juice. His eyes never leave yours as he takes the Jell-O shot dish you’re holding and sets it behind him on the table. The tension could be cut with a knife, thick and heavily hanging in the space between you both. Eddie opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by El screaming for Mike to get to the backyard instead of puking in the kitchen sink. Her Alice in Wonderland wig askew on her head and holding Mike’s mad hatter hat between her hands.

Running to open the sliding door you get it open just in time for Mike to projectile vomit off the deck.

“Christ, what did he eat?” Eddie asks from behind you, “damn Mike you’re such a pussy!”

“His dumbass didn’t eat all day and when he got here he decided that Jell-O and fruit would be a good option.” El says, rubbing his back as he pukes again and again, “I don’t feel bad for you Mike!”

Wiping his mouth on his forest green jacket sleeve, he murmurs, “Babe, I’m fine, seriously, a few pieces of bread and I’ll be in tip top sh—“ puke splatters wetly against the grass again.

You grab El’s hand and squeeze, “let me know if you need anything, okay?” She nods and smiles sweetly.

“C’mon,” Eddie says behind you, “let’s go so I can kick your ass in beer pong.”

You turn your head, half facing him, “game on, Munson.”

The sharpie bracket on poster board continued moving forward thanks to Steve’s basketball knowledge. Jeff and Ash beat Mike and El, Nancy and Jonathan beat out Gareth and Big D in a very close came both opponents having one cup left. Steve and Robin were beat out in the first round by Dustin and Susie, something King Steve would never be living down. Nex on the bracket to play would be you and Will playing Argyle and Eddie. Honestly it should be a piece of cake, a walk in the park. Will wasn’t the most athletic but last year him and Jonathan got second place against you and Nancy so the odds were pretty high. One thing you were absolutely certain of was that you would not be losing to Jesus and Cher tonight.

The basement is packed with everyone besides the ill Mike and faithful El. Argyle and a pink lensed Will are in the corner smoking a fat blunt the sequin jacket he’s wearing sparkles through the haze of smoke and the catches the lights. You haven’t seen him since Nancy and Jonathan’s wedding. But he’s letting his hair grow out, finally letting the bowl cut Joyce insisted on him having all throughout middle school and high school go. Steve has Dustin in a headlock for teasing him about winning against Mr. Hawkins High basketball star of 1985.

“Ya know for once, I was actually good, like really good, Steve overthrew the last cup and it was game over once Susie got the ball. She’s strangely amazing at beer pong. Probably found the mathematical equation from the distance of the table and her elbow to the solo cups.” Robin rambles on, only stopping to get her breath. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all night. Killer costume by the way, if you can’t beat ‘em be ‘em right?”

Robin and her absolute no filter mouth, always make you laugh, linking your arm with hers, “I really like your and Steve’s take on best friends driving off a cliff together to evade police.”

“JESUS CHRIST!” someone yells from upstairs.

Not missing a beat, Eddie can be heard returning the exclamation. “You rang?”

Rolling your eyes and looking his way, you laugh when you see him, holding up his arms in praise.

Robin’s voice bringing you back to the conversation, “Epic right? Steve thought we could be conjoined twins but then decided against it when he figured there was a small chance he could possibly get lucky tonight when that black haired girl at his job kept hinting that she wanted a date with him.”

“What!” you shout, “He never told me this!”

Robin rolls her eyes and takes another drink from her too foamy beer, “he’s nervous, I think he really likes her but doesn’t wanna fuck it up like he does everything else.”

Steve deserved to be happy and to have someone love him. He was always making sure everyone else was okay, you smile at the thought of him with a girlfriend.

“So,” Robin presses, wiggling her eyebrows, “Eddie looks good tonight,” a wicked smile dances wildly on her lips.

“I’m not at all buzzed enough to have this conversation,” you say, taking a peak at Eddie through your eyelashes, he was laughing loudly at something Steve had said, head thrown back, exposing his neck.

Will joins your side, reeking of weed and heavy musk cologne. “Tooty!” He squeals, wrapping you into a tight hug, “the house looks so fucking good I can’t believe it, also I heard that you’re living with Eddie? I’m going to need all the details!”

“It’s so good to see you, look at your hair!” You say holding his arms. Will threads a hand through his hair and laughs a little.

“Thanks, it’s new but it’s kinda growing on me, now, spill it. Tell me everything.”

“Next game!” Nancy announces, advancing her and Jonathan to the next bracket. “Argyle/ Eddie vs Tooty/ Will.”

Will grabs your hand and drags you to the beer pong table, “after?” He asks and you nod your head.

Eddie and Argyle are standing on one end, you and Will on the other. The cups are arranged into a triangle and filled with the warming pitcher of keg beer.

“You ready to go down groveling, sweetheart?” Eddie sings from across the table, eyes squinting when he leans on the edge of the table smiling at you.

Your stomach flutters, taking a long swig of Will’s jungle juice, staring Eddie down as you gulp the vile liquor and fruit punch combo down, “You ready to get your ass kicked, Munson?”

“Woo! That’s balls back ba-by,” you sneer, hooting and hollering as Eddie begrudgingly tosses the balls back your way. It was almost as if Argyle and Will weren’t even there, this game was between you and Eddie. You were definitely buzzed, between the warm beer and the Jell-O shots you had eaten you were feeling good.

When you miss the first cup, Eddie makes devil horns at you and howls at the moon like an idiot. You sink the next cup, earning a high-five from Will, and a sly grin from Eddie as he removes the cup and chugs the warm beer. He’s secretly excited that you’re so happy, letting loose, in your element, surrounded by your loving friends. You glowing with a sense of freedom. In that moment when your eyes caught his, he knew he was in trouble, you were wrapped around his finger and he didn’t think of hardly anything else, but you, your beautiful smile, the way your hair caught each light you were under. He was in deep, and for right now, he was perfectly and utterly okay with that.

It’s Argyle’s turn and he surprisingly sinks both cups, being awarded with balls back, as you and Will each take a cup and drink the suds down. Trying to distract him, you whip off your Eddie- esque wig and toss it towards Eddie, shaking your hair out like a wild woman.

Unphased by your antics he does it again and you groan. Four in a row? This guy was half asleep the entire game and all of a sudden he’s an athlete? They only have 1 cup left. Tension rises and the room goes to silence at Steve’s request. Argyle sinks it. Eddie erupts into cheers grabbing Argyle by the shoulders and jumping up and down.

“Redemption attempt!” Steve shouts, giving Will the ball. Will takes it with nervous fingers, blowing the ball to dry it slightly as you chug the last cup. He only has two cups to make. Will tosses the ball and the room goes silent, it feels like it’s in slow motion, or maybe that’s the alcohol. The ball soars through the air, bouncing against the rim of the cup lapping up the foamy beer, before it falls off and teeters off onto the table.

Argyle raises both hands in the air, “VICTORY!” the room erupts with cheers. Will apologizes profusely but you hug him tight, telling him you were happy he was your partner.

“Next game is Jonathan/Nancy vs Jeff/ Ash starting in 20 mins!” Steve hollers. The basement clears out as people go upstairs to use the bathroom and refill their drinks.

You expect Eddie to be gloating, cocky beyond belief. But he’s the opposite, coming up to you slowly, head bowed, upper teeth practically biting his lower lip in half.

“Good game sweetheart,” he says barely above a whisper, “not gonna lie, I really thought you guys were gonna win.”

Holding your chin high, face only inches from his, the brown pools of colored whiskey stare into your eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, the alcohol gives you enough of a push to cross the line. The thin gauzy material of the gown he’s wearing is sticky with sweat and warm from the heat radiating from his body. “Told myself I wouldn’t lose to Cher and Jesus tonight.”

Eddie let’s out a throaty laugh, “can’t believe he pulled that off, he didn’t make a cup all game.”

“Guess you get to continue wearing that tarnished crown, speaking of wardrobe… where the hell did you get this outfit?”

“You know that church across from the police station?”

“The one with the Jesus statue inside?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and gives you a knowing glance, waiting for you to catch on.

“No way! Eddie! You broke into a church and stole an outfit off of a statue?”

“Amen,” Eddie says roaring with laughter, “ahh c’mon you can’t tell me it wasn’t a genius idea.”

Rolling your eyes, “I wouldn’t exactly call it genius, but funny? Yes.”

He laughs again, “not everyday I get a compliment from myself,” he says eyeing your costume, “you do make a pretty cute Eddie Munson if I say so myself.” he wasn’t even thinking anything of it, just blurted it right out.

Flirting came easy to him almost as a second nature, he was never nervous around women, usually finding the game of sex not just something he was good at but conquered with ease. But this, here, with you? Was a slippery slope. A different game for him entirely. He was a pawn amongst you and you were the queen, striking down whoever came near, holding all the power.

Your cheeks heat from his compliment, blood rushing through your body and warming your skin, he holds your hand to your chest, stroking your fingers with his thumbs.

A thousand bolts of lightening ignite you, he smells like smoke, ashy and burning, the cheap keg beer on his breath as he smiles softly at you.

“Tooty!” Steve calls from the top step, clinging onto it for dear life, “are you down there?!”

You’re the first one to break away, pulling your hand from his grasp, threading them together at the last minute, finger tips clinging to each other like velcro. The flames between you both extinguished fast, no oxygen left in the room to keep it going.

Getting to the bottom step and turning, you give him one last glance and a small smile, before trotting up the stairs to Steve.

Eddie opens the patio door to find Gareth and Big D blowing smoke into the sky and talking about the best DIO song.

“Shit man, where have you been? Didn’t your game end like 15 minutes ago?”

Eddie thinks of a lie quick, “Taking a piss why you wanna watch?”

“That’s weird,” Big D questions, “cause Gareth just came out of the bathroom unless there’s a magic bathroom you haven’t told us about.”

“What are you guardian of the toilet?” Eddie says slotting a cigarette between his teeth and flicking his zippo open.

“I mean he’s got a point,” Gareth interjects, “where have you been tonight, turning water into wine? Or are you healing the blind?”

“Cool it, Whoopi,” Eddie bites, “the fuck does it matter where I was or wasn’t?”

“You’ve changed dude. Used to be a ladies man, different chick every night. Smoking and drinking all night watching the sunrise. Fuck man you were hell on wheels. Then all of a sudden you move in here and you’re acting like the Pope, fixing up her car off the clock, bringing her to and from work, you’re like her fucking babysitter.” Gareth exclaims.

“Fuck off man, she’s Eyeball’s sister, and I’m just looking out for her.” Eddie grits through his teeth.

“Or,” Big D suggests, “you like her, I mean you still haven’t even told us about the twins— and you stare at her like she’s about to combust at any moment.”

“Yeah and what do you two know about anything?” Eddie spits.

“Clearly not shit, but you’re all fucking riled up about a girl you don’t like.” Gareth flicks his cigarette and goes inside, Big D following.

The door opens again, “listen man, I’m not in the mood for your stupid fucking advice.” Eddie groans, turning to see Steve standing at the door, an empty pitcher in his hand. “Shit, sorry, thought you were Gareth.”

“Nope kept my habit at home,” Steve says with a chuckle, setting the pitcher on the edge of the deck, “nice party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “ya know when Tooty first told me that her and Nancy threw a party every year I didn’t believe it, turns out I was wrong about her, seems to be a theme of mine lately.”

“She doesn’t let a lot of people in, but once you’re here, it means she trusts you, respects you.” Steve explains.

Eddie smiles softly, ashing his cigarette.

“She cares about you, ya know? She might not want to admit it— may even be scared to admit it to herself, but she likes you.”

Eddie gives him a look. Sure you were nicer to him, not threatening to kick him out anymore. You had let the band practice in the garage, even staying out there to hear them play. But that didn’t mean anything did it?

“How many times do you think she’s cut my hair?” Steve inquires, leaning next to the railing on the deck beside Eddie.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says honestly, “a dozen?”

Steve chuckles, “Never, not once, never even offered. You think she made elaborate meals for Nancy when they lived together? Wrong— she barely touched the stove. You move in and she’s changed, for the better. It’s like she’s coming back to life, and the only common thing in that equation, is you.”

Eddie mulls this over, could Steve be right? “I don’t know man.”

“I may not be Mr. Relationship but I do know Tooty, and you’ve softened her edges. Tamed that frightful girl we all love and adore. She’s got walls up, keeping people out, but not around you, not anymore.”

Eddie hangs his head, his heart bursting with sad euphoric bliss. He couldn’t go about this like any other conquest. And with you it would never be how it was with the other women. Faceless broads in mini skirts, praising him, doing whatever he wanted them to. He never saw you in that way. Holding you on a pedestal about the rest. He hadn’t been in a relationship in years. One too many times of being cheated on was enough for him. But you were hurt too, more so than he was. He was still licking his wounds with anything willing and able. You? You were a shell of yourself. He couldn’t act on this like he would with anyone else. He cared about you too damn much to make you feel like you couldn’t trust him again.

“And I know you care about her. Everytime I look at you you’re staring at her like a sad little puppy.”

Eddie looks up then, looking at Steve like he held all the answers to life’s questions. He turns and leans against the deck, elbows on the railing just how Steve was facing the house.

“Yeah, you’re right, I do care about her, more than anything. So what do I do?” He asks Steve.

Steve shrugs, letting out a loud sigh, “keep doing what you’re doing, she knows you care about her, just don’t disappear on her.”

Eddie turns his head from Steve and catches sight of you through the patio doors. He can see you taking a Jell-O shot with El, Robin and Nancy. A sleeping lump of clothes on the kitchen table with black hair must be Mike. You light up the room as you laugh when Robin makes a repulsive expression after taking her Jell-O shot. He can’t hear your full laugh, it’s faint through the glass. But, he doesn’t need to hear it to know the sound—having heard it more and more the last few weeks, the way you throw your head back when something is really funny, sometimes covering your mouth. He’s certain he’s never seen anyone more angelic in his life. Like you have sucked all the air from the room, even dressed in a sheer mockery of him, you’re radiating a glow that makes his heart swell. He has never cared about anyone the way that he does for you.

Seeing him through the doors standing next to Steve, he has a smirk on his face. A sudden rush of shyness creeps up your neck and you turn away from him, but you reciprocate his actions, smiling at him. A small gesture that melts him on the spot.

Eyes trained on you but still talking to Steve, Eddie beams, “I’m not going anywhere.”

A/n: see you in volume vii

Hope you all enjoyed this. There were some little hidden Easter eggs in this chapter, go to my askbox if you found them 💕

readmore eat my ass or this line you decide, whore.

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#eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie x y/n #stranger things season 4 #stranger things #eddie munson smut

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zhonglism · 28 days

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MOON TIE

— suguru geto x f! reader

18+ MDNI; rigger!geto, bottom!reader, smut, bondage (shibari/kinbaku), unprotected semi-public s*x (in a studio), suspension s*x (reader is tied up in a moon tie while doing it lol), all consensual, oral (f receiving), brief clit slapping, light dirty talking, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetheart, baby, my pretty, my darling), the tie done in this fic is the ‘moon tie suspension’ for reference.

word count: 4k

notes: re-published work from my old (deactivated) account, not plagiarising :>

“do you trust me?” his voice, smooth and velvety, just above a whisper, ghosting over your ears inside the dimly lit room.

suguru always asked this question before starting the private lesson—to solidify the bond between the rigger and the bottom. shibari wasn’t just about the act of binding someone or being bound, it was more than that; the consent, the art of intricate rope patterns, the intimacy between two people.

before you was a wooden suspension rig which donned a ‘swing-set’ style frame; suguru stood behind your figure, you could feel his tall frame looming as his question floated along the thick air of the room, waiting to be answered. “yes.” a breathy tone slipped past your lips, one that you didn’t intend—you couldn’t help it, not when the growing tension went unnoticeable. the lesson hasn’t even started and yet ever since you stepped foot in the room 10 minutes ago, the atmosphere shifted.

it was like both of you were walking on egg shells in each other’s presence, as if a single wrong move would result in something dangerous. the glint in suguru’s eyes confirmed that but nonetheless, as your rigger, he remained nothing but absolutely professional. although you can’t help think about his lingering touches during the last session—the way his palm rested against the inside of your thigh a little longer; the way his chest pressed against your back; the way his fingers rubbed the crimson rope marks on your arm.

a satisfied hum came from behind, followed by his footsteps walking away from you—to grab the rope, you assumed. “i-i want to try something new. .” turning around, you watched suguru walked towards you with a scarlet jute rope in his hands. he tutted, “not with that hesitancy in your tone, no.”

a deflated sigh left your lips, “just hear me out.” your rigger stood before you, arms crossed over his chest, head tilted to the side. you took upon his silence as a sign to keep going but you found your cheeks heating at the thought of it—the words forming on your tongue. suguru watched as the gears turned in your head, your expression somewhat flustered and deep in thought. he shook his head, “no, we’re not trying it.” suguru sighed before walking towards the wooden suspension rig.

you let out a sigh of disappointment. “shibari is all about the art of experimenting but that comes with the great cost of consent and confidence. i won’t force anything you’re uncomfortable about nor introduce new themes if i sense your hesitancy. rope bondage is something to take seriously or you can end up seriously injured.” that’s what he told you during your first lesson. suguru sensed a sign of hesitancy in you twice, which means your idea was most likely off the plate.

fuck it.

“i want to do it naked.”

you watched as suguru stopped in his tracks, his ebony strands were tied in a bun, exposing the back muscles stiffening under the white tank top he donned; the singular spotlight pointed at the middle of the room—at the suspension rig—casted harsh shadows upon his physique, defining every dip and curve of his body. looking over his shoulder, suguru held your gaze but remained silent. “it’s nothing new for you, right? i want to experience it all.” that’s right. as a professional rigger, it wasn’t new to him to encounter naked models while in practice.

you’ve attended some of his performances where suguru worked his ropes on a naked model. seeing him up on the stage with someone else’s naked body on display had your stomach turning, even if suguru was completely professional about it. “i can already do suspension, so what’s the difference with having no clothes on?”

a lot. one big difference was that you were going to be suspended in the air naked. you knew that but it wasn’t like you were trying anything completely new. a velvety chuckle tore through the deafening silence of the room, “for once, you’re going to be completely naked and at my mercy.” suguru rolled his shoulders, muscles flexing at the movement before continuing towards the suspension rig. at his mercy. did he have to word it that way? the corner of his lip tugged up as he watched your thighs rub together, it was a subtle action but suguru was all about subtlety.

“i know that, and i’m okay with it.” oh god. you didn’t know why you were so pushy today. usually, all you did was follow suguru’s instructions as he guided you through the ropes. “my darling, do you know what you’re getting yourself into?” your knees almost buckled at the pet name but you stood your ground, holding his ebony gaze. suguru has your full consent, there was nothing else, really. he sighed but his face showed amusement, the light illuminating his handsome features.

“changing room is to the left, there are robes inside for you to slip into and a cabinet for your clothes. i’ll be here once you’re done.” a tinge of crimson painted his cheeks, paired with a slight waver in his velvet voice. you nodded wordlessly and didn’t waste any time to get undressed. suguru let out a loud sigh he’s been keeping as he heard the door closed shut; he dropped the scarlet rope on the ground, a thud bouncing from wall to wall as he face palmed, fully aware of his blush.

suguru cleared his throat as he watched your robed figure quietly pad over to where he stood, his mind spun at the thought of your naked body beneath the ivory cotton fabric—how it rubbed against your bare skin. his hands should be the one doing that, not some fabric. you noticed the way suguru’s chest heaved up and down, harsh breaths leaving his nose as you begun to untie the soft belt around your waist. your rigger found himself scampering to grab the rope off the ground, keeping his best to remain professional and to avoid gawking at your body.

in reality, his professionalism was hanging by a single thread. a thread bound to snap sooner or later.

suguru didn’t dare look up once he heard the soft fabric fall to the wooden floor, he could see from the corner of his eyes as it pooled around your bare feet. suddenly the jute rope in his palms were much more interesting, onyx eyes scanning the scarlet swirls of the rope. “i’m ready.” he almost jumped at your whispered tone, causing him to immediately look up from the rope. suguru sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes traced your naked body, light illuminating the parts he has never seen before.

fuck. he can already tell what your bare figure would look like all bound and suspended in the air. completely at his mercy.

surprisingly, you didn’t feel small under his piercing gaze but your heart hammered against your chest. you felt tranquil, like you weren’t inside your body, as if someone else was controlling every single action and emotion you had. is this what it felt like to be zen? to be at peace with your body and mind?

suguru cleared his throat once again, palm tightening around the rope. “right. last session, i introduced you to a new tie called the ‘moon tie’. this time, we’ll try the ‘moon tie suspension’ where you’ll be suspended in the air. the position is a bit different from last time, so do let me know if you’re beginning to feel uncomfortable.”

your rigger stood behind you, “i’ll start with the xana chest harness but this time with your arms bound behind your back. may i?” you could feel suguru’s breath ghost over your bare back, leaving goosebumps under its phantom touch. not trusting your voice, you nodded, placing your arms behind your back. a shaky breath slips past your lips as you feel the scarlet rope wrap bind your wrists together—a feeling you’re accustomed to but now with you bare body, you can feel the entirety of the rope, the roughness of it without any fabric barrier.

suguru looped the rope around your torso, making sure it’s snug enough to hold you suspended but also safe for you to breathe and stay comfortable while in the air. you bite your lip at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your breasts while looping the rope around your front and bringing it back. standing perfectly still with your arms behind your back, your body jerks along with every tug suguru does as he works the rope around your torso—your rigger stands before you, looping it over and under the previous ties he has done.

you study his concentrated face while he works on your chest. so professional. you think to yourself. in reality, suguru is almost losing his mind, his face so close to your naked breasts and yet all he can really do is brush his hands against them. oh, how he would like to massage them and listen to the moans that slip past your lips. maybe even pop a mound in his mouth, hot tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple over and over again—fuck what was he thinking?

a few more tugs here and there, your rigger admires the intricate rope work around your torso—he takes a couple of steps to circle you, making sure the lines are neat and snug. suguru noticed the way your breasts look with the scarlet rope woven around it, he slightly fiddles with the waist band of his ivory loose pants, a sinful feeling stirring between his legs. “i’ll move onto the moon tie.”

your body heats at the rough texture of the rope rubbing against your bare skin, it wasn’t painful nor uncomfortable but it did things to you. “do tell me if you feel anything out of sort, be as vocal as you want.” suguru voices out before starting the moon tie. he weaves the rope into the chest harness, kneeling down to loop it around each thigh—hands lingering on your inner thigh a little longer than needed. you bite back a moan as suguru tugs the rope, giving you a pleasurable friction near the apex of your legs. so close yet so far.

before you know it, the scarlet rope that suguru had was perfectly woven around your body, intricate loops and patterns accentuated your features. he helped you on a small step stool to prepare for the suspension, grabbing an extra rope to tie you on the suspension rig. “comfortable?” “as always.” you reassure him. suguru nods, walking to your right side, “i mentioned before that this one is a bit different than the previous moon tie we did. the suspension requires tying your ankle to the rig.”

a warm palm encased around your right ankle, securing the jute rope around it before lifting it up and tying it on the wooden rig. with one ankle lifted, it placed you in a compromising position—legs far apart and your cunt in full view, all for suguru to admire. once the ankle tie was secured around the suspension rig, he took a step back to admire the art before him—a slight tent in his pants forming at the sight of you at his mercy.

you looked absolutely breathtaking. the way the scarlet rope hugged your body just right, the fat of your skin bulging from it’s snug fit. oh, how he wished to take you right then and there.

suguru’s eyes glossed over your exposed cunt glistening under the warm lighting. he didn’t mean to say it out loud, he had no intentions of even speaking about it but it just came out. “you’re wet.” the rigger before you pointed out, gaze locked on the apex of your legs. your first instinct was to close them but the rough scarlet rope that bound you kept them in place, cheeks heating at the restriction. “. . why don’t you do something about it, then?”

“that won’t be professional of me.” his words betrayed his actions.

one. two steps and he was right in front of your wet cunt. bringing a slender finger to your right inner thigh and dragging it towards the spot where you yearned for him the most. a muttered curse slips past your lips as suguru’s digit teased you. up and down, up and down his finger trailed but never near your cunt. now you completely understood being at his mercy—hands bound behind your back, ankle tied to the suspension rig, body suspended mid-air; you couldn’t do anything other than take what he gives you, or not what he gives you.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” he hummed, dropping to his knees so he was at eye level with your wet folds. the first day you stepped foot in his studio, eyes wide with curiosity, suguru fantasised about you—how your body would look bound and suspended in the air, your most intimate parts exposed all for him to admire and touch.

the last thread of his professionalism snapped. all he wanted was you, now.

he moved closer, breath fanning over your cunt. “suguru, please. .” your body wiggled against the restraint, arms dying to grab his head and press his face between the apex of your legs. he hummed, tongue darting out to lick a long stripe towards your clit. you shuddered at the feeling of his hot tongue, a broken moan in the form of his name hangs in the thick air. “that’s it. i like it when you’re vocal for me, sweetheart.” suguru purred before diving into the heat of your cunt.

you tasted just as delicious as you looked. suguru ate you out with such fervour—tongue plunged deep inside you, exploring the parts he has never touched before. he groaned against your cunt, sending vibrations which had your body shuddering with pleasure. “fuck. . ! just like that—mhm!” the scarlet rope left marks on your arms as you tugged against it, needing some kind of object to hold on to, to keep you grounded as you awaited your impending orgasm.

lewd sounds filled the studio, with every slurp of suguru’s mouth, the sounds bounced around the walls, engulfing your ears. his large hand slapped your clit, causing you to jerk at the sudden pleasure jolting up your body. “a-ah! yes, i’m so near—ngh. . !” you let out a heated gasp as suguru harshly sucked on your cunt, hand still stimulating your swollen bud just above his nose. he grunted, signalling you to cum all over his tongue.

and you did. you threw your head back, body wriggling against the restraint as you cried out his name, a pleasurable pain rubbing on your bare skin which was sure to leave evident marks. suguru hungrily lapped your essence, tongue languidly licking up every bit of cum that trickled out of your cunt, groaning in satisfaction. he rode out your orgasm by rubbing slow, soft circles on your clit—muttering saccharine praises near your cunt.

suguru stood up and made his way in front of you, lacing his hand beneath your jaw to pull you in a passionate kiss. you groaned into the kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. so lewd, so dirty and yet you wanted more. your body jolted as his free hand wandered to your bare chest, palm ghosting over your pert nipples in a teasing manner. “i want you so bad.” suguru whispered as he broke the kiss, lips softly grazing over your own while he held your gaze.

a small smirk formed as he watched you chase his lips, attempting to lean forward to seal the distance, only to be held back. “you have me. . at your mercy.” suguru’s eyes were the colour of space, dark, vast, and mysterious but it held the universe inside it. “fuck . . you can’t tease me like this.” he groaned, the growing tent in his pants became uncomfortable with every passing second. “‘m not teasing you, suguru. i want you just as bad as you want me.” he held your gaze for a few seconds before his arms worked on the white tank top he wore.

you sucked in a sharp breath—eyes tracing his god-like physique. the light above contoured suguru’s muscles, casting sharp shadows that added depth to each curve and dip of his body. you wanted to run you hands all over his torso, to feel his muscles flexing beneath your palms while exploring his body but to your dismay, your arms remained secured behind your back.

suguru didn’t hesitate to discard his pants and underwear in one swift movement, the fabric pooled around his ankles. your eyes were glued to his hard cock, standing proudly against his abdomen, it’s red tip was already leaking with pre-cum. fuck, he was big. suguru groaned as his palm wrapped around the shaft, giving it languid strokes as he worked his pre-cum all over his cock.

“just the thought of you suspended mid-air like this. . fucking you while you’re restrained is driving me crazy. would you be a good girl and take it all? or would you squirm beneath my touch, beg to be untied? mmm, i can have my way with you. .”

your cunt clenched around nothing as you watched your rigger pleasure himself, fisting his cock again and again. he situated himself between your parted legs, one hand holding his hard cock to tease the angry tip up and down your folds, alternating between rubbing and slapping in against your wet cunt. “s-suguru. . !” you gasped, hands balling into fists at the bare contact. “please, no teasing.”

“eager, aren’t we?” suguru eased his cock in before you could come up with a retort. your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape, head thrown back as his cock parted you. strings of curses and broken moans left your lips as suguru inched his way inside your tight walls, he gripped your thighs for support, to at least keep him grounded while his head spun at your cunt wrapped around his hard cock.

he stood there for a moment, cock fully sheathed inside you as he let you adjust to his size because fuck was he big, it also gave suguru time to pace himself—making sure not to cum right then and there with the way you clenched around him. “please move, suguru . .” you pleaded, attempting to wiggle your hips to chase some kind of friction down there.

suguru’s breathless chuckle filled your ears. he planted a chaste kiss on your right ankle—the one bound to the suspension rig—before slowly pulling his hips back and slamming into your sopping cunt; you both fell into a unison of moans, desperate pornographic sounds intertwining with one another to create a perfect melody—suguru’s deep groans mixed with your dainty sounds. his nails dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving crescent shaped marks on your soft skin.

you squirmed, eyes shut tightly as the blunt tip of his cock repeatedly kissed your cervix. the position you were suspended in allowed suguru’s cock to reach deeper into your cunt, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. wet squelches echoed throughout the studio, your essence dripping to the floor with every eager push of his hard cock. “if you keep squeezing me like that, i ain’t going to last much longer—haah. . !” suguru groaned, throwing his head back and exposing his neck; his adam’s apple bobbed with every moan of your name, a deep crimson blush plastered on his cheeks.

suguru noticed your closed eyes and reached a hand under your chin, angling your head towards him, “look at me while i fuck you.” he grunted, thumb caressing your bottom lip, dragging it downwards before prodding the digit between your lips. your mouth circled around his digit, eagerly welcoming it by swirling your tongue around and sucking on it—all while holding his lustful gaze.

your body jolted at the sudden force of suguru’s thrusts, his hips desperately ploughing into you, causing a pleasurable burn at the flesh of your inner thighs. his free hand wandered down your stomach, stopping just before where you to met and rubbed tight circles on your clit. you moaned around his digit, earning a breathless chuckle from suguru, “yeah? you like it when i fuck you like this? all tied up and open just for me?” you let out an unintelligible sound, your mind too hazy from lust to even nod in agreement.

shocks of pleasure prickled your skin, your muscles becoming taut as you neared your impending orgasm. suguru noticed the change in your behaviour, the way your chest heaved up and down, a series of broken high pitched moans coming from you, and your eyes rolling to the back of your head—he took his thumb from your mouth and held your jaw, “make pretty sounds for me while you cum.” you cried out his name, voice full of heat and desperation that had suguru’s eyes almost rolling back in pleasure.

he encouraged you to make more sounds, shaky whispers leaving his lips. suguru knew he was close too from the familiar bubbling at the pit of his stomach but he wanted you to cum first, he wanted to see how pretty you’d look as you creamed his cock. “that’s it, baby. . ! moan just for me, and only me. .” suguru let out a heated gasp, the sensation of your clenching walls becoming too much for him.

you tugged at the rope woven around your body, squirming in place as you came—stars engulfing your vision, and suguru’s name hung in the thick air of the studio. he caressed your cheek, onyx eyes glued to your lust-driven face as he whispered dirty praises; suguru knew you probably couldn’t hear his voice from the blissful expression on your face but that was fine, you did so well for him.

“think you can take one more for me?” he grunted, a pained expression donned his face as you clenched around him—although, what he was feeling was far from pain. you let out a broken cry, scrambling to get away from suguru’s hips since the pleasure was becoming too much. hot tears rolled down your heated cheeks as you chanted his name, throat scratchy from all the moaning you did earlier.

“c’mon, one more f’me, my pretty—aah, fuck . . !” you leaned into suguru’s touch, the contact of his palm on your cheek burned with bliss. “‘m cumming! ngh! suguru. . !” “s-shit. let go for me.” you let out a silent moan, eyes rolling back and lips locked in an ‘o’ shape as pleasure hit you immensely—your body shuddered, head spinning. suguru angled his body so his face was positioned near yours, sealing your lips together in a messy kiss.

he groaned in between kisses, chasing your lips while your body jolted with every desperate thrust of his hips. suguru gave you a few more messy thrusts before completely pulling out and shooting his load on you. he eagerly fisted his cock, hand swiftly working on it to ride out his orgasm, and paint your body with every last bit of his cum; you moaned at the warm feeling of his cum coating your lower abdomen, and inner thighs—biting your bottom lip at his lewdness.

“you have no idea how much i’ve been wanting to do that.” suguru panted, a sheen of sweat coating his body, causing his muscles to glisten under the warm light.

“looks like i’m looking forward to our session next week, then.” you croaked. “oh, trust me, my darling, you may want to take a break next week. the rope marks aren’t the only thing that’s going to be sore for you.” he playfully chided, placing a chaste kiss on your sweaty forehead before setting the stool beneath your suspended body, preparing to untie you.

“yeah? why don’t you come massage it for me then.” “mmm, let’s get you cleaned up, hm? i’ll give you a real good massage. after all, i’m good with my hands.” suguru replies, peppering butterfly kisses all over your arms—the scarlet rope made a rather evident mark on your skin.

“good is such an understatement.” you smile up at him, tucking strands of his onyx fringe behind his pierced ear.

#zhonglism ༄#geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #smut #mdni

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makapatag · 5 months

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Tactical Combat, Violence Dice and Missing Your Attacks in Gubat Banwa

In this post I talk about game feel and decision points when it comes to the "To-Hit Roll" and the "Damage Roll" in relation to Gubat Banwa's design, the Violence Die.

Let's lay down some groundwork: this post assumes that the reader is familiar and has played with the D&D style of wargame combat common nowadays in TTRPGs, brought about no doubt by the market dominance of a game like D&D. It situates its arguments within that context, because much of new-school design makes these things mostly non-problems. (See: the paradigmatic shift required to play a Powered by the Apocalypse game, that completely changes how combat mechanics are interpreted).

With that done, let's specify even more: D&D 5e and 4e are the forerunners of this kind of game--the tactical grid game that prefers a battlemat. 5e's absolute dominance means that there's a 90% chance that you have played the kind of combat I'll be referring to in this post. The one where you roll a d20, add the relevant modifiers, and try to roll equal to or higher than a Target Number to actually hit. Then when you do hit, you roll dice to deal damage. This has been the way of things since OD&D, and has been a staple of many TTRPG combat systems. It's easy to grasp, and has behemoth cultural momentum. Each 1 on a d20 is a 5% chance, so you can essentially do a d100 with smaller increments and thus easier math (smaller numbers are easier to math than larger numbers, generally).

This is how LANCER works, this is how ICON works, this is how SHADOW OF THE DEMON LORD works, this is how TRESPASSER works, this is how WYRDWOOD WAND works, this is how VALIANT QUEST works, etc. etc. It's a tried and true formula, every D&D player has a d20, it's emblematic of the hobby.

There's been a lot more critical discussion lately on D&D's conventions, especially due to the OGL. Many past D&D only people are branching out of the bubble and into the rest of the TTRPG hobby. It's not a new phenomenon--it's happened before. Back in the 2010s, when Apocalypse World came out while D&D was in its 4th Edition, grappling with Pathfinder. Grappling with its stringent GSL License (funny how circular this all is).

Anyway, all of that is just to put in the groundwork. My problem with D&D Violence (particularly, of the 3e, 4e, and 5e version) is that it's a violence that arises from "default fantasy". Default Fantasy is what comes to mind when you say fantasy: dragons, kings, medieval castles, knights, goblins, trolls. It's that fantasy cultivated by people who's played D&D and thus informs D&D. There is much to be said about the majority of this being an American Samsaric Cycle, and it being tied to the greater commodification agenda of Capitalism, but we won't go into that right now. Anyway, D&D Violence is boring. It thinks of fights in HITS and MISSES and DAMAGE PER SECOND.

A Difference Of Paradigm and Philosophies

I believe this is because it stems from D&D still having one foot in the "grungy dungeon crawler" genre it wants to be and the "combat encounter balance MMO" it also wants to be. What ends up happening is that players play it like an immersive sim, finding ways to "cheese" encounters with spells, instead of interacting with the game as the fiction intended. This is exemplified in something like Baldur's Gate 3 for example: a lot of the strats that people love about it includes cheesing, shooting things before they have the chance to react, instead of doing an in-fiction brawl or fight to the death. It's a pragmatist way of approaching the game, and the mechanics of the game kind of reinforce it. People enjoy that approach, so that's good. I don't. Wuxia and Asian Martial Dramas aren't like that, for the most part.

It must be said that this is my paradigm: that the rules and mechanics of the game is what makes the fiction (that shared collective imagination that binds us, penetrates us) arise. A fiction that arises from a set of mechanics is dependent on those mechanics. There is no fiction that arises independently. This is why I commonly say that the mechanics are the narrative. Even if you try to play a game that completely ignores the rules--as is the case in many OSR games where rules elide--your fiction is still arising from shared cultural tropes, shared ideas, shared interests and consumed media.

So for Gubat Banwa, the philosophy was this: when you spend a resource, something happens. This changes the entire battle state--thus changing the mechanics, thus changing the fiction. In a tactical game, very often, the mechanics are the fiction, barring the moments that you or your Umalagad (or both of you!) have honed creativity enough to take advantage of the fiction without mechanical crutches (ie., trying to justify that cold soup on the table can douse the flames on your Kadungganan if he runs across the table).

The other philosophy was this: we're designing fights that feel like kinetic high flying exchanges between fabled heroes and dirty fighters. In these genres, in these fictions, there was no "he attacked thrice, and one of these attacks missed". Every attack was a move forward.

So Gubat Banwa removed itself from the To-Hit/Damage roll dichotomy. It sought to put itself outside of that paradigm, use game conventions and cultural rituals that exist outside of the current West-dominated space. For combat, I looked to Japanese RPGs for mechanical inspiration: in FINAL FANTASY TACTICS and TACTICS OGRE, missing was rare, and when you did miss it was because you didn't take advantage of your battlefield positioning or was using a kind of weapon that didn't work well against the target's armor. It existed as a fail state to encourage positioning and movement. In wuxia and silat films, fighters are constantly running across the environment and battlefield, trying to find good positioning so that they're not overwhelmed or so that they could have a hand up against the target.

The Violence Die: the Visceral Attacking Roll

Gubat Banwa has THE VIOLENCE DIE: this is the initial die or dice that you roll as part of a specific offensive technique.

In the above example, the Inflict Violence that belongs to the HEAVENSPEAR Discipline, the d8 is the Violence Die. When you roll this die, it can be modified by effects that affect the Violence Die specifically. This becomes an accuracy effect: the more accurate your attack, the more damage you deal against your target's Posture. Mas asintado, mas mapinsala.

You compare your Violence Die roll to your target's EVADE [EVD]. If you rolled equal to or lower than the target's EVD, they avoid that attack completely. There: we keep the tacticality of having to make sure your attack doesn't miss, but also EVD values are very low: often they're just 1, or 2. 4 is very often the highest it can go, and that's with significant investment.

If you rolled higher than that? Then you ignore EVD completely. If you rolled a 3 and the target's EVD was 2, then you deal 3 DMG + relevant modifiers to the DMG. When I wrote this, I had no conception of "removing the To-Hit Roll" or "Just rolling Damage Dice". To me this was the ATTACK, and all attacks wore down your target's capacity to defend themselves until they're completely open to a significant wound. In most fights, a single wound is more than enough to spell certain doom and put you out of the fight, which is the most important distinction here.

In the Thundering Spear example, that targets PARRY [PAR], representing it being blocked by physical means of acuity and quickness. Any damage brought about by the attack is directly reduced by the target's PAR. A means for the target to stay in the fight, actively defending.

But if the attack isn't outright EVADED, then they still suffer its effects. So the target of a Thundering Spear might have reduced the damage of an attack to just 1 (1 is minimum damage), they would still be thrown up to 3 tiles away. It matches that sort of, anime combat thing: they strike Goku, but Goku is still flung back. The game keeps going, the fight keeps going.

On Mechanical Weight

When you miss, the mechanical complexity immediately stops--if you miss, you don't do anything else. Move on. To the next Beat, the next Riff, the next Resound, think about where you could go to better your chances next time.

Otherwise, the attack's other parts are a lot more mechanically involved. If you don't miss: roll add your Attacking Prowess, add extra dice from buffs, roll an extra amount of dice representing battlefield positioning or perhaps other attacks you make, apply the effects of your attack, the statuses connected to your attack. It keeps going, and missing is rare, especially once you've learned the systematic intricacies of Gubat Banwa's THUNDERING TACTICS BATTLE SYSTEM.

So there was a lot of setup in the beginning of this post just to sort of contextualize what I was trying to say here. Gubat Banwa inherently arises from those traditions--as a 4e fan, I would be remiss to ignore that. However, the conclusion I wanted to come up to here is the fact that Gubat Banwa tries to step outside of the many conventions of that design due to that design inherently servicing the deliverance of a specific kind of combat fiction, one that isn't 100% conducive to the constantly exchanging attacks that Gubat Banwa tries to make arise in the imagination.

#gubat banwa #ttrpg #filipino #fantasy #gamedev #writing #rpg #dnd #southeast asia #d&d #d&d 5e #d&d 4e #i will say #that part of the decision away from a d20 (because gb alpha used one)#is sheer hater energy on my part #like i just didn't want to #because its used by all these other games by white people and especially because its used by dnd #there is like #4 instances where you use d20s in this game

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amica-aenigmata-naboo · 3 months

Text

Bind

Astarion x Nonbinary! Reader - drabble - 1.3K WC

Masterlist

Warnings: discussion of gender, body dysmorphia, improper binding, Astarion being the big softie we all know he is, hesitation, fear, kissing

---------------------------

Astarion kissed you fervently, as if you were his only lifeline to this reality. You kissed him back, but the panic creeping over your skin was becoming difficult to ignore. It felt like ice clawing its way up until you were devoured. He moved to start kissing your neck.

You let out a shaky breath, “Stop…” you mumbled.

Astarion continued, so lost in you all he could hear was your erratic heart beat.

Tears feel from your eyes, the ice settling in you, making you freeze. “Stop…” you choked out.

Astarion kissed down your chest but looked up at you when he felt you tense. His eyes dulled quickly, becoming soft and round instead of sharp and lustful. He backed up, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

“I said stop…” you sniffled as you sat up and scooted away from him, wrapping your arms around your legs that were pulled up to your chest.

“Little love, are you alright? Did I hurt you? Scare you?” his eyes flicked back and forth between yours, searching for any answer.

“I… I’m fine…” you said, wiping the tears away just to have them be replaced by new ones.

“Obviously not, what is it my sweet?” he said, sliding his shirt back on.

“I… don’t know how to tell you… I’ve never really talked about it before…” you said, looking at the floor.

Astarion stayed quiet, waiting for you to speak.

“I… don’t always feel like…. Myself.” you shook your head, no that wasn’t getting your point across. “I mean I don’t always feel like a woman… or a man… I’m something else, something I can’t define…” you wrapped your arms around yourself even tighter. Your eyes met his after a moment.

His face was so soft, so sweet and understanding. “Alright.” he smiled softly at you.

Your eyes widened, “What? That’s it?” you said in shock.

Astarion chuckled, “That’s it. I love you, I don’t care what you identify with as long as you are happy.”

You loosened your grip, fingers finding the buttons of your shirt. You undid them one by one before Astarion softly held your wrist, “That’s not necessary, pet. We don’t have to do anything.”

You kissed his palm before continuing to unbutton your shirt. When you pulled it apart, Astarion saw gauze and immediately thought you were hurt. You smiled at him to reassure him.

“I bind my chest… it makes me feel… more like me.” you nodded, content with your explanation.

Astarion gently moved your shirt a bit, he noticed the irritation from the bandages on your ribs. Red and angry. “Can you breathe?” he asked cautiously.

You sighed, wincing slightly as the bandages did hurt. They were crushing you. Having them on all day while adventuring was leaving you with cuts and burns but you would rather endure than not feel like yourself. “Yes… it's not always comfortable but… I can’t compromise.”

“Do you want to take them off?” he asked, the burning skin of your ribs keeping his eyes entranced.

You sucked in a sharp breath, wincing once more. You had never shown anyone your chest. You thought about it for a moment. You trusted Astarion and you could tell he saw your pain and just wanted you to relax. You nodded slightly, undoing the two safety pins on the side of your chest. You slowly unraveled the bandages, feeling relief. You held the gauze to your chest, looking up at Astarion.

His eyes were already on your face, “Do you want me to turn around? I won’t look if you don’t want me to.” he said, already shifting himself around.

You stopped him, pulling him so his knees were against yours. You held his hand to your still covered chest. You didn’t know why this all felt so scary. Astarion and you hand’t gotten off on the best foot but that might as well have been eons ago. Now you held a mutual love and respect for one another. So why were you afraid? You dropped the last of the gauze, your chest fully exposed to him. You watched his reaction, waited for him to do anything.

He reached out, waiting for your ok to touch you. You nodded at him. He gently thumbed over the reddened skin, pulling back when you let out a hiss. Something clicked in his brain, you could see it on his face. He scurried over to his desk, rummaging through the various bottles he had atop it.

He walked back over to you before sitting down with a proud smile on his face.

“Whatcha got there?” you asked with a soft smile. It felt good to be uncovered, to be vulnerable with him.

“A personal concoction. Balsam ointment, potion of healing, and rosemary.” he said as he unscrewed the lid. He took a generous dollop, moving towards you. He waited for your approval, you nodded.

You had to restrain yourself from moaning out, the cream felt heavenly. Your chest felt warm but in a delightful way, unlike the usual painful heat from the friction of the bandages.

“Balsam for the burns. Potion of healing for the cuts. Rosemary for the inflammation.” he said as his fingers worked deftly.

You shrugged your shirt off completely, letting it pool behind you on the floor. His fingers stopped working for a moment. Your eyes instantly searched for his, unsure what he could be feeling at this moment.

“So beautiful…” he whispered before his fingers continued their delicate work.

He was so soft for you, and only you. You caressed his cheek, pulling him softly by his chin before placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” you whispered to him.

“For what my darling?” he said, kissing your cheeks before applying just a bit more cream to the most irritated areas.

“For everything. For accepting me. I know it might be strange and difficult to understand…” you said before he cut you off.

“You are quite strange, but not for this.” he teased, “This is who you are.” he said nonchalantly.

You hugged him swiftly, careful to not let your ointment covered chest make a mess on his shirt. He hugged you back before leaning back to kiss your cheek. “You need to rest.” he said as he pulled out a blanket he kept in his tent specifically for your comfort.

You reached for your shirt. “You don’t have to put that back on if it would be more comfortable for you.” he smiled at you.

You breathed a small sigh of relief. You slept like this in your own tent, needing time for your chest to be unrestricted. “Thank you.” you got comfortable on his bed roll. He draped the blanket over you, watching you fall asleep quickly.

He got to work quickly. Gathering bits of fabric from here and there. Finding the right thread. Embroidering his initial in the corner. He pulled back after working for gods know how long, it was like he was in a trance. He looked at his creation. A binder but a properly fitted and carefully made one. Much better than wrapping yourself up every day. This should keep your chest flat without cutting or burning you. Let you breathe. Astarion worked through the night, making multiple binders for you. Before he knew it, he heard your groggy voice.

“Star?” you asked, rubbing your eyes so they could focus on him. “What’s going on?”

Astarion quickly bit the thread off before holding up his fourth creation of the night. “I made these for you. They should do exactly what the bandages did, just safer.”

You sat up, suddenly very awake. You took the item from him, amazed at his thoughtfulness and care. You held it up to your bare chest. Tears stung your eyes in the happiest way. You pounced on him, kissing over his face incessantly. You heard him giggle and it filled you with love, this man was yours until the end and gods were you overjoyed by that simple fact.

Astarion wrapped his arms around you, holding you close before he rested his forehead against yours. “Love you my dearest little love.”

You smiled, kissing him softly.

-------------------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello all! Hope this is a good one! I very recently came out as nonbinary so this was a bit inspired by that. I think I wrote it to convince myself it's ok to buy a binder. IDK sorry that was a bit personal lol. As always thanks for the likes, comments, reblogs, and requests! XOXOXOXOXO!!!!!

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wonyopout · 4 months

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(cw: noncon->dubcon, g!p wonyoung, overstim, manipulation but only a little 😋)

i wrote her sorta bratty in this but idc!! she’s still my perfect well behaved princess.. noncon notwithstanding…

wony who’s so pussy whipped/pussy drunk that she just wants your cunt all the time whether you want it or not! big into somno and will fuck you or eat you out while you’re sleeping soundly. a lot of the time it’s funny just how badly she wants you and you’re eager to indulge her most of the time, but sometimes you’re busy or you wanna do something else, and wonyoung just isn’t having it.. the second you flat out say no or even hesitate to say yes she’s grabbing you and ripping your pants and panties down, one hand groping your tit while the other rubs harshly at your clit, forcing you on her cock. both you and wonyoung groaning at the tight fit. she’s grabbing at your hips as you try to push away from her. pulls you flush against her to nip and suck at your neck 😵‍💫 she pushes her mouth right up against your ear as she says,

“y/n unnie, this pussy’s mine ok?? I can fuck you when I want to and you acting like I can’t is starting to piss me off”

your streak of spoiling her is really biting you in the ass now. every time she gets hard she’ll tell you to help her, being sure to pout and put on a show about how much it hurts and the only thing that’ll make her feel better is using your cunt like a fleshlight.. you gotta hand it to her though, she’s a pretty good actress, gets teary eyed when she’s really into the bit. a lot of the time though, she doesn’t even bother to manipulate you into saying yes. she realized she can just bend you over whenever and wherever she wants and you’ll hardly put up a fight! she’s definitely got you trained, shoves her dick in you and you meekly tell her “no” or that you “don’t want it” but you’re pushing back to meet her thrusts and clenching down on her?? grabs you by the throat to hold you in place while she’s abusing your cunt, squeezing ever so slightly on the sides of your neck making you cream around her cock as you get light headed 🥴 also loves putting you in a mating press and going to town, your tummy bulging slightly from the angle and how big she is.. she cums so much too, breeds you full just from cumming in you once.

it’s not just having you on her dick that makes her crazy either, she’s the exact same when it comes to eating you out. overstimulates you so much because she just can’t tear her head away from between your thighs and she won’t let you try to either! binds your wrists or holds your hips down when you get too restless, tears streaming down your face when you beg her to stop or at the very least give you a break!! wonys such a meanie because when she does pull away, mouth and chin all covered in slick, all she says is, “stop crying so loud it’s annoying! we’re not done till i say so, so be a good unnie and take it..” with sweet little smile before she shoves her face back in your cunt, slurping away at you, moaning at how good you taste. also shes definitely uses a spreader bar on you to make sure you can’t close your legs when she eats you out 🥴🥴 just when you think she’s done with you she’ll start talking about how yummy your cunt was and how it got her so hard. “i know i said i was almost done but i really really need you. you don’t need to do anything kay?? just lie there and let me use you..” 😵‍💫

so what if you’re turning into wonys free use toy?? at least you get mind blowing orgasms out of it.. yea sometimes she makes you come so much you pass out and even then she doesn’t let up. i’ve mentioned wonys crazy amount of stamina before, so she can go round after round not giving you a break. she’s so lost in her head when she’s fucking you, just so pussy hungry that she doesn’t care how spent you are… at the end of the day she’s still your sweet girl though!! she basically waits on you hand and foot on the days she knows she’s been extra mean :(( runs you a hot bath and washes your hair for you 🥺 doesn’t let you lift a finger as she washes and changes your sheets. offers to give you a massage and the whole time she’s doing it she’s leaning down to kiss your neck or shoulders or any exposed skin really (she’s obsessed with you). she can be so soft with you when she wants to be..

#ive imagines #ive x reader #ive smut #girl group smut #girl group x reader #jang wonyoung x reader #jang wonyoung smut #g!p wonyoung #wonyoung smut #wonyopout #had to add wony being soft at the end 😔#this is kinda short bc i cut out like half of it that was piss kink wony 🧍#will b expanding on that tho so stay tuned heheh

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elizabethwritesmen · 3 months

Text

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 1 : July 2, 2022

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: you obviously weren’t expecting someone to kidnap you after your shift at the bar that night. even moreso, you weren’t expecting them to want to kill you. but the thing you weren’t expecting the most was the masked man who saved you.

warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, kidnapping, violence, talk of unaliving the reader, dark themes throughout this whole series, leg injury, talk of being tied up and drugged, i think that’s everything but let me know if i missed something!

a/n: this chapter is basically the prologue, so it’s super short but gives necessary background info (:

series masterlist

July 2, 2022

I don’t remember much. In fact, I don’t remember anything clearly after being taken.

What had happened was, I was walking to my car after my shift at the bar ended. I happened to be parked on the side, in the alley. There, three men were waiting for me. Waiting to take me.

I put up a fight, really and truly, I did. I think I even gave them a run for their money considering they were all quite large compared to me. I punched, and scratched, and bit what I could. But they overpowered me, and one of them hit me on the head with something. Who knows what? Doesn’t matter.

Since then, I’d been fading in and out of consciousness. The first time was on the ride there. I’d been shoved in the back of a van with several boxes, wedged in between them like some kind of cargo. The driver hit a turn way too sharp and slung one of them onto its side, the contents emptying onto me. One of the things in there was a small safe with sharp edges. It slammed into my ankle, breaking the skin and cutting deep. I instantly woke up, screaming, red hot pain searing through my entire leg, and they pulled over somewhere. One of them crawled into the back with me, and I tried to resist him but I was tied up with my arms behind my back. I even kicked at him, but there was only so much I could do with one good foot.

“Shut the fuck up!” he growled, taking a syringe out of his pocket and forcefully twisting me so he could shove it into my arm.

The next time, I was in a warehouse. Everything was dark and blurry, shapes fading together. I felt… wrong. Woozy, like I’d been drinking. Then I momentarily remembered the syringe and realized that thought wasn’t too far off. There was probably something in my system to keep me docile. That only lasted for a second before I was out again. Then again I just barely faded into a conversation two men I’d not yet seen were having in front of me.

“We’ve got to wait until the 4th or it won’t work,” one raised his voice at the other, tensions high.

“I say we kill the bitch now. She’ll be worth just as much dead as she will be alive.”

“You don’t know that!”

Everything went black again. I couldn’t even manage to panic about the fact that I was probably going to die. What day did I get snatched? I thought it was the 30th of June. How long had I been there?

I don’t remember waking up again at all, until a loud sound rocked the building. My eyes cracked open, vision still shaky, to see men rushing in. A fight ensued between them and my many captors. I watched as intently as I could manage as they took each one of them down, police arresting them all.

A man rushed my way. I couldn’t see him clearly until he was right in front of me, tall and large and… masked.

Strange.

I tried to scoot away from him, scared he was going to hurt me in my drugged up state, and he spoke softly as not to frighten me further.

“It’s okay, I’m here to take you somewhere safe.” I stayed wary, eyes focusing in on him. I had to focus in on him. If I didn’t, he just looked like a blob. “They’ve got you fucked up good,” he commented, then asked, “Will you let me cut off these ropes?”

I nodded and he leaned down, slicing through the binds on my ankles, careful of the wound that was looking worse for wear from being ignored. “Can you stand?” He asked, and when I didn’t respond, he tutted. “Let’s try.” He picked me up from under my arms, placing me on my feet.

Fuck if that wasn’t the worst pain I’d ever felt. I cried out as pressure was placed, falling into him in the least graceful way possible. His arms secured themselves around me, placing me gently back on the ground.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to stand,” he hummed, kneeling behind me to cut the ropes off of my hands. I relaxed my entire body, relieved to have mobility back. “Put this on,” he commanded, slipping his jacket off and handing it to me. I furrowed my brows, looking down to see my clothes were in tatters, ripped to shreds just about. The low cut T shirt with my work’s logo on it was completely open and the matching skirt was half off. My bra and panties were on full display, light hitting the lace perfectly. I gasped, grabbing the warm fabric from him and trying to put it on. I was too weak, though, so he had to do it for me. He zipped it up, and once he was satisfied with my modesty, he hauled me into his arms, carrying me out of the building. I started to slip out of consciousness again, my mind still foggy from whatever was in my veins. The last thing I remembered seeing was him, walking away.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader smut #simon riley x reader smut #simon riley #ghost x reader series

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thecuriousquest · 10 months

Note

AIZAWA HAVING A YOUNGER SISTER FIC PLS ❤️❤️

Hell on Earth

Platonic!Yandere Aizawa x Little Sister Reader

Tag List: @issamomma

Warnings: Yandere themes, intimidation, controlling behavior, murder

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

“Hand me your phone,” Aizawa demands with his palm out.

“What? Why?” Your brows furrow in anger and shock from his sudden order.

Shouta does this all the time to you, and it’s completely annoying. He’s always sticking his nose in your business. This week, your parents asked him to watch you while they’re out of town since you need to go to school. That means you have to live under the strict eye of one Shouta Aizawa for an entire week.

“Because you’ve been on it all day, and I want to make sure you’re not doing anything inappropriate. If you don’t want to lose it entirely, you’ll hand it over.”

Brushing your fingers through your locks, you declare, “You’re not my freaking dad, Shouta. Buzz off.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. Chuckling slightly, he removes his capture weapon from around his neck and binds you with it. He pulls you towards him, and you sail through the air until you come face to face with your pissed off older brother. Gulping, you begin to rethink your attitude as his raven hair floats about while his eyes shine like scarlet stars.

“Excuse me? Would you like to repeat that, young lady?”

You shake your head as your lower lip pokes out.

“Listen closely because I’m only going to say this once. Me not being your father is irrelevant. You’re living under my roof for a week. It would be in your best interest to follow my rules and obey when I tell you to do something. If you’re trying to hide something from me, I have the means to find out what it is. Are you going to hand over your phone?”

The only response you can manage is a nod. With cheeks heated up from his intimidation tactic, he lets you down as he deactivates his quirk. Once the capture weapon is placed back around his neck, he sticks his hand out for your phone once more.

Reluctantly, you give it to him. He spends a few minutes scrolling through your phone before he glares at you.

“Who’s Makoto, and why is there a heart beside his name?”

Your face feels even hotter than before. “Oh, um…he’s my boyfriend.”

“You have a boyfriend? You’re too young to be dating. Does Mom and Dad know about this?”

You wrap your arms around yourself and look away from Aizawa. “Not really.”

“That’s what I thought. You’re not allowed to be dating at this age. You-”

“Oh, screw you, Shouta! I can date whoever the hell I want. I’m sixteen years old!”

“Don’t be so disrespectful. You’re just a little kid. You have no idea how awful the boys your age can be. As your big brother, it’s my job to look out for you. If I even so much as hear that you’re talking to him, you’ll be punished.” He pockets your phone and gives you a look of disappointment. Tiredly, he tells you to go to your room.

You stomp to the guest room of his apartment and slam the door shut. Sitting down on the bed, you scream into your pillow and cry.

———

Breakfast is stressful. You thought staying here was going to be fun, but so far, you’ve been scolded, had your phone taken away, and banished to the guest bedroom for the night.

“Shouta, when can I have my phone back?” You ask bravely with a piece of toast in your hand.

“I’m hanging onto it until Mom and Dad get back. I’ll give it to them, and they can decide when to give it back to you.”

A whine almost escapes your mouth. You never whine, but you can’t help the foot stomp that follows what he just told you. “It’s my phone though!”

Sipping his coffee, he shakes his head. “No, our parents pay for your phone. They bought it for you, and they pay the monthly bill. It’s not your phone, and you’ve shown me that you’re not mature enough to handle the responsibility of having a phone.”

“But my friends are texting me!”

“You can talk to them at school like a normal person and explain why you had your phone taken from you.”

Crossing your arms with a sudden burst of defiance, you blurt out, “Yeah, I’ll just tell them that my brother is being an unreasonable asshole and lives to make my life hell on earth.”

Setting his mug down none too gently, he glares at you. “Congratulations. You just got yourself grounded for a week as well. Come home right after school.”

Standing up from the table, you grab your book bag and storm out of the room. “I hate you, Shouta!” You slam the apartment door behind you and leave for school.

———

It hurts your heart entirely when you see someone hit Makoto with their car and drive off. You run over to him and kneel beside him on the ground. Your fingers try to find his pulse, but there’s nothing beating against your fingertips.

“Help him!” You scream at the people staring.

They’re using their phones to record the event, but nobody is making a call.

“Someone, help! Please, someone!” You hug Makoto’s body close to your chest and weep into his blood soaked hair.

You would do it yourself, but you don’t have your phone right now.

There are sirens in the distance, but you don’t really hear them. You don’t register them until someone is pulling Makoto’s body from you. You touch his hand for the last time as you watch EMTs place him on a stretcher.

There are policemen asking you questions, but you can barely hear them. Your attention is fixed on one thing and one thing only: your boyfriend’s body being put in the back of a vehicle.

———

Shouta finds you in a seat at the hospital. You’re crying your eyes out as Makoto has just been reported dead. They couldn’t do anything to save him.

He walks over to you and places a hand on your arm. “Bug, what happened? What’s going on?”

“M-Mak-Makoto! He’s dead!” You instantly fall apart, breaking down in sobs as you lean against him for solace.

Your brother wraps his arms around you in return. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He was too young. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Someone just hit him and kept going! How could they do something like that?”

“People out there will do really horrible things sometimes. I’m going to keep you safe, though. I promise.”

He’s happy that your face is glued to his chest because, right now, he doesn’t want you to see the smile curling on his lips. It’s a smile that he can’t help. So what if he had to wipe the earth of Makoto? Shouta is going to sleep well tonight knowing that the temptation of your former boyfriend is no longer an issue. He’s just so elated to have his baby sister back to himself.

#my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #triggering content #triggering themes #shouta aizawa #mha shouta #bnha aizawa #aizawa sensei #yandere brother #yandere shouta aizawa #yandere aizawa #yandere aizawa headcanons #platonic yandere aizawa #yandere eraserhead

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crystalwrizz · 1 year

Text

I didn’t know you were this pathetic, dove. (Katniss Everdeen drabble)

Warnings: Very light degradation, slight bondage

Content: Thigh grinding, use of a (low setting) vibrator, teasing, orgasm denial, g/n reader, use of the word “hole” but it’s not specified which one she’s talking about. This takes place in the capitol while they’re on tour(we’re going to pretend you won too)

Prompt: Katniss ties your hands together to see how desperate you really are.

Titles/nicknames used: dove(reader), ma’am(Katniss)

Word count: 411

✨❄️✨

You whimper as you shift your wrists in the uncomfortable binding. You push up harder against the vibrator, your senses becoming clouded and your face becoming warmer.

Katniss couldn’t help but chuckle, gently grabbing you by the chin. “Look at those doe eyes,” she started, cupping your cheek and rubbing her thumb along it, “you’re so needy, dove.”

You nod. The way she was right now was unfair. Fully clothed, not even a bit flustered, and getting the privilege of sitting on a bed. You, on the other hand, were naked, hot and embarrassed, and writhing on the floor with your hands tied behind your back.

“Please, Kat,” you mumbled mindlessly, “please, I want to cum… it’s too much..!” You inched closer to her, rubbing your cheek on her clothed leg. She pushed you back, clutching your shoulder.

“Do I need to remind you how to be patient?” she said with an ominous tone. You shook your head. She lifted her leg, and looked at you expectedly. “I want to see every part of you. May I?”

You nodded, “Yes ma’am.” With that, she gently moved your head from side to side with her boot, looking at the countless hickeys and bite marks she left on your neck. She chuckled softly, putting her foot back on the floor.

She looked deeper into your eyes, starting to speak, “if you’re so desperate, get up here on my leg. I’ll take the vibrator off of you.” She did as she said, and laid it down on the bed. She pulled down her black pants a little bit, and looked down at you. “Come on, dove. Push yourself, get up on it.”

You nod, and struggle to your feet. Instead of waiting for you to get closer, she pulled you right down onto her thigh. Despite her telling you to be patient earlier, she wasn’t very patient in this situation either.

You gulped, and reverted your eyes to her hands that held onto your waist. She helped you grind against her, and you whined quietly and shut your eyes. “Kat, can I cum? Please, I’ll do anything…” you said.

She laughed. “Anything?” she began, “I didn’t know you were this pathetic, dove.” Her middle finger met your hole. You shook in her touch, waiting for her to thrust it in. Instead, she teased the opening for a bit and then pulled away.

“Too bad, you aren’t allowed to until we’re back in district twelve.”

A/N: Sorry if this isn’t good, this is my first time writing smut/a drabble

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starlitmark · 3 months

Text

Summary: Xiaojun really wants to watch you get fucked by your best friend. Pairing: Xiaojun x fem!reader x Hendery Tropes: established relationship au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: light bondage with a belt, cuckholding, brief manhandling, fingering, dirty talk, protected sex, hair pulling, untouched male orgasm Word Count: 1,597 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ Fxxk You by KARD

“You’re sure you want this, Junnie?” You ask for the millionth time.

Xiaojun nods, “I want this. I know you and Hendery both do, too.”

You nod and kiss your husband deeply, “I love you.”

“I love you too, beautiful.” He smiles into the kiss.

When you mentioned finding your husband’s best friend hot offhandedly, you wanted nothing more than to let the ground swallow you. Then Xiaojun said he also found his friend attractive. That was a curve ball you hadn’t expected. What you couldn’t have anticipated was the suggestion that he came up with a moment later. Not only did your husband say he also found his friend hot, he also said he’d love to see his friend fuck you stupid. Your sex life with Xiaojun is more than enough. Still, the idea of being fucked by Hendery was appealing.

You and Xiaojun had a long talk about the logistics of it all before formally asking your friend to join you in the bedroom. When Xiaojun asked his best friend if he found you attractive, the other man looked like a deer caught in headlights. A light laugh escaping your lips seemed to ease the atmosphere. Hendery carefully nodded and said he found both of you attractive. Not only that, he also admitted that you were any bisexual person’s wet dream together.

Presently, you’re wrapped up in a silk robe that barely stops at your mid-thigh. Xiaojun is more dressed than you, not dressed up, but more covered. When a knock sounds on your front door, you watch how a sparkle shines in Xiaojun’s eyes. He’s just as excited to be nothing but a voyeur to you and his best friend as you are to fuck him. You remove yourself from your husband’s arms and waltz to the door. Pulling it open, you see Hendery wearing a comfy hoodie and sweatpants on the other side. The outfit mirrors that of your husband’s.

“Look at you, wrapped up like a pretty present.” Hendery muses.

You look away, slightly flustered by his comment, “Well, I have to look pretty before you fuck me.”

“And we’re all still game for this?”

The question is directed at your husband. You look back at Xiaojun and see a slight smirk dance across his face. Hendery, knowing his best friend, nods and wastes no time pulling you into a heated kiss. You make a small, surprised noise but quickly kiss him back. Hendery wraps his arms tightly around your waist. He walks forward, making you stumble backward a bit. Your eyes are closed. You don’t know where your husband is in the room, but you’re likely stumbling into the bedroom based on your orientation. The sound of a doorknob turning and the feeling of the back of your legs against your duvet only confirms your theory. You fall back on the mattress, and Hendery’s frame hovers over you as you continue to kiss.

For the first time since Hendery arrived, you get to come up for a proper breath. You watch as Hendery pushes himself off of you and stalks over to where your husband shifts in his spot. His sweatpants do nothing to hide his boner.

“Can you sit nice and watch me fuck your wife, or do I need to tie you up?”

You hear Xiaojun’s breath falter.

“I think I’ll need to be tied up.”

“Need to or want to?” The other man chuckles, pushing a finger against the underside of his jaw.

“Want to.” You hear your husband breathe out.

Hendery hums and grabs one of Xiaojun’s belts that was lying out. He guides your husband to strip all of his clothing off his body and kneel on the floor at the foot of your bed. Hendery carefully and safely binds Xiaojun’s wrists together in front of him. After ensuring that the other man isn’t in pain or too tightly bound, your friend returns to you. He grabs you by your waist and manhandles you onto your elbows and knees, your face mere inches from Xiaojun. It takes everything in you not to lean forward and capture your husband’s lips in another kiss.

“Where do you keep the condoms?”

“Dresser, top drawer.” You state simply.

Your eyes stay trained on Xiaojun’s even as you hear Hendery rooting through the drawer to find condoms. You feel the bed dip behind you, followed by the feeling of Hendery’s fingers running through your soaked folds. You still have your robe around you, but the fact that he can’t even be bothered to remove the one clothing item you have on makes you feel even more used in the best way possible.

Hendery pushes two fingers into you. Your eyebrows furrow together as you let out a moan. You still keep your eyes on Xiaojun as your friend fingers you. Hendery fucks his fingers into you for a bit, making you leak more arousal with each motion. You knew the entire encounter would be hot. Nothing could’ve prepared you for this, though.

“Do you even fuck your wife properly, Junnie?” Hendery questions, “She’s nearly falling apart on just my fingers.”

Xiaojun doesn’t respond. You can’t find it in yourself, either. Dropping your head forward, you let out another string of moans. You push your hips back, chasing the feeling of his long fingers inside you. Just as you feel your orgasm start to build, Hendery pulls his fingers from inside you. The bed shifts behind you, and you can hear the faint sound of fabric falling onto the bed. The telltale sign of foil ripping follows not long after. You gasp, feeling the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

“Want me to fuck you?” He breathes out, rubbing his cock head around your entrance.

“‘Dery, please!” You whine, wiggling your hips against him.

Xiaojun lets out a small whimper, making Hendery smirk behind you.

“Your wife wants me to fuck her, ‘Jun.” He reiterates, “Your wife wants to get fucked by another man.”

“She wants it.” Xiaojun confirms, “Give her what she wants.”

Hendery pushes into you. A broken moan escapes your lips. Your head falls forward onto the bed fully. Hendery reaches forward and unties the bow from around your waist. He then lets his hand travel higher and grab a handful of your hair. He pulls your head back, giving Xiaojun the perfect view of your fucked out expression and your tits bouncing as Hendery thrusts into you.

Your eyes travel down Xiaojun’s body. His cock is painfully hard and leaking. Still, he only watches with lust-fogged eyes as your friend fucks you stupid. A part of you could get used to having Hendery fuck you on the regular, even if you’re married to Xiaojun. Somewhere inside, you feel that Xiaojun and Hendery wouldn’t quite mind that either.

“You’re so fucking tight around me.” Hendery growls, “Is Junnie even fucking you?”

“‘Dery!” You moan, “Fuck! I’m gonna–”

“Already?”

You do your best to nod with his hold on your hair, “Wanna cum!”

Hendery chuckles, releasing your hair, “Your poor husband looks so desperate in front of us.” He notes, “Why don’t you go on and kiss him?”

Xiaojun’s eyes sparkly at the notion of finally getting some sort of attention. You crane your neck forward, a moan escaping as Hendery pushes a punctuated thrust into you. Xiaojun leans up to meet your lips. The moment you feel his plush, soft lips against yours, your orgasm hits you. Your pussy convulses around Hendery’s cock. Xiaojun quickly and easily swallows your moans. While Xiaojun isn’t getting any physical stimulation on his cock, he moans back into the kiss. Hendery is spewing filthy words into the room as he continues to thrust into you at a brutal pace. Xiaojun lets out a particularly loud, broken moan. You pull your lips from him for a moment to see that he came completely untouched. His cum paints his belly and wrists. The leather of the belt has cum on it too. The sight of Xiaojun riding out an orgasm without being touched almost sends you into a second orgasm.

Just as you’re about to dive into another kiss with your husband, Hendery retakes a handful of your hair and drags your body up against his. He turns your head towards his and captures your lips in a kiss. Your robe is completely open, and now Xiaojun has a relatively close view of how Hendery’s cock thrusts into you. Overstimulation starts to nip at you in a slightly painful way. You whimper into the kiss with Hendery, lightly biting his lip. Then, you feel Hendery still inside you. A low groan comes from his lips as he fills the condom.

He releases your body, and you nearly collapse against your bed. Weakly, you reach forward and undo the belt around Xiaojun’s wrists. Hendery busies himself with knotting off and throwing away the condom before returning to help you out of your robe fully. You’re enthralled in a deep kiss with your husband as Hendery removes the silk from your body. You hardly notice the slight throbbing in your pussy as Xiaojun starts to climb up the bed and on top of you. He still has his cum on his lower belly as he presses his body to yours, but you couldn't care less about the sensation right now.

“You have another round in you, my love?” He mumbles against your lips, “I need to show our guest here that I know damn well how to take care of my wife in bed.”

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

#xiaojun smut #hendery smut #cultofdionysusnet #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #joongfryefff24 #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct x reader #wayv x reader #nct smut #wayv smut #xiaojun fanfic #xiaojun x reader #hendery fanfic #hendery x reader

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Do I Know You?

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Request: lil anon.

Natasha loved you, that much she knew, but the closer your binding nuptials came the more she felt a need to run. So, that’s exactly what she does, but when she returns a year later nothing was the same. You were made to forget her, and in turn your once blooming love that she’s desperate to reignite.

Warnings: Alluded to Violence/Brainwashing. Heartbreak. Feigned Amnesia. (Happy Ending)

Alluded to Smut | 18+ | Minors DNI

"Another one?" Natasha nodded with a wince, she could already feel a headache drawing on from the excess amount of liquor she's downed thus far, but she deemed it her underwhelming punishment for what she did to you today.

For breaking your heart, time and time again she chose the life of superhero over you, even when she didn't need to. It's not like you didn't understand the mission here or there, you too were an Avenger who understood that duty calls, a few missed dates caused little harm.

There's got to be a line drawn though, and you expected that she knew your wedding was one of those times, but she practically begged Fury to let her onto a mission, in front of your face like your feelings didn't matter; she refused to believe you when you said it was the last straw.

——

So, she very well placated you, lying with too much ease about turning it back down after all, and for a few short days it was back to bliss. Natasha held you so close, cherishing you because she knew she'd have to fight to get you back when she returned, but she needed time.

It all went swimmingly until you were standing alone at the altar, all your mutual friends were sat in shock at the sight of a gap where your blushing bride should've been, but wasn't.

So now she's drowning her sorrows in a bottle of whiskey in some foreign country because she likely ruined the one good thing she's ever had.

——

Natasha's foot tapped against the bottom of the Quinjet anxiously, it'd been a year since she left, every time she pleaded with Fury to stop extending the mission it's like he doubled it.

She had a plan: take the three months to fix herself while doing what she's best at, then come home and make it all right with you.

However plans never seem to work out in her favor, and she is drowning in self deprecating thoughts as she ponders if you've forgiven her.

Did you meet someone else? Are they taking up the right side of the bed in your shared room?

Natasha bit her lip at the painful thought.

Will she be able to undo the pain she caused? Can she convince you to forgive her just this additional time, and promise it'll be different?

She will beg down on her knees if she has to.

Will she be different? Or will she just pretend until she can't anymore, and fall back into running away whenever she began to feel like she couldn't possibly live without you.

She's never needed anyone before, it terrifies her to need you, but she can't fight it anymore.

No, that much she knew was over. Because in the year she was forced to be without you it became rather apparent that she was correct. Living without you was a miserable experience; not hearing your giggles in the middle of the night when you should both be sleeping, or to not have you tucked into her, safe and sound.

Natasha realized that everything she was running from was everything she ever wanted. Loving you wasn't a burdening thing like her past tried to convince her it was, she was not about to be tied down and have her will taken. No, she was just signing up for a life with you by her side, and she realizes now that she has to fix this because now she can't imagine her life any other way then with you as her wife.

As soon as the jet landed she was racing off to find you, and once she reached the kitchen her search was over. There you stood with a mug in hand talking to Wanda in your Stitch pajamas. Natasha moved on impulse, her body needed to feel yours, so she catapulted into you without a second thought on as to if she was allowed to.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, please forgive me," she sobbed into your shirt, and you froze upon feeling her tears seep through to your chest.

"I'm sorry, but do I know you?" Natasha froze, entire body tensing as you spoke, because the tone you used was one of innocence, and not one full of malice or contempt. You were asking her an honest question, and it terrified her.

"I'm your fiancée?"

"Were," Wanda softly corrected with a glare fixated upon the absolute mess of a woman.

"I'm so confused..." you whispered, and the woman pulled away from your hold, the one you graciously allowed her to remain in with a deep frown, and eyes glistening with tears.

"You don't remember me?" Natasha shakily asked, her arms now wrapping around her body as she took tentative steps backwards.

"I know who you are," you admitted, "Just not how you're supposed to be important to me."

Natasha nodded, then before you could break her heart any further she was taking off to her old room so that she could be sick.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"I thought all your memories came back?"

"They did," you replied with a saddened smile, "But I don't know if I want to remember her."

—

After crying herself into a restless nap Natasha woke up with a start, hand flying out to grasp you to pull you close but she was reminded for the umpteenth time that you weren't there.

Nothing made sense before without you, but after seeing you it makes even less sense, and in order to get answers Natasha jumped up and ran to Fury for them, and as she drove closer to Shields headquarters she fears her continued mission extensions were intermixed with why.

"Agent Romanoff, welcome home," the stoic man greets without even looking up, he didn't need to with the way she slammed his door into the wall without a shred of remorse.

"What happened to Y/N?"

"And here I thought you were here with completed mission reports, and detailed ones at that since I heard you sustained an injury."

"Stop giving me the fucking run around Nick."

"You broke her heart, and that trickled into a long winded year of saving the poor girl."

"From what?"

"Hydra."

Natasha's knees gave out, causing her body to fall into the mans couch with a tightness in her chest. "Nick, what are you saying? I-I don't understand, what happened? If she was in danger why didn't anyone tell me? Is this why my fucking mission was pointlessly extended?"

"I haven't the time to offer you explanations, I'm needed elsewhere, but to make a long story short—yes, we didn't need you in the way in a fit of remorseful hysteria as we found her," the man revealed as he dropped a huge file on the table then looked her straight in the eye, "Not to mention she told everyone before she was ever taken captive that if you were to ask about her no one was ever allowed to indulge you."

Fury left as soon as the words left him, and the redhead shakily reached for the thick files. Knots formed in the pit of her stomach the more she read, the papers were thorough, not a single bit of information was spared. Starting with your failed nuptials that led to you going on the honeymoon alone and being kidnapped.

Natasha left you in a vulnerable headspace, costing you six months of your life, she basically led Hydra right to you, and she felt sick to her stomach at the notion. Love isn't mean to cause pain, and yet that's all she's done to you; therefore your lost memories of her love was her burden to carry going forward.

——

It'd been a week since Natasha had been back, nobody would even spare her a glance, so she hid out on the unused floor of the compound. Until one morning when she was informed by Friday that the team had left the compound. Something about an impromptu mission that she was to sit out of due to her recent injury.

The same injury you heard about through the grapevine, and you honestly felt responsible. Had they let her come home on time she would have avoided her last forced sparring session. Then her torn calf wouldn't be on your conscience, and you wouldn't be watching the poor woman struggle to make her sandwich.

"Need some help?"

Natasha jumped, making the pain in her leg worse as it shot through her body and sent her tumbling backwards, but fortunately you were there to catch her, "Falling for me are we?"

Mentally you slapped yourself for saying that, her lip wobbled ever so slightly, most people would've missed it, but you never could. No matter what happened, you'd always be in tune with the woman who still held your heart captive after all this time and the heartbreak.

"I'm okay, thanks though," she politely declined, then with as much strength as she could muster she stood upright again, and shifted to face the counter to hide her tears.

"Natasha, I know what happened, Wanda told me," you told a partial truth, it was the witch that restored your memories months ago, but you wouldn't be letting Natasha know yet, if you were ever going to trust her again, she needed to prove to you she was really sorry.

"Oh," she whispered, the knife clattering on the counter drowning her voice out, "I'm sorry."

The tone of her voice wasn't something you'd grown used to, even after three years together she had yet to ever be this vulnerable with you.

"Hey, it's okay Nat, I'm sure you had a reason."

Natasha stilled when your hand settled on her lower back, she didn't deserve your sympathy.

"Y/N, please, you don't have to forgive me, if it wasn't for my cowardice you wouldn't be in the mess that you're in," Natasha shakily stated, her inability to reel her emotions in truly did shock you, and it was clear to you how broken up over the entire situation she is—as she should be, but it also pains you to see how she blames herself for what happened to you, even if the team agreed, you never once blamed her.

You've had a long time to think the whole situation over, and if you could go back in time you would, in a heartbeat. You'd have slowed down, caught on to her fight or flight response slowly building up and gave her the space she needed, hell you would've even postponed the wedding if she would have only asked. It was the secrets and blatant lying that did you in.

"That's the thing Natasha, I already did," you whispered as you pulled her in for a hug, one that you craved just as much as she did, but the desperation was only visualized from her end. Natasha clung to you like you were still her lifeline, because deep down you always will be.

"I'm sorry," you spoke, and she pulled away with a deep frown full of defiance, "No, you've got nothing to apologize for Y/N, not at all!"

"It's my fault you're hurt Natasha, they told me they wouldn't let you come home," your voice wavered with a concern she didn't expect, but nonetheless she appreciated, "and now that you're back you've being unfairly isolated."

"Hey, hey," Natasha cupped your cheeks when she saw you losing hold of your composure, an all too familiar intimacy that you leaned into within an instant, making the redheads heart flicker with a bit of hope, "They had every right to keep me away, and to keep their distance. I didn't just steal Thor's poptarts krasivaya, I broke your heart, and that's worthy of all this."

You chuckled, "Thor does love his poptarts."

"Yeah, and the team, me included, love you."

An awkward silence fell over the both of you as you remained connected in a loose embrace. Only to be broken when Natasha gazed at your lips with a hunger you recognized as futile. Though you wanted to kiss her just as bad, you couldn't let her back in just yet, so you gently let her go, and nudged her out of your way.

"Sit, I'll make you a proper lunch."

Natasha went to refute your offer, but the way you looked at her made her back down, and at the sound of her relieved sigh as she settled on the stool you smiled in triumph. Natasha never let you take care of her like this before, most of the time she'd glare at you for even insinuating she wasn't capable of doing so; she'd cook eggs on the stove while bleeding out just to prove a point. Literally, once Bruce had to stitch her up as she passive-aggressively fixed dinner.

This wasn't much, but it was a start, and you were hopeful this wasn't a temporary thing. That her injury isn't the reason she's allowing you in like this, and that it's who she became while she was away. It made you think, that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope for you.

—

The mission the team went on ended up turning into quite the doozy. What was meant to be an overnight became a three month long undercover mission. So in that time you were left to either your solitude or Nat's company.

For the first month she herself kept a bit of distance between the two of you. After she was so close to pouncing on you in the kitchen she felt it was the best option. It wasn't fair for her to look at you like you belonged to her, when you didn't even know who she was anymore outside of the rumors, and the harsh truths.

It wasn't until you purposefully set your alarm for four in the morning so you could corner her in the kitchen that she was given no choice but to spend time with you. Neither of you said much, you gently nodded to the mugs on the counter and she graciously accepted the offer.

"Thank you," she hummed, her distinct rasp you'd grown to love in the mornings much smoother as the warm drink coated her throat.

"Don't thank me yet, you have yet to try my omelette," You watched in amusement as the redhead's eyes widened and her head instinctively shook in the negatory. "Um, I'm not hungry, but thank you, really it's kind."

You deadpanned, "Your stomach growled."

Natasha sighed in defeat, begrudgingly she accepted the extended plate, tentatively she cut off an edge, then she moaned at the flavor.

"No fucking way, Y/N, that's delicious!"

"You seem shocked," you gasped with a hand on your chest in feigned offense.

"It's just, my Y/N couldn't even crack an egg."

It's true, Natasha used to do all the cooking after she rescued you from Hydra the first time, but in her absence you had to learn.

"Well consider me the superior Y/N then."

You watched regretfully as your words struck the redhead far deeper than you'd intended.

"Natasha, I—," she cut you off with a warm, albeit hurt smile, "I'm actually in a rush, I have physical therapy today, I'll catch you later."

As the redhead ran away, again, you found your heart was aching at the distance you just reaffirmed with your careless attempt to joke. It wasn't a lie, ever since your failed attempt to wed you were forced to become a more well rounded person, but that didn't need to be a new point of guilt for the redhead to bare.

You finished off her omelette, then retreated back to your room, you'd try again tomorrow.

—

The following day you saw Natasha on the couch, her injured leg was on an ottoman, while the other was curled beneath her as she read a book: Girl in Pieces, it was one you got her for her birthday when she mentioned she needed more to read, it was also your not so subtle way of trying to get her to see your pain.

It warmed your heart to see her actually read it, but really what caught your eye was the hoodie she wore as she flipped the pages. The light grey that swallowed the petite woman was one of yours, it was rather new actually, and even if you were meant to be upset that she stole from a Y/N who didn't know her, you just weren't.

Knowing that on some level she still needed you kept that burning hope that never died alive. Natasha always looked beautiful wearing your clothes, whether it be your hoodie with sweats or an oversized tee paired with her lacy panties. There was nothing she couldn't pull off, but in most scenarios you did, discarding the fabrics on your bedroom floor to feel her.

It was easy to admire her really, the way the sun filled the nearly empty room and reflected off of her was nothing short of angelic. She wore a pensive expression, brows furrowed with lips pursed, and eyes focused as if the words were inspiring her to think critically.

"So, why is it you're not on the mission?"

Natasha giggled when you jumped, of course she knew you were there, she slipped her bookmark between the crisp pages, then gave all of her attention to you with a soft smile.

"Um, I am not exactly cleared to go out yet," you quietly replied as you sat on the couch across from hers, "Not since I got powers."

Natasha's face fell when your hand raised to show the materialization of blue sparks, you were never supposed to be in this situation. Natasha remembers the day she saved you from the fate you eventually still endured.

You'd been so scared when she stumbled upon you in a high tech cage with glass for walls. Hydra had only had you for a few weeks, it was enough time to start their trials, but they only succeeded in altering your physical strength. Now though, they'd given you the powers you never wanted, and now she wanted to cry.

"Oh Y/N," she couldn't bare to see you like this, knowing it was her fault only made it worse. The guilt swimming behind her eyes made you frown just the same, "It's not your fault Nat."

"It kinda is," she replies instantly, "If I wasn't a coward, had I not ran, you would've never been alone for them to take. We'd be truly happy, but more importantly you would be safe."

"Why did you?" Natasha's frown only deepened as you asked the looming question, "Why run?"

"I-It wasn't exactly a choice," she starts, her hands reflexively clenched, before she tightly clasped them together, "It was fight or flight."

The vague answer she gave honestly upset you, you know she was scared, but for her to have such a fearful biological response to you hurt.

"What did I do wrong?"

Natasha shook her head, her brimming tears falling as she did, "Nothing, you were perfect."

"I don't understand."

Natasha's knuckles cracked as she reflexively tightened her grasp, the idea of being this honest scared her, but you also deserved to know, even if you weren't truly you anymore.

"I'm not a good person Y/N," now it was your turn to clench your fists, this undeserved self loathing mantra of hers always infuriated you.

"That's simply not true Natasha, we've all made choices we weren't proud of, I know you're not a bad person, my heart knows that much."

"I broke that heart, it should despise me."

"Well it doesn't, so stop willing it to."

"Why?" her voice cracked, she looked unsure of what she was asking, but she asked anyway.

"I'm destined to love you, I don't have it in me to hate you Natasha, trust me, I already tried."

A wave of clarity washed over her, there was a storm behind her green eyes, and the way you could see her heart breaking devastated you.

"Natasha—"

"I can't believe you lied to me like this..."

Even with an injured leg she was still able to evade your grasp, and escape on the elevator.

"You left me at the altar, but I'm the bad guy?" You huffed to yourself like a petulant child, and stormed off to your room via the many stairs.

—

A loud knock on your door woke you up, you groaned, all you wanted to do after earlier's fight was sleep the rest of the day away, but it appears the redhead wasn't done berating you.

With a scowl to rival her expected one you opened the door, but all you found was a box with your name on it signed from Natasha.

"I hope you find it in your heart to forgive me for earlier's blow out, you've got every right not to, but I hope you do understand I felt blindsided. If you don't, I hold no grudges, and I promise I will leave the compound as soon as possible so you can be comfortable. But if you do, please meet me in the training room at 8."

With the note read you untied the ribbon, then you opened the box to find a customized suit, it was primarily black, but there were these gorgeous waves of varying shades of blue going down the sides of the breathable latex material.

A soft smile graced your face as you ran your hands over the piece, it made you feel special, but more importantly it gave you a feeling of belonging again. For months now they've been too afraid to utilize you in combat, they were worried about the unknown capabilities of course, but you also knew they just didn't want to put you in danger, but that wasn't exactly their choice to keep making. Nat understood.

After less than a minute deliberating you were slipping into the suit you know she spent the last few hours making in Tony's lab for you. Then you made your way down to the gym just in time to find her perching herself atop of a miniature board in a carnival-esque dunk tank.

"Natasha, what is all of this?"

"Well, I see that you are either hesitant to use your powers, or the team is benching you, and in either scenario I want to help you undo it."

"You're injured, are you sure this is safe?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, "Y/N, it is a tiny pool of water, what could you possibly do to me?"

"I could drown you."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," she winked and smirked at you in that dopey way that usually has you crumbling to your knees.

Now it was you rolling your eyes, "Romanoff, what am I even expected to do with this?"

"Whatever your heart desires Y/N: use the water beneath me to pull me in, freeze the water as it exits your hands and throw the ice blocks at the target, or use a water stream."

All was going well, before you began to dunk Natasha in the tank you focused more on your breathing, and the overall serenity one needs to feel to remain under control. Once you felt at peace, something you knew deep down came when Natasha smiled at you, and encouraged you with praises, you began to formulate tiny balls of water, then you upped the ante and focused on chilling them until you had ice.

However, after you dunked her for the tenth time you could see something was wrong, she stayed under the water longer than normal, and judging by the influx of bubbles you knew she was screaming in pain. Something she felt she needed to keep from you as she rose out of the water with a tight lipped smile as she reset the seat and clambered back on with a struggle.

“Timeout,” you shouted while running over to the redhead who was failing to hide her pain, which meant it was likely a drastic feeling.

"Oh come on Y/N, we were just getting warmed up," the redhead frowned, "Or cooled down?"

“Nat, I saw you screaming in pain,” you admit, but she shrugged, “What is life if not painful?”

“I’m fine,” she tried again, but the truth was she was the furthest thing from it, but she didn’t want to present as incapable, or or weak, and she just didn’t want to let you down again.

"Natasha, please just be honest with me," you sighed, hand falling over hers as it sits over her calf, "If we're going to fix us, you have to be."

Natasha met your worried gaze with a tearful one of her very own, "W-we can fix this?"

It shocked you to see her so unsure, telling you that she was helping you without expectations. Letting you train with her because she knew you better than anyone else, and she knew you were scared of what you have become. It was endearing, and reminded you of the Natasha that you fell in love with all those years ago.

"It won't be the way it was overnight Natasha, but if you're here, as in no more running when scared, and you're honest, we can get us back."

"Okay," she timidly whispered with a nod, followed up by a shaky exhale, "The therapist said I need surgery, but I'm terrified Y/N/N."

"Oh love," you lifted her hand up to your lips to deposit a gentle kiss, "I am so sorry it's not getting better on its own, I know you hate the hospital, and being put under even more so."

"I can't do it, I don't want to—I won't."

You gently lifted her off the platform of the dunk tank so you could hold her in your arms, "Yes you will baby, because you are one of the strongest people I've ever known, and if it'll help you, I'll be right there the whole time."

"Really?" her hands gripped you over the suit in an attempt to garner a semblance of reason, and you smiled at the way she used you to ground herself like this, "Of course, you're not ever going to be alone if you don't want to be."

"Never again," she whispered the promise, "This is where I want to be for the rest of time."

"Funny," you smirked down at her, your right hand cupped her cheek, "I was thinking the same thing," you pulled her in for a kiss, her parted lips swallowed your sudden giggle as she eagerly moved to deepen the reunion kiss.

"However, the bed might be more comfortable, what do you think?" Natasha whimpered hotly as you bit into her lower lip, "Please detka..."

—

“I told you it’d work,” Tony boasts, and the little witch rolls her eyes while filling her duffle bag up with a discernible quickness, “No, you said ‘why does it matter’ and ‘this isn’t my problem’ when Clint and I suggested this.”

“Well, initially, yeah, but I changed my tune.”

“Yeah, like five minutes ago when Natasha fell into the water with a cry and Y/N ran to her,” Steve bemoaned while starting up the jet so they could ‘return a month and a half early because they were just so incredibly efficient.’

———

4,572 Words

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg #black widow imagine #black widow x reader

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winchester-girl67 · 5 months

Text

Wild Hearts (Part 3)

Summary: After a day of sand surfing, Dean surprises Y/N after a couple too many drinks. Things go awry when she tries to help him and she finds herself stepping in between him and his father.

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,238

Warnings: underage kiss, age gap (reader is 16, Dean is 20 but closer to 21), physical abuse by a parent, violence, injury/blood, mentions of death and alcoholism, John is an asshole in this one, underage drinking, drunk!Dean, protective!Dean, language, slow burn, angst, a little heartbreak, mutual pining, a bit of fluff

A/N: Even though this is the last part of the main plot, their story is only half over.

_____

You shoved your beer in the sand and took a bite of your hotdog. Two bites later, Dean sat down next to you. You felt him side eyeing you but you didn't look over, you stared out at the horizon instead.

"Are you that mad at me?" He asked with a quiver in his voice. "I fucked up, I'm sorry."

You swallowed the last of your hotdog, "What are you talking about?"

"In the Jeep, my comment about your uniform, I swear I didn't mean it to come out that way. I figured you'd be mad, so I'm trying to give you space. But now you look just as upset as you were last night." He sniffled and shifted his eyes to the horizon, then back again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steeling his jaw.

"I'm not mad," you said, turning to face him.

The others were far enough away that they couldn't overhear and only echoes of laughter met your ears. The sunlight shone down on Dean and you could see the layers of colours under his skin from where his father had hit him. And you felt the need to ease the tension.

"You lied," you teased, shaking your can of beer that was nearly half empty now, "Chocolate's still better." You smiled and held out the can for him, "Want the rest?"

He nodded and took the can from you, "I can take you home, if you want?" He still thought you were mad.

You shook your head, "I haven't tried sand surfing yet. Could you still show me how? I'm scared I won't be able to stop and wipe out."

"Yeah, of course." He stood up and reached down a hand for you. You grabbed it and he hoisted you up to your feet, "Still friends?"

"Still friends." You smiled and this time he returned the gesture. "You can't get rid of me that easily, Dean."

He chuckled, "Good because I tend to fuck up more than once." Then he let go of your hand like he'd forgotten he was holding it and chugged the half a beer you gave him.

The others stuck around while Benny grilled seconds and you and Dean headed out to where they'd left the boards. Dean handed you one and you shuffled your feet into the bindings as if they were slippers. Dean did the same with his own board and stood so he was facing you.

He grabbed your hands to keep you upright when you started to fall backwards, "Keep your knees bent and weight centred, okay?" You nodded and looked down the edge of the sand dune. It looked much steeper now than when you were further away. "Y/N, look at me." He smiled and it instantly made you feel better, "I won't let go, okay? We're just gonna ride straight down and once the ground levels out the board stops pretty fast on its own, not like in the snow." You nodded again, assuming there was more friction with sand so that made sense. "Ready?"

He started to shift you both towards the edge of the dune, "Wait! Wait. How do I stop?"

He chuckled when you squeezed his hands tighter, "You won't need to but it's real simple, you just lean back on your heels and lift your toes. Turning depends on how deep the sand is but you shift your weight to your front foot and move your hips the way you wanna go." He explained and you repeated his words in your head, slightly more confident you could attempt a stop or a turn if you needed to. "Ready this time?"

"As I'll ever be," you laughed nervously and fixed your grip on his hands.

One last shift and the boards started to glide down the dune, sand kicking up between you and covering the edges of the boards. Your speed increased and your hair whipped back in the wind and tickled your neck. It was a freeing feeling and you shut your eyes for a moment to bask in the feel of it. Trusting Dean not to let go and he didn't, even when your toes bumped together every now and again. Then the ground levelled out and you came to a stop.

"How was your first time?" Dean asked, releasing your hands and slipping his feet from the bindings before he whipped his head up and raised his hands. Realizing what he'd just asked. "I didn't mean- I can't stop putting my foot in my mouth."

"Dean, it's fine, I know what you meant and it was fucking awesome! Can we go again?"

He laughed silently and chewed his lip, "Uh-huh." He nodded and you collected your board and followed after him as he climbed back up the dune.

You rode down the dune with Dean as training wheels a couple more times until you felt comfortable enough to try it on your own. The last run you'd challenged him to a race and were now sprawled out on the side of the dune after colliding and wiping out. Luckily, it was near ground level and neither of you got badly hurt. Just a couple of bruises both of you would be proud to bare in a day or two.

You stared up at the grey clouds rolling in overhead, a storm was coming. "Do you think it'll pass?"

"Probably not," Dean said, following your gaze and getting his breath back after you'd winded him by landing on him. "Wasn't on the radar earlier though."

You rolled over to face him and propped your head on your hand. Both your boards had been dislodged in the fall and lay a couple yards away at the bottom of the dune. Dean grinned up at you and booped you on the nose. His smile reached his eyes and his injuries, new and old, were forgotten.

"How long do we have," you asked, knowing he'd have a better sense having lived his whole life in this town.

"Half hour, tops."

"Hmm," you flopped back down next to him using his arm as a pillow and feeling the heat of his chest radiate off him. "But I'm not ready to leave yet."

"Me either," he breathed and dipped his head when you looked at him.

Then his lips fit over yours and he kissed you gently. His touch was so soft that you barely felt the pressure of his lips before they were gone. He waited half a breath, green eyes searching yours, then kissed you again.

Dean was leaning over you now, his breath ghosting over your lips before he kissed you a third time and the reality of it all finally sunk in. It wasn't that you didn't want this, you did, but it would come at a cost. One you weren't willing to let Dean pay.

You pushed on his chest and separated your lips, "Stop."

"I'm sorry," Dean scrambled off you and crumbled to the ground a couple feet away. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I-I didn’t..."

"Hey, Dean," you placed your hand on his shoulder, his back facing you. "It's all right, I'm not upset that it happened, but you do understand why it can't happen again, right?"

Thunder sounded overhead, rumbling the ground beneath you and a minute later the Jeep was pulling around the dune to pick you and Dean up. Dean collected the boards and tossed them in the trunk, letting you climb into the backseat before he slid in after you. You wished you had a chance to talk to him without the others around. You didn't want to leave things with him like that but you didn't have much choice.

You sat in bed after dinner, drying your hair with a towel and staring at your phone. You figured once you got the sand out of every crevice of your body you'd be able to think clearer but it had been hours now and you still couldn't decide what you wanted to text Dean. And then an ellipses popped up, Dean was typing...

Dean: Have you ever seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off?

Y/N: Um, yeah. Why?

Dean: Come outside.

Y/N: It's pouring out.

Y/N: ?!

Dean: ...

You hopped out of bed and tugged on your raincoat, slipping outside unseen as your parents had gone to bed and your brother was either playing video games or chatting with the blonde over video chat in his room.

Dean spread out his arms when he saw you and stumbled over from leaning against Baby. His father's beloved car was parked in your driveway and a strange ugly butterfly fluttered in your stomach. You wanted to vomit after everything Benny had told you.

"Don't," you pushed a very drunk Dean away when he tried to hug you. He pouted and fell back against the hood of the Impala, letting the rain soak through his clothes. "What did you do?"

The front bumper of the car was smashed in like he'd kicked the damned thing and a headlight was shattered beyond repair. No way he could hide this from his father. But maybe if he was lucky, his father would think he'd done it by driving home drunk, as it seemed he often did.

"Remember the Ferrari? The car in the movie. I've had dreams about doing that to his precious Baby." Dean said, looking down at the damage he'd done and laying his palm flat on the hood. "I tried, but I can't. I love her, too. I can still see my mom in the front seat, reaching over to baby Sammy the day we brought him home from the hospital. It broke him when she died. My father. He wasn't always like this."

"It's not the car's fault your father is an ass, Dean. It's okay to love her." He met your eyes and you could tell he was aching for a hug. So you gave him one. "It's not your fault either, you know."

He squeezed his arms around you as his body shook and he sniffled. You rubbed your hands over his shoulders and he buried his face in your neck, reeking of booze. He couldn't drive home on his own and you needed to get Baby back in his driveway if there was any chance Dean was getting away with this.

It took some convincing but you finally got Dean to let you go. You carted him over to the passenger side and pushed him in the seat. Then ran around and crawled in behind the wheel. You might not have had a license, but you knew how to drive, theoretically. You only failed the written driver's test anyway, which was more technical, and you were sure you'd ace the practical when it was time.

Of course to do that you needed your learner's permit in order to practice driving. So aside from that one time your dad let you drive in circles around an empty parking lot, you didn't have much practice or knowledge about how cars worked; your love for pre-seventies muscle was purely aesthetic and luckily, Baby was an automatic. So you managed to get the Impala backed out onto the street easily enough and headed in the direction towards Dean's house. The hardest part was keeping your speed steady without watching the odometer the entire time.

Then the rain picked up and coated the windshield so thick you couldn't see and you fiddled with the controls until you got the wipers going full speed. Dean wasn't much help and leaned over until his head was in your lap and he passed out.

You were only a street away when you ran a hidden stop sign and saw red and blue lights flashing in the rearview mirror. You panicked as you pulled over to the side of the road. You we're screwed, Dean was fucked and there was no way Baby was making it home.

You were stuck sitting in the waiting area of the police station for several hours. Dean had been carried off to a cell in the back where, presumably, he could sleep it off and your parents disappeared into an office the moment they'd first arrived and had yet to reemerge. You twiddled your thumbs and smoothed out your old pyjama bottoms, the ones with the Hello Kitty pattern.

A tall, broad man entered the station and carried himself up to the front desk in oil stained work boots. He tapped on the wood impatiently, the whites of his eyes as red as his nose. He told the officer his name was John Winchester and he was there to pick up his son. You didn't think anything of it, you two couldn't have been the only kids in trouble that night. But then the officer escorted a slightly less drunk Dean into the waiting area and your heart threw up into your throat.

You never asked what Dean's last name was. Winchester?

Dean locked eyes with his father from across the room as if he could feel his presence before anything else. He didn't glance around so he didn't see you and hung his head as he walked over to his father. You didn't hear what he said to him, but Dean hunched his shoulders even lower. And then they headed for the door.

Sure, Dean got drunk, Dean stole his father's car and drove Baby to your house, and then Dean let a minor without a license drive while he was passed out in the passenger seat; but Dean hadn't got caught, you did. You should've been in more trouble than him and in a way you were -then Dean glanced back at you and mouthed 'I'm sorry' and followed his father outside- and you knew you weren't.

You wondered, if an accident instigated the bruises Dean already had when you met him, then what would something intentional provoke. You thought for sure he'd have a cast the next time you'd see him and the old bruising would be refreshed, but then you thought of that scar. The scar you'd only seen a part of and a shiver ran through your jaw.

John might very well kill his son tonight. You might never see Dean again.

At that thought, you were out of your seat and rushing for the door that Dean and his father had left through only moments ago. The officer at the desk shouted something behind you but you didn't stop as you skirted past him.

You burst outside and scanned the parking lot, spotting a tow truck running with Baby hooked up to the back and you sprinted towards it. You heard shouting coming from inside the cab and then what sounded like a struggle. You climbed up the cab and ripped the door open. You grabbed Dean by the arm and wrenched him away from his father.

Dean spilled out onto the pavement and you helped him to his feet. His lip bled where it split again and his left eye was clamped shut. You dragged him back towards the station but only got so far before you heard John spit and shout as he exited the cab and rushed after you.

Dean grabbed you by your waist and shoved you forward, away from his father. Then turned around to face him, putting himself between the two of you. Protecting, like he always did, only now it was with you instead of Sam. You tried to tug his arm but he shook you off and stared down the beast of a man barreling after you both.

John tackled Dean to the ground and pinned him to the pavement. It wasn't a fair fight, John was in a different weight class and just as his fist was about to make contact with his son's jaw for a second time, you screamed and jumped on his back, choking him from behind with the crook of your elbow. He cursed and you yanked hard on his ear with your free hand, digging your nails into the skin until the tips were sticky with blood.

You heard shouting that didn't come from any of you and a rush of footsteps before you were ripped from John's back and thrust into your mother's arms. She held you tight as you tried to get back to Dean but two other officers were already separating the two of them and wrestling John to the ground, cuffing him.

Anger and fear surged through your veins until all you could hear was your own heartbeat and you pried your mom's hands from your arms.

You rushed towards Dean as he stood up and buried yourself in his chest. He groaned and bent his shoulders as he hugged you back. His cheek resting against your hair as he breathed you in. He was safe.

It was over, as far as you were concerned, Dean and Sam could live with you until Sam aged out. You'd even give up your room, you didn't care. Your parents were fair people, they wouldn't make him go back to a home like that. Not now that they've seen it.

You didn't realize you were crying until Dean shushed you and locked his hands behind your back. You were supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around, but he didn't seem to mind.

It turned out John had already had a couple of offences when he was arrested and taking a swing at the officer detaining him was the last straw. He was going to prison, not for as long as he deserved but long enough for Sam to age out. They wouldn't have to worry about him for a while, but they needed a place of their own to start building a life rather than staying where they were and paying off their father's debt.

So it didn't come as a surprise to you when a week later you saw Dean leaning back against Baby as he waited outside of your school, after your last class cut out. Sam was in the passenger seat and you couldn't even see in the back with all of their stuff crowding it.

They were leaving.

Dean's eyes followed you as you walked over to him, "Is this where you beg me to come with you?" You asked.

He laughed silently, "I thought you'd beg me to stay."

You sighed and played with your plaid skirt, remembering Dean's comment about your uniform almost made you smile, "So, where are you headed?"

"Our Uncle Bobby and Aunt Jody's place over in Sioux Falls, they're not blood relatives but she and my mom used to be close, so they said we could crash with them for a while since they have a suite above their garage. And Bobby has his own auto-shop so he offered me a job." He explained with a sad smile but hope in his eyes for the first time since you'd met him.

"How's Sam feeling about the move?" You asked, noting his forlorn little brother gazing out the window at nothing in particular.

"He's not thrilled about being separated from Ruby." He leaned in close and whispered, "She's not a great influence on him, though. Bit of a pothead." You laughed and he bit his lip, "This is a good look for you, by the way."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to comment." You blushed and spun around so your skirt flared and showed off your knee high socks. "I'm gonna miss you. This place is going to be so boring without you."

"We'll see each other again." Dean cocked his head and brushed his lips to your cheek in a soft kiss, "I promise. This isn't the end for us."

"Don't forget about me."

"That's not possible," his hands found your shoulders and he pulled you in for a hug, clutching you to him. "I wish we met sooner."

"You would've just left sooner." You said, holding him just as tight.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"You'd still be too old." You teased.

"Maybe you're too young."

You sighed when he drew back, "You're taking Baby?"

"Yeah," he glanced back at the car and the damage he'd done, "I have some amends to make with her and if my father wants her back when he gets out, he'll have to find me first."

"You deserve her more than him," you said and he shifted on his feet, his chin quivering. "Text me when you get to Sioux Falls."

"Still gonna worry about me?"

"Every-damn-day. So you better keep in touch."

He cleared his throat and kissed your forehead, "Goodbye, Y/N."

You shook your head, you couldn't say ‘goodbye’, it would feel like forever. "I'll see you soon." You started to back away and head towards where your brother's car was parked.

"Oh- uh, Y/N. Hold on!" He opened his car door and grabbed a package from the seat. "Don't open it now." He handed you a gift wrapped in newspaper.

"I can't say goodbye again, Dean."

"Then don't." He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear and turned around.

You heard the familiar rumble of Baby's engine and lifted your teary gaze to see them take off down the road. Then Dean beeped the horn twice as a final goodbye and you burst into a half laughing, half teary-eyed mess.

You didn't even attempt to reign it in for your brother's sake as you slid into the passenger seat with Dean's gift on your lap. You toyed at the edge of the newspaper and ripped it open. It was a framed picture of you and Dean sand surfing, although the boards weren't in the picture. It was before he kissed you, he'd taken a selfie after you wiped out with him the first time, insisting he needed to document the first time you laughed that day.

"Are you okay? Do I need to beat his ass?" Your brother asked when you cried even harder. He was up to speed on everything, Dean's home situation and what had happened at the police station, so he was being an ass but a sweet ass. You just shook your head and showed him the picture. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I don't think I've ever felt that way about someone." Then he patted your shoulder awkwardly, but it was a start. A start at rebuilding a bond with your brother in light of recent events.

You jumped out of the car when you got home, beelining for the garage. You picked up a hammer and nail and headed inside, brushing past your father. Who was making a point at being home more since the police station and he followed after you with a concerned look.

You got to your room, picked the first wall you saw and tapped the nail into the sheetrock until only the head stuck out, your father watching silently as you did so. You smiled and dropped the hammer onto the bed, then hung up your first picture frame in your new home. It was only five-by-seven and looked tiny on the wall, but you didn’t care. It made your room cozy and warm. Then you dug out some moving boxes from your closet and started to unpack. Finally. You’d been dragging your feet since the move in the spring and left non-essentials packed away.

"Are you working this Sunday?" You asked as you opened one of the boxes and started pulling things out and piling them on your bed.

"I don't have to. Why? Is there something you wanna do?" Your father asked, leaning in the doorway.

"There's a car show at the park," you suggested and cocked your head.

"Count me in," he smiled and dug your phone out from his pocket. They'd taken it away in an attempt to ground you but they'd forgotten it was connected to your laptop the whole time. "Mom and I talked and we don't feel right about not being able to reach you." He handed the phone back to you. "No more stunts like last week, you scared the daylights out of us. We didn't know what to think when we got that phone call."

It might've been the forced perspective that brought your family together but it took more than that in the long run. You realized at some point you stopped trying to connect with them too. And in order to reconnect, they had to try but you had to try too. Like making a house a home, it didn’t just happen overnight, someone had to take the first step and everyone had to put in the effort. Life gets busy and you take love for granted; it shouldn’t have took a wakeup-call to bring your family back together, someone should’ve taken that first step long before but you could learn from it and make an effort in the future.

The text from Dean came later the next day.

Dean: We made it! If you see Benny, please tell him to stop sending me pictures of the ocean. I get it already! But it's hard enough and this is better for Sam. And it won't be forever.

You didn't want to believe him, but it felt good to; so you did. Hope wasn't something to be afraid of anymore. You would see him again.

_________________________

Part 4

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33 @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers

#au!dean winchester x reader #au!dean x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #spn reader insert #au!dean winchester #spn series #wild hearts series

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satomatto · 5 months

Text

. //TK DAYS | NAOYA ZEN'IN.

cw: femdom; bondage; supposedly non-con/dub-con towards the end; Naoya is a bastard and that says it all.

tw: control/submission; brat taming; orgasm control; dry orgasm; semi-public; anal sex; is prostate massage with an armature part of your plans, dear friends? now yes; humiliation; binding; it can be a little incoherent in places; facesitting; foot fetish (a little?); Naoya is a bastard x2.

wc: 3.2k

Your fingers gently run over the rough rope. The quiet, sweet breathing right next to you is relaxing. The pretty face is surprisingly calm. A little off-putting. And after all, this guy is cute only when he's asleep - the muscles of his face are soft and relaxed, and his mouth isn't spewing tons of nasty, barbed words that spread through you like poison.

The airy lace shirt, you know that silly pink thing makes him drool. He'd prefer to fuck you without taking it off and then jerk you off for weeks, clutching it in his fist and reaching for it with every fiber of his worthless soul until the smell wears off.

It's truly disgusting to watch it from behind the screen. While he's sure you still don't suspect a thing. Oh yeah, sure, the bastard moans loud and high while he does it - it's impossible not to realize what's going on during these 'meditation' sessions in the back room of the clan mansion. It's worth giving him credit, he's actually more focused afterward. As befits a worthy Zenin heir.

And, as befits a worthy bride of a Zenin heir, you're doing a pretty good job of keeping him in line. After you came into his life and followed him around, he became much more balanced, which is surprising to everyone. You've heard a few thank yous from the servants. You know, the assistant Zenin personal chef adores you. And your personal maid, who was begging to be transferred somewhere - even demoted, expecting you to treat her like Naoya - is now willing to die for this place.

Good food is never too much to ask for, though, is it? And always clean clothes and royal-level service at the snap of your fingers comes in handy most of the time, too. Besides, access to the gossip going around between the clans and in this cursed place comes in handy too.

For example, that's how you found out that Naoya has a small altar in his room dedicated to a man named Toji. Fushiguro was once a Zenin, and after a couple fateful interactions, little Naoya made him his ideal - in fact, even without going into details, you find the man worthy of respect, but Naoya… He's always been the odd one. Anyway, since this place was never built on such high feelings, like a respect, it's a sin not to take advantage of another of his weaknesses - that's the extra pressure points, right?

But, uh, can't you just throw away all your trump cards? Nope, and that's the only reason you're not talking right now. Yes, sometimes it's worth it to stick your tongue up your ass to enjoy watching others bury their heads in the sand, luckily for you, Naoya wasn't good at shutting up in time, but isn't that more fun?

Looking at him makes you think about so many things and it does make you want to try to mess with him in much more subtle ways, but at the moment you should stick to your plan. It's too early to cross the line. Boundaries need to be pushed first, then broken.

You know, it's pretty sweet. What a blatant variety - the sheer volume of curses he heaps on you (the only thing his generosity shows, merit note) while his cock desperately jerks and leaking thick, translucent pre-ejaculate profusely. He's already soiled his expensive clothes and is now whimpering at your feet like some dirty dog.

"Doesn't your pretty mouth know how to do anything else?" you mock him. He'd said the same thing to you once, one of your first nights, and you hadn't had much experience in bed, either, since most of your interactions had been limited to fingering and the porn the maid had shown you.

It's not something a noble lady can do, but in the end, you had to - after you were put up as collateral, you had to gain the trust of the heir.

So all your family's debts were forgotten as a wedding present. Still, thanks to this performance, you remain relatively free, so it's not like you regret what you've done.

Especially because the heir to the clan himself turned out to be such a whore.

The soft slippers you usually wear - you wish you'd changed them for high-heeled shoes. Preferably with a platform, the kind that would smear that pretty face on the garden tiles where he's lying tied up and helpless.

With a sharp tug on the ropes, you struggle to get this carcass to sit up and turn around, safely ignoring his protests.

Still, he should be quieter. Just because you dragged him to an abandoned, albeit neat barn, doesn't mean he can yell as usual and go unnoticed.

What a shame for the heir to the clan to cry out for help while in such a humiliating position. He knows how quickly rumors spread, and his frankly vile nature doesn't help his position as a victim. He'll be laughed at - there's no other way to put it!

Either way, he shuts up pretty quickly when your foot rests against his lips. Maybe fuzzy slippers really weren't the best choice - he'll choke on it. Fine, though, because in one elegant motion, you drop the slipper, which lands quite successfully nearby.

You flirt with his lips one last time. Well, he must not be ready for that yet.

So, you gently slide your foot lower, rubbing your fingertips through his clothes.

The very next second, you step on, placing your foot flat and causing him to topple backwards, hitting his head painfully on the wooden bench behind him. Watch as the idiot shakes his hips, looking for a better footing to keep from falling over.

The way he looks at you in that moment is priceless. There's so much helplessness in that fleeting contact that is immediately replaced by a contrived coldness afterward. He doesn't like restrictions. Also, he's never let you be on top, eh, complexes, complexes… Well, you'll have a blast now.

What are you thinking about, running your little foot over his cock? Not that you're going to get dirty in it too. And this pedicure was only recently done… But it's too late to back out.

Pretty warm for late summer, isn't it? The way Naoya's moans resonate in your crotch makes you redouble your efforts. Your position isn't very stable, especially because of the way he wiggles his hips to the beat, letting out another dirty moan, followed immediately by a filthy curse in a language you don't know. Well, at least it sounded vicious enough….

How nice - Naoya manages to come to his senses again and gets into that prickly shell again, spitting out another insult in your direction. He's starting to get repetitive in them. It seems even this rambunctious boy has limits; or he's just lost the ability to think clearly already, which is just as likely.

How long do you think it will take for him to soil himself in his own cum, like the dirty dog that he is? Ah, probably quite a while.

Just when you think about it, his pathetic cock begins to throb more tangibly under your leg, like a butterfly trapped in a cage (too elegant a comparison), and alas he's still moaning in a way that so caresses your ears, signaling that he's really close. But, are you going to give him that opportunity? What a freaking pump jump….

Losing your balance a little, your foot slides down, landing right on his balls. He's a big enough boy to be able to support some of your weight, ignore those frustrated-painful moans coming from this pile of incoherent shit. He's looking at you with a pitying stare, out of his clouded eye sockets. He's gonna cry, that poor guy!

At first you thought you'd hurt him somehow, but when you looked down, you saw a charming picture. This one was whining not because he was in discomfort - rather the opposite, he was literally dripping with it.

Ah, yes, that pissy little masochist.

Now you're really wondering what exactly makes him so obsessed with his training. Oh, maybe he even have played with his juicy ass before… In fact, you don't really care if he's had experience. After all, you're always happy to give people an unforgettable time!

The light satin pouch swinging on the delicate silk cord tied around your hips opened to let your delicate fingers in.

You've been planning to use it on him for a while now.

Nice wavy texture, with a very successful seal at the end, still with a comfortable, curved handle - isn't it fabulous? The material is wood. This was hard to find - such good work…. You could tell you were very pleased with your find. Well, it's time to use it on this brat, he's been so quiet, it's almost boring.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, he once again makes a wry face and venomously spouts how disgusted he is to be here, once again demanding to be untied in order to teach you some kind of lesson.

You'd think you'd be that stupid. It's not like he'd think of anything better than just making you taste your own medicine. Though you're both good at that - spitting at each other from the same angle until one of you comes up with something new, and so on and so forth. Kind of ironic.

His cock drooped and now he was only squinting somewhere through you. You didn't like the fact that he was distracted, but for the sake of a brighter future, you could be patient for a while, couldn't you?

Of course, it didn't make you feel any better to listen to the asshole's beautiful, sweet, exceptionally flattering speeches. Your soft, condescending smile won't waver - you've spent so much time perfecting it in the mirror that nothing can shake it now. Yeah, you've definitely been preparing for something like this.

Maybe not specifically for this day - you didn't even expect it to go so smoothly. Maybe our omniscient and ready for anything heir is so used to you that he doesn't even pay attention to your cursed energy anymore? You've heard that everyone has it, but even so, you can't control it. That's sad, because then you'd have so many new opportunities. And danger.

But that makes it even more interesting.

It's also funny that despite all his brave speeches, the proud Zenin still hasn't used his cursed technique that he bragged so much about. Maybe the ropes are in his way, but it's highly doubtful - the most ordinary untreated harnesses, taken a couple of days ago from the same shed.

That leaves only one possibility: he's actually enjoying it, or in other words, getting a real high, isn't he?

Even watching Naoya deal with such a pathetic situation, covered in your juices, his cock leaking more and more, even through the erection ring you so thoughtfully put on, right after he started moaning too loudly, even after your warning. Not that he was a rabbit in bed, despite the fact that he often finished things earlier than you would have liked, he was ready to go for another round almost immediately - he clearly lacked stamina, because he would also finish after a couple of slimy moans and a couple minutes of panting whimpering. You should teach him how to fuck, dear.

Yes, definitely - spread his legs even wider, tying another knot behind his back as he bites his own lips, holding back a heaving moan. He's ready to burst from the fact that you're finally coming down on his cock. The freshly cut grass is actually quite unpleasantly prickly. However, it smells good. Unlike this--

All right, fine, in fact, the master of water procedures knows how to give himself a good bath - with all those silly rituals, he most often emerges from the ofuro with a very pleasant, lingering smell of green tea and honey, among a whole bunch of disparate but surprisingly well-blended scents, even the smell of lavender slips in.

However, even all this splendor wears off after a week of regular training and other delights of a sorcerer's life. And this man is clearly not going to bother with even a simple shower once every three days, so is it worth talking about how he usually smells? Especially when you have to give him oral.

You just can't stand it, even though Naoya himself adopts a cute, wrinkled expression on your face as he stretches your mouth and nips at your throat, trying to get you to take him even deeper. Every time, he feels obligated to fuck you the hardest he can so that the next day you'll wrinkle your nose every time you need to open your mouth, even if he doesn't enjoy it himself. He just likes to see you in pain.

He may know more about clan politics than you do, but you're clearly a bit more educated than someone who spends most of his time as an adult in some sort of training (and even that is questionable now).

He stopped in that regard as soon as he turned sixteen, yes, his manners aren't bad, but still, they leave a lot to be desired, especially compared to you. Well, your former educational institution had high standards.

At the very least, you still have the support of your family and you're not his wife yet, and who's to say they have pride and would rather be up to their ears in bloody debt than let their precious eldest daughter be humiliated into full marriage.

He can't just beat you up, and his bullshit isn't the least bit intimidating, at least not yet, not once, after his next verbal diarrhea, has he ever raised a hand to you. You highly doubt his upbringing played into that. He's not a silent biter.

You pull your panties down to your ankles and pull them off, shoving them deeper into his mouth. So they don't fall out. It would be better to shove them down from your leg for security, but you're more focused now on the idea of how hard his eyes will roll. Will you be able to make him cry? There's no time to waste, because the asshole is starting to realize something - the last thing you need is for him to start squirming.

The smooth wood slides easily between your labia, collecting your natural lubrication. Yes, it may be not enough, even over the top, especially for someone who has never tried anything like this before. But, somehow, you don't care. Like he once did.

You can still remind him of the time that bastard brazenly spit in your crotch and ignoring your willingness to do it, he put it all the way in, holding your arms above your head with a steely grip.

Oh, and afterward he was so complimentary about the way your walls clenched around him that you'd think he actually liked it, pfft. You remember perfectly well how hard it was for him to move.

Here, even Naoya, the speed himself, somehow lasted longer than five minutes, all the while panting and twitching every time you clamped down because of the unpleasant sensations down there, intentionally or not. After that, he left in unhappy, snorting unhappily.

Oh, you'd forgotten how beautiful the moments were when he was silent. As you shifted him into a horizontal position, you realized that you hadn't really thought about picking up more proper knots.

It's going to be a little uncomfortable, but it's too late to back out - not when you've already done it all. You want to get to the end, and Naoya will to remember this day.

As you thought about how to push the toy in, you were totally oblivious to Naoya. You might have been a little lost in your own thoughts, but without even realizing it, you were playing with your pussy, gently collecting your juices on the toy. Well, there was nowhere to get lube anyway (and even though initially you wanted to limit yourself to spit, such a vulnerable view could not help but inspire lustful thoughts).

The guy below was literally seething, and why wouldn't he be? Hovering right over him, you were literally giving him the VIP-seats to this voyeur.

It's amazing how you didn't think of that before. He was scrutinizing your curves so closely that you couldn't even think about the admiration your body aroused in him - only senseless lust could move him, of course. Such a graceful figure, skillful hands… Ah, no wonder he likes to watch you so much - to tell you the truth, you'd do the same if you were him.

The moans coming out through his gag were music to your ears. Couldn't have been more charming.

Well, it's time for dessert. You squat down, getting comfortable on his chest and playfully wiggling your hips, teasing him even more, you spread his legs. He still doesn't understand that you want to give him the slip - poor guy. so naive… Locking the knots so that he can't move the hips at the worst possible moment, flattening your head like a watermelon, you return to his crotch.

Gently, just touching the overexcited, sensitive cock, you gently move lower and lower, smearing your secretions all over his ass. He seems to start to realize what's going on - through the half-drunk fog of arousal. he starts to move his hips indignantly, really only helping you to push the dildo into his anus.

A light flick on his engorged cock is enough to make him shriek and hastily shut up in a rag. Literally.

The ribbed walls of the wooden dildo graze his entrance with startling frequency. You might not be too rough on him, it's not to your advantage - that's an easier way to phrase it.

After a couple of thrusts, you get the feeling that he has a vacuum cleaner in his ass, otherwise how then did he create such a powerful pump? Yeah, there are more and more questions to those training sessions, perhaps you should attend one sometime…..

He's wriggling around like some kind of worm. Almost pathetic, but what can you do - you're already tired of it. Perhaps it's time to finish it?

Accelerating your thrusts to the point where your hand starts to go numb, suddenly, stopping, you grab his flushed cock. It feels swollen, as do his balls.

It must be painful? Not being able to get free for so long.

You probably should have tortured him a little longer, made him walk with the ring long enough for him to come crawling back to you, but you've had enough of that already. Nerves are getting the better of you, aren't it?

Such tension - ah, his whole body shakes and arches as you squeeze him lightly at the base.

The muffled click of the lock on the ring sends a wave of satisfaction through your body. Zenin is so sensitive right now, he could cum from your breath-… And that's something you should have thought about a little earlier. Or at least realize how hard it's been on him all this time. Probably should have brought tissues, though… What do you need them for when you have such an adorable mouth around? Should you get him to clean you? Oh, no, you've got a better idea.

Sliding closer to his face, still wiggling your hips and never stopping generously jerking him off, you position your ass roughly where his mouth is. From the sounds of it, the heir managed to spit out your makeshift gag the moment you sat on him. Come on, you're not that heavy, but apparently it was just too much for some people - heavy breathlessness is a testament to that.

At first you thought he wouldn't have thought of it on his own, because he'd never been brilliantly intelligent - brazen, maybe, but now that his brains were leaking out through his cock (and still soaking into his clothes), he was unable to form the simplest coherent sentence, making only scraps of sounds that should be… Words?

However, his tongue was between your legs pretty quickly, desperately playing with your entrance and engaging your clit. Maybe you cost each other, finally deciding to pull the dildo out of his ass, with a distinctive pop, slowly pulling out and yanking sharply when there were only millimeters left; you come to the point where you can't reuse it.

Not wanting to put the dirty toy away in that lovely pouch, you toss it into the nearest bushes, getting comfortable on the guy's face beneath you. As far as you can remember, this part of the garden will barely be reached by Friday, so you have plenty of time.

Ah, turns out this prick is really good at this. Perhaps you shouldn't have underestimated him and his complaints about you aren't so unfounded? But, he hasn't given you a hint of that until now, so… It's not enough to have talent - you have to know how to use it.

And now you've found the perfect use for it.

Even though it's a little selfish, you ignore his whimpering - on edge, you decide that a slight asphyxiation wouldn't hurt him. After all, he's only shown his best feelings for pain before.

With a loud groan, you move all over the surface available to you, rubbing your pussy all over his face, and finally soiling him with your juices, you move up and get, by your own admission, the best look on his face today.

All wet, slimy stuff, greedily gulping air with his mouth like a beached fish, tongue out and eyes rolled back in delight. His cock seems to twitch again, but this time nothing comes out of it - the guy's body shakes with spasms and he struggles desperately on the ground, trying in vain to get out of the ropes and uncomfortable position.

To think what you've driven him to - what a bad girl, eh! And exactly the same thinks the unfortunate man who came out of that damned house at such a late hour…

#headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin #naoya x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #naoya zenin smut

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