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yoditopascal · 30 days

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Cocoa Butter

bodyguard! logan howlett x boss’ daughter reader

summary: He’s the best there is at what he does but what he does isn’t always very nice.

content warning: mutual pining, scenting, scent kink, age gap, size difference smut, p in v, slight innocence kink towards the end??, violent behavior (logan beats a guy up for you and it kinda turns you on), MINORS DNI

a/n: This was definitely inspired by that one gif of him from DOFP

Logan swore he wouldn't fall to his knees for a pretty little young thing like you. With your big doe eyes, soft curves and that cute little ass o’ yours that you always had wrapped up in those tiny little short shorts. He couldn’t, you were the boss’ daughter after all, but when you swayed your hips and batted your lashes at him like that… god was it tempting. You were just so inviting and deliciously sweet.

Like heaven wrapped in gold foil and lip gloss. Your dad’s guys used to joke to him about you, that is until he beat the shit outta one of them.

Now most of them don’t even make eye contact with you.

Good, he preferred it that way anyways.

His heart beat rapidly in his chest, the possessive streak he felt for you flaring up as he watched you converse with the guy at the bar that had been buying you drinks all night. The guy no doubt had no idea who you were, or who he was for that matter.

Five drinks in and he was practically itching for a fight, hoping that the motherfucker you were laughing with like he was the funniest bastard in the world would slip up and do something so he could take him out back and show him what happens when you mess with what’s his.

His.

You weren’t anyone’s you liked to remind him.

He knew you could handle yourself, you were more than capable of holding your own and you’ve told him plenty of times that he hovers too much, so why was he getting all antsy over this guy?

Logan swore he wasn’t a jealous person, never had a reason to be, until he met you, but watching everyone watching you for the past few hours while you smiled and laughed and danced like you didn’t give a shit about anything, had him ready to kill the next guy who breathed at you wrong.

Maybe it was the few drinks he had but he could have sworn he saw you look over at him a couple of times too.

Like you were doing this on purpose.

What he didn’t know was that he was the reason you were so confident and carefree. His presence alone was your peace. He was your scary dog privilege. It was nice to know that someone had you.

One of your dad’s men annoying you? He’ll handle it.

Some guy at the bar can’t take the hint? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, Logan’s got it.

He was your dad’s most trusted guy and he was the best there is at what he did and what he did? Well it wasn’t always very nice.

Ignoring the growing urge to go over there and drag you away, Logan throws back the rest of his drink, whiskey on the rocks, and flags the waitress in the black cocktail dress down for another.

Taking a drag from his cigar, the ones he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to have in the club but who the fuck was brave enough to tell him he couldn’t have it, he tears his eyes away from scanning the room when he hears you.

Your voice is soft as you politely reject the guy, so soft you almost couldn’t hear it over the shitty music and the buzz of people in the crowd around him, if it wasn’t for his mutation.

Apparently this greasy ass clown can’t take the hint as his hand clamps down harshly around your wrist pulling you closer to him as you try to pull away.

He’s on his feet before he can register what he’s doing.

He tries to tell himself you’re totally capable of holding your own, you can snatch your arm away and tell the guy off yourself but when he sees the shit stain lean in to kiss you and raise a hand as if to strike you when you turn away, Logan is seeing red.

In the blink of an eye he’s already across the room dragging the guy off his stool and out the back. His fist meets his mouth first, teeth cutting the skin of his knuckles but he doesn’t care. Bone crunches on bone as Logan continues to beat the guy into an unrecognizable barely conscious mess.

He doesn’t stop until he feels your delicate hand brush up against his back, and he turns to look at you.

You stand behind him as he turns until you’re damn near chest to chest, pupils blown wide as your eyes bore up into him from below his chin. Even in your highest heels you still don’t quite reach him. The guy groans in pain from the ground beneath your feet but neither of you care, far too wrapped up in each other to even notice he’s still there bleeding out.

"Can't make my job easy, can ya kid?" He smirks down at you wiping at his nose with a bloody hand.

He goes to say something else but it catches in his throat when he catches a whiff of something in the air.

God he could smell you.

“You doin ok darlin’?” He asks, voice sultry as he leaned closer to you inhaling.

This is dangerous territory, he knows it and so do you but neither of you can bring yourselves to care in the moment. It’s one you’ve both been skating around for months now.

“Y-yeah I just-“ you start biting your lip as you lose yourself in thought for a second.

“You ready to take me home big guy?” You ask, still biting that god damn lip between your teeth as you look up at him through your lashes like you always did when you wanted something from him.

“Always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you get to your apartment he’s already on you, not even giving you a chance to get through the door fully. His mouth carving a path from your neck to your mouth as he walks you backwards towards your room, pushing you down to the bed beneath you as he wraps himself around you.

He clings to you, hands grabbing your hips as he grinds himself into you, nuzzling his nose into your neck, taking in deep greedy draws of your scent. Shea and cocoa butter mixed with the tantalizing aroma of you. Always that goddamn cocoa butter. He could cover himself in your scent if he could and it still wouldn’t be enough for him.

You're a whiny squirming mess as he kisses up and down your neck, one of his hands squeezes at your tits. He’s barely touched you and could already smell how wet you were, just for him.

Pulling away Logan looks down at you, eyes half lidded as he strokes a calloused thumb over your soft swollen bottom lip.

You had dick sucking lips, one of the guys had told him his first week here. He shattered his bones with just his fists, now the guy walks with a limp.

He didn’t want the think about that now, not when your hands we’re tangling themselves in his shirt. With a latch he pulls his shirt over his head as he watches you fumble with his belt biting your lip. He leans down to take it in his mouth once more before he’s shedding himself of his pants and underwear pulling yours off with them.

He wraps a heavy arm around your back bringing you to his chest as he puts you on his lap, the hem of your pretty little dress hiked up over your ass, as he nestles his big cock deep inside you. He sinks his teeth into your neck and the flesh of the slopes of your chest as the straps slip further down your shoulder with every thrust of his hips.

“Logan...” Your voice came out as a whimper as he trails his hand down to grip your ass.

“You doing alright sweetheart?” Logan asks between thrusts. He knew it was too much for you, but it was what you asked for, and who was he to deny you anything you asked for.

Reaching behind you he unzips your dress before he’s yanking it over your head, your bra soon joining in the growing pile of both your clothes on the floor. Never missing a beat as he kept plunging into you.

He’s so fucking big, and he knows it too as smirks into your mouth. He’s moving like a younger man. Not that you really even wanted anyone your age. Guys your age didn’t know what to do with a gal like you.

“Easy princess, eyes on me.” He said as your eyes start to close as you lose focus, he knew you were close by the way your gimpy walls kept fluttering around him. Grabbing your face with one hand he forces you to look him dead in his hazel eyes as he keeps up his pace. He pulls you into a searing kiss as he releases your face with a dark chuckle before grabbing both your hands in one of his.

“Keep ‘em here for me.” He says placing your hands over his shoulders as he lays you back on the bed as he locks in, the bed’s frame creaking beneath you at the strength of his thrusts, the headboard hitting the wall behind you with equal force.

Your neighbors were definitely gonna have something to complain about in the morning.

A chill runs down your spine when you feel him exhale a strangled breath into your neck, as he reaches down to rub fierce circles into your clit. He was getting close too.

Glancing down, a smile settles on his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt gripping him in its tight wet hold before he pulls away and settles back in again. He could watch himself disappear in and out of you all night if he could. He teases you as he continues his assault, calling you all types of sweet nothings as he watches your face contorts in pleasure as you clumsily try to keep up with him.

Your moans become muffled as you press yourself against him. That tight coil in your stomach tightening ever so slightly threatening to explode. Goosebumps prickling your skin as you shook violently against him as you finally let go dragging him along with you with a harsh grunt, nails digging into him desperately, most likely drawing blood.

“I know, baby. I gotcha.” He coos rubbing at your sides as you cry out, eyes glazed over with fresh tears. He pauses his movements for a moment to give you a minute but literally only for a minute before he’s back on you kissing and sucking down your neck before he pulls away.

“Hey look at me, kid.” He huffs as he leans down to kiss you. “We’re not done yet.”

“B-but you already-!” You start but are cut off by a moan that’s bubbled up into your throat as you feel him, still hard, as he starts back up again.

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan’s ripped from his sleep by the sound of your front door opening and closing. Before he even has a chance to attempt to get up, your bedroom door opens suddenly, hitting the wall behind it with a soft thud.

“What the fuck!” Said one of your dad’s men as he stared at the two of you in shock. Another one came flying into the room behind him, gun drawn, until he catches sight of you, he looks back and forth between the two of you before he casts his eyes to the ground, going to pull the other guy out of the room with a visible limp.

“You wanna keep your mouth shut?” Logan hisses voice still laced with sleep as he pulls the sheets further up to cover your back. Thank fuck you were a hard sleeper when you were really tired.

“I-I’m sorry man it just-“ the first man starts to stammer as he asks unceremoniously “Did you really have sex with her?!” Smacking a hand over his own mouth just as shocked, but definitely not as pissed as Logan, was that he had said that, he stumbled to follow his companion out the room.

It’s here at your little table in the middle of your kitchen, that Logan finds the two goons. They both jump to their feet at the sight of him, one albeit faster than the other.

“What the fuck are you two clowns even doing here?” Logan said gently, closing the door behind him. His pants resting haphazardly on his hips.

“She never checked in last night after leaving the club like she usually does,” the other guy says, turning away as Logan went to zip up his pants. Of course, how could he forget how much of a good girl you were. “Boss was worried, gave us a key and everything.”

“Yeah sorry man! If we woulda known-“ the other chimed in, his voice was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Did you really sleep with her, Logan?” The other guy cuts him off. He’s staring Logan dead in his eyes to answer him so he could run off and tell the boss, like he actually had anything on him. He was challenging him and he’d be damned if he let him get away with it.

“I did yeah, the fuck are you gonna do about it?”

#logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine x black reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x black reader #wolverine #days of future past #x men #x men imagine #x men x reader #x men x black reader #hugh jackman #x men movies #x men days of future past #xmen dofp #dofp

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binomech · 2 months

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I mean it when I say that Kim and Harry's relationship is only possible at the point in time where they meet, as the people they are during the Hanged Man case. I love playing with AUs but the same way even a Harry with amnesia is inevitably a product of his past, so is Kim. this is a VERY long post so i'm putting it under a cut.

facts about Harry:

Harry tried to kill himself three times in one night and he failed to kill his body

The Harry you meet does not remember this, consciously, and yet sometimes the only thing he thinks will solve a situation is killing himself

Harry doesn't remember his mother, but he remembers being very loved by her

Harry is the only person left from his childhood friend group, and he forgot them

Harry learns about his life through a case ledger and a bitter coworker and a town full of people he traumatized before he tried to kill himself

The ledger says: You were brilliant and bright and you solved every mystery. You once beat a man until he could never walk again with this very clipboard because he reminded you of yourself. Out of all the policing specialties, you picked building safety regulation because it wasn't violent, and once you spotted a crumbling building and reported it but it fell before anyone in the force could give a shit and a bunch of families died. Your partner that you forgot, who you only have experienced as vitriolic and judgemental, once campaigned to keep a street mural because he knew it was a sign of hope for you and you liked it.

Your body remembers what your mind cannot: The smell of apricots and loss. Being raped. Prepping for anal with another man. Being a gym teacher, a loving mentor and then giving it up for the apricot smell. A sick liver. A sad brain. A locked jaw and chronic pain because the polio epidemic took everyone but not you. Survivor's guilt. The need to dance.

he thing about harry's memory loss is that it's that his life becomes a crime scene to investigate. and he's very good at that. he's been told it's the only thing he's good at. and his body remembers that that momentum is the thing keeping him alive. and yet everything he finds is marred with mistakes, violence and lots and lots of love that make the mistakes and violence even more damning. and he can't stop looking with morbid curiosity because it doesn't even feel like his life, but he's living the consequences of it. and sometimes he does things, he feels things, and he understands that he's not someone else and then he wants to die.

Why are you an amnesiac? Is it because the pale took you while you sank in the water next to a church where baby pale is growing? Is it what the decades of substance abuse did to your brain tissue? Is this you, protecting you from yourself, just so you can live for a few weeks more?

Why are you a detective? You remember being a happy teacher, a good teacher, you were an art student teaching gym. why did you change careers? Is the insatiable curiosity that your body remembers something that was eating you alive? Is it why you're still alive at all, to find out? Did you think you could do more with a gun in your hand and some speed in your system? Did she think that?

And then there's Kim. One of Kim's lines that is among my favorites, and weirdly honest for what we get from him usually when he's talking to people that aren't Harry is:

"My position, ma'am? My parents got ripped to shreds in the Revolution -- I would have gone the same way. I was saved by being two years old. That's my position -- the abattoir."

Harry's life is defined by a violence that he cannot remember, Kim's life is defined by a violence he cannot forget.

And that, I think, is important to their dynamic. Kim's life is defined by the degradation he has suffered, by the Moralintern as the child of revolutionaries, by his peers at every point in his life due to his racial heritage and his sexuality, by his disability. His fear isn't even fear, it's a certainty -- he's waiting for the other shoe to drop and go the same way his parents went, in front of a firing squad for daring to want something better. So he bargains, and he tries to delay what he knows is coming by not only not stepping out of line but giving the line a wide berth that could be a fucking moat filled with krakens.

He grows up Dolorian breathing the ideology of the institution that had his parents executed 24/7. He believes so deeply that he is as important as everyone else for the world to keep going, a blue forget me not, a piece of the sky. But of course he knows enough about his parents so he cosplays as a revolutionary and joins the RCM as the shitty replacement of the Commune's guerrilla.

He spends 15 years in a position usually given to recently enlisted officers because they do not believe him to be good enough. He finally promotes by going undercover as a teenager and infiltrating a fucking arcade because asians look so young and asians are so good at tech. The first partner he gets as a detective is nicknamed Eyes because he was assigned to him because his eyesight and sharpshooting could not be trusted. He doesn't see a shooter approaching and Eyes takes a bullet for him and he's the one to deliver the news to his family.

He doesn't even believe in Moralism, strictly, because he's too old and not innocent enough but the sunk cost of spending his entire life carving his tombstone as an RCM lieutenant is simply too much to give up. He rations his cigarettes to remind himself no matter how much he wants, wanting will destroy you from the inside out.

And then, he gets sent to Martinaise both because he is undeniably good at his job (he's shown them, he can shoot, he can fine, he can send people to jail facilities without breaking a sweat, he can lord over his authority to any civilian as much as any other straight white cop in the precinct) but also with the expectation that he will Fail and they'll finally have a reason to demote him. And he goes there and waits for two days for Harry to show up and when he does, he's drunk, doesn't know the basics of the world (the basics he cannot forget for one second or they will kill him, too) and is still capable of wonder.

And Kim is so fucking jealous. He's like "what the fuck, I have to do so much and this guy gets a pass?". Not because you are actually doing anything wrong, most of the questions are standard for Harry at any point in the game, but you get to forget everything and keep your job. You get to have drugs and keep your standing. You get to be violent and brilliant and no one doubts you for a second. He gets away with wearing heels and blatantly faggy old fashioned clothes. He gets to cry and show the worst parts of himself. He gets to protect you without losing anything.

Harry is everything Kim can't be, because he is a white cop.

But that's not what changes things, in the end. It's that this guy who literally is everything a good detective is and also everything awful a detective is, takes one look at you and sees you on the other side of the moat and he doesn't even build a bridge: He plunges headfirst into the moat and makes friends with the krakens and comes out soaked and dying on the other side and he smiles and asks for your opinion, Kim, you always know what to say

He doesn't know you and he's the first person that doesn't assume the worst. And you know he's putting you on a pedestal, and that you need to make sure he understands that's not good for him, but it does feel a little good to have all the things you do be acknowledged without friction.

And he makes stupid jokes and when you joke back he laughs and doesn't think less of you. And he likes art, which you will never let yourself understand, and he likes children because he doesn't have a history of 15 years trying to get kids to have a better life and them dying by the dozens, and he's everything you hate because he's everything you wish you could be.

And then he finds a miracle, and he tells the miracle about you, and you take a picture and it's not a dream. You thought, it must be the amnesia, he will remember and life will go on with the realities that you know to be true. But the picture is still there: Tangible proof that not everything you think immutable is a sure fact of reality.

Unbeknownst to you, in one of these universes he spares you from a nuclear bomb that he launches himself. If you get shot, he will hear you on the radio when he needs you the most. You are not the only one that has been changed from this.

Pre-amnesia Harry and Kim could have never found this tentative kindness because Harry was bogged down by all the things he had done and Kim was buried in things he couldn't do. But whatever happened to Harry, it opened a door in a huge web of universes, just by saying "It doesn't have to be like this". No matter where they go from the ending of the game, that is a thing you cannot un-know.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #de meta #long post #like very long post #this was a discord ramble but i wanted it on here for archival #phoropter

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cowboymcflurry · 5 days

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To Be Alone With You | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: After you had spent an entire rainy Saturday afternoon playing video games on your new Nintendo with your best friend Eddie, he wants to head back home to spend some time practicing the guitar, when the rain turns into a violent storm. He agrees to stay a little while longer when a power outage suddenly plunges the room into darkness…

word count: 1,7k words

includes: first kiss, fluff, making out, friends to lovers, no description of reader, no use of y/n, Eddie is a shy cutie, reader is oblivious, reader’s gender is not mentioned, Eddie gets a boner whoopsie

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“You are the worst person to play Gyromite with, Munson!” you laughed.

“It’s not my fault you can’t communicate!”

“I can’t communicate?” you gasped dramatically. “At least I don’t confuse the buttons - there are TWO!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, laughing out loud while nudging you with his elbow.

“Anyways, I gotta get going. I have to practice some more for our show next week. You’re coming right?” he asked.

“Of course I’m coming.” you laughed. “How could I miss that?”

“Good. If I don’t see you there holding up a sign saying ‘Eddie, I want to bear your children’ don’t even bother coming, okay?”

You broke out laughing. “Alright.”

Eddie would say these things sometimes, things that sounded flirty but you knew he didn’t mean them. It was simply his sense of humor.

“Are you guys like going out?” Robin had asked a couple of weeks ago, after school. Your face had immediately gotten hot and red.

“Uh, no, we’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.” you’d said, while simultaneously imagining what it would be like if you weren’t just ‘good friends’. What it would feel like if he picked you up in his van, and you would go see a movie or get a pizza or do whatever it was that other people your age did, going on dates and stuff. But you knew that Eddie didn’t think of you that way. And you hoped he didn’t know that you in turn did feel about him that way.

Ever since he’d borrowed a piece of paper and a pen from you in Mrs. Marshall’s class you had been under the spell of his dark intoxicating eyes. Then you had run into each other at a concert in Indianapolis, making him realize that you were one of ‘his kind’ as he’d put it. He’d quickly ‘adopted’ you, inviting you to join the Hellfire Club, where you met Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Gareth and Jeff. You never really saw him talking to any girls at school but you knew that a bunch of them had a secret crush on him, whispering about what a great head of hair he had.

Suddenly you heard the rumble of thunder and when you looked out of the window you saw lightning striking in the distance. The storm had gotten worse, the rain violently pounding against your window.

“You sure you don’t want to stay until the storm is over?” you asked, worriedly looking outside. Eddie pulled a goofy grimace.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get home safe. But it’s cute, that you’re worried about me,” he said, winking at you when a loud crash of thunder made him flinch. “Yeah, okay, maybe I’ll wait until it’s over.”

You sat down on your bed, watching the raindrops dripping down your window, when Eddie joined you, sitting at the other end of the bed. Immediately you felt your heart beating faster and when you looked at him, you saw his mouth open, as if he was about to say something, when a lightning bolt illuminated your room for a second, immediately followed by another crash of thunder.

There was a clicking sound and suddenly Eddie and you sat in pitch-black darkness.

“Shit.” you hissed, feeling the hair on your neck stand up.

You heard him rummage through his pockets, when there was another clicking sound, only this time coming from his lighter.

“You have candles or something?” he asked, the flame illuminating his face.

“Uh… Yeah, sure…” you said, watching the flickering light dance off his face for a second too long.

“What?”

“Nothing.” you quickly said, before getting up and stumbling to your desk, on which you’d placed a small candle a couple of months ago. It smelled of fresh laundry and relaxed your busy mind when you were studying for school late into the night. Picking it up you handed it to Eddie, who lit it and then placed it on the window sill right next to you.

“So romantic.” you joked, hoping it would come across the same way it did when Eddie said things like that. But he didn’t laugh. Instead, you saw him looking at the flame, his lips pulling into something that you could best describe as a sad smile.

“Yeah, right?”

“What’s wrong?” you whispered, trying to get him to look at you.

“I don’t know… It’s just…” he slowly began, rubbing his neck.

“What?”

He paused for a moment until he finally met your gaze. His lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something only to press them together again. Slowly you reached out for his hand that was loosely placed on his knee, to which he flinched.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-” you began, but then you felt him clasping your hand with both of his. You felt his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand, giving you goosebumps which you hoped he didn’t see in the candle-lit room. You’ve never touched his skin before, never deliberately. It was always an accidental brush, that made your face turn hot. But now he held your hand in both of his.

His gaze shot up to your eyes, his thumb continuously stroking the back of your hand.

“I always thought you’d figure it out at some point,” he said softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “But you never did.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“Figure out what?” you whispered.

Another crash of thunder made both of you flinch. After the rumble slowly settled, Eddie bent down over your bed, rummaging through his backpack.

“Here,” he said, placing his headphones on your ears, before he opened his Walkman, turning over the cassette that had been inside and hitting play.

Some keyboard. A guitar riff.

“Lie down,” he whispered, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Come on, lie down,” he repeated, before blowing out the candle and lying down on your bed, motioning for you to do the same. Reluctantly you did as you were told, lying down next to your best friend you were secretly in love with, while there was a storm raging outside and rain pounding against your window.

You turned your head to the side and caught Eddie watching you listening to the song he had put on, when you realized that he was still holding your hand.

To be something, to be with you Don’t say that you’ll never know

He mouthed the words along, making the back of your head tingle.

Half the time it could seem funny The other half is just too sad This west bound moon’s They rise and fall Lost you and I want you today

Slowly he brought up his other hand to your face, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, before he gulped and anxiously looked from one of your eyes to the other.

Love to love to love you

You felt your stomach doing a flip. Too many thoughts were racing through your head, but when Eddie propped himself up on his elbows, his face hovering above yours, your mind went blank.

His gaze fell from your lips back to your eyes, his expression nervous, as if he was waiting for some sign, for your permission. Without wasting another second you pulled him down to your face by his collar, planting a short and soft kiss on his lips. When you opened your eyes, you loosened your grip, seeing the surprise in his eyes. For a second you thought you misread things when his lips pulled into a smile.

Slowly he bent down, lifting your chin with both his thumb and his index finger to his mouth. Your noses brushed against each other when he carefully kissed your upper lip, before turning to the lower. Softly you parted his lips with yours, a muffled moan escaping his mouth. Carefully you slid one of your hands up his neck into his hair, while the other was still grasping his collar. You never wanted to let him go and you didn’t know if you ever could. Your kisses slowly grew more passionate, more urgent, as the tip of his tongue slowly found its way to yours, gently brushing it, while his thumb was firmly running along your jawline.

Another crash of thunder made both of you flinch, causing you to break apart from each other, both of you gasping for air.

Eddie’s dark eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, looking both intoxicated and hungry, like an animal that has been starving and finally had gotten to eat. You probably had the same look on your face.

You took off his headphones, slowly propping yourself up on your knees, being less than an inch away from his face. You felt his hand cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your lips before pulling you in another passionate kiss. Eddie’s chest pressed against yours and as you felt something hard brush against your thigh another moan escaped his mouth, making him gasp for air and immediately pull away from you.

Red-faced he cleared his throat, trying to avoid your intoxicated gaze. You took a deep breath and looked out the window, realizing that the thunderstorm had moved on. Dizzily you fell back on your back, faintly hearing the beginning of the next song of Eddie’s mixtape playing while staring up at your ceiling.

When you closed your eyes you felt Eddie lying back down beside you.

“I’m in love with you,” he whispered. Your eyes fluttered back open and when you turned to look at him you now found him to be the one looking up at the ceiling.

“I have been for some time now.” he said softly, before clearing his throat, “And I didn’t want to tell you because I was scared it might mess up our friendship.”

You were silent for a few seconds, taking in what he’d just said.

“I’m in love with you too, Eddie.”

His face abruptly turned towards you. Softly, you let your fingers trace his features, his eyebrows, his nose, and his cupid's bow before carefully tracing the curve of his jawline.

“I’m madly in love with you,” you whispered, to which his lips pulled into a wide smile, pulling you closer to him. Your noses brushed against each other, as you looked into each other’s eyes, softly planting kisses on each other’s faces, while the rain continued to pound against your window and the thunder rumbled further in the distance…

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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lowkeyrobin · 7 months

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MCYT with a reader who would literally get into a fist fight for them?? Literally, if someone even looks at them wrong reader will throw hands. It's literally that meme (Random person) "GET YO FUCKING DOG BITCH" (MCYT) "it don't bite" "YES IT FUCKIN DO-" I'm sorry I'm feeling silly 😔

OH MY FUCKING GOD I LOVE THIS PROMPT AND THE REFERENCE TO THIS MEME LMFAOOO OH MY LORD BSHWJRHEJJAJW ; very vine oriented so I apologize. you threw me into a loop referencing that

MCYT ; "anytime, anywhere, I'd beat a bitches ass for you"

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, slimecicle, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language, talk of blood/injuries, physical fighting, vine cringe because I got very carried away and you can tell

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he was one of those kids in high school that made light offensive jokes but would never fight anyone over anything, he's not a violent person at all other than in his jokes

but God forbid some random person look at you two weird in public, you're on their ass

you're more offended that they were judging Tommy at all, you couldn't care that they were judging you

"sorry, do you have a problem?" You squint your eyes at the person, "me and my boyfriend are just trying to shop and you keep following us around and staring, like, can I help you?"

just a teenage Karen

yall do take it outside when the motherfucker follows you out and begins to record you

you beat this fuckers ass to a PULP

Tommy's just holding the few bags of stuff you'd purchased staring down, jaw on the fucking floor like "Oh my God wtf do I do"

he had the vlog camera on so he kinda got it all on video before he pulled you away from the person

yall sprinted the hell away bc the security guards were running towards yall 😭😭

#neveridentified

#the person admitted guilt anyways and said they were planning to hurt you so no point in trying to track yall down for self defense

#i barely know the law shush

RANBOO

they just kind of accepted that you were like this

"I do not endorse violence unless you are y/n. I can't make them un-violent. I have tried, they're a vicious guard dog now"

hurricane Katrina? more like hurricane tortilla when you enter the building

yk the free style dance teacher vine? that'll be ranboo out in public and someone will stare at them all weird and you'll glare back

"walk away, walk away" you mumble, watching the person hurrily walk away as they see you like glaring daggers into their skull

your dynamic is the one vine that's like "Oh can I have a sip of your water?" and "It's not water or vodka, it's vinegar" "bitch what"

then you'll go make angsty edge lord posts to the one bojack horseman audio "I'm not a violent dog" and insert a clip of you beating the shit out of someone in high school

FREDDIE BADLINU

you post the "look at all those chickens" vine on your Twitter everytime you see a hate comment made for one of you

you love instigating fights w people online it's the funniest fucking thing

if you don't know how to reply to some dumbass edgelord response you'll just spam the guacamole vine until they shut up

"wait, why does y/n have so many soaps?"

"MIND YOUR FUCKIN BUISNESS DAVID"

Freddie's response to your violence is usually the saxophone seal vine. he genuinely laughs everytime he sees you fighting w someone online

sometimes you'll stream it while you wait for a response and while you're fighting online trolls who've been brainwashed by Twitter

"You're gay?!?!?!?11??11"

insert the "ms keisha dead" vine and the battle is over idk what to say

fight fire with fire I guess

NIKI NIHACHU

she hates yet loves that you'd fight ppl for her

oh, someone treated her wrong? you'll be trending on Twitter for fighting the person

#y/u/n will literally be at number 1 for a week

people edit the fight too

she appreciates it though, even though she doesn't exactly like to promote violence, she'll accept it from you

"Oh, don't worry about them, they're just a little... nervous around people sometimes"

"nervous? girl that mf is SNARLING at me"

you'll see a post that's like "me when someone tries to start shit w my s/o" and reply with the "hahaha I do that" vine

when I tell you she CACKLES reading online fights with people 😭🙏

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

"get the F off my yard!" proceeds to have to drag you away from situations where someone's actin a little funny in a /neg way

he genuinely thinks you fighting people for him is funny

he'll tell the stories on stream and to his friends like "dude they fucked this guy up, I honestly feel bad for laughing"

honestly most the time it's people victimizing themselves

like that one meme where the lady very obviously and fakely falls over that bench on LIVE TELEVISION.

he's your biggest supporter

he's the old guy from that one vine of the kid singing "Oh wait a minute mister postman" and he does the whole ass high note

"here's y/n fighting someone for idk what because they're talking to the police 😋"

you're a problem at this point

QUACKITY

you've physically fought so many wild racists for him it's crazy

he'll gladly cheer you on

"AHHHH COME GET YO DOG BRO HELP"

"Oh it don't bite"

you proceed to bite the bitch

online fights are usually responded w the purple teletubby twerking meme

"L don't be a weak ass racist pussy next time"

you fight Logan Paul for some reason??? Twitter drama mostly

don't worry quackitys there to watch

17-3 don't worry... ehehehrhahahha

when he tells you that you need to stop instigating fights you send him the "They ask you how you are but you just have to say that you're fine when you're not really fine" meme BAHDNHAHA

FOOLISH GAMERS

"YOU KNOW WHAT DUDE? IM OUTTA HERE" vine in a nutshell with you two. I can't explain this but it makes sense I swear

"whatd you do to your eyebrows?" meme except its "Whyd you fight that person!?" "I don't really know!"

Twitter fights are like "and they were roommates!" "ohmygodtheywereroomates" I swear to fucking god

you love instigating shit with Twitter trolls

when you stand up for him/reply to edgelord haters for him he replies with the "country boy I love youuuuuuu" vine

"GIVE ME YOUR FUCKIN MONEY!" vine with the law and order intro is literallt how physical fights go

let's just say some stalker edgelords tracked you guys down at the streamer awards...

HE AND PUNZ GENUINLEY CHEER YOU ON

here you go trending on Twitter again

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #slimecicle x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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e-dubbc11 · 4 months

Text

Trivia Night

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader (wife)

Warnings: Some swear words, little violent, nothing major though, sexual reference, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 4.5K-ish

Summary: Trivia night at one of your favorite bars with your favorite people. Billy is late and you have to fill his spot with someone no one else is really fond of, especially Frank and Ginger

A/N: This one has been done for a few days but life got in the way of me putting it out. Finally had some time. Part of the Gingerverse. I’ll put the collection HERE. I haven’t written for them in awhile and I’ve missed it so this was fun. I hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

With music playing in the background, you sat at the bar with your friends staring at the beer in front of you. Poured perfectly, the high white foam piled high in the glass but not too high and melding into the citrusy white ale underneath.

It was a blend of orange, lemon and lime peel with a hint of spice from Grains of Paradise which was a rare pepper from West-Africa and considered an aphrodisiac.

Your head was full of little factoids and knowledge which is why Ginger thought it would be fun to do a trivia night at one of your favorite bars and it was also another way for Frank and Ginger to continue their “friendly” competition with each other.

The bar held a trivia contest every Thursday night and you were finally able to get everyone together for a fun night out. Of course, Frank and Maria were there, along with Ginger and another friend from work, Jules. You were just waiting for Billy to show up and complete your two teams of three but he was, once again, held up at work.

“Where’s your husband, kid? If he doesn’t get here soon, you’re gonna need another teammate so I can beat Ginger fair and square.” Said Frank.

“Keep talkin’ shit, Frank. We’ll see who answers more questions.” Ginger replied with a furrowed brow.

“I don’t know where he is. He promised he would be here but they’re starting soon.” You said with a worried look on your face.

You were going to have to find an alternate teammate.

The foam from the head of your beer touched the tip of your nose as you took a sip. The bright wheat ale was refreshing as it cooled and coated your throat. The bubbles tickled the inside of your nose as you set the beer back down onto the bar and the coaster underneath your glass was slightly damp from the condensation.

Searching the bar one more time for Billy, your eyes spotted a familiar face. The last time you had seen him was at your birthday party a few years ago before Billy had told you how he really felt about you. He was also the reason Billy almost left that night because you were dancing with him.

It was Lucas.

“Hey stranger!” He said, as he went in for a hug. “How are you?!”

Nervously, you replied, “I’m good, Lucas, really good. How have you been? It’s been a little while. You still working for Billy?”

He nodded. “Yep, actually he was still there when I left a little while ago.”

Glancing at your watch, you replied, “Yeah he’s supposed to be here for trivia time so our team is one player short at the moment.”

He took a sip from his beer bottle and a sly smile stretched across his face as he said, “I can fill in for him until he gets here.”

Both Frank and Ginger were staring at you, they glanced at each other and then turned their gaze back to you, well, back to Lucas. They both had a look of mistrust on their faces, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. You loved how protective they were of you but it’s a public place with an old co-worker, what was going to happen?

As you pulled the barstool up, you said with an innocent smile, “Hey guys! Frank you know Lucas.” You said pointing in between the two of them. And turning to Ginger, you said, “Yeah, remember he was at my birthday party before I left Anvil.”

Still with her eyes narrowed, she replied, “Uh huh, yeah I think I remember. Silver Springs guy, right?”

Lucas nodded.

Ginger pulled him over to the barstools and said, “Alright stud, get comfortable, you’re gonna fill in until Billy gets here. You better be smart too, I’m not losin’ to Frank.”

Frank smirked at her. “We’ll see, Ginger.”

You turned to Lucas and said, “They’re a TAD competitive with each other. It’s comical to watch.”

“Oh I can’t wait.” He replied.

**********

Billy was always in awe of how smart you are. He even went as far as saying you should try out for Jeopardy. A lot of nights after the two of you had dinner, you would turn it on while you were cleaning up in the kitchen.

“The answer is…This element has the highest atomic number that occurs naturally.” Said the host.

You said, “What is Uranium?”

“This Russian author wrote War and Peace.”

Again, you replied with the correct question, “Who is Tolstoy?”

“Located in Jordan, this ancient city is known for its rock-cut architecture.”

“What is Petra?” You said.

“What is Citizen Kane?”

“Who was Winston Churchill?”

“What is a Life of Service?”

“Who is Victor Hugo?”

With his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, Billy stood at the sink washing the pots and pans with a smirk on his face and a towel draped over his shoulder. He’d hand them off for you to dry as you rattled off question after question.

“You’re amazing, my love.” He had told you. “You really should try out, I’m serious.”

“I’m not that smart, Billy. There are so many more people out there smarter than me.” You said.

After drying his hands off on the towel, he pulled you in by your waist, your body was flush with his, and his hands were still warm from the hot water from the faucet. Billy tilted your chin up with his long slender fingers so you were looking into his onyx colored eyes, smiling that perfect smile at you. That smile could get you to do pretty much anything. It was your kryptonite…in a good way.

“Why do you doubt yourself so much, sweet girl?” Asked Billy in a silvery tone.

Glancing down at his arms wrapped tightly around you, you replied with a shrug, “I dunno. I guess I’ve always had that feeling that I’m not good enough. Plus, I’m highly competitive so if I don’t win, I feel like a loser.” You said with a slight smile.

“You and me both, baby.” Said Billy. “Our kids are gonna be in trouble.” He said with a wink.

You laughed as he gently pressed his lips to yours. They tasted like the bittersweet piece of chocolate he had after dinner.

“Will you do something for me, beautiful? Just think about it? I wouldn’t blow smoke up your ass and tell you you’re good enough when you’re not. You know that.” Said Billy.

You snaked your arms around his neck and gently raked your nails against his scalp. His raven colored hair glided through your fingers as you kissed him again. Slipping his tongue between your lips, his kisses became hungrier as you angled your head so he could kiss up and down your neck.

“Not fair, handsome. That’s called coercion when you kiss me like that.” You said as warmth spread across your cheeks and chest.

“Does that mean you’ll think about it?” He asked, brushing his knuckles against your cheek.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him as he stood in front of you smiling like a Cheshire cat. Billy knew exactly what he was doing.

“Ok, you win Billy. I’ll think about it.” You said, biting back a smile.

He replied, “That’s all I ask, my love.”

**********

You were sitting in between Lucas and Ginger. Frank, Maria and Jules looked very ready to answer some questions and before you knew it, the contest had started. Billy had promised he would be here but he was late and the game had started without him. Unsure of the rules, you didn’t even know if he could jump in when he got there.

Billy worked harder than anyone you’ve ever met. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to be the best, fighting to stay on top, and be the best security detail in the city. Sometimes he broke his promises which most of the time you let go but this one hit a little differently.

It was upsetting. You just wanted to have some fun with him and he was missing it but you were determined to have a good time anyway.

You were on fire tonight though. There wasn’t a question you didn’t answer correctly even when it wasn’t your turn.

“How many moons does Neptune have?” Your host asked.

You answered confidently, “Fourteen.”

“What is the fear of flowers called?” They asked.

“Anthophobia.” You replied.

“How many staircases are located in Hogwarts?” Their voice sounded frustrated because they couldn’t stump you.

You answered with a sly smile, “142.”

With his arm touching yours, Lucas leaned in and whispered, “How do you know all of this stuff, y/n?”

“Oh, just stuff I picked up here and there.” You replied.

You thought Lucas was harmless, but Ginger and Frank felt otherwise. In between their score keeping with each other, you swear they were silently communicating about how close Lucas was to you and keeping an extra close eye on him to make sure he didn’t try anything.

“He’s a little too close to you, don’t you think?” Said Ginger, in your ear.

Looking down at her leg and yours, they were practically touching so you replied, “Well the barstools are really close together. What am I supposed to do? Sit in your lap?”

“I’d say he still has a thing for you.” Ginger whispered, almost glaring at Lucas.

You whispered back, “Ok, well I NEVER had a thing for him. Also I’m very much in love with my husband.”

“I know that…just…well just watch his hands. I don’t trust him and neither does Frank.” She said.

You glanced over at Frank. He looked as if he could spit nails. “Yes, I can see that.” You replied. “I’ll be on high alert. Ready to do some Kung-Fu Panda if I need to.”

Ginger started to laugh and sing a verse from Kung Fu Fighting while Frank rolled his eyes and Maria chuckled.

While this was going on, you became hyper aware of how much Lucas was drinking and gradually inching closer to you. He looked like he was feeling pretty good and it was starting to make you a little uncomfortable but you tried to ignore him.

After a little while, it was break time. Time to stretch your legs, run to the bathroom, have a snack…whatever you felt like doing for a few minutes before the second round started. Frank and Ginger were arguing who had answered more questions correctly between the two of them.

There was the team score and then their personal scores that they kept track of. It was hard not to laugh when they would go back and forth and get under each other’s skin. Both of them, however, kept a close eye on you but mostly they were watching Lucas.

Maria caught the two of them eyeing you like a hawk.

“What are you two glaring at over here? Or maybe I should ask, WHO are you two glaring at over here?” She asked.

Without taking his eyes away from you, Frank replied, “We’re watching to see if Lucas makes any moves on y/n. I know he still has a thing for her, I feel it.”

Maria folded her arms across her body and playfully rolled her eyes.

“Baby, I’m sure y/n can take care of herself. Being with Billy all this time, I’m sure she’s learned a thing or two about defending herself if Lucas is stupid enough to try anything.” She said.

Ginger jumped in, “Yeah but it’s not just us, right? She looks a little uncomfortable talking to him.”

In an unsure tone, Maria replied, “I mean, I guess maybe a little bit.”

You finally saw the familiar face you had been waiting for all night to arrive. Scanning the bar, Billy’s dark brown eyes locked with yours and a wide smile stretched across his lips as he rushed toward you. Without realizing what you were doing, you walked away from Lucas and started walking toward Billy.

Excusing himself, he worked his way through the sea of people until you were close enough for him to touch. You crashed against his chest and melted into his embrace. Billy brushed your hair over your shoulder, snaked his arms around you, and held you while he apologized over and over again.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, sweet girl. I’m sorry.” Whispered Billy against the top of your head.

For a brief moment, you had forgotten how angry you were with him that he was late, yet again, and smiled against his chest while listening to the rapid beating of his heart.

“You’re VERY late, Billy. I had to find someone to fill in for you.” You said.

Billy glanced around the bar before he asked, “Who did you get on short notice, my love?”

Just as you were about to answer, Lucas said, “Me…she got me to fill in for you. Finally done at the office, huh Mr. Russo?”

Billy narrowed his eyes and gave Lucas a devilish smile before he answered, “Yeah…I am. Well I’m here now so you can take off.”

A cunning smile stretched across Lucas’s face as he replied, “Actually, I just asked the person in charge and there aren’t any substitutions after the game has started so it looks like you’ll just have to sit and watch, Mr. Russo. Your wife is…” He paused to stare at you. “She’s amazing. You know how smart she is?”

Billy replied with gnashed teeth, “I do, Lucas. Yes, MY wife is incredibly smart.”

“Oh, well I guess you do know then. They’re about to start, y/n. I’ll see you back at our seats.” He said.

Billy glared at Lucas as he walked back to his seat then turned back to talk to you. His body was stiff and the muscles in his shoulders tensed while his knuckles showed white as he clenched his fist.

“I don’t like the way he’s looking at you.” He hissed.

You rolled your eyes a little.

“Baby, you never like the way any man looks at me.” You said, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah, well I know Frankie and Ginger feel the same way.” Said Billy.

“They texted you, huh?” You asked.

Billy nodded, his lips pressed into a straight line. You could tell he was furious.

“Well maybe you should have done a better job of trying to get here on time, Billy.” You said, turning on your heels and walking back to your seat.

He called out after you, “Sweet girl, I said I was sorry!”

“You’ve been sorry a lot lately, Billy. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” You said.

You knew how Billy could be, how jealous he gets, and how possessive he is of you but he had been disappointing you more often lately because of work. He had been canceling dates, coming home late, and missing dinner. Maybe this was a tough lesson he needed to learn.

Ginger stopped you before you could get back to your seat.

“Awesome, Billy’s here! We can ditch the dummy, he doesn’t know anything anyway.” She said.

You started to shake your head back and forth and replied, “We can’t, Ginger…guy in charge said we can’t swap out. So we’re stuck with him for two more rounds.”

Frank walked up behind you.

“I’m ahead by one, Ginger. They’re gettin’ ready to start round two.” He said.

“They won’t let Billy play because he showed up late.” She said.

“What?! So you’re stuck with him for two more rounds? That’ll teach Bill to be late, yeah?” Said Frank.

Lucas was sitting in his seat, drinking his beer with a smug look on his face. You knew he was trying to make Billy jealous and it didn’t take much to get Billy’s blood to boil. The scorching glare he directed at Lucas could probably be felt by the entire bar as he sipped his bourbon.

But they were starting the second round and you directed your concentration to answering the questions and not toward Billy. In between questions, Lucas would lean in and whisper things to you like “You’re doing great.” And “That one was really hard, how did you even know that?” It was really making your stomach turn but you didn’t want to be rude. You made it through round two and only had to make it through one more round.

“I got five questions right that round, Frank. You forgot to mark that last one down.” Said Ginger.

“No I didn’t, Ginger. It’s that one right there.” Frank said, pointing down at his scrap paper.

“Well, my paper says I have one more.” She said.

“Then you’re cheating.” He said.

Ginger’s jaw dropped open. “I am NOT cheating and I am deeply insulted that you would even think that. I can beat you fair and square.”

Maria interjected, “Baby, I think you did forget one.”

“Hey, whose side are you on, anyway?” Frank said, looking at her fondly with a smirk on his face.

Meanwhile, a few feet down from where Frank and Ginger were “discussing” their totals, you were trying to reassure Billy that Lucas wasn’t going to try anything and there was only one more round left before it was over.

“There’s only one more round left and then we can go home, ok?” You said.

Lightly brushing his beard with your thumb, you smiled warmly at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before returning to your seat.

Billy nodded and tried to smile at you but you could tell he was still angry and jealous.

Round three questions were a little more difficult…

“How many noses does a slug have?” They asked.

Deep in thought but distracted at the same time, you blurted out the first number that came to mind.

“Four?” You replied in an unsure tone.

“Four is correct!” They said, excitedly.

“What are baby rabbits called?”

“Kits.”

“Who painted ‘Girl with the Pearl Earring?’”

“Vermeer”

“What 1949 science fiction book by author George Orwell describes a dystopian world in the future?”

“Twenty-Twenty-Fo—oh wait, sorry…I mean, 1984.” You said with a wide grin.

Billy chuckled a little at that one but his smile disappeared when he saw Lucas inch closer to whisper something in your ear.

“And she’s funny too.” He said, placing a hand on your knee and squeezing.

Your body immediately tensed and your face tightened as well. You could actually feel the color leaving your face and Billy could tell something was wrong.

You looked over at him, silently telling him that you didn’t like what was happening. Lucas slowly moved his hand up your thigh while looking over at Billy. Your body temperature started to rise and your heart started to race.

Earlier, you thought maybe Lucas was just being extra friendly because it had been awhile since you had seen him last but now you realized that he must still be upset because you left the night of your birthday party with Billy and not him.

“Take your hand off of me, Lucas.” You said through gnashed teeth.

His touch made your skin crawl.

“Don’t make a scene, pretty girl. We have to finish the game.” He whispered.

Billy got up from his barstool and started to walk over toward you but not before you planted your left leg and kicked Lucas’s barstool out from under him with your right. He was leaning forward when his stool disappeared from under him so his face smashed against the bar and he landed on the floor clutching his nose, yelling out in pain.

Looking down, you noticed blood dripping from in between his fingers while he weaved a string of profanities as he tried to get the bleeding to stop.

When he looked up at you, his face was flushed with rage as you smiled kindly, clutched your imaginary pearls and in a patronizing voice, asked, “Oh my goodness, Lucas! Are you alright? Did you lose your balance?” Then in a low voice only he could hear, you whispered, “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me ever again. We’re never going to happen so get over it. I’m married to your boss, dipshit. Although, after this I’m guessing he won’t be your boss for much longer.” You said with a devilish smile.

Ginger was trying to cover her mouth so no one would see her laughing but she was doing a terrible job. “Holy shit, where did you learn to do that?!” She asked in a surprised tone.

“My husband taught me.” You said loud enough for Billy to hear.

Billy winked at you, sending delightful shivers up and down your spine. He handed Lucas a bar napkin and growled in his face, “You’re FIRED and don’t you EVER come near my wife again. She knows how to do a lot more than just kick barstools, asshole.”

You heard Maria’s voice behind you, “See Frank, I told you she could take care of herself.”

“Time to go, Lucas. Let’s go.” Said Frank, pulling him to his feet and walking him toward the door and holding him by his shirt.

“I knew he would try somethin’ sooner or later! I hate to say I told ya so buuuuut…” Said Ginger with a wide smile.

Billy took your hand in his and gently brushed your cheek with the other. A look of concern washed over his face as he continued to look you over to make sure you were alright.

“You ok, sweet girl?” He asked.

“I’m fine, baby. I’m fine. You see what I did? Huh?” You asked with raised eyebrows and wide eyes.

He let out a little laugh and pulled you flush to him. Billy inhaled sharply and exhaled forcefully; feeling the tension leave his body, you wrapped your arms tightly around his back and you could feel the smirk play across his lips against the top of your head.

“I did and I gotta say it made me a little hard.” He purred as a tremor of pleasure went straight to your core. “All jokes aside, I’m gonna try to make more time for us and for our friends. I know I’ve been really busy lately. I’m so sorry, baby.”

With your body molded against his, your eyes closed in relief as his long slender fingers danced up and down your back. Nothing felt better than being in Billy’s embrace.

“That would really mean a lot to me, my love. I know how hard you work but you deserve to relax and have fun too.” You said, smiling against his chest.

As his gazed raked over you, Billy’s eyes were like pools of dark chocolate, rich and sweet. They were warm, inviting and begging for your forgiveness. He really was sorry. You felt it in the way he held you, the way he looked at you, and as his lips gently pressed against yours, you felt it in the way he kissed you.

“I’ll learn one of these days, sweet girl.” Said Billy as he kissed your forehead.

You replied with a subtle smile, “We have all the time in the world, handsome.”

Ginger interrupted the kiss between you and Billy.

“Well since you took out our teammate, how are we gonna finish the game now?” She asked. “Our TEAM obviously won because you have a ridiculous amount of information stored in that big brain of yours BUT, I need to finish round three against Frank.”

Ginger looked around at the group, wondering if any of you had an idea of how to finish up trivia night.

“Well, I know my beautiful wife has stacks of trivia cards all over the place at home so we could all go there for a couple more drinks, more trivia, and I can properly introduce myself to Jules…” Said Billy, extending his hand for her to shake. “Hi…I’m Billy. I’m y/n’s dumbass husband and she ended up in a bar fight because I was late.”

Jules laughed and started to blush, extended her hand to shake Billy’s, and said, “You’re right, y/n. He really does have a smile that will melt your insides. I don’t know how you can stay mad at him with a smile like that.”

“He definitely has an unfair advantage, that’s for sure.” You replied. “And I did not get into a bar fight, Billy.”

“Hey, he left the bar with a broken nose because of you, did he not?” Said Billy with a wink.

You bit back a smile as you narrowed your eyes at him and shook your head. It really was hard to stay mad at him…you loved him so much.

“Alright then…to the house of Russo! Let’s finish this, Castle!” Exclaimed Ginger.

“Lead the way, Ginger.” Said Frank, ushering her to go ahead of him.

Billy leaned in close and whispered, “Can we do a lightning round and get everyone to go home quicker? I’m still turned on from watching you bash Lucas’s face against the bar.”

A blur of a smile played across your lips as you replied, “OK number one…gravity did that to Lucas’s face, not me, and two…I’ll see what I can do about the lightning round. I love you, Billy.”

He quickly cupped your cheeks and his lips collided with yours. Sweeping your lower lip, Billy’s tongue parted your lips to twist and knot with yours. The taste of vanilla from the bourbon lingered on his tongue as warmth spread across your chest and his hands ran up and down the curves and hollows of your body.

All was forgiven.

Walking together arm in arm, you and Billy headed for home with your friends, talking about your day, and talking about what he missed from trivia night. You weren’t looking at him but you could feel his eyes on you and smell the remnants of his spicy cologne on his jacket. It was all so familiar and comfortable as his body was a warm cradle for yours while you laughed with each other all the way home.

Billy tried his best to learn from his mistakes and he hated to disappoint you because he knows what that feels like. To wait for someone, hoping they’ll show up and they never do. He never wanted to do that to you.

That fear of abandonment was still strong even after all this time, after all of the “I love you’s,” after the forever promises to each other, it was still there. Billy may never get over it but you would always be there for him in whatever way he needed you to be.

The perfection he strived for in your relationship was unattainable, nobody is perfect but it didn’t stop him from trying, learning what not to do, and it was ok to have these teachable moments like tonight. He took it all in and he would be better next time, you had no doubt about that.

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @aoi-targaryen

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @ittybxttykxttytxtty @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo x female reader #the gingerverse

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astroyongie · 6 months

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Heaven and Back

Parings: Sunghoon x Reader

Warnings: slight smut, mentions of drug and alcohol intake, poor mental health, sub intendo of auto harmful behaviors.

Read with: https://open.spotify.com/intl-pt/track/1JdQibdvxgcrB8Rv1KFndw?si=0a3f35afa0414d89

It was ringing. The loud sound of the music bombing against your earbuds and people punching each other to get inside the club made you a little too alert. It had been your idea really. To come clubbing, in a pathetic attempt to numb the feeling inside your chest due to your breakup. You had exaggerated your makeup, done your hair nicely, asked your nail tech to give your hands a second life and your short dress glued to your curve like a glove.

You were self conscious. But at this particular moment, you would have traded your soul with the devil if it meant to feel anything but the hurt that was consuming your being. Your friend had warned you, this club was different, it wasn't the type of club one would come to just have fun.

You knew it. Yet, you wanted to know what it felt like to go hell and back.

“Are you sure you wanna do this, y/n?”

Your friend yelled at your ear which only made you laugh. You had drowned your 3 shots in less than half an hour, still not tipsy enough to join the crowd dancing. Laying before you on the countertop, was your half drunken drink, vodka with coke if you remembered well. What you hadn’t expected was the bartender to slip in front of you what seemed to be a yellow pill with a smiley face on it. A pill of ecstasy.

Honestly, if anyone said to you that you would one day be in one of Itaewon's most renowned nightclubs, drinking to your heart’s content and getting high, you would have laughed at their face.

But shit happens. And right now, your heart was too broken, too foul to even rationalize the danger of your actions. No, you weren’t sure. Probably mixing alcohol and this type of stimulant was a terrible idea, but you were past the curiosity. You just wanted the pain to stop. As long as you could numb these feelings on your chest and forget about that prick that broke your heart, you would be fine.

“C’mon, don’t think I would puss out of this!” you said with a loud voice, almost like you were trying to reassure yourself. The music was resonating loudly, the atmosphere of the club humid and thick in smoke. The scent of alcohol and cigarettes was heavy, it made your eyes cry but it also emptied your mind of any feeling.

Without a second thought you popped the pill inside your mouth, using the vodka to wash it away. Your face scrunched at the bitter taste before you yelled in excitement. Taking your friend by her arms you dragged her to the dance floor ready to allow your mind to turn into nothing putty.

“Hey, are you sure you are alright?” Your friend asked, their worried features making you want to get violent. You hated when people took pity on you.

“I am fine, geez stop asking and just let me have fun!”

“Fine, just don’t get yourself in trouble!”

You ignored them, proceeding with your sloppy and most certainly, embarrassing dance moves. The music was loud, the beat hitting your eardrums as you danced to the sound, laughing. Sticky bodies danced around you, and you tried to blend in with their mouvements, allowing yourself to release the pressure on your shoulders. You could feel the effects of ecstasy hitting your body. You felt lighter, not worried about the thoughts of others. It felt euphoric. You closed your eyes, allowing the music to take possession of your body as you moved without a care of the world.

Feeling a soft hand on your smaller back, you open your eyes. Behind you, a young man stood there, his light brown hair falling gently over his eyes. He looked amused by you, a soft smile on his lips as he leaned into your ear.

“Sorry, but you have been sticking on me.”

“I was?” You asked, turning around to face him before leaning to answer, talking over the music. He smelled like vanilla. “Sorry about that”

“It’s fine,” The stranger boy said, locking eyes with you for a moment, before adding “You okay?”

“Shit, yeah sorry!” you said, almost stumbling on your own feet. His hands gripped your waist tighter, not allowing you to fall. “What’s your name?” You asked, obvious of his actions, your own brain functioning way slower than usual.

The boy smiled wide. “Sunghoon”

“Well, Sunghoon, you are gorgeous!”

“And you are drunk”

You shrugged, not caring. In another context you would have been ashamed of yourself and ask forgiveness for your shameless behavior, but with the drug in your system you couldn't care less. You felt way too satisfied.

“Sunghoon, wanna dance with me?”

You asked, grabbing the boy by the collar of his white shirt. He didn't struggle, instead he offered you a nod, his hands lazily going to your hips, without putting much pressure in case you changed your mind.

You smirked, the foreign feeling of having someone else touching you, making you elated. Dancing with Sunghoon proved to be way easier than what you thought. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you swung your body left and right at the rhythm of the music. He followed your movements easily, a little smile plastered on his face.

His eyes watched you attentively and you grinned. This was so much easier when the drug and alcohol were in your system and you didn't care about the dumbass of your ex anymore. Your heart felt light and for a moment, you wanted nothing more but to enjoy this. You felt Sunghoon’s lips travel close to your neck, without totally touching you. The ghosting feeling makes you tighten your grip around him.

“Stop teasing me”

You groaned, pulling yourself closer to him, directing his face to your own lips. The kiss was subtle, yet needy. Sunghoon wasted no time in licking your bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside your mouth. The sinful sound you made was muffled by the loud music in the background, your bodies still moving together.

You kissed him back, until you were forced to break apart from the lack of air. You licked your lips flashing him a smile before you turned your body around. This time, Sunghoon’s hands gripped your waist firmly as your body grinned against his, your hips moving sensually against his bulge. You couldn’t hear him but you felt his body rigid against yours. This felt way more nice than what you were expecting.

“What’s your name?” Sunghoon asked, his hot breath against your ear making you shiver. You turned your head slightly to answer him

“Y/n”

He hummed in response, capturing your lips in the process. The kiss was slower, more passionate and wet. He moved his tongue slowly against yours, his hands shamelessly traveling from your exposed thigh, up to your waist. You could feel everything, from his breath and his taste and it was driving you crazy. You needed more. You needed him more, that was a certainty.

“Wanna go somewhere quieter?” Sunghoon asked against your lips, planting a few light ones along between his words.

You agreed with a nod of your head. Parting away from you, Sunghoon held your hand before pulling you away from the dancefloor. At this point, you didn't even remember your friend and honestly, you didn't care at all. The people started to be less and less, and the moment you got more air to breathe, you felt your legs weak. A crashing wave of sickness making your body shiver in cold sweat.

“Hey, you okay?” Sunghoon asked as you both reached the bottom of the staircases, that led you to the lounge. It was not a private space, but it provided comfort for those who needed a breath from the euphoria happening downstairs. You nodded your head. “Yea, I just want you” You murmured, trying to reach on your tiptoes to kiss him. When your lips were on his earlier, you didn’t feel this awful. Sunghoon leaned down, kissing you once again. The kiss was this time softer, almost caring and you felt your whole body shake in need. Or perhaps it was the effects of alcohol and drugs finally catching you up for your mistakes.

When he broke apart again, Sunghoon helped you up the stairs until you both reached the lounge. His hands were still on your body, leading you to one of the empty red couches. When you finally sat down, you felt your head turning, the dizzy feeling making you nauseous. You felt Sunghoon sit next to you, but you could barely see him. The strong scent of vanilla was the only thing stopping you from dripping into unconsciousness.

“You okay?” Sunghoon asked once again, his hand on your exposed thigh burning your skin. His voice was worried, but when looking at his face, you couldn't even process his facial expression. You nodded, your hands searching for his warmth as you tried to pull him into yet, another kiss. His lips moved gracefully against your, and you were aware of how pathetic you might look, the boiling feeling reaching your stomach.

A bad trip? you thought. The drug was making you feel sick, and even the sweet taste of sunghoon wasn’t erasing that unsettling feeling of guilt inside your mind. Your 3 years relationship had just finished and you were coping miserably. Instead of facing your emotions, you were in a club drugged, drunk and kissing this nice stranger.

You wanted to throw up. No, you didn't have the energy for that, you were just feeling yourself slip away. Were you going to die in the arms of a stranger?

Sunghoon pulled away, his gaze watching you. You faintly noticed his seriousness. His hand caressed your cheek and you felt your skin wet. Were you crying?

“You lied, you are not fine. You are terrified.”

The graveness of his voice made you break. Without controlling your body anymore, you sobbed in shame, hiding your face in your hands. Sunghoon gently held you, pulling you close to his body.

“I don’t want to die. But I feel like I am dying, why everything hurt so much”

“It 's okay.. I am here.”

Sunghoon held you, the warmness of his body calming the waves of shivers running down your spine. This was beyond sad. Grinding on a stranger and crying on his arms like you have known him all your life.

“I wanted to feel heaven. But why am I feeling like hell?.”

“Y/n?, hey y/n”

The sound of Sunghoon’s voice became muffled, as if he was meters away from you. The lights were getting dim and you felt your ears rigging. And then, nothing. The darkness you had tried to run away from, crawling back to you and swallowing you whole.

You were finally doing it. Going to Heaven and back.

#Sunghoon #Sunghoon x reader #Sunghoon headcanons #Sunghoon imagines #Sunghoon scenarios #Sunghoon reactions #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #enhypen headcanons #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen reactions

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 4 months

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Hi, hope your doing well. Can you do a scenario with teen!reader who has a bf, the ror family trusts reader knowing they’re smart enough to have chosen a good partner but they’re still iffy about him. Slowly but surely they think better of him, asking of the family members to teach him how to cook a specific recipe reader likes, etc. Until reader and their bf get into a fight with other people in the street and the bf protects reader. I assume that solidifies the trust since they know he wouldn’t bail on reader just to save his own skin.

-It was a hard road for you and B/N, your loving boyfriend that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, as he made you truly happy.

-Your family didn’t see this immediately, just seeing B/N as the ‘evil monster’ who was going to steal you away from them, so there was some animosity towards him, at least at the beginning of your relationship.

-There were some who were willing to give him a chance, wanting to see if he was really worth his salt, wanting to see if he was really the man you claimed him to be.

-Slowly, over the past few years the two of you had been dating, going on dates, going to every dance together, with him treating you with so much love and respect, more and more of your massive family was starting to approve of him.

-It was amusing when you arrived home late from your part time job, due to an accident, and found B/N in the kitchen baking with Buddha and Eve, wearing your apron and holding a hot tray of cookies from the oven.

-Leonidas, Thor, and Lu Bu were impressed with B/N’s athletic abilities, proving that he was strong, from playing baseball since he was four, and wasn’t a weak-willed man by any means.

-There were a few holdouts, the select few who still believed that B/N was evil, like Loki, Adam, Hades, and Odin, mostly your ‘father-like’ figures. No matter what B/N did, or didn’t do in some cases, he couldn’t seem to win them over, mainly because they adored you so much and just didn’t want you to get hurt.

-However, it was exactly a situation like that which finally won them over. You had texted your family an SOS, calling for help, as there was a gang who was causing trouble and you and B/N were pinned down.

-When they arrived, all of them saw the punks who were attacking people in the streets, their blood ran cold when they saw B/N holding you, using his body as a shield, as two of the punks were kicking down on him, not letting you get hurt.

-The punks were quickly, and violently, taken care of, by your very intimidating family, as police and ambulances arrived to help the injured.

-Seeing what B/N had done, as he was being loaded into the ambulance, with you sobbing in Eve’s arms, getting himself beat while protecting you, they had to finally admit that he was a good person, one that they saw as worthy of being with you, as he kept you safe.

-They did, however, give him shit, while visiting him in the hospital, teasing him for making you cry, but B/N could only laugh at their teasing, and even more so when you threatened to kick them out for being mean, which only caused more laughter to go around.

-They were proud of you as well, for choosing such a worthy and honorable man. They knew he would keep you happy, and you would keep him happy.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader

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wreckedandpolemic · 1 year

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she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part i - the night's like a whirlwind, somebody's girlfriend

yes u read that right its a series babey!! we love u cheatersss!!

warnings: not technically 18+ but the series will be, cheating, drinking, smoking

You clutch your plastic cup of wine like a lifeline, your pulse thundering in your throat to the beat of the song playing over the speakers. Snatches of indistinct conversation float around you, too intangible to grasp. You can’t hear your footsteps on the kitchen tile — are you even really there? It doesn’t seem like it. You bump into people and they don’t even notice, like you’re a ghost. The relief is palpable on your face when you step out of the crowded, close heat of the house into the cool night air. You slide the glass door shut, muffling the violent bass shaking the building. The cold metal of the chair you sit on bites your thighs, revealed by your too-short dress riding up.

A soft clicking sound accompanied by a brief flash and a frustrated scoff catches your attention and you turn to see a silhouette. His face is shrouded in shadow, the spark of the lighter illuminating him just long enough to catch pretty, almost feminine cheekbones and long, messy curls.

Matty turns to you. “Hey,” he says, lifting his chin at you. “You don’t have a light, do you? This thing’s a piece of shit.” He waves his empty lighter at you and pulls out the chair opposite, taking a seat across from you. Resting his elbows on the table, he props his chin up on his hands coquettishly and looks you up and down.

“Yeah, giz a sec,” you reply. You hate that it’s so awkward between you — you haven’t spoken in months, not since you left for uni, and neither of you reached out when you got back last week. You’ve missed him, and you miss him more acutely now he’s within your grasp and yet still so far. If you reached out, you think he would dissipate, shimmering, like a mirage. The sound of his fingers drumming impatiently on the table makes you remember his request and you wrench your gaze away from his hands, rings sparkling in the low light. You don’t miss the way his eyes latch onto your tits, spilling out of your low-cut dress, as you dig in your bra for your lighter. It’s warm in your hand as you pass it to him, something flickering between you when your skin brushes his.

You’ve always been each other’s forbidden fruit, polarising magnets circling each other for years but never colliding. The time was never right; there was always something in the way — his girlfriend, your studying, the band, work. Then, when you were packing up for uni, you told him it had to be over for good, no more dancing around each other, prodding at boundaries to see if they’ll give. It was easier to tell him over the phone, and you got to hide from the fallout in London for a few months. You even have a boyfriend, a sweet, loving, devoted boyfriend, and you’ve not (okay, barely) thought about Matty since. Until now, and the realisation hits you like a bucket of cold water that it isn’t over, because it never will be.

“Thanks,” he says, low voice muffled by the cigarette and cutting through your thoughts and reminding you with a bump that he’s there, in front of you, close enough to reach out and touch. You have to restrain yourself from brushing a stray curl out of his eyes.

You shrug. “Anytime.” Matty lifts the lighter up, illuminating the soft planes of his face for a second. You watch, fascinated, as he hollows his cheeks, filling his lungs with smoke, the tip of his cigarette glowing orange. Smoke pours from his mouth when he exhales, and a familiar itch buzzes under your skin.

“Giz a cig,” you say, leaning forward and swiping his pack from his front pocket before he can protest. “I’m dying for one.” You pluck a cigarette from the pack and twirl it between your fingers, reaching for your lighter.

Matty snatches it away with a grin. “Cheeky,” he teases. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Still a thieving little bitch. Thought London might straighten you out, but no luck.”

You grin, easily slipping back into that oh-so-familiar playful, flirty banter. “In your dreams, Healy,”

“Oh, every night since you left, princess.” His words strike a bolt of sinful lust through your body. You want to crack that pretty head of his open, see exactly what he dreams about, live it through his eyes, feel it through his body.

“Is that so?” you grin, leaning forward, the part of your brain warning you against him growing quieter and quieter with every passing second. Matty nods, inching closer as if entranced by you, that magnetic pull overtaking him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, delicious and red and tempting. While he’s distracted, you make a grab for your lighter, but he’s still faster.

“Not so fast,” he grins, lifting it just out of your reach. “Come here,” he says, returning his cigarette to his mouth and beckoning you. You have to stand just a little for your cigarette to touch his. “Deep breath,” he instructs, as if you don’t know how to light a cigarette. From anyone else, you’d find it horribly patronising. You pull obligingly, though, the embers catching your cigarette alight and flooding your mouth with smoke. It’s intimate, a kiss without touch.

A deep inhale sends the nicotine buzzing through your blood, your head going fuzzy for a second before everything clicks into even sharper focus. “Thanks,” you murmur faintly, dragging on the cigarette again before you trust yourself to speak.

He leans back, eyeing you, scrutinising your guarded expression. “How come you came out here all alone? Bored of your fit friends?”

You squint at him. “They’re your friends too.” Then you shrug, pondering his question. You wonder if, subconsciously, you were looking for him. “Just wanted a fag, didn’t I? Plus it’s loud as fuck in there,”

Matty gives the barest hint of a nod. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it as if thinking better. But, of course, he never thinks better for long. “Not brought your boyfriend, then?” he asks, disparaging tone making no secret of what he thinks of him. They’ve not even met, all he knows is what he’s seen on the Internet and what your friends have told him. But then, he’d find a way to condescend anyone you were dating, even if he were a consecrated saint.

You roll your eyes. He’s such a boy. You can tell he wants you, it’s written all over his face, but he won’t say it. He wants you to be the one to make the leap, he wants you to feed his ego by throwing your morals aside for him, dirty up your hands until the stain of infidelity clings under your nails. “Nah,” you say, leaning back and watching him wait for elaboration you won’t give. “But I can call him.” You pause. A vein jumps in his forehead. “If you want,”

“Go on, then,” he says, smoke billowing around him. He’s calling your bluff, and six months ago he would have been right. But he doesn’t know you inside and out anymore. You’re sharper now, a thing with corners and shadows to hide in, and you don’t make empty threats.

You pick your phone up from where it rests on the table, unlocking it and navigating to your contacts. Your finger hovers over your boyfriend’s name, and you quirk an eyebrow at him, giving him one last chance. Matty doesn’t move, so you pick up the phone and lift it to your ear. It rings once, twice, then his hand shoots out to snatch it from your grasp. He hangs up, stabbing the button violently, then surges forward.

He crashes into your waiting mouth, sending fireworks rocketing through your body. The kiss is intense, years of pent-up want and longing flowing between you. Kissing your boyfriend has never felt like this.

Wait.

Your heart stops and you pull away, flickering your eyes over his wet mouth and heaving chest before forcing yourself to look down at the table. It’ll be easier to force the words out without looking at him. “I…” You swallow thickly. “We can’t. My… I’ve got a—”

He presses two fingers to your lips to shut you up. “Love, I don’t give a fuck about your boyfriend.” Your eyes track him as he walks around the table, coming up behind you and turning you around. He’s so close to you. Danger, your mind screams, vision pulsing red, but your body calls out to him and you press closer. “And I don’t think you do, either.”

Against your better instincts, you kiss him again, burying your hand in his soft curls the way you’ve wanted to for years. Matty grips your waist, nails digging like you’re something precious he’s caught and can’t release. His tongue sweeps your mouth, tasting of cigarettes and orange gin and some underlying taste that’s uniquely Matty, and it’s addictive. You kiss harder, rocking your body against him, open-mouthed whines escaping you. “You’re right,” you admit, his hands on your body making it feel like something sacred, a prayer instead of confession. “I don’t give a fuck about him. Not if I can have you,”

Something that sounds suspiciously like a moan escapes him, and he presses his lips to yours one last time before pulling away with a smug grin. “If you’re throwing him away for a kiss, imagine how much better I fuck.” You still, your body betraying you. He gasps, that infallible smirk stealing back onto his face. “Oh, poor baby. Is that it? Your pretty boyfriend can’t make you come?”

You shudder. How did he know? Encounters flash in your mind, every time he’s rolled off you with a grunt, leaving you with nothing, every time you’ve faked it just to get it over with, and Matty watches your face as if your memories are flickering in your eyes. “...No,” you admit, cheeks heating. He brushes a thumb over your cheek, sparks tracing in his wake.

“I could,” he murmurs, breath warm in the cold night air. “I could make you fall apart with my hands, in my mouth, on my cock. I’d fucking worship that gorgeous body of yours, princess.” You’re panting into his mouth, the mental images so vivid you can practically feel him inside you. “Do you want me to?”

Every nerve in your body screams out for him. The air between you is thick with lust, a plea balanced delicately on the tip of your tongue. “I—” The door clatters open and you bite back a frustrated scream, shoving Matty off you.

“There you are!” gasps the host, a high school friend named Rebecca. Then she catches sight of your compromising position and smirks knowingly. “Well, don’t you look cosy?” You freeze, a dozen explanations springing to your lips, all of them faulty and insufficient. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.” She mimes zipping her lips shut, then darts out of the kitchen and seizes your arm. “Now, come on! We’re doing shots!”

You let her drag you away, as much as you’d rather stay with Matty, because it is her party, after all. Several rounds of shots later, your mind is fuzzy from drink and you’re stumbling around with the singular goal of finding Matty again and finishing what you started. After a few minutes of hunting high and low, someone tells you he’s gone home. You pout; it’s not like him to leave a party so early. Then, someone presses another glass of wine into your hand and drags you off to dance and you forget all about him until you make it home.

You lay in bed, face clean and painkillers dissolving in your belly, and your thoughts turn back to Matty. His warm breath on your face, hands tight around your body, dirty words staining your memories. Closing your eyes and clenching your thighs, you ignore the pang of guilt and let your mind wander to the promises he made, replaying those vivid pictures over and over.

God, you are utterly and completely fucked.

#matty healy x reader #matty healy #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #she's got a boyfriend anyway #mmcht this isnt that good But i wrote it all today #part 2 is Significantly longer And sluttier i promise #writing

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imaslutforwritingshit · 1 year

Text

SCREAM FOR ME- A smut slow burn of Ghostface the killer.

PART ONE

This is my Wattpad story about Laura Watson being stalked by Ghostface. Go to my pfp to see characters+ more info about the story :>

Chapter One:

August 29th.

The beginning.

I yelped, and swung my hand up, arching my back with ecstasy.

Excitement rose in the pit of my stomach. I closed my eyes and rocked back, the moment filling me with satisfaction. "Yes, that's it! God, I'm so close-"

The buzzer on the video game trilled, and the two dreaded words flashed on my screen:

GAME OVER.

A shrill laugh came from the corner of my room, and I groaned, tossing my ps4 controller on the a plaid blanket.

Camille, my best friend, cackled, holding her stomach with her manicured nails. "You really thought-" she heaved for breath. "You thought you could beat my high score?"

I fished for a pillow on my bed, and hurled it in her face. The pillow bounced on the carpet in front of her, and she tossed it back, this time managing to hit my chest.

"See? Your aim is shit!" She rolled on the floor, tucking her knees in with laughter.

I stared at her blankly until her cackles died down.

Good. That shit was not funny. And I totally could have had beaten her high score.

The day felt crisp, clear. My life felt like a bite of an apple at a harvest, a bitterness staying on my tongue.

After exiting out of the infuriatingly difficult game, I stretched my legs. The auburn landscape outside warmed my heart. Fall was here.

I blinked out the twinge of stress from my mind, reminding myself why I had asked Camille to sleepover- so I could have some fun, instead of stressing over every test or exam known to man.

Leaves of violent red and cool orange danced on the old trees of my neighborhood.

The small slit of my open window blew in a warm breeze, which smelled of crisp cider and cold wind.

Though I know it's bad, I can't help but keep my window open as much as possible. Yeah, people can kidnap, or kill you with a rookie mistake, but I didn't expect anyone to have stalking eyes on me.

I shut my thick curtains, and clicked on a string of fairy lights surrounding my room.

With a goofy expression, Camille raised her eyes, twinkling with the light, and opened her mouth. "Wow. This is some Tumblr shit. We should make a hot chocolate or something. That would make us the ultimate "it" girls."

I snorted, and slid into the large comforter near my desk. Turning on a smaller light, I repositioned my calculus study guide, and clicked a pen open.

"You have fun with that, T. I'm procrastinating on studying for this test."

She giggled at the nickname. When I was in first grade, I began teasing Camille by calling her "Cami." She never liked the name, and I asked her to give me a reason why. If she did, I would stop calling her Cami.

Camille ended up reaching me during recess the next day, explaining that her dad called t-shirts "cami's," short for camisoles, and from that day on, I pestered her with the nickname "T-shirt." But saying T-shirt was a little too long, and we eventually came to the consensus that "T," was best.

Needless to say, she wasn't that fond of that one either. But with time comes acceptance, right?

Camille swung her body on my doorframe, clacking her long acrylics on the side. "I don't understand why you have the nerve to study on a Saturday."

I shrugged. "Always be prepared, I suppose."

She swung her body again, furrowing her brows. "Suppose? Nerd alert!" She pointed her index at me, the autumn colors of her nails shining in my peripheral.

I stifled a laugh. "Y'know, saying "nerd alert" is scientifically proven to be equally as cringy as saying suppose."

She tilted her head down, squeezing her lips together. When I processed the fact I just said "scientifically proven," I sighed. "Fine, you win."

She pranced out of my room quickly, her laughed echoing in my hallway.

I smiled at the sight. Me and Camille were practically living in opposite worlds. I spent my time volunteering for college hours, studying my ass off, and majority of Camille's time was spent on wardrobe changes and rolling joints.

Despite our evident opposition, the changes in our personalities never stopped us from being friends.

And no matter what, I'm forever grateful I have a friend who told me how to smoke marijuana the right way- not a friend that could get better grades than me.

My eyes swirled over the swarm of calculus prep in my study book. I sighed, and slammed it closed again. Maybe Camille is right- I need a break.

I opened my laptop, and clicked on the familiar online chat site I spend most of my free time on.

Mi2.com blew up in 2013, and similar to apps like Instagram or YouTube, the platform still flourishes today. I have a theory that Mi2 is so popular because it never turned into an overpriced, ad-infected app, meaning every country or laptop device can access it.

A green star popped up on the side of my screen. I have multiple friends on Mi2, and each of my mutual's texts show up in green asterisks.

I could already tell who it was, and I grinned at the message.

✸ camillluvsdilfs278: get tfo this lame ass website lol

I rolled my eyes at the message. Camille was quite literally downstairs.

✸ angelaura999: y r u texting me ur literally downstairs + is the hot chocolate done

✸ camillluvsdilfs278: fatass the waters boiling

I snorted, twirling my feet under the desk as I responded.

✸ angelaura999: i thought u hated this website why dont you just text me lmao

✸ camilluvsdilfs278: cuz i knew ur degenerate ass would be on the computer already.

✸ angelaura999: hope the water burns u

✸ camilluvsdilfs278: :) <3

I chuckled, and as my finger hovered over the power off button, a red star dinged on the side of my computer.

Weird. I hardly ever got messages from people on the website that weren't my friends.

I clicked on the unknown user's text, and my throat dried. Fear sank into the bottom of my stomach.

‽ user182909493: I can't wait to taste you

I knit my eyebrows, disgust churning in the bottom of my stomach. I don't have my personal information, or even a profile picture on Mi2.

This was probably some jack-off trolling my page. I clicked on the user.

Joined 7 hours ago.

Maybe they got banned on previous accounts.

My mouse hovered on the red "BLOCK ACCOUNT," button, but before I could click go,

one more red asterisk popped up on the tab of my computer.

Curiosity pushed me to click on it.

A soft gasp slipped from my lips.

‽ user182909493: I can't wait to taste your blood

My fingers shook over the curser, but as my door creaked open, I slammed the laptop down with trembling hands.

Camille carefully walked into the room, holding a tray of hot chocolate and sugar cookies.

I grinned a little too wide. "Wow. What a culinary masterpiece."

She dropped her chin, an expression that reminded me that in her hand, she had the life of my cookies on the line.

I rubbed the emptiness of my stomach, and sighed in the scent of the warm sugar.

"Thank youuu." I dragged, grabbing a warm red cup, and placing it on my desk. My body was still pumping with fear, but I attempted to put it aside.

They can't hurt me. It's an online chat.

Camille nodded dismissively, and plopped on my bed, tapping her fingers on her stomach.

It didn't take a genius to find out that there was something on her mind.

I scooted my chair closer to the frame of my bed. "What is it, T?"

She looked up at my ceiling fan, and said nothing for longer than normal. I set my drink down.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm always gonna be alone. I know it sounds cliche, but we're seniors now. I've never got the high school sweetheart experience, you know?"

I nodded, staring out the window as sunset faded into a warm blue of the night. "I know what you mean." I bit my lip, forcing the words to come out, words that I hadn't even admitted to myself. "I sort of feel like I'm just watching time go by, faster and faster. It's hard to think their are good men out there anymore." The text message flashed in my mind as proof.

She nods, and stares at me with a sadness that hardly ever washes over her happy face. "At least I have you."

I jump up from my chair, and hurl my body to the blanket. "You'll have someone else soon, I promise. Some girl or guy will pick you up, and you'll find love better than the movies!" I made a big gesture with my hands to prove my point. "Also, I'm a pretty awesome friend to have."

She smiled mischievously, and looked down, picking at her nails. "Well, you are a little bit of a nerd. It's kinda off-putting."

A laugh escaped my mouth, and I hit her playfully. "You should be off pudding."

She sighed, and plopped back down. "Love Jennifer Lawrence."

I nodded, pursing my lips. "Love her."

I take a couple strands of her hair and idly braid the dark brown waves- a habit I picked up from the many nap-times we avoided during elementary.

"We'll find someone. Someone that won't suck."

She smiled warmly, and relaxed head on the bed again. "Yeah. At least somebody that won't murder girls or something."

I chuckled. "The bare minimum."

She snickered, and pulled my shirt towards her, forcing me to fall on the bed as well.

We watched the ceiling fan rotate over and over again, a peaceful silence hanging in the room.

I looked at her- her slightly upturned nose, dark skin, red hair. The way her brown eyes light up at the world as if everything were a gift.

She was forever a part of my heart- a sister from another life.

I grabbed her hand, and squeezed it tightly. She didn't look at me, but she smiled, bright teeth in an even brighter smile.

"I love you, T."

"I love you too, nerd."

I looked back up at the fan, the white noise of the blades filling the room.

And then the fear resurfaced, paralyzing my heart into glass.

"I can't wait to taste your blood."

Chapter Two

I tugged on the straps of my backpack, fastening them for the seventh time this morning.

Today was the fated day of school fall exams.

I chose to look perfect for the occasion. My hair was combed to curled ringlets, and my makeup coated my skin in a light, pretty way.

I chose a cream colored crop top, tight around my medium bust, and a black skirt, which had shorts and pockets in the interior.

I sort of looked like a whore.

A classy whore.

And that worked for me.

The morning sunlight was rising through the cracks of my blinds, and I opened the window wide to feel the fresh air. Large leaves were dropping like rain from the sky, and except for the warm sun behind the white clouds, the sky was a gloomy shade of darkening grey.

After opening my laptop for the fifth time this morning, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that Mi2 had updated their company logo- to fit a Halloween style.

I clicked through numerous online group chats I've accumulated throughout the years, laughing at a stupid meme my friend had sent me.

A sudden tingle of fear jolted me, when one of the group-chats had added a "user93827267," but I quickly realized it wasn't the same person from last night.

The moment Camille had left my house, I had opened the laptop, and blocked the unknown user.

I had no idea why people wrote such vulgar things for the search of fear. It's disgusting. And what's worse, there are people out there that would actually be sexually attracted to the idea of blood. I shuddered, stretching my fingers and moving my curser to the X on the top of the screen.

And then, like a nightmare of yesterday, deja vu washed over me, as a red asterisk popped up in my inbox.

Ice-cold anxiety sunk into my nerves.

There's no way it's that creep again, right? I had blocked their account, and gone to the extent of reporting them too.

You can do this. Stop acting pathetic.

It's just a random person.

I clicked on the red star.

‽ user373737373737: are you trying to run from me?

My heart stung, and I gasped sour air, pushing the chair from my laptop.

The user made another account.

To torment me.

I clicked on the anonymous profile again, my teeth clenched together.

"Joined 36 minutes ago."

Will this creep keep making accounts, each one with more vile threats? Would I never be able to stop this?

Unless... I put an end to it myself.

My auburn nails clacked on the keyboard- a slow, cautious message.

✸ angelaura999: please don't contact this profile anymore.

The moment I clicked send, the unknown user began typing. I sucked in a breath. And too fast, the familiar ding showed on my screen.

‽ user373737373737: you scared of me?

I hesitated, the ball of nerves in my stomach unraveling at the words.

✸ angelaura999: i don't know you, and you don't know me. that's it.

I folded my arms to stop the shaking of my body, and concentrated on the three moving dots near the user's name.

‽ user373737373737: and what makes you think I don't know you, Laura?

Amusement hit me for a second, urging me to play along with his horrible, sexual game. But using the faint rationality inside my brain, I decided against it.

✸ angelaura999: because you're probably an old freak on the other side of the world trying to get a rise out of me. And it won't happen. So stop contacting me, please and thank you.

The words "typing," slowly tapped on the screen in painful build up. I drummed my fingers on my arm, waiting impatiently for the reply.

‽ user373737373737: Laura Watson. The good girl of Elk River, right? You probably get off to the thought of being better than everyone else...Having a grade point average higher than your druggie friend. And trust me, I know you, little dove. And you know me. I think about that tight body of yours all the time. And the tiny skirts you wear drive me crazy, the way they ride up those pretty thighs. You're probably wearing one right now, aren't you?

‽ user373737373737: slut.

A sound that was a mixture of a whimper and scream came from my scratchy throat. My fingers were trembling so much, it took me more than a couple seconds to move the cursor to the BLOCK button.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

They know my school.

They know me.

Someone is stalking me.

And I have no fucking idea why, or who, or even where, they are.

And my heart is beating now, a rapid pump of blood threatening to make me dizzy.

But it isn't beating from fear anymore.

A deep, dark exhilaration is sinking into my core.

I have a stalker.

I’ll post more soon, and feedback or requests are welcome <3

#ghostface x oc #ghostface x y/n #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #slasher smut #slash fanfiction #cw noncon #tw noncon #slasher fucker #smut #dark smut #horror #horror smut #slasher fanfiction #fanfic #x y/n #y/n

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fitzrove · 8 months

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Every time i look at 1992 uwe tod i come away thinking that tod just..... should be weird. We can't be having normie tods running around... I want him to be this completely inhuman figure who tries to get close to humanity (because how do you personify death??) but deeply misunderstands some things, especially things like human behaviour and emotions. Máté is good at this too, he just did it in a different way, but after those two the effect is never really potent enough again. I mean, there is something to say for prods with humanized or gentle etc tods, at least theyre doing something else than mrak seiber, but it's not quite it for me at least. He needs to be weird because Elisabeth is weird and, dissatisfied with her life, craves a poem in the flesh.

And for me personally (this is not me saying gender non conformity is weird or inhuman btw, it's not, it's just hot and looks good) i want back the mayerling dress and all that, and the actors should be styled accordingly, if he's not going to put on eyeshadow and blush and get dolled up to kill rudolf then don't fucking cast him?? There are enough musical actors out there who like straying from the mold, the overlap between drag performers and musical artists is not insignificant. Hell, if despite your best attempts macho guys are still the only guys you can find, then cast a woman (trans or cis - for a trans woman the role might be easier/not require rewrites, because of vocal range), cast a nonbinary performer. You don't really have to change stuff in the script, someone who's not a man can still be a "prince" if the styling is androgynous. It really is that simple...

also this should maybe be a separate post but 1992 is so iconic for portraying mayerling as a romance, rudolf running to embrace tod, twirly dancing, Big Damn Kiss (rudolf barely notices the actual act of shooting himself, he's so busy making out) - up until the very end, when rudolf is dumped unceremoniously on the floor. symbolism. It's such a better deeper way to tackle the subject. Suicidal ideation doesn't just beat you over the head violently, mental illness/depression lures you in with promises of a "solution" but actually only offers a miserable nothing.

This is also why it's so important for Elisabeth to get dumped on the floor as well - there's more care in that than in how Rudolf is treated, Tod is obviously distraught, but that's the point and the tragedy of the show!!!! Freedom is fleeting, dreams are fleeting, emotion is fleeting, but yearning for them is what makes us human!!

If he carries her away the moral of the story becomes "if you die you get a hot supernatural partner that's obsessed with you!!!" No!!!!!!! The romance narrative is a big lie, suicidal ideation is a big lie, history is a big lie, it's all connected, but we always cover shit up with kitsch because some people prefer a simple romantic reading to the degree that they warp the rest of the story around it. I stg people have just replaced sissi movie trilogy fairytale prince FJ (1950s) with elisabethdasmusical fairytale prince modern peugeot king mark seibert leather tod (2020s) or insert whatever other boyfriend death you prefer

#tw suicide #mayerling is discussed #musicals #theatre #1992 has deeply dysfunctional people/entities obsessed with each other #also everyone looks like a porcelain doll #also to reiterate i hate fun and love misery :) yall need to put more romanticism (19th cent) and fantasy into your romantic fantasies #i have little faith there will be a truly good elisabeth production again in my lifetime jajskdkg #it's just all a matter of waiting for the next thing that may be less horrible than the previous one and trying to like it #xD #i did that with brussels 22 - it was very innovative and stimulating but in all honesty it needed more todolf maiming and weirdness

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loversj0y · 1 year

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hey its me glonk

talking about siren/clinic!wilbur.

Imagine Sire having a love/hate relationship with a low-ranking hero.

(Now I say "low-ranking", but it doesn't mean they're weak. They're just... really bad at their job. They can fight, but they're a little too brutal for the public eye. Breaking bones, etc..

So the hero committee says they are too violent to move up the ranks. Ironic, considering that they are the only hero that doesn't kill villains. The other heroes do much worse all the time-- they just keep it under wraps.)

Anyway, maybe the hero has some nullification power. Siren's voice doesn't work on them, so they end up duking it out in a good old fashioned fistfight.

Unless its the hero's lunch break. they only work when they have to.

eventually, when one gets a call about the other and an order to go deal with them, neither knows whether its going to be a snog-in-the-alleyway kind of day or a beat-each-other-to-a-pulp kind of day until they lock eyes.

fuck Enemies to lovers, this is enemies AND lovers.

lonemies. lovemies. enevers. Enemivers? Who knows.

(also. imagine the hero getting fired one day because they incapacitated someone in a rather brutal manner-- on live television. Does the Hero Committee care that it allows its other heroes to do far worse, just out of the public eye? No! Boom, they are fired)

you bet that siren goes asking them ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶p̶h̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶n̶u̶m̶b̶e̶r̶ to join the syndicate.

glonk. you get me. oh my god.

okay i kind of went crazy down below but i love this concept SO much

enemies AND lovers is SOOO powerful. i feel like siren would have a complex about anyone who cant be affected by his power naturally bc on one hand, it pisses him off, but on the other hand, he LOVES it because it allows him to feel secure in knowing they will never think he’s manipulated them and he’ll never have the option to (id imagine growing up, he found it hard to make connections because people who knew his power and didn’t understand it would find it hard to trust him)

i love the idea too of their very first meeting. hero reader is brand new, spiffy, ready to tackle any challenges! and who do they get? literally one of the three top ranking heros. and yeah they’re terrified but they agreed to this so they get ready to fight and siren just is not having it and simply tries to command them and reader is like *oh fuck…wait.* and they both have this mutual realization that he cant use his power and immediately in siren’s eyes. they are rivals. siren manages to get away without any fight due to the shock and processing they both have, but the hero committee quickly hears about it and is PISSED because, from the media’s view, hero reader didnt even try. which is why next time the hero just gets aggressive and physical and the hero committee ALSO gets pissed again and reader is just like ????? already so done with this shit but they’re on a contract fuck.

but oh thats when siren catches them. they’re not really paying attention to patrolling, still pissed off and reeling from the meeting with the hero committee, so it isnt hard for siren to come up behind them and get them pinned down. and he’s all cocky and talking shit, and reader is too tired to actually fight him or be angry, so siren is like. something is wrong here, i want a reaction. so he switches to flirting. and oh boy does that do the trick. and reader is so tired theyre just like. fuck the hero committee. fuck everything. im going to have fun. and they end up making out in the dark alleyway until siren gets called away by the syndicate.

and the song and dance continues, either fighting or making out (though siren does note that the fighting tends to happen more when the media is involved) hero learns more abt the syndicate and is like honestly i cant even hate them bc the hero committee IS bullshit and the committee is up their ass about needing to be better, constantly needing to be better and fight more and help more people, and they let out some stress with thanatos, but it’s more of a “beat each other up until we’re exhausted and can relax” type of fight until hero accidentally knocks him completely cold because his head hit a brick wall. and they look up and the camera definitely caught that. a text about being fired comes quickly, but honestly they dont even care, they’re more just worried that this person is okay, and so they grab his ear piece and tell nemesis what happened and nemesis is like “okay, im going to trust you only because you just got fired. here’s the cafe’s address, ill tell our healer and have someone meet you there” and so hero brings him to the cafe for tommy to heal, and siren is there because of course he’d be there, but it’s for two main reasons: making sure the hero keeps this place a secret, and extending the offer to potentially become a villain (which he notes that they’d need to have a chat about it over dinner specifically, and it definitely is not an excuse to go on a date)

#mar talks #glonk :3 #sirenbur #clinic wilbur soot #glonk you’re so real for this #im literally like. driving halfway across the us rn so this was such a good use of my time while my friend drives #im almost to NC god bless #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot

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sicknessbysalem · 20 days

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Day Three: Campus/Con Crud (or something to that effect) | Sicktember 2024

i wasn't sure what this was at first, not gonna lie, but the general thing i found was a sort of group illness... and since i'm not so good with multiple sickies, I decided to sort of use it as getting sick while something was spreading as is.

For all the people who want some more younger Novak, this fic takes place on his first team, right out of college.

if you have any requests, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw emeto, fever, being sick in a new place, novak’s team doesnt really give a shit about him (so… undesirable peers?)

cw for the mentions of novak's child toward the end

Training camp had been grueling from the start, the New Mexico sun beating down relentlessly on the field as Novak and his teammates pushed through drill after drill. The Pronghorns were known for their tough, no-nonsense approach, and it was clear that this team was a far cry from the supportive environment Novak had experienced in college. Here, it was every man for himself, or at the very least every Novak for himself. Everyone else seemed like they knew each other and got along well. Novak was an outsider. He's been an outsider for the past two years.

It didn’t help that a stomach virus had been making its rounds through the team, taking down player after player. The locker room was a war zone of exhaustion and discomfort, but the coaches barely acknowledged it, pushing the remaining healthy players even harder to compensate for those who were sidelined. Novak had managed to avoid the bug so far, but he wasn’t naïve; he knew it was only a matter of time before it caught up to him.

And sure enough, that morning, as Novak laced up his cleats in the locker room, he felt the first twinge of nausea. It was subtle, just a slight unease in his stomach, but it was enough to make him pause. He shook it off, chalking it up to nerves or perhaps something he’d eaten, and headed out onto the field with the rest of the team.

The practice started off like any other, with the coaches barking orders and the players hustling through drills. Novak threw himself into the exercises, determined to ignore the growing discomfort in his gut. He was used to playing through pain—injuries, exhaustion, it was all part of the game—but this was different. The nausea grew steadily worse as the morning wore on, a gnawing sensation that seemed to radiate from his stomach up into his chest.

By the time they moved on to scrimmages, Novak was struggling to keep up. His head felt heavy, his movements sluggish, and every time he took a hit, the impact sent a jolt of pain through his abdomen. Sweat poured down his face, more from the nausea than the heat, and he could feel the shakiness in his legs that came with being on the verge of losing control.

“Come on, Daskalov, keep up!” one of the coaches shouted as Novak missed a block, stumbling to regain his footing. There was no sympathy in the man’s voice, just the expectation that Novak would push through whatever was slowing him down.

Novak gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay in the game. He couldn’t afford to show any weakness, not with the way things were on this team. But as the nausea built to a crescendo, he realized with growing dread that he might not have a choice. His vision swam, dark spots dancing at the edges, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat.

"Daskalov, what the hell are you doing? Move!” another player shouted as Novak hesitated, trying to blink away the dizziness. But it was too late. His stomach clenched painfully, and before he could stop it, he doubled over, vomiting violently onto the field.

The action on the field came to a sudden halt as the other players backed away, grimacing in disgust. The coaches exchanged annoyed glances but didn’t move to help. Novak stayed where he was, hands on his knees, breathing hard as he tried to regain control. His body felt like it was on fire, every muscle trembling with the effort of staying upright.

“Get him off the field,” one of the coaches finally barked, waving a hand dismissively. “Someone take him to the locker room.”

Novak felt a hand on his arm and looked up to see one of the trainers, a younger guy who didn’t seem quite as jaded as the rest of the staff. “Come on, man,” the trainer said quietly. “Let’s get you inside.”

Novak nodded weakly, allowing himself to be led off the field. He could feel the eyes of his teammates on him, some of them sympathetic, others indifferent, but he didn’t have the energy to care. His only focus was on putting one foot in front of the other and making it to the locker room without collapsing.

Inside, the cool air of the locker room hit him like a blessing, but it did little to ease the nausea that still gripped him. The trainer guided him to a bench, and Novak sank down gratefully, his head dropping into his hands. He could feel the sweat dripping from his hair, soaking through his shirt, and his stomach churned ominously, threatening another round of sickness.

“You need anything?” the trainer asked, though his tone suggested he wasn’t expecting much of an answer.

Novak shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without setting off another bout of vomiting. The room seemed to tilt around him, the fluorescent lights too bright, the sounds of the other players outside too loud. All he wanted was to curl up somewhere quiet and wait for the misery to pass.

The trainer hovered for a moment, then, seeing that Novak wasn’t going to ask for anything, gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked away. Novak closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to keep the nausea at bay. He knew he should go home, get some rest, but the thought of facing the coaches’ disappointment, of being seen as weak, kept him glued to the bench.

For a long time, Novak sat there, battling waves of dizziness and nausea, until finally, the locker room began to empty out as practice ended. A few teammates gave him sympathetic nods as they left, the ones who had been sick too, and the only reason they acknowledges him is because Novak was sure they felt they owed it to him, not that he wanted shit from them at this rate, but most ignored him, too caught up in their own discomfort or general dislike of him in general to offer much in the way of support.

Eventually, the locker room was quiet, and Novak knew he had to move. He couldn’t stay there all day, no matter how much he wanted to. With a deep breath, he pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as the room spun. His stomach rebelled at the movement, and for a moment, he thought he might be sick again, but he forced it down, clenching his fists until the wave passed.

He needed to get home. Elya would be waiting for him, and Marceline would be there too, ready to help with whatever he needed. The thought of his daughter gave him the strength to push through the dizziness, to gather his things and make his way out of the locker room. But as he stepped out into the harsh sunlight, the nausea hit him again, and he had to pause, leaning against the wall as he fought to keep from being sick in front of the entire team.

No one stopped to check on him, and Novak wasn’t surprised. This team was different—here, you were expected to push through, no matter what. Weakness wasn’t tolerated, and Novak had already shown more than he wanted to. He needed to get home, where he could be sick in peace, away from the judgmental eyes of his teammates and coaches.

With a final, shaky breath, Novak forced himself to keep moving, each step taking him closer to his car and closer to home, where he could finally let go of the control he’d been clinging to all day. But he knew that the worst was yet to come, and as he drove away from the stadium, his stomach still churning, he couldn’t help but dread the hours ahead.

By the time Novak pulled into the driveway, he was barely holding himself together. The drive home had been a test of endurance, each bump in the road sending a wave of nausea through his already unsettled stomach.

The air conditioning in the car had done little to cool him down, and his clothes clung to his sweat-dampened skin. His head pounded with a dull ache, and his vision swam if he moved too quickly.

As he parked and turned off the engine, Novak took a moment to gather himself. He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to steady the swirling in his head and the churning in his gut. But it was no use—the nausea was relentless, gnawing at him with a force that made him wonder how much longer he could keep it together.

Home was supposed to be a refuge, but right now, all Novak could think about was how he didn’t want to burden Marceline with watching Elya for any longer than necessary. Marceline had been a godsend since she started working as Elya’s nanny, but Novak hated the idea of adding to her workload, especially when he knew she’d already been with Elya all day.

With a deep, shaky breath, Novak opened the car door and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. The heat hit him like a wall, and he swayed slightly, gripping the car door for support as his stomach lurched. He swallowed hard, willing himself to hold it together just a little longer, at least until he got inside.

Marceline was in the living room when he walked in, playing with Elya, who was busy coloring at the coffee table. The sound of Elya’s laughter was usually enough to lift Novak’s spirits, but today, it only made the ache in his chest worse. He hated that he was too sick to enjoy these moments with his daughter.

“Hey, Novak,” Marceline greeted him, her smile fading as she took in his pale, exhausted face. “You look awful. Are you okay?”

Novak forced a weak smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Just had a rough day,” he admitted, his voice rough and strained. “I think I caught whatever’s been going around.”

Marceline’s expression softened with concern as she stood up and walked over to him. “You should go lie down. I’ve got Elya, don’t worry about anything.”

Novak shook his head, even though the movement made him dizzy. “I don’t want to burden you. You’ve been with her all day…”

“Novak, it’s not a burden,” Marceline interrupted gently, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re sick. You need to rest, and I’m more than happy to watch Elya for as long as you need. I’m here to help, remember? Kind of goes with the perks of letting me live in the basement.”

Novak looked at her, feeling a wave of gratitude mixed with guilt. “Thanks, Marceline,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I don’t want to take advantage. The downstairs is yours, it's just an added benefit you're here but if you have plans with your friends or...”

“You’re not taking advantage of me if I'm offering,” she assured him, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Go get some rest. I’ll keep Elya entertained.”

Novak nodded, too drained to argue further. He gave Elya a tired smile, brushing a hand through her soft curls as she looked up at him with wide, curious eyes. “Daddy’s going to lie down for a bit, okay? I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Elya replied, her attention already drifting back to her coloring.

With that, Novak made his way down the hall to his bedroom, every step feeling like a monumental effort. His legs were shaky, and his stomach churned with every movement, but the thought of finally lying down kept him going.

Once in his room, Novak collapsed onto the bed, not even bothering to take off his clothes. The cool sheets felt like heaven against his fevered skin, but the relief was short-lived. The nausea spiked again, and he closed his eyes, trying to will it away.

He needed to call Marina like he always did at the end of the day. It was a routine that kept him grounded, especially with the distance between them. But today, even the thought of talking on the phone felt like too much.

Still, he couldn’t skip the call. Marina would worry more if he didn't call her than if he did and told her he wasn't feeling well. With a shaky hand, Novak reached for his phone on the nightstand and dialed Marina’s number. She picked up after a couple of rings, her warm, familiar voice filling his ear.

“Hey, Novak,” she greeted him. “How was your day?”

“Hi, Mom,” Novak replied, trying to keep his voice steady. “It was… it was alright. Just a rough practice.”

Marina paused, sensing something off in his tone. “You don’t sound too good, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay?”

Novak hesitated, not wanting to worry her but knowing he couldn’t hide the truth. “I think I caught a bug that’s been going around the team,” he admitted, his voice faltering. “I’m just… really worn out.”

“Oh, Novak,” Marina sighed, her concern evident even over the phone. “You need to rest. Are you home now?”

“Yeah, I just got home,” Novak said, closing his eyes as another wave of nausea rolled through him. “Marceline’s watching Elya… I’m just going to try to sleep it off.”

“That’s good,” Marina said softly. “Make sure you take care of yourself. I wish I could be there to help.”

“I know, Mom,” Novak replied, his voice growing weaker. “I’ll be okay. How's the gallery?"

"Good, it's good." Marina told him. She started talking, telling him about it. She always did that, talked to Novak to tell him these things. She'd done it especially more since Nikolai passed away. Novak loved hearing her talk, usually.

"Novak, sweetheart, are you alright?" Novak suddenly heard. He hadn't realized it, but he had closed his eyes, he was dozing off listening to Marina talk. "You don't sound good."

Novak realized he wasn't dozing off. He was trying to steady his breathing to ease the dizziness and keep from throwing up while on the phone with Marina.

But before he could explain himself, the nausea surged, and Novak knew he couldn’t hold it back any longer. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he choked out, already scrambling to get off the bed and make it to the bathroom. “I’ve got-“

He felt his sentence get lost in a gag, he had barely enough of a lull to choke out an “I’m going to be sick.”

Novak barely managed to hang up and tods his phone aside before he was dashing for the bathroom and falling on his knees in front of the toilet, retching violently. The force of it left him gasping for breath, his entire body trembling with exhaustion.

The sound of his own heaving echoed in the small bathroom, and all he could think about was how much he wished he could just be done with it, just get it all out so he could finally rest.

When it was over, Novak slumped against the cool tile wall, too weak to move. He felt utterly drained, both physically and emotionally, the fight to keep it together wearing him down. He hated being sick like this, hated the way it made him feel so helpless, so vulnerable.

But more than that, he hated that he was putting extra stress on the people around him—on Marceline, on his mom.

As he lay there, trying to summon the strength to get up and get back to bed, Novak couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of frustration. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his life after college—struggling to keep up with a demanding team, getting sick in the middle of training camp, feeling like he was constantly on the edge of burnout. But despite it all, he knew he had to keep pushing forward, for Elya, for himself.

Eventually, Novak managed to pull himself up and make his way back to bed, collapsing onto the mattress with a weary sigh. His body was heavy with fatigue, and the nausea still lingered, but he was too tired to care. As he drifted off into a restless sleep, his last thoughts were of Elya and Marceline, and the hope that he’d feel better by morning. But deep down, Novak knew that it would take more than a good night’s sleep to shake off the weight of everything he was carrying.

#emeto #sickfic #emeto fic #emetophilia #emeto cw #emeto tw #fever cw #fever tw #emeto writer #sicktember 2024 #sicktember 2024 day three

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goodmorningbatterycity · 2 months

Note

BLI commercial suddenly turns to static, you hear static noises then the screen changes, Violent Rays and his gang appear, Rays has a microphone Bomb Baby flashes a peace sign

Violent Rays: What's up, Killjoys. We heard theres an undercover BLI agent named Ricky Bobby whos going around trying to assign 'rules' for the zones. Well I've got news for you, dipshit, killjoys do what we want, when we want. We dont need your stupid rules, and godfuckin dammiy im gettin pissed off agiba Toxic Sunshine: OK baby, calm down there, maybe you should start your rap before you flip out again! (ʘ ʖ̯ ʘ) Violent Rays: Ok yeah your right, well I know he gave his last 'sign off' to @milligramspoison but we want to make sre this piece of shit never darkens our doorways aagin, thats right we wrote a rap just for him, hit the beat Bomb

Bomb baby starts beatboxing, Violent Rays goes to the front of the screen with the mic in his hand

Violent Rays: OK…let me pop my shit…

starts rapping

FUCK RICKY BOBBY WILL FERRELL SUCKS I DON'T CARE IF THAT MOVIE MADE ONE MILLION BUCKS

YOU SHOVE RULES DOWN OUR THROATS LIKE YOU'RE SOME KIND OF GOD THEN YELL THAT WE'RE TEARING YOU UP LIKE CORN ON THE COB

YOUR POSTS ARE ALL SHITTY YOUR RULES ARE A BORE YOU WANT TO TURN ZONE LIVING INTO SOME KIND OF CHORE

WE'RE HERE TO INFORM YOU THAT YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK AND IF YOU EVER DO YOU'LL BE UNDER ATTACK

FROM THE WHOLE FUCKING ZONES SO LISTEN UP, BOB GO BACK TO BLI AND EAT 3 DICKS ON THE JOB

Bomb Baby, Toxic Sunshine, Tickled pink and Nurse Marysa stand behind him in a straight line with there own mics, all 5 of them raise a hand and wave their arm back and forth

Bomb Baby: ALL MY PARTY PEOPLE PUT YOUR HANDS UP Toxic Sunshine: ALL MY PARTY PEOPLE PUT YOUR HANDS UP Tickled Pink: ALL MY PARTY PEOPLE PUT YOUR HANDS UP Nurse Marysa: ALL MY PARTY PEOPLE PUT YOUR HANDS UP

Everyone waves their hands while Bomb Baby freestyles for five minutes, Violent Rays dances around, lights flash from the ceiling

Violent Rays: Yeah thats right, thats the Ricky Bobby diss track, if he wants to fuck with us he knows where to find us, because he's probably a BLI spy, but he wob't because he knows what's coming for him, and its the ass-beating of a lifetime….yeah just try it RB, see if you'll come out with your nutsack still attached Toxic Sunshine: OMG I love you so much baby, you're so badass! ♪(´▽｀) Bomb Baby: Yeah, that stupid undercover spy isn't going to come back now! Violent Rays: And if he does, we'll just have to show him how we do it…….in the ZONES.

Video cuts out 5 mintures later

Ricky Bobby and Violent Rays. My children 🥺

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gtraccoon · 1 year

Text

final part. i’d be lying if i said this didn’t take forever oh my god, i needed a half good way to end it because of how much time i’ve spent on this. it’s lowkey sad it’s ending but i didn’t wanna over do it too much, like how much they did with the simpsons. (i’m sorry i love the old episodes but it’s getting to be a lot) between the lack of sleep and spraining my wrist i hope this is good enough, here yu go

His breathing hitched, and he pushed back a binder. No. No, no, no, this can’t be happening.

“Stan?” He exclaimed, frantically shoving his hands through his messily assorted backpack. He felt a tap on his shoulder. He whipped around, moving back. The kid’s eyes were wide, like he was shocked that Kyle was so quick, so jittery. His light blond hair moved in the wind, his hands pressed against himself. A light colored scar lined through his eye, the actual iris pale, a hint that the boy was half blind.

“Butters?”

“Uh… Yea… I uh, saw you lookin’ around for Stan. He’s not in there, I saw him, uh, some kids grabbed him up.” Butters said, holding his hands together, lowering his eyes nervously. Kyle quickly stood up, grabbing Butters’ shoulders, ignoring his attempt to pull back.

“Who?”

“I don’t know!” Butters shook his head, leaning back as a counter to Kyle’s hold, but ultimately getting nowhere.

“Butters, this is serious!”

“I-I know! Um, I just saw them go into, uh, the locker room. Boy’s.”

“Shit!” He exclaimed, letting go of Butters. The kid fell backwards, but Kyle wasn’t even paying attention anymore.

“Well—Wait!” Too many emotions. They coursed through his veins like lightning, dancing across the gloomy sky during a storm. His mind was storming, it felt like. His body was numb, and his head was light, but he had to get Stan back. He had been too worried about the possibility of Cartman getting to Stan, that he hadn’t payed attention to his backpack.

Where the kid actually was.

He dug his fingers into his skin, slamming the doors to the locker room open. A group of kids were huddled around a bench, crowded together like a cluster of trees. Their silhouettes were lit up by the light behind them, the stagnant and buzzing locker room light.

They turned to face him in unison, looking like robots with their dull eyes.

“Hey, you want your little friend back?” One of the kids said, his scratchy voice lingering. Kyle knew damn well he couldnt fight, he had literally used all of his energy to beat the shit out of Cartman less than an hour earlier.

Bluffing?

“Didn’t you see him beat Eric’s ass back there?” A sudden voice spoke behind him. He didn’t even need to look to know who it was. He shrugged, pushing it off like it was easy, when it definitely wasn’t. Why was Butters doing this? He had been rooting for Cartman, hadn’t he? It doesn’t make sense. But he wasn’t going to let this opportunity burn itself out, and this literally was his only chance.

“Just give him back and you won’t end up like that fatass.” Kyle muttered. He did mean it, he just wasn’t sure he could take on that many people. And he knew Butters wouldn’t help. Before he could even do anything, a violent knock at the door behind him shocked him.

“Hey! Teacher trying to get in on our fun!” One of the kids giggled, then cupped his hands around a tiny figure. Stan.

“Let’s just finish the doll up here.” Another kid, one with light blond hair, smiled. A smile completely devoid of any remorse for human life. Just because Stan wasn’t the size of a human didnt mean he didn’t think like one, feel like one.

He was lost in his thoughts. They grabbed at Stan’s limbs, the tiny boy’s screams dying into the stale air of the room. The flourescent light reflected off of his glossy eyes. He was sobbing.

He looked behind him, seeing that Butters had moved further away. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. Two insanely strong arms clamped around his, holding him in place, pinning him against the wall. He knew he couldn’t fight back. His arms felt like every atom in them were falling apart, falling asleep. He needed to wake up. Firey red hair draped infront of his face and tainted his vision, but he still saw their grotesque smiles.

How can they be so cruel? He wondered lightly to himself, feeling more and more emotionless about the entire situation. I mean, sure, he cared about Stan. But his reality was melting around him.

“Not fighting back? Makes it easier for us.”

The pained cries, the teachers outside the door. He had to make a decision.

Scream. Let them know. Let everyone know what happened. Stan would be potentially safe, but then again, everyone would know, so that could put him in even more danger.

Or sit here. That gives 0 chance for survival, considering at the hands of a bunch of middle schoolers Stan—who with anyone else, wouldn’t have survived this far—wasn’t going to live. Even if the kids changed their minds, found some mercy in their corrupted heads to understand that this wasn’t a toy or an animal but actually a human, they could squeeze too hard. Drop him. Step on him. Crush him.

Kyle really didn’t want to do this. He glanced up, watching them. They were going to pull him apart. They were pulling him apart.

Squeezing his eyes, he wrestled his arm free, after latching his teeth onto the boy’s arm. The metallic, warm taste of blood filled his mouth. Grabbing onto the lock of the door, it cracked open. Everyone sat in silence and confusion for a few moments, before the door flew open, a bunch of kids watching the commotion from behind the doors. A few adults came in, pulling everyone apart from each other.

He wanted to apologize, but he couldn’t see anymore. The last thing he actually felt was his head cracking against the cold damp tiles of the wall.

“Kyle. This behavior is very unprecedented, especially out of you!” His mom said, her tone so stern it could silence anything or anyone. His dad stood beside her, just disappointingly glaring at him. He didn’t know which one hurt more. “Hiding your friend from your family, from his family? Getting into a fight?”

“I was just trying to help him.” Kyle muttered, avoiding eye contact.

“Your friend was in an accident, something nobody can explain. That’s not something you deal with. It’s something you let adults deal with.” His dad’s expression was deadpanned but it was clear how pissed he was.

“Well, sorry. My bad. I want to talk to him. Where is he.”

“At the hospital.” She said, and he stood up.

“Why? He’s not hurt?”

“They’re trying to figure out what’s wrong with him.”

“Nothings wrong with him! Jesus Christ, you’re sounding like something’s wrong with you.” The words poured out of his mouth like bitter molten lava, but he didn’t have time to apologize. Turning around, he slammed the door shut behind him.

Those people who call themselves doctors are going to kill him. They’re gonna tear him apart like a piece of paper, then stitch him back together and call him fine. Their needles…

He grabbed his skateboard, and just as he was about to leave, his dad stepped outside. He turned around, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t. The hospitals miles away… I… I’ll just drive you.” He said, nodding Kyle towards his car. He didn’t smile, or thank him, or show any kind of gratitude. His mind was occupied, so he just jumped in. The ride there felt like hours, his anticipation building inside him.

What if Stan doesn’t want to see me? What if he’s mad because of what I did?

He rested his head on his arms, looking out his car window. He could see the reflection of his own eyes in the window, but he forced himself to close them. He needed to calm down.

Every time he looked anywhere he just pictured Stan’s terrified expression.

The car suddenly stopped, and his head hit the side of the windowsill, jolting him awake.

“I’ll wait in the car, okay?”

“Yeah.” He looked back, lowering his eyes. “Thanks.” He muttered, as he hopped out of the car. His old converse hit the ground, oil and water splashing up the sides. He half considered turning back, getting in the car and just leaving, but he couldn’t.

The hospital doors creaked open. The air was still, and it smelled musty. The area was so clean, so white, it burned his eyes. He walked up to the reception desk, pressing his hands into the counter so hard it felt like his fingers would break backward.

“Um. I need to see, uh, Stan.. Stanley Marsh, please.” The worker looked up at him.

“Relative?”

“I-Huh?”

“Are you related to him?” She asked, and he froze. They wouldn’t let anyone but family visit, right? But what if she checked? He shrugged, then nodded.

“Yes. I’m his brother. Got it? Okay?” He anxiously rocked back and forth, watching as she clicked a few buttons on her computer.

“Sure, just go. 2nd floor, 3rd door on your right.” She muttered, her dark eyes cutting through his lies, but it seemed she didn’t care enough to call him out for it. He wrapped his arms around himself, turning on his heels and leaving. This was such a bad idea.

The stairs were loud, the tapping of his footfalls sounded more like the ticking of a clock, which didn’t do much to make him feel better. The railing was ice cold against his palms.

I just want to hold him again. Know he’s safe.

He stopped outside the door, pressing his hand against the wood. His arms were weak. His knuckles were numb from the fight, his arms aching from the kids who grabbed him.

Cmon. Cmon, why the hell are you so nervous? Just open the door.

And he did. His heart stopped as his attention turned to the boy, his black hair covering his face, messed up and frizzy. His eyes were dark, staring at nothing. He wore his normal clothes, no hospital gown was really small enough to fit him.

“Stan?” He muttered, his legs feeling weaker than ever. Stan turned his head, and as soon as he saw Kyle, his eyes lit up.

“Kyle!” Stan cried, and before he could even comprehend, Kyle’s hands were around him, holding him against his chest, shaking.

“Dude. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault—I shouldn’t have got all pissy with Cartman, did they hurt you? I swear to God.”

“No. They— well, nottoo bad. The doctor looked, and said, um, they can’t do X-rays because at my size it’ll be dangerous, or something. They dislocated my leg, but that’s really just it..” He looked down, and Kyle pulled away, shifting him slightly while being extremely careful, setting him down on the parchment paper that covered the hospital bed.

“Are… are your parents gonna let me stay friends with you? Even after… you know, you shrunk at my house and I hid you for a few days..”

“I’m not letting them say no.” Stan responded, seeming more dedicated than he’d ever been for anything.

“Kyle?” A soft voice spoke, and he whipped his head around so fast he almost fell over. Stan’s mom, her hands were pressed against eachother. Randy leaned against the doorframe, chugging down alcohol. Kyle really couldn’t blame him, after seeing something like this he kind of wanted to down pure alcohol. Just to forget. To blame it on hallucinations from being drunk, the next day it’s for a hangover.

“You protected our child, and you could’ve just left him there.. but you didn’t.” She said, tears welling in her eyes. He stood up, immediatly feeling her arms wrap around him in a tight hug. “You have no idea how much I appreciate this. We owe you so much.” She pulled away, her hands still firm on his shoulders. “Anything.”

He looked back at Stan, who seemed helpless just sitting there. His mind wandered. Everything, from Kenny to Cartman to those kids, beating someone up for him, bluffing, lying, even getting Butters in on it. That was a lot, even for him. And all in a few days. Not to mention doing it all while Stan was 2 inches tall. He looked back at Stan’s mom, her expression soft. He exhaled.

“Just let me stay with him.”

“Of course. Anything.” She said, letting go of him and holding her hands infront of her. His dad set the bottle down.

“You sure you’re gonna be able to deal with him like that? Won’t be too much?” Randy asked, slurring his words slightly.

“I’ve made it this far by myself,” He shrugged. “And, besides, nothing’s ever gonna make me stop hanging out with my super best friend.”

#g/t #giant/tiny #south park #south park g/t #gt #writing #short story #giant tiny #g/t angst #g/t fluff #fluff #angst

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 1 year

Text

In The Still Of The Night

Song Inspo ::: Welcome To The Panic Room // by: Au/Ra

A/N ::: I wish I could tell you all why. But I really can't. It just sort of poured out of my fingers. This is probably the most ... different? ... thing I've ever written. I 100% blame the song for this shit. Ok, like 50/50. 70/30. Fuck. It was 100% my fault.

C/W ::: Toji AND Megumi are in this. Talk of consumption of blood. Not a lot though (talk, or blood). Without going into too much detail, sex stuff happens when the three of you are in the same space. Oral {F -> M}, P -> V, masturbation, dry humping, Dubcon, brief mention of bad past, if I missed any please let me know and I'll add them to the list. Aged up Megumi (21).

You walk in and see Megumi from across a dark gothic bar. He stares at you like you're his next meal and he's a vampire out for the games of the night.

You see his blue-green eyes as the dull lights bounce around the room. Multi-color shifts dancing on the people in the cages hanging from the ceiling while they cut themselves and drip onto the freaks below them. Lapping up their self-hatred because they can't face their own in the cold light of day.

He tips his head up at you, but he doesn't smile. You know what he wants. You know that by the look of his clenched fists.

Sneaking into the crowd to disappear for just a second longer before you succumb to this violent dicking down you so desperately need after the day you had in corporate America.

You dance.

You dance like you don't know he's watching your every move. Stalking you like you’re a lamb that strayed too far from the herd.

It's dangerous out here.

The wolves are everywhere. And they will eat you whole. They're counting on you to come to them when you're lost.

They promise to help you find who you so badly want to be. They vow to help you find your way out of this dark forest that is existence.

Megumi goes to you and pulls you close to his netted chest. The buckles and clasps hurt as he squeezed you to him. Telling you how bad you are for not coming to him right away when he summoned you.

"You defy people a lot, lost girl?"

You laugh in his face and lean in to kiss him. Biting his lip, sucking on the blood and spitting it right back into his pretty mask.

He rips your shirt right down the center and sucks on one of your tits. Returning the favor of the mild injury.

But it's ok. It's ok because you feel again.

His sharp teeth pulled at your potential life source.

"Get on your knees." He yells at you over the music. It was already beating you down. If he had waited a few more seconds you would have fallen willingly to his cock. But he is not a patient man.

You simp down and cower to his gaze. Undoing his belt. The button on his pants. The zipper. You pull them down just enough to free his angry, red dick.

It tastes sweet. Like blackberries after you bite your tongue.

He puts his hand on the back of your head as he pushes through the pathetic whimpers. You can't even think of begging him to take it easy on your poor soul.

But then he just laughs as the tears and black makeup streams down your cheeks.

He can't tell, but you’re really smiling. Those are tears of joy. He's fucking your mouth into oblivion.

Gagging on him, he finally cums into your tight throat. He moaned loudly, too. But the music was at its peak the same time he was. So you’re inclined to think they canceled one another out.

You stood as he composed himself as best he could, and pulled him to the corner of the large black room.

He shoves you roughly into the poster-covered wall and gets a hair's breadth away from the shell of your ear and tells you how good you did for him just now when you let him take your mouth.

You shivered against his hard body.

There was nothing warm about him. Even his cum felt cold as you swallowed it.

Though he assures you he is alive, no matter how dead his conscience may be.

Megumi pushes a code into the wall behind a square sheet of metal disguised as a poster. You never would have noticed it was different from the others had you not seen him move it.

You wonder if he feels the same way about you. Are you his metal poster? Did he see someone else touch you and he wasn't content with simple voyeurism so he has to force you into this secret room amongst the more "normal" people in this succulent place?

Hedonistic place.

"Sit. Down." He says to you, as he scans the smokey room. It's no bigger than a jail cell. But they still managed to fit a couch and a few chairs in here. "Sit down over there." He points to a stained bean bag chair next to a woman who was sucking on the ring finger of a man who was guiding another woman on his lap to fuck him how he wanted to be fucked.

Megumi lays down with you, he's between your legs. His eyes have a spark in them. Like he knows something you don't, but you'll find out soon enough.

He starts rolling his hips into you. You can feel how hard he is again.

Already.

Like father, like son.

You feel your hair get pulled roughly to the side and then his lips graze your pulse point. He sinks his teeth into you and you feel heat spread through your soon to be vetted body.

Your shirt is agape, much like your mouth, as you try to comprehend all of these things you’re feeling.

It's hard.

To feel, you think.

Megumi kisses down your chest to where your skin is covered again by yet more clothing.

Nothing special. Just black pants and a cheap belt.

He slips his hand through the half fastened belt and pulls it out.

"Get up."

You do as he says.

"Everyone out."

They grumble.

"Everyone get the FUCK out, I SAID."

The room clears out and for now, it's just you and him.

There are no cameras. None that you can see, anyway.

You’re just standing there, shivering because it’s cold and you’re more than just a little excited. More than just a little scared.

You hear a noise from the other side of the wall.

Someone is coming in. The door opens.

It's Toji.

You know his dad.You used to be his favorite fuck toy until one night things went too far.

But you three don't speak of that.

"What's he doing here." You try not to let your voice shake. But it doesn't listen. It's like a dead leaf falling from a tree.

Toji crushed your words.

"Hi, princess. Fancy meeting you here." He says in that sexed out voice of his. You hate that it turns you on so much to be standing in here with both of them.

But you can't help it. The heart wants what the brain can't comprehend.

Megumi steps out for a few minutes and Toji comes over to you and without saying a word, he removes your remaining articles of clothing.

He puts his large hands on your shoulders and doesn't even try to sugarcoat what's about to happen.

"It won't be like last time, doll. I'm a different man now. You believe me, right?" He begs without actually begging. His words are as sweet and sticky as honey.

You actually believe him as you fall into his arms and kiss him. Feeling his familiar tongue tipping the scales in his favor.

"Oh honey, if I were a bettin' man, I'd risk it all for your pussy. S'cute that Megs thinks he gets you all to himself tonight. Heh. Dumbass kid, that one."

He bends down and picks you up by the backs of your knees, wrapping your legs around his fine, tapered waist, and takes you to sit down on the overstuffed couch.

Toji's mouth latches on to your right nipple as his hand plays with the left. Pinching and pulling, just like you told him you liked it.

You’re honestly surprised he remembers.

You moan and start to grind that bared and wet pussy against the huge bulge in his pants just when Megumi walks in. Tucking your chin down, you turn and look at him sickly.

"Hi, Megs. Wanna play with us?"

Your eyes go to the back of your head because you're getting close to cumming all over Toji's lap. His dick just feels too good not to rub up against. Your clit keeps hitting the knot that's holding his pants up. Hoping and hoping your cunt will magically untie it and his pants will fall victim to the bitch that is gravity.

But Toji is a big boy and he has been dressing himself for longer than you've been alive. So they're not going anywhere until he decides it’s time.

Megumi moves to stand behind you and he spits on his fingers.

"Ass. Out."

"Magic word, asshole." You’re feeling braver now that Toji is here. That false confidence gets you into trouble every single time.

"What the fuck did you just say to me? Give ... me ... your ... ass, slut."

That was the magic word. It shocks you that Megs remembers your magic word, too.

These two must be more fond of you than you give them credit for.

Megumi slams his hand down on your ass and picks through your reaction with a fine-toothed comb.

Toji starts to baby you. Pulling you all the way onto his lap, your knees to your chest as you nurse a broken ass.

Which is much better than a broken heart.

You can feel Toji's precum through his pants sticking to you.

It feels cold and gross. Maybe he's a dead man, too, and you were too busy being on your knees to realize who you were dealing with.

The music is still hitting those low bass vibes out on the floor.

You want to dance.You want to put on a cloak of invisibility and shove these two into traffic and then dance around their bodies.

Megumi takes your hand and pulls you off of his dads lap and pushes you back onto the beanbag chair.

"Stay there."

You nod.

"Why'd'ya take my toy, Megs? That was awfully shitty of you." Toji stands and towers over you. Finally undoing the knot that kept his glorious cock.

"You need somethin', sweet pea."

You were hoping he'd ask. But it fell through the floor and landed as a statement. He was going to give you something whether or not you really wanted it. This so-called 'gift' he was going to bestow upon you.

"Yeah? Wha'do I need, daddy."

He loved when you called him that. It made him feel important. Like he was raising you to be better than you are now.

But you both knew that wasn't true. You are all you will ever amount to.

"You need … ahhh … my cock."

He pulled his pants down and kicked them to the side. His dick was already hard. Just like his son's. It was scary how alike they were.

But maybe that's why you loved them so much.

Toji picked you up and sat you back on his lap, his cock in your pussy as he thrust into you with every ounce of strength he had.

Megumi stood behind the both of you, again, watching. Jerking off to it all.

You felt him cum on your back at some point. But you were too busy focusing on the pleasure you were getting from the Zenin men.

It was everything you had been waiting for.

Toji was fucking you in all the right ways. Filling you up with his cum, telling you how good you were for taking it all.

"You're gonna get pregnant, princess. You want that?"

"I don't care. Fuck me."

And he did. He fucked you so good you thought you would die. You wanted to die.

You came on his dick, squeezing him for every last drop.

You’re shaking in Toji's arms.

He kissed you on the forehead. "It's ok, babydoll. You can let go. It's ok to let go."

And you did.

You let go of everything. The job, the stress, the bills. The bad memories and the good ones, too.

You were free.

You were free from it all.

But it wasn't long before you found myself in the same situation.

It's like a circle. One you can't ever get out of.

It's like being stuck in a hamster wheel. Running but never making it anywhere.

Maybe it was the cycle of your own birth and death.

These two were the literal symbols of your birth and death.

Megumi was young, gentle. Though not much more gentle than his father.

Toji was the older, more bitter Megumi. More experienced.

He is going to be the death of you if you aren't careful.

But it's so easy to be reckless when other people tell you they're going to look out for you.

"Princess." Toji said, “It’s his turn now.”

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @millennialmagicalgirl @callm3senpaii

#toji fushiguro jjk #jjk toji #jjk toji fushiguro #toji smut #megumi fushiguro jjk #megumi fushiguro smut #megumi smut #toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #megumi x reader #megumi x y/n #megumi x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut

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