#he's one day older than me btw

[biracy]

My boyfriend is the oldest but my girlfriend is the tallest but I have the most followers so keep that in mind when writing my callout doc

[hollypies]

Bday is the 19th!!! Whoop whoop!!! Yippee!!!

The one day where I line up with my older brother in age. I'll be 18 and he'll be 19 for one day only. The 20th is his bday so my bday is the ONLY day we line up like that. It's very special to me

[infraredss]

absolutely fucked that i can't go into the hairdressers and just say "lesbian" and have them immediately understand what i want

[ohworm-writes]

It’s so funny to me how me, a person who creates reader insert fanfiction on the internet, is so horrible with their own relationship but they can write a damn good story about everything they want in it

[leitmotif]

texting my cousins is so good i love them but also i wish we could skip to the part where we are good friends

[aliidarling]

using you

RICK GRIMES X fem!reader

nsfw content — scroll if uncomfortable!!

summary: rick takes his anger out on you after lori's death because he's a self projecting loser and wants u really bad

warnings: p in v, no foreplay, rough sex, pussy slapping, age gap, degradation, mean rick, fingering, anal threats LOL, self projecting rick, old lonely rick, sweetish rick at the end ig

btw thank u everyone for sending me ideas for male manipulator rick pt.2 :) I'm definitely gonna take these into thought and write sum

i wrote this in three sittings like a week apart so some parts might not match up...

nsfw content below!!

Rick hadn’t come up from the basement of the prison in almost two days. No one had seen him, leading everyone to question if he was even alive anymore.

The death of Lori had impacted him. The atmosphere was tense, and not many words had been spoken. No one wanted to go down to comfort Rick, not wanting to get snapped at. Angry Rick was something else.

Hershel was the one who recommended you to go down and talk to Rick. At first, you were against it, because why? Carl was his son, Glenn was the first one he met out of everyone, and Daryl was like his brother. There was no reason why you should. You were just one of the younger girls in the group.

“Because he has a soft spot for you, sweetheart.” Hershel says gently, sighing and rubbing his temple. Your brows furrow as you think about his words.

“What? No— Rick hates me,” You scoff.

Every time you had tried to talk to the man he’d order you around and be cold to you, never letting you breathe without getting a stupid scolding. It was walking on eggshells around him.

“No, no.” He chuckles, brushing his hands through his thin white hair. He sits up. “He cares about you in his own little way, okay? You’re the only one here he wouldn’t hurt. Not that he’d hurt anyone else— but…” He groans. “You know what I mean.” 

You frown at him, picking at your hair. You reluctantly stand up, tossing your jacket on top of your shirt. “If I don’t come back in an hour, you know what happened.” You grumble dramatically.

He rolls his eyes and waves you off, giving you a little grateful smile.

A few minutes later, you were walking down the staircase into the boiler room, a frown painted onto your expression. You could hear angry muttering and the sound of metal clattering.

Just on your way here you had heard him yelling, you didn’t know at who. It worried you, was he already going crazy? Or was someone else down here with him?

As you walk inside the small, dark room, a messy-looking Rick comes into view. His hair was messy, his curls damp with sweat as he grumbled angrily to himself, leaning against a table.

He quickly turns at the sounds of your footsteps, hands on his hips as he narrows his eyes at your figure. What the hell were you doing here? Did no one get the message that he wanted to be left alone?

“What.” He huffs firmly, his body language cold and distant. He was always mean to you, but this just felt different, like he was a ticking time bomb. It made you shudder as you nervously picked at your hair, stepping closer.

“You’ve been down here for a while, Rick. Everyone’s getting worried.” You said softly, looking up at the older man through your lashes. It felt weird to be so nice and caring to him, he had just lost his wife— you felt bad. Horrible, even.

And a part of you made your guilt ten times stronger knowing you were still attracted to him throughout this whole mess. Even though he had pushed you away so many times, called you names, and ordered you around like a child, you felt connected to him. Like you wanted more than a simple friendship.

But the fact he was mourning his wife's death and all you could think was how good he looked with his shirt half-buttoned and his curls messy? God, you were a horrible person.

A dry chuckle leaves him, the sound echoing in the room, making you shiver. His demeaning attitude towards you has you shrinking, wanting the walls around you to swallow you whole as long as that meant you didn’t have to be alone in a room with him.

“So worried they call you down here out of everyone else?” He scoffs.

Ouch.

“I’m just trying to be here for you, you don’t have to be such a jackass.” You sneered at him.

Once the words left your mouth, you felt kinda bad. He was struggling with his wife’s death, and here you were being rude to him.

A small sigh left you as you stepped forward, hesitantly placing your palm on his bicep, trying to give him a little bit of comfort. It was the least you could do, right? You had managed to screw up your entire friendship with this man, but maybe you could turn it around starting… now?

As he feels your touch on his bicep, he turns to you quickly in response— almost as a reflex— and presses you against the table aggressively. A yelp leaves you as you find yourself being cornered by the large man, looking up at him in shock.

Never mind, jeez.

“You wanna be here for me?” He growled, his hand going to hold your throat, not squeezing but keeping it there as a warning not to cross him.

You give him a shaky nod, not knowing what to say or do that wouldn’t cause his temper to blow. It already blew.. But you knew what he was capable of, and you were scared of getting on his bad side more than you already were.

“Use your words.”

“Yeah, I wanna help you.” You press your lips together nervously, giving him a hesitant nod.

His eyes darken, looking you up and down and weighing the options. He hums lowly, his hands slowly wrapping around your waist, his fingertips pressing into your skin through your shirt.

“Huh.” He can’t help but smile at you, but not a sweet one. A mocking grin. You shuddered.

“How about you start off by bending over that desk then? Since you wanna be good for me so badly.” He laughs darkly, flipping you around smoothly and kicking the back of your knee.

You stumble slightly and find yourself bending over the edge of the desk, a huff leaving you as you flinch in surprise. Instinctively, you try and straighten yourself but he keeps one of his hands pressed on your lower back.

“What are you doing? You know this isn’t what I meant—“ You say breathlessly, not having the power to fight back for some odd reason. The position had you tingling between your legs, your stomach in knots and your mouth dry.

You felt ashamed to be so into this. He was coping in an extremely unhealthy manner— but could you even stop him if you tried? Did you want to?

He ignores your words and grasps the back of your jacket, pulling it off and leaving you in your spaghetti-strapped tank top. It was hot in the prison, could you blame yourself for dressing in thinner clothing?

“Always dressed like a fuckin’ slut, begging for attention from me. Think I don’t notice? Hmm? How you’re always nagging me and trying your damnest to spend time with me?” His words leave him harshly as he leans over to push your hair over your shoulder, leaving your back empty for him without any distractions.

“Don’t say that.” You mutter softly, eyes fluttering as you feel his breath brush over your skin. Goosebumps appeared on your smooth skin, lips pressing together to conceal the heavy exhale you wanted to release.

“Why? Because you know I’m right?” He chuckles dryly. His hands rub over your back, grabbing the end of your top and pulling it up to bunch over your chest. Your heart skips a beat and you try to pull away, but he only pulls you closer, pressing his crotch firmly against your butt. He sighs in relief at the friction, grinding subtly.

The next few minutes are him just grinding against you from behind, muttering a mean ‘shut up’ whenever you’d let out a noise. This was for him. He didn’t care about you— didn’t care that he was leaving you needy and aching, all he wanted was to relieve himself.

“Take your pants off.” He grumbles, leaning back just a few inches to unbuckle his belt. He smoothly pulls it out of his jean loops, and then unzips his fly and pulls his jeans down. He’s fast and aggressive, and soon enough his hard cock is pressing against his lower tummy, his tip red and throbbing.

You blink in surprise, but you try and process his words quickly. Okay. He wants your pants off. This was for him to feel better, just take your damn pants off, dumbass. Don’t make his day worse.

Shakily, you pull your pants down to your ankles, your butt in front of him with your panties hugging your curvy hips. He stares down at you, eyes narrowing at the sight of the damp spot on your panties.

“Slut.” He kicks your legs open with his foot before landing a harsh slap against your pussy, making you cry out. Your brows furrow as you try to suppress your noises as he keeps going at it, his rough palm delivers harsh strikes to your sensitive area.

“O-Ow— Rick!” You whine, wiggling your butt as the slaps have you growing more and more wet. This was so embarrassing!

“Had I known you like gettin’ that pussy slapped I would have done it a lot sooner, sweetie.” He coos mockingly, a low snicker leaving his throat. He parts his hand from your panties. His large fingers grasp into your panties and pull them to the side, nudging your legs further apart and aligning himself with you.

“Take a deep breath, baby.” He huffs before thrusting himself inside you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your body tenses immediately, eyes watering at the large stretch your insides felt at the intrusion.

You immediately let out a shaky cry, clawing at the table for something to hold onto as you try and adjust to the feeling. His girth was thick, ripping you apart. The lack of foreplay and prep had you wincing.

“Awww, did I hurt ya’? Poor thing, little hole must burn sooo much.” His words sounded so mean, his dark eyes gazing down at your figure. He scanned each inch of your body. Your arch, your hips, waist, your hair— it all looked so good. He wanted to ruin you.

You struggle to speak as you feel him sit nice and snug inside you, your sight going blurry. You whimper like a pathetic puppy into the desk, the cold steel making you cringe and squirm. If he was gonna force himself in your pussy, couldn’t he of at least done it somewhere more comfy?

“S-Screw you,” You groan lowly, your eyes already rolling back. And he hasn’t even started to move yet.

“Mhmm, s’okay sweet girl, I’ll get there.” He hushed you gently. Your doughy flesh is so soft to his rough palms, making him smile as he grips your waist a little tighter. He uses your waist to hold you down as he starts to slowly pull out, leaving just the tip before slamming himself back inside. Not even a rag in your mouth could stop the moan that leaves you, your body wincing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

The next few minutes are messy and full of whimpering and shushing, your body quivering as he keeps thrusting into your hole like there’s no tomorrow. You were just a stress relief for him at the moment— a pretty face with a tight cunt he could fuck for hours.

Yeah, he was mean to you even before he decided to fuck you in this boiler room, but that was only because he didn’t know how to handle his emotions around you! You were a sweet young girl with a cute face and a good rack of tits, always trying to talk to him when he had a wife and a son, could he even interact with you without getting scolded by Lori?

He let out a shaky grunt as he slams his hips into you over and over again, watching your perfect ass jiggle at the force he put into you. Your noises were perfect, he had spent probably hours imagining how you’d sound with him inside you. He couldn’t count the amount of times he had imagined you while he was in bed with Lori. He was a horrible husband, but he blamed you for it. You were the reason of his lack of loyalty, so he may as well punish you for it. You were pretty much asking for it the second you came downstairs with that pretty face.

“Fuck, fuck,” He groans, bending over to press his chest flush against your back and pressing himself against you. He wanted you to feel every damn inch of him, feel how deep he was inside your dumb little pussy and how he made you feel.

“You feel that? Huh? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am inside that needy pussy? Can feel you squeezing me, sweetheart, must feel so good, right?” He shushes your cries as he manages to push his cock deeper, his fat head brushing against your sweet spot that has you clenching down.

“Mhm, feels so good.” You sniffle. He giggled lowly at how pathetic you sounded, almost feeling the urge to comfort you for a second.

He’s wanted this for so long. Half the reason why he was spiraling after Lori’s death was because of the agonizing guilt he felt for still fantasizing about you when he had a whole newborn waiting for him. But now he had you, and he was not gonna let you go, and even if you begged and cried— he had already sunk his claws(cock) deep inside you.

His hand reaches to the front of your neck to grasp it and pull you tighter against him, giving your neck a little squeeze. He hums in approval at how your body tightens around him, his hips picking up speed.

“Good, good, jus’ like that, good girl,” He mumbled, squeezing his hand around your neck just a tiny bit more, loving the expression that fell over your face. A few more long minutes of him inflicting a fast and rough pace that expresses his self-projecting hatred towards you pass, the both of you out of breath and sweating.

“Can I cum? Please?” You whisper shakily, a soft moan coming from you as his thrusts continue. Your lips quiver and struggle to choke out words as you feel him repeatedly slam into your g-spot, eyes watering from the pleasure and your legs going wobbly.

“Oh, oh please, Rick—!” A loud moan escapes your throat before you have time to hold it back. You had been stripped down to a cheap whore bent over a table, but you didn’t care, it felt so good.

He answers your question by squeezing your throat, reaching forward to rub your clit. You clenching down on him has him groaning and almost stuttering with his thrusts, brows furrowing as he starts to get a little sloppy with his rhythm.

Without wasting any time, you feel yourself cumming hard around his cock and spasming, crying out at the force. A few more tears slip as you whimper onto the table, shaky hands grasping at anything to hold onto it.

A crooked grin paints his face as he gazes down at your shaky figure, slowly pulling out and watching his cum drip out of your leaky hole.

He hums and gently picks you up and sits you down on top of the desk, parting your thighs open and pressing the cum back inside you. Your eyes widen slightly in shock as his large finger shoves itself back inside you, making you cry out at the sensitivity you felt.

“R-Rick,” You attempt to plead before he rudely shushes you, crumbling apart as he fingers you open brutally. More tears stream as he watches with an amused glint, taking in the sight of you crying as he shoves his fingers inside your pussy violently.

“You can take it, shush, be a good girl.” He mumbles, sliding them in and out smoothly without any stop, his other hand going to rub at your spent clit. He almost felt bad for you, but then he remembered you were the little brat making him think like an unloyal husband— and he resumed with his torture.

Once he has you coming apart on his fingers again, he slides them out of you and whistles meanly, smirking at his slick-covered fingers. He maintains eye contact with you as he brings them up to your mouth, tapping them against your lips.

“Please don’t.” You whine, trembling in embarrassment. Could this get any more humiliating?!

“Shut up and be a good fuck toy.” He grunts. You shrivel and slowly part your lips, taking his wet fingers and sucking gently, your eyes fluttering shut as you didn’t want to look him in the eye while doing this.

After cleaning his fingers, he parts from you and gives you a once over, scowling.

“You’re not too bad when you’re not being an annoying fuck, y’know. Maybe you should bend over for me more often.” He sniggers, pulling his jeans back up and buckling his belt back on. He tidies up his appearance and gives you a side-eye.

“I’m so telling Hershel.” You grumble, struggling to pull your pants back on with limping legs. He rolls his eyes and aggressively tugs them back on for you. You flinch at the force and almost stumble onto your ass but you eventually have your clothes back on you because of his help. You give him an awkward smile, and he just glares at you in return.

“…I guess you could say I did help you, right?” You grin sheepishly, before gasping softly as he pulls you in for a kiss. He mutters a small “Shut up,” against your lips before interlocking his with yours, his hands wrapping around your waist and pressing your body flush against his.

He parts slowly from you, a small saliva trail showing before dissolving mid-air. He stares down at you, before nudging you in the direction of the exit.

“Don’t tell anyone about this, kay? You tell a soul and I’ll shove it in your butt next time, brat.” He scoffs, turning away and gazing back at the wall like the depressed old man he is.

You can’t help but smile as you walk away.

Next time, huh?

You were a little delusional, but why the hell not?

[princessfroslass]

The way I am obssesed with Angel's relationship with the girls- and no, I don't mean it on a token gay guy on the gals group™ but rather how he seems to have this- older brother ish sense to him when he is with them.

He is the one that mocks Vaggie even on her lowest point but he was also the one to rush to her side when Charlie and Alastor left- no to mention he was the one leading the other guys to prepare the hotel later on.

He is the one the keep Nifty safe- even though he is extremely weirded out by her antics, and even didn't react with aggression when she was a bout to stab him (that shit wouldn't had flied with any character I tell you lmao) also LOOK HOW CUTE THEY ARE-

He is the one that protected Charlie from HIS abuser, shielding him from his world from day one- and overall just making sure she stayed safe, and away from Val.

And then there is Cherrie- his ride or die he trusts above anyone else. She is the one he rants to about his horrible day at the studio (which is bad enough to make her RUN to the Hotel after 5 months btw, so who knows what the hell was on those textes) tho I am inclined she is the older sibling at the relationship. I dunno she just has that vibe. She protects him alot more than he does her (that is not to say he doesn't protect her- he literally pushed her away from Pen's invention at the Pilot) and I like that, is a little change or dynamic with his other relationships.

I normally don't like to call a platonic relationship "sibling coded" unless is VERY explicitly implied that is the case, but honestly- with Angel I am willing to do an exception, because of this:

Is not far fetched to think Angel might had projected Molly onto his female friends- SPECIALLY Charlie, who was often draw with her on older sketches. Their dad was abusive, their relationship with their brother non-existent (this actually intrigues me alot because I can see Niss having beef with Angel but the fuck did Molly do?) and the mom isn't mentioned yet, so I am willing to think all they had was each other- flash forward to now, with Angel separated from his beloved sister, trapped onto an soul contract with his abusive ex, and meeting a bunch of girls that had reediming qualities- my guy had issues ok let him be.

[happilykrispypirate]

Don't touch her

Pairings: Mattheo Riddle x hufflepuff!reader

Warnings: Swearing, violence, blood, tw! abuse, bullying, and my shitty writing

Summary: Y/n has two older brothers in Ravenclaw. Both are little entitled shits that love treating their sister like shit. When Mattheo finds out when they take it too far... Well, we all know what he'll do.

A/n: @victoriapedroza thank you for requesting! Im sorry if u didn't want me to make the reader a hufflepuff, I just thought it was a good idea. It's not my best, but do let me know what you think of it.

-

Y/n smiled happily as she saw Mattheo waiting for her after class.

"Hi love," Mattheo smiled as Y/n came to a stop in front of him, he pecked her lips before taking her hand in his as they walked down the corridors to the Great Hall for lunch, "How was class?"

"Great! I helped Hagrid with the nifflers and one of the babies gave me a gold coin. Have you ever heard of anything like it? A niffler giving instead of taking something shiny. I feel honoured," Y/n smiled brightly.

Mattheo felt a warm feeling bubbling in his chest as he watched her smile brightly.

"That's amazing, baby," He said kissing the side of her head.

"What's also amazing is that I heard a certain someone won the potions competition again," She smirked as she eyed her boyfriend, "Another vial of liquid luck that is going to collect dust?"

"Why would I need liquid luck if I have my lucky charm right here?" Mattheo smiled as he brought their hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

"You're cute, you know that?" She smiled kissing his cheek, "Oh! I completely forgot I have herbology next. I have to go get my books. I'll see you at lunch. Tell Pansy that she has to finish that story that she told me earlier."

"I will," Mattheo smiled before kissing her, "Now hurry back."

Y/n smiled at him before she hurried towards the hufflepuff common room. When she rounded the corner she bumped straight into someone.

"Watch where you're going!" She looked up and saw Gavin and Phillip, her two older brothers. Phillip was the oldest and Gavin was only a year under him. (Btw, the years might not make sense. However we're here for the story, not math)

"Oh, it's you," Phillip said.

"Sorry, I was in a hurry. I have to get my her-"

"Yeah, we don't care," Gavin said interrupting her.

Y/n stood up and brushed her robes off, "No need to be rude," She mumbled.

"What was that?" Phillip asked harshly.

"Nothing, forget it. I'm going," She said and started to walk off before she was pulled back and pushed up against the wall.

"You've been lucky until now, you little bitch," Phillip spat, "That little boyfriend of yours has always been around. Where's he now, huh?"

"Let me go," Y/n begged, tears threatening to fall.

"Aww is little Y/n going to cry?" Gavin said mockingly.

Phillip then laughed, "I'll give you something to cry about," He said before he threw her on the ground and she landed against one of the pillars. He then proceeded to kick her in the stomach.

She went to grab her wand but Gavin stepped on her wrist. She cried out in pain.

"Don't even think about telling anyone, or you're dead," He spat before the two of them walked away.

Y/n had to move quickly to get to the common room and back to the Great Hall, all the while making sure there was no evidence, just so that Mattheo and the rest don't get suspicious.

"You took a little longer than expected, love," Mattheo said as she plopped down next to him, "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just had to look for it," Y/n said, "Room's a bit of a mess."

"As always," Mattheo said chuckling.

Y/n smiled at her boyfriend and kissed him before pulling away and looking at Pansy who was in front in of her explaining the story she had told earlier. Just behind her, on the other side of the hall sat Gavin and Phillip who were both glaring at her.

She immediately turned away.

-

It was a few days later the bruises on Y/n's hip and wrist got worse and were sore. So, sore that she couldn't move without cringing in pain. Something she had to do internally because she couldn't show it, she didn't want Mattheo or anyone else to find out.

Thank Merlin, it was winter, or they would've gotten suspicious if she wore a long sleeved shirt.

She sat with the rest of the Slytherin gang in the Slytherin common room. She was allowed to be there. She insisted on getting permission instead of sneaking in all the time and risk getting caught and getting detention.

"I'm so ready for the weekend," Enzo said, "I can't wait to get fucked."

"Fucked as in fucked or drunk and high?" Theo asked.

"Both," Enzo said.

"I could do with a drink right now," Pansy said.

"I can help with that," Y/n smirked as she stood up. Mattheo glanced at her confused, and as she stood up her shirt lifted slightly and he could see the big purple bruise.

Y/n then pulled two bottles firewhiskey from her bag.

"Holy fuck," Enzo laughed as he took one of the bottles from her, "Hufflepuff's becoming one of us."

"Shut up, I just thought we needed something to make us feel better," She smiled as she sat back down.

She went to open the bottle but her wrist pained. Mattheo watched as she struggled and saw the bruise.

"Looks like I'm not strong enough, you want to help me babe?" She asked smiling as she held out the bottle to him.

Mattheo took the bottle from her and opened it. Deciding to ask her later and not in front of everyone.

Later then came as Mattheo was walking Y/n back to the hufflepuff common room.

"Love," Mattheo said.

"Yeah?" She replied looking over at him.

"Why are their bruises on your wrist and hip?" He asked.

Y/n's heart began to quicken.

"Uh," She said before laughing nervously, "I was holding a bag that was stacked full of books. I was cleaning my dorm of course and then I bumped into the table. Guess I'm a little fragile."

Mattheo nodded, not believing her. She knew Mattheo didn't believe her, and she was glad he didn't asked anymore questions.

-

Y/n once again forgot her book in her room, and the same thing happened last time. She bumped into her brothers.

This time, she didn't submit to defeat like she has always done. This time, she pulled her wand out.

"Ohh, someone's brave," Gavin said as he pulled his wand out.

Y/n looked around to see if anyone was coming. Why was the hall always empty when she runs into them?

"Just leave me alone," She said as she started to back away.

"How could we? You keep bumping into us. You need to stop running down the halls, forgetting your books," Phillip said.

"We should teach you something about that," Gavin said.

"Like... this!" Phillip then shot a spell at her but she deflected it.

Then Gavin shot a spell and she deflected it.

Soon both started shooting spells trying to disarm her. She couldn't take much because it wasn't long before her wand was thrown to the other side of the corridor.

"Now, you should know not to pull your wand on your older brothers," Phillip said, "Crucio."

Y/n fell to the ground and screamed in pain. Gavin walked up to her and started kicking her. He even threw in a punch. In her face.

"Alright that's enough," Phillip said and all the pain stopped.

Y/n felt like she could breathe again and coughed for air, and there was blood when she coughed.

"Oh that's fucking disgusting," Gavin cringed.

"Come on, let's go before someone comes along," Phillip said before they vanished down the corridor.

That's the last thing she saw before she passed out.

"I wonder what's taking Y/n so long?" Pansy said. Lunch was almost over and Y/n stilled hadn't returned.

"I'm going to go find her," Mattheo said as he stood up.

"See you guys later then," Theo said before Mattheo walked out of the Great Hall.

He rounded the corner and at the end he saw someone lying on the ground.

"Y/n," He realised as he ran over to her. She was beaten up badly. He gently picked her up before running to the Hospital Wing.

-

"Who would do such a thing?" McGonagall asked Dumbledore as they stood in front of the hospital bed that Y/n was laying in. Mattheo sat next to her, he refused to move until she woke up.

"There are many that envy her," Dumbledore said, "But none that would hurt her like this."

"Well obviously someone did, we have to find out who. There is no place for bullying in this school," McGonagall said before they left.

It wasn't long after that, that Y/n opened her eyes.

"Shit," She said as she realised where she was.

Mattheo's eyes shot up, "Hey," He said once he saw she was awake, "I'm here."

Y/n turned her head to him, "Hey," She said.

"Love, who did this to you?" He asked, "Don't lie to me this time. I know when you lie."

Y/n sighed, "Gavin and Phillip," She said, "They've been doing this for years. Gotten worse and worse."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mattheo asked.

"They're my brothers. I'll never escape them," She said.

Mattheo remained silent. He only remained calm for her, but he wasn't going to hold back the next time he sees them.

-

A week later Y/n was healed. Mattheo never left her side.

They were all sitting outside under the big tree in the courtyard. It was a peaceful day.

However that peacefulness didn't last long because Gavin and Phillip arrived.

Mattheo glared at them before he stood up from his where he sat and walked over to them.

"Oh dear," Y/n sighed as she watched Mattheo punch Phillip.

"What the fuck dude?" Gavin said before he himself got punched.

"Don't you ever fucking touch her again," Mattheo said as he kept throwing punches at Gavin. Phillip tried to pull him off but instead got himself landed under Mattheo receiving multiple punches.

"We should probably stop him," Pansy said.

"Nah, this is fun," Y/n said.

"What in Godric's name is going on out here?" McGonagall asked as she rushed outside. Mattheo got up and glared at the two boys whose faces were covered in blood.

"Just making sure these two never hurt touch their sister again," He said.

"They're the ones that hurt her?" McGonagall asked and Mattheo nodded, "I'd like to see you two in my office the second you're out of the hospital wing. You'll also get 3 months of detention. Every day."

McGonagall then turned to Mattheo, "As for you Mr Riddle. Five points will be taken from Slytherin for your act, but 25 points will be rewarded for standing up for your peers," McGonagall gave Y/n a wink before she disappeared with the two bloodied up boys behind her.

Mattheo walked back over and sat down again before pulling Y/n into her arms and kissing the side of her head, "That'll teach them never to touch my girl ever again."

[shapelytimber]

Hooking up and having fun with a cute girl, this definitely will not have consequences :)

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

For the uncensored art, you can either find it on my inprint or bluesky

Process and usual rambling below vvv

Also quick reminder, in sw 1 maul is 22 and obi wan 25 :)

Ok so this fucking drawing beat my ass fkfjckcn it took me a whole week (I usually manage to do a detailed colored illustration like this in 3 or 4 days), and I hated it for 6 of those days. I was kind of art blocked, and I decided to brute force this by hitting my head again the wall that was this fucking drawing until it worked- and it did ! After 2 failed attempts, and immense frustration at every step of the way <3

I find the older obimaul (around 50yo) dynamic much more compelling, because of the whole baggage desperation loneliness it has going for it, but after failing to draw it (this time, I will come back to it one day)- I decided to settle for the second best obimaul dynamic : young strangers hooking up ! No baggage yet, only fun :)

So they are drinking caned bear in a cheap hotel room (I imagine Coruscant having capsule hotels, being an overpopulated city planet ! Even tho I made it way bigger than a regular one-) to escape responsibilities and just enjoy a good time ! There is no chance to develop an unhinged hatred-obssession-love onesided dynamic here haha :)))

The yuri is not yet toxic, but we'll get there

PS : this is t4t btw :) because @quijicroix is a genius and pointed out the potential of the "of course I know him, he is me" line for a trans obi wan <3 you can also thank them for the tasteful Palpatine censoring

PPS : I've never seen the 3d animated clone wars show, this is only based on the movies.

[steviewashere]

I want to write something sort of meta, hear me out on it. Sorry, if this hits too close to home. The idea came to me and I needed to get it out of my system. And...would you look at that, another half-written fic.

Steve ends up getting really into Star Wars after Dustin shows him to it. Like, so much that he gets himself involved with conventions, cosplay, collecting anything and everything he can. He's involved in a fandom space. Learns the world of fan fiction. And let's say that maybe, during his time figuring out where he wants to go with life, he picks up writing fanfic as a hobby.

It encourages him to get an English degree. Encourages him to lean more into that hobby, but then expanding upon it to write original short stories and small novels that go published. But he holds strong to Star Wars and fandom and finding his spot cemented in it. He's been a fan for...nearly forty years at this point (set in 2024, ugh I know).

And maybe he dabbles in online spaces here and there. He ignores the insufferable adults in the Star Wars fandom (the "um, actually..." guys, btw). Indulges the effort of typing out his handwritten fan fiction, ones he used to bring and pass around at conventions, ones he'd let Eddie read with a shy look in his eyes. And he posts them online, has a Tumblr account, maybe does a few short things on Twitter, definitely is on AO3 (albeit newer, having never attempted online fan work before).

But then...then he gets his first little bit of hate. Vicious, gross comments on his work. Sometimes in private messages. Even publicly, once, on Twitter. It irks him. He holds strong, he does. But then it gets worse and worse and somehow, worse. Younger people claiming he's too old, others claiming that he can't write for certain characters because they're out of his age range, that he can't ship certain people, he can't say that a character would do this or that, that Star Wars is media for a younger audience (despite being somebody who saw it "back in the day"). But that he...That he's not supposed to be there.

And that last little comment sticks with him for a long time. It makes his effort and his attention and his love for writing fanworks falter. He stops. Thinks about the characters he loves, of Leia and Han or even Luke and Han or Lando and Han (listen he loves writing Han). But then he wonders if it's even worth it, to indulge this interest anymore. Yeah, maybe he's older than the source material. Sure, maybe he was introduced to it a little later than most, but that doesn't mean he doesn't love it. Yet, his attention towards Star Wars completely falls away.

He stops watching it. His DVDs going dusty and unused. Starts putting away all his action figures, because what if he posts a photo one day and somebody sees them and claims that that's not for him and—

Then, he goes completely offline from fandom. Even if he still gets the emails from users who actually enjoy his stuff, ignoring them completely. Focuses on using the internet for work. For his novels, for the little stories he actually gets paid to write. But his work just isn't the same. The passion, despite being an original story and original source material, is completely dwindled.

His hobby has been stripped from him. His interest has been knocked straight out of his hands. And he just...moves on.

Even if it hurts to go down into the basement of he and Eddie's home, eyes catching on the see-through bins of original action figures, Lego sets, comic books. Even if it makes something strangle in his chest when he opens up the browser on his phone and it immediately opens to a new ship he'd been getting into: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker—because he finally picked up The Mandalorian, because he was finally talked into watching it when he had the free time.

And then it all bursts over when Eddie finally approaches him about it, when they're enjoying a night-in, sitting around lazily on their sofa.

"There's a convention coming into town," he comments, "supposedly, Hayden Christensen is going to be there. We should go, try and meet him."

Steve just grunts in response.

"Oh-kay...or we could just stay home and watch the movie?" Eddie suggests. "Been a while since I've seen Darth on screen, telling Luke about"—

"I don't want to," Steve cuts in quietly, "isn't really my thing anymore."

Silence then follows. For a beat. Then two. A third.

"Not your thing?" Eddie asks him incredulously. "Not too long ago you were raving all about that new show that's coming out! That you saw they were doing lightsaber whips and you were excited to see how they worked! What do you mean it's 'not your thing'?"

Steve shrugs. "Grew out of it or whatever. Got more important things to focus on now." He sniffs, trying to keep himself held together, grumpy and firm in his decision.

Eddie's stare drills into the side of his face. Scalding, just like that lava was in Revenge of The Sith. "Baby," he speaks softly, "did something happen? You haven't even...you don't read your beautiful little stories to me anymore. In fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even seen your lightsabers around here. What's goin' on?"

He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. A ratty plain white t-shirt that he wears now when he's lounging around the house. It used to be one with the Millennium Falcon on it, but that's tucked down far in his dresser. Not for him anymore.

"Steve," Eddie presses, "did something happen?"

His stare stays down at his lap, still fiddling with his shirt. Fingers flexing unfamiliarly in the strings, unlike the loose ones on his Star Wars shirts. "I just"—Steve heaves a deep sigh—"it's time I grow up. It's...not for me anymore. Too old for it now, I guess."

"You guess or you know? Because nobody's too old for anything. Unless, y'know, you're like eighty-nine and in terrible health and trying to hike Everest, then..."

Despite everything, Steve finds himself chuckling. A giddy little sound here and gone in a breath. He shrugs again, albeit smaller this time. Crumbling within himself. Quietly, honestly, he admits, "People were being mean to me about it online. About my writing. That I'm doing it wrong, that I—that I'm too old for it. That I don't belong because of my age." He finally brings himself to look at Eddie, blearily because his eyes are aching and wet. "I got to thinking and I...maybe I've just been too caught up in my own bliss to realize that those people are right. They're right and I shouldn't be into kids stuff anymore."

Eddie makes a soft, sad cooing noise in the back of his throat. "Oh, baby," he breathes. "Baby, those people don't know a single damn thing about your love. But...but I do. I know that you've seen every single Star Wars movie more times than I've probably eaten in my entire life. And what about all those Halloween costumes over the years? I didn't dress up like Leia for nothing, Mr. Solo."

Steve scoffs wetly. Goes to protest, but—

"And...and that handshake! The one with Dustin? You guys have had that for nearly forty fucking years! So, why bother indulging any of these...these hardasses on the internet? Did they sit next to you on the sofa as you fucking curled yourself like a shrimp and wrote every little intricate detail of a kiss between Luke and Han? Have they read your work while you blushed all shy, while you tucked your hair behind your ear and asked for the most earnest of feedback, to make sure you spelt things correctly or put a comma in the right place? These people, did they get to see you blossom and grow like a fucking bushel of roses over your hobby?

"Because I know I did. And even though you were nervous about your words on the paper, you still came to me. You still wrote and wrote and wrote until I had to bully you into breaks, just so you wouldn't ruin your poor wrists. If they had even an ounce of the passion that you do, they could write their own stories. They can make their own endings and make the characters the way they imagine them.

"They choose, instead, to—what—make fun of you because you have a space to express yourself? Because you found passion and turned it into something so beautiful, even I—a dungeon master, someone supposed to be amazing at storytelling—can't put into words? You found a way to do that, Steve. And you do that with kindness. You do it for free, mind you. If their only passion sits within sending you vitriol over people who aren't even remotely close to real, then they're the ones who don't belong.

"If I've learned anything, fandom is a space to share and bounce off each other's words. It's community and it's belonging and it's sharing what you love because you just love it. Fandom isn't bullying. Bullying is just bullying, Steve.

"And everything you've ever done in your life, in regards to fandom and outside of it, is so much better than hate. You may be a nerd or...or a little bit overzealous or whatever, but at least you aren't hateful. I think being hateful, that's worse—don't you think?"

Steve can only stare in response, fast tears down his cheeks, hands shaking in his shirt. Mind reeling. Because, yes, Eddie's right. And he maybe should've talked about it initially, but the hurt festered and festered and tangled and grew until he was nothing but an unhealed scab. And Eddie, he's the antiseptic to his uncovered cuts—the ones deep on his heart, where all his love is—even for things considered mundane, like movies, like TV shows.

"Steve," Eddie carefully murmurs, wrapping Steve's hands with his own, "you don't have to do something right to love it. You don't have to be a certain way to be happy. If Star Wars made you happy, then why give it up?"

He sniffles and chokes back on a sob. Because, again—damnit—Eddie's right. "I miss it," he admits quietly, "all I've done is miss it."

Eddie gives him a small smile. Something achingly soft that reaches deep within Steve. "Then open your arms and welcome it back, baby," he whispers, "even if you can't be online anymore, do it for yourself."

"I...I want to try it again, I'm just...scared. What if people hate it all over again? What if they're just nasty to me and shut me down and push me to the side and"—

"But what if they love it? What if your readers have missed you just as much?"

"You think?" he meekly asks.

Eddie's eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "I know, actually. Your emails keep coming in on the computer's desktop because I keep forgetting to log you out. And, baby, you would not believe how many people have been eager for updates, for your return." His thumbs work into the backs of Steve's hands, warm and sure. "And, if it helps, maybe I can moderate your comments before you look at 'em? I'll read them to myself and if they're mean, I'll delete them."

Steve blows out a breathy little chuckle. "You'll just get mad at them," he gently teases. "But that doesn't sound too bad. Maybe I should try again. Not yet, though. I'm not ready."

"That's okay," Eddie assures, "take things slow. Maybe we start with watching the movies again? Getting your lightsabers back on display?"

"Can we go to the convention, too?"

"We can do whatever you want, Stevie."

For the first time in a long while, Steve finds himself smiling. "I love you," he whispers.

"I know."

[zorobff]

little by little. (opla!sanji x fem!reader)

synopsis: a series of events that transpire throughout your time mentoring sanji into a proper waiter, per zeff’s request.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: cursing, smoking, some direct dialogue from opla, zoro wants u but he can’t have uuu, a pitiful attempt at enemies to lovers, this is the plate technique i was referencing btw

the slicing, stirring, and sizzling of the kitchen fades into background noise compared to the two thick accents bickering back and forth. to no one’s surprise, a disagreement between sanji and zeff’s has escalated into another one of their infamous arguments. it was such a common occurrence that almost everyone working at the baratie knew to brace themselves for a yelling match at least once day.

you’re no different as you return to the kitchen from waiting tables and walk right past the pair without so much as a glance their way. instead, you make a beeline for patty’s cooking station. unamused, you ask, “they’re back at it again?”

patty slings a towel over his shoulder as he hands you table 7’s orders. “i told sanji not to put that original dish of his on the menu. he called it a true bluefin whatever the hell.”

“sounds promising,” you joke, collecting the plates from him.

“tell that to zeff,” he replies flatly. “he might even make it tomorrow’s special.”

“dammit zeff!” sanji exclaims, interrupting you and patty’s conversation. “if i gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, i’m going to drop dead of boredom, you old shitbag!”

“it’s what we serve,” retaliates the older chef.

“it’s an insult to the meat!”

“oh, you don’t like cooking our menu? fine. ‘cause i’ll be more than delighted to give you some other work elsewhere. in fact, you are off the line. you’re going to get out there and wait tables!”

sanji’s jaw clenches at having been demoted but he removes his chef apron regardless. as often as the two of them bickered, he could never refuse such direct orders from zeff. he was the owner and founder of baratie — that was something to be respected.

all of a sudden, zeff calls your name, causing you to abruptly set down the dishes in your hands. what did you have to do with any of this? the older chef beckons you closer with a curled finger and it seems as if every pair of eyes in the kitchen shifts to you. except for sanji’s, who is too busy staring up at the ceiling as if he’s begging a higher power for self-restraint.

it’s ironic how after putting so much effort into being the best waitress possible, you end up in the middle of confrontation – something you went out of your way to avoid. still, your body reacts faster than your brain and you comply, scurrying over to where zeff and sanji stand.

“from here on out, you keep a close eye on him for me.” zeff clasps a large hand on sanji’s shoulder with such force that it sends the younger jolting forward. “i don’t wanna catch him slithering his way back into the kitchen unless it’s to grab orders, ya got it?”

you blink. “yes, chef.”

your response earns you a tight-lipped smile, a rarely seen gesture from zeff. as suddenly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by a hardened gaze as he turns back to sanji. “if we’re lucky enough, some of your obedience might rub off on this little eggplant.”

the comment earns him an eye roll from the waiter in question, who seems less than thrilled with this new arrangement. “this is such bullshit, old man. you really think she can teach me anything?”

you go to defend yourself, slightly offended by his offhand comment. “hey, i—”

before you can get another word out, sanji interjects, offering you a glance. “no offense, i’m sure you’re lovely—” the moment he takes a good look at you, he trails off. it’s almost comical how quickly his demeanor changes, that signature smirk of his creeping onto his lips. “with an even lovelier face to match.”

you narrow your eyes at him, not charmed by the sudden switch in attitude. “you’re shameless.”

he smiles. “so i’ve been told.”

“we’ll need to work on that.”

his grin widens, if that was even possible. “i look forward to it.”

his smile is a little too mischievous for your liking; you sigh. “can’t say the same.”

ignoring your remark, he muses, “you know, it’s a shame that working under you is supposed to be a punishment. a pretty face like yours is more of a reward, if you ask me.”

“who said anything about a punishment?”

“well, what else would you call this?” he chuckles dryly. “instead of cooking, i’m expected to wait on idiots who can’t tell a rosé prosecco from a cheval blanc. and now i’m being treated like i need a babysitter.”

you fold your arms. “that’s because you do need a babysitter. besides, zeff calls the shots so there’s no use complaining.”

“of course you’d say that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

he smirks. “i can already tell you’re a professional rule follower. a lap dog, if you will.”

“if you were too, we wouldn’t even be here.” you decide to take it even further, returning his bluntness. “maybe it’d be easier if that ego of yours wasn’t so inflated.”

“damn.” he places a hand over his heart as if you’ve wounded him. “if we’re talking about flaws, though, this might be a good time to mention the stick up your ass.”

“what? i don’t–” you take a deep breath. “listen, zeff is counting on me to turn you into a functional waiter. that means we have to tolerate each other for the time being. the sooner we do that, the sooner we go our separate ways. got it?”

he flashes you his teeth. “yes, ma’am.”

“great. to start, you’re going to wait tables with me.” with that, you walk back to patty’s station.

sanji scampers behind you, smile fading. “you’re joking.”

you shrug, opting to let your silence answer for you.

he continues, “you’re not even going to let me suffer through this alone? i’ve gotta be glued to your hip as well?”

“what’s the matter? i thought i was lovely,” you tease him, feigning sorrow. your faux pout contradicts the way you harshly shove two steaming plates his way.

“not when you’re bossing me around.” he hesitantly takes the dishes you hand him. “i mean, can’t you just let me off the hook? i’ll hide in the supply closet ‘til our shift’s over.”

“good one.”

WEEK ONE.

“welcome to baratie, i’ll be your waitress this afternoon. what can i get started for you?” you ask, ready to jot down the table’s orders on your notepad. “i recommend today’s special—”

an arm digging into your ribs cuts you off. the action is forceful enough to jolt you but light enough not to hurt. you glare at the culprit, who tilts his head expectantly as if to ask, aren’t you forgetting something?

“oh, how unprofessional of me,” you deadpan. “this is sanji, he’ll be accompanying me. we’re training new hires.”

the smile on his face disappears, clearly insulted at being compared to an inexperienced beginner.

you continue, “as i was saying, today’s special is a beef filet with rice and seaweed soup. it was chosen by chef zeff himself.”

that seems to pique the customers’ interests. who didn’t want to eat a meal that had the chef zeff’s stamp of approval? they enthusiastically agree to add it to their order.

sanji scoffs. “that’s not sayin’ much. zeff wouldn’t know a good meal if it kicked him in the peg leg.”

you find yourself cringing as the patrons’ faces contort into shock at the blatant insult. well, there goes your tip.

chuckling nervously, you attempt to redirect the conversation. “can i, um, get you anything to drink?”

dismissing sanji’s outburst, they opt to look over the various wines the menu has to offer. you allow yourself to tune out their indecisive murmuring for the time being. however, sanji soon breaks the peaceful silence.

“you know what, how about i whip up a dish of my own for you two? ’s called a true bluefin sauté, somethin’ that’ll put today’s special to shame. free of charge, of course—”

“okay, that’s enough,” you intervene in between yet another forced laugh. “could you please excuse us for a moment?”

the guests’ irritated expressions fill you with shame — you were used to smiles and hefty tips but never this. you pull sanji aside, ignoring his complaints about the excessive force you use to do so.

“you need to get it together,” you seethe.

“i’m trying my best,” he replies, though there’s a smug undertone to it. “like you said, i am just a new hire.”

you suppress a sigh. “no new hire would badmouth the owner to customers like that. or offer to make dishes that aren’t—and never will be—on the menu.”

“ouch, that was personal—”

“just let patty know we need two specials. and tell him to make it top priority, we don’t want to piss these people off even more. can you do that, please?”

it was clear you were stressed by the mess he’d created, if your pleading tone was anything to go by. sanji decides to take pity on you. he wordlessly retreats to the kitchen to do what you had asked. no quips, no teasing.

for the first time, he follows your instructions.

WEEK TWO.

it seemed as if everyone in the east blue was set on having their breakfast at the baratie.

the kitchen was bustling, cooks slaving over the stove and waiters twisting past each other to grab orders. among them was you, sweaty and thoroughly overwhelmed. despite the task at hand, you can’t help but question the whereabouts of a certain blonde.

“where’s sanji?” you demand while grabbing more steaming plates.

carne, the chef who’d cooked the meals, answers you. “haven’t seen him all morning.”

you groan, using your sleeve to wipe off the beads of perspiration that form at your hairline before grabbing a bowl of oatmeal and plate of fluffy belgian waffles. you knew sanji still wasn’t happy about being a waiter (and he took every chance to show it) but that didn’t matter; it was all hands on deck this morning.

you continue expertly stacking the dishes into your arms and hands. it was a technique you’d learned over the years and now it felt like second nature. soon enough, you’re balancing plates up to your forearms. you’re just about to head back out to the dining hall when you hear a familiar accent behind you.

“we doin’ party tricks now or what?”

startled, you turn around so fast it causes the dishware in your hold to teeter ever so slightly. there stands sanji, clearly finding amusement in how you’re up to your elbows in breakfast foods.

“maybe don’t sneak up on me when i’m holding six plates?” you chastise him.

he chuckles. “sorry, sorry. what did i miss?”

“only the worst breakfast rush i’ve ever seen. where have you been?”

“i was takin’ a smoke outside.”

“productive.” your tone drips with sarcasm. “we’ll talk about punctuality later, for now just take the rest of those plates for me.”

sanji reluctantly obeys, grabbing two plates from the multitude of options and steps back, ready to follow you. you look at him in what could only be described as utter disbelief. he returns the stare and furrows his eyebrows as if he really can’t understand what he’s doing wrong.

“you’re seriously only taking two?” you ask.

“yeah? what, were you expecting me to join your balancing act?”

“it would help!”

“trust me, i’d only make a bigger mess.”

“sanji.”

“fine! show me.”

you squint your eyes at him in irritation. “my hands are a little full right now.”

he purses his lips. “then just tell me how.”

you comply. “get your first plate, put it between your thumb and the edge of your pointer finger. make sure to rotate it away from your body.”

sanji follows your directions, attentively. he glances up at you once he completes the first couple steps, scanning your face for any disapproval. you give him a nod.

“so far so good. next, put your second plate under the first. use your remaining fingers to support it– yeah, just like that. and let the edge of the plate rest on the bottom of the first.”

as sanji carefully carries out your instructions, you notice the determination written on his face. you’d never seen him put so much effort in a task, much less one you’d given him. you could tell it was challenging, judging by the way his hands wobble with uncertainty as he stacks the plates, but not once does he stop. it’s admirable. you feel a smile form on your face.

“okay, what n— what’re you laughin’ at?”

“i’m not laughing,” you defend. “it’s just– you’re really trying. it’s nice. i like this sanji.”

he opens his mouth as if to respond but decides not to at the last moment. there’s a brief silence before he raises his eyebrows to signal he was ready for the next step.

“right. um, the third plate uses your arm and the edge of the second plate as balance points so you’re gonna wanna put it– yeah, right there.”

you take in the sight of all three plates successfully resting on sanji’s arm as one of his trademark grins appears on his lips. clearly he’s proud of himself but as his wide eyes meet yours, you can’t help but feel as if he’s seeking your approval too. you notice that when he glances up at you, there’s an eager look in his eyes as if he’s hanging on to your every breath. you figure it’s normal for someone to want their mentor’s praise, right?

you willingly deliver the encouragement. “you’re a natural. better than me.”

his reply comes so quickly it almost seems as if he’s said it without thinking. “well, that’s not possible, is it?”

his tone sounds warm; sincere. not to mention, this is the first time sanji has complimented your skills as a waitress. you’d received countless praises for your work ethic but somehow, something so simple from someone like sanji makes this different. special, in a way.

“let’s get to the table, food’s gonna get cold,” you say so that you don’t spend too much time replaying his words in your mind.

the journey to said table proves to be more arduous than you’d think. you offer quiet ‘excuse me’s that can hardly be heard over the commotion of the kitchen as your coworkers try their best to make way for you and sanji. some of their eyes linger on the plates that masterfully balance on both your arms but truthfully, the sight of sanji exerting so much effort into waiting tables is more impressive to them. it’s distracting enough to send one of them to colliding straight into you.

your first instinct is to try and salvage as many dishes as possible but it’s useless when the impact is so strong that it sends you stumbling backwards. the only reason you don’t fall over is the firm chest that presses against your back and the two pairs of strong arms that find their way around your waist. the ear-splitting sound of yours and sanji’s plates shattering against the floor is unpleasant and yet all you can think about is how sanji literally dropped everything to catch you.

the waiter you’d crashed into groans, looking down at the mess of broken dishware and food gone to waste. “god, look where you’re going if you’re gonna carry all those plates.”

“i’m sorry,” you instantly apologize, flustered by the rare mistake. “i was just trying to get ahead of the rush–”

“instead, you set us back further.” his eyes flit down to his shirt and then yours. “and ruined both our uniforms.”

the abruptness of your mishap (and your skinship with sanji) had robbed all your attention, causing you to overlook the various creams and sauces that now bleed into your shirt.

“watch it,” sanji warns him, finding the man’s aggressive tone intolerable. “if you worked half as hard as she is then maybe there wouldn’t be such a need to catch up on orders.”

your coworker fixes sanji with a glare for intervening. “i’m not talking to you, pal.”

“well, i’m talking to you. and i’m thinkin’ of taking this discussion outside if you don’t apologize for being a jackass.”

that earns him an irritated sigh. however, he complies. “i’m sorry. can i get back to work now?”

sanji remains unimpressed. “don’t apologize to me. apologize to her.”

he doesn’t even try to hide his eye roll before he gives you a lackadaisical apology. “i’m sorry, alright? tell your boyfriend to back off.”

he stomps away, leaving you even more rattled up by his last comment. slowly, you turn around to sanji, unsure of what to say. you take in the stains that litter his suit, though he seems unbothered by it. his stare is heated as he watches the man leave. however, when he notices you staring, his gaze softens.

“what was his problem?” he asks you with a chuckle that sounds out of place in a moment like this.

in any other situation you’d poke fun at sanji for also having gotten worked up but you choose not to. him getting so angry on your behalf felt… strange. not unwelcome, though.

your reply is simple. “y-yeah. real asshole.”

he lifts a brow. “you okay?”

you nod a little too hard. “i’m just not used to situations like that. thanks for stepping in. and, you know, catching me.”

sanji glances away when your look of pure gratitude becomes too much for him to handle. “i couldn’t have you eat shit and be out of commission, zeff just might decide to mentor me himself. and no one wants that, right?”

you can’t help but laugh at the dismissive demeanor he was putting on when he’d literally just threatened a man for you. “right.”

he clears his throat. “let’s go get cleaned up then.”

“sorry,” you blurt. “about your suit, i mean. it’s all dirty now.”

he shakes his head. “wasn’t your fault. if anything, i should go force an apology out of that jerk.”

“well, while you do that i’m gonna clean this mess up.”

“no need.” he shoots you a sly wink. “i’ll make him do that too.”

WEEK THREE.

you find yourself clearing off an empty table on a somewhat slow thursday afternoon when the baratie’s newest guests catch your eye. they look nothing like the stuffy moneybags that frequented the establishment – far from it. in fact, you find yourself having to do a double take when you notice that one of them is wearing overalls. it’s refreshing, you think, occasionally glancing up at them as they settle in.

when you head back to the kitchen to grab menus, you bump into sanji, who’d arrived from his break.

you glance at the clock on the wall. “was that actually only ten minutes? i’m impressed.”

sanji exhales as he does every time he feels sheepish about following the rules. “don’t get used to it.”

you disregard his comment and instead hand him a couple menus. “come on, we’ve got a table.”

he frowns. “i just got back.”

“you’ll live. i think it’ll be a interesting one.”

that was an understatement.

“welcome to baratie. my name is sanji. what can i get for you?”

sanji’s customer service voice never fails to amuse you. it sounds too forced, too sharp; as if he’s just dying to spew a one-liner or two. you have to admit, though, he’d done pretty well ever since you started letting him take the lead. there was a clear improvement from when you’d first started, a little over two weeks ago.

“one of everything!” the one with the straw hat enthusiastically exclaims.

another, more feminine, voice joins the conversation. “maybe save that for after we find the one piece.”

there’s a brief pause before sanji speaks again, this time in a tone you know all too well. “didn’t see you there, madam. would you care for an aperitif to start? we have several rare micqueot vintages in stock. or perhaps you’d like a glass of umeshu? you know, something sweet for someone sweet.” he ends with a wink.

she cringes. “is there something wrong with your eye?”

you can hear sanji’s smile in his reply. “just blinded by your beauty.”

out of all of sanji’s antics, this somehow feels like the worst one yet. you’re not entirely sure why him blatantly flirting with the woman feels so unbearable but you decide to chalk it up to your professionalism. if any of your fellow waiters flirted with a customer you’d be just as upset… right?

“zeff told me he doesn’t like you terrorizing the female patrons with your flirting so why don’t you knock it off?” you tell sanji, your words carrying an unusual edge to them. “you’re one shitty pick-up line away from a restraining order.”

although you mumble the last part, both sanji and the table seem to pick up on it. your bitterness earns you a surprised tilt of the head from the blonde; it wasn’t like you to have such outbursts, especially not in front of guests.

“relax,” he says, still taken aback. “it’s called working the table. you should try it sometime ‘cause that attitude isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

a monotonous voice cuts through the tension. “so about those drinks...”

you and sanji pause your discussion to get a look at the face behind the remark. lidded eyes that appear to be permanently hazy return your stare, through lashes so long you can’t help but admire them. the man who they belong to is comfortably splayed out on his side of the booth, calmly observing the two of you. though, it seems like you’ve caught his attention more than anything else. though his gaze seems uninterested, he still effectively studies every inch of you.

sanji seems to pick up the stranger’s staring problem too. he sharply inquires, “is there something on her face?”

the man turns to him once he’s finished sizing you up. “i’m just an observant guy.”

“observe the menu instead, hm?” suddenly, sanji’s tone sounds a lot like yours; irritated and displeased.

“no need.” the green-haired swordsman turns to you. “a beer, please.”

you hold the male’s gaze for a second before nodding. apparently, the eye contact is too prolonged for sanji’s taste because he cuts in, attempting to move things along.

“what about you, madam? anything i can get for you?” you notice he’s using that voice again.

her answer is plain. “water.”

somehow, he manages to complicate it. “still, sparkling, mineral? with ice or without? cubed or crushed?”

“regular water in a regular glass. thanks.”

he beams. “right away.”

“and what about the rest of you?” you ask to impede sanji from asking the woman any more questions.

“two beers,” the one with dark skin says. “i usually have three but–”

“and a milk!” the straw hat adds.

“got it. anything else before we go get those drinks for you?”

a raspy voice speaks up. “do waiters usually come in pairs here?”

you shake your head. “this is a temporary arrangement. he just needed some extra training.”

“that depends on who you ask,” sanji clarifies before narrowing his eyes at the man on the left of the booth. “why do you care anyway, mosshead?”

before you can scold sanji for giving customers rude nicknames, the customer in question swiftly corrects him. “the name’s zoro. i was just curious as to why such a good waiter would be partnered with someone so… incompetent.”

“curious?” scoffs the woman to his left. “since when are you ever curious? about anything other than alcohol, that is.”

“certain things catch my attention once in a while, nami,” he replies, nonchalantly. though he mentions his colleague by name, it’s clear he’s really speaking to you. “it’s just not often that my standards can be met. but when they are, i’m left with no choice but to show a little interest.”

your head tilts at the double meaning his comment carried. though you admire zoro’s ability to be a smooth-talker, you find that that’s where his appeal ends for you.

“high standards, hm? then you’re dining at the wrong place,” spits sanji in an attempt to get zoro’s attention off of you. “only thing that isn’t shitty is the drinks which we’ll be getting for you now, if you’ll excuse us.”

sanji hooks an arm around your shoulder before he spins on his heel and leads you both back to the kitchen. you look over your shoulder, offering the table one of your customer service smiles as an apology for your abrupt exit. sanji’s strides are long and purposeful; he’s angry, you realize. although, you can’t blame him for having such a sour attitude when you yourself aren’t too thrilled either.

you don’t speak to each other for the rest of the shift.

“you smiled at him.”

you sigh, setting your book face down to glare at sanji who stands in the doorway of the quaint breakroom. “i’m on my break, sanji.”

“so am i,” he retaliates, pulling a stick out of the worn-down cigarette box in his pocket as if to prove it to you.

“so it’s not enough that i’m stuck babysitting you when we’re on the clock? you’re gonna start seeking me out in our free time too?”

he purses his lips. “pretty much.”

his stubbornness is unsurprising but you just aren’t in the mood to tolerate it today, not when he’d worked your nerves earlier with his flirtatious behavior. deep down, you know you only have yourself to blame for getting so unreasonably angered by that. maybe that’s what upsets you most.

you sigh. “just tell me what you want.”

“i want to know why you smiled at that asshole.”

“asshole?” you repeat, laughing. “i know you have a potty mouth but god, take it easy.”

he licks his lips. “see, now you’re defending him. what for? do you know him or something?”

“do i have to?”

“no, but... it would be nice if you did. it would help me understand why he was talkin’ to you like that. all flirty but secretive at the same time. it was like you two had some sort of inside joke.”

“so a man being interested in me is so unfathomable to you that i have to know him or else it’s a joke?” you ask, tone heated.

“no, that’s not–” he groans. “i didn’t mean it like that.”

“what about you and that girl? nami, was it?” you sneer. “if zoro’s considered flirty then i don’t think there’s a word for what you are.”

“you’re mad at me for trying to earn a tip?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you. “you told me to be nicer to customers. i was being nice.”

“you were really selling it,” you scoff.

“don’t believe me?” sanji challenges you. “have you ever seen me flirt with a girl that’s not a customer? a girl that’s not you?”

the words tumble out of his mouth haphazardly, as if they’d been weighing heavy on his mind for a while now. as an attempt to recover — an attempt to make it seem like that admission didn’t mean something, he calmly lights the end of his cigarette. he then brings it to his chapped lips and takes a long drag.

you take the moment to really think about what he’d said. sanji was charming by nature and, of course, he knew that. not only that, but he used it to his advantage. people tended to tip better when he was laying it on thick, that much was true.

however, his second question takes a lot more thought. now that you really think about it, you realize he’s right. you’d never seen sanji flirt with another waiter or member of the staff. you were the only waitress he spoke to that way. the realization makes you feel warm in the face.

“i don’t just flirt with you, you know. i do so much more. remember that plate trick you taught me? i practiced for nights on end ‘til i could do it with my eyes closed. and i don’t tell customers how brainless they sound half the time because i know you don’t like it.”

you only watch as he paces back and forth, rattling off these thoughts that have clearly been plaguing him.

“you still never flirt back, though,” he continues, quietly. “lately i’ve been starting to think that you don’t actually like me at all. that’s the only reason i was being like that at the table. i knew i was only kiddin’ myself but still, i wanted to see if there was a small chance you cared.”

“i…” it’s all you can say. seeing this raw, insecure side of him has left you truly speechless.

he fiddles his cig between his fingers. “listen, i wouldn’t blame you if—”

you finally find your voice. “i like you.”

his voice trails off, engrossed in every word you speak. it’s a simple three words and yet he’s attentive as he waits for more to be said.

you begin to ramble, “i like your passion for the things you care about. i like how you always say what you think. i like that you always have my back. sanji, i… really do like you.”

he gives you a weak smile. “that’s nice, sweetheart, but i don’t think you like me the way i like you.”

“just because i don’t flirt much doesn’t mean i can’t have feelings for you, idiot.”

his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, processing your words. “you— feelings?” there’s a pause. “good ones, right?”

you can’t help but giggle. “yes, good ones. sure as hell not the ones from three weeks ago.”

he joins you with a laugh of his own, which sounds wobblier than usual. he pulls out a chair next to you, as if this moment has left him so shaken up that he needs to sit down. “who would’ve thought? god, i… i can’t believe it.”

“i’ve never heard you stutter so much,” you tell him, tucking a thin strand of blonde hair behind his ear. when your fingers graze against the skin, it’s warm to the touch. cute, you think.

“i just never expected you to give me a chance.”

“a chance? to do what, exactly?” you prod.

he straightens up. “to make you mine.”

your breath hitches in your throat. “sanji—”

“i’m not going to ask anything of you just yet. i think we should take our time. i want to show you that i can be exclusively devoted to you before we go any further. it’s only fair.”

your heart thumps wildly in your chest at the sincerity behind his words. “you’re willing to wait just to prove yourself to me?”

he nods, taking one of your hands and squeezing it. his dedication required no words.

“so that means no more flirting with the female patrons? even when i’m not there beside you?”

he shrugs as if it’s common sense. “if there’s no pretty waitress i want to make jealous then i don’t see a need to flirt.”

you nudge his shoulder. “and what about your tips?”

“small price to pay.”

satisfied with his answers, you lean in and give him a quick kiss on the cheek; it feels giddy and spontaneous. sanji’s palm instinctively comes up to rest on the spot where your lips had been. he grins before attempting to speak—

a thick, husky accent shakes the walls. what makes it more terrifying is that it’s calling both yours and sanji’s names.

“break time’s over! get your asses back out there and wait some tables, now!”

[ham1lton]

my favourite interviewer.

pairings: lando norris x fellow driver’s sister/reader

warnings: jokes about adoption. mentions of bigotry but in reference to o/s’s experiences.

summary: the one where you interview your sister and your boyfriend. also part of the nepo!sister universe.

author’s note: i love nepo!sis/y/n. expect to see her more. also these interviews are quite short so imagine they’re longer and these are snippets. y/n is a better interviewer than i made her out to be 😔💔

————————————————————————

liked by vogue, yourusername and 1,827,668 others.

oldersister: check out my photoshoot for vogue! and my following interview with my younger sister yourusername. it was definitely… interesting. link in bio <3.

view all comments

user1: my favourite sisters made another appearance again!!

yourusername: DON’T! work with o/s! such a DIVA! rude as hell…..

-> oldersister: is this because i said pink wasn’t your colour?

-> yourusername: ALL COLOURS ARE MY COLOUR !! 😡

user2: y/n is so funny throughout this entire interview. a natural comedian.

user5: o/s saying that people don’t take her seriously as a driver is crazy!! she’s a two time champion!! what more does she need to do?

-> user6: it’s nothing that she needs to do. there really isn’t anything she can do to change their minds. it’s bigotry.

user3: o/s is so pretty. full time f1 driver and part-time model.

-> user4: one thing about her, lewis and zhou is that they’re all gonna serve looks and face. holy trinity.

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liked by yourusername, gq and 1,223,378 others.

landonorris: thank u gq for letting me cover ur magazine and thank u to my gorgeous interviewer for taking the time out of her day to interview me. btw… are you single 😍

view all comments

user5: this was so cute!! i love their dynamic.

yourusername: no i’m not single. i have a bf. be professional please.

-> landonorris: ain’t nobody care about him queen. i bet you i could beat his ass 😍

-> user1: i wish i had this confidence.

-> landonorris: leave me alone 😭😭🖕🏼

-> user2: poor lando. getting dragged by his fans, his girlfriend, his girlfriend’s fans and his girlfriend’s sister’s fans😭😭 rip bro 💔😔

-> yourusername: he’s fine y’all. please don’t call paw patrol.

user3: lando saying y/n was his favourite person regardless of what she does 🥺🥺

-> user4: when he cussed out y/n for calling herself boring 😭 he said that’s my gf don’t be disrespectful.

user7: y/n finessing a free lunch and dinner out of her boyfriend and her sister was my favourite part. yass queen 😍 take from the rich.

*liked by yourusername*

————————————————————————

MY NIGHT WITH O/S L/N.

by y/n l/n.

It’s the end of O/S’s Vogue’s shoot. She’s dressed in a black form-fitting silk suit with a pair of pale pink heels. I always knew that my sister was famous but seeing her in the middle of such magnitude truly reinforces that she is not just my older sister anymore. She’s bigger than that. We decide to duck behind the busy shoot into a side room to start our interview.

THURSDAY, PARIS, 11:34PM.

Y/N: Did you expect that I’d be the one interviewing you?

O/S L/N: Honestly? No! I’m happy though to see a familiar face. Pleasant surprise.

Y/N: I’m not gonna hold back on the questions though just because you’re my sister. I need you to know that.

O/S: Wouldn’t expect you to.

Y/N: Just for the record, she’s wearing my lipstick. I told her she’d look cute in it and she refused to listen to me.

O/S: I didn’t expect it to look so cute on me. I don’t wear super bright lipsticks, it’s a orangey-red shade for the people who can’t see it. I got the makeup team to source it for me and tried it on and perhaps… you were right. It’s grown on me.

Y/N: I’m always right.

O/S: Always is an understatement but … you have your moments.

Y/N: So, what would you say it’s like being the only female F1 driver?

O/S: A very unique position to be in. I’m lucky to have such a good support system in place. Y’know? Mom, Dad, my team and you.

Y/N: It’s a lot of pressure isn’t it?

O/S: Yes. As any high profile job is.

Y/N: How do you find the pressure when it comes to being a role model for younger girls?

O/S: It’s a responsibility I take very seriously. I think it’s so important to encourage young children, especially girls, to follow their dreams and help to provide avenues to make them accessible. I would love to see younger generations of drivers that come from a diverse array of backgrounds be in Formula One.

Y/N: Remember when you were younger and you’d go go-karting?

O/S: Yes.

Y/N: Dad would always make me come and watch you. It was so boring but he’d always get us ice cream afterwards if you’d won. That’s why I always rooted for you.

O/S: Says it all really.

Y/N: I was always a tennis fan. Maybe a little basketball or football. Dad used to joke that maybe you were the adopted one because no one else in the family knew about motorsports before you.

O/S: He still does! I found out about F1 at my school library at the age of like nine and begged Dad to take me. I’m very lucky that not only did we have the funds at the time but parents that supported us. He used to drive me everywhere. He still does drive me to the Grand Prix sometimes.

Y/N: Funny how little traditions stick with us, huh? Remember when you started making real money and would take us out for dinner after every win?

O/S: I was so excited that I had the money to treat you all.

Y/N: Definitely. What was the biggest challenge you’ve faced so far in your career?

O/S: It’ll sound trivial but… probably being taken seriously.

Y/N: What do you mean by that?

O/S: As a lot of women in male-dominated spaces might face, it’s hard to overcome the biases against my abilities. People said for a long time that I was only here because of diversity quotas.

Y/N: Even when you won?

O/S: Especially when I won. I like to prove people wrong. I’ve spent my whole career doing just that. I just wish it wasn’t so constant and tiring. I’m just doing my job but because of my womanhood and my blackness, it is immediately viewed as political. Overcoming the preconceptions has become a huge part of my journey.

Y/N: That’s annoying as fuck. I’ve seen it first hand too. You’re an incredible driver. I know I joke around with you and take the piss out of you but genuinely you do inspire me. I might not be racing cars anytime soon but I’ll always be your biggest fan.

O/S: Thanks Y/N. That means so much to me.

Y/N: Now onto the juicier stories. Who are you dating? For the readers who mightn’t know your personal life, I’ll spell it oit for them.

O/S: Oh No…

Y/N: You started off by dating your childhood sweetheart, Clark Jones, and then dated actor Paul Elordi.

O/S: I did. I am single now, as you’re aware.

Y/N: And she won’t let me set her up with anyone!

O/S: Just because you’re happy in monogamous bliss doesn’t mean the rest of us wanna be.

Y/N: Thanks for letting me interview you today O/S, it was definitely the best part of my day.

O/S: You were very good. I enjoyed the questions. Five stars.

Y/N: Wanna go out to eat? Your treat.

O/S: Of course, let me change into something more comfortable. These heels are gorgeous but they are killing me.

END OF INTERVIEW.

————————————————————————

MY MORNING WITH LANDO NORRIS.

by y/n l/n.

TUESDAY, LONDON, 10:34AM.

I was told to pretend to be professional and that I didn’t spend the night with my boyfriend so I left the room at around 7am just so that I could knock on the door again later in my interviewer mode. It’s the night after his photoshoot for an energy drink. Lando opens the door in a plain black tee, a hoodie wrapped around his waist and tracksuit bottoms. He isn’t wearing shoes. He lets me in and I sit on the sofa. We start the interview.

Y/N: Good Morning. Should we start the interview?

LANDO NORRIS: I’m ready whenever you are.

Y/N: I told O/S this but just because we know each other, don’t expect me to hold back on the questions. Don’t expect any special treatment just because I am your girlfriend.

LANDO: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Y/N: Alright, let’s get started. How did you feel about yesterday’s photoshoot?

LANDO: Tried something new and I think it turned out well. Got some cool shots. The energy was great and the team was incredible. It was a fun shoot. Couldn’t complain.

Y/N: Do you think you’re a better racer or model?

LANDO: I’d like to say model but I’d have to say racer.

Y/N: I think you could be a model.

LANDO: Even though you’re biased. I’ll accept that.

Y/N: Not biased at all actually. I’m here as Interviewer Y/N, not as your girlfriend Y/N.

LANDO: Wait. Can I flirt with Interviewer Y/N?

Y/N: No.

LANDO: Boooo!

Y/N: Let’s switch gears, what do you like to do when you’re unwinding?

LANDO: Well, Usually I’d say spending time with you but you’re not my girlfriend soo… I’m going to say streaming with my friends and playing video games. Also watching my girlfriend’s favourite reality shows.

Y/N: You’re a Teen Mom UK fan? And a Real Housewives fan? I thought you didn’t to like them.

LANDO: It’s part of the boyfriend playbook. Pretend you’re bored with those sorts of shows but secretly, you’re incredibly into it. I have to keep up with your interests somehow and I picked the most interesting ones.

Y/N: I don’t blame you. Alright, one more question before I go back to being boring girlfriend Y/N and I have to give back this super cool voice recorder.

LANDO: Girlfriend Y/N isn’t boring to me. She’s actually my favourite person. Don’t talk shit about my girl.

Y/N: Fine. She’s not boring. She’s just less of a technophile.

LANDO: I’ll accept that.

Y/N: My last question is what’s your favourite thing about driving for Formula One?

LANDO: Besides the thrill of racing? And the part where I’m living my childhood dream? Definitely the fans. Their support and energy help fuel me on the track. Plus, I get to travel the world while doing what I love. I think that’s the ideal world for a lot of people. I’m very lucky.

Y/N: I couldn’t agree more. Thank you for letting me ask you those questions. Now, time for me to go back to the girlfriend version of me.

LANDO: Don’t sell yourself short. You’re always my favourite person regardless of what version you are.

Y/N: Flattery will get you everywhere, won’t it?

LANDO: Hey! It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.

Y/N: Guess you’re not just a pretty face huh. Don’t worry, I’ll keep our reality television show marathons a secret between me, you and all the millions of GQ magazine readers.

LANDO: You’re an angel. Lunch?

Y/N: Only if you’re paying.

LANDO: Always.

END OF INTERVIEW.

————————————————————————

[chrissdollie]

Dad Bakugo x mom reader - I need more children in my life 😭✋🏾

def calls his kid "squirt" and "buddy"

in mY universe, he has a boy and a girl bc he needs the best of both worlds

CALLS YOU "MA" GOODNIGHT

we all know he wakes up really early, earlier than you even, so he's the one to check on the babies/kids every morning to see if they're ok :)

definitely keeps schedules of you and your kids days like exams, report cards, if they're going to a friend's house, etc

yk how most kids tend to be like "ewwww" whenever their parents kiss?? not ur kids nono. first of all, your son is the quieter one. not that he's not talkative, he just has a little bit of a hard time expressing himself. anyhow, his sister is very loud. but either way, they both think its sweet. your daughter even said something like "i hope my husband kisses me like that" once (when she was an older kid tho lol)

your son goes to talk to you a lot. he adores you so so much. but one day when he wanted to hang out with you, you weren't home. you were busy running errands while katsuki was at home watching tv. your son started crying and katsuki was like wtf?? eventually, your son grew accustomed to speaking to katsuki. as he got older, he actually talked to him more than you.

teaches your son how to be a man :,) katsuki knew he was bitchy in his younger years and he didn't want either of his kids to be like him. he taught them both manners and how to properly have a conversation.

little pitter patter of their feet ran into your guys' shared bedroom on christmas morning and began jumping your bed. katsuki groaned and rubbed his eyes aggressively. "it's christmas, mommy!" your little boy shouted. "wake up daddy!!" your daughter shouted in his ear. "alright alright you rugrats"

at your daughter's kindergarten graduation (idk if everyone had this but i did lmao), katsuki was tearing up and although he tried to hide it, he had to remain the strong one while comforting you while you bawled your eyes out.

p.s your daughter is the oldest

when she brought home her first boyfriend... ooo chile

i see a lot of people writing how katsuki would act up but tbh in his older years, i think he'd be a lot more mature. he'd greet the dude politely and treat him like he would any of her friends

btw lemme just say: your daughter is a mommy AND daddy's girl. she loves u both insanely

honestly while eating dinner with the boyfriend or something, katsuki would be very blunt and not pay too much mind to him LMAOO he'd be like "'tis is great, doll" as if you don't cook dinner every week and it's only when your daughter brings up how he wants to work at katsuki's angency, where he perks up

"oh shit, no kiddin'?" and you smack his arm lightly.

well this changes everything! he practically gave the kid his blessing. "welcome to the family son"

your son doesn't really care about them together, he just doesn't wanna see his big sis get hurt. lets say that your son is 15 and your daughter is 17. "so, bf/n. have you fucked her?"

you almost spit out your drink like a cartoon. your daughter is shook, katsuki's rage from UA is all coming back to him, and the boyf is scared for his life

you, katsuki, and your daughter have a little talk after dinner

"use condoms" kats stated. "i- WH- nono you can have sex next year." you corrected but ur daughter is like huh?? "wha why next year?" you scoff. "because you'll be a legal adult thats why." "no offense, momma, but that's really dumb. when did you and dad start having sex?" she folded her arms. katsuki shrugged. "like i said, use condoms."

you and your daughter gossip like crazy alr?? ur like the gilmore girls except you're married and didn't get pregnant at 16 (almost)

and this is nothing new to katsuki, he's heard u guys gossip trillions of times. but when he found out you guys talked abouy HIM TOO??

he busts into the room. your daughter squeals and runs behind you. "hi honeyy-" he shushes you, "you guys talkin' shit 'bout me?" "nope" you guys say in unison. "there's this other guy, uh.."

[liulith]

We as a fandom need to open our hearts to the insane comedic potential of Sir Pentious being included as a background character in stories taking place in the "old days" before Vox and Alastor's falling out. AND the comedic potential of one-sided Sir Pentious -> Vox.

Why?

Canon!Sir Pentious is attached to his era's aesthetics but he also wants to be "hip and cool" (see pilot episode; Sir Pentious as the how do you do fellow kids meme) and join the "Almighty Vees". When did he start wanting that? He's not a media demon trying to keep up with his audience and be a likeable public figure. He's a mechanic trying to conquer Hell by force thanks to his machines and obviously relishes in acting like a villain (fear me! I'm so evil! I'm the architect of destruction! etc. etc).

This is very different from the Vees' approach - maintaining a perfect public image, insidious manipulation tactics... Vox threatens Alastor in the show, but the Vees clearly haven't built their power through turf wars, which is and has always been Pentious' one and only strategy. All the machines we've seen him make are war weapons (+ the Egg Boyz who do his bidding, and help him operate those very weapons). Voxtek probably sells weaponry too but that is more Camilla's domain, so it would be more logical for Pentious to try and join her.

Pentious' and the Vees agenda and interests aren't aligned, so why is Pentious so desperate to join the Vees?

there are many reasons why Pentious could want to be part of the Vees besides the one I'm gonna talk about but you know what MY agenda is:

Vox is Pentious' idol. Pentious is an inventor, an innovator. He would have loved waking up in Hell with a mechanical body he can upgrade however he wants and finds the whole concept fascinating.

He's not against new technology, as his creations clearly go beyond what people could have had invented in his time despite their "steampunk" aesthetic (see: the effing death ray). So I think his current "limitations" are more a matter of him having to stick with what he knows best because it's hard to keep up with the constant stream of new tech. This is why he's more than impressed with Vox's extraordinary ability to adapt to change and master new technologies again and again. He's a fellow innovator! That's one reason for Pentious to be obsessed with the guy.

And if you think obsessed isn't the right word, think about this: Sir Pentious repeatedly challenges Alastor to fights even though he's clearly outmatched and it's an incredible risk to take considering what Alastor does. Pentious is OLDER than Alastor, he was there when he broadcast the most powerful Overlords' scream all over Hell. Plus, losing always leaves him in a very vulnerable position (without his best weapons). Is it madness? Hubris? An obsession for Alastor? No!

Sir Pentious to Alastor: Silence! Now Cower! For when I've slain you, the Almighty Vees will finally acknowledge me!

Sir Pentious thinks defeating Alastor is the only way the Vees will finally acknowledge him. No matter how dangerous it is, he has to try, for the Vees (Vox). Just like he took the risk of angering the Princess of Hell to get in Vox's good graces. This says a lot, for someone as paranoid as him, who doesn't trust anyone who is "too nice" to him.

If Hazbin had more episodes there should have been one about Pentious struggling with the fact he disappointed his idol and told to KHS 👀

(btw this is old news but we know that one of the Hazbin episodes that Viv originally pitched was about a science contest organized by Voxtek in which Pentious and Baxter competed against each other! Pentious could have done that after ep2!)

Anyway, back to the comedic potential of it all & Vox's arrival in Hell. Can you imagine his reaction as a newly fallen Sinner, when he's hanging out with Alastor (aka following him like a lost puppy?) and he meets Sir Pentious for the first time? Like sure, Hell is full of insane people but Alastor obviously has a Reputation and no one ever challenges him. And suddenly... Hm... Alastor?? There's an airship with a giant cannon pointed right as us?? Firing a DEATH RAY?!

It's also so funny to imagine Sir Pentious being obsessed with Alastor and considering him his archnemesis back in the day, only to slowly become obsessed with Vox instead and only caring about defeating Alastor because he thinks Vox will like it. It starts with Sir Pentious trying to "gather intel" on Alastor's new "ally", spying on them or sending his Egg Boyz to do so (and we already know great he is at spying so you can guess how that goes lol), and the rest is history.

Alastor loves attention so he probably let Pentious spy on him behind bushes from time to time if only because it's very entertaining to watch him try to be discrete and make his shadow tap on his shoulder. How hilarious would it be if Alastor noticed Sir Pentious' growing crush on Vox but not Vox's crush on him? Also, Vox misunderstanding Pentious and Alastor's relationship and thinking Pentious is a weird obsessive ex... The world is a stage and the stage is a world of entertainment!

[msgexymunson]

Sammy's Mom

Description: Eddie Munson finds it difficult to get over his fantasies about you, his best friend's mom. He tries so hard to keep it in check. The only problem? Sammy's mom has got it going on.

A/N: kind of a little nod to the song "Stacey's Mom" (which is 20 years old now BTW, so if you remember it it's time to take aspirin for your back pain), I've written too much older Eddie in my time so trying to balance it out, as I've given him far too much rizz! And his friend is called Sammy as I've watched a lot of Supernatural recently. Please comment and reblog if you enjoy this my sweethearts.

Warnings: where do I start lmao, NSFW, Minors DNI or I'll slap you with a wet fish, age gap, Eddie's 21, reader is early 40s, MILF reader, reader referred to as 'Mrs F' a few times no first name given, perv Eddie, voyeurism, male masturbation, very slight foot fetish (nothing actually happens), oral both male and female receiving, p in v unprotected sex, slight anal play, cum eating.

10.5k words

Masterlist 

"UNCLE EDDIE!!" 

Johnny's little six year old voice rings out like a bell in the front yard. You look out the window and see him running as fast as his little legs could carry him towards a young man getting out of a beat up van. 

"Hey Squirt!" Crouching to his knees, he accepts your kids embrace, then stands with him, swinging him around in the air as Johnny shrieks uncontrollably, unbridled joy brimming from his chest. The next minute he's got Johnny on his shoulders, walking around the house to the back yard. 

You smile at their antics, warmed at the gesture. Eddie has always been good with your youngest son when he comes to visit Sammy, your oldest. It was nice, him having another man around to look up to, even if he really needs to remember to watch his language. 

Voices sound from the back yard; Eddie had found Sammy and as usual, they were loud and laughing. Not that you minded at all, any laughter those kids could get was music to your ears. 

You grab your sunglasses and perch them on top of your head, searching around for your gardening tools. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and you wanted to be near the kids at least. Grasping your pruners and gardening gloves in one hand and a cooler in the other, you make your way to the rear of the house. 

Pushing the back door open with a hip, you see Sammy is already in the pool. Johnny is still talking a mile a minute at Eddie, as he sits on the edge of a lawn chair. 

Well, he's certainly grown up. 

Eddie's shirtless, sitting there in his long black swimming trunks. There's a new tattoo on his ribs but you can't make it out from this distance. He's looking toned; his jaw is sharper, with shoulders broader than you remember. He's become a man. 

When the hell did that happen? 

Shaking your head out of your temporary revelry, you walk over to the pair of them. The snippets of conversation you overhear as you approach widen the smile on your face. 

"So, you think of any new monsters for me big guy?" 

Johnny beams at Eddie with pride. "Yeah! So right, it's like, a big bat thing right? With metal bits all over, and- and- then it's got these huuuuge teeth, and- and- when he opens its mouth the teeth fly out, right, and turn into bats!!" 

He starts excitedly flapping his arms around and screeching as Eddie laughs and ruffles his hair.

"Bats huh? That's sick. Pretty metal, squirt. Have to add that to the campaign." 

Johnny beams at the praise, staring down at his hand, trying to work out his fingers, then flashes the devil horn hand at him triumphantly. 

"Johnny honey, do you want to play in the pool? Give Uncle Eddie a chance to breathe?" 

"Yeah! Can I do cannonballs? Can I can I can I?" 

His enthusiasm always brings a smile to your face. "Sure thing honey, just don't go in the deep end, 'K?" 

"Kay!" He flashes a thousand watt smile at you and runs off, calling to his brother. 

Your gaze returns to Eddie, who you are sure was just checking you out. His eyes flick to yours almost guiltily. 

"Brought some beers out for you both. Here." Passing him the cooler, your hands brush briefly, the slight touch running a shiver down your spine despite the heat. 

"Thanks Mrs F." 

Eddie licks his lips and you trace the movement with your eyes.

"Mom! What are you wearing?" 

Sammy has exited the pool, dripping water everywhere. You look down at your outfit. You were wearing a two piece, slightly skimpier than your usual swimwear, and a pair of jean hotpants. 

"Sammy love, it's hot. I'm in my backyard. What am I supposed to do? Dress like a nun?" 

Eddie snorts a laugh next to you. 

"But you're all… exposed mom." 

"Sammy, shut up. Your mom can wear what she wants." 

"Yeah? You're only saying that because you-"

But you're destined to never hear the end of that sentence as Eddie pushes him into the pool. Water splashes everywhere, and Eddie laughs, throwing his head back. The gesture has you staring yet again, looking at the skin on his neck, the way his Adam's apple bobs. A mad idea enters your head; what if you just darted your tongue out and licked over it? Decorated that delicate skin with kisses? Nipped at the sides of his throat with your teeth?

Eddie makes eye contact with you then, and you quickly look away. He was sure you were eyeing him up, almost certain of it. Hell, he's been staring at you for years, mapping your curves with his eyes, knowing he'll never get a chance to feel them under his hands, but the look you just gave him made his stomach twist.

Before your thoughts can go any further you tear yourself away and over to the rose bushes. You deadhead the rose bush as if your life depends on it, furiously snipping and cutting, as if you're trying to trim back the impure thoughts you're having. 

After a while, the bushes are looking a lot neater. Stepping back, you remove your gardening gloves and swipe the sweat beads on your brow with the back of your hand. 

"Mrs F, you wanna beer?" 

You turn to see Eddie laying on a sun lounger, waving a cold one. As you walk towards him he stands up to hand it to you. 

"That a new tattoo Eddie?" You ask, pointing to his abdomen. He looks taken aback by your question but responds nonetheless. 

"Yeah, you like it?" 

Your hand drifts towards him almost instinctively, only realising when his muscles tense under your soft touch. It's a scorpion, surrounded in a wreath of flames. Tracing it with your fingers, you circle it slowly. Eddie can feel his heart pounding in his chest. A slow moan escapes Eddie's lips which pulls you out of wherever the hell you were heading. The heat must have gotten to your head. Pulling back your fingers, you respond.

"Yeah, I like it. Metal." 

Looking up around him through your lashes, your eyes meet his. He looks flushed, cheeks heating at your stare. 

"You OK Eddie?" 

"Y-yeah, fine. I'm gonna have a dip in the pool." 

He shuffles awkwardly off, nearly bent double. All his strange stance does is draw attention to the tent in his swimming trunks that has appeared. It's really rather large; to your amazement, you can't seem to take your eyes off it. Eddie dives into the pool, swimming over to your son. 

Did I just do that? 

You shake your head, banishing thoughts of Eddie's package, and head off to the kitchen to clean some dishes. 

As Eddie rushes into the pool, he's wishing the cool water would shrink the raging hard on he just got. 

Fuck, you look so good today. That skimpy bikini top barely covering the curves of your tits; them damn near spilling out of the top. Those tiny shorts, framing your hips and ass perfectly. Then you had to go and touch him. That had him nearly busting in his pants. He can't help but wonder if it was on purpose. A crazy thought he shouldn't be entertaining. 

He dips his head under the water trying to cool the blood that had rushed to his cheeks. 

You had to be at least 40. Sammy's Dad had been out of the picture for a while, he knew that much. He couldn't help but wonder if you were a little lonely; maybe that's why you had been flirting with him. Or it was entirely Eddie's imagination and he just needs to jerk off and get it out of his system. 

As he gets out of the water, shaking his hair like a dog, he thinks he sees you looking at him through the kitchen window, but he can't be sure. 

"Dude, why have you got a boner?" Sammy points at him from the water, forcing Eddie to cup his erection, trying to hide it from prying eyes. 

"I can't help it!" He whisper shouts, cheeks flushing anew, "your mom's hot!" 

"Eddie! Don't say that, that's gross!" Sammy slings back, pulling a disgusted face.

"Hey it's not, she's a total fox, what can I do, it's like, biological, she's a babe!" 

Little did he know you can hear every word, pressing your lips together firmly to suppress a laugh as you dry up a cup in the kitchen. 

"She's like, really old, and she's my mom for God's sake!" 

"Hey, rude, she's not that old. You think she's into younger guys?" You can hear the smile in his voice, he's clearly just trying to wind Sammy up now, but your thighs clench together at the thought. The cup in your hands is dry as a bone right now. 

"Eddie shut the f-" 

"What's a boner?" The little voice is clear and loud, cutting through the argument. 

A loud laugh shoots from your chest uncontrollably. You try to mask it with your hand but there's nothing you can do, it's out there now. 

Eddie's head whips around to face the house, flicking water droplets in its wake. 

"Oh shit." It's low, but loud enough to hear. 

Making your way back outside, you call out to Johnny to save either of them answering the awkward question.

"Come on kid, you want a snack?" 

"Yeah mommy! Shit!" Eddie's mouth drops open. 

"What did I say about copying Eddie" you ask sternly. 

He parrots back in a sing-song voice, "don't copy Eddie, Eddie is dirty." 

"That's right. Come on, inside." He runs past you in the way only a child can, feet flat on the floor slapping on the concrete.

Eddie steps a little closer to you.

"I'm so sorry Mrs F it won't-" 

"Hey, it's OK," you reply, stepping to meet him. You drop your voice lower, hand up as if you're telling a secret. On autopilot, Eddie leans towards you to hear your whisper, close enough to smell your shampoo. 

"Sometimes mommy's dirty too." 

Turning on your heel, you walk back into the house without a glance, leaving Eddie with his jaw on the floor.

Where the hell did that come from?

You try to steady your breathing as you go inside. That was reckless of you, he's half your age. You admonish yourself, telling your brain that you need to stop flirting with the poor boy. 

Eddie's frozen on the spot. It's clear you overheard their little conversation, and then you come out with something like that? It's definitely not his imagination at this point. For a crazy moment he thinks he might actually have a shot at you. 

Stop it. She's Sammy's mother for Christ's sake. Pull yourself together Munson. 

"Imma take a quick shower if that's alright and get, er, changed. You wanna work on the campaign some more?" Eddie says it over his shoulder to Sammy, not daring to turn. He's never been so hard in all his life. 

"Sure, just stay out of my mom's room." 

Eddie laughs nervously, "who do you think I am?" As he walks to the house. 

"Eddie fuckin' Munson." Sammy mutters under his breath. 

As he stumbles into the house with his bundle of clothes over his crotch, he catches another glimpse of you, on your hands and knees searching in a cupboard. 

"Honey, I don't think we've got any animal crackers left." You say over your shoulder to a pouting Johnny. 

You're barely contained in your jean hot pants, the denim tight against your perfect ass. 

"Fuckin' hell" Eddie mutters under his breath, tearing his eyes away to make his way upstairs. 

He practically runs up the stairs, tripping slightly on the last step. Flinging his body into the bathroom, he shuts and locks the door. 

Five seconds later he's in the shower with his hand wrapped around his slippery cock, tugging on it as if it were his last day on earth. 

Fuck, why does she have to be so fine? 

He's whimpering and stifling breathy moans as he cums hard in less than five minutes. Shame snags its sneaky claws into his heart then, as he hangs his head under the shower head. He needs to get it together before the thought of you ruins him completely. 

********************

Knocking on your eldest son's door, he calls out for you to enter. Both him and Eddie are sitting on the bed, a pile of books and notes between them. You do your best to ignore the smoky weed smell as you address him.

"Sammy, I'm heading out, you still OK to take care of Johnny?" 

"Woah, Mrs F you look h-" Sammy elbows him in the ribs before he can finish the sentence, "-very nice." Eddie finishes lamely. 

A smile spreads over your face at his words. Your date tonight was nothing special, not really, but the need growing between your legs needed to be sorted out somehow. So, you'd dressed to impress; a red figure hugging dress, ending just at the knee, with matching slingbacks. Your hair was down, hanging past your shoulders in soft curls. 

"Mom, I'm going to Tiffany's, to stay over, remember?" Sammy responds, raising his eyebrows meaningfully at you.

"That was tonight?" Well, fuck. "Your grandma's coming to pick Johnny up at 9, can't you stay until then? 

"I can watch him." 

You both turn to look at Eddie. He looks just as surprised as you two at his words.

"I can watch him, no problem. I ain't got anywhere to be tonight."

Eddie doesn't know why he offered. Well, in part he did. He might get to see you again in that dress later. 

"Thanks Eddie, you're a lifesaver. I can pay-" 

"Oh no, don't worry about it." He flashes a grin which does something to your insides, melting them just a little.

"Thank you, I really appreciate it. Johnny's downstairs watching TV, he's had dinner, just need to wait for my mom to pick him up. You sure it's OK?" 

"Of course, it's no problem." 

"OK, well make yourself at home." You give him a winning smile of your own which makes his face flush red. 

"Oh, and Sammy?" 

"Yeah mom?" 

"Use protection." 

"Mom!" 

You laugh and shut the door, heading off to your date. 

********************

The date was a total bust, not that you'd expected anything less. Greg from accounting was nice, sure; kind of handsome, in a middle aged balding kind of way. A reliable sort of guy. Then, when the dinner was over and he kissed you, you knew there was no way it was going to go any further. So, you'd refused his invitation to go to a bar, made your excuses and got a cab home. 

Standing outside your house, you look at the time. 9:30. Rock and roll. You huff into the humid night air at how old you must seem right now, and open your front door. 

"Eddie!" 

Sprawled on the sofa, manspreading, sits Eddie. A beer rests on the coffee table, and the TV is blaring out some horror film. 

He scrambles to his feet looking like he's about to be told off. 

"Mrs F, sorry, erm, your mom's not here yet, she called saying she was running late-" 

As if on cue, there's a knock at the door. You open it, and see your mom standing there, pushing past you in a cloud of perfume. 

"Hey love, so sorry I'm late!" She looks at you, then Eddie. "Is this your date?" 

Blushing a furious red, you shake your head. 

"Oh, no this is Sammy's friend, he was watching Johnny for a bit." 

"Oh, the young man I spoke to on the phone. Shame, he's very handsome." She winks at you. 

"Mom!" 

Eddie looks like he's about to die from blood loss; his face is so drained it's ghostly white. 

"I-I'll go get squirt," he stumbles out awkwardly. 

"Mom, please behave." You whisper when he's left the room.

"I'm behaving! I thought you were on a date, what happened?" 

"He wasn't my type." 

"Well, you should find someone who is. How long has it been?" 

You run your hand through your hair, feeling a little more confrontational than usual due to the alcohol in your veins. 

"Mom, just drop it. I'm fine!" 

"OK, OK! That babysitter is a fine looking young man-" 

"Mom!" 

"Mommy!" You turn just in time for Johnny to grab your legs in a hard hug, squishy cheek pushing against your thigh. 

"We went on an adventure! I'm a Knight, I saved the lady! There was gobbins and stuff!" His little eyes shine, staring at Eddie in pure adoration. 

"Really? Well done! Sounds amazing love. Go on, go with nanna. I love you." 

"OK! Love you mom! Bye Uncle Eddie!" He runs over to him and grabs his legs fiercely. Eddie ruffles his hair in response.

"Night squirt. Or should I say Sir Johnny the Just?" 

"Yeah! Imma hero!" He beams and runs off to grasp your mother's hand, regaling her of his adventures. 

"I'll see you later mom," you say, passing her Johnny's overnight bag by the door. 

As the door shuts, the only sounds are coming from the gristly movie on the TV until Eddie switches it off. Silence. 

"Mrs F, I only opened the beer after I put him to bed, I swear-" 

"Hey, it's fine, don't worry. Thanks for staying longer, I appreciate it." 

"Oh, it's fine. My trailers empty anyway, and you have cable." He smiles sheepishly at you. 

"I told you, make yourself at home. Finish your beer." 

Shoes are kicked off to join the jumble at the front door, and you rub some life back into your aching heels. Eddie's staring at your feet and he can't figure out why. He's never had a thing for feet, but yours? Yours he'd happily have running over his body, in his mouth, on his cock. He's almost ashamed at how just the slightest bit of your flesh on show has him practically drooling. 

You're oblivious to Eddie's perverse thoughts however. Tonight was not what you wanted, and it makes you huff aloud at the thought. 

"You alright Mrs F?" Eddie asks, concern in his voice as he sits back down on the couch, trying his hardest not to stare at your cleavage. 

"Yeah I'm-" why are you lying? "no, actually I'm not. Not the night I was expecting." When you flash a weak smile at Eddie, it's not returned. He looks worried almost. 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

It's sweet of him to ask, and you're about to brush it off but he just looks so invested in your welfare that it takes you aback briefly. 

"Sure. Hang on a minute." You pad barefoot to the kitchen and grab a beer, returning to the living room to sit on the couch beside him. 

Eddie is trying to tell himself he's just being nice. It's not just an excuse to stay. It's difficult to believe his own thoughts however when your dress is riding up your thigh like that.

The very air between you both seems thick and laced with unanswered questions, tension real and palpable. 

"So, Sir Johnny the Just?" You ask, to try and clear the closing space. 

"Yeah," Eddie grins, face lighting up at the mention of your boy, "I gave him the name. Made a little one shot for him, you know, fought some goblins, saved a damsel in distress. He's got a knack for D&D." 

Your eyes glisten at that.

"Thanks, he really looks up to you. It's nice, him having some guys around." 

"Can I ask, what happened to… Mr F?" He knows he's crossing a line here, but he's so curious, and Sammy never talks about it. 

"He left me. I was pregnant with Johnny, and he met some blonde twig, had an affair." 

"Oh, I'm so fuckin' sorry." 

You shrug. It's trauma, yes, but it's passed. A wound that has long since closed over the years, scarring but healing. You sip your beer and ask a line crossing question of your own.

"So, no girlfriend then? Since you're free on a Saturday night?" 

You're not sure where that came from, but it's been asked now. A bubble of nerves pops when you ask it, showering you in drops of second guesses. 

"N-no, well I mean, yeah I've had like, girlfriends in the past but no, I'm single. As a pringle." 

What was that about? Smooth Munson. 

You just laugh as he visibly cringes at his own words. 

"Pringles aren't single, they fit together. They come in a tube." You add, mock helpfully. 

You both chuckle then, diffusing some of the awkwardness between you. He knocks your knee with his. You reciprocate, and look up into those soulful puppy dog eyes of his. 

Eddie's arm lays on the back of the couch behind you, and he's painfully aware of that fact. He wants to drop it to your shoulder, to run circles on your exposed skin and give you that smile, the smile he's given to a dozen girls. But you aren't a girl. You're a woman. The thought is making him more nervous than a virgin on prom night. 

Coughing the thought away, he asks you about tonight. 

"So, what happened on your date? I thought you'd be out later." 

"So did I." You slug some more beer back to calm yourself, and continue, "he was a nice guy. Opened doors, paid for dinner. Then he kissed me." 

Eddie attempted to ignore the burning jealousy in his gut. 

"Oh yeah? Sounds awful.' 

Laughing, you reach and stroke his side for a minute. Your hand lingers, feeling down to his hip. Eddie's heart is pounding in his throat. To his amazement, you leave it there, absentmindedly running fingers over his t-shirt. 

'Yeah, torture," you quip, "it was the kiss." 

Suddenly, you're moving your hand, much to Eddie's dismay, and turning to face him on the couch. He does the same, noticing that his arm is now so close to your head he can feel a slight tickle from your hair. 

"Can I be honest with you?" 

"Sure," Eddie tries to say coolly, to act like his entire insides aren't on fire because of the eye contact you're giving him. 

"It's, er, been a while. A very long while." Your eyes dip down, unsure why the hell you're telling Eddie this, but something about him is making you want to be open when usually you're a closed book. 

Eddie swallows thickly. He knows exactly what you're getting at. On instinct his thumb is rubbing the back of your head, over the soft curls. You don't seem to mind, better yet, your shoulders drop some tension, letting go just a little. 

Still looking down, you say "I can usually tell what someone's going to be like, in bed, from a kiss. Never been wrong yet," you laugh a little, "and he felt, well, dull, and kinda selfish." 

Grabbing your beer for something to distract you from the ache in your core, you drink some more, nearly finishing it. 

As you place it back down on the coffee table, you glance at Eddie's lap. He's fumbling with his rings, spinning one with his thumb as he shifts in his seat. There's an unmissable bulge in the front of his jeans; they're so tight you can see the outline of it. Of him. 

Glancing up at his face when you feel brave enough, it's beetroot red, but his eyes look dark, hungry almost. 

"Well, th-that's a cool superpower to have," he laughs out nervously. 

"I suppose it is" You smile. 

Eddie's trying so hard to control himself. The devil on his shoulder is pulling at his hair and yelling in his ear to make a move. 

This isn't right though, it's Sammy's mom for fucks sake. 

That's when you put your hand on his knee, touching that bare patch of skin where his jeans are frayed. Your touch is delicate, almost hesitant, and it destroys any resolve Eddie had. His hand is shaking slightly as he puts his fingers over yours. 

The touch is warming and electric, fanning the flames of the blazing fire in your stomach. As your eyes meet, Eddie's confidence grows. He can see that you want this, but someone needs to make the first move, and he would kick himself if he missed out because he didn't have the balls to make it.

"You know sweetheart," he begins, as you take a sharp breath at the nickname, he's never called you anything other than Mrs F before that, "you can't just say you have a superpower like that and not show me." 

There's nerves in his voice, but also a cheeky smile playing on his lips. To his amazement you blush, mouth curving into a smile of your own. 

"Listen, Eddie, you're a very sweet boy-" 

"-man," He interjects, "I'm 21." 

Chuckling, you reply, "OK, a very sweet young man, but I don't think that's a good idea." 

It's true, you don't. It's a very bad idea, but it's one you can't get out of your head, your eyes drawn to the curve of his jaw, his stubble, those plush lips of his. Wetting your lips impulsively, you nibble at the bottom one which sends Eddie's head into a dizzying whirlwind. 

"I just wanna know if I'm good in the sack, think it's only fair if you can tell me, it's just a kiss." 

Luck being pushed as far as it can go and then a little further, he daringly places a hand on your cheek. 

He is right, it's only a kiss. 

You say it in your head as if you're trying to convince yourself of the lie. By the time you realise how weak of an argument it is, you're already leaning forward, eyes unmistakably drawn to his lips. 

Eddie leans in, breath fanning your face. 

"Don't you want to… satisfy your curiosity?" 

It's bold, he knows, but you're the one who leans in further.

Eddie doesn't think twice, not when your eyes are hooded like that and your lips are forming a sultry pout. He presses his lips to yours softly at first, feeling the plush of them melt against his, his hand winding into your hair. 

You don't stop him, or pull back. His lips on yours are disarming, taking away your bite. The kiss is gentle, and you dissolve into it, moving your lips against his with a passion you can't remember ever feeling. 

Eddie's trying really hard not to just stick his tongue down your throat and feel you up, but he needs to prove something. He might not ever get a chance ever again, so he takes it slow. Opening his mouth, his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, begging. Not only do you let him, you return his tongue with a lick of your own, running it over his lip in turn. Tongues stroke into each other's mouths sensually; you feel as if you have something to prove. Like he's the one who will be judging you and not the other way around.

He tastes intoxicating; you can't put your finger on why, it's beer, and cigarettes, and something else that's drawing you in. It's just pure Eddie. His smell too, leather, smoke and Old Spice;  it's filling you up from the inside out, making your head spin. 

Eddie's obsessed. Your touch, your scent, your taste. He could kiss you forever; he could kiss you until he dies, suffocated by your mouth, your passion. This feels like some sort of fever dream and he never wants to wake up.

Your fingers are touching cotton fabric before you even understand that you've got a fistful of his shirt, pulling him in further. He responds by dropping his hand to your neck, thumb rubbing intoxicating patterns on your pulse point. 

When you're feeling on the brink of being entirely consumed by his kiss, he's the one to pull away. It's a little sneaky, he knows that, but he wants the upper hand and thinks he won't get it ever again. Eddie can't believe his luck when he sees your eyes still closed, lips chasing his touch, with a ball of his shirt in your hands. 

As your eyes flutter open, you look up at him. A self satisfied smirk is smeared across his face and you can't help but think he's won this round of whatever the hell you're playing. Playing with fire it feels like. 

A moment too late and you remember your hand bunched into his clothes. You unhand him and slap his knee, fingers unwilling to pull away. 

"So, what's the verdict sweetheart?" Eddie asks. His fingers are still massaging at your neck, rubbing back and forth, sending tingles down your spine. 

"What?" You ask, mind well and truly blank. 

"Guessing that's good." He laughs, taking his hand away to take a sip of his beer. "Remember your superpower, Wonder Woman?" 

"Oh, yeah. It was… good." You shrug, picking up the last of your beer and downing it. 

"Good? Good?! Come on, you gotta give me more than that!" He huffs dramatically, slamming his beer bottle on the table. 

Laughing aloud, you turn and face him again. He really is beautiful. His hair framing his face, that triumphant smile on his lips, laughter lines creasing in his day old stubble. You can almost believe he's older than he is, but knowing what you know about his family, he's been through a lot. 

"OK, it was the best kiss I've had in a while. A very long time." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

It's quiet for a moment; a loaded kind of quiet. It hangs heavily in the air like a thunderstorm. 

"Well, how about you?" You ask. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You know what I mean!" You laugh, nudging him with your foot.

"It was… good." He says, mimicking your words. Then he takes in your face, drinking in your beauty with his eyes, until he can't hold back anymore, "alright, it was mind blowing, you're really fuckin' hot." 

"Yeah, for my age" You scoff at his response, disbelieving him even after that kiss. You hear it alot, ever since you passed 35. 'You look good for your age', the backhanded compliment that feels like a knife in the chest. 

"That's bullshit!" Eddie responds loudly, shaking you out of your head and into the here and now, "you're fucking hot, period. Nothing to do with age sweetheart." 

If his words are lies, the bulge in his pants sure isn't. You feel drunk, and not from the alcohol. Eddie's kiss had you feeling reckless. Naughty. Young. 

"I overheard your little conversation earlier," you admit, scooching closer to him on the couch. Faces an inch apart, Eddie's torn between pouncing or running. So are you. 

"Yeah, you weren't supposed to hear that. Kinda glad you did." 

That makes you braver. All thought has gone, and the pounding need in between your legs has you losing all inhibitions as you lean towards his neck.

"Do you want me, Eddie?" You purr into his ear, nipping at the lobe with your teeth. 

"Uh, like, yeah. Yes, o-of course" He replies shakily, hand restless against your thigh. 

"You're trembling Eddie" it's your turn to smirk, lips dragging against his throat, "you've been with a woman before, right?" You know he has, but you can't help teasing him a little. 

Yes, a dozen, but none like you. 

"Y-yeah, I'm not a virgin, if th-that's what you're asking." 

Get it the fuck together Munson. 

"Then why are you nervous?" 

"Girls don't make me nervous. You make me nervous" He laughs, with absolute honesty in his words. 

With a flick of your eyes to his lips, you cradle his jaw. Eddie can't wait a second longer, he's about to burst. He takes a breath, grabs you by the hip, and presses a hard kiss to your mouth. 

The first one was a test, an examination. This one is pure desire, neediness etched into the marrow of his bones. Yet you're the one to deepen the kiss, mouth opening up to him, your tongue running over his with fervour. Lust is rolling off the pair of you, filling the room with its sultry fog.

Impatience gets the best of him, he needs you closer, so he yanks you into his lap, hands grabbing hard to your hips. Gasping into his mouth at the sudden dominance, you let him lead. His kiss is burning you, hot and heavy. Your hips start grinding into his lap of their own accord, each movement inching your dress higher and higher. 

Eddie rolls it up and over your ass so your red lace panties are on display, dress bunching at your waist. His hands are all over you, feeling at your thighs, your hips, your ass, kneading at the dough of your flesh desperately. 

Each grope, each bruising squeeze of his fingertips has you panting in his mouth, your hands winding into his loose locks, tugging. 

The kisses are becoming sloppier, allegedly immovable lipstick starting to smear on Eddie's face. You're biting at his bottom lip, grinding hard against his clothed dick; Eddie feels like he's died and gone to heaven. 

He tugs at your dress urgently, coaxing you to wriggle it up your frame and fling it away. 

The sight of you in your matching bra and panty set is enough to stop him in his tracks. It's gorgeous satin and lace, one of many you have. Even Eddie can see this is expensive. He runs his hands up and down your sides, drinking it in as if it were his last day on Earth. 

You allow him the few moments he takes to worship you with his eyes. If anything you're enjoying it as much as he is, his hungry stare fuelling your ego. 

"See something you like?" You tease, fingernails dragging across his neck. 

"Fuck yeah" comes his breathy response, pulling down a cup of your bra roughly, his mouth finding your nipple and sucking. 

Throwing your head back, you let out an unadulterated moan. You grab the hem of his shirt and tug it upwards. He gets the message, wrestling it off of his toned frame and throwing it away as if he's exasperated with clothes. Relishing in this new uncharted territory, your hands run all over his skin, tracing tattoos and freckles, fingernails leaving evidence of your desire. 

"Sorry, I just need to-" instead of telling you, he shows you, standing up with you grasped firmly at the hips. You think for a moment that he's going to take you upstairs, but he's pressing you down gently to the floor, lips and tongue tasting your neck, playfully licking over your collarbone. 

Eddie needs to know what your pussy tastes like; he's been dreaming of this for as long as he can remember. The thought of you unravelling because of him has him twitching in his pants. 

So, he makes his way down your torso, mapping your skin with his tongue. You're just so reactive; each time he laps and sucks at you a breathy gasp comes spilling from perfect painted lips.  

It's driving you crazy, his mouth is setting each patch of skin aflame, burning with passion. You're surprised by his movements as his mouth trails lower and lower. It looks like he's taking every enjoyment in tasting you, and the way he wiggles to get between your spread legs makes you realise he's going to go down on you. That is what's so surprising; you've never had a man who did that without some serious coaxing, let alone one who seemed to really want to. 

Now you're not self conscious by any means; you've grown to be very comfortable with your body, the feeling just comes with age. You can't help but be a little worried however, when Eddie reaches the stretch marks on your tummy. Little lightning strikes, lighter than the rest of your skin. You're not embarrassed, those little marks on your stomach and thighs are signs of your two beautiful boys. What's troubling you is the fact that Eddie can't have possibly seen any before, at least like this. What if they disgust him? 

It seems you needn't have worried. Eddie's in awe, running his fingers over the soft skin of the scars. He plants a kiss over the top and watches your muscles tense up. 

It's not that he likes them, or dislikes them for that matter; it's the fact that they are real. You're real, and in front of him in your underwear, and they ground him to the fact that this is actually happening. 

Reaching the hem of your panties he's torn between taking them off or not; you're just so damn pretty in them. He settles for running his tongue along the seam making you moan. You, Sammy's mom, moaning underneath him. He'd pinch himself if he didn't think it would spoil the mood. 

"You can take them off if you want baby." 

"Can I just, move them to the side? You're so fuckin' pretty like this." 

"Sure" you nod at him. He does so and nearly dies at the sight. Seems everything about you is thought of, down to your manicured nails, waxed legs, and bikini wax. The little patch of hair left is driving Eddie fucking crazy. 

He wastes no more time and runs his tongue through your folds, lapping at you like a man possessed. You taste exquisite, a flavour Eddie will remember for the rest of his life. It has him groaning into you, the vibration tingling over your clit making you writhe under him.

He's trying to map what you like, what makes you whimper, what makes you buck into his mouth. You can tell he's trying, really trying, but you know what you need. 

"Eddie, oh fuck, use, use the flat of your tongue," as he changes his tongue shape and rhythm, you wind your fingers into his hair and tug him right where you need him, "Oh God fuck, right there!" 

Yes fucking ma'am. 

Eddie's birthdays, Christmases, Easters, fuck it, all the holidays, have come at once. You are using him for your pleasure, riding his face. His dick is so swollen it's almost painful; he's rutting into the carpet like a teenager, the seam on his jeans not nearly providing enough friction.  

The pleasure is coursing through your veins, throbbing inside your stomach and thighs as you take what you need, fingers pulling hard at his hair. 

The moan that rips from your chest when Eddie pushes two fingers into your soaking wet cunt is pornographic, long and loud. He curls them upward, stroking incessantly at your g spot and spots appear in your vision. The last coherent thought you have is, fuck he really knows what he's doing. 

"Eddie!" 

You come with a strangled scream of his name, then it's all just white light and searing ecstasy as you ride out your orgasm. Your pulse and the feel of Eddie's hair taut in your fingers are the only things keeping you on planet Earth. 

Eddie just about holds it together, fingers working you through your release. You screamed his name. He almost came in his pants right then and there. The sound of you screaming his name is now a new core memory. He's sure he will replay it in his head many times with his fist on his cock.

Your back finally touching the carpet again, you tear Eddie's head away from your pussy and coax him none too gently upward. He hovers over your mouth, a little worried about kissing you when his face is covered with your release, but that worry turns into shock when you push his head forcefully towards yours and slip your tongue in his mouth. 

You can't help but moan at the taste of yourself in his mouth. The moan sounds low in your throat, buzzing into Eddie's mouth so low he feels it in his dick. Seems you weren't lying when you said mommy is dirty too. 

Suddenly Eddie's world turns sideways as you flip him onto his back, pushing his thighs apart with your knee. His scent, the feel of his skin, it's intoxicating. Before you realise what you're doing, you're sucking a love bite into the side of his neck, hard. 

Mine. 

Trailing lips and manicured nails down his torso, you pause at the fly of his jeans. You look up at him through your lashes. 

"This OK Eddie?" 

"Erm… oh God yes?" 

You giggle girlishly, flicking the button of his jeans undone and unzipping the fly gently. Relishing in the moment, you guide him to lift his hips and pull his jeans and boxers down slowly, unwrapping him like a gift.  

And what a fucking gift. 

As you pull his jeans and underwear down to his knees, his hardened cock springs out, coming to rest on his abdomen. It's big, the biggest you think you've seen in real life. Blushing a pretty pink at the tip, a pearl of pre cum sits on the slit at the top. 

Eddie takes your stillness as judgement, he can't help but fill in the silence. 

"Sorry, it's er, it's not like, impressive or anything- oh fuck" 

His apologies are interrupted when you take the tip in your mouth, sucking up the pre cum that glistens there. You roll the tip around your mouth, amazed at the fact he tastes so good. 

Breaking away with a pop, you reply, looking at him as you fist his length slowly with one hand. 

"Eddie, you're really, really big." 

"Really?" He doesn't look convinced, leaning up on his elbows to look at you. 

"Really. You're huge Eddie." 

"Yeah?" An edge of disbelief coats his voice, but he's smiling. 

"Biggest I've seen." 

Eddie's smile is damn near splitting his face in half. 

"So, could I get that in writing or- Jesus fuckin' Christ!" 

You take him in your mouth again, fitting as much as you can, fisting the rest in your hand. The groans and whimpers coming from Eddie's mouth are downright obscene. The wetter you get him, the louder he gets, so you dribble purposely all over your fist, letting it drip down to his balls. 

Eddie's eyes keep trying to roll back but he won't let them, he refuses. He needs to see this, to see you. The slick sounds your hand and mouth are creating are making him fizz from the inside out, each movement is making him want to blow his load in that perfect practised mouth. 

Sammy's mom is sucking my fucking dick dry. 

He's trying to get his head around this impossible situation but it's so outlandish he wants to laugh. Or cry. Or scream. He settles on moaning, hand resting on the back of your head, stroking encouraging circles. 

"Fuck, you're- you're too good at this, holy shit!" 

Relinquishing his length with a sodden wet noise, you fist his length, running your thumb over his tip and lapping at his balls. Taking one in your mouth and playfully sucking, he nearly busts right then and there. 

"OK sweetheart, I-I can't hold back if you, fuck, if you d-do that-" 

You finally unhand him with a cheeky smile and straddle him, your underwear the only barrier between your sex and his throbbing length. 

"You OK there champ?" You ask, a mischievous grin plastered all over your face as you drag your perfect nails down his chest. 

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I-" Eddie grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks, "Please give me a minute, please." 

Eddie's eyes are big, wide and wet. Almost like a lost puppy. You're torn between wanting to hold him close, look after him, and fucking him hard until he cries. 

Suddenly he looks concerned, eyes growing impossibly wider. 

"I don't have, a-a condom or anything-" 

You chuckle lowly, bringing his hand to your lips, kissing softly at his knuckles. 

"Eddie, baby, I had my tubes tied years ago. It's OK. If it's OK with you?" 

Holy shit. Sammy's mom wants to ride me raw. Jesus Christ. 

His head is spinning; he realises he's nodding so hard he may have whiplash. You smirk at his response, the rigorous nodding and wide eyed look is just doing something to your insides; twisting them up, making you hungry. 

Maybe that's why you do what you do. You wink at him, and swing your leg over, pushing your underwear to the side once again. Though this time, you're straddling him backwards, round ass on display as you tease the head of his cock with your soaking wet lips. 

As you sink down onto him, you hear the guttural moan that strikes out from his soul almost, travelling swiftly to your core. He's big, you weren't lying. You feel each vein, each ridge, as you seat yourself fully onto his cock. 

This boy has no idea what he's packing. 

Jesus Christ, the spots this impressive length can reach are unreal. You bounce on him slowly, revelling in the stretch. He's throbbing underneath you, inside you. The sensation makes you moan wantonly, feeling sexier than you've felt in years. 

Eddie's mesmerised by your ass, watching it bounce on his dick, drooling at the shake of it when it plunges back down. His eyes are drawn to your tight hole, half hidden by the pricey underwear that still adorns you. Just a tiny slip of lace hugged in your ass cheeks. 

He's already pushed his luck; he's well aware of that fact. The arousal pumping through him has him throwing caution to the wind however, so he sucks his thumb, getting it nice and wet, and pushes it against your asshole.

It surprises you, sure, but you're moaning louder at his bold move. 

Eddie's reeling, dizzy at your reaction. He was expecting at least for you to just slap his hand away, but if anything you speed up and make even more noise. Fuck, if you could get more perfect, you just did. He pushes his digit in, feeling you clench around it, riding him for all he's worth. 

"Oh fuck, Eddie!" 

It's too much for you to take, being filled in both holes, riding him hard and fast until your vision is blurring and spots are in your eyes. Your release startles you, a fuzzy feeling filling you up from the inside out and exploding from your cunt in a gush. 

Reality seeps in as you come down from your high; pain in your knees searing up your leg. 

"Sweetheart, I need to get on top, please." 

It's a relief you're not prepared to admit to as you climb off, legs twitching and knackered. 

Near collapsing on the floor, Eddie's on you, falling in his excitement. He's forgotten his jeans are still woven around his ankles. He kicks them off and slides between your spread legs. 

"Can I take your panties off now sweetheart?" 

What he's not saying, is he really doesn't want to miss what might be the only time he gets to see you naked. You oblige, lifting up your hips so he can wrestle the sodden garment off you. 

As if you can hear his prayers, you unhook your bra too, flinging it toward the couch. Eddie's nearly having a heart attack; it's hammering hard in his chest, the only thing stopping it from bursting out is his ribcage. The sight of you, nude, beneath him? It's unravelling him in a way he didn't know was possible. 

So he loses it for a moment, burying his head in the valley of your breasts, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it. Your nipples stand to attention at his ministrations, yet your core hums at the lack of attention. 

"Eddie, please, I need you inside me." 

Fuck this is unreal. She's so beautiful and she's begging for me. Feels like a dream. 

But it's not a dream. He's pressing his quivering length against you again and your pussy is swallowing him up as if it's hungry for him. 

You let him in, his hard member spearing you, humping into you hard and rough. You groan against him, fingernails finding leverage in his broad shoulders. 

His arms hook under your sweaty knees, pulling them hard against your torso, angling himself to fuck into you mercilessly. 

"Fuck, you feel- so fuckin' good" He stammers out, slamming his hips into you. 

You're beyond words, screaming his name like it's the only word you know. 

"You gonna come again? Please, fuck, please come, I need it, I need it baby please" His babbling words fire out at you, driving you ceaselessly to another orgasm. 

Fingers wind between your heaving forms, running urgent circles over your clit. They slip and slide against your sodden nub, desperately seeking to get you to that precipice. You moan, and moan, and finally clench and scream his name, voice hard, burning in your throat.

Eddie can't take it, not the way your cunt is grabbing onto him so tightly, constricting his dick as if it's afraid he'll leave. He stutters his hips and grunts his own release deep into you. 

For a minute he doesn't stop, He refuses to stop. He doesn't want it to be over. So, he fucks his cum into you until it's impossible to continue and finally comes up for air. 

You envelop his lips into a suffocating kiss, swollen lips and tongue and spit. Messy and passionate, he returns it, glad that you still want to kiss him at the end of all things. 

Though, you don't want it to be over. His touch, his feel, his taste, you could soak it up, roll around in it forever, wrap yourself in his arms and stay. A mad thought. A maddening thought. 

Eddie slips from inside you making you frown at the loss. His smile is soaked in mischief however, as he starts to kiss down your front again, burying his head in the deep valley of your breasts, tongue lathering over the supple flesh and moving downwards. 

He's never, ever, felt the need to taste himself on another. As a matter of fact, if you had told him yesterday he would feel the desperate urge to press his tongue into a pussy that is dripping with his own cum he would have laughed in your face. But, this is your pussy. Your tight wet cunt, and he needs to taste it. He needs it like he needs air to breathe. For a second he stares up at you with big soulful eyes. 

"I wanna taste what we made." 

His words are shooting into the pulse spilling from your core.

"Really?" Your words drip in perplexity, amazed that any man would want that, but the thought lingers, making you realise that you want that. 

No further time wasted, he dives into your dripping core, tongue dragging through your aching lips. For a moment it's too much, until it drops into pleasure; pleasure that you sink into, melting under his touch. 

Eddie laps furiously at your clit, both of your releases dripping from his chin. He sinks thick fingers inside, squelching into your soft heat. 

Wordlessly, he takes his fingers out and reaches them up to your face. His eyes are trained on you, flat of his tongue rubbing against your swollen nub. 

Hesitantly, you take in the sight of his sticky fingers, before you take them into your mouth, sucking and hollowing your cheeks. The taste is indescribable; it's salty, sweet, tangy, each separate flavour hitting your tongue differently, fuelling your desires.

You're making Eddie's dreams come true with that gesture. Your trust in him, your filthiness, the way your tongue works against his fingers, it's all shooting to his heart, and his cock. He's impossibly hard again, groaning into your cunt. 

Another release is speeding toward you. You can feel yourself hurtling towards it, free falling into ecstasy. You grip around his wrist, fingers digging bruises into the tendons as your orgasm rushes out of you in a string of curse words. 

He moves back up your body and you envelop his slicked lips in a firm kiss. To your surprise, you can feel his hard member digging into your thigh. It's been a long time since you've been with anyone who couldn't go more than one round before rolling over and falling asleep. The joys of youth. 

"You OK Eddie?" You ask between breath-taking kisses. 

"OK? I'm fucking amazing sweetheart. Feel like I just won the lottery or something" He huffs a laugh, nudging the tip of his nose with yours. 

"You, erm-" you begin, feeling almost embarrassed, "-you wanna go again?" 

"Oh hell yeah." 

His tip is already begging at your entrance but you place a firm hand to his chest, stilling his movements. 

"Eddie, upstairs? My back is killing me." You admit it, the hard floor giving you aches and pains. 

"Fuck, yeah, sorry. Come on" practically leaping up, he holds out his hand to you and you grasp it in yours. You giggle at his eagerness, the sight of him stark naked leaping up the stairs three at a time stoking your amusement. 

This might be inappropriate, it might be a bit wrong, but damn, this is fun. Having someone desire you so much, who wants to fuck you over and over? Morals can kick in tomorrow. Tonight, you have a gorgeous young man aching to give you more. 

********************

"Hey, you still here?" 

You look up, distracted from your musings of last night. God, that boy had some stamina. 

"Huh?" 

"Wow, that date must have been good! You going to spill? Come on, tell me about it!" 

Blushing, you sip the glass of wine in front of you. Karen Wheeler had popped round unannounced with a bottle and you were sitting around your kitchen table whilst she grilled you about why you were smiling so much. She would lose her shit if she knew who you were smiling about. 

"I mean, I can't really talk about it." You mumble around your glass. 

"Oh God, why? Oh, he's married, I bet he's married! You naughty thing!" Her words are admonishing, but her cheeks are glowing. She's loving every minute of this. 

Why not? At least that would explain it away. 

"Yeah, he's married." 

"Oh my you're terrible!" She cackles, laughing. "How was he?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about Karen." 

"Oh, come on you're practically glowing! I know that look" She says, nodding sagely. 

"OK, look" You say, taking a gulp of wine for composure and a deep breath before it rushes out of your mouth in a torrid whisper. 

"It was fucking incredible, like toe curling incredible, you know? And he just kept going, I mean, honestly? The best I've ever had." 

Karen coughs and nods pointedly behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you see him. 

Eddie. Fuck. 

He's standing there nonchalantly, leaning on the doorframe with a Cheshire cat grin. 

"Sorry for the interruption, just grabbing a couple beers." 

He bounces into the kitchen and fetches two beers from the fridge. 

"Me and Sammy are just working on the campaign. I'll er, leave you ladies to it." 

He practically skips out the room, leaving you red faced. 

"That Eddie?" You nod, face red as a beetroot. 

"He's grown up, hasn't he?" 

You steer away from this line of questioning, mortified that he heard what you said. 

"Only on the outside. You want a top up?" She agrees with a grin as you fill her glass up and she regales you with all the poolside gossip. When the bottle is done, she leaves with a wink, saying she'll keep your secret. If she only knew what that was. 

Eddie's on cloud nine right now, bouncing up the stairs three at a time. 

The best she's ever had. The best she's ever had. 

It's in his mind, playing in a loop. His mantra, a quote that will live deep in his chest from now until forever after. 

The best she's ever had. 

He flings the door open and flounces into Sammy's room, banging a beer down on the bedside table. 

"A beverage for you, good fellow!" 

"Aha! Fine work m'lord!" Sammy twists the cap off, tossing it in the bin. Eddie does the same, twisting to face the waste paper basket, and takes a long swig. 

"Eddie you dirty fuck." 

He freezes, ice pouring down his spine. Spinning on his heel, he turns to face Sammy.

"What are you on about?" He asks, a fake smile masking the fear that had bottomed out in his stomach. 

"I see the panties you've got in your back pocket, red ones. They're poking out! Dude, did you get lucky last night?" Sammy smirks, swigging his own beer.

He couldn't help himself. He swiped them when he was leaving. They were still wet, soaked with a mixture of his spit and your release. He'd sniffed them and got himself off twice this morning. 

Chill out. Sammy's grinning. He's got no clue who they belong to. 

Eddie relaxes and grins smugly back, laying on the floor, his back against the bed. 

"Oh, you have no idea." 

********************

Humming to yourself, you sort through the dirty clothes in the laundry room, separating darks and lights. 

Your thoughts drift yet again to that messy haired rocker. His large hands, his tight torso, his dick. Fuck, his dick. 

Shaking your head, you do what you can to rid your brain of your salacious thoughts, loading the washer a little more forcefully than you necessarily needed to. 

You hear the unmistakable click of the door behind you. Not bothering to turn, you huff as you shut the washer lid with a bang. 

"I swear to God Sammy if you need a shirt for tonight I've already-" 

"Hey sweetheart." 

Flipping to face the door, there he is. Arms folded across his slender chest, smug smirk spread stickly across his features, he stares at you. 

"Eddie, you need to leave." 

Your tone is stern, but your bottom lip disappears into your mouth, being nibbled at by your teeth. 

"You sure? Thought you might wanna see me. You know, since I'm the best you ever had." 

"Eddie shut the fuck up!" You hiss between your teeth, eyes flashing to the door. 

"Sweetheart, Sammy's fallen asleep. He had a long night. You know what that's like." 

"Eddie, that was a one time thing. God, it's not like this can go anywhere, so why are you here?" 

Tapping your foot impatiently, he closes the gap between you, cornering you between the wall and the washing machine. 

You want to be angry; to push him away and leave, but the pounding of your pulse between your legs betrays you. 

As if he knows, he slots his leg between yours, denim clad thigh hovering near your throbbing heat, pushing your sundress up in the process. 

"I know. Fuck, I'm well aware. I just wanna- help you out. Like, an arrangement" He smiles, knuckles reaching up to stroke your cheek. 

"Eddie-" 

Before you manage to form words, he's on his knees in front of you, large palms running over your bare thighs. 

"Please." 

That's all he says, wet doe eyes wide, gleaming up at you as if you were some sort of goddess and he was kneeling at your altar. 

Eddie's begging to the old Gods and the new; fuck it, to anyone who might be listening. He wants you, with everything he has. Each fibre is burning for you. He thought it might go away after last night, but it was simply a taste. A drop of water doesn't quench an undying thirst. 

This little sundress is doing nothing to sate his hunger for you. The flimsy material clings in all the right places, forcing his eyes to trail over your curves like a man starved. 

Without a thought in your head, you wind your fingers into Eddie's hair, relishing the feel of his hot breath on your naked thighs. Guiding his head forward, you shudder as his lips trace across your flesh. 

Eddie lifts your dress up, reaching desperately to pull your panties off and away before you change your mind. Slick sticking to them, he pulls them down, watching as they gradually peel from your core. 

He sits on his heels, eyes flitting from your eyes to your cunt. 

"Sweetheart, please. I just wanna- I wanna help you with your needs. Fuck, with my needs." 

Nodding emphatically, you tug at his hair, drawing him in. 

Eddie counts his blessings and dives straight at your pussy, lapping between the folds just like you taught him. 

"Oh God" you moan aloud, then bite at your hand to stop your noises. Flicking one leg over his shoulder, you force his head as close as you can, nearly riding his face. 

If anything, Eddie is a quick learner, at least when it comes to you. 

His tongue is electric, hitting all of the right spots. He feels your cunt on his tongue, leaving hot and heavy licks. Running his hand up your thigh again, he presses his thumb against your clenching hole, wiggling into your slick drenched pussy. 

"Eddie, yes!" You whisper, fingers pulling at his curls incessantly. Eyes rolling back, you rut your hips into him, on the brink of falling apart.

White hot light sears your eyelids as you  come with a stifled cry, cunt undulating around his thick digit. 

"Fuckfuckfuck!" 

Yanking his head away from you by the roots of his hair, you cannot fail to hear the unmistakable moan that spills from his lips. 

Eddie's staring up at you dumbfounded, as if you created the universe just for him. 

Panting, you stare back down at him, his lips parted and shining with your orgasm. 

"Eddie, holy hell." 

He stands, wiping the slick from his face with the back of his hand, though it does nothing to remove the grin. 

Against every better judgement, you grab him by the shirt and pull him closer, lips nearly touching. 

"You- you can't tell anyone about this, OK? Not a soul, understood?" 

If it were possible, his grin grows even wider, palm resting at your waist. 

"I can be discreet." He whispers as he presses his lips to yours. Winding fingers into his hair, you deepen the kiss, tongue moving expertly between his parted lips to taste him, and you. 

Eddie pulls away reluctantly. 

"I better go." 

As he moves to the door, hand hovering over the handle, you call out to him. 

"Eddie, wait." 

Turning his head, he looks at you. 

"Sammy's seeing Tiff again tonight, and er, Johnny's still at his grandma's." 

"Good to know." He winks and leaves. What you don't know is that he does a mini victory dance once the door is shut, fists pumping in the air with sheer joy. 

He doesn't know how long this is going to last, but he'll take every single second he can get with you whilst you let him. 

Taglist (just some likely candidates ;) )

@cursedyuta @eddiesprincess86 @munson-blurbs @rip-quizilla @emsgoodthinkin @josephquinnsfreckles @zestychili @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eiightysixbaby @lightvixxen @ali-r3n @usedtobecooler @roanniom

[fleursbending]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. | Sully Family

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 : "You taught me that love doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger." Sully! Reader to Sully! Parents? Just a fluffy family fic please

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : sully!family x sully!daughter

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : becoming one with the metkayina's has not been an easy task. as everyone continues to settle in their own ways, your family begins to grow more worried about your well-being. this isn't the sully they know. you're withdrawn, and quiet. what better way to fix that than to seek you out when you least expect it?

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : hi if you're confused so am i! there were issues when i first posted this so i am reposting it again. thank you for the love on the previous one though! // trust me this is fluffy 😭 just have to go through a lil angst to get to that part <33 this is purely a self-indulgent hurt/comfort fic! didn't fully proofread this btw! pls feel free to reblog and leave your thoughts in the comments.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : bullying, discrimination, angst but fluff at the end, descriptions of loneliness, hurt/comfort, you're gonna wish even more that u were a sully after reading this.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.2k words

𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 : hiiiiii my luvs you can read part 2: here !🙏🏼

The ocean was not your friend, you could only look at the endless channel of water in disdain. This was far too daunting for you, you liked the little rivers or ponds back at home. The sealife while beautiful, petrified you.

You missed the lush greens and the smell of the dew from the occasional rain back in the jungle. It was easy to forget your responsibilities, not that you had as many as your other siblings. Being the second youngest Sully had its perks. Not older than Lo'ak, and not younger than Tuk.

The "expeditions" you went on now made you look like a fool. You didn't know the terrain here, how to navigate fluidly through the water like Tsireya, Ao'nung, or Roxto.

Each passing day your siblings got better at managing to hold their breath, and riding their Ilu's. But you were still stuck in the past.

It felt reality kept kicking you in the face. Your stubborn self was annoyed as well. Holding a grudge against your family. It seemed like no one missed home. You understood why your parents made the decision they did, but it didn't make the act of doing so hurt any less.

At least you had these quiet moments before your thoughts ran rampant to practice your breathing.

You were suddenly interrupted from your twisting thoughts when a nudge was directed at your head.

It was Ao'nung and his crew.

"Leave me alone." You hissed at them, not wanting to deal with their bullshit today.

"Leave me alone." Ao'nung mocked you as he tugged on your tail.

You quickly stood up, looking to see if any of your family were close by. They weren't. You were supposed to be back in the Mauri but once again, you lost track of time.

"No one is here to help you, Y/n."

They grabbed your hand, poking insults at you and your family. You knew better than to talk back, especially if no one was here to help you out. It was 4 against 1. So instead you bit your lip and kept your mouth shut.

"Roxto, are you there?" His mother called from around the corner, startling the goonies.

"You're in luck, scram!" Ao'nung hissed at you.

Eyes widening, you stumbled as you rushed back to your Mauri. You didn't dare look back at your tormentors.

Once you were a few steps away, you slowed your pace. Catching your breath, before making your way inside.

The worried chatter of your family halted when you made your presence.

Neytiri stopped pacing, moving over to you and grabbing your face in her hands.

"Ewya help me before I lose it. Where have you been? You're 15 minutes late! I was about to send your brothers out to look for you."

Had it really been that long?

"I'm sorry." You looked down in shame. It's weird being on the brunt end of the stick. Even your parents have grown more accustomed to having to tell you off rather than Lo'ak. It was definitely odd.

"You didn't answer your mother's question, where have you been?" Jake didn't like being stern with you, but you being late to dinner had been happening more regularly.

You used to be a stickler for these dinners, being the one to push for them. How everyone had to be in attendance, and on time. It was family bonding time, moments to catch up on what everyone had done that day.

"Just around, I was with my Ilu - I'm sorry." You looked down to the Mauri's floor, unable to meet your father's eyes. It was hard lying to him.

Neteyams eyebrows arched in confusion, he had just been with his Ilu. You were nowhere in sight. He decided to let it slide this time, but he couldn't help but wonder where you snuck off too.

"Alright well, you really got to keep track of time yeah. You used to love these dinners!"

"Yes, and I still do!" You answered too quickly, not missing a beat.

If Jake wasn't suspicious before, he certainly was now. But like Neteyam, he decided to let it slide. Your brothers had told him and Neytiri how you've been struggling to catch up and learn everything in the lessons.

That was partially it, but if only he was aware of the bigger picture.

Jake nodded, looking to Neytiri. She also held a look of concern, but Jake made a silent signal that basically stated:

"We shouldn't push it, not now."

"Well, let's eat before the food gets even colder." Neytiri ushered her kids over, keeping a close eye on you.

Your family gathers around the food that was already set, and start eating. As all your siblings chatted excitedly about the activities they've done throughout the day. You didn't say a thing, not even piping in.

Neytiri and Jake once again met gazes, thinking the same thing.

Something's wrong with our daughter.

Soon dinner was over and it was time to rest, as your family rested together you couldn't help yourself as you removed Tuk's arm that clung to your shoulder.

Maneuvering your way outside, you jumped into the water. Why sleep when you can practice again?

Before Eclipse ended you made sure to squeeze the excess water out of your hair and made yourself comfortable alongside your family. Your body ached and could no longer fight off your sleep deprivation. But it was worth it, you could hold your breath a lot longer now under water.

From then on, it gradually got worse. Even your siblings would struggle to find you throughout the day. You'd take longer naps through the day, and Lo'ak knew you were sneaking out at night. Your essence seemed to further rid itself from you, and all that was left was a hollow shell of yourself.

They too, shared similar thoughts with their parents. No longer could they see you dwindle away. It didn't sit right with them, you're a Sully through and through. Sully's stick together.

So they did what they know best and was most accessible to them, track.

Instead this time they weren't on a hunt, or looking for what was to be a good meal for their clan. They were following the steps of their baby sister.

If you stepped out of your brain for a moment, you would have immediately clocked them. But once again, Y/n was shut in her own bubble.

"Bro, don't you find it weird that she hasn't realised we are here?" Lo'ak whispered as he looked at you behind the leaves keeping them hidden.

"Shut up, Lo'ak" Neteyam grumbled. He didn't want to agree even if his words held some truth.

"Hey, I have to agree with him. We shouldn't have been able to get this far. She's usually far too hyperaware of her surroundings." Kiri observed you, stunned and clueless.

They'd never been to this part of Awa'atlu before. They'd been so fixated on the ocean. They had yet to really explore the area that surrounded their new home. It oddly felt like they were waltzing through their past.

At last, you came upon your tree. You liked it because it had a specific branch that you could curve into. Blend in, and be one with your surroundings. Like you had used to do before in the jungle. This was now your next best option.

Your siblings looked in confusion at one another, not understanding how this could be the reason you've been periodically gone. Did you spend all your time here?

But then it came.

It was barely there, and you were struggling to catch your breath. The cries.

It strikes through the serene sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, and the nearby insects chirping.

Your sibling's ears flattened as they looked at each other in sheer worry. You were a spitfire, but you had always been calm and collected. The physical embodiment of the word warm. Happiness was always with you. So where did it all go wrong?

"Great mother, I fear that I am not good enough. I thought consistency was key, I've been trying to practice anytime I can. But I'm so tired. I've never felt this weak and useless?" You mumbled to yourself, looking up into the sky.

Groaning in frustration, you continued. "Maybe Ao'nung was right. I will never be one of the people. I will always be too alien. I will never be able to live up to my family."

Lo'ak enraged by the doubts you had voiced stepped out from their cover.

Your ears tuned into the noise, you finally tuned into your senses and became more alert. As you hopped off the branch, hastily wiping your tears.

"Brother." You choked out, lips trembling.

He took slow steps towards you, trying to soothe you as he brought you into a hug.

"Baby sister," he said so quietly, solemnly.

You couldn't remember the last time he hugged you, and neither he could he. It wore his heart down, seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

Soon the presence of more arms wrapped around you both, clinging onto you - securing you in their grasps. For the first time in a long time, tenderness surged through you.

"We've got you, Y/n. You're going to be alright. Let it all out now." Neteyam who was at your right side gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead, muttering to himself - "Oh my baby sister."

Kiri had never felt such pain from you, it came off in waves. And it almost debilitated her. In that moment, it was the most protective she had felt for you. It synced through all of them, a fire had awaken in the pit of their souls - so fierce that even Toruk Makto would flinch from it.

Slowly your breaths began to ease, and your tense shoulders slumped down. It was emotionally taxing having had all these emotions balled up inside you. Now it was unraveling, and it felt all too bittersweet.

Your siblings sensing this, mellowed out on their group hug they were giving you. Moving over, you all settled down against the tree you've been confiding in moments before.

Tuk grabbed your hand while Kiri tucked your intricate braids behind your ears. You mouthed a "thank you", leaning your head on her shoulder.

All it took was Neteyam to ask a very simple question, "What's been going on, baby sister?"

And once your mouth opened, you decided - why not just let them in on everything? So you did.

You told them about how ashamed and humiliated you had felt when you started lagging behind. How Ao'nung and his friends would tease you whenever they had the chance to do. (It was always away from prying eyes). Due to that, it only made the feelings of hatred you harbored for yourself - increase a tenth-fold.

A deliberately belligerent cycle was born. Self-doubt equated to "I will push myself to the brink of exhaustion". You'd seek out your family thinking they'd have noticed. But they were too caught up in their own commitments to realise your intentions.

All you wanted was for any of them to see the hard work you had been pouring in to adapting here. But how could they when you always lingered on the outskirts?

Late to dinner, late to the lessons, never seen. They couldn't appreciate what was in front of them because they hadn't witnessed it themselves. How utterly ironic.

"I see why you didn't, but I wish you had told us, Y/n. We could have helped you." Kiri insisted as she patted your head.

"I know." You grumbled, but you were grateful for how attentive they are to you.

"Ao'nung will pay." Lo'ak seethed, completely shifting the topic of conversation.

Neteyam rolled his eyes and interjected. "He will, but not in the way you are seeing it in your mind right now. We have to go to dad and mum about this."

Your irritated eyes widened, leaping up from where your back had laid against the tree. Y/n scowled at Neteyam, her tail flicking in anguish. No, not her parents.

"Absolutely not, 'Teyam. They mustn't know anything of this." You countered him, disbelief flooding your features. Your parents would only perceive you as a failure, and that was the last thing you could stomach right now.

Neteyam stood up by you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. He shook his head at you and gave you one of his brotherly grins.

"Baby sister, they are just as worried as we are." He looked behind you, and urged you to turn around.

Oh great mother, that could only mean one thing.

Ember crashed on ember, one filled with panic, and two filled with distraught. The tension was taut, but all your parents wanted to do was cradle you in their arms like they had in your first few months of life.

"Kids, back to the Mauri." Jake ordered them, pointing back to where it was.

"But dad-" Lo'ak butted in, worriedly looking at you.

"It's okay. Thank you, Lo'ak." You coaxed him to join your siblings who were also hesitating a little.

They disappeared amongst nature, and their footsteps grew fainter and fainter. Until all that was left was your heartbeat pounding in your ears. It felt oddly comforting being in their company even though doubt was eating you up from the inside.

It's been a while.

Neytiri was the first to approach you, her hands shook as she cradled your face. She took you in for the first time in weeks, and this time she was able to do it properly. Lately, she'd only been able to admire you whilst you sleep, or during meals.

In the morning you'd be gone in a blink of an eye. Throwing a haphazard, "I'll see you later", over your shoulder.

She missed you profoundly, so much that it physically pained her sometimes. Neytiri treasured you deeply, to put it bluntly - her heart felt like it'd been slashed by a Thanotor ever since you started pushing yourself away.

Jake followed in his mate's footsteps. His eye's tearing into your soul and trying to catch if there had been any distinct changes that have occurred to you.

"You don't look like yourself." Jake stumbled on his words.

Neytiri hissed, smacking your dad on the back of his head. A slight giggle escaped you that made both of their hearts sing. "Ma jake."

"Sorry." He mumbled, giving you a cheeky grin.

Y/n's doubts were already melting away before she herself could even acknowledge it. She grabbed both her parent's hands, leading them over to her tree not too far away from where they had been standing.

Mimicking how she and her siblings were just before. She settled against the tree again, bringing her parents down with her.

The trio admired their surroundings, taking in the wonders of Pandora. Especially Jake, and Neytiri. This is the closest they've felt to something akin to the jungle they'd once inhabited.

"I'm sure you heard everything, and it is true. I am sorry if I've disappointed you guys. I thought I could manage it all on my own."

Neytiri played with your hair and could only chastise your words. "You did not disappoint us, if anything - you infuriated us. We were just worried about you, our dear daughter."

Jake nodded in agreement. "We love you, and we want to be there for you. We will if you allow us. That's what we are here for. You don't need to fight these battles alone. Remember what I told you, baby girl?"

You rolled your eyes and pushed your dad away from you jokingly.

"It's us against the world." You mumbled.

Jake teasingly put a hand to his ear. "I'm sorry? What was that? I couldn't hear you."

Neytiri let out a soft laugh at you two's antics, watching with endearment sparkling in her eyes.

Clearing your throat, you reiterated your words. "It's us against the world."

Jake did extravagant hand motions, "More enthusiasm please!"

You were beaming, yelling out, "It's us against the world!"

"That's right baby, it is." Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulders bringing you to his side. Neytiri instinctively leaned against you both.

Y/n couldn't help but admire her parents. They were her foundation, her protectors. She couldn't believe that she used to be ashamed of being a Sully. It was her legacy, one she is only beginning to pave. She wasn't about to let Na'vi who didn't truly know her, dictate her life any longer.

"You taught me that love doesn't make us weak, it makes us stronger." You started, staring at your parents.

"I just - I couldn't catch up. There are so many other bigger things to worry about, and I thought.. I don't know. That I'd overcome this. I tried to love the ocean and the people. But I miss home. I miss everything that was green, now it's just all blue! That's actually why I like this place so much." You rambled, arms waving erratically. It felt gratifying to get it off your chest, especially to the two people you have wanted to tell from the get-go.

Your parents nodded, taking all your words in. But they were still conflicted. Their daughter had a competitive nature like no other, every time the world pushed her down - she always got back up. If you were lagging behind so much, you would have just pushed yourself more. Work extra hard, and seek help from your family.

But you haven't done any of that this time. All the means necessary she could have used as a stepping stone were left out of this equation. Instead, you had suffered in silence.

"You know, Y/n. It's not your fault for feeling like you don't belong. But you are one of us. You are Sully, you are the embodiment of strong heart. It does not matter what others say to you when no one else is there. It does not matter that you have 5 fingers." Neytiri protested, sighing.

She made sure you were looking at her, hearing her.

"What matters is how you control how it affects you. You are still growing, baby. This is a lesson you will remember for a lifetime and the next." Neytiri advised you, squeezing your hand.

"Your mother is right. At the end of the day, the power is in your hands. So use it, sweetheart. Follow your heart, and let us know next time if it gets a little too much. Alright?" Jake expanded on what Neytiri had told you.

You looked down at their hands holding yours. Yeah, Sully's really do stick together. And you wouldn't trade that for anything else in this world and all the other's orbiting you.

"Alright." Y/n restated, tugging both of her parents up with her. They stared at their child with confusion.

"Let's go back home." This time what you threw over your shoulder to them was a sweet smile, dimples and all.

Neytiri and Jake spoke with only their eyes as they let Y/n guide them back to their Mauri.

Our daughter is going to be just fine.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ˳೫˚

bonus:

Y/n's laughter could be heard inside the Mauri as she played in the water with Tuk just in front of their home.

Jake turned to Lo'ak and Neteyam who were doing some chores.

He cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck.

"I'll turn a blind eye if you decide to give Ao'nung a beating or two. Just for today." Jake mentioned, before going back to cleaning his gun.

Lo'ak had a devious grin, rubbing his knuckles together, "Yes Sir."

𝒇𝒍𝒆𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑

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