#like my mom watched that religiously when i was a kid and i was so anxious | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tteokdoroki · 8 months

Text

✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body.

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal.

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock.

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.”

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?”

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell.

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride.

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.”

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base.

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise.

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks.

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!”

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms his hard and heavy cock as he pleases.

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears.

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires.

you think you prefer that side of you more.

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.”

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation.

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle.

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends.

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him.

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell.

that day, you learn two valuable lessons:

one — never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills.

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

5K notes · View notes

carolmunson · 7 months

Text

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down.

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery.

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.”

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later.

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head.

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere.

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.”

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?”

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?”

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.”

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?”

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?”

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow.

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on.

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you.

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch.

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before.

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears.

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough.

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.”

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.”

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.”

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.”

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly.

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.”

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death.

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.”

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily.

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.”

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.”

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.”

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper.

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge.

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.”

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.”

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat.

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.”

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes.

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story.

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you.

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…”

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #kas!eddie #kas!eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fiction #tw: dubcon #tw: dub-con #dark!eddie #dark!eddie munson

1K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 7 months

Text

Excerpt from an in-progress DP x DC soulmate AU starring Jazz Fenton, a very unfortunate mugger, and a smoothie. Oh, and I guess Jason is there too.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley.

Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie.

Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas.

Well, it is Gotham.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, sorry, one sec," Jazz says, then leans over the groaning mugger and offers him a card to the best local crisis center she's managed to track down via research and word of mouth in the four months she's been in Gotham. Not her card, obviously, since she just roundhouse-kicked the guy in the head to protect her soulmate from him and that's arguably a conflict of interest. Or close enough, anyway. "So you should check these guys out, they've got a very high success rate in their job program and there's an associated food bank and rent assistance, if you qualify."

"What?" the mugger says dazedly.

"Also if you ever touch my soulmate again I'll make you wish for the cold mercy of the Infinite Realms," Jazz adds pleasantly. The guy goes very, very pale. Then he snatches the card from her and runs for his life and eternal soul.

"This is the nicest thing the universe has ever done to me," her soulmate muses, taking another sip of his smoothie.

"Getting you mugged?" Jazz asks wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you religious? Do you want kids?" her soulmate asks. "Also, who's your favorite Bat?"

"Robin, obviously," Jazz says. "The overdramatic and feral little stabby one, I mean. He reminds me of my little brother. Makes me feel a little bit maternal, to be honest. So that answers two out of three, and as far as religion goes, I only believe in Psychology Today, highly customized guns, and my mom's ninth-degree black belt."

"This better not awaken anything in me," her soulmate mutters under his breath.

"That seems unlikely, or we wouldn't be soulmates," Jazz says.

"Point," he says, sipping his smoothie again. Jazz didn't even know anywhere in Crime Alley sold smoothies, but she is new around here. "Wanna go break my bed? Or maybe go get coffee?"

"You've already got a smoothie," Jazz says.

"So I do," he says.

Jazz looks him over. He's her soulmate, so she's not surprised to find him gorgeous. She wasn't ever expecting a familial soulmate–Danny is a very intense sibling to have, and her parents are very intense parents to have, not to mention everything about Dani, and "soulcousins" aren't typically a thing–and she's never been especially interested in keeping around too many close friends, so considering all that, she was already expecting her soulmate to be a romantic one. If they are platonic, it's definitely only going to be because her soulmate is an aromantic asexual. Which he probably isn't, since he already asked about kids and religion and if she wanted to go break his bed.

Then again, she's met people who'll posture worse than that. Especially guys, and especially ace ones with a clear investment in their masculinity, and given this particular guy is built like a brick house could only dream to be, chances are he has some feelings about his masculinity. Though he's also drinking a visibly pink smoothie, not a neutral-colored protein shake or generic black coffee, so . . . fifty-fifty there, maybe?

Further inquiry will probably be required.

"I'm Jazz," she tells him. "What's your name?"

"Robin," he says. Then he–pauses. Blinks. "I mean–Robin."

He looks very confused for a second, and Jazz blinks too, and refocuses her eyes a bit. Oh, is he–

"Are you overshadowing that guy?" she assumes. For the love of–of course her soulmate would be a ghost, she thinks dryly. Who'd want a soulmate their mom and dad wouldn't want to grill for information and ask a thousand invasive questions, after all? "I mean, he's really hot, don't get me wrong, he looks good on you, but I'd rather meet you for real."

"'Overshadowing'?" Robin looks bemused.

"I'm Danny's sister," Jazz clarifies. Robin does not look less bemused. "You know, the new king?"

"What?" Robin says. Jazz frowns a little, feeling a bit bemused herself.

"Do you not get out much?" she asks.

"Never, actually, but also yes and constantly and way too often," Robin says. "My job is kind of demanding that way."

"What's your job?" Jazz asks curiously. Ghosts' jobs are always interesting, even if only for how they interact and manifest with their Obsessions. She wonders what his Obsession is, actually, because smoothies seem like an unlikely option but she doesn't have much else to go on here.

Can't be weirder than Box Ghost, either way.

"I'm a Bat," Robin says, then looks absolutely alarmed and also absolutely horrified.

"Huh," Jazz says, tilting her head. He seems really big to be one of the Robins, and a little too old besides. A year or two younger than her, maybe, and even the older Robin she's pretty sure is at best Danny's age. Though that's assuming this body is the one he fights crime in, admittedly. Although it's kinda funny if one of the Bats is just named Robin. Must get annoying on patrol, though. "I didn't know any of you were dead, but I guess that's not actually a surprise either, given the profession."

"Why did I say that to you?" Robin asks tightly.

"I told you, I'm the new king's sister," Jazz says. "You know, it's the royal family thing. Technically I'm his regent, legally speaking, but only because I'm better at paperwork and he doesn't count as a legal adult in the Infinite Realms yet. Hasn't been dead long enough, you know how it is. But I've been alive long enough to, apparently? But his 'being alive' technically stopped tracking at fourteen. It's complicated, basically."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Robin demands.

"It means you can't lie to me because you're one of my brother's subjects," Jazz says, really not understanding his reaction. Every ghost knows this, after all. The only ones who wouldn't know it are too young to be away from their guardians' haunts or even leave the Infinite Realms at all. Definitely a ghost who knows how to overshadow someone this thoroughly and fully is old enough and experienced enough to know it, though. "Whose body is that, anyway?"

"It's my father's," Robin says. Jazz's eyes widen a little and she has several very concerned internal reactions before he chokes and sputters–"I mean–it's not–he's not–!"

"You realize there is no healthy way to mean that, right?" Jazz says. Robin looks frustrated and freaked out and she feels bad about it, because she didn't mean or want to upset him, but she clearly has. "Sorry. I mean, I still secretly feel like I'm the one parenting my parents half the time, you're not the only one with weird feelings about yours."

"I'm his," Robin says, then grits his teeth in visible pain. He's this close to crushing the smoothie cup he's holding but hasn't actually done it. Jazz wonders if that's an example of deliberate self-control or subconscious restraint.

She's pretty sure Robin didn't mean to say that, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a little concerned. Normally ghosts just stop talking about things they want to lie about, when they realize who she is.

"No," Robin says. "I'm just his. I've always been his, I always will be, his good soldier, his worst mistake, not his actual fucking son, why am I telling you this?!"

"I don't know," Jazz says, frowning in increased concern. "Usually people can work around the inability to lie a little bit, but you sound like you're being compelled to speak. Increasingly like, actually. Hm. What's your Obsession? And what kind of core do you have?"

"What?" he says.

"They might be making you unstable, is all," Jazz says. "I don't think it'd be a soulmate thing but to be fair I don't really know how that works. Are you dead, or are you a manifestation of something?"

"I'm dead," Robin says, staring at her. "That bastard clown beat my head in with a crowbar and blew up what was left of me. I woke up in my grave and–I–how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't, that's why I asked," Jazz says reasonably, idly wondering why the Joker isn't dead yet, since this is Gotham and obviously it wouldn't be another "bastard clown" Robin was referencing, even if he wasn't a Bat. But like, at least dead via the court system, if nothing else. The Joker is insane, yes, but no one can argue he doesn't know right from wrong at this point. Does New Jersey just not have the death penalty, maybe? She hasn't thought to check. "Maybe it's the guy you're in? He's not drunk or high or anything, is he?"

"I hate drugs," Robin says, gritting his teeth again; tightening his grip on the smoothie again. He's trembling, just barely. "I hate them. I'd never touch them. I don't know what you are. You're scaring me. Please stop."

He definitely didn't mean to say that, Jazz can tell.

But . . . he doesn't know what she is.

He doesn't know.

Well, that's a problem.

"Robin," she says gently, and for some reason his face twists painfully at the sound of his own name. "Can I see your core? Please?"

#hardcover ship #anger management ship #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #idk which order is 'accurate' here lol #jazz x jason #jason x jazz #rinfic #long post #wip: queen regent jazz and her dead soulmate

1K notes · View notes

queenjulia11 · 6 months

Text

As I’m sure you’ve all (unfortunately) heard by now, Ben goddamn motherfucking Shapiro is producing a conservative Bluey knock-off called Chip Chilla, about a homeschooling family of chinchillas — starring Rob goddamn motherfucking Schneider — and I need to talk about it.

Done throwing up yet? Cool.

This is obviously disgusting for several reasons but the thing that infuriates me the most is that the dad in this rip-off is largely absent in his kids lives and development and finds them annoying. One of the great things about Bluey is how deeply the parents (ESPECIALLY Bandit) love their kids even when they can get on their nerves or aren’t as easy to manage.

I reject the notion that playing with and loving your children is weak and lame. Bluey is revolutionary in that it dives headfirst into love for one’s family and being un afraid to express it. That’s one of the most badass and radical things that can be shown in media regardless of the age demographic, especially with the stereotype of moms being caretakers and dads finding ways to shut their kids up while the game is on.

You think you’re cool for not caring about love? You think you’re breaking new ground for not listening to your kids and caring deeply about their interests?

The problem is that Bluey is a show for families, and this pile of shit excuse of an animated series is a show for parents. Because they’re scared of educating their children to be radical with love — because what if they end up loving “the wrong people?”

These people don’t want to raise kind, compassionate and and curious humans — they want carbon copies of themselves. Congratulations, you’ve completely missed the point of parenting. Have fun at the retirement home! Repression and censorship is just delaying the inevitable. It’s love that makes people. How dare you throw it away like it’s nothing.

What’s even weirder is I feel like Bluey doesn’t even have that much about it that would make conservatives raise their eyebrows? There’s no obvious political or religious agenda in any direction, there aren’t any canon queer characters yet — none of the things in modern kids’ TV that would make a right-wing dumbass clutch their pearls and say “I could never show my innocent children something so depraved!”

It’s just. A happy family. Living their lives. Loving each other. How fucking weird and sad do you have to be to look at that and be like “hmm, no, this is not the message I want my kids to come away with.”

Anyway I know I’m probably preaching to the choir, but go watch Bluey. Go watch something made by people who care.

Edit: Thank you @potato-head-kids for providing the image description.

#Bluey #Bluey knock-off #cartoons #bandit heeler #seriously what the fuck #what is wrong with you #love is the coolest thing on the planet actually

680 notes · View notes

missdaytonawrites · 10 months

Text

so it goes... • a. anderson

summary - dominance & dumbification HC's abby treats her partner like a dumb baby!

WC - 711

cw/tw - 18+ MDNI, total dumbification/brain breaking, dominant!abby, submissive!reader. a lil' smutty nearing the end. afab!reader, talk of strap-ons, talk of food and eating. abby is very low-key pervy in this i love.

A/N - as abbys favorite dummy, i felt like i had a duty to fufill with this one. oopsie daisies! dont have much to say except: dont ask about the phantom fic, or why i have seemed to find a home on the abby train. just *shoves this at you* take this! read this!

you did a number on me, but honestly, baby.. whos counting?

• she knew just how smart, hard-working and headstrong you were ever since you shook her hand the day you two met. it made her wanna help, wanna take it all away, she wanted to be your peace.

• abby knows that in order to get you to fully surrender, she's gonna have to work. so she did, it took a bit of conditioning but in no time you were more than willing to just accept her control.

• little things like: getting up before you so she's so she can wake you up. pulling your panties up for you, brushing and washing your hair for you, patting your back when you accomplish something, calling you “kid” (raaaaaahshshshdhshdirnfhfm)

• she has a bulletin board hung in her at-home office.. littered with coloring sheets, love notes, original works and more from you. she cherishes it all. and loves the reminders of how little you do bc she does it all for you

• she DEF puts your shoes on/ties your laces for you.

• constantly running your baths for you, making them nice, lighting candles etc. most likely isn’t going to get in with you, she wants to sit out and monitor so you don't get hurt. when you need to get the shampoo out of your hair? she gets closer to the edge of the tub, nestles her hand on the nape of your neck, and holds you while she lays you back into the water. so you dont drown ofc. bc ur TOTALLY gonna drown in the bath lmao

• cooks for you, and maybe even feeds you when she's feeling like it.

• puts you down for naps in the afternoon, you have a little sleeping nook in her office so she can still keep an eye on you.

• teaches you to kneel at her feet when she comes home from work!!!! she tells you to lay your head in her lap and let her read!!!!

• abby is 100% buying you branded clothing.. panties with her initials, shirts that say “abby’s girl.” she went as far as to buy you a collar with “property of: abigail anderson.” inscribed on the inside. if she chokes you hard enough while fucking you, the words make an indent on your skin.

• ✨ abby's strap is clear ✨ idc idc! argue wit ya mom!!!!

• abby was never really a religious girl.. but she swears up to god above that she can feel you squeezing her strap.

• refers to it as “her” cock, “her” dick ashqtfgegyshhhhhhhhh

• abby loves loves LOVES orgasm controoool!!! she picks up on the little tell-tale signs that you’re going to cum fairly quickly, and it isnt long after until shes asking if she can teach you how to cum on command.

• gets you so so fucking close, and makes you hold it. starting at a one minute delay, then three minutes, then five. before stopping what shes doing entirely, denying you of climax.

• once she finally decided you’ve had enough. she makes you count down from ten before you can come, she does this over and over. breaking your brain and pushing you into deeper submission

• ??? the first time you fall into subspace ??? oh my stars, abby ‘bout loses her goddamn mind! she can literally watch all thoughts leave your head, loves watching you go all stupid. she takes account of the shift in your face, the sudden increase of spasms in your legs, the broken moans. she just keeps fucking you back on her cock, telling you how pretty you are when you dont think <3!

• “my sweet little braindead baby, huh?”

• “y’probably don't even know what that means, hm?”

• “ah- yes baby, thats my stupid girl.”

• “mmmm.. say ‘bye, bye’ to your brain with me, little girl”

• and then literally stops fucking you so she can make you wave n’ say "bye, bye brain” with her.

• aftercare GOD !!!

• her favorite is to just let you relish in the floaty feeling of the after-glow.

• “took my cock so well, dummy. m’so proud.”

• she gets you a glass of water and an ibuprofen, because lets be real: you’re already sore.

• turns on a movie and tucks you both in, giving you kisses, scratching your back.

• falls asleep absolutely pussy-drunk and with her nose buried in your hair.

mmkay, byeeeee!

#abby anderson #the last of us fanfiction #abby headcanons #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby x fem!reader #ellie williams smut #sapphic #tlou fic #lesbian #tlou2 #tlou hbo #ellie williams x female reader #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you

1K notes · View notes

youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 5 months

Text

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

Words: 2577

Warnings: angst, talks of a miscarriage, body image, talks of difficulty staying pregnant, mention of what is technically a still-birth, depression, suicidal thoughts, self-medicating, accidental suicide attempt (this is will make sense if you read it), probably poor writing and OOC characters but whatever

DC Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

IF THERE IS A WANT FOR A PART 2, I WILL DO ONE, IF NOT, THEN THIS STAYS AS A ONE-SHOT!

I mention Y/N goes to a church to pray, it is described more as a Christian or Catholic one (I really don't know the difference and I apologize) as she lights a candle before she prays. If you wish to skip that part, it starts with "Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral." and ends with "Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out.". I do also mention that the reader themselves aren't very religious (but grew up with it so reverted back to old practices to see if it helped)

Alfred is also dead in this (don't ask why he just is) so that's why he isn't here!

The POV here isn't really consistent. It jumps between being with the Batkids, Bruce, and Y/N's. I tried to make it flow though so hopefully that works!

I feel like I should mention:

Bruce and Y/N's ages don't matter (I'm not in the mood to deal with that) but; Dick is 31 (and married to Kori but that's not too important), Jason is 25, Tim is 22, Damian is 15, Cass is 24, and Steph is 23

I also am not too familiar with Duke, so that is why he isn't there much. Mostly just mentioned

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

7:25 AM

The kids watched as Y/N was silent as she put the plate down in front of Bruce's empty seat. They all noted how fake her smile looked as she looked up at them. "Alright, I will see you kids later!"

They all watched as she walked out of the dining room and once they knew she was out of earshot, they started talking.

"Did she eat anything?"

It was Jason, he had been the last down (well...outside of Tim) so he only saw her putting the plates down and ushering them to eat.

Dick shook his head, he had seen her the entire time she made breakfast. Fully clothed, which was unusual as she usually just made breakfast in her pajamas with her hair occasionally brushed. But not today. Today her hair was done, makeup was on, she was dressed as if she was working.

But everyone in that house knew she was still off after what happened, even though it had been 3 months since the incident.

Damian flicked at his food, "Ummi was supposed to take me to school today."

Dick smiled at Damian, "I can, Dami. Mom is just...preoccupied."

Damian hmphed and continued to play with his food. Dick was concerned for his younger brother. He knew that while he himself was close with the woman he had allowed to become his mother, Damian was so much more as she was really the only person who never got mad at him or made fun of him when he didn't understand something.

Jason abruptly stood, "Since mom isn't here, I'm just gonna go."

Dick raised a brow, "Really Jason? You're just gonna leave after--"

"Hey, we've been over this before Dick. I come because mom asks me to." He shrugged as he put his jacket on, "Plus, I'm going to follow her."

Stephanie snorted, "She'll kill you when she catches you."

"If she catches me. If."

Steph hummed, "My bets are on she will. Y/N is always on the lookout, especially after..." She faded and looked down, regret piling up inside her as she thought of what she was about to say.

"Either way, tell us what you find Jason."

He nodded to Dick's request before heading out the side door in the kitchen. Dick tapped his hand on the table for a minute before speaking; "I'm gonna go check on dad, Damian go get everything ready and I'll meet you at the entryway, alright?"

The eldest stood, placing a gentle hand on the youngest shoulder before heading to the stairs. Dick was concerned. He had never seen his mother so...shut off. Pretending like everything was alright even though everyone who saw her could tell that she was so close to jumping off of a bridge.

The closest that he had seen her to this was back when Jason died and she broke up with Bruce. But even then, she didn't avoid things that she had already planned. Even then, she stayed committed to things.

Plus, Dick knew she had no plans today. Well...no plans except for the fact that beforehand this would have been her due date. And he knew that that was most likely what had off-set her so badly.

Dick didn't even knock before opening the door to Bruce's study. He was even speaking before his father even looked up from his computer. "Have you talked to mom?"

Bruce raised a brow, "What?"

"Mom." Dick crossed his arms, "When was the last time you and her had a real conversation?"

Bruce shrugged, "I'm not sure." He looked at Dick oddly, "What are you going on about?"

Dick let out a hard sigh, "You two are married, it is your job to take care of her. Goddammit Bruce!" He threw his hands up in anger, "You know what? Nevermind, I'm not...I'm not even going to try."

He angrily turned and walked out of the room. He didn't even understand why he even thought that talking to Bruce would help. He just walked down the stairs and remembered his promise to get Damian to school. Trying to hide the anxiety he had that he didn't know what exactly his mom was doing.

--------

9:09 AM

Jason watched Y/N walk out of the convenience store all the way in Blüdhaven. From where he was, he couldn't see what she had bought, but the moment he saw her go into the store, he had messaged Tim to watch her bank account. To watch what she was purchasing. Something felt...off as he watched her.

Jason knew that after the...accident, Y/N had been hard to reach. To talk to. He knew that she and Bruce hadn't been sleeping in the same bed since that argument he had accidently heard them having around 3 weeks after everything happened. So 4 weeks ago.

Granted...from what he had heard, it wasn't even a fight that they had had. Mostly just words being thrown at the other. Words that Jason never thought that he would hear either one say to the other. Words that he never told any of his siblings that he heard. All out of fear that one of them would panic. And while sure, he had a disdain for Tim and Damian, that didn't mean he would ever let either of them know what he had heard.

Jason wasn't sure how long he had been watching her just sit in the car before Tim finally texted him a list of what Y/N had bought in the past week. And considering Jason had seen her previous bank records for a week, it was a sure red mark with how short it was.

Tim

In the past week she's gotten a lot of sleeping pills. That's basically all that she has gotten. That plus energy and pain pills. Duke is thinking she's self-medicating again

Jason sighed as he pocketed his phone when he saw his mom driving out of the parking lot. He kept a safe distance behind her as he followed her on her drive back to Gotham.

--------

12:15 PM

Y/N hurried up the steps of the Cathedral. Trying not to make a misstep and fall as well as trying not to draw attention to herself. She closed the umbrella over her head as she walked in. Placing it in the small holder, she brushed the front of her outfit as her heels clicked on the ground when she walked down the long hall.

Last time she was there was for her mothers funeral last year. Last time she had walked up and grabbed the larger candle to dip down and light the smaller one. Her heart pounded in her chest as she kneeled, words swimming through her head and mumbling off her lips.

She herself was never very religious, but having grown up that way, she wondered if praying like she did as a child would work. Praying that things would get better and that she would get better.

She shakily did the cross on her before standing and wiping the tears that had silently fallen away from her cheeks. She turned and started to make her way out of the church when she heard a voice call out her name:

"Mrs. Wayne! We were not expecting you here today, is everything alright?"

Y/N slowly turned to face one of the Nuns, a small, fake, smile on her face. "Oh yes, everything is alright Sister. Just came here to pray for a moment. I haven't in such a long time."

The nun nodded, "Very well, I hope the Good Lord hears your prayer and makes it happen."

Y/N nodded silently before turning and walking out. She grabbed her umbrella before opening the door and walking out. She practically ran back to her car, wanting to get in before anyone saw her out.

But Cass and Steph did. They watched her speed back to her car as they sat in the cafe across the way. Stephanie shook her head, "She never goes there. Especially not since her mothers deaths."

Cass nodded as Steph continued; "Something is seriously going on with Y/N. Maybe something else has happened that we don't know."

"She's been deteriorating for the past 4 weeks."

Steph raised a bow and inquired, "4 weeks?" Cass nodded, "Huh...weird, that's around a week after she came home from the hospital." She grabbed her phone and started typing in the groupchat that only held the kids (Damian not included):

Steph

when did Bruce disappear for a few days after Y/N came home?"

It didn't take long for Tim to respond

logs say he left 35 hours after she got home and came back 83 hours later why?

Cass

She's been slowly getting worse sense then

Jason

I overheard them arguing around 3 weeks after everything happened and I know they haven't been sleeping in the same room since then. And I'm not sure how important this is; but Tim checked her bank account and she bought different pills so me, him, and Duke think she's medicating again. Or that she's going to start again.

Cass and Steph looked at each other, concern and worry was on their faces as they read Jason's last message. Something started unnerving them as they thought of the things she could possibly do if she was going to start medicating again.

----

3:25 PM

Y/N looked at her body in the mirror. Her hands came to lay on her stomach. Just like she did before. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she stared at her flatter stomach. She breathed shakily as her hands fell down to her sides.

Why?

Was all she ever asked.

Why me? Why did this happen to me?

She was so confused. She had always been good. Done everything to be a good person. But yet she still had that happen to her. Was she just not meant to be a mother?

Of course...she was one. She was a mother to 4 amazing boys and 1 beautiful girl. But still...it was different. Yes, those 5 children were hers, but that one. That singular one that she had carried for nearly 7 months had meant so much to her. Especially after being told time and time again it wouldn't happen.

It wasn't even the first time it had happened. She had had miscarriages before...but that wasn't what it was this time. The kidnapping. Bruce and the kids had found her after 2 days. The emergency c-section to save the baby.

But she knew. Of course she knew. She knew it had died.

Her baby girl. She had died before she even got the chance to live.

Y/N shakily breathed as she grabbed one of the bottles from the counter. She had thought it was the pain medication. But it hadn't been.

Sleeping meds.

Ever since it happened she had hardly been able to sleep. Nightmares of what happened still plagued her mind. Bruce yelling at her still echoed in her brain. Those...twisted words he said echoed inside of her.

She had popped a few in her mouth before dry-swallowing them and getting into the bath she had started earlier. The hot water felt like it was searing her skin, but she didn't care. She wondered if maybe she did this enough, whoever was above would forgive her of her sins and let her keep a pregnancy.

She wasn't sure how long she had stayed in the water before it became difficult to keep her head above water. Her body just felt so heavy. She wondered what pain meds she had grabbed at the store. She couldn’t remember them making her feel this way before. After a few moments of struggling to keep her head up, she felt her body sink down and under the water. But even as she felt water rush into her nose and fill her lungs, she couldn't bring herself to move and get out.

She just accepted her fate.

----

3:30 PM

Bruce sat in his office, a bad feeling settling in his stomach. Something was telling him to check on Y/N. See if she was alright. He knew she had returned around 20 minutes ago, the security cameras had caught her walking in.

He carefully stood from his desk and walked out of his office. He walked down the oddly quiet halls of the manor. A small feeling of pain and guilt started to eat at him as he got closer to the guest room she had been staying in. He knew she was struggling. He knew that she needed him today. But he just...couldn't.

He was selfish. He knew this.

He knew he was so goddamn selfish. Caring about his own feelings rather than helping his wife. She had been the one to physically go through everything. She had been the one to bear that trauma.

He had been so incredibly selfish since she had come home from the hospital. He had even begun to wonder why she even stayed in the manor.

But as he opened the door to the guest room, unrest settled inside him as he saw she wasn't there but the bathroom door was open. It was silent. He had known his wife long enough to know she never was silent in the bathroom. She almost always had music playing.

He pushed the bedroom door further open as he walked further in. Anxiety started to reach a breaking point as he walked into the bathroom.

And time felt like it moved in slow-motion as he saw her state. Her knees bent out of the water, her head under. He saw the three bottles of pills on the counter. He saw the open one read sleep on them. He ran over to the tub, grabbing under her arms and pulling her out.

He bent down, trying to listen for a heartbeat. He felt like his own heart stopped as he heard nothing. Not even a faint thump of one. He quickly moved to her side and started CPR.

Everything still felt like it was moving slower than it was as he pushed down on her sternum. Tears gathered in his eyes as he repeatedly slammed down onto her. As he breathed into her mouth. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally had gotten the CPR to work. She began to cough profusely, water spluttering everywhere. He sobbed as he heard her shallow breaths break through the air.

He heard the noise of Dick's voice breaking. "Mom?"

He looked at him, seeing both him and Damian staring at the scene in front of them. Staring as their father held their mother in his arms. As tears fell from his eyes, he pleaded for them to call 911.

It was with shaky hands that Dick did it. His words sounded choked back, he kept stuttering. Trying to say what he was supposed to but his mind was running at a million miles and and half a mile a second at the same time. Everything felt fuzzy and he had no idea what he was supposed to do. All that he knew was that he walked in on his dad doing CPR on his mom.

That was all he knew.

That was all Dick knew.

402 notes · View notes

ssparksflyy · 1 month

Note

Hiii I hope you are having a great day!! I was wondering if you could make another percy jackson x daughter of Hecate reader? If you don’t/ can’t do it that’s fine I just though i would ask.

ask and thou shall receive ༉‧₊˚.

percy jackson dating hcs ! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

pairing: percy jackson x latina!daughter of hecate!reader warning(s): swearin a/n: dw i got ur 2nd request that u wanted reader to be latina :)) i just added in some little things that tie in ♡♡ srry if these are short btw </3

in the dead of night, your eyes so greennnnnnnn

you and percy tend to stay up later than most of camp

your always up and out after curfew

u js function better at night

me asf

the day is reserved for lake dates nd the night is reserved for sky watching dates ♡♡

ur literally attached by the hip if you couldnt tell

as they say in waitress, i love you means your never ever getting rid of me ♡

u usually watch from the roof of cabin 3, just cuddled up nd sharing a blanket

but once percy suggested you watch from the docks

and you were like oh!

not actually but you looked really hesitant

he was like whats wrong??

so you told him about la llorona 😊😍👯‍♀️💕😁😘🥰🤩🤗😚😋😆

it was so preppy

but now youre both scared to go to the lake at night

even tho yk shes not real

and youve literally been through tartarus

and back

and you face unimaginable horrors every dam day

and percy's literally the son of the sea god

mexican folklore is scary ok yall

idc if it didnt scare you as a kid / you like horror

I DONT

IM TRAUMATIZED

MY GRANDMA PUT ON LA LEYENDA DE LA LLORONA WHEN I WAS FIVE AND I HAVENT KNOWN A DAY OF PEACE SINCE

srry 4 trauma dumping yall

kinda silly how some story about a lady who drowned her kids is enough to make 2 of camp half blood's strongest soliders shake in their boots

so u stick to rooftops ♡

u nd hazel are bestiessss

shes a honorary member of cabin 20 ofc

you exchange tips nd tricks, hazel telling you about the things she saw hecate do and the things she said to her

nd u tell her abt the things youve picked up over the years :))

percy cant help but smile whenever he sees you two together

he sees hazel as a sister

( yall remember in son when he was ready to fight somebody for her or somethin like that idk i dont remember but i do know he was ready to f i g h t )

nd ur his fav girl ever ♡

idk his heart just feels warmed

same way he feels when he sees you playing with estelle

you show her a bit of ur powers nd she flips outtttt

she asks sally to be a witch for halloween bcs "i want to be just like (y/n)!!!"

idk abt yall but if i went home and my family found out i was involved with ~brujeria~ i would not b accepted at home (please read as if ur white nd cant say shit in spanish)

thats just the mad religious side talking dw yall

but sally nd paul would literally let you in with open arms

the jackson's apartment is your second home

percy has a drawer reserved for your clothes in his room ♡♡

he loves it when you sleepover, at home or at camp

he absolutely adores kissing your hands

he doesnt care about the dangers you can produce from them, he'll kiss em allllll he wants

you could be cuddled up together, ur reading to him and he just grabs one of your hands and begins to leave a trail of kisses up your arm, shoulder, neck, cheek, and eventually leaving one on ur temple

it just gets u like 😵‍💫

he loves his badass gf, okay?

literally ur #1 fan

would beat up anybody who talks shit !!!

tea is ur holy ground ♡

u cant drink coffee

cause yk, adhd, youll just end up knocking tf out

though you do drink it when you cant fall asleep at night

its me, hi

and hot chocolate is strickly an only-in-december drink, bcs then it wont hit in december, cause you had it earlier in the year

(my mom does that with gorditas and tamales broooo its painful)

so ya drink tea!

i dont drink tea, so im not even gonna try to tell you what his fav is

he likes wtv u like

but you try a bunch of different teas nd stuff together :)

lowkey youd adopt a black cat together when ur older

youre never gonna beat your neighbor's witch allegations

(probably bcs their true but youll obviously never say that)

i feel like percy would be more over a dog person but lets be fr, he likes horses.

fkn horse girl smh

but that does not mean he wouldnt love and care for the cat

he'd so let you stop to pet any stray cat you see on the street

v patient with you lowkey

u cook together !!

u teach percy a bunch of different recipes nd stuff :)

has a 'kiss the cook' apron 100%

and what can ya say, you gotta kiss the cook

man you guys manage to stay silly throughout the horrors, we love

a/n pt.2: i had to do this TWICE bcs the first time i didnt i accidentally closed the tab and they didnt saveee, i feel like this is mostly me rambling but wtv, i did it tired, i did it unmotivated, i did it bored, i got it done! have a good day/night ♡

peace from manhattan,

percy jackson ♡

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #hoo x reader #child of hecate #by bells ♡⋆ ࣪.

177 notes · View notes

norman-fucking-reedus · 2 months

Text

So it’s international women’s day and I was talking to one of my mutuals abt how Daryl would like worship you 🎀

I noticed that as the show went on Daryl’s respect and appreciation for women seemed to grow. I also feel like his mother could’ve been a victim of abuse, and so when he yells at any woman he starts thinking of his dad

I just think Daryl having his own person to unconditionally love and cherish would re-wire his brain in the best way possible

Idk what happened but I do not have a foot kink guys like feet actually scare me when I write I just make it all up as I go

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Daryl has never considered himself a religious man, but oh for you, he’d make a whole new religion.

Growing up Daryl was never allowed to have much of his own stuff, whatever little he did have he held onto and cherished with all his damaged heart. He loved these things dearly, and would fight like hell to get them back, but he’s never down right worshipped something, nor someone.

His parents claimed to be christians, yet they just made themselves look like hypocrites as they preached sins from the bible that they commit every hour of the day. Daryl believed that if there really was a God, he wouldn’t toss kids to people who didn’t deserve to have them, let alone help the people that needed help, like when his mom was burning to death in the house.

He didn’t believe in a God, no, not until he got to taste you for the first time.

You, Daryl loved you. From the tips of your very toes up to your hair, there wasn’t a single inch of your body that Dixon didn’t appreciate.

He takes his sweet, sweet time undressing you, carefully peeling your shirt off and running his blistering hands across the smooth skin of your stomach. Daryl dips his head down to kiss you, slow with lots of tongue.

Daryl’s hands move down your sides, hooking onto the waistband of your pants and pulling them down. He stared at you in muted awe as you stepped out them and stood in just your bra and panties, twirling hair around your finger.

You watched as he lowered himself down, not just onto his knees but down to the floor, his lips brushing over the skin of your feet. A shiver ran down your spine at the sight of Daryl bowing before you, peppering kisses along the skin of your ankles while slowly climbing his way up the skin of your calf, relishing in the ticklish sensation of your leg hair.

You were pure, sheer natural beauty, Daryl dared to say that Aphrodite herself could not compare.

He traced every scar with his lips, and touched every birthmark with the tip of his tongue, his hands stroking the skin of your legs as he worked his way up past your knee, to your thigh, squeezing and sucking on the plumpness. His fingers trailed over the bump dips of your stretch marks, traveling across your hips and stopping mere inches from your stomach.

Daryl knew that you were a little insecure about the markings, however, he had a deep admiration for the discolored lines etched into your skin, dragging his lips across them and feeling them underneath.

He made it his life goal to make you feel like the most gorgeous woman in the world because in his eyes you were the only woman in the world.

Daryl placed eager kisses over your clothed hip bones, running his tongue over your V-line before burying his nose in the growing wet spot of your panties, inhaling the addictive smell of your cunt. He stared at you with a needy, half-lidded gaze, licking his lips as you fisted the hair behind his ear, teasing the hem of your panties right in front of him.

His eyes never left your movements for a second as you slowly slid the thin fabric down, Daryl watching the way they slipped down your thighs and pooled down around your feet, eyes flickering back up to your pretty pussy. He watched as you spread your lips with your fingers, running your fingers down your folds and bringing your glistening digits to Daryl's lips, so casually offering him a slice of heaven.

You felt Daryl's groan vibrate through your fingers as he quickly wrapped his lips around them, swirling his tongue and sucking your slick. His cock pulsated in his pants, arousal burning hot in his belly as he taste you, wanting to taste you directly from the source.

As you pulled your soaked fingers from his lips, coating them in his own spit as you did, you adjusted your stance to stand with your legs further apart, lifting your leg slightly to step on Daryl's cock, a guttural moan coming from him as he thanked the stars above him for whatever he did in order to belong to you.

When you tugged Daryl's head forward by his hair, dragging your messy cunt across his chin and over his tongue, he jerked his hips up and down right whimpered when he ground into the pad of your foot. Every light sound he made, he made right into your slick folds, desperately lapping up your juices on his tongue. One hand held onto your thigh, and the other stayed wrapped around your ankle.

Daryl ran his tongue from your tight entrance, up to your sensitive clit, rubbing it with a few hard licks before darting back down your slit, this time slipping the wet muscle inside your soft walls. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, applying more pressure with your foot that had the man seeing stars underneath you. Daryl held your foot down, curling his tongue as he thrusted it in and out.

You had a tight grip on Daryl’s hair, tugging at his brown locks as he worked you open, pushing your closer and closer to the edge. He was such a monster when it came down to his mouth, knowing exactly just how and where he needed to use it.

He dragged his tongue back over to your clit, making quick work of filling you with his fingers. You groaned at the feeling of his thick digits, scissoring and stretching you further open. He stimulated a sensitive nerve near you clit as his fingers curled in your sweet spot, a high gasp coming from you as your hands tightened in Daryl’s hair.

You pulled his head back, clenching around his fingers when the cool air hit your puffy clit. Daryl panted softly underneath you, staring up at you witth hearts in his eyes as his swollen, red bottom lip got caught between his teeth. His hips rolled up into your foot, whimpering quietly.

“I love you” He choked out, hand gripping your thigh as the other continued to curl his fingers.

You brushed his cheek again, staring down with a pleased looked and smile. “I love you too, Dixon. Now come up here and stuff me”

Daryl grunted, sliding his fingers out of you and immediately bringing them up to his mouth, sucking you clean off.

He rose to his feet, wiping his fingers dry before circling around your back to unclasp your bra, throwing himself into one of your deep kisses as the garment fell down your arms to join your discarded underwear on the floor. Daryl ran his hands over the soft and squishy skin of your tits, groping them under calloused palms.

You directed him to walk backwards, taking careful steps towards the bed as his lips refused to leave yours, the lingering taste of yourself in his mouth as you explored it with your tongue.

Daryl’s knees hit the mattress and he sat down, leaning back a little to give you more space as you straddled him in all your nude glory. Your dripping cunt pressed against his bulge, and he could feel your warmth wetness behind the fabric. The groan that escaped his lips was quickly captured in another one of your dangerous kisses, Daryl’s head already starting to become full of haze.

“Your body belongs to me, right?” You slid a hand between the two of you, fingers dancing over his jeans as they unbuttoned them.

Daryl hummed, eyes fixated on you as you freed his cock. “Yes ma’am”

You smiled softly, dropping down for yet another mind fogging kiss, lining Daryl’s tip up with your entrance and sliding down slowly. He groaned into your mouth and the sensation of being wrapped up in your tight heat, cock twitching were it rested snuggly inside you.

When you started to bounce your hips, milking the length of his cock with each wet slide of your cunt around him. He wanted to snap his hips into you, fuck you hard and make you feel so, so good. But instead, he stayed right was he was, eyes rapidly flickering from watching where he was slipping in and out of you, to your pleasured face, lip caught between your teeth as your gaze met Daryl’s.

“I love you” He said once again, whispering it into the steamy space between the two of you. You curled your fingers into his scalp, tugging the brown hair as you locked onto his lips for another one of those fucking kisses. “I love you too”

And oh, how that’s all he ever needs to hear.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Daryl not being able to process the fact that someone as breathtaking as you would want to date someone like him and he’s just so sickeningly in love that obviously his only option is to just straight worship the ground she walks on, like she’s a blessing sent directly from heaven itself and Daryl Dixon will be damned to let something as enchanting as you go to waste

He is stone cold LOVER BOY 😾

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead daryl #twd #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #womens day

305 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 5 months

Text

the fifth night

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'hanukkah' (my family is non-practicing, but my great grandfather saltzman very much tried to keep us involved and the dreidel game with chocolate gelt was his way of teaching us something) rated: t wc: 736 tags: non-practicing Jewish Eddie, getting together, first kiss, flirting through the use of chocolate

🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙🪙

Steve hadn't spoken to Miriam in almost ten years, not since his parents had let her go with the excuse that he was old enough to take care of his own needs at the age of 10.

She'd left him her number to call if he needed anything, but as most children do, he lost the piece of paper it was on.

Every year, on the fifth night of Hanukkah, he thought of her and her family, how they'd always made sure he was a part of their celebrations, even if he didn't understand most of them.

"What're you making?" Eddie asked as he walked into the kitchen, hands full of notebooks and folders for Hellfire.

"Latkes. Do you think everyone will want applesauce or sour cream?" Steve said over his shoulder, focused on making sure none of them overcooked. "Maybe I should just get both out. Gareth will probably want ketchup. Dustin, too."

He was met with silence, which was fine, he was used to Eddie distracting himself from conversations before he even got the answer to his original question. It was something he kind of lo-

"You're making latkes."

Steve turned at the tone in his voice, serious, but with the hint of a smile.

Sure enough, Eddie had a small smile on his face.

"Have you had latkes?" Steve asked.

Eddie set his things down on the counter and froze, noticing the mesh bag of chocolate gold coins sitting there.

"Are these for a dreidel game?" Eddie looked up at him.

"I don't have a dreidel anymore, but I figured since it's the fifth night, I could give one to everyone," Steve shrugged.

"I didn't know you celebrated Hanukkah."

"I mean, I don't. Not for religious purposes. But my nanny when I was young taught me about it and always brought her kids over on the fifth night to play," Steve watched as Eddie opened the bag and pulled out a coin. "Have you played?"

"My mom's family celebrated. I didn't really get a chance to do much, but when I was little, she always snuck me extra chocolate coins while the older kids argued about who won or whatever," Eddie smiled sadly. "Wayne tried to teach me, but I was kind of a brat when I first started living with him so I never learned."

Steve walked over to him, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing reassuringly.

"Never too late to learn. Maybe I can find one tomorrow?"

Eddie's eyes widened.

"Wait, did you say Miriam? Miriam Saltzman?" Eddie stood up straight.

"Um, yeah I think so. Why?"

"My aunt Miriam used to be a nanny!"

Steve's eyes widened.

"My Miriam? She's your aunt?"

Eddie nodded. "Must be." He paused, then tilted his head at Steve. "You're the Steve she always said she wished she could take home with her. She loved you."

Steve felt his face heat up in a blush, and that was before Eddie's hands cupped his cheeks.

"You must've been cute if she loved you so much. She barely liked most of the kids in the family," Eddie smirked. "You're pretty cute now."

Steve's lips parted in shock at Eddie's words.

"Cannot believe you're making latkes for us tonight. And giving us gelt? I knew I loved you for a reason," Eddie continued.

For a brief moment, Steve realized that the latkes in the oil would be burnt by the time he got back to them, but it passed quickly when he saw Eddie's eyes dart down to his lips and back up to his eyes.

"Might even give you two coins if you kiss me," Steve whispered.

"Sounds like a deal to me," Eddie smirked as he leaned in to brush their lips together in one of the softest kisses Steve's ever had.

When they pulled apart, Steve ran back to the stove while Eddie watched him, distracted from setting up the table for D&D.

"So, sour cream or applesauce?" Steve asked.

"Oh, I like both," Eddie responded.

Steve turned back to him, disgusted.

"Not together, right?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"Of course together."

"No more kissing. I take that one back. You're gross," Steve sighed. "Knew it was too good to be true."

"And they say I'm the dramatic one," Eddie rolled his eyes playfully, planting a kiss on Steve's cheek before gathering his things and leaving to set up the table.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #hanukkah

190 notes · View notes

impalaimagining · 3 months

Text

Super, Super Bowl

Dean Winchester x Reader

950 words

Note: Unbeta'd, unedited. Slammed my keyboard while my kids watched Mickey Mouse. This is the result.

Dean’s man cave. The biggest television you’d ever seen, the comfiest reclining chairs you’d ever sat in, the coldest refrigerator known to man - the perfect place for a Super Bowl party. Dean was going to have the game on anyway, why not make the most of it?

Halfway through the season, headlines started popping up everywhere - about Taylor Swift. Taylor Swift. And football.

What?

Turned out she was dating Travis Kelce, some dude from the Kansas City Chiefs. Dean watched the Kansas City games religiously, as long as he was in the bunker, or, if by some magical power of the universe, the motel TV could pick it up. The groan that escaped Dean when Taylor Swift started showing up on the screen once they publicly outed their relationship was nothing short of hilarious.

It started out small, the way you taunted and teased Dean about her being ever-present. You wore a friendship bracelet with the number 87 on it - Travis’s jersey number. You bought a beanie, white and red, like the one Taylor was seen wearing at one of the colder games. You managed to snag a Kelce jersey online during a flash sale when the Chiefs were headed to the playoffs.

It came to a head when you found a shop on Etsy selling sweatshirts that said, “in my football era” in bubbly pink lettering. Everything looked good - great, even - for the Chiefs on the path to the Super Bowl. Dean watched you open the package when you got home from the post office and with the eye-roll he gave, you were honestly a little concerned that he’d strain an orbital muscle.

“Leave me alone.” You huffed, concealing a smile.

“As long as she doesn’t show up as a surprise halftime show guest, I don’t give a damn about her.” Dean grumbled, heading toward his hideaway.

You lingered in the library, slumping down into the couch while you scrolled through endless suggested, targeted posts about Taylor Swift and her boyfriend, her boyfriend’s brother and his family, her boyfriend’s mom, the suite they’d be sitting in for the game. You name it and there was a blurb about it online. Jarring you out of your screen-induced daze, Dean’s voice rattled through the concrete halls.

“What the hell is going on in here?!”

A smirk pulled on the right side of your lips as you set your phone down beside you and painted on your best innocent face. Dean’s socked feet managed to sound as heavy as his boots as they pounded back to the library.

“Do you care to explain what exactly happened in there?” He pursed his lips, brows raised.

You shrugged, still feigning innocence. “What happened in there?”

“Don’t get cute.” He folded his arms over his chest. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Is Sam pranking you again? I thought you two moved on from that.” You furrowed your brows in faux confusion. “Aren’t you a little old for practical jokes?”

“No, Sam - Sam doesn’t have anything to do with that monstrosity. What did you do to my man cave?!” You stood and took a step toward Dean, already wearing your new sweatshirt. “All of you are crazy. Every single on of her fans is insane.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Excuse you.” You scoffed. “We’re not called fans, Dean. We’re swifties.” With an extra sway in your hips, you sauntered down the hall to the room Dean was so up-in-arms about. When you got to the door, you giggled and stood proudly before your work. “I don’t get it. What’s wrong? It looks great in here.”

Dean’s exasperation sputtered from his mouth as he searched for words to express just how ruffled his feathers were. “It’s - it’s - there’s - you deflowered the sanctity of my man cave!”

You tipped your head back with a cackle. “I what?”

“You ruined it!” Dean threw his arms out toward the walls.

Ruined it.

You scoffed. You thought you did a wonderful job of sticking to the theme. Across the room, in plain view as soon as you walked through the door, a shimmery red curtain served as the backdrop to a table. The table was covered with a Chiefs tablecloth, and on the tablecloth sat a red-mirrored disco-football. Beside the football was a charcuterie board - or boards, really. One shaped like the number eight and one shaped like the number seven. Cupcakes with gold flakes and tiny footballs stood on a tiered tower. An array of red drinks lined the lefthand side of the table - Shirley Temples, except they were sparkly too, thanks to the edible glitter you swirled into them. Hanging behind the table, strung across the shiny backdrop, you made and hung three rows of garland - garland designed to look like a friendship bracelet made from pony beads and white, lettered beads that read “IN MY,” next line, “SUPER BOWL,” last line, “ERA.” On the adjacent wall, there was another table, far less aesthetically pleasing, decked out with chips, salsa, guacamole, pretzels, dips, a crockpot full of meatballs beside a basket of rolls.

It looked fantastic.

“I don’t understand.” You walked in and twirled around, arms open. “This looks like the perfect way to celebrate the Swift Bowl.”

“WHAT?!” Dean’s eyes bulged from their sockets.

Another loud laugh escaped you as you clapped your hands together. “Dean, it’s just a football game.” You shook your head and stood beside him, both of you looking at, but with far different feelings about, the red glittery glow surrounding you. “I’ll take the decorations down tomorrow. I promise.”

Dean released a long, loud sigh and closed his eyes. “Fine, but I swear if I hear even one second of her music, I-”

“Aw, c’mon Dean.” Sam clapped Dean’s shoulder as he walked by, stepping into the man cave and dipping a chip in salsa. “You gotta just,” Sam’s face twisted as he tried to conceal a wide grin, “shake it off.”

Forever Tags: @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @caswinchester2000 @chelseadanielle19 @countrygal17a @danathewitchywoman @deansgirl7695 @deanwanddamons @dena111923 @elizzysnow13 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie1876 @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @heartsaved @hillface89 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @in-deans-arms @ladylachesis @lilredniki @linki-locks11 @mottergirl99 @mrswhozeewhatsis @notyourtypicalrose @plaid-lover-bay25 @riversong-sam @sandlee44 @sea040561 @shaelyn102 @smoothdogsgirl @soulmates8 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @superromijn @tumblr-tidbits @vicmc624 @voltage-my2dlove @wayward-gypsy

Dean Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @akshi8278 @cherrycokegirlsblog @clarewinchester @dean-winchesters-bacon @deanandsamsbitch @deansgirl215 @fandom-princess-forevermore @iamabeautifulperson18 @lessons-of-red @mereka18 @princessofthefandomrealm @shamelesslydean @torn-and-frayed @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #reader insert #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic

134 notes · View notes

slutt4ellie · 2 months

Text

Sacred Hearts Entwined

(Bare with me this is the first story i’ve ever written!)

Ellie Williams X Reader

Part 2 -> ✞

Part 3 -> ✞

What do you do when you’re falling hopelessly in love with your childhood best friend?

Summery: You’ve been friends since 2nd grade first meeting in school. Growing up in a religious background you’ve always been taught the “right” way to think. So why are you falling in love with her..?

Warnings -> Mentions of the “d slur” / Parents are controlling / homophobia / Both extremely confused of their feelings / cheating / (lmk if I missed anything else!)

WC: 2.3k

(Did not proofread!!)

The girl who caught your eye since you were kids, Ellie Williams.

Age 6 (grade 2) -

You didn’t have much friends, after all it was only grade 2 and being popular was probably the least of your concerns, at least that’s what your mom constantly told you.

Growing up as a naturally shy kid, meant going outside of the box to talk to people wasn’t precisely your idea of “fun”! That’s why you often dissociated, it seemed easier that way? So, as soon as the bell rang for recess you would go to the back of the playground where no one else sat watching the different animals the would scale the trees while the birds would flow through the sky.

But today was a different day, as you did that normal routine a girl sat beside you, freckles that trailed all around her face and light green eyes that shined in the sun with auburn hair which ended up being almost bright red in the sun.

“Do you like watching the animals too?” She asked fairly quietly looking at her hands, you sorta look at her and nod, to nervous to talk..

Age- 7 (grade 3) -

You shortly did learn her name after that moment, Ellie Williams. To be fair you actually started learning almost everything about her. She’s an only child, loves spending most of her time doing art or playing outdoors, she’s way more extroverted then you ever could be, and she has a pet dog named Max.

You and Ellie almost spent all your time together if not at her house playing outside then you guys would be cooped up in your basement finding new board games while your mother cooked dinner for you guys upstairs. Coming out of your shell with her seemed easier then other people, she made it easy. After all she didn’t get easily bored of my shyness through the beginning.

Age 10 (grade 6) -

“Okay push!!” Ellie groans pushing a trash bin closer to the convenience store ladder which leads to the roof. “Ellie this is dumb” You say on the opposite side using your back to help her push it. “Just relax! Once we get up there, then we can practically see the whole town!” She smiles continuing to push it “But if we get caug-“ You can’t even finish your sentence before she talks “We won’t get caught!” She says as the trash bin finally reaches the end of the brick wall.

“K boost me!” Ellie smiles walking up beside you as you slowly crouch resting your back on the cold metal trash bin, you put your hands in a cuff which Ellie’s foot rest in as you lift her up. She’s not even standing on the trash bin for more then 10 seconds before the bottom gives out and she falls feet first in the bagged trash “Ag fuck! Help!” Ellie groans trying to lift herself out.

You burst out laughing not even grabbing her hands to help her up and out, but now she yells “Help me!!” You’re still cackling as she practically falls out “Eww now you smell weird!” You laugh getting away from her “Oh yeah you want a hug?” Ellie says chasing after you as you run away into the distance.

Age 14 (Freshman year) -

“It’s bullshit!” Ellie says annoyed “They didn’t care about signing us up for a catholic school for the last 10 years” Ellie says kicking in her new shoes she got for her uniform “Maybe just a change of heart” You shrug almost accepting it “You barley even care” Ellie says looking at you “Us pouting isn’t gonna change our parents mind, the decision is final now?”

“I don’t wanna even go, I look really dumb in a skirt.” Ellie holds it up disappointed “Ellie you look fine in a skirt” You sorta smile looking at her “I don’t, I rather just wear the pants.” Ellie groans sliding her hands down her face dramatically “Well I think you look good?” You say partially because you want her to stop whining about it but mainly because you mean it.

Age 15 (grade 10) -

“So you’re going with Alex then?” Ellie ask looking at you as you read a book “I mean yeah he asked it would be weird not to go?” You sorta shrug “K..? I- We just always made fun of people who went to the dances, I just didn’t except you to suddenly change?” Ellie says, she wants it to seem like she doesn’t care but she’s genuinely doing a horrible job covering it. “I guess I didn’t get the impression you cared so much?” An annoyed tone leaking through your voice.

“I don’t.” Ellie says almost coldly adding on a few seconds later. “I’m probably gonna dip, my parents want me home soon anyway.” Ellie says standing up. You sorta just wave also not in the mood it’s been a long day and you don’t wanna fight with Ellie over a stupid thing like going to the dance with someone.

16 (grade 11) -

The moment where the story starts to go downhill, well this is it. You got together with Alex a few weeks after the dance and you’ve been together all summer. Leaving little time for Ellie, and don’t get me wrong! It’s not like it’s purposefully happening, it’s just the fact that you’re both at 2 different points and spending all your time with the person you’ve previously been doing that with for 10 years isn’t exactly on your top priority list. Ellie’s also just been weird around you, she doesn’t like it when Alex is brought up occasionally sighing every time he’s even mentioned or going on about how she can’t see you guys going beyond high school. And at this point you finally talk “You say it like you’re fucking jealous?” You say a bit pissed off.

“Why the fuck would I be jealous?” Ellie claps back. “I don’t know Ellie! Please you tell me, every time I bring him up it’s like the idea of me dating someone repeals you, I don’t get why you’re not happy for me!”

“Who ever said I wasn’t happy for you” Ellie says now no longer walking so she can actually look at you in the face. “You just imply it constantly, like am I missing something, did he do something??” You say actually wanting to hear her opinion, why she hates him. Ellie chokes up though, wanting nothing to do with the real reason she doesn’t like Alex.

“Because I-“ She stops, and switches what she was going to say. “Because me and you barley hang out anymore, last summer all we did was go to each others houses and now you have 0 time for me!” She sorta yells. “Because Ellie I have a boyfriend? Did you not except us to grow up?” You now yell back, this whole argument is picking up fast. “I expected you to have the fucking decency to hang out with me once in awhile, you think i’m some girl who’s just obsessed with you and it’s getting old” Ellie says hurt that becoming evident when her voice cracks. “Ellie I didn’t say-“ You can’t finish your sentence because she talks. “It’s fine we can hang out later.” She says turning around and walking away.

To be fair half of you wants to chase after her, talk to her like you used to before you guys even started high school, but you don’t. This isn’t a movie after all.

(Present: Saturday)

You and Ellie haven’t talked in about 4 days since the little fight, the annoying part of it is the fight wasn’t even that serious, it’s just neither of you know where to start.

Throughout your friendship there’s only been a few fights, none of them being at all important, dumb stuff like you never gave each others clothes back or broke a toy. Never something like this, something that actually had meaning.

You don’t even understand why it bothers Ellie so much that you’re dating Alex, she’s your best friend, if anything she should support it, you would support her? As of now though you’re trying to do everything in your power to completely ignore the fact you guys even had a fight, as long as she doesn’t talk to you and you don’t talk to her it’s fine! Right…?

That’s at least how you thought about it, avoiding it seemed like the best situation at the end of the day because you never had to confront the problem, you did that a lot. When you were 7 and broke a glass cup, the way you solved it was hiding it in between the tiny opening between your counter and oven. Which actually ending up working..till your brother found it and immediately snitched.

Tonight though there was a perfect distraction, there was a party and half the school was going to be there, I mean it was a safe assumption saying Ellie wasn’t going to be. She hated parties, she said “It’s like a bunch of toddlers in a room, not really anything fun about that?” Which wasn’t completely false but she rarely let loose and actually drank.

Tonight’s plan was to get blackout drunk, forget Ellie, forget school, just forget everything as of now, and just hang out with the guy you loved..?

Because you love Alex how could you not?? He plays football, is popular, has a bunch of friends, treats you nice! You would be insane not to like him!! So why does everything with him feel so stale and forced? Shit now you’re thinking to much about this, Ellie is just getting in your head.

So when it was 11pm and your boyfriend Alex picked you up you made sure to make him the only thing on your mind, hanging around him, being touchy, anything to convince you that you love him. “Baby can you get me a drink” He ask smiling kissing your cheek “Yeah of course” You smile walking over to the kitchen grabbing a red solo cup filling it up with punch when as you look up, there she in. Ellie..

“Real gentleman you picked out.” Ellie says sarcastically drinking out of her red solo cup clearly tipsy if not drunk. “What..” You sigh looking up at her.. “I said real gentlemen. I mean because he’s grabbing your drinks and all!” She smiles looking at you right in the eyes.

“Why the fuck do you suddenly care so much Ellie.” You say annoyed looking at her. “I don’t care I just know you could do better..” She shrugs looking at her red solo cup the confidence disappearing after that sentence. “Who’s the magical person who’s better for me then Ellie?” You look up at her

Ellie sorta shrugs. She wants to say her but she rather skip on border school because her stupid crush on you, if her parents found out Ellie would be kicked out in a matter of seconds. “I don’t know, just someone better” you just slowly nod as Ellie finishes her sentence “Thanks for that great speech Ellie.” Ellie grabs you arm as you try and leave. “When did you start settling for low?” Ellie ask looking at you “Fuck you” You push her.

Ellie pushes you back “You’ve changed” You quickly shoot back “You act like you fucking like me!” you say probably to loud “You seem like a dyke Ellie.” You don’t even know why you said that!..well you sorta do. It was to cover your own ass, it was better to say that then “I think i’m in love with you Ellie”. Ellie almost immediately steps back and walks out which prompted you to follow “Ellie I didn’t fucking- fuck.” You can’t even finish your sentence before she’s gone, at this point you’re almost sure you just fully screwed up your whole friendship.

(Sunday 3:47am)

You can’t fall asleep knowing you called Ellie that, it was a heat of the moment and you didn’t even fucking mean it, it felt so much easier then admitting you think you love her? What if she didn’t feel the same when, then the whole school knows you like girls and next thing you know your parents find out and you’re getting sent to a border school to be “corrected”! Fuck, fuck, fuck. You get out of your bed throwing on a t shirt and sweatpants, what are you even doing??

You quickly sneak out your window and start running to Ellie’s house which is about a 7 minute normal walk. As you run up you notice that Ellie’s bedroom light is on, so sneakily climb up onto the roof, you used to do that a lot during summer after your mom would say no to a sleepover but once you climb up Ellie’s window you lightly knock on it.

After about a minute and a half she opens the window and sees it’s you almost immediately shutting it. Before Ellie can shut it though she puts her palm on the window. “Ellie can we talk” You ask genuinely nervous she might say no.. “No, i’m studying?” Ellie completely lies but she just needs a shitty excuse “Ellie it’s Sunday can I just come in. Please.” At this point it’s like your begging and Ellie eventually opens the window fully. You step in looking at her “I’m so sorry” you say almost immediately “Mhm” Ellie replies, she doesn’t wanna here stupid ass sorry’s

“Ellie” You say looking at her.

And as soon as Ellie looks up you lean forward and kiss her. Ellie moves her hands on your face and you do the same..

But that moment is cut almost immediately right after when Ellie’s father walks in..

A/N -> I hope this is okay for my first post!! I’ve been reading on tumblr for about a month now and I thought making something could be interesting. I might make a part 2 depending on if I feel like it considering this story ends on a cliff hanger 😭

#ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #cute #ellie williams #lgbtq #the last of us #loser!ellie #the last of us two #wlw post #wlw #wlw love #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #fluff #fantasy #author #first post

104 notes · View notes