#i just called him a dickhead tried to give him the finger and walked off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mikaswannabe · 1 year

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"IS THIS SKIRT TOO SHORT?"

FEATURING...

BAJI KEISUKE — degrading, dom!baji, fingering, jealousy, vaginal sex, spanking, filming.

MANJIRO "MIKEY" SANO — dom!mikey, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering.

SANZU HARUCHIYO — dry humping, objectification, degrading, slight manipulation, body worship, ass-eating, fingering.

TAKASHI MITSUYA — severe horniness, dom!mitsuya, semi-public sex, body worship, panty fucking, vaginal sex.

CHIFUYU MATSUNO — slight dollification, forced undressing, pussy worship, small mommy kink, body worship, masturbation, buttjob, vaginal sex, overstimulation, riding.

KEN "DRAKEN" RYUGUJI — dom!draken, controlling, brat-taming, fingering, car head.

BAJI

"Baby."

Usually you would spend most of your time in this walk-in closet when you know you have a function to attend, but Baji knew you were about to ask for a rating of your outfit when he smells your lovely scent after you come out of that door, and hearing that sweet call of your pet name for him.

Meanwhile, he hadn't even gotten off of the bed since he made himself a bowl of Cap'n Crunch an hour ago. You saw that basketball video game that he always plays occupying the TV screen.

He didn't understand why you always needed so long to get ready. He just saw it as a difference between genders, because he knew he could hop into his clothes and brush his hair 30 minutes before leaving and still stunt at the party you two planned on going to.

"Yo."

"Look at my outfit. Is it cute?"

Usually he would take a short glance, give you a yes, and then go back to playing his game. You knew that you did something right when his jaw clenched and he took a double take.

"Why are you dressed all whorish like that?"

"Whorish?! Really, Baji??"

You were decked out like a pink princess, as per usual. Your face was beat, your hair was running down your back, and your accessories were stacked. He wasn't looking at any of that though. The only thing he saw was your abomination that you were probably gonna call a skirt.

This torn ass piece of fabric failed to cover your ass the way you tried to play as. It was too pink, and it stopped far above your mid-thigh. Not to help, there was an intentional slit on the right side that could have your whole pussy fly out if the wind blew too hard.

How did he even let you buy this? He wished a security alarm would blast everytime you brought something like this into the house.

"Do you even have panties on?"

"Yeah. I'm wearing a thong."

You grinned as you gave him this answer, but he wasn't smiling. No enthusiasm showed in his expression when he told you, "Come over here."

You knew he was serious when you saw that he didn't even pause his game, all of the NPCs on screen running around his character and passing him up. But the only movement you showed is when your smile fell, nothing going on in your legs besides tingles.

"You didn't fucking hear me?" He put the controller down, and then he swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting there with them spread as he pointed to the floor between his planted feet.

"Come stand right here. Don't make me tell you again."

Apprehension filled you as you walked over to where he said. His calloused hands grazed your exposed torso, but his touch was gentler than usual.

"This is how you want some dickhead to touch you when you get in that party, right?" He wrapped five fingers around the thickness of your thigh, bringing those fingers up and lifting your skirt.

Your pretty pink thong had a white crown on the fabric. "I bought this for you. How're you just gonna wear it out for everyone else to see?"

"I wouldn't do you like that, baby." You assured, running your fingers through his long black strands with the other hand on his shoulder.

Two fingers grazed your clothed cunt, and that made you feel weak in the knees. "Keisuke..."

"No, shut up. Dress up like a slut and think I'll just let it fly. Did you forget who the fuck you're dating?"

"No, baby. I just thought that- I thought it looked nice."

"Looked nice for who?" Moving the thong to the side, your plump lips were out, and you almost squeezed your thighs together at the feeling.

With a backhand smack to your thigh, you reopened them. "You want some loser that'll treat you all nice, huh?"

Just like that, he slid two fingers between your wet slit, keeping his eyes on yours. "Kei, I only want you."

"You say that, and then you pull slutty stunts like this."

You whined when he drove those two fingers into your wet hole, pumping them back and forth. "You just want more attention from me, huh mama? That's what's making you act like this?"

"Y-Yes, baby."

"Then quit trying to run and get that attention from other guys. No one could make you feel as good as I do. You know that, don't you?"

"I know, baby. Nobody else can get me this wet." You were flooding his wrist already, moaning every time his fingers would get to that fleshy spot deep inside of you.

"That's right. You're learning, my pretty girl."

He was obsessed with the low curses and calls of his name you let out as you drenched his fingers, leaving drip-drops of your juices on your clothes that had the fortune to be under your spraying cunt.

"Baji." You cooed. Your knees were bending inwards and a puddle was left on the floor between your legs.

He stood up, the movements of his fingers staying constant. You knew he wanted your eyes in line with his, so you had to crane your neck up past the sight of his muscular torso being held in his black tank to look into his honey brown eyes as he towered down on you.

"What do you have to say, baby?"

"I'm sorry, honey."

He hummed in satisfaction, bringing his lips down to your neck. "You are? I'm not convinced."

"Baji, I'm really sorry! P-Please~"

He pulled his fingers out, and then he grabbed you by your waist and flung you on the bed. You whined as you were on all fours on the mattress.

He moved the skirt from covering up your ass cheeks with ease. He placed a rough smack on your ass, and the meat jiggled like jello. "Make that shit shake, baby."

Your ass was his favorite thing about you. The tricks you could do with that gift was pure magic. He could see the thin pink line of your thong between your cheeks with every interval of you making them clap against each other.

His hard-on easily made the tent in his sweatpants larger and larger with every second of him watching the show you put on, and you shrieked when he ruthlessly sunk in.

Your brown skin reddened as he smacked your ass again, and again. Then, he leaned over you to grab his phone, and he slid to the right side of his lock screen to turn on his camera.

Grabbing you by your neck, he pulled your back closer to his chest. You saw your scrunched up face in the video he started, and the audio of it was bound to be filled with all of the juicy clapping sounds that were echoing through the room.

Your breasts flung out of the thin ass fabric you called a sweater when he pulled it down, and they were bouncing in the camera as he made you look at yourself.

"Hmm, we'll send this to your friends and tell them you're not going to that stupid party anymore, yeah?"

"Bajiiii, I'm sorry!"

"Save it. Just keep throwing that pussy on me."

MIKEY

"Mikey, you're here!"

He closed the door to his office with his back facing the room, but his eyes widened and he turned around when he heard his girlfriend's coquettish voice reach his ears.

"Y/N, what're you doing here?" You were sitting in his office chair, the size of it eating you up as you spun side to side in it.

"I just brought you some soup. I know your throat is hurting lately, and I wanted to do something nice for you."

"Oh, Y/N. That's sweet, but you know how I feel about you coming up he-"

He cut himself off when you stood up and started to walk towards him.

Mikey prides himself in two things. Number one: No one could beat his ass. Number two: He has a sexy ass girlfriend.

This sexy ass girlfriend was a ditz though. Such a sweet, fashionable ditz.

You were wearing a mesh top that your nipple piercings poked through, and your skirt could've passed as a jumbo belt. It was a fuzzy white fabric that ruched up with every swing that your hips did as you walked, and the fact that you had to pull it down as soon as you stood up said all he needed to know.

"What's wrong?" He didn't finish his previous sentence, and right now he was just staring you up and down as you stood in front of him.

"You walked through here like that?"

Mikey knew that even though he was the leader of his gang, when he's not around those idiots, they're being idiots. He didn't want their idiocy troubling you, but you didn't know any better. He knew you liked coming in here and seeing his lifestyle, even though it is dangerous as hell. It felt like a fun little field trip to you, but if he was in charge of it, he would've made sure you knew you didn't pass the dress code.

"Really, Mikey? This again?" This was definitely not the first time he's told you something about what you wear. But at least he's with you most of the time to ward off any geezers.

"No, you walked out of the house like this?" With those long legs on display. Those titties sitting pretty in that excuse of a top. Your asscheeks being visible with half of your movements. These are all things only he deserved to see. It all belonged to him.

"Why can't you just be happy to see me?"

He grabbed you by your hand and dragged you back over to his desk. You protested this abruptness as he laid you down on the table, but he could care less. That vexing look was in his eyes as he snatched your skirt off.

"Mikey, what are you doing?!"

"Stop being a brat." Your lacy panties weren't enough to stop you from feeling the cold wood of the desk on the skin of your ass. He dangled the white clothing item in front of your face. "Since you like this skirt so much, get a good look at it for the last time, 'cause I'm gonna burn it."

He threw the skirt into the abyss, and he sat down in his chair and pulled you by your thighs to his face. Ravenously, he pulled your panties to the side with his teeth and put his mouth on your pussy.

"Ah- Mikey! What if someone walks in? You know your friend Sanzu doesn't knock."

When he pulled his face away, the area around his mouth was already drenched. He slid two fingers into your hole and rubbed his thumb around that sweet bud of yours, keeping these stimulated as his raspy voice talked to you.

"I think this is what you wanted when coming in here with everything on display like this. I love you, but you don't think enough sometimes. It worries me. That's why I always wanna be around you, to protect you. You hear me?"

You mind was actually mushing because of all the stimulation on your clit, so the only thing that you heard was the question he lastly asked you. "I hear you, honey. I'm so sorry."

"If you squirt in my mouth, I'll accept your apology. Let's see if this pussy can help me with my sore throat."

SANZU

You sat atop your man's lap, him fondling your ass roughly as you grinded down on him and kissed his scarred lips. The familiar smell from his cigars was still filling the room even though he just put one out so he could have both hands on the job.

He got a notification on his phone, and he picked it up and looked at it as you went down to kissing his neck.

"Princess, Mikey says we're going out to eat after the meeting tonight. You're coming with me."

You lifted your mouth, and the glitter from your lip gloss that had transferred to his skin was still on your lips, just making a smeared mess on the bottom half of your face. "Are there gonna be any other girls there?"

"Why? You don't wanna hear us talking about the way we handle our business? You gonna get squirmish when you here about the next motherfucker we have to handle?"

"Yes. That's exactly why."

Your whine of confirmation made him chuckle. "I'll make sure the other guys bring their girls."

"Okay, I'll go pick out my outfit."

He was thinking that you could've at least let him bust one, but he let you get off of his lap and scurry off, knowing that your outfit was gonna be promiscuous enough for him to do that later.

Night came, and the bubblegum haired male stood near the front door as he waited for you. "Hurry the hell up, Y/N!"

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" You scurried towards him, zipping your purse up on your way.

"Sanzu, do I look fine? Is my skirt too short?"

He looked up from his phone to examine you. You wore a pink vinyl skirt that had a belt built into it, wearing a white mini cardigan that was only buttoned in the middle, a pink push up bra that matched your skirt being worn under it.

"Mmm, turn around for me." When you obliged to this and did a twirl, he cupped a handful of all of that ass you were displaying for the world.

"Sanzu!" You exclaimed.

"Nah, it's not too short, baby. It's perfect. Let's go."

hile you quietly bantered with the other two girls while you waited for those aggressive men to finish talking about their crimes, you were kind of getting cold, so you were so grateful for the warmer air that engulfed you when you all arrived at the restaurant.

It was a loud atmosphere that was filled with music and people laughing. You and the girls sat at the bar while the guys bantered and drunk beer at their large table.

"Hey, Sanzu, which one of the ladies over there is yours again?" A guy who was already pretty intoxicated asked.

Taking a short glance over to where you sat at the bar as he sipped from his beer, he looked back and answered with, "Mine's the slut."

They all knew who he was talking about even though it wasn't direct. "Aw, man! That's what I thought! Her skimpy little outfit matches your hair!"

"Hey, ladies!" A different guy called to you three from across the restaurant. You turned to look towards the table. "Come over here and be with your guys! Don't be strangers!"

You girls got off the barstools and came over to the table. "Everything alright, baby?" Your soft voice asked Sanzu as you stood by his chair.

"Yeah, I just might have to gouge someone's eyes out though, since these no-goods just wanted to see all this fat ass that belongs to me move when you walked over." He gripped your asscheek and jiggled it in his hand for all of them to see, exciting an ovation from the guys.

Then, you sat down in his lap for the rest of the night as he chatted, sitting pretty right there until you guys left at the end of the night.

In the car ride, you didn't make a sound. Only noise filling the car was the music played as he rubbed your thigh.

He kissed on your neck and watched it in the full body mirror, his hands cupping and squeezing your ass. You were more still than usual, keeping your hands steady on his chest as he played with you.

"What's wrong, baby? You're quiet."

You loved when Sanzu showed that he cared, but you were hesitant with your answer. "I didn't... I didn't like how I was treated earlier."

He lifted his face up from the space between your jaw and shoulder to look into your eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The way you grabbed my ass in front of all of your guys. It made me feel like I was a piece of meat or something."

His look of sincerity transformed into a vexed one. "If you don't wanna be treated like a slut, don't walk out the house with all your assmeat hanging out."

You jaw dropped, and he saw that familiar look of a sad puppy's in your eyes. "You said I looked good!"

"You do look good, and that's why I wanted to show you off. Because I know you were looking good for me, and only me. What's the harm in showing my buds that all this ass is mine? What the hell do you want from me?"

That's when the tears started rolling. "N-Nevermind. Act like I didn't say anything."

"No, don't do that. Don't cry." He was mean as hell, but he didn't like seeing his pretty girl upset. So he wiped your tears with those firm hands of his, even while they kept falling.

"You'd rather me worship this ass of yours in private, princess? I just wanna show you off to the world. Is that so bad?"

"It's not bad. I'm sorry, Sanzu."

"No, I'm sorry for making you sad, baby." He got down on his knees, and used a grip on your waist to turn you around and face the mirror.

He lifted the skirt up and the only thing occupying your ass now was the thong wedged between your cheeks. Kisses and squeezes were placed all over your ass, and then he pulled the black strap of the thong to the side and dove in.

"Fuck, Sanzu—" His other hand was at your front, and he was pumping two fingers in and out of you, making a creamy mess for him to lick up.

He was a proud munch. Anything to make his girl happy. He loved eating your ass up, humming and moaning at the delicious taste while he ran his tongue up, down, and all around your asshole. Your asscheeks were squeezing him in, and that just made the bulge in his suit pants that much larger and strained.

"Who's this ass for, baby?"

"It's yours, Sanzu. I'm sorry, baby. I'm okay with you showing me off."

"That's right. You're my work of art. Now I want my masterpiece to keep grinding and cumming on my tongue, alright?"

MITSUYA

Your boyfriend's always so busy. You know he still loves you, but he doesn't often have the time to show it. But when he does, he spoils you.

He started the day off with surprising you at your apartment. Even though you had just woken up to the sound of his knocks on the door, you opened it for him in your bonnet and eye boogers.

All the energy entered your body though when you saw him with a stuffed animal he made for you and a bag of groceries that he just bought, prepared to make you some breakfast.

After downing the omelet and french toast he treated you with, you got ready for a trip to the mall that he decided to take you to. A few scents were bought, a few candles, a few crystals. Now it was time for clothes.

You had him holding a large amount of clothes that you picked out. Seeing each other in person couldn't compare to anything else. You two had spent all day chatting and bantering as if you haven't texted everyday.

That's why he just decided to come into the dressing room with you when you were trying on clothes, sitting on the bench and handing you the items when you needed them, helping you with zippers as well.

"Those jeans make you look thick as hell, honey." He grabbed your ass and shook it for you to watch in the mirror, and you exclaimed in shock as you swatted him away.

"This dress is so sexy. You're wearing it for dinner tonight. I can't wait to take it off of you."

"Taka, calm all that dick energy down." Usually Mitsuya isn't this vocal with horny compliments. Everybody else sees him as the kind, thoughtful, and respectful man he is. You're the only one who gets to see this freaky side.

"Oh, I don't remember grabbing this." You picked up a baby blue pleated skirt. You had an alternative style, and you liked showing skin, but this skirt's length pushed your limit.

"Really? How'd that get there then? Crazy."

Mitsuya scratched his nape and chuckled, and you glanced over to him with confusion that was more genuine than the confusion he was trying to put on.

"You should totally try it on though. The color's cute."

You thought, why not? It was worth a shot. And if you didn't like it, nobody would see it but you and your man.

When you got it on, you looked at yourself in the mirror with uncertainty. With the slightest movement of you bending down, the pink lace of your panties would be seen. "Taka, this is so revealing."

He stood up with his hands in his pockets, watching as you turned around and looked at the skirt's effect on your ass in the mirror. "I think it makes you look cute."

"How so? Because I look like a slut?"

"Exactly."

Your mouth fell open. "Takashi, if you're feeling frisky, this is not the place."

"Why not? I just missed touching and loving on my girlfriend. Why should I have shame about that?"

You didn't say anything, just watching as he walked closer to you. "Bend over a little more for me, honey."

You slowly did what he said, all the baby pink mesh that covered your ass being reflected in the mirror. He rubbed your soft brown ass in circles, and then he unbuckled his belt.

You felt his long wood bounce off of your ass, and you whimpered when he grabbed you by your hips and pulled your ass against his exposed groin. You watched in the mirror as he slid his dick under your panties, the wetness from his tip's precum dampening a spot on the clothing.

He moaned in satisfaction to the feeling of your asscheeks on his length. "Taka, what if someone hears?"

"I could care less." He pulled his dick out from under your panties, and then he pulled the fabric down your legs and let you step out of them. After the garment was left there on the floor, he grabbed you by the side of your neck and pulled you closer to him by the side of your neck. That's when he sunk in, and he watched your parted lips release that cry when his dick started to hit your g-spot over and over again.

"What if someone hears, Y/N? You want someone to see me fucking this pussy?" He whispered in your ear, kissing the skin under it.

"Shiiitttt." It rarely occurred, but you loved when he got all naughty like this. You missed him just as much as he missed you, but you wanted to show him that at night. It seems that he couldn't wait, though.

"I love this pussy, baby. I love you." He rambled as he placed sloppy kisses all up and down your jaw and neck.

"I love you too, Taka. I needed you so bad." Those strokes of his made your eyes tear up, but you still watched everything he did in the mirror. His larger body engulfing yours, filling you up. Your dripping heat spilled your mess all down your legs and his. The idea of someone seeing just made it all the more arousing.

He was getting more breathy, and the pumps of his dick were chasing a higher high. His eyes shut, and the hold he had on your breast was getting tighter and tighter. "I'm close."

"Cum inside, baby. I need all of it."

Your hand was on the back of his purple hair, holding him close as you felt his throbbing dick leave his whole load buried deep inside of you. When he pulled out, the concoction of your cream and his nut spilled out of you and made a mess on his cock.

He leaned over to the bench and picked up something else. You saw that it was a dark purple lingerie set. "Oh my gosh, when did you pick that up??"

"Next, I'ma need a nut out of you in this."

CHIFUYU

"Baby, I'm home!"

You heard him, but you didn't respond as you laid curled up on your side on the bed in the dark bedroom. Light invaded this darkness when he walked in and flipped the light switch though. "Princess, are you still mad at me?"

Still no words from you with your back turned towards him. "I know you're not asleep. Don't even try to play that."

No response. You stayed in that position until he made you move. He did this by grabbing the waistband of your shorts and panties and start to bring them down. "Fuyu, what are you doing?"

You sat up and tried to kick him away, your pussy and ass now being bare atop the comforter. "I bought you something nice while I was out. I know you said we don't spend as much time as you want together, so I got something I thought would be fun."

It was a struggle, but he successfully got you out of your bottoms and threw them on the floor. "It's gonna require you changing into it though."

"Fuyu, you're such an idiot!" You slapped his arm, and he winced as he rubbed it.

"Ouch! Sorry that I'm trying to save this relationship! I don't even get why you're so mad at me!" He grabbed the bottom hem of your oversized shirt and pulled you out of it. He was able to see your titties springing out as he threw the shirt that was originally his to the side.

You folded your arms across your chest, hiding your breasts from him, "I already told you why I'm mad! You planned a hangout during the day we were supposed to hangout, Fuyu!"

"It was just Michi and the guys! I was only out for like 3 hours! I'm back now! Can't you be happy about that?"

"No! It's been so long since we had a day together and that's what you do? We were supposed to be doing nothing all day! I just wanted to do nothing with you, Fuyu! Why can't you understand that? God, I hate you!"

You were tearing up as you talked to him, but you turned on your side and laid back down once you finished yelling.

He didn't wanna see his baby upset. Now he felt like an idiot for not thinking about where you were coming from. The smooth skin of his palm rubbed your thigh, "Don't lie, baby. That's mean. Can you try this on for the guy you hate so much?"

He passed you a bag, and you looked in it, but then laid back down. "Please, mommy." He opened your legs and nuzzled his face in your fuzzy glory, and all you saw was his big sea-green eyes pleading up at you when he placed kisses all on your pussy lips and clit.

"Move." You grabbed him by his hair and moved him from in between your legs, picking the bag up and walking to the bathroom.

It took you a while to get into the outfit. He was left on the bed for over half an hour, watching TV as he waited, but the wait was completely worth it. When you walked out of the bathroom, you were wearing the preppy blue plaid skirt and the white crop rib-knit sweater he bought for you. Your long legs were on display, and if you were to make the slightest of a movement, he would see your fat pussy out in the open.

You got all dolled up for him, beating your face and putting your glasses on to go with the character. Your black hair was in a messy ponytail, and you twirled the strand that you had out in the front around your finger as you stood there nervously. "Fuyu, you got this skirt a little bit too short."

He sat up to look at you, and his boner was increasing by the second. He knew he was annoying. That's how his relationship with you works. But you could act like you hated him all you wanted, but you really loved him. If you didn't, you wouldn't have put these clothes on for him. "Nah, it's perfect, princess. Come over here for me."

Your thighs slid past each other as you walked over. You stood there with your hands behind your back, looking at him while he looked at you. He was pulling himself out of his sweatpants, "Hit a 180."

You turned around as he told you, and his next instruction was, "Make all that move for me, pretty."

You swung your hair over your shoulder, leaning down with your hands on your knees. He didn't know how you could do magic like this, but he knew he loved to watch the show. With his dick in his hand, he got off to the little effort you needed to use to make that fat ass ripple and clap for him.

Then he stood up and got behind you, his hands on your waist with his dick against your ass. "Keep going, baby. I wanna feel you."

With your fingers on your toes, you kept shaking it for him, the feeling of his cock between your cheeks making you want more, and he heard your eagerness with the moans you were trying to keep in. "Is this idiot who you hate so much making you feel good?"

"Yes, love. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay." He slid inside your wet folds, and you squealed to the sensation, your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"I love you baby. I love being around you. I love fucking you. I love feeling you. I need more of you."

He starts rambling as soon as he gets inside, but you liked it. He was a horny idiot, but he was your horny idiot. "I love you too, honey. Take it. It's all yours."

Pump after pump led to him jutting his hips like a mad man into you and moaning and whimpering while your soaked pussy leaked on the carpet. "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" He repeated, neediness in his tone as he dug his fingers into your sides.

You and him both let out synchronized moans as he filled you up, continuously pumping his hips into that hole until he let it all out.

His dick sprung out of you when he pulled out, and then he backed up and sat down on the bed, his chest heaving as he took his shirt off. You backed up on him, aligning his cock with your hole and getting ready to sit on it despite his protests.

"Y/N, please! Give me a second!"

"I need to fuck it, baby." That was your last warning before dropping that ass down on him mercilessly.

"Shit!"

DRAKEN

"Y/N, if you keep changing what you wanna wear, you're gonna be late to your friend's birthday dinner."

"She'll understand!" You answered as you looked through your clothing rack in the closet. Too many problems! If you wore this dress — the fourth variation of this outfit so far — you would be outshowing your homegirl on her birthday! You just had to find something else.

"Fuck it. I'll be on the couch."

He left the room and went downstairs, and Draken doesn't usually lose his patience with you, so this act just made you wanna rush even more.

15 minutes passed, and then he heard you running down the stairs. "Y/N, did you dress for rain? It's gonna start coming down later." Your boyfriend stated as he scrolled through his phone in the dark living room. Illumination led into the area from the foyer's chandelier.

You didn't care about the weather. All you cared about right now was if you looked good. You looked at yourself in this mirror in the foyer, but you just couldn't get with it. You put your purse on the console table and ran back upstairs. "Where are you going? You look fine!"

"My skirt stops at an awkward length! This is the last change, I promise!"

He huffed in displeasure and rubbed his temples. Five minutes later, you were making your way back downstairs. "Okay, I'm ready baby! Do you like it?"

You did a Tinkerbell twirl, and when you finished the 360, you expected for him to cheer you on, but when you saw his face, you could tell that his temper arisen. You were confused. You expected him to cool off once you got finished getting ready. "What's wrong? Do you not like the outfit? I put so much work in it though."

"You're crazy if you think I'm letting you leave the house like this."

Offense took over your visage as he stood up and walked over to you. "Draken, seriously?!"

He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, and all you could see was his legs and the stairs as he ascended them while you protested, feeling the cool air touching your ass.

He put you down in the bedroom. "Change."

"Draken, no! Quit it!" You pushed his chest but he didn't budge in the slightest.

"I'm being nice. Put what you had on earlier back on."

"Why should I listen to you? Shit, you always wanna control something!" Darkness plagued his eyes, but you tried not to show that his stature scared you.

He didn't say anything, his nostrils flaring with the breath he took. He picked you up and threw you on the bed, making you yell out as he folded you over the side of the bed. His large hand met your ass in a smack. "Drakeeeeen, quit it!"

"Your friends are gonna be wondering why we'll be late."

"Then just let me go!" He had his hand on your lower back, keeping you pressed down on the mattress. Pulling your panties to the side with quickness, he dove his fingers into your soaked cunt.

"Baby, please!"

"You only seem to understand me when you're cumming. I told you I don't want you wearing this skimpy ass skirt, got it?"

You only let out moans, not a confirmation as you gripped the comforter, rocking back onto his hand. "Did you hear me?" His deep voice asked, leaning down to be eye to eye with you.

You turned to face the other day, "You're so mean, Ken."

"I don't give a fuck if I'm mean. You know what you're dating, and I don't play this shit."

Tears clouded your vision when you turned to look at him again, the sounds of your wet pussy meshing with the noise from the raindrops outside. "I'm sorry, baby. I really am."

"You are? Really?"

"I aaammm! I'll put the other skirt back on."

"That's a good girl. Show me you really mean it and cum on my fingers a few times, yeah?"

You complied to everything he told you to do, from changing your outfit to cumming on his fingers 3 times.

Draken was so sweet to you. Even after breaking you in, he held the umbrella for you as you two walked to the car under the rain. You were starting to feel bad as you sat in the passenger seat, the music playing lowly on the speakers as he drove with one palm on the wheel.

He heard a click come from your seat as he stopped at a red light. "Why are you unbuckling your seatbelt? Put it back on. You know people like to brake-check coupes like this one."

"I'm sorry Draken." You were reaching over the center console, and as he asked, "What are you doing?" You stopped him with a soft kiss on his lips.

"I've been a bad girlfriend. You're so good to me. I'm sorry for acting the way I do." You had genuine despondence in your voice while you unbuckled his belt.

"Wh-- Y/N, no. Not now."

He knew you were still a brat no matter what. That no didn't mean anything to you. You still took his cock out of his briefs, looking him in his eyes as you licked your hand, and for him to be so against it, he was actively hardening as you stroked it.

You heard him breathe out a groan when his tip entered the warm nook of your mouth. The change in pigment of the traffic light spread a sheet of green illumination over his face. A wet pop was heard when you lifted your mouth off of him, "Green means go, baby."

"God." For once, other cars were passing Draken up and he was obeying every traffic law as you throated him. He had to focus on making you tap out from thinking you could take his heavy dick down your throat like this.

He had your hair in his hold, and he knew that if you could talk, you would say, "Baby, not the closure!" But he didn't care. Tears were welling in your eyes as he helped your head go up and down on his length.

His dick was curving and tunneling deep into your mouth, hitting your uvula and making you whimper as he let out deep moans. He was holding you so steady as you took him, and your mouth just felt so full as he started pulsating in your mouth at a red light. This gave him the window to hold you with both hands as he jutted his hips up once as his pearly white nut flooded your mouth.

When you lifted up, a little bit of his cum spilled onto your lips, making itself your second layer of lip gloss. He ran his hand through your hair as he looked into your eyes, "You really wanna show me you're sorry? Swallow it all."

Your doe, tear-filled eyes looked up into his as you gulped, and then you put your tongue out, showing him that you cleaned your plate.

He grinned, "Now get back in your seat. Put on your seatbelt before you fly into the windshield."

When you got to the restaurant, it was okay that you two were a little bit behind schedule, because your homegirl was so happy and sweet on her birthday.

"There go Y/N! Thank you guys for coming!" A full hug was given to you while a side hug was given to Draken.

"Anything for you, girl. Here's your gift." You handed her the gift bag that had a nice necklace inside.

She looked you up and down with flattery, "This fit is cute! Wait, you know that one white denim skirt that you picked up when we went shopping a while back? Sis, that would've tied this up perfectly."

Your eyes widened and glanced over to Draken, and his tongue was poking through his cheek as he looked back at you. "Draken actually wasn't too fond of that one."

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god-has-entered-my-body · 5 months

Text

We started losing light - M.H x Reader // pt.2

A/N: TW for vomit, please take care of yourselves! I wrote most of this in one go, i'm sorry if there are any spelling/wording mistakes. It gets angsty, lots of yelling bla bla. Adams a cunt in this one. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading once again❤️

wc: 7k

part three

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not.

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking.

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes.

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from.

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss.

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face.

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish.

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air.

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!”

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think.

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices.

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump.

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’ you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater.

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus.

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use.

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water.

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back.

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it.

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment.

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have.

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly.

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free.

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller.

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go.

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn.

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache.

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks.

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new.

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight.

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her.

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him.

Him and a girl.

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her?

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it.

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met.

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days.

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone.

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him.

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home?

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours.

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.”

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam.

George fumbled with the key to the shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket).

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you look for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat.

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy, a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him.

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it.

‘never again’ you thought.

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently.

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk.

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed.

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him.

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat.

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments.

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!”You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off.

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different?

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back.

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door.

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked.

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.”

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable.

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?”

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink.

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next.

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely.

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter.

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you.

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom.

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view.

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense.

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her.

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler.

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo.

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now.

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it.

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it.

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not.

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell.

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you.

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you.

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink.

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis.

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle.

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much.

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you.

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change.

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest

You're just drunk, stop it.

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him.

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries.

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart.

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening.

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off.

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up.

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter.

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him.

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous.

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs.

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety?

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now.

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality.

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy.

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city.

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present.

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be?

#oh god #i really like this one actually #drunk matty is my fav to write #well except the part where he yells at girlie #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy x you #matty the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction

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thissortofsorcery · 1 year

Text

@intothedysphoria has inspired me to write about autistic!harringrove, and my own experiences with autism... Max, this is for you! I hope you like it!

tw for anxiety and sensory overwhelm, but it ends fluffy, I promise.

---

It started as a normal day, but it quickly derailed from there.

An asshole at work approached Billy from behind and clapped his hand around the nape of his neck, despite Billy having told him several times he didn’t like that.

Billy didn’t like being touched at all, by most people. And some people had no concept of personal space.

A horrible, painful shiver cut through his spine, icy cold and almost slimy, and Billy held back a shudder. He broke out in goosebumps, and only years and years of practice, of putting on the charm let him pull away from the dickhead graciously, laugh at whatever he said and keep himself together until he could hide away in a bathroom stall.

Billy presses his fingers to his closed eyes hard, seeing stars, and rubs the back of his neck vigorously, trying to replace that cold shiver with something else. Tears spring to his eyes, and he feels so fucking frustrated.

Finding out you’re autistic in your twenties is an experience. A lot of things start making sense, and a lot of things you pushed down and convinced yourself weren’t a problem spring back up like a jack-in-the-box, a hundred times worse.

Like the touch thing. It’s not that Billy doesn’t like being touched. He just doesn’t like being touched by people he doesn’t know, and for no reason.

Like, his physical therapist, when she was helping him regain dexterity in his hands after Starcourt, that was fine.

Some dude in the office touching his neck, even casually, not so much.

Billy takes a deep breath, tries to remember the self-care workbook he and Steve filled out together a couple months ago. Tries to calm down.

Three ways I can distract myself when someone touches me, he’d written, glancing back up at Steve with a smile. Happy they were doing it together.

Loud music + puzzle

Hot drink

Yelling

Steve laughed and shook his head (“it’s very you”) when Billy wrote down the last one, but it really did help.

Billy gives himself a few more moments in the stall before he slinks out, heading to the sinks and splashing cold water on his face. The sensory shock helps a little, the cool, pleasant feeling helping balance the sensation of something crawling under his skin.

He checks if the break room is empty before he goes in, and it thankfully is. He doesn’t want to run into anyone. Doesn’t think he has it in him to mask right now.

Billy makes himself a mug full of scalding hot coffee and hurries back to his office, avoiding eye contact with anyone who throws out a hello. So what if they think he’s angry. Maybe he is pissed.

He manages to spend the rest of the day locked in his office, headphones on, and only comes out when it’s time to go home.

Of course, all he wants is to see Steve, wants his comforting presence, even if they’ve been dating only three months. When he walks through the door of Steve’s house, he sees Steve sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, wearing his ugly vomit green socks with raccoons on them, that he’s had since he was 15 and won’t get rid of.

A wave of relief crashes through him, nearly leaving him dizzy. He breathes deep, catches the smell of his clean house, laundry, and Steve.

“Hey baby,” Steve calls, laying his head on the back of the couch to look at him, making his glasses just a little bit crooked. “Bad day?”

“Does my face look that terrible?” Billy grumbles, taking his shoes off at the entryway before he steps into the living room.

“Your headphones are around your neck,” Steve points to them, a smile ticking up the corner of his mouth.

Oh. Billy forgot to put them away. He doesn’t need them in the car.

He sighs and throws himself down next to Steve, a careful, deliberate distance away.

“I’m just ‘whelmed,” Billy mumbles.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Not anymore. Just whelmed,” He says, sighing again. His body sags, melting against the cushions. He doesn’t feel shivery anymore, but he feels tired, like he’s on the bad end of an all-nighter.

Steve puts his hand on the cushion between them, palm up, not touching Billy.

Billy takes a deep breath, watching Steve’s hand. He knows that hand intimately, knows it to be warm and soft and kind, knows how its skin feels against Billy’s, the friction making the shivers good instead of bad.

He puts a tentative fingertip on Steve’s pointer finger, and all Steve does is press back, smiling gently.

Billy slides his fingers in between Steve’s, laces them together, holds his hand palm to palm, and feels the touch of his skin like they’re buzzing together.

Billy knows he can change his mind, and all Steve’s gonna do is smile, sit on his side of the couch, and continue the conversation.

“How’s that book you were working on going?” Steve asks. He rubs his thumb over the back of Billy’s hand once, and stops. When Billy squeezes his hand, he resumes the movement, sending pleasant tingles up Billy’s arm.

“Good. The writer was receptive to what I said. They sent me a couple reworked chapters today,” Billy says, moving closer to Steve, so their arms press together.

As the conversation goes on, Billy presses closer and closer, at his own pace, and Steve accepts it crumb by crumb.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Steve, or how Steve is so patient with him. Steve loves physical contact. Billy does, too, but he’s so particular about it that sometimes he wonders if he’s even worth sticking around for.

Billy ends up lying on top of Steve, chest to chest, nose tucked into his throat, breathing in his warmth and his scent.

“Don’t touch my neck, okay?” He asks, hunching his shoulders a little.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says, easy as that. “Can I touch your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Steve turns his head and kisses Billy’s head, right on the hairline, pulling a deep, content sigh from him.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Billy says, squeezing his ribs just a little tighter. “For doing this for me. Being patient.”

Steve looks down at him, frowning slightly.

“‘Course. You shouldn’t— You don’t have to thank me,” He says, earnest. “It’s not a chore, Billy. You’re not…” He licks his lips, trying to think. When he looks at Billy, it's like he's telling him a secret. “You make me happy. All of you.”

Billy’s smile is wide, stretching his full lips and showing his teeth, and Billy only drops it so he can kiss Steve.

They keep it chaste, an unhurried, soft press of lips, enjoying their intimacy and their closeness and their familiarity. Simple as it is, it's one of the best kisses he's had. Steve's the best person he's ever met.

When Steve touches him, he feels safe. Billy wants to keep him.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #autistic billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #billy x steve #sorcery writes #mine

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Text

Distance: Roy Kent x Reader

Tagging: @anyamcdonald @elizabeththebat

Roy isn’t looking forward to seeing your name pop up on his phone. He dreads the conversation the two of you are about to have because he knows you’ve seen the papers. He pauses in the corridor that leads to the locker room, his thumb hovering over the button to receive your call. This is not discussion he wants to have in front of all the other shitheads. He grasps the doorknob of the Boot Room instead, steeling himself for the stench before he steps inside.

The screen lights up and he sees your face. It makes something ache in his chest because despite the fact it’s only been a week, he misses you ferociously. You’re in Ireland at the current moment, researching one of the episodes for your true crime podcast and his bed has never felt so empty. He sleeps with his face pressed into your pillow. It’s pathetic.

For a moment he forgets about last night, about his bad behaviour at yet another charity event, that he was forced to attend to appease one of his endorsements. Something about Saving the Pandas or that shit. Instead, he focuses on you and how fucking beautiful you look in a peach coloured robe that leaves very little to his imagination. He wishes he was there with you, fingers untying that knot, the one that holds the whole thing together.

“Hey.” He says softly as he sits down upon the bench.

“Hi.” You return, tucking your damp hair back behind your ear. “I think you forgot to mention something when you called last night.”

“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t?” He asks you half-heartedly.

“I’ve seen the pictures.” You inform him, your chin coming to rest upon your hand.

“You know they don’t tell the whole story.” He reminds you.

“Roy,” You say in that tone of yours, the one he fucking hates because it makes him feel like he’s being completely irrational. “You headbutted a Booker Prize Winner at a Save the Polar Bear event.”

Polar Bears, not Pandas. He fucking knew it was some kind of bear.

“No.” He corrects you. “I headbutted your ex-boyfriend because he was being a little prick.”

There’s silence between the two of you, he sees you purse your lips together and he sighs because he knows what’s coming, you’re going to ask what he said, and Roy does not want to repeat it. He would rather endure a thousand laps of the fucking pitch that recount the words that came out of that dickhead’s mouth. He doesn’t give a shit that he lost his sponsor, that he made a scene and now he’s the nation’s bad boy. All that matters is you, you knowing that he has your back no matter what.

“You’re not going to tell me what he said are you?”

“No, I’m fucking not.” He tells you, shaking his head.

To be fair he had tried to walk away, he really had but Martin just couldn’t fucking help himself. Of course, your ex had seen that picture of the two of you, the one that the papers had run of him kissing you on the doorstep. You’d managed to keep it on the downlow up until that point. He hadn’t wanted your life to get any more complicated. He had gotten pretty good at dodging the paparazzi but there must have been one camped out.

That kiss…

It had been fucking filthy. You’d ended up coming back into the house and fucking him in the hallway, you didn’t even take your dress off. It had been the day you were travelling to Ireland, and he knows you felt the same way as he did, like you were losing something. You were only going away for a few weeks but you both hate the distance. You’ve become a fixture in his life, a grounding force and Roy’s not afraid to admit that.

“Fuck Roy, I’m sorry…” You begin and he holds his hand up to cut you off because he will not tolerate you apologising for something that wasn’t your fault.

“I’m a big boy.” He tells you forcefully. “I make my own decisions and my decision was to headbutt that gobshite.”

He sees your lips twitch up into a smile and he knows he’s won you over. You know as well as he does what a prick Martin is, it’s why you broke up with him in the first place. That and the fact you caught him fucking a page three model in your bed. Some people really are just cunts.

“Now I need to know yea? Did the nun really burn down the orphanage or was it someone else?” He asks you, referring back to the case you’re working on. “Because that shit has been playing on my mind all morning.”

“You wanna hear what I have so far?” You ask him, picking up your notepad and flicking through the pages. Roy leans back against the shelves, shifting on the bench so he can get a little more comfortable because he is dying to hear the rest of this story. When he hung up with you last night, you were still working on the narrative and refused to share anything after the ad break because it was too raw.

“Yes.” He tells you. “I fucking would.”

Love Roy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#roy kent x you #roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months

Text

Light on the Darkside - Chapter Five.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added/removed.

Words - 3,037

Warnings - 18+ throughout. Topics cover depression, suicide and eating disorders. Minors DNI!

“Well, I have to say I’m pleased with your progress, James. Lately, you’ve appeared brighter, although there are a few issues we need to iron out with your behaviour towards authority. I need not remind you that you must do as the orderlies ask of you. I hear you’ve made a friend as well, which is very positive. I must note though, despite all this good work, you don’t appear to be all too chipper today. Shall we discuss that?”

“Nah.”

It was one step forward and two steps back with this young man half the time, Dr. Beaumont thought, watching him slumped down in the chair before her. His long legs were stretched out, his hoodie pulled up to partially conceal his face. That was one of the little tell-tale signs with his mood, she’d noticed. If it was bad, he had a tendency to hide within it.

“James, we cannot progress in your therapy if you continue to bottle up these feelings. It is much more conducive to your recovery to get them out.”

Chewing his lip, he shrugged, eyes not moving away from the window to meet hers as he began to frown. “Don’t wanna progress. It’d just be easier if I weren’t here at all. It’s all total bullshit, innit.”

Oh, he was back there again, emotionally absconded to his depressive void. “And what is it that’s brought this on?”

“Stuff.”

“An elaboration would be helpful to me, James. I can’t help you if you continually refuse to open up to me. This is very frustrating, given all the recent progress you’ve been making,” she tried, her tone firm but gentle.

Truly, there was only one person he wanted to tell. The person who didn’t study him like a lab rat while scribbling notes, the person who knew only too well how that felt. He shut down completely for the rest of his therapy session, and although she did not want to reward such, his recent good behaviour had earned him something she couldn’t take off the table. It could likely make him worse if she did, she reasoned.

“Well, although our session has not moved forward in the way I’d hoped, I can tell you that due to your recent improved behaviour, we’ve decided to give you grounds privileges.”

“Cheers for that.” His tone might’ve still been flat, but he was out of his seat like a shot in order to go and enjoy them, she guessed. Perhaps such might make him open up more during their next session, give a little back for the reward he’d been handed. She could only hope.

“Oi, little,” he called upon arriving at the common room door. “Wanna come for a walk?”

Ella’s head shot up from where she was sitting with Andrea and Emma, a new girl admitted for symptoms much matching his own. “What, you can actually go outside?”

“Yup.”

“Ahh, cool beans! Let’s go!”

Turning, Andrea pulled a kissy face at him. “Can I come, too? I know all the spots we can hide and have a bit of fun.”

“Andrea,” Tracy warned, shaking her head, “that’s one.”

“Not in the mood, Andrea,” James spoke, frowning.

“Moody bloody goth,” she tutted.

“Slag.”

“James! You’ll have those grounds privileges revoked if you carry on with that mouth,” Tracy warned him, being met with an eyeroll as Ella arrived with him, giving him a little poke in the chest with her finger.

“Stop being a dickhead, church burner,” she warned lightly, her joke falling very flat, his face remaining sullen. God, he looked so gorgeous when he was grumpy. Well, to Ella he looked gorgeous all the time, but she kept that to herself. There was absolutely no way somebody like him would ever fancy her. “What’s up?”

“Tell you in a bit.”

Accepting that, they neared the doors, both having to sign out in the book on their way before James stepped into his first taste of semi-freedom in three months. The fresh air felt great, the sunshine warm on his face, taking a deep breath he held before exhaling it slowly. He still felt shit, but being outside made it a little better, as did the nudge at his side. Opening his eyes, he saw a cigarette offered to him, Ella lighting her own before handing over her lighter.

He took a long drag, inhaling, feeling his nerves buzz. “Shitting hell, that’s better.” There were several rolling banks undulating the grounds, the pair walking down to the second before taking a seat on the neatly mown grass, James lying back while Ella sat with her knees drawn up at his side.

“So, why isn’t my BFG a happy camper?” BFG to her stood for big friendly goth. It had made him laugh, the first time she’d coined it a few days prior. Sadly, at that moment it had no similar effect whatsoever.

“I called Steve yesterday, and he was playing me rough recordings of songs he’d been working on. Did the guitar bits himself, and it sounded way better than anything I could have come up with. So like, what’s the bloody point? He can do a better job than I can, so I might as well not even be here. The band don’t need me, so fuck it. It was the only thing getting me through, innit. Fucking, yeah. That’s it.”

How perilous it was, the seesaw between hope and hopelessness James sat himself upon. “If Steve was that brilliant on guitar, then like, why were you even there at all to begin with? Because you’re obviously talented, and a vital part of Nocturnal Descent. Stop being silly. You’ve been so much better over the last three weeks. Surely, you’re not going to let a little bleedin’ thing like this set you back?”

He sighed, taking another long drag on his cigarette. “Ella, if I still feel like this when I’m up to my eyeballs in medication, then what fucking hope do I have?”

“None if you let the intrusive thoughts win,” she shrugged, reaching to stroke his arm fondly. “You can’t just like, let the medication do it all. You have to put some effort in, too.” Pausing, she considered her next words carefully. “Okay, so like, I’d get it if Steve had told you that they didn’t need you back, and that him, Snedders, Gaz and Dan were carrying on as a four piece without you, but he didn’t. This whole ‘nobody would miss me if I wasn’t here’ thing you have going on only exists in your head. It isn’t the truth.”

“Ain’t it?” he snorted, frown deepening.

“No!” she cried, waving her hands around. “By all accounts, your mates love you to death, so do your sister and your dad. Your mum, too, even though she’s a bit of a pain in the arse from what you’ve told me. So many people would miss you!” Pausing, she curled into herself more, dropping her gaze from the stormy grey of his eyes, turning her head to look out over the grounds. “I’d miss you, if you weren’t here. I’d really fucking miss you.”

How fond she’d truly grown of him in those short few weeks they’d begun to lean upon one another.

Continuing to look out at where the sunshine illuminated the grass, listening to the sound of the birds tweeting in the many tall trees dotted around the grounds, she felt like she hadn’t been heard for a few moments. A nervous feeling crept over her, heat rising in her cheeks, her arms tingling. Was that the wrong thing to say, to lament how much she’d miss him if he was gone? She realised it wasn’t when his hand met the bottom of her back, beginning to stroke where her long-sleeved t shirt had ridden up a little.

Watching where he flicked his finished cigarette past her, it smouldered to nothing in the grass, Ella stubbing her own out and turning to him with a little smile. Finally, he returned it.

“Come here, little. Give us a hug.” Resting her head to his chest, it slipped to his arm as he turned onto his side, enveloping her, pushing a strong thigh between hers. Comfort. Support. Someone who listened, and oh, how they’d found it in each other.

Closing her eyes, Ella burrowed her face against his chest, curling into him completely, her hand stroking over his pectoral muscle. Solid as rock. She bet he looked amazing under his t shirt. Pity she’d never likely find that out first hand. Oh, if only she knew what was going on in James’s brain right at that second as he held her close, feeling his insides beginning to spark.

“Oh, shitting hell. Don’t fucking kiss her, don’t do it, man. Seriously, ain’t gonna lead anywhere good... but fuck, at least I know my meds haven’t fucked with my sex drive now. Fucks sake! Can’t even think about that, I’d break her, she’s so tiny. Fucking shatter her pelvis to pieces, innit. Nah, don’t do it. It’ll make everything even more complicated. But shit, I want her badly.”

Meanwhile, Ella’s thoughts were much less of a maelstrom.

“God, I wish he’d kiss me. Bet I’m not pretty enough for him, though. He probably likes all those gorgeous goth girls who look like Morticia Addams.”

She didn’t dare look up at him, because she knew she’d do something stupid like kiss him, and the embarrassment of having him let her down wasn’t something she could deal with in her present state.

Why was life so unfair?

The silence they shared was a lot less comfortable than an outsider would likely think it looked. Although their brains shouted utter nonsense at them, bodily, curled up together, they were nothing but content.

“How’d you feel now?” Ella finally asked, her voice small, a little shy, even.

“Better, you know,” he confessed, thumb idly stroking her shoulder. “Always am when you’re around.”

She smiled. “I am the death repellent.”

“Kinda,” he sniffed. “Still wanna die, just a lot less. I dunno, you make sense of my thoughts when they’re all jumbled up. Not all of them, but most, innit.” He definitely couldn’t say what had begun creeping over him as he held her was helped by her at all. Oh no. She was the catalyst there.

The comfort of having her so close sadly didn’t outweigh the way his thoughts spiralled out of control, the flourish of desire for her mixed with his depressive episode not a good fit. Turning away, he resumed lying on his back, keeping one arm around her, the other reaching to pick at one of the rips on his jeans.

“Ahh, that’s it, then,” she thought, sitting up and curling her knees to her chest once more. “He had the perfect chance to kiss me just then, if he wanted to. We’re just mates and nothing else.”

“Looking all glum over there, little,” he noted, propping himself up on his elbows as he squinted against the sun. “Selfish dickhead, it’s my turn to be moody, not yours.”

“Shut your hole, church burner.”

Finally, he laughed. He’d never cease to find that funny.

They remained outside for another cigarette, chatting casually before heading back inside. Parting ways at the stairs, James revealed he was in need of a nap, telling her he’d catch up with her later that evening after dinner. Ella cut a sad little figure as she walked back to the common room alone.

He swung the door shut behind him, kicking off his boots and collapsing face first onto the bed, groaning long and low into the pillow.

“Not now, man. Get your head right before you start thinking about women. Don’t drag someone as lovely as her into your shit. She’s got her own issues without you trying to poke your dick in her.”

The part of his brain that had those staunch words with himself sadly went in stark contrast with the part that conjured the dream he found himself in after falling asleep, James unsure whether he actually was dreaming, it felt so real. If it wasn’t real, then he had no idea how he could feel the exact intensity and pleasure of receiving a blowjob if it wasn’t actually happening.

“Oi, you’re about to get us in a fuckload of trouble, little,” he told Ella, rumbling a chuckle as he looked down, watching his cock sliding back out from within the deep suck of her pretty mouth.

“As if you’re complaining about me sucking your dick,” she winked, her hand taking over as her lips pressed a kiss against the deep line of muscle creasing his hip. “Got a bleedin’ nerve, BFG.”

“Nah, I ain’t complaining at all,” he began, groaning when her mouth moved to swallow him back once more. Fuck, she was good. “It's just that checks are every fifteen minutes and I dunno how long ago the last one was. Doesn’t give us a lot of time.”

“Don’t need a lot of time. Trust me.” God, she wasn’t wrong, her mouth continuing to glide, her tongue pressing into the thick vein engorging his shaft, his hands moving to tangle in her hair. His chest began to heave, tingles rushing, gritting as with a soft curse, he came deep in her throat.

His head shot up off the pillow, wide awake and incredibly horny from the dream he’d just had, sighing and flopping down again. Nope. This couldn’t be anything he actively pursued. He knew himself and he knew he simply wasn’t well enough to begin letting thoughts creep in about women.

It didn’t stop them from doing so, though. And still, he couldn’t keep away from her, didn’t want to although he knew deep down that he probably should.

“What are you doing, princess?” he asked, lying on the sofa with his head in her lap the following afternoon.

“A little plait,” she replied, taking the strands of his beautiful hair and showing him. His hair was ridiculous. Part of hers had started falling out from her lack of eating, quite thin in comparison to how it used to be. James’s was like spun silk, very thick and now past his waist in length. Total dream hair.

“You fucking better not be making me look like Pocahontas!”

His barked statement made her snort with giggles. “No, I’ll undo it again in a bit. I just need something to fiddle with.”

“I don’t mind really,” he began, “you girls seem to have a thing for my hair. It looks shit right now, though. Brown roots ain’t a good look.”

She pointed to her own head. “Yep, with you there big time! I hate that they won’t let me bleach it. It’s pants, not cool beans by far. Someone like me needs as much as she can to look pretty!”

He arched an eyebrow, his lip curling. “What the shitting hell do you mean, someone like you?”

“You know,” she shrugged, coming to the end of the thin plait and twirling it around her finger before unpicking it again. “I’m not pretty.”

“Like fuck, you’re not,” he snorted. Again, she shrugged. “Do I need to have a few words with you about this, Ells bells?”

Ells bells, that was a new one. “You’re just being nice to make me feel better.”

“James isn’t ever nice unless he really means it,” Andrea spoke from behind the pages of Heat magazine, her ears picking up on everything as usual before offering her standard succinct commentary.

“And that’s the truth right there,” he stated, pointing at where Andrea sat cross legged opposite them on the other sofa. “Oh, sorry for calling you a slag. Didn’t mean it.”

“You did, and I am.” Lowering the magazine, the corner of her mouth curled up a little bit. “Appreciated, though.”

Turning his attention back to Ella, he shook his head, reaching for her face. “Fucking kills me, innit. How you don’t see what I do. Total fucking bullshit.”

She couldn’t get her mind past that he was merely trying to make her feel good about herself, but still, his statement made her heart thump. “And what do you see? Because all I see is a fat person who isn’t pretty at all.”

Sitting up, he took her hand and stood from the sofa, leading her from the common room and down the hallway. They signed out at the doors, the outside as grey as Ella’s mood, the threat of rain in the dark clouds above despite the warm temperature.

“Alright, wanna know what I see?” he began, stopping around the corner of the facility, where the path opened up to one of the car parks. “I don’t see a pretty girl, really. Suppose you’re right there. Ella, you ain’t pretty. You’re fucking beautiful. Those girls who picked on you in school and started this whole mess with how you see yourself, they knew you were beautiful, too. Just wanted to cut you down to make themselves feel better, innit.”

Her bottom lip began to wobble, her eyes glassing as she hugged herself, sniffing hard and riddled with discomfort. Beautiful. He’d called her beautiful. “I’m not, though.”

He sighed, one half his brain screaming at him to stop what he was about to do, the other half telling him fuck it. Go with it. “Top grade rubbish, that. Wanna know how I know?”

Again, she shrugged, her heart beating so rapidly, she felt queasy.

Reaching for her, he held her face in his big hands, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “I don’t kiss girls who aren’t beautiful.”

And then he did, Ella’s internal voice screaming with joy and disbelief, wrapping her arms around his neck as her insides truly, for the first time in months, began to bloom wildly. God, he was such a good kisser, her body humming with it, with him, his arms enveloping her slender frame, holding her closer.

As for James, he knew it probably wasn’t the best decision he could ever make, acting on what he felt for another person just as troubled as he was. For that moment, it definitely was the right one, though.

#original fiction #original stories #original story #smutty story #tw: depression #tw: anorexia

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yes-divine-ruler · 2 years

Text

Prove it - E.P

Summary: Evan and Y/N are co-stars, finding each-other insufferable on set. Until Evan makes a move that might change their professional relationship forever.

requested using prompts 3 & 4 from @/egofelix’s (deactivated) NSFW WRITING PROMPTS found on @/kitwalker02’s page

#3: "If you don't like my teasing, then why are you moaning?”

#4: “Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

CW: oral (f receiving)

Words: 1434

Evan Peters, my insanely hot but rude co-star stood by my side off set, his chin between his finger and thumb as he read through his script, mumbling to himself. I rolled my eyes, becoming increasingly annoyed by his persistent mumbling.

“On in 5,” the Assistant Director tapped me on the back, giving me a thumbs up as I turned to look at him.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment.

“Nervous Y/N?” I heard Evan’s voice mock me, opening my eyes again to glare at him.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, finding my position on set as the make up artist fussed over powdering my nose.

“Camera rolling,” the camera operator called, his face navigating in close to the screen.

I watched the director as he counted down from 5 on his hand, Evan just appearing in his spot on set. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes, I swear he didn’t take his job seriously.

“Action!”

“What are you rolling your eyes at?” Evan scowled, taking a step towards me.

“Cut! Evan!” The director got up from his chair, his hands up in the air in defeat, “we’re trying to film!”

I couldn’t help the smirk that curved my lips, stifling the laugh that tried to escape from them.

“She’s being a fucking bitch!” Evan spat, pointing a finger accusingly at me.

“You’re so soft Evan, can’t take a little eye roll?” I teased, placing my hands on my hips.

“You two! Take half an hour, we’re going to try this again later,” the director sat down again, his body slumping in his chair as if he was exhausted.

“When you get back I’m expecting a good fucking scene so we can all go home!” He howled, turning to his phone, deterring his attention away from us.

I sighed in exasperation, walking away from set and towards the dressing rooms. The dressing team finished for the day, the only scene we needed to film being the one Evan had just fucked up. I was tired and ready to go home, his intolerable behaviour setting us back. I sat in the corner of the first dressing room, looking myself over in the mirror.

“You happy with yourself?”

I turned to see Evan, his lips formed in a tight straight line.

“What are you talking about? You’re the dickhead,” I scoffed, turning back towards the mirror and using a spoolie on the table to comb my eyelashes.

“You’re so fucking rude all the time,” he had the cheek to say, causing me to rise out of my chair and face him menacingly.

“You’re the rude one, you do it on purpose to annoy me,” I said, throwing my hands up in disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Evan sneered, taking a step closer to me like he did on set. I didn’t back down, my stance firm as I glowered back at him.

“Then why do you do it?” I asked him, taking a step closer to him, narrowing my eyes.

“Because I give what I get,” he said proudly, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

“You give it first!” I couldn’t believe this guy, he was so full of arrogance, it spilled through him as he spoke.

“I can do no wrong,” he said very matter-of-factly, now only inches apart from one another. I hadn’t realised how close we were, I could almost feel the heat radiating off his body.

“You’re full of shit,” I scoffed again, turning my back to him and deciding I’d sit back in my chair and ignore him until we had to go on set again.

I was stopped, when his hand grabbed my elbow, pulling me back around to face him, our faces now so close I could see the freckles on his nose. I froze, his cool minty breath fanning my face.

“I’ll prove it,” he almost whispered, his chest moving in coordination with his steady breathing.

“I doubt that,” I still had the confidence to retort back to him, even though I could feel my heart pounding in my ears from how close we were again.

He leaned forward, his lips ghosting over mine, as he whispered “you wont be doubting that when I’m finished”.

His lips collided with mine. I took a second to respond, startled by his advancement towards me. But soon, I melted into the kiss, letting his lips assault mine in a fiery exchange. His big hands gripped onto my waist, pulling me into his chest, my arms instinctively wrapping themselves around his neck.

His tongue evaded my mouth, my fingers tangling in the back of his hair, pulling on it softly. He groaned, backing me up against the dresser, his hand coming up from my waist and cupping my breast through my clothes.

“Let me take it off,” he demanded, tugging on the bottom of my shirt and pulling it above my head.

His lips worked at the skin on my neck, trailing heavy, salivary kisses down to my collarbone. I moaned softly, his warm hands wrapping around my back and working to unclasp my bra.

He tossed my bra to the side, his lips connecting with one of my nipples. I gasped at his touch, as he backed me up further so I was seated on the dresser. He sucked softly, working at my other nipple with his forefinger and thumb.

“Evan, oh my god,” I moaned, knowing now inside me that his mouth and fingers felt better than I’d ever imagined. I came down from my high for a second, realising that my insufferable co-star had made a move on me, and I was falling for it like a sick puppy.

“Evan!” I yelled, pushing him away softly, his head lifting from my breast.

“What?”

“We can’t do this,” I replied while crossing my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling self conscious by my exposed breasts.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?” He said suggestively, moving down to his knees. I blushed bright red, as his fingers traced my upper inner thighs. It was like a cat caught my tongue.

“Do you like it when I touch you like that?” He mumbled, his bottom lip between his teeth as he lifted up my skirt and revealed my pair of lace panties.

He tucked his fingers into the waistband, pulling my panties down until they were off my legs.

“What are you-” I was interrupted by his tongue on my clit. He lifted up my skirt so it was flush against my stomach, looking up at me through his thick lashes.

I moaned softly as I watched him seperate my folds with his tongue, humming into me as he got a taste of my sweet arousal. His mouth returned to my clit, sucking softly as my thighs clamped around his head.

“Holy shit,” I cursed, lifting my hips up to meet his face, the pressure of his tongue on me filling me with intense pleasure.

“God you taste amazing,” he groaned as he pulled away for a second, lifting my legs towards my torso, so I was completely spread and exposed to him.

He flattened his tongue over my clit, before assaulting it with wet kisses, strings of spit connecting me to his mouth. His eyes never left mine as he tasted me, the knot in my stomach ready to unwind as I watched him. I pushed aside all my thoughts telling me how wrong this was, totally consumed by feeling like I was going to cum.

“Oh my god,” I moaned, finally at my climax, buckling my hips up once again to meet his face as I rode out my orgasm, feeling him lap up every last bit of my release.

His hands dropped my legs, as he stood up and dusted off the front of his jeans at his knees. He looked at me with a smirk, as I panted, sprawled out in front of him from the mess he made.

“Told you I could prove it,” he bragged, as I pulled on my panties and went to collect my bra from the floor. All the eye contact I could make before I couldn’t make now.

“You got 10 minutes to get yourself together, see you out there,” he walked over to me and slapped my ass before he reverted towards the door of the dressing room, leaving me speechless.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters requests #evan peters smut #evan peters imagine #evan peters x reader

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resowrites · 2 years

Text

Spanner - drabble.

Summary: Henry attempts a home repair…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, dialogue heavy, language, nondescript OC body type/appearance, brief allusion to smut, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 804

A/N: Another one pulled from my drafts, if you want more let me know lol

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! No copyright infringement intended, gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Spanner - drabble.

She was only two hours into her work when the house became strangely cold. The heating was timed to switch off at midday so she decided to head downstairs and investigate. Henry had only been back from filming a few days but was already sending her loopy. She got particularly worried when she passed the den and couldn't hear him gaming with his mates. She crossed her fingers, hoping he'd taken Kal out for a walk. But no, the pooch was laying flat out on the rug in the living room. To her shock, she found him huddled over the boiler in the corner of the kitchen, its cover removed and on the floor beside him. "Er, Henry… what are you doing?!" She managed to keep her voice calm but rushed over to him all the same. He turned around and flashed her his usual cheeky grin.

"Ha-llo my darling! I came in to see why the heating had switched off and the warning lights were flashing. I'm just going to reset it." Her blood ran cold.

"Oh God Henry, no, please… we’ve talked about home repairs. Come on, give me that spanner.*" She desperately tried to reach for it, causing him to hold it up even higher.

"Sorry babe, the manual reset didn't work so I'm gunna have to do a bit of tightening here and there. Don't worry, YouTube's got me sorted." Henry tried not to laugh as her mouth fell open in horror.

"YouTube?! Henry for God’s sake, no! You are not fiddling with something that can fucking explode!"

"Oh behave yourself, if it's that dangerous why are there tutorials? The one I watched was from a first-rate gas man and--" she quickly cut him off.

"You're a first-fucking-rate gas man. Now go give the guy or someone else a ring, please. I'll wait in and you can go walk Kal--" Henry put the tool down and pulled her in for a hug before she could grab it.

"Listen to me darling, I promise you it's just a minor fault. There's no need to call anyone out and anyway, they won't be as handsome as me so it's a win-win for you. Why don't you go make me a sarnie? If you feed workmen they work faster." He gave her a quick peck on the forehead before picking up the spanner and restarting the video on his phone. She peered around his shoulders.

"Oh my God, that video isn't even ten minutes long!"

"So? I only needed to watch the first two. Now, skedaddle." She really did start to panic.

"Henry, please, I'm begging you… at least let me have a shower first! God knows when we'll have hot water again!" Suddenly Henry hissed and jolted backward. "SEE?! Oh darling please, you'll hurt yourself!" His shoulders started shaking and she pulled him around to find him giggling.

"I was only joking silly arse!" She swatted him on the arm and held her head in her hand. He bent low to kiss her once again.

"Stop. Worrying. Go take Kal for a walk, you seem stressed." She returned Henry's smirk with a scowl and stormed off.

"Fine dickhead, but if the house blows up, you better hope to God you go with it!" She slammed the kitchen door, earning another chuckle from him.

***

She didn't know whether to be pleased or disappointed that she was almost home and hadn't yet heard an explosion. The house came into view at the top of the road and even the windows were still intact. She held her breath as she passed through the front door. It was still cold. She rolled her eyes as she unclipped Kal's leash and removed her coat. Henry was nowhere to be seen so she tiptoed into the kitchen, hoping not to lure him back, but instead found the boiler humming away like normal. She was still standing there when he started thumping down the stairs. "So? Do I get an apology?" She jumped and spun around to find him standing before her in only a towel.

"What are you talking about? The house is still freezing, and at least stand on the bloody rug… you're dripping everywhere!"

"Oh, she of little faith! You don't need the heating on when the shower's running. You won't need it on now either if you care to follow your gas man upstairs…" She ignored his cheeky wink and grabbed the towel off his body. She then kneeled to mop the floor but looked back up when he wouldn't budge. Instead, he just stood there, grinning.

"… Now suck me off." They both laughed before she snapped to her feet and whipped Henry’s backside with the towel all around the house.

*I think non-Brits call it a wrench. Happily, it's also slang for idiot.

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @inlovewithhisblueeyes @pinkhippo44 @luclittlepond @kebabgirl67

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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demons2003 · 2 years

Text

My Boys (Chapter 46)

Series List

Y/n's pov

"Steve?" I whisper out after a long silence. We'd been trying to sleep for over an hour but I was still struggling to get to sleep. "Mmmm?" Steve moans as he snuggles closer to me. I smile at him and run a hand through his hair. "I think I should tell the kids about me," I whisper to him. Steve jumps out of my lap and looks concerned and worried at me. "Are you sure? Why do you want to tell them now?" He questions in curiosity. I look down at my hands, locking my fingers together and take a deep breath. "Remember that day you came into Scoops and Jason was harassing Robin and I?" I ask him, not looking up at him at all. "Yeah, what about it?" Steve questions, moving one of his hands to my cheek. "Well, he had a photo of me. Of me kissing Robin," I tell him, looking back up at him to see his reaction. His face hardens and he balls his other hand into a fist. "I'm gonna kill him," Steve whispers before I can even get to the worst part. I place a hand on one of his and continue, "He said he was gonna spread it around the school. Tell everyone that I was a lesbian." Steve gets angrier and asks, "Is he doing any of this to Robin? Like is she in danger of this as well," I shake my head and softly smile at him caring about my best friend as much as I do. "No one would be able to recognize her from the photo. Jason didn't know it was her either," I explain, running my free hand through Steve's hair. He tries to smile at the action but I could tell he was still very angry. "Do you want me to fight Jason to get him not to do it?" He asks.

I laugh and shake my head. "Nah baby, it's ok. I don't really mind him telling people. I just need to make sure that the kids all hear it from me and not from a random person that is trying to get a rise out of them." I explain to him. Steve nods in understanding and wraps his arms around my middle. He pulls me closer to him and hides his face in my stomach. "I'm sorry," I hear and feel Steve whisper into my stomach. I look down confused at him and ask, "Why are you sorry? You couldn't have done anything to stop this from happening." Steve shrugs and tightens his arms around me. "But because of a dickhead, you have to come out earlier than you are ready for," Steve reasons. I laugh a little at him and tell him, "I think I've been ready to tell them all for a really long time. This way just the push I needed to finally tell them." Steve looks up at me and smiles. "You are amazing, you know that?" He looks up at me in awe and I laugh a little bit at him. I boop his nose and shake my head. "Anyway, you ok if we have them all over here in a few days so I can tell them?" I ask him, worried that he wouldn't be ok with all of this happening here for some reason. "Of course, in the morning we'll call all the rugrats and tell them to be here on Saturday," Steve tells me. I smile wider at him and give him a big kiss on the lips. Steve smiles into the kiss and pulls me down to deepen the kiss further.

A few days later (Saturday)

"God, I don't know if I'm ready for this," I say while pacing a hole in Steve's living room floor. Robin and Steve were sitting quietly watching me do this. "It's gonna be ok. Do you really think any of them will have a problem with you liking girls?" Robin asks, moving off of the couch and getting in my pacing path. She grabs onto my arms and forces me to look at her. "I know that, but like, what if they aren't cool with all of it? They could just get more awkward about the whole thing?" I ramble, really coming up with anything to stop this from happening. Something that I probably learnt from Robin. Robin looks at me in playful disbelief and shakes her head. Steve stands up from the couch but just as he goes to say more to help, the doorbell goes off.

"Well, that will be them now," Steve announces and walks out of the room. I begin to panic again and try to get out of Robin's arms so I can pace again. "Hey," Robin whispers, placing a hand on my cheek and moving my head to make me look at her. "Everything will be ok, and if it's not, Steve and I will both still be here for you," Robin whispers to me. I nod at her and pull her into a big hug, not really needing to say anything more about the whole thing starts.

As we pull away from our hug, my group of little kids almost run into the room and crash onto the couch, Nancy following in after them and sitting in a chair. Robin laughs at them and joins in on all the pushing and jumping on the couch. Steve walks in slowly behind them all and stands next to me, placing a hand on my lower back. "You ok?" Steve asks, waiting for me to get this all started. I nod and look over at everyone mucking around on the couches. "All right!" I yell and give a big clap to silence the whole room. Everyone stops and looks shocked at me. I quickly look at everyone in the room and notice that Max isn't in the chaos that is on the couch. "What are we doing here N/n?" Dustin questions after a while of silence. I feel my nerves get worse but destress a little when I feel Steve place his hand lightly on my back again.

"I asked you all over to Steve's because I need to tell you all something important before you all go to school," I start, not really knowing how I'm going to start all of this. Erica sits forward a little bit and asks, "Are you and Steve finally together?" My eyes widen at the statement and everyone burst out in congratulations instead of waiting for an answer. I feel Steve freeze next to me and Robin freeze as well. God dam these kids and their short attention spans. "Ok, Ok. Thanks for that Erica, but that isn't why I've got you all here." I say, getting everyone's attention on me again. "Why are we all here then?" Max grumbles, already seeming to be bored with the conversation. I look over at her worried and think about trying to go over to hers at some point to work out what is going on with her at the moment. "What I'm gonna tell you is a lot more important than a relationship," I tell her, looking back and further at the whole group. Dustin looks at me worried and says, "Say it already Y/n. You're starting to make me worry over here."

I take a deep breath and start to tell the kids. "You are all going to high school this year. Over the summer, Jason learnt some personal information about me and is gonna be spreading this information all around the school." They all look even more confused and so I continue, "I want to get in front of him and tell you all myself. I like girls and guys." After I say the last words I watch as everyone in the room let out a big breath. "What the hell L/n!? We thought this was gonna be bad news!" Mike snaps at me. Everyone else nods and agrees with Mike, but they are a lot less angry. I look even more confused at them all and say, "What the hell do you mean? That is serious," I tell him. Dustin breaks out laughing and says, "We know you like both Y/n. Ever since we've been little you've been dropping hints that some girls are hot and not in the friends kind of way. It doesn't really surprise us at this point."

I laugh a little at him and walk over to the couch. "Well, if you're all ok with me being Bi, then you won't mind me doing this," I say before pulling Dustin into a big hug and giving him lots of kisses. He breaks out laughing and tries to push me off of him. "Help! Help Me!" Dustin starts to yell at all of his friends. I hear everyone laughing at us and then all of the kids jump on me and try to get me off of him. I laugh with everyone and we all end up on the floor. We all lay there catching our breath when Robin, Nancy and Steve pop into my field of vision. "You ok down there?" Nancy asks as all, a small smile spreading over her face. I laugh and nod my head, looking over to where I last saw Max but find that she isn't there anymore. I look around at the kids on the floor but she isn't among the mass of limbs laying around either.

I sit up and take a deep breath, preparing myself for the next part. "There is something else I need to ask of you all. More so you all," I say, pointing to the group of kids laying on the floor. They all look over at me, a little bit concerned again so I quickly say, "I need you all to stay the hell away from me at school. You don't know me there. You've never meant me. You stay the hell away from me." I warn them all a little bit too sternly. I look at everyone but they all burst out into a fight with me. I hear comments of, 'What the hell?' 'Why would we do that?' 'Why can't we know you?' 'We are not doing that!' I shake my head at them all and look over at the three other older kids in the room. All three of them look concerned at me, Nancy more angry than concerned. I shake my head and yell, "All right, that's enough!"

Everyone snaps their head at me but doesn't say a word. "Ok, you kids have already had enough trouble when it comes to school. I have someone who is an outsider but he's your kind of outsider. If you are with me when this news gets around the school, I don't know what people will do to you. You need to do this for me so I know that you are all safe," I explain to them all, hoping that they all understand. Dustin shuffles closer to me and says, "But, you're the coolest person we know. Why can't we just stay with you?" I softly smile at him and place a hand on his cheek. "It's ok Dusty. It may not be the whole year, just until everything dies down, then you can talk to me. But I need you all to do this for now. Ok?" I ask them all, receiving sad nods all around.

I sigh and say, "How about this, if you all want, you can spend the night here with Steve and me tonight and tomorrow before I go to work, I'll introduce you to this person so you feel a little more comfortable when you see him at school?" I ask them all. Everyone brightens and nods their heads. "Hey! I never agreed to that!" Steve says. I laugh and look up at him with my best puppy dog eyes. "Please Stevie? It's the last time the kids will be able to hang out with me until school starts up again," I beg him, the kids all saying please and giving him puppy dog eyes as well. Steve sighs in defeat and nods. "Fine, but you all need to clean up before you leave tomorrow," Steve tells us. We all cheer and have an evening full of fun and some Dnd adventure.

#5 seasons #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x reader #steve x reader #steve x eddie #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin x reader #steddie #steve x reader x eddie #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson

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krastbannert · 2 years

Text

Well. I wanted to get a lot more writing done this semester than I have in a while, but things got crazy. Including:

Last semester of college being a lot crazier than I thought it would, including taking one of the classes in the running for the hardest at my university, and dealing with senior design, taught by "Professor Dickhead" as my girlfriend calls him.

Studying for four months for - and, somehow, passing - the interview I mentioned here. Turns out a five minute interview with a guy who controls the course of your life in the immediate future is about 6000 times more stressful than you'd think.

Being completely and totally burnt out on fandom as a whole. Seriously, fandom frustrates me. But that's not the point of this post so I won't talk about that here.

But, with two weeks left, I'm back to writing. So here's a little sample from Brave Soldier Girl, Chapter III. Not much left to figure out, mostly just the final course of events in Azula's stay at an asylum. After that...it's on to stuff I haven't actually written about before. So. Fun times.

She stays in the asylum, and she tries; tries to be better, tries to be perfect again. Time seems to vanish in front of her eyes, but it doesn’t feel like anything is happening.

It’s easy to lose track. The same walls, the same routines, the same nurses and patients - it all just…blends together. Her doctors change - oh, they change, one after another after another - but that’s all. The seasons go by outside her window; that’s the only real way she can tell that time has passed. The winter turns into a hot summer that’s quenched by the plum rains, and then back into winter.

And all the while, she can feel the parts of her start to drift away.

(She almost tries to paint again, to draw - but something tells her she can’t.

She takes walks and she exercises, but her bending feels…off. Not right. It gets harder and harder, the flames almost sliding off her fingers at times, but she keeps going.

Her bending is the only thing she has, and without that…no one has a use for her, anymore.)

She tries to escape, once. To get out, to stop her mind from fraying. She’s caught almost immediately - she had the perfect plan, and still, she’s caught, somehow. Her doctor, Altan, is there when the guards bring her back to her room. “Why, Azula?” he asks.” Why would you do it? You’d…you’d been making progress.”

Progress, she thinks. Sure. If that’s what he calls it. Idiot.

She doesn’t say that, though. She just looks at him calmly, carefully.

“Wouldn’t you?” It’s all she says. Altan has no response.

A month after her escape attempt, Altan quits. He’d only lasted four months. (Four. Months. That’s all he was willing to dedicate before giving up on her.)

She’s been here for ten months. Two therapists have tried their hand at “fixing” her. At “rehabilitating” her. Azula thinks that should be a sign that there’s nothing wrong with her, not like that, because she’s not crazy.

(That’s what she tells herself each night. You’re. Not. Crazy.

One night, lying awake, staring out her window at the stars, she thinks of a beach, nearly a year ago, now, and all the things she'd said - and suddenly she wonders if she’s become so good at lying that she can’t tell anymore when she’s lying to herself.)

#my writing #brave soldier girl #azula #azula redemption #life update #work in progress #atla

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starlightsearches · 2 years

Note

what about “need help getting out of those clothes?” or “god, you have no idea what you do to me.” with eddie???

When It's Raining

Thanks for the request, my love! I'm sorry I got a little carried away 😅 I got this insane urge to write some really, really soft smut, and I was listening to fleetwood mac. You know how it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

4k~ish words

Likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going. Requests are also open 💖

Eddie Munson x F! Reader

Warnings: mutual pining, friends to lovers, eddie's kind of gross, minor drug mentions, some teasing, reader gets stood up 😭, 18+ only, PIV sex, fingering (f), ring kink, safe sex, leetle bit of overstim (m), squirting, it's just a teeny bit awkward, i'm telling on myself with this one, maybe this is too many ideas for one story but fuck it we ball, and I think that's it!

The days are always too slow when it rains.

Eddie's got no commitments, no plans. Nobody was about to hike out into the woods or his trailer when the rain is thick enough to swim in, so he's got no business either. What he has got is a lit cigarette in his mouth (despite Wayne’s warnings against smoking in bed, all because he fell asleep one time), the rain on the trailer roof beating in uneven time, and an excess of thoughts.

He'd tried to drown them out with music, but the record's been spinning quietly for a while now and he couldn't be assed to get up and flip to the other side. Instead, he's chewing on his tongue, thinking about your date.

"I have a date tonight, asshole."

That's what you'd said to him when he called you up at work and begged you to save him from this mind-numbing boredom. When you said you couldn't, he'd made some wise-ass remark—something about how you couldn't have plans when he was your only friend.

"I have a date tonight, asshole."

"Bullshit, with who?"

"Connor Ingraham. He graduated the year before I did."

The year Eddie was supposed to graduate. "Was he the dickhead who chipped his tooth trying to do a backflip off the table in Mr. Holley's room?"

"He got it fixed in the city, but that's not the point. He came into the store today and we got talking. He asked me to dinner."

"And you said yes?"

"Yeah, why not? He was cute, even with the chipped tooth."

Eddie scoffs aloud at that, and then flushes even though there's no one around to hear it. Connor wasn't cute. He was a grade-a piece of shit then, and Eddie highly doubted he had changed that much since graduation.

More importantly though, Connor didn't seem like your type.

Eddie stubs out the cigarette, carding a hand through his hair and feeling stupid. He doesn't even know what your type is. If he did, maybe he could figure out how to get your attention.

There's a knock at the door, rattling his bedroom window with enough force that it pulls him from his stupid little pity party.

Eddie rolls from the mattress, feeling stiff and dirty, wearing the same clothes he woke up in—which also happen to be the same clothes he'd worn all yesterday. Not that it matters; he wasn't trying to impress anybody.

Or that's what he thought. Then he'd found you behind his door.

You're not looking your best, though, either. Your clothes are completely soaked through—the sweet little dress, your denim jacket, your shoes. You're a walking puddle with big, sad eyes, sitting on his porch.

You brush some of the rain and running mascara from your cheek without making a dent in the mess. "Can I come in?"

Eddie steps out of the way, wordless, watching as you shift the jacket from your shoulders, hanging it on the hook by the door. It creates its own little inside rainstorm, dripping limply onto the carpet. He peels his eyes from it as you slip your shoes from your feet next, barefoot and shivering in his living room.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"I walked here," you say, like it’ll clear up all his questions, "can I stay the night? I'll sleep on the couch, even."

Giving up his bed for a night is the least of his problems. Eddie grabs a couple towels from the top of the laundry basket, shuffling back to you. He tosses one down on the cushions, and flings the other around your shoulders like a cape. You grab ends of it gratefully, holding it close for warmth as you flop down onto the couch.

He sits down beside you, picking at the loose skin around his nails to keep himself from touching you. "Of course you can, but you gotta tell me what's wrong, first."

You're staring at your knees, chewing on your lip, and he knows your expressions well enough to recognize when you're embarrassed. Which is silly, of course, because it's him you're talking to. You've seen him pick up a corn dog off the ground and eat it.

(Although he never told you he only did it to make you laugh. That would be its own kind of embarrassing.)

Eddie scoots a little closer than he normally dares, jeans soaking up some of the water you're dripping, leaning in close until you look him in the eyes.

"Did he- did he hurt you?"

You roll your eyes at him, but he still catches the tears pooling in your lashes. "He would have had to show up to do that."

Oh. That's got Eddie at his boiling point.

He takes your hands in his because he's got to have somewhere to channel this energy—something to ground him—but your skin is like ice, and the anger's not going anywhere.

"You want me to beat him up for you?"

At least that makes you laugh. "What good would that do? You haven't won a fight since," —you pause, thinking hard— "actually, I don't think you’ve ever won a fight."

That's not saying much. You'd only ever seen him throw a punch maybe twice, and one of those was in middle school. Now though, he's feeling like an animal—like he could rip Connor's throat out with his teeth.

But he doesn't want to scare you, so instead he puts on a half-smile, rubbing some warmth into your fingers as he says, "there's a first time for everything."

You shake your head. "I just want to forget about it."

Leaning down against his shoulder with a wet plop, you’re turning his white t-shirt see-through as it soaks up some of the rain from your hair. He’s never been this close to you anywhere but his dreams.

"Yeah, okay." And god fucking damn it, his voice cracks a little.

If the proximity has the same effect on you, he’s not seeing it. Eddie forces himself to ignore the welling bitterness, choosing instead to focus on the quiet cadence of your words.

"I should have known better. He never looked my direction when we were still in school. Nobody did."

Eddie did. That's why he failed English last year. Couldn’t even get himself to glance at the board.

"It's probably not even like that," —Eddie shifts uncomfortably. He doesn't know why he's defending this guy; seeing you sad makes him crazy,—"maybe he just forgot."

You shoot him a cynical look. "Would you forget?"

"No, but that's not the point." That's like the furthest you could get from the point.

"Yes, it is, Eddie,” you say, sharp with anger, “eventually I'm gonna have to accept that I'm not that kind of girl—"

Eddie sits back so he can look at you, make sure you didn't have some kind of a head injury he'd missed before. "Wait, hold up a second. What kind of girl?"

"You know . . . the kind of girl that people . . . like."

You're picking at your nail polish—little red flecks falling to the carpet—avoiding his eyes. He can’t believe you would say something like that, let alone believe it.

"That's bullshit."

"I'm just saying—"

"Well, stop saying. 'Cause it's not true."

Eddie stands—pacing—but the tight, hot feeling in his chest doesn't go anywhere, and he hardly hears the words spilling out of his own mouth. "God damn, you know you're too good for that dickhead, anyway. Way too good for him—you’re too smart, and funny, and easy to be around, and- and, fuck , so fucking pretty, even when you're not trying to be, and god, it's like you have no idea what that could do to me—"

"To you?"

Oh, shit. He’s fucked up.

You’re standing, close enough he could reach out and touch you although he doesn’t remember seeing you leave the couch. All that anger floods out of him like air in a punctured lung.

He grips a handful of his own hair, flexing his fingers rhythmically, trying to think. "I mean- just, like, to men, you know. In general."

"You didn't say that,” your tone is soft, but guarded, “you said 'to me.'"

There’s barely any distance between you now. He can see the rain drops perched in your lashes like little jewels, your shining skin, the warmth of your breath tempered by the chill in the air.

"What do I do to you, Eddie?" you ask, in a voice soft like velvet. His heart’s gonna beat out of his chest.

The tip of your finger traces over the chain on his wrist, pressing the cool links against his skin. “What do I do to you, Eddie? Tell me.”

He’s gotta be honest with you. It’s the only thing he has left.

"You- you drive me fuckin' crazy."

The pause you give him is weighted enough to crush him, eyes wide and unreadable, a soft furrow appearing between your brows. And then you’re rolling your eyes again, pushing him half-heartedly on the shoulder to hide your hurt.

"Come on, Eds, you know I don't believe that—"

Eddie needs you to shut up, and there's only one way he can think of, his fingers sprawled across your cheeks, burying his nose against your skin, warming your lips against his with a surge of hot, open-mouthed kisses. You taste better than he thought you would, and he’s thought about it a lot.

Thought about it so much he’s not even sure what’s real—the feel of your arms at his neck, hands in his hair, tongue stroking along the seam of his lips. He hopes the little breathless laugh you give him as you pull away is real, staring up into his eyes with more honesty than he’s ever seen from you.

“You drive me crazy, too.”

You kiss him, pressing your body tight to his and gripping thick handfuls of hair, tugging a little until he gasps. It’s the proximity that tips him off to the shivers traveling through you, your skin still cool despite how long you’ve been inside.

God, he’s freezing—leached of heat wherever the rain has soaked through his own clothes, and it’s got to be worse for you.

He strokes a thumb over your lips as he pulls away, letting you know that he’s still thinking of them. “We should get you out of these clothes.”

You follow Eddie to his bedroom, just like you’d done a thousand times before—so you could smoke, or check out one of his new records, or work on your homework while he dicked around with his guitar—but the nerves he feels this time are brand new.

“Y’know, what I said before,” he pauses in the doorway and turns to face you, drumming a beat on the frame with his fingers, “it wasn’t a come-on. If you want to just go to sleep, I can- you know, take the couch.”

You look at him with false innocence in your eyes, and Eddie wishes you would stop. The chemical reaction it causes in him is too much.

“The couch, huh?”

You touch him again, and—outside the heat of the moment—he doesn’t know how to handle it, trembling at the feeling of your fingers stroking up his chest. It’s nothing compared to the soft press of your lips at his neck.

“Just . . . if it would make you more, uh,” —his vocabulary is shrinking by the second. He’s gonna be nothing but a pile of moans and single-syllable words if you don’t stop doing that— “comfortable.”

You kiss along his jaw, down his collar bone. He can barely form a thought, let alone a word.

“We’ve shared a bed before, Eddie,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels. The distance means he can think again, but only about how disappointed he is you stopped.

That’s true. Kind of. There were nights you’d fallen asleep on the same mattress, bodies curved around each other without touching, the river of his want carving canyons between you while he watched you doze off.

“I mean, yeah, but never on purpose.”

You echo his words from earlier, turning your back and exposing the little white zipper of your dress. “There’s a first time for everything. Besides, I need your body heat. Help me?”

Eddie’s mouth moves wordlessly, completely dried up as he takes the metal tab in between his fingers. It pulls down smoothly, the little teeth clacking with each inch of your skin he reveals, until his hand stops, just above the curve of your ass. You shrug the dress forward off your shoulders, letting it fall forward and slip from around your hips.

“God damn.” Eddie thinks that maybe he shouldn’t curse—like it might cheapen the moment—but he’s got no control over the whispered words when his eyes trace over the lacy pink straps at your back, the junction where your sheer underwear meets the curve of your hip. He wants to snap the elastic against your skin, wants to make you tremble, but his hands stay locked at his sides.

The view’s even better when you turn, your arms folded shyly in front of you until he can just barely catch a glimpse of your stiff nipples through the sheer fabric, the swell of your breasts dented against your arms. He grabs at your wrists, pinning your hands out of the way, tracing his eyes from your crossed ankles up, taking all of you in.

You look really good in pink—looking demure, innocent even though he knows well enough that you’re not, but still . . . he wants to ruin you. Wants to mark you with his big hands and his dirty mouth and his cock. Wants to make you his, and only his.

“Do you like what you see?”

You’re making fun of him—maybe just to get rid of your own nerves—but fuck, yeah, he does. He likes it a lot.

“What’s wrong?”

Eddie’s never been that good at keeping his thoughts to himself around you. He knows his face must give away everything, and normally he’d lie about it, say it was nothing, but now’s not the time for lies. “It’s nothing— I just- I kinda wish you were wearing this for me.”

Against his will, he thinks about Connor again. The idea of his clumsy hands at your waist, his stupid little patched tooth leaving marks against your neck, and his eyes taking in the way your tits look covered in pretty pink lace when he doesn’t even deserve to be in the same room as you.

You soothe his worries, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, the thought of Connor poofing into thin air.

“I am wearing it for you, Eddie. There’s nobody else,” —you take his hand in your own, place it over your stomach and press up until his fingers are wrapped around the curve of your breast— “I would rather be with.”

Fuck. He explores you with a wide-open palm, cupping your tit experimentally, capturing the soft skin under his thumb. He shifts, and you gasp a little, the back of his ring catching on the raised bud of your nipple, your mouth falling into the sweetest little o shape. And then he does it again. And again.

You reach out to him, fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt. “Can I see you?”

“Uh, yeah.” He stumbles back to the bed, blinded momentarily when you pull his shirt off over his head, your fists curled limply his chest as he rolls back onto the mattress, shifting until you’re beneath him.

Your skin grows warmer under his hands—one making indents at your waist with the press of his rings, and the other intertwined with your own, buried against the mattress with every heavy sigh and roll of his hips. He kisses you, over and over, each kiss longer than the last, growing bolder with the press of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth, feeling bolder when he hears your shaky breaths, feels the rise and fall of your stomach, soft against his.

And, god, there can’t be anything better than this. There can’t be. To have you here, in his arms, in his bed, your breaths ringing in his ears—it’ll dull the rest of the world.

“Eddie.” He’s pulled off your lips just long enough to hear you say his name, and he wants to hear it again, kissing along your jaw to keep your mouth free.

“What, baby?” he asks with your earlobe caught between his teeth, sucking it into his wet mouth, filled with a thrill when he feels your neck go taut, head rolling back against his pillow.

“Fuck, Eddie. I need you.”

God, how long has he waited to hear you say that? He leans back so he can meet your eyes, his hair falling down in curtains around your face like your own private canopy—a private space with you and him and nobody else. “Yeah?”

You nod, speaking between heavy breaths. “Yeah.”

Eddie presses a kiss to your knuckles, fingers still entwined with yours.

“Anything for you.” And he means it.

Sitting back on crossed ankles, he tries not to stare at the way you’re sprawled across his sheets, gripping your hips in both hands. You slide towards him with a laugh when he pulls you flush against his hips, eyes wide with surprise—or maybe it’s delight—knees parted around his waist and hair splayed out behind you.

He keeps his eyes on your face, running his palm up the inside of your thigh. His fingers fit perfectly in the space between your thighs, cupping your clothed pussy.

“Fuck, baby, you’re wet.”

You were soaked through before, but he can’t give all the credit to the rain, pressing the tip of his middle finger tight against your hole, stroking back and forth against the warm, damp fabric. Your lips press tighter together as you shift back on your shoulders, freeing up your hips to move against his hand.

Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Eddie pulls back, gripping the largest of his rings—the one on his middle finger—in his other hand, wiggling the pig’s head from where it rests against his knuckles. The others clink against the first in his open palm, catching your attention.

“What are you doing?” You sit up, gripping at his wrist with your eyes on his hands. His fingers feel naked without the heavy metal, and he flexes them uneasily.

“I was gonna, uh, finger you?”

It’s hard not to laugh, saying it out loud instead of just thinking about it. Eddie’s always told you everything, except this. He’d steered clear on the topic of sex, not wanting to say something he’d end up regretting, and now his mouth is unsure how to form the words when he’s looking at you.

You bite at your lip, and he finds a little comfort in seeing that you look equally embarrassed. “Yeah, but . . . I want you to leave them on.”

Fuck.

“Seriously?” He knows he’s wide-eyed, lips splitting into a wide grin he couldn’t dream of hiding.

You just shrug in response. “You heard me.”

You won’t look at him, but he can’t keep his eyes off you as you take each of the rings in your own hand, slipping them back into place one finger at a time. It’s a honeyed gesture—made for soft mornings and sunny days. It’s got his heart cracking in two.

Eddie takes your chin in his hand when the rings are back where they belong, pressing gentle kisses—one to each cheek—giving you a little sugar of his own.

“Loud and clear, babe.”

You lay back against the bed again, a deep breath in your lungs as he peels away the slick fabric away from your center, parting your lips with one thick finger, fighting for air.

You’re so pretty like this. He’d thought you were pretty before, but this is next level—better than seeing you in the passenger seat of his van with the windows down, better than your teasing smile. He slides his middle finger inside the tight, wet channel of your cunt, feels you squeeze around him, and the word pretty has a whole new meaning.

You take him so well as he slides his finger in and out, deep as he can with the rings, your slick spend coating the metal with each thrust, and you move against him, the pace of your breath keeping time with his thrusts.

“That feel good?”

He takes his eyes off your cunt for just a moment, crumbling a little when he finds your own hands wrapped around your tits, lace cups pulled down so you could squeeze at your nipples, back off the mattress with the way his thumb stutters against your clit.

“I need more, Eddie.”

Fuck, he’s gonna give it to you, already sliding another finger beside the first, increasing the speed until any sounds coming from you mouth have to compete with the wet sucking sound of your greedy pussy. His other arm wraps across your hips, burying his fingers against the bone, trying to hold you still so he can massage your clit with the tip of his thumb.

“Eddie,” you say, desperation in your voice like fucking heroine.

“Already, baby?” he’s panting, the muscles in his arms starting to seize, as if that would get him to stop. He changes tactics instead, shifting just slightly to improve the angle, pressing against your slick front wall with two fingers. His thumb bears down on your clit, and your walls draw in tighter around him, soft tremors echoing through his hand. He watches you, insatiable, licking his lips at the way your tits shake, your hands clutching his sheets tight enough to tear.

“Fuck,” you try to tell him off, but the message is weakened by your little moans, “don’t make fun of me.”

“Why not? It’s one of my favorite things to do.”

Or it was. His new favorite thing to do is definitely making you cum. With his rings grazing your folds, he feels you squeeze around his fingers, thighs shaking at his sides, and he’s more than content to watch you put the pieces of yourself back together, brushing your clit once or twice because he likes the way you spasm.

He slides from you, flopping down on the pillow beside you with a stupid grin, wiping his hand off on the sheets so he could turn your eyes towards him, holding your face in his hands.

You’ve finally got enough of your breath back to respond, face covered in a thin sheen of sweat. “Fuck you, Munson.”

“You want to?”

You want to? Typical smart-ass comment—Eddie’s said that to most of the people he knows, since he hears fuck you pretty regularly. The asshole jocks at Hawkins High never knew what to do when their threats of violence were met with his indifference, and his friends always got a kick out of it. He’s never said it to you before, though. He knew he wouldn’t be able to take it when you inevitably said no.

So his heart’s beating a little too fast for his liking when you plant a hand against his chest, catching his lips against your own in a gentle kiss. “Yeah. I want to.”

He just barely manages to resist the urge to say really?, still in shock when your palm grazes over his crotch, popping the button of his jeans.

“You got something?”

He can only nod, reaching into his nightstand drawer as you help him shimmy from his pants, kissing you, harsh and open-mouthed, so you won’t think about how awkward he is at doing both.

Eddie’s palms are too sweaty to reliably tear open the condom package, so he opts to use his teeth, shucking his boxers off and kicking them to the edge of the bed up on his knees.

“Wow.”

You’re staring at him, wide-eyed, tongue peeking out between your plush lips. Staring at his dick.

“What is it?”

His voice is high and vulnerable—cracking like a fucking middle-schooler. Nobody’s ever told him that there was anything weird about his cock, but it would be just his luck that all of them were too polite—or high—to mention it.

“Nothing, it’s just,”—you press your lips together again, wiggling a little, embarrassed, “you’re bigger than I’d thought you’d be.”

God damnit. You’re trying to kill him.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he knows he’s bright red down to his neck as he shifts onto his elbows, sliding between your thighs.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles, even though it gives away how totally and completely pleased he is, fucking over the moon thinking about you thinking about his cock.

“Please?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, and yeah, of course he’s gonna give you what you want.

One hand guides his cock towards your entrance, the other cups the back of your head, pulling you close so he can feel the little gasp on your lips at the pressure, the head of him just stroking over your entrance, circling your clit.

Your nails scratch along his shoulder blades. He feels your whisper at his neck.

“What did I say about teasing me, Munson?”

He laughs. “That I should do it as often as possible?”

Whatever you’re about to say in response is cut off with a sharp gasp as he presses the head inside your cunt, sliding in the first few inches with relative ease, your body still loose from your first release.

“You good?” he asks, waiting for your nod before he shifts forward. You’ve got your fingers curled against the base of his scalp, tugging a little at the roots.

“I’m good. Are you?”

“Yeah.” But the answer is no. He’s ready to bust—not even a two-pump chump at this point. Feeling your body envelop him is better than he’s ever imagined. Tighter, and wetter, definitely, but also more passionate—hearing and feeling and seeing how totally and completely you want him.

He’s got to start slow, and it’s so goddamn soft—the way you open for him, legs stretching wider to accommodate his thrusts, your gentle kisses at his neck, soft doe eyes looking up at him like you’ll die if he looks away.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. Way too fuckin’ good.”

He knows he’s babbling, cupping your cheek in one hand, brushing the stray hair out of your face so he can watch you. If he’s lucky, you don’t even hear him—cock-drunk already by the sound of your moans. If he’s lucky, you feel as good as he does right now.

If he’s lucky, you’ll let him do this again.

You clasp your hand over his, fingers exploring the surface of his rings, and there are tears in your eyes, hips meeting his with every thrust, such pretty little noises pouring from you when he hits that spot deep inside you, cunt squeezing him tighter than he thought possible, swallowing up every ridge and vein like his cock was made for you. He grips your hip tight in his other hand, pulling you closer, hard enough to bruise. You don’t seem to mind.

“I’m- fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last,” he has to admit it now—too far gone for shame—vision going spotty, little white lights obscuring your features until he can hardly see you at all.

He buries his head in your neck, but there’s no judgement, just your voice in his ear. “I want you to, baby. Cum inside me.”

He does. A deep groan ripping its way out his chest, he spills inside you, the muscles in his core spasming as the pleasure shoots through him. He feels it in the base of his spine, in the palms of his hands, in his chest, mind far off because he didn’t know it could feel that good and he doesn’t know how to handle it.

His cock is still throbbing inside you when he feels your hand snake its way between your sweaty bodies, fingers rubbing tight circles at your clit, moving faster and faster, jaw clenched tight with a high, keening whine, cunt squeezing until you’re gushing around him, dampening the thick hair at the base of his cock, dripping on the sheets.

“Fuck.”

His body rocks with the same convulsions you feel, so intimately entwined it’s almost like he’s cumming again, body shaking and exhausted, too tired to even slip his cock from between your legs long after you’ve gone still. Instead, he rolls onto his back—away from the wet spot—arms wrapped around you, pulling you along with him until your weight is pressing him into the mattress.

“Wow,” you tell him, head pillowed against his chest. You still haven’t caught your breath enough for full sentences. He’s not much better.

“I know.”

You trace the lines of his tattoo with the tip of your finger, and it tickles a little. He can feel your heart rate slow. “I wish I’d have known it would be like that ages ago. I would have tried to fuck you a lot sooner.”

“I would have let you.”

It feels so good, being this honest. He’s got nothing left in him to hide.

You shift your hips enough to let his cock slide out from you—still a little sensitive as it lands against his thigh. You’re wiggling your shoulders next, trying to pull out of his grasp. Eddie just tightens his hold, locking his hands behind your back.

“Eddie,” there’s a little bit of a whine in your voice, “I gotta go pee.”

He just shakes his head with a little laugh. “Not yet, baby. I think it’s time for round two.”

He lets you sit back just enough you can look him in the eyes, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely, baby. I’ve been waiting for this too damn long. We’re just getting started.”

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things season four #minors dni #requests #anons #my writing #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson fics

1K notes · View notes

oumaheroes · 2 years

Note

You said that the UK bros like to keep certain holidays peaceful, do you have examples where they didn't manage it? Like complete chaos and everybody is at least a little bit pissed about the situation

Also on A03, if you prefer

Characters: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales

----

‘Oh dear.’

‘What?’ Ireland came up and propped his chin on Wales’ shoulder, his stubble poking through the thin material of his shirt, ‘You finally realised that you’ve been walking around all night with curry sauce all over your front?’

‘I forgot my keys,’ Wales said quietly, sense of dread about forthcoming consequences overriding his need to immediately look down and inspect his clothes to see if Ireland were lying.

‘Huh?’

‘What’s the hold up?’ Scotland called from further down the little garden, the yellow light from the street lamps behind him obscuring the details of his face, ‘Come on I want to get in; he’s heavy.’

‘I’m not fucking heavy,’ England hopped wildly on his one good leg as Scotland moved abruptly sidewards, the other ankle now noticeably swollen, ‘You’re just weak; I’m barely putting my weight on you.’

‘Do you want me to throw you over to next door’s garden? Cos I bloody well will.’

‘Oi, stop it a sec,’ Ireland called to them, putting his hand on Wales’ shoulder and giving it a light squeeze, ‘What are you doing, get us in.’

‘You can piss off, you’re the reason my ankle’s fucked up.’ England wasn’t finished.

‘It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t insist on walking on it for two hours,’ Ireland shot back.

‘What else was I going to do? Drag myself across Cardiff?’

‘I thought it was a pretty clear hint that I wanted to leave you behind.’

‘Oh, so it was intentional, then?’

‘You’ll be fine.’

‘Of course I will but that’s not the point, is it?’

‘If I had known you were going wilt like a tight-laced Victorian noblewoman, I wouldn’t have tried to move you aside.’

‘You pushed me down a bank!’

Ireland gave a casual shrug but his grin grew wicked, ‘You were in the way.’

There was a shuffling sound that was either England attempting to lunge out at Ireland but likely being held back by Scotland, or it was Scotland somehow manhandling England to be quiet.

Wales stared unhappily at his doorhandle.

‘Right, both of you stop it, and keep it down,’ Scotland said over England’s muttering, beginning to sound genuinely irritated, ‘Rhys, what’s taking you so long?’

Wales apprehensively eyed the bedroom window of next door, still thankfully darkened, and pressed his lips together, ‘I left the keys inside; my new door is one of those that lock automatically, so....’

Ireland blinked at him, ‘Oh, you’re a massive fucking eejit.’

‘I didn’t mean to!’

‘What did he say?’

‘I think he said that he forgot the key?’

Ireland gave Wales a hard shove and turned back to the other two, ‘Dickhead forgot his keys; we’re locked out.’

‘Christ.’

‘Jesus Rhys, what the hell is wrong with you.’

‘I didn’t mean to, alright? It’s not like I planned this to happen.’

‘You might as well have. You and Arthur are terrible for forgetting or losing your shit but this-‘

‘Excuse me-‘

‘Shut it, Art, no one gives a crap.’

They fell silent, Wales drumming his fingers against the frosted glass window of the door. It was too late in the evening for them to have many options. They could take a bus this late still, but then what? Go where? The closest house was England’s in London which they might be lucky to get a train for, but Wales wasn’t sure that England had carried his London keys out with him. Even if he did it’d be a long night, they’d be better off getting a hotel.

Scotland manoeuvred England to sit on Wales’ low garden wall and then came over to join them, bending down to look at the lock.

‘What are you doing?’ Ireland frowned at him.

‘Looking.’

‘What? Do you think you can just wish it open?’

‘I’m looking, Christ alive would you calm down.’

Ireland huffed and leant against the rough brick of the wall, looking about the tidy patch of Wales’ front garden, ‘At least it’s summer. Worst comes to worst we can camp out here; it’s a warm evening.’

‘We could pick it,’ Scotland said, ignoring Ireland completely, ‘Might break the mechanism but we could get in, at least.’

‘It’s already 3am,’ Ireland continued to himself, ‘Not long left till things open-’

‘No thank you,’ Wales said indignantly, ‘Don’t pick it; this is brand new.’

‘-Could get breakfast at a café-’

‘Aye, but I want to sleep in a bed tonight.’

‘Why don’t we just get a hotel and call a locksmith tomorrow?’

Scotland turned back to the lock and Ireland gave Wales an indifferent shrug, ‘I’m honestly alright to kip out here, it’ll only be for a few hours. Not like we’ve not done it before.’

‘But my neighbours-‘

‘Bad news,’ they all turned to England who was scrolling through his phone on the wall, ‘because of the half marathon tomorrow, I’m struggling to find a hotel that’s got vacancies. Unless we want to pay for something stupidly expensive.’

‘No,’ Scotland jumped in quickly, ‘no we’re not paying silly buggers for just one night.’

‘Well, what then?’

‘Settles it,’ Ireland pushed off the wall and hopped down the small steps to the grass, ‘Come on Arthur, get comfortable.’

‘I’d rather stay up here, thank you.’

‘Suit yourself.’

‘Oh! Wait a minute.’ Without saying anything more, Wales hurried past to jog down the driveway which ran along the side of his house, hoping that he’d find what he expected to. Pushing his way along the subsequent alley between high fences and branches, he came to his back garden gate and quickly let himself inside.

Wales enjoyed his garden. He was letting it run a bit wild this year and, apart from the disapproving glances his elderly next-door neighbour shot him at every opportunity, he preferred it. Wild flowers and untrimmed bushes made a much more natural path through the space than the artificial sharpness of the paving stones that had broken it up previously, and the little pond at the bottom looked so much nicer covered with lily pads.

Skirting through it all, he came to the still trimmed part closer to the house and gazed up at the windows. As he had expected, the window to the bedroom Scotland had been sleeping in had been left wide open.

‘You’re lucky I wasn’t robbed,’ Wales scolded him when he rejoined them all out the front to let them know what he’d found, ‘You always do this and one day someone’s going to notice and break in.’

‘You’re fine, stop whingeing. Besides, it all worked out, didn’t it? You should thank me.’

‘The only thing that's worked out is that you’re consistent,’ Wales grumbled, ‘At least there’s some use for your forgetfulness; you complain about me and Arthur yet you’re just as bad.’

‘I’m not bad.’

‘Arthur love, you’re the worst.’

‘We’re not even in yet,’ Ireland pointed out as he helped England hop pathetically through the alley, making no attempt to prevent the overgrown branches from swinging back to hit him, ‘An open window doesn’t mean anything if we can’t get to it.’

‘Getting to it ain’t the problem,’ Scotland gazed up at the open window, hands on his hips, ‘It’s who can fit through.’

They all turned to look at Ireland.

‘Woah wait, why me?’

‘You’re the slimmest,’ England said, eying the window critically.

‘Also, the easiest for us to throw up there.’ Scotland added, ‘Less likely to break Rhys’ conservatory roof too.’

Wales tried not to think about it.

‘Can’t be me,’ Scotland rolled his broad shoulders and raised his eyebrows at them all with a smirk.

England rolled his eyes and Ireland shot him a dirty look, ‘Aye, alright muscle man. We know your head’s too fat to fit, no need to show off.’

Scotland patted Ireland’s cheek, ‘No need for jealousy.’

‘Shh!’ Wales glanced fearfully about at his neighbours’ windows, ‘Can we just get this over with?’

‘Gladly,’ leaving England to steady and defend himself against the newly disturbed midges emerging from the nearby bushes, Ireland followed Wales and Scotland over to the conservatory, where they hunkered down with hands clasped and ready to lift him up.

‘I wish North were here,’ Wales said, ‘He’d be perfect for this.’

‘I wish you were taller,’ Scotland grunted as he heaved Ireland up, ‘I’m taking all the weight.’

‘Weight? Alright fat head, do you want to swap?’

‘Do you want to get dropped?’

‘Oh, hurry up, please.’ Wales’ arms shook, ‘Patrick, what’s taking you so long?’

‘It’s disgusting up here, moss everywhere. Do you not clean this?’

‘I’m far too sober to enjoy this properly.’

‘Arthur, I swear to God, if you don’t shut up-‘

‘I’m good! Let go.’

With a sigh of relief, Wales and Scotland stepped back to watch Ireland pull himself up and tentatively step his way over the glass roof.

‘If he falls through…’

‘At least we’ll be in.’

‘Arthur…’

‘What?’

‘What kind of bloody window is this?’ Ireland tapped the sash window, ‘Why do you open the top half, Alasdair, what’s wrong with you?’

‘Oh just-‘

‘Shhh! For God’s sake keep it down.’

They all paused, watching in silence as Ireland attempted to pull himself through the top half of the window without falling back and crashing into Wales’ conservatory. A few testing hops before one big jump that luckily he calculated just right, slipping through before clumsily landing with a china shattering crash in the bedroom, followed by muffled swearing.

Scotland winced, ‘Ooo.’

Wales turned on him instantly, ‘What. What did you do.’

Scotland rubbed at the back of his neck, ‘I wanted to put my shirts on the shelf, so I moved those fancy plates that were there onto the dresser.’

‘The dresser under the window.’

‘…Aye.’

Wales pressed his hand over his mouth and shook his head, looking towards the house.

‘Rhys-‘

‘Don’t fucking touch me.’

‘I’ll buy you some new ones.’

‘We had this conversation when you threw my bloody phone out of the car last month, remember? You can’t just buy new ones.’

‘It’s fine, we can just-‘

‘It’s not BLOODY fine! Those were fucking ANTIQUES, you absolute incompetent shitstain!’

Either side of Wales’ house, bedroom lights flicked on.

‘Crap.’

----

AN:

This isn’t holiday themed at all, but I hope you liked it anyway, Anon!

I was going to write some sort of Christmas holiday disaster, but I’ve recently written one of those and wanted to do something different for the Isles bros. Please know though that they often go out drinking together for all sorts of celebratory reasons and things often go wrong, usually something like this in one way or another. One of them gets hurt, one gets pissed off, and they’re all usually drunk by the end of the night as they try to drag themselves home.

As my last story was so description heavy, I wanted to experiment about and try to use mostly dialogue this time. Lemme know what you think!

Thanks for reading <3

#aph england #aph scotland #aph wales #aph ireland #hws england #hws scotland #hws wales #hws ireland #aph brit bros #hws brit bros #aph british isles #arthur kirkland #heroes writes #heroes answers

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finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Drift Away (Part 1)

Summary: Before a last minute night out with the reader, Jensen calls Jared for a pep talk and decides tonight he’ll finally tell the reader about his long history of feelings for her, even if she is in a relationship. But things don’t go as planned when their night out gets cut short and the reader reveals why she’s so upset...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: language, cheating, angst, fluff

A/N: Parts of this series are told from both Jensen and the reader’s POV. Please enjoy! Also, Derek is such a dick!

______

Jensen POV

I hummed to myself and wandered into my closet, fresh and clean after a quick shower. I hadn’t hung out with Y/N alone in fucking forever. I hadn’t even seen her in person in months. Part of it was on me. My work schedule was a bit more in flux since the show ended and that was still an adjustment. But the other part...well I knew Y/N would hang out with me every weekend if she could.

If it wasn’t for the dickhead.

“Don’t call him that,” I sighed to myself. “She’s probably gonna marry him and I’ll be stuck with him.”

I walked out to the bedroom and picked up my phone from the charger, laying back in the soft bed while it rang a few times.

“Hey. What’s up?” said Jared. I made a keening sound and Jared sighed. “Do you have Y/N angst again or are you dying in a ditch which if you are-”

“She’s probably gonna marry him,” I sighed. “They’ve been together for two years and she thinks he’s getting ready to ask. Shit I think he’s gonna ask.”

“Did she-”

“No. But we’re hanging out tonight, just the two of us. I’m afraid I’m gonna walk in and see a ring on her finger and that’s it. It’s over.”

“Or grow a pair and tell her how you feel after SIX YEARS YOU IDIOT.” I clenched my jaw, giving the phone a dirty look. “Don’t give me that stupid look.”

“She has a boyfriend. How many times have we been over this? She’s always dating someone or I am. We’re just obviously not supposed to be anything more than best friends.”

“That’s bull and you know it. You adore Y/N and you’re always going to.”

“Yeah and I’d rather suffer in silence than hurt her happiness.”

“You’re such a fucking cliche.”

“Oh like you wouldn’t do the same shit for Gen.”

“Her happiness is important but so is mine. Who’s the one always telling me shit like that? Who is it? I forget.”

“...know it all,” I muttered. I sat up and took a deep breath. “I’m gonna be happy for her, no matter who it is she ends up with.”

“Jens. Why can’t she end up with you?”

“She’s literally dating someone else right now. I can’t just tell her ‘hey I’ve been in love with you basically the entire time we’ve known each other. I know you’re with Derek and love him but how about you dump him and be with me instead.’ I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” asked Jared. I got up and carried the phone with me into the closet, picking out a pair of dark skinny jeans to tug on. “It’s not wrong. When it comes to love-”

“Jared...it’s not about right and wrong. I couldn’t give two fucks about Derek and how he feels. But it could hurt Y/N, make her resent me and make things awkward. I could lose her completely. Derek’s got such a hold over her as is. If I say something and she picks him then I lose her for good. And I’m not willing to risk that. I barely get to see her now. I’m not making that never again.”

“So you’re planning on what, settling and marrying someone you sort of love?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I growled. I put on a belt and went over to my button downs, stopping at the charcoal gray one. Y/N always commented on how pretty I looked in that gray. I took it off the hanger and undid the buttons, sticking my arms through the sleeves. Jared was quiet but the call was still going. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s not easy.”

“It’s just...she’s my girl and...unless she miraculously decides to drop the dickhead’s ass…Jared I have tried dating many, many times. I can love another woman. But it’s nothing like what I feel for her.”

“Jensen. We’ve been having this conversation for years. You have to tell her. Tell her tonight. Be brave for five seconds. Y/N loves you. Even if she doesn’t feel the same she will not cut you out of her life. I promise. You have to get an answer so you can move on with your life one way or the other.”

I sat down on the padded bench in the middle of the closet, looking over to where a set of drawers were, a picture of me and Y/N sat on top.

“She’s never shown an ounce of attraction for me. Not a shred of it. What’s the point?”

“Not a shred? Are you still an idiot?”

“Did she say something?” I asked, standing up and going to the drawers, grabbing deodorant off the top and putting it on.

“No. But she’s called you handsome a gajillion times and she cares about you. You put those together and boom, you got love.” I rolled my eyes and stood in front of the mirror, doing up the buttons. “Jensen.”

“What?”

“Please tell her tonight.”

“...I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Tonight. Before she’s married someday and you end up regretting it. You’re not a wimp. I know you can do this.”

I smoothed out my shirt and rolled up the sleeves, tucking them in so most of my forearms were bare.

“Jensen...I need to hear you say it.”

“If it goes bad tonight...can you come over and have a drink?”

“You call me and I’m there.”

“I gotta finish getting ready. I’ll text you later if it’s a good night or not,” I said.

“Give it a shot dude. It’ll be okay,” said Jared. I hung up and took a deep breath, closing my eyes.

“You tell her tonight. You tell her tonight and either is goes really good or really bad,” I said to myself. I slowly opened my eyes and swallowed thickly. “Please let it be good.”

Reader POV

“Y/N,” said Jensen. You played idly with the straw in your glass, the two of you waiting at the restaurant bar for your table. He thumbed under your eye and pulled away a stray tear, your eyes slowly shutting. “Can you let them know to cancel the table for Ackles?”

The bar tender hummed and Jensen grabbed your wrist and jacket, pulling you outside of the restaurant.

“Here,” he said, throwing your jacket over your shoulders, sighing when you kept your head low. “What happened?”

“Not here,” you whispered. He gave you a squeezing hug and kissed the top of your head before you made your way to your car.

“Give me your keys. I’ll drive you to my place, you can take a hot bath and relax while I swing back out here to get some food and my car, okay? Unless you have to get back to Derek?”

You lifted your head up and shook your head, Jensen nodding.

“Okay. We can talk later.” You sighed and dug out your keys, handing them over before climbing inside. He didn’t say a word on the twenty minute drive to his place, only speaking to say you could put on whatever of his clothes you wanted before he was leaving you alone and waiting for an Uber to take him back downtown. You locked his bedroom door after yourself and undressed, walking into his bathroom and looking around. You’d only been in it once after it was freshly renovated and it was still far too grand for Jensen. Sure, he had nice tastes and occasionally the amount of money he dropped on things made your eyes jump out of your head. But he still preferred simple clothes and cars for the most part in everyday life.

You stepped over to the shower and turned it on, sighing as the hot gentle rain-like setting hit your back. You were grateful to see a plain bottle of liquid soap on the shelf, sniffling a little but the steam doing wonders for your sinuses. By the time you were out of the shower and wearing one of Jensen’s shirts and a rolled up pair of sweats, he’d already texted you that he was on his way back. Part of you wanted to curl up in his bed and cry but your stomach was rumbling and Jensen’s bed was not the best place to eat dinner.

You went downstairs and over to where he kept his liquor, staring at the bottles before grabbing three of them and going to town. You put the leftovers in a large glass in the fridge for now, plopping an ice cube in your smaller one and sitting at the counter sipping away when the garage door opened. You looked over your shoulder and heard the alarm system be turned on, Jensen smiling softly as he walked in with a large bag of food.

“What ya drinking?” he asked.

“Made some Negronis. I know you like those. More in the fridge,” you said, knocking back the rest of the drink. You got up and poured yourself another, Jensen washing up at the sink.

“Mind if I have one of those?” he asked. You shook your head and got a smaller glass for him to finish off the rest, smiling when you saw a bottle of wine come out along with the food containers.

“I didn’t realize you got booze,” you said.

“I got the feeling we need it. It’s a merlot,” he said, your face frowning when you saw the label. “I thought you liked it when I got it for you for christmas last year.”

“I thought I told you not to spend hundreds of dollars on wine. Or anything for me ever again,” you said.

“Too late,” he said, humming as he found some wine glasses. You grabbed a container and peeled it open, swallowing as you stared at it. “You don’t want tacos? I thought you were dying for-”

You started to cry, Jensen sighing and walking around the island. He pulled you into a hug, letting you get out a few shaky breaths into his chest.

“Sh,” he murmured, running a hand over your head. He stood there and held you for a few minutes until his stomach rumbled and you managed to take a deep inhale.

“I’m sorry. We should eat,” you said. You turned away and tugged the take out container closer, sniffling some. Jensen walked behind you and to the corner of the kitchen, getting the box of tissues before taking a quiet seat next to you. He didn’t say a word while you both ate. He only pushed the tissues closer when you sniffled loudly, a beat passing before you ripped one out and wiped off your face.

It was quiet in the house, almost too quiet and you felt like he could hear every thick swallow. You didn’t even see him finish his negroni and pour some wine for himself and a glass for you.

“Food was good,” he said softly when he finished with his burritos and you nodded, poking at the last of your first taco. “You gotta eat that way we can drink this whole bottle of wine and you won’t get sick.”

“Jens-”

“I got all your favorites,” he said, flipping open another container, a quesadilla and nachos sitting in it. “You gotta help me finish this off.”

“Jens,” you breathed. You squeezed your eyes shut and shuddered.

“I seriously doubt Derek is sitting at home crying. So fuck him cause I know this is his fault and eat until you’re stuffed and then we’ll get drunk and you can tell me how shitty he is.”

“You got tacos with chicken and extra lettuce and none of the lime sauce cause I don’t like it,” you whispered. “Even though it’s not the usual and it costs more.”

You picked up the taco and ate the last bite, grabbing a piece of quesadilla and ripping off a big chunk with your teeth.

“Did...you not want tacos?” he dared to ask. You laughed, finishing chewing and turning to him. He cocked his head, eyes so hesitant and concerned.

“You know my favorite take out order. I just really fucking appreciate that tonight,” you said. You took a deep breath and he wrapped an arm over your shoulders, giving your body a squeeze. “You have ice cream?”

“Always,” he said. “After we eat all this spicy cheesy goodness deal?”

You nodded and started to eat again, easier now that you weren’t fighting back so many tears. Jensen kept his arm around you though and you sunk back into the warmth he gave off. Your day was shit. Your life it turned out was shit. At least one particular part of life. You were enraged and sad and not to mention out thousands and thousands of dollars. You couldn’t dare mention that part to Jensen. He’d give you money like that if he found out.

“You want the last one?” he said with his mouth full, picking up the last piece of quesadilla and setting it in front of you before you could respond. He grabbed a fist full of nachos and proceeded to shove them in his mouth obnoxiously, a tiny smile appearing on your face. He hummed and coughed a little when he went to swallow, your hand whacking his back.

“Don’t keel over on me Ackles. I need ya,” you said, reaching for your glass of wine. He chewed and finished his food, letting out a deep burp. “Oh my god.”

“S’fucking good. Excellent choice of food,” he said while you ate the rest of your food. “Now you stay put.”

He got up and started to clean up before going to his fridge and opening the freezer. He tossed not one but three pints of ice cream up on the counter, one of them barely staying on if not for you reaching out to grab it.

“How the hell are you so fit with this much ice cream in your house at any given time,” you chuckled, Jensen getting out two spoons and hopping up on the counter, sitting cross legged as he grabbed the caramel vanilla one.

“Sadly I just naturally get to eat more cause of my size and I’m a dude. Plus a juice cleanse for a week will really fuck you up and make you look a certain way,” he said.

“You also get paid to look a certain way Mr. Model,” you teased, Jensen groaning as you reached for the chocolate fudge. “If I got paid I’d work out more.”

“You’re hot. You work out plenty. You know one trainer even told me once to just walk when I had that stomach thing going on and couldn’t workout hard. It so works,” he said.

“Yeah but I’d rather have ice cream than be hot,” you said. He smirked and shook his head.

“You got both so it must be your lucky day,” he said. You looked ahead, stabbing your spoon into the ice cream. You heard the sound of more wine pouring into your glass, a finger grazing your cheek a moment later. “You gonna tell me what happened?”

“Jensen, why are we friends?”

“Was it something I did that-”

“No and you know that. We haven’t hung out in months because Derek hates all of my guy friends. I shouldn’t have even texted you earlier,” you said as you stood. You didn’t even get a step before he caught your bicep and you were looking away.

“You’re one of my best friends. You ask me to be there and I’m there. It’s that simple.” You sat back down, drinking some wine and eating a spoonful of ice cream before Jensen tucked your hair behind your ear. “We are friends because we were both new in town and both learning a lot together at the same time and no other realtor on earth I know takes her clients to get tacos to seal a deal. You have been my best friend for six years. I know you. Tell me what he did.”

“You know how I thought, how I told you for months he’s been dropping hints about getting married?” You swallowed, breathing deeply. “You know how he splits his time between here and New York City? Apparently he’s got a girlfriend there too. Not just a girlfriend. A fiance. They get married in three months. I’ve been the other woman for two years it turns out. And the worst part is she knew about me the whole time because I was just ‘fun’ for him while he was working here, that I was never anything but a ‘good fuck’ for him. That is what I found out today Jensen.”

He set down his spoon and reached over with both hands, pulling you up to the counter. He moved you into his lap and hugged you hard, his arms easing away some of the tension.

“The worst part is I knew I was settling,” you said quietly. “I loved him but it was a comfortable love. I liked the idea of being loved by him but I never felt that something I knew was missing. I did it to myself.”

“No you didn’t. He did. He did all of it,” he said. “Tomorrow we’ll go over and get all of your stuff out of that apartment and you can stay here until you figure out what you want to do.”

“You never liked him but you were still nice to him and I should have listened to you instead of wasting my fucking life-”

“You haven’t wasted anything. He was one part of your life. Just one. You are amazing and your life is just going to get better from here on out I guarantee. He’s the one with a pathetic life. Marrying a girl who’s okay with that fucked up guy? He’ll never experience real love. He’s a loser and he’s always going to be one. You...now you get to be happy and free and someday find that love you want and I know it hurts honey, I know. I know. But he isn’t worth another damn shitty feeling.”

“I know. I’m just scared,” you said, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He rubbed your back gently, shushing you quietly. “I’m thirty two. I thought I’d be married and have at least one kid and a house by now. I feel like it’ll be too late soon.”

“Well I got five years on you and all I have is the house. It’s never too late.”

“Yeah but you can find anyone anytime you want Jensen.” You lifted your head, surprised to see a frown on his face. “Sorry.”

“No I can’t. Forget about it. I just want you to not give up hope. You’ll get married and find someone when you’re supposed to and right now you’re just not supposed to. That’s all,” he said. “You don’t need someone to make you happy. I know you don’t.”

“It’s just been a really long day,” you said, Jensen pulling you into his chest again. “I don’t want to cry over that fucking asshole anymore.”

“Then don’t. We have our ice cream and our wine and I’ll give you as many hugs as you need and then some. Deal?”

“Yeah. Yeah that sounds good to me Ackles.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #jensen #jensen x you

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allelitesmut · 3 years

Text

Losing His Bite

After CM Punk overhears her talking shit about him backstage, he corners her and shows her just how much he hasn’t lost his edge.

Pairing: CM Punk x OFC

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Smut (minors dni), rough sex, spanking, daddy kink, choking, fingering, edging

“Best in the World, my ass.” I muttered under my breath, only to be met with an elbow from Anna Jay. We were sitting in the last row of folding chairs, lined up in front of the practice ring, watching along with a decent portion of the roster as CM Punk sparred with a rotating cast of wrestlers from Dark. “I’m sorry, but this is every week now. He’s such a pretentious dickhead.”

“He is gonna hear you!” She hissed back at me, her eyes flitting back to the ring. I rolled my eyes with a scoff.

“Please. He’d have to shut the fuck up for more than thirty seconds to hear anything anyone says.” I crossed my leg over my knee, leaning back in my chair. “And we all know he likes hearing himself talk too much for that.” My eyes lingered on him, rolling out of a feeble attempt at a pin. He paused, taking a moment to coach his current sparring partner, Fuego del Sol, through the moment.

“What exactly is your problem with him? He’s just trying to help.” Anna pressed, leaning in to me so her voice wouldn’t be heard by the people around us. Punk hit Fuego with a running knee strike in the corner and the noise echoed around the open space.

“She’s just bitter that he offered critiques on her last match.” Tay teased with a raised brow. I huffed; that was entirely beside the point. I could take criticism. I just didn’t need it from him.

“I just don’t see what right he has to tell all these people that have been wrestling for years what they should be doing. He’s barely wrestled in seven years.” I could feel my voice raising slightly but struggled to contain myself. “He walks around here like he’s a masterclass on wrestling when, honestly, even seven years ago, calling himself the Best in the World was a stretch. But now? It’s straight up laughable.” I was drawing attention from the row in front of us and Anna cut me a pointed look, pressing her lips together to hide her amusement.

“Okay, well I’m gonna continue watching as long as he wants to keep giving these little performances. The man is sexier than he’s ever been.” Tay clicked her tongue behind her teeth with an indulgent grin. I choked back a laugh, shaking my head. As much as I hated to admit it, she wasn’t wrong. The man had aged like a fine wine - the white in his beard absolutely worked for him.

“Fine, yeah, I’ll give you that. He’s got that whole ‘spank me, daddy’ thing going…” I begrudgingly admit, and Anna let out a too-loud laugh, earning a few looks from those around us. “But that’s half the problem. You just know he would disappoint. The man doesn’t have the bite that he used to. There’s no part of me that believes he could or would actually manhandle me the way I’d want.”

“Oh come on! That man is a certified expert and you know it. I’ve got no doubt he could make you beg for it with one hand tied behind his back.” Tay prodded and I rolled my eyes. Anna pushed her tongue against her cheek, one brow raised in serious consideration.

“Maybe a decade ago. Maybe. But it’s just like his wrestling. Back then, the only thing that really made him interesting was the way he wasn’t afraid to publicly tell Vince to go fuck himself. But look at him now, sitting side by side with Tony with a huge smile on his face. He doesn’t have a disrespectful bone left in his body. The only thing he is these days is a certified lap dog.” That comment garnered me a few snickers and I started to wonder if I wasn’t getting a bit too loud. Glancing up at the ring, Punk wasn’t wrestling anymore but still seemed decently distracted by a conversation with Fuego. “Lap dogs aren’t making anybody beg.” I tried to control my volume again and Anna waved me off.

“I don’t know. You don’t get cocky enough to call yourself the best in the world without something to back it up. Like it or not, the mans got big dick energy.”

“Oh please. That’s overcompensation if I’ve ever heard it. I’ve been promised the ‘best in the world’ by the three least memorable fucks of my life.” I swear, I really was trying to keep my voice down but either I was out of self control, or our conversation had just drawn a dedicated audience, because that time several people laughed out loud. Punk’s eyes lingered on me for a few moments, his expression sharp but almost amused, and a warmth bloomed in my belly. He traced his tongue along the edge of his teeth before finally letting his focus drift back to Fuego.

“I get the feeling that sleeping with him would be pretty damn unforgettable.”

My eyes were glued to him, his tee clung tight to his chest and wrapped around his biceps, perfectly outlining the incredibly toned body beneath it. Tony Khan had made his way out to the ring and was encouraging people to get ready as it was nearly time for doors to open. Punk clasped his hands over his head, stretching back just enough for his shirt to ride up, and expose a bit of skin along the cut of his hips. I licked my lips subconsciously and barely noticed the way Anna elbowed Tay, drawing her attention to me.

Pretentious dickhead or not, he really was fine as hell. So much sexier than he had any right to be.

The crowd dispersed at Tony’s suggestion so I parted ways with the girls, and made my way back to the locker room to get changed into my ring gear. Pausing in front of the mirror, I fluffed my hair and adjusted my top before heading back out into the hall.

The moment I turned the corner, my arm was yanked back from behind and I was plastered against the brick wall. The cool bricks were rough against the bare skin of my back. My breath caught in my throat when my eyes peeled up to see Punk inches from my face, his hands pinning me in on either side of my head. His face was twisted into an amused smile, a predator thrilled to be toying with his prey.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I breathed out, aiming for confident but falling short. He smelled like mint and sandalwood and it was scrambling my brain.

“You’ve got a big mouth, sweetheart.” His voice was low and cocky, acutely aware of the effect his closeness was having on me. I raised my brows back, feigning ignorance. He had to have heard me earlier. Shit. I just hoped he hadn’t heard too much. “What? Nothing to say now?” I straightened my back, attempting to salvage whatever courage I had.

“Pretty sure I already said everything I had to say.” I challenged in defiance. His tongue smoothed against the inside of his bottom lip, breathing out incredulously. I held his gaze and tried to ignore the way the heat of his body seeped into every inch of me.

“You think I’ve lost my bite, hmm?” His eyes were intense on me, amusement fading with every second. Well fuck, if he heard that, he’d been listening for way longer than I’d hoped. I fought not to let my face falter.

“If you ever had any.” I shot back, pressing my luck, and his buttons. A half step brought his body flush against mine and I struggled not to let my eyes wander down to his arms, taut, on either side of my head. His head dipped down, lips brushing against my ear, and a shiver rolled down my spine.

“I can promise you, sweetheart, I’ve still got plenty of bite.” His teeth raked over my earlobe and I forced a whimper to die at the back of my throat. “And I don’t appreciate bratty girls disrespecting me in front of the locker room.”

I probably should have apologized. I’d been unnecessarily rude and I knew the right thing to do was apologize. But the rapidly warming parts low in my belly desperately wanted to know what he did with bratty girls that disrespected him.

“It’s not disrespectful to tell the truth.” I licked my lips, trying to combat the way my mouth had gone dry. He leaned back enough to meet my eyes again.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have the experience to know whether or not I’m capable of sufficiently manhandling you.” His lips curled up teasingly. “Not yet, anyway.” I flushed, pressing my thighs together at the insinuation, hoping to provide some friction. The way his cock was beginning to press against my stomach, I knew I wouldn’t need to push much harder.

"I don't need experience to know you'd leave me unsatisfied." My words, heavily coated in a guise of disinterest, had every ounce of amusement draining from his face. His eyes narrowed on me, a sharp breath blowing out his nose. I was playing with fire now.

"You'd better watch yourself, brat. You only get one warning." His voice was cold now, dropped to a tone that made me ache down to my core.

“Or what? You don’t have the balls to do shit about it, old man.” I jut my chin up, lips pressed into a confident smirk. The last of his patience snapped in an instant, bringing his rough, tattooed hand to my throat, squeezing just below the line of my jaw. My lips fell open in a desperate pant. He fumed, grinding his teeth together as he held my gaze. His breath was hot against my face, my panties flooding from his palpable anger.

A few loaded beats passed in silence, his eyes laser focused on me, pupils blown. before he dove into me. His lips met mine in an angry, frenzied kiss that was all teeth clashing and gasps for breath. My hand flew up to tangle in his hair and I angled my hips into his. He used his free hand to forcefully push my hip flat against the wall and grind into me. Bending his knees, he rolled his hips hard, hiking me up the wall until my legs wrapped around his waist. He bit down hard on my lower lip and I moaned into him, rocking back against his growing erection.

When we pulled apart, my lips were swollen and my chest heaved, struggling to bring in steady breaths. He smoothed his thumb up and down the hollow of my throat, almost affectionately, and his eyes raked up and down my body.

“Come with me.” He demanded but didn’t give me much of a choice as he lifted me off the wall and wandered down the hall with me. I clung hard to him, lips fluttering down over his stubbled jawline. He paused, pressing me back against the wall as we turned another corner and my head fell back, his teeth grazing against my pulse point. “How’s this for bite?” He snarled, let me back onto my feet before dragging me after him around yet another corner.

“Where are you taking me?” My voice was practically a moan. He glanced back at me, mischief etched into every line of his face.

“I’m going to show you just how disrespectful I can be.” His tongue swept across his lips and my core clenched at the promise in his voice.

Finally we came to a stop and he pushed me back against a door, lips colliding with mine as he fumbled with the doorknob. I stumbled backwards as he got it open and he followed me inside, kicking the door closed behind us.

Taking a second to glance around, I saw a make-shift office space - a small desk with a computer and leather office chair. Punk didn’t pause, taking my hand and leading me after him as he took a seat in the chair. Yanking hard at my hand, he drew me closer. I went to sit on his lap but he stopped me, leaning back in his seat and pulling down hard, causing me to stumble and fall so I was face down, draped across his lap.

Whimpering, I squirmed, realizing what he was up to. His hand laid flat across the small of my back, pinning me in place, his free hand smoothing over the swell of my ass.

“What was it you said earlier, brat?” He teased, fingers squeezing hard into the thick flesh of my ass before he delivered a sharp smack. I yelped, wriggling in his lap. “‘Spank me, daddy’? Why don’t you count to ten for me, then let me know how much of a ‘disappointment’ I am.”

I swallowed hard as his fingers curled into the waist of my wrestling shorts, ripping them down hastily along with my panties. He rubbed a hand over the bare skin of my ass before giving it a firm swat, testing my limits. I whined and he tutted his disapproval.

“Count.”

“One.” I squeaked out and he soothed over the reddened skin.

“Good girl. I knew you could listen.” He cooed derisively before delivering a smack that was considerably harder than the last. Heat seared through my skin and my yelp echoed around the room. “Come on, babygirl, don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten the only rule.”

“Two.” I whimpered and he responded with another swift smack. “Three.” I ground into his leg, my fingers curling around the edge of his thigh. He soothed over the heated skin with his palm and my muscles relaxed just in time for him to pull back and deliver the most painful blow so far. I cried out, my legs flailing behind me.

“Aww, too much for you, kitten? Do you need daddy to stop?” He chided and I didn’t have to see his face to know the smug look he was wearing. I bared my teeth, shaking my head. No chance I was going to let him get that satisfaction.

“Four.” I hissed, and he chuckled. He smoothed his fingers over the swell of my ass and over my thighs before moving back up to give me three rapid fire smacks to the other ass cheek. I hummed wildly to try to distract from the burning that had spread across my entire ass. “Five, six, seven.”

I could feel the moisture rolling down my thighs, my arousal mounting and making me dizzy. His erection was pressed demandingly against my stomach.

“Taking your punishment like a good girl. Almost there.” His rubbed small circles over my ass and I squirmed in his lap. When he raised his hand again, I flinched and he gave a taunting laugh, pausing with his hand hovering above me. He waited for me to relax again before spanking me once on each cheek.

“Eight, nine.” I gasped out through gritted teeth. Raking over my lip, I readjusted on his lap and prepared for the final blow. The skin of my ass was practically pulsing with red hot pain. He hooked an arm under my hips, yanking me back up into position and blowing a cool breath over the sting. Letting me settle back down, he drew his hand up and brought it down for one last unforgiving smack. I whimpered, burying my face into the leather of the chair. “Ten.”

“There, see? You can behave.” He soothed over the welts that were forming on my ass and I wriggled. “Now tell me, was that a disappointment?” His hand slipped down between my thighs, two fingers delving into my slick folds, embarrassingly soaked. “Doesn’t feel like a disappointment.”

He didn’t wait for a response, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive skin. I let out a needy moan, already wound tight enough to burst. I rocked my hips back against his fingers and he buried them deep inside me. As he worked up a rhythm, pumping his fingers in and out, he used his other hand to wrap around my neck, pulling me toward him and making me arch my back. He laid sloppy kisses by my ear while I desperately bucked toward my release.

“That’s it, baby. Ride my fingers. Make yourself cum on my hand. Make a mess for me.” His voice was a dirty rasp, growled between nibbles at my earlobe. I couldn’t think straight, working myself on his fingers as my eyes rolled back. He shifted his hand just enough to bring his thumb down on my clit and I cried out, pressure swelling low in my gut.

“Fuck, daddy, please!” My cries were muffled when he surged forward to meet my lips. His fingers hammered into me as I shook in his lap, spiraling over the edge and squeezing tight around his digits.

He worked me through the aftershocks of my orgasms but didn’t give me time to breathe before hoisting me to my feet and backing me against the deck. Guiding me onto the desktop, he leaned in and nudged my legs apart, stepping between them. I didn’t hesitate to wrap them around him and he pressed the tips of his fingers against my lips. He urged them into my mouth with a satisfied groan.

“Do you taste what I can do to you?” He rocked his hips into my bare core and I moaned around his fingers. Sliding them out of my mouth, he used them to grip my jaw. “Does it feel like I’m over compensating?” I shook my head, biting down on my lower lip. “Tell me what you want.” He demanded, hand slipping around into my hair while the other pushed my top up over my breasts.

“Fuck me, daddy.” It wasn’t a request, my hands already fiddling with his belt. His lips curled into a cocky grin before he leaned in, wrapping his lips around my exposed nipple. I moaned out, yanking down his zipper, nearly frantic as I reached into his boxers and pulled out his throbbing cock.

Stroking him a few times, I shoved his jeans to the ground, my head falling back when he bit down at my peaked nipple. His tongue swirled around it and I angled him toward my entrance. He rolled his hips up, pushing inside me and stretching my walls. I raked my nails down his back, digging into taut muscle, with a broken cry.

“Fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.” He groaned, his face buried in my chest. Rocking in and out of me, he urged me down until I was flat on my back. He wrapped a hand around my throat, squeezing the sides. I desperately gripped around the desk for any hold I could get.

My tits bounced with every hard thrust he gave me, spearing straight through my core. He grunted loudly in time with his hips and it only drove me crazier. The decreased oxygen made my brain fuzzy, my cries becoming breathy and needy.

“That’s it, pretty girl, squeeze my cock.” He snarled, releasing my throat and sending a rush of air to my brain that set dots prickling through my vision. He gripped my waist with both hands and moved to a brutal pace, rocking up into my sweet spot. My walls began to clench around him as my insides coiled up tight. “Do you need to cum, baby?” I cried out, unable to form any coherent thoughts, and he didn’t slow down.

“Please, please, I need it, please!” I arched my back up off the desk and he hooked my leg, lacing his arm under my knee, allowing him to bottom out in me. He slowed to a rough, deliberate pace and I whimpered, my orgasm ebbing.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it.” He demanded, punctuating it with a hard thrust that made me cry out. “Tell me I’m the best in the world.”

My head fell back in frustration, the last stubborn piece of me desperately clinging on. He drove up into me pointedly and I screamed out.

“Fuck!” I arched up, hands sending papers fluttering to the ground.

“Say it.” He worked back up to a faster pace and I struggled to control myself. “Come on, kitten. Say it.” He repeated, his finger jamming on my clit and making me moan out.

My brain was little more than a fog now, every muscle in my body tensing, my toes curling in my boots.

“Just say it and you can cum. That’s all it takes.” He coaxed and I shuddered, my legs shaking. His fingers moved faster against my clit until I was dangling by the thinnest thread. When I didn’t respond, he slowed his pace again, my orgasm fading from my grasp again, and I made a whiny, manic sound that I’d never heard leave my mouth before. “I can do this all night, sweetheart. Just say those magic words and I’ll give you what you need.”

He started working me up close again, hiking my leg from his elbow, up onto his shoulder. Pumping his hips hard into me, he slipped his hands under my lower back, angling me so he could brush against my sweet spot every time. My head spun as he circled my clit, gasping for breaths between moans.

“Say it, baby.” He used his free hand to grope at my breast and I trembled from head to toe.

“Fine! Fine! You’re the best in the world, daddy! Fuck, please, just let me cum!” I screamed out and he grinned.

“That’s my girl. Now let go.” He pinched my nipple and hammered harder into me as my walls pulsed.

It didn’t take longer than a few more moments before he sent me toppling over the edge, my vision dissolving into a blur of spots. I shook hard, arching off the desk and squealed. He coaxed me through it until my brain simmered back into place. He pumped a few more times before pulling out and releasing thick ropes of cum across my stomach with a groan.

Slowly, he eased my leg down off his shoulder, leaning in to pepper kisses over my chest. I let my head fall back and laced my fingers through his hair. When my eyes finally fluttered back open, they roamed over the papers that were strewn across the desk. My sight came into focus and I saw a variety of different sheets, sketching out the line up for the next month of Dynamite matches and the reality of where we were hit hard.

“Is this Tony’s office?” I gaped, sitting up straight, and Punk smirked, tongue laving over his lip.

“I’d recently been accused of not being capable of disrespecting my boss. I couldn’t let that go unanswered.” He fished through the top drawer of the desk, pulling out a few napkins. Helping wipe his mess from my stomach, he let his eyes flick back up to meet my own with an indulgent grin. An arousing sense of unease settled in my gut at the thought of having fucked on my boss’ desk.

He offered a hand out to me, helping me to my feet, and instantly dragged me flush against his chest. His hand tangled in my hair, pulling me to his lips for a fiery kiss that left me breathless.

“Hope I cleared up your doubts.” His half step back gave me the space to pull my ring gear on. I ran my tongue slowly across my lip, batting my lashes.

“Something like that.” I retorted and he shook his head with an amused smile.

“Well I’m happy to prove it to you again any time, sweetheart.” He reached out, running a hand through my thoroughly mussed hair. I attempted to shrug noncommittally, but my thighs clenched at the thought and he could see right through my attempt at playing it cool.

“I might take you up on that.” I conceded and he smirked, giving my hair a light, parting tug before opening the door for me.

“Good. Now get out there and kill it in your match. Don’t forget the advice I gave you last week.” He winked, knowing well that he was pushing me, and I glared at him. Swatting my ass, he ushered me out and I winced, my ass stinging from my punishment. “And maybe avoid any moves that land you on that sweet, welted ass.”

“Funny.” I rolled my eyes as we stepped out and he closed the door behind us. He was still a pretentious dickhead but, god, fuck me if I wasn’t already dreaming about letting him prove himself again.

#CM Punk smut #CM Punk fanfiction #CM Punk imagine #aew fic #aew smut #aew fanfiction #CM Punk #CM Punk x ofc

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