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eunivrse · 4 months

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ASMR (VI) deal with the devil

# multi. aot characters / reader

─ you’d think crossing paths with the person who owns the voice you fuck yourself to almost every night would nearly be impossible, but then again, life is full of surprises.

chapter summary: everything you've done led up to this confontration. and now you're reaping the consequences.

content warning: nsfw (tbh just pure smut, breeding, creampie, unprotected sex, dirty talk, squirting), manipulation, complicated situationships, talks of porn and nsfw asmr

word count: 8.5k

quick note: hii hi i posted this on here for consistency purposes but the edited version of the previous chapters is only available on ao3 @ eunivrse

series m.list | next chapter

“Well, fuck.”

You aren’t sure if you cursed out loud, but the man in front of you seemed to have heard it as he clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, a way of poking fun at you for being so startled.

“Um- where’s Eren?” Trying to cover your surprised expression, you coughed to clear your throat.

“He’s in class. Too bad he left his phone though.” The blonde feigns a pout, swinging Eren’s phone in between his fingers to show you that he’s the one that messaged you before he placed it back on top of his friend’s desk.

“What do you want from me?” You decided to be frank instead of prancing around the topic in hand. He wanted to finish the interrupted conversation he had with you back at the party, you were aware of that. At the time, you were glad Eren stepped in before things took too far, but this time Armin calculated his steps to ensure confrontation will occur.

You’ve already lost.

He chuckles, taking a few steps closer to you until you are about a foot apart. “Why so tense, love?”

“Because- you scare me.” Probably not the best to be upfront by telling him that he’s scary to his face, but if he’s going to approach you as such, you’re going to make sure you have the upper hand.

He walks past you without a word and down the little entryway that leads to his shared dorm with Eren.

You were dumb to not even realize that the other side of the room was his. Being so infatuated with Eren, your mind has been clear of Armin and Euphoria for the past few days now. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but the idea of it somehow didn’t cross your mind.

Your feet were moving on its own, to the bigger space where you were boned by Eren just a few days ago. Armin took a seat on his desk chair and patted the space next to him, his bed, as a gesture for you to sit.

For some reason, you followed. Your stomach was churning, swearing you could feel your anxious levels bubbling up inside of you, but still; you still did as you were told like a trained puppy.

It’s the small part of you saying that it’s the Euphoria calling you over even though it’s possible that Armin will ruin your image for knowing something you shouldn’t have.

Reputation isn’t something you value all that much, but having a horrible one amongst your circle wouldn’t be pleasant either.

You looked down on your lap as you explained before Armin had the chance to start his berating, “Armin- I know me knowing that you’re Euphoria might cause you some issues, but-“ turning your gaze to the man in front of you, you noticed how he stared at you with sincerity.

It was strange, no, Armin Arlert is strange. One moment he terrifies you then the next would be him giving you the most reassuring gestures.

It’s as if he’s toying with you.

“But- I won’t do anything with that information. I promise.” Your voice trails off in a whisper, trying to convince yourself that you aren’t scared by any means, but your body language is saying otherwise.

“I know you won’t.” His tone was slightly demeaning, a small smile forming on his face as he elaborated. “Everyone has their secrets. You reveal mine and I’ll reveal yours. An eye for an eye, right?”

“My secret?”

He beamed in amusement, “Word going out that you filmed and posted a sex tape with Eren is enough to ruin you, yeah?” Armin is enjoying every second of this, it was obvious in the way he spoke, his facial expressions gleaming with fascination.

You scoffed, an attempt of trying to hide the way you’re trembling in fear, “H-how-“

Armin interrupts. “How do I know? We’re best friends, honey.” The word ‘honey’ rolling past his tongue almost made it seem like he was looking down on you. You didn’t know an endearing word like that could come off so… condescending.

“Why… why are you doing all this?” This was all so complicated. Honestly, you just wanted sex, the last thing you wished for was to be knotted with someone who seems like has unhinged tendencies. Someone who’s willing to throw his best friend under the bus just to satiate his craving of getting what he wants.

“For fun. We don’t need to be philosophical about porn, darling.” It seemed genuine enough, his friendly shrug gave you enough of a hint that there was nothing deeper than just him having… fun. Even if that meant blackmailing you to keep himself entertained.

Continuing with his statement after it was silent for a split second, he went on. “Can I be honest? I like the thrill of being known as someone completely different online. But you know, I get upset when nosy people get in the way.” Obviously referring to you, you stay quiet, not sure what to reply with.

“Tell me, you listen to Euphoria don’t you?” It was humorous how immediate your nod was.

“Yes… I subscribe to your patreon too.” What you are trying to achieve by unraveling that information to him is beyond you. This was starting to pique your interest, just like how Armin wished to.

He jests, chuckling quietly, almost diabolically. A laugh that lasted too long as you just sat with your hands warming in between your thighs. “Hah… no wonder you figured it out so fast.” He paused then glanced at you, meeting your eyes.

It all happened so suddenly, he practically trampled onto you, his frame over yours, arms on each side of you as your back landed on his mattress.

Putting your veil of confidence back on, you asked, despite the awkward position you were placed in. “Hey, can I ask why you called me over in the first place if you knew I wasn’t gonna say anything?”

“You’re interesting. Connie… now Eren. ‘Just want to see what the hype is about. Aren’t you curious about what Euphoria can offer too?” He grinned and all you could do was nod as you stared at his pretty blue eyes.

Armin was more arrogant than you thought. Of course he is, there’s millions of people online fawning over his voice. And the man himself is right above you, face just millimeters from yours. You’re living the scenario his fans can only ever dream of while they touch themselves to the thought of this.

“And Annie?” You were pushing it with this one. While you trust Annie, it was obvious that she was keeping something from you. Not like it’s any of your business, but your curiosity got you to where you are, so you might as well ask.

But as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat.

His eyelashes flutter as he blinks twice, then he hangs his head down, quipping while he stays in position, “Annie? She blurted out that she needed fast cash. I gave her the opportunity to record a few audios with me, so she can get a portion of the revenue we make from those audios. I think we both know that she’ll never speak of it to anyone else.”

’Just decided to stay professional.’

It sparked a memory in you, when Annie herself said the same thing back then, but what’s giving you the chills is the sharp contrast between how they both spoke of each other. Annie obviously had affection for him one way or the other, but Armin speaks of her as if they were mere co-workers.

As if sleeping with her was just a job to him. So much for his way of charity, you joke to yourself.

It’s a little terrifying but in a good-way. He’s definitely your type in that case. Someone who wouldn’t get their personal feelings in the way.

You aren't sure if Armin is the one moving way too slow, or your mind is diluted into slime that everything was going on slow motion for you, but his lips were mellowed and sweet, you can taste the familiar cherry chapstick flavor as his tongue made it in between your lips and into your mouth. Your half-lidded eyes were now fully closed, arms around his neck and his knee in between your legs.

Heart was starting to race, thumps so intense that you wouldn’t be surprised if Armin could hear it himself. Bodies pressed up on each other chest-to-chest, his hands now cupped on your cheeks— it felt warm. Armin’s kiss felt like a fluffy blanket draped over you on a cool winter night, all your doubts and worries about him didn’t matter anymore, you just wanted him now.

You already knew his voice alone could drive you in a state of euphoria, but this is way better than you could ever imagine. He was more gentle than you assumed based on the audios and the backhanded threats, it’s as if he gave you a drug to relieve your brain from thinking too much of it.

All this from a mere lip-to-lip action.

He pulled off shortly after, your eyes opening gradually, the sun from outside blazing through the window. It was obviously noon, the daylight out and about, but you were already so horny, pupils glazed with lust.

Armin pushed his thumb down on your bottom lip, swiping across it, then watched it bounce back up as soon as he released his hold. “You looked pretty in the video.” He whispers.

“You watched it?” Being aware that someone who knows who you are has actually seen it led you to realize how embarrassing you were acting in the tape. How vulnerable you let yourself be under Eren’s command.

And more so now that the man behind the microphone is talking about it.

He smiles with a sense of warmth. “You’re a natural, I admit. My favorite part was when you begged Eren to cum inside you. Would you let me do that if it were me?” If anyone else had asked you this, it’d be an immediate slap to the face, but this is him talking to you in that voice.

The voice you spent months fucking yourself to.

And he knew that.

It was such an eager nod, if you weren’t trapped right now you’d probably strip yourself naked. “Yes… I’d let you.”

Armin grins, the pads of his fingers right on your clothed crotch. “Really? You wouldn’t mind if I cum inside that pretty pussy?” His words were pure obscene, your panties definitely damp at this point.

“No.” You felt your breathing hitch, Armin’s fingers circling on the layers of fabric covering your clit. It was obvious how keen you are, your hips pushing itself towards him to feel more friction. He didn’t care to take off your underwear, he slid his hand under the garment and flicked your clit with the tip of his finger, feeding off on your hums of approval.

Your heart was thumping against your rib cage, you’ve never been this visibly antsy before. His crystal blue eyes scanning your clothed body, lips curved up into a smirk while he slips a finger in between your plush folds. The way your walls would clench around his finger, your hands sneaking and traveling around his back, your whimpers were sensual, alluring.

He leans down, face buried on your collarbones, his teeth already nipping on your skin. Noticing the faint marks littered on your neck, he kisses each one, as if he was the one that planted them on you. “Did you have a good time with Eren the other day?”

You were caught off-guard, answering with a breathy ‘yes’ as he teases his finger in you with a slight curl, even though you were praising him, not answering his question.

“Really? Hm… I bet I can do better though.” It felt like just yesterday when you were intoxicated, ear right up against your bedroom wall, wishing you were the one Euphoria was cursing, praising, cumming to. Words that might feel needles against other’s skin felt like heaven to you only because it’s Euphoria.

He kneeled on the floor, pulling your ankles apart and sliding your bottoms down, underwear leaking with arousal. It tickled each time he kissed your thigh, lips trailing up to your most intimate parts. You pulled your underwear to your inner thigh for him and he blew on your clit, glistened with slick. Licking a long stripe up your folds, you gasped, hands grasping onto his hair.

Euphoria knew what you wanted and he dished it out on you on a silver platter. He chuckled against the heat of your cunt, swearing you could feel his fucking smirk on you, then his tongue sticking out and flicking your walls. His voice was low and gruff while he groaned into you, saliva pooling and dripping all over your pussy and down your ass.

He pauses and taps your clit with his fingers, your teeth gritting in hopes of suppressing your moans. He eggs on, “Your pussy looks so much better in real life. I’m a big fan of you, you know.”

“Big fan?” You faintly ask, your attention gathered.

“Yeah,” He kisses your inner thigh. “I’ve even imagined that it was me instead of Eren in the video. Pretty pathetic of me, huh?” Judging by his tone, the lines between his intentions are blurred.

Is he mocking or praising you?

“That’s a ballsy thing to say at our first proper meeting.” You laugh, head thrown back when he flicked the tip of his tongue on your clit.

“First?” He raises an eyebrow.

You couldn’t ask any further even if you wanted to, he latched his fingers on the nook of your inner thighs, pushing you apart and nibbled on your cunt like he hadn’t had breakfast this morning. Your stomach felt tight, eyes seeing blank.

It’s been your biggest wet dream to have this man in between your legs. Although you didn’t expect him to be someone like Armin Arlert. He’s just too… poise and put together. Who would’ve thought someone as perfect as him also had skeletons in his closet?

You wreck out a cracked sob, hands searching for something to grip on. Legs dripping with his saliva and your juices, he spits on your cunt, then uses two fingers to split your folds apart. He takes a moment to stare at the clear sheen of arousal coating your pussy before sighing as a sign of approval.

With his eyes glued to the orb of saliva threatening to drip down his ivory sheets, he puckers his lips and blows towards your clit, amused by your reaction which consists of a curse and a twitch, of which he found quite cute. He teases, “well aren’t you a dirty girl?”

You play along, “I learned from the best,” implying that he’s just as filthy as you are.

Armin slowly slips a finger in between your folds and down your hole once again, relishing in the warmth of your walls compressing him so tightly. His thumb worked circles on your clit while he pushed his index in as deep as he could. All you could do was breathe out whines, too stimulated to protest for him to go faster.

It’s insane how many varying feelings you’ve gone through for the past 20 minutes. At one minute your reputation is being threatened, the next minute, the man you’ve unknowingly been fucking yourself to has his head in between your legs.

He wraps one of his arms around your groin, palm squeezing on your inner thigh to keep you spread apart. Sighing, he curls his finger inside you before pulling it out and slipping it back in, this time along with his middle finger. Armin muses, “I wanna see you cum this time, okay love?”

Hearing him talk like this live, let alone to you directly— you honestly couldn’t ask for anymore. The natural husk of his voice only intensified the knot in your tummy. He hadn’t had his finger inside you for more than 2 minutes and yet you already wanted to cum.

You aren’t too fond of Armin and his borderline demonic tendencies, but you can never resist that sultry, angelic voice of Euphoria’s. Unable to form a cohesive response from the tightness in your stomach, you stutter, “Y-yes— ah—!” He flicks his thumb up and down on your clit as he pressed light kisses down your inner thigh, his lips making their way to your pussy.

Replacing his thumb with the tip of his tongue, he jerked the wet muscle on your clit, which evoked a gasp from you. “So sweet,” he praises, kissing your clit before sucking on it. His fingers gradually increased in speed, curling them deeper with each thrust, eventually reaching the spot that provoked a pornographic moan past your lips.

“God…” You groan, your hands reaching up to massage your boobs for more stimulation. The slick sound of his fingers plunging in you was enough to push you over the edge, until—

Click!

No fucking way.

Someone’s using a key to open the door, which could only mean one thing.

Eren.

You were still for what felt like minutes, Armin quickly helping you up. Getting back to your senses, you pull your shorts back up, nearly sprinting to sit on Eren’s bed as opposed to where you just were. There’s no use of hiding, it’ll just make the situation more suspicious.

You watch Armin wipe the sheen off his chin with the back of his hands, your legs still trembling from the tingle and the denial of a release as you compose yourself. Eren unlocked the door and each of his step felt like it was in slow motion. Even you being here seems a little… off. And it’s even weirder that it was dead silent when he came in.

“Hey… guys. What’s up?” He seemed ecstatic that you were here, although confused since he didn’t invite you or anything. And he knows that Armin wasn’t too happy about you.

Before you could even juggle for an answer, Armin stepped in. “She called and since you left your phone, I answered and said she could stay here until you come back.” The fact that he was so quick to make up such a blatant lie doesn’t even surprise you anymore. He’s been able to hide his other identity so well, now you have a deeper understanding of why he probably hates your guts.

You’re like a small crack in his life that will eventually spread to break him.

Eren fell for it, responding with a nod as he walked over to cup your cheeks, leaning down for a quick, yet sincere kiss. You smile against his lips, although slight guilt was looming over you as Armin just watched. He then grabbed his phone, patting Armin on the back, and whispering something against his ear before speaking to you again. “I’m sure you both know each other by now, no need for introductions, correct?”

You weren’t sure if he’s referring to the thick tension or the fact that you two are mutual friends, but nevertheless the suspense was starting to eat you from the inside.

“Yeah… We’ve all hung out before.” You shrug, honestly starting to feel awkward that no one is discussing the elephant in the room even though that’ll probably make things worse.

Armin sat back down on his bed and pretended to go on his laptop, Eren sitting next to you on his mattress. “So what did you call me for?” He asks, his palm rubbing your thigh. Armin side-glaring at you from a few meters away, practically telling you to not speak a single word about what just happened was enough to provoke a lie out of you.

“I just wanted to see you…” Your lips perk up into a feign smile.

Eren gleams, “Really? I was actually about to ask you if you wanted to go out with me this weekend.”

His beamed expression is something that you honestly couldn’t reject. And a date doesn’t mean a relationship right? You’ve only gotten to know him for a couple of weeks anyways.

And Eren definitely isn’t the type to be serious about relationships.

“A date?” You shoot a quick glance at Armin at which he just smiled and stared at you, watching you like a hawk.

“Doesn’t have to be, though I’d prefer it if it was,” Eren’s nonchalant attitude tells you he’d probably never asked anyone out for a genuine, wholesome date. He had just said it doesn’t have to be a date, and you kinda owe him anyway for helping you get back up on your feet even if he wasn’t aware, so why not?

“Okay. You’re paying for everything though.” You stick your tongue out, at which Eren scoffed at. Your agreement to this ‘date’ is also partly to take a jab at Armin. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, his fingers click-clacking on his keyboard without a care about your conversation. But you knew he was all ears.

You looked at the time on your phone and realized you have class in half an hour. “I have to go. I’ll see you Saturday then?” You stand up, Eren grabbing your hand as he followed.

“Yeah. I’ll text you.” He kisses your cheek before letting you go. You wave to Armin before twisting the knob to leave the room. The last thing you heard before closing the door was a “see you” from Armin.

Something tells you that you will see him again before that meet-up with Eren.

---

Classes are over and you were laying on your bed, bored since everyone is busy and you’ve done everything you had to do for your classes, surprisingly.

For some reason, you were looking forward to hanging out with Eren. You didn’t really mind considering it as a date, you kinda miss the giddy feeling of getting ready and looking nice for someone.

During your moment of slight excitement, your phone dinged.

The number is unknown, but you knew who it was.

‘are we gonna finish what we started earlier?

Euphoria.

You gulped, yes, but you were wishing for this in the back of your head. There was nothing more you wanted than to have that man inside of you. Even if he’s a little crazy.

Typing, you respond, ’i’m free rn and annie isn’t here.’

That typing bubble felt as if it lasted way too long even though his response was just a mere, ‘what time will she be back?’

’not until a few days. she went home for the weekend’

The odds were in your favor, Annie took an early weekend and left a few hours ago to spend time with family.

He replied with a thumbs up, and you closed your phone, chest rising and falling, eyes glued on the ceiling.

---

The sun has set, the bright spring sky switching to its dark, gloomy counterpart. There were no stars, except for a few of which you can assume are just helicopters. It’s been a good 10 minutes since Armin had texted and as soon as it turned 9:00pm, you heard a knock on the door. You were quick on your feet to welcome him into your apartment.

Clad with an oversized shirt and his cargo pants, he walked in from the dark hallway to your humble abode, where you can clearly see that he’s wearing a pair of innocent looking glasses.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with this place,” you say sarcastically, Armin ignoring you and sitting straight at the dining table. You follow, pulling the chair from under the table and sitting across from him.

“So what do you want?” You might as well lay all your cards out if he’s threatening you.

He pushes the bridge of his glasses up to his nose. “A deal.”

Feeling a sense of deja vu, you repeat his words. “A deal?”

“Yes. Make content with me.”

You weren’t planning on retaliating, this has practically been what you’ve been fantasizing about since day one, however you weren’t going to let Armin get whatever he wants that easily.

“What’s in it for me?” You raise an eyebrow. Armin leans in closer, both elbows propped on the wooden surface with his fingers laced together.

“Half of what I get from each audio goes straight to your pocket. Isn’t that more than enough? But of course—“ His plump lips curve up into a smirk.

“I know the sex is something you’d enjoy as well.” The perverted words coming out from his mouth is a clear juxtaposition mixed in with his boyish appearance.

The silence was getting too thick, and Armin proceeded to explain, “As you know, Annie quit. I never planned on having a partner in my audios, however, ever since her appearance, my patreon subscribers have nearly doubled. Do you understand now?”

As much as the deal will benefit you tremendously, you couldn’t help but bring up the obvious. “What if Annie finds out about this?”

“If you’re feeling guilty, then you should know that she’s the one that broke it off with me. And it’s part of your job to be discreet about this. Tell one person, even Eren, and the deal’s off-“ He seemed as if he was going to say something else, however he kept his mouth shut.

“You’re acting like I would ever mention you to Eren. I’ve been sleeping with the guy for fuck’s sake. And plus, you aren’t really that special, Armin.” Your lip perked up into a small smirk, a little part of you hoping that your harsh words are jabbing his ego.

“Good. Keep it that way.” For some reason, his responses kept pissing you off.

You stand up and slam your palms down on the table. “Okay, I will! God, you’re insufferable.” Your face was heating up from built up wrath, Armin’s lack of response only making you want to flip the table over. The reason why you’re so angry is something you fail to answer yourself.

He stands up from his chair after a few seconds. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, you’re getting on my goddamn nerves.” You turn your face away from him.

That’s too bad…” Walking towards you, he grabs your chin to look him in the eye. His grip was tight, any longer and your face would bruise. You could see your vulnerable state through the reflection of his specs, his sapphire irises showed nothing but purity, yet his words were bordering evil.

“Fucking deal with it then.” He scoffed tauntingly before clashing his lips against yours. You clawed on his t-shirt as he transferred his bruising grip onto your waist, ultimately pushing you against the ledge of the table. The cold coffee mug that Annie left on top of the wooden slab rattled, but that didn’t stop you from pulling Armin by the collar and shoving him, the both of you switching positions. He whimpered against your mouth from the slight ache of his lower back, giving you an opportunity to slip your tongue inside, your teeth ramming into his bottom lip.

You pull out for a moment to get a breath of fresh air, panting in between soft kisses, “Let’s go to my room.”

Armin huffs, “Can I record?”

You roll your eyes, slowly inching away from him while having your hand twisted on his collar. “What else would you want to do this for?” It would’ve been easier to just say yes, but that just isn’t you.

By holding his wrist, you led him to your bedroom. When you get in, you turn around and he shows you his phone with a voice memo app on and recording.

Of course, your curious self also wants to know the specifics of his content. “Don’t you use a mic?”

He shrugs, and walks past you to place his phone face down on your nightstand. “Only when I’m alone, easier to manage and all.” He strolls towards you, cupping your face gently and using his thumb to caress your cheekbones.

Your cheeks were bunched up in his hand, lips forced into a pucker as he whispers, “Just pretend like the phone isn’t even there, okay?” With that, he locked his lips with yours tenderly, an clear opposition to his prior behavior. One of his hands is already under your shirt while the other is on your shoulder, slowly easing you into your mattress.

As you trail kisses from the corner of his lips down to his neck, you mumble, “I wanna suck you off…”, pausing him of his attempt on laying you on the bed.

He showed no sign of retaliation, urging you to unbutton his pants to pull it down. You kneeled on the carpet ground as his trousers reached his ankles, the rough surface prickling your kneecaps already. You notice a bump poking out of his boxers, the view of it all from just his toned thighs and the sneak view of his pelvis already got you gulping.

Curling your fingers on the garter of his underwear, you pull it down, his cock popping out in all its glory.

The description you’ve been picturing in your head about what this would look like is way better than what your imagination could fathom. His tip is flushed pink, just oozing with beads of white, and it’s long enough that it curves up, perfect for hitting that sweet spot of yours. There’s also a vein that protrudes through the middle of the shaft to the tip, your pupils dilating at the sight.

You’ve had your fair share of dicks, this one might be the prettiest one.

You shimmy a little closer to grab his cock for the first time and holy shit, it feels surreal. Palm wrapped around him, you start moving your hand up and down as your lips get closer to his tip. There were no reactions from him, you looked up and he just stared with a dull expression, arms crossed as if he was bored.

Well, that was the case until your lips made contact with the slit seeping with precum, licking it up and sticking your tongue out to show him what you’ve done. That whimper was a sign that you found his sensitive spot.

Well, that was fast.

You glanced up at him as you took his cock in between your lips. He grips his fingers on the back of your head and pushes you until his tip slammed the back of your throat. Squealing, he proceeded on using your throat as his personal flesh light, saliva frothing and dribbling down your chin.

“Oh- yeah, keep suckin’ it just like that, ah–” He chuckles, his cock nearly stretching your throat, swollen lips pressing up against his balls. You latched your nails onto his thick thighs for leverage, head bobbing up and down as your tongue swirled all around his lengthy cock. Tears brimmed your waterline, mascara staining your cheeks.

You were taking it like a champ, you barely made any gurgling noises that implied that you were gagging despite the minimal allowance he allowed you to breathe. He thought it was quite impressive.

Caving your cheeks in, you groaned from the pang of your jaw, the vibrations causing him to squirm. “Oh yeah… ah fuck yeah…” The series of whimpers and curses echoing around your room sent chills down your pussy, it really is so much better live.

You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself, amused at his change of tone just from a pair of lips on his cock.

The more you think about it, the more you’re starting to put the pieces on the puzzle. Armin does have a really distinct undertone of a British accent in his speech.

It’s not too noticeable to people who don’t pay attention, but in your case, you’ve heard hours worth of just his voice. When he’s under the facade of Euphoria, his deep, husked voice has that similar British accent, voice gradually becoming higher pitched as he reaches his high.

“Fuck baby, hah- you— don’t stop.” He mewls, voice strained, your chin soaked with saliva. You pulled off with a gasp, a strand of spit connecting your lips and his tip. Smirking, you palm his cock and jerk him off, blinking up at him with innocent eyes. He couldn’t protest even if he wanted to, only being able to moan until his throat went dry.

Clearing your throat, you taunt, “You’re so cute, can’t wait to cum in my mouth don’t you?” You hadn’t expected Armin to heed to you, he just nodded in desperation, his cock twitching the more you slid your hand along him.

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh fuckkkk— hah—!” He stiffens, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut as he lets it all spill out. It didn’t take long until you felt the strings of warm, ivory cum spurting all over your lips as he moaned out loud, nearly choking on his own saliva. You stood up, knees weak and wobbly, licking your lips to collect his seed in your tongue while you pulled him by the collar in for an eager kiss, forcing him to taste himself.

Parting from him, you grin, “You taste amazing.” self-confidence off the roof from making him cum as hard as his voice has made you these past months.

He laughs faintly, “It’s your turn, baby.”

The phone recording every sound you make had already slipped your mind by this point, as Euphoria would’ve preferred. You grab the bottom hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his chest, which Armin was willing to do the honors of discarding it completely, letting it plop on the floor.

All you could think about was that Armin is fucking gorgeous. You just assumed he was cute and adorable because of his boyish complexion, but he’s built like a Greek statue under the sweaters and cargos he’s often clad in. His skin was smooth, arms toned, chest chiseled perfectly with his subtle abs, and a perfect v-line connecting to the sole thing you’ve been looking forward to feeling inside you.

Likewise, you cross your arms to take your top off to toss it somewhere in your room. Your lack of bra, nipples stiff and perked had Armin’s lips pursed into what you assume is anticipation. Maybe you were moving way too slow for his liking, methodically slipping your skimpy shorts off along with your panties, because Armin didn’t even wait for you to kick the garments off to the side before spinning you around, your back against the near ledge of your plush mattress.

Your brain could barely register what just happened, it took seconds before you realized that your legs are being pried apart with his head in between.

Armin muses, taking off the shorts and panty that hung off your ankle to throw it across the room. “You’re going to have to move much faster next time, yeah? I don’t like waiting.” The sternness in his voice only caused you to leak more than you already have been, bare pussy gleaming with your arousal. You could only nod and hum a compliant ‘mhm’, the cool breeze of the centralized AC wafting past your wet cunt, heightening your sensitivity.

The warm contact between your clit and the apex of his tongue evoked a curse slip past your lips. Teasing you, he proceeded in kitten licking the same spot til it was swollen and raw, already leaving your desperate cunt leaking all over the sheets beneath you. It was shocking honestly, how quickly you released, little spurts of squirt seeping down your ass while Armin teased. You squirmed, the back of your head digging against the plush mattress as you reach your brief high.

He chuckles, “So soon? I just started, love.” He rolled his thumb back and forth on your throbbing clit, while using two fingers to split your folds apart, eyeing the round orbs of slick rolling down to the sheets.

Trembling from overstimulation despite barely being touched, you weep, “Need more… I need you so bad,” Armin poked his tongue in between your folds, tapping at your wet hole without giving his thumb a break. Your hands latched onto his locks, pushing him down the heat of your cunt.

The warmth of his saliva pooling in between his mouth and your pussy dripped down his chin, the mixed noises of slurping and moans echoing in your room. Your thighs were shaking, threatening to clamp onto Armin’s head, however he didn’t let you— gripping onto the plump of your thighs and forcing them wide apart, letting the cold air hit your pussy.

Your legs were spread on the bed, allowing you to really feel how good Armin’s tongue feels inside of you. His licks were tight and precise as it grazed your throbbing hole, his nose buried just right under your clit.

He takes a breather, blowing on the heat of your cunt as he plugged two fingers deep past your hole, feeling your walls clench around the ridges of his knuckles. “You’re gonna have to hold it this time, love.” The request is nearly impossible when he’s curling his fingers in, making you whimper in resistance.

The occasional giggles he would have matched with his lewd sucking were more than enough to draw another orgasm out of you. His voice was truly mesmerizing, any word that rolls off his tongue can get you soaked.

Waiting for your response was none of Armin’s concern, he plunged his fingers with ease, eyes glimmered with nothing but awe at the sticky mess he’s creating in between your legs. The ache of his balls was starting to get unbearable, tingling with his filthiest urges. As much as he wanted to punish and ruin you for reasons he couldn’t clearly answer himself, there’s nothing more he wants than to pound you into the bed.

Armin lowers his head, lips reaching to nip at your clit, his fingers reaching the spot that emitted a sharp gasp from you, crimson lips from biting them so much turning into an ‘o’. Your pussy down to the base of your ass is coated with a sheen of your slick, Armin pushing the plump of your left inner thigh on the mattress to prevent closing your legs.

He reveres, “Been waiting for this since you left earlier… ‘never seen such a pretty pussy,” He was rambling, but he wasn’t far off from the truth.

“Hahhhh— yeah, fuck, that’s it—!” Your groan nearly reached the pit of your stomach, tears brimming your eyes before panting sporadically, just waiting for that sweet voice of affirmation to give you permission.

He cleared his throat before chuckling, “Show me how it’s done, doll.” You were a mess to say the least. Hands pressed up on your chest to push your breasts together, letting a clear stream of fluid projectile on Armin’s lips as soon as he pulled his fingers out while you struggled to breathe.

Small spurts kept spraying out of your needy little hole, Armin tapping on your clit with the tips of his fingers, a little force inflicted in his touch which provoked a frail moan out of you.

He stands upright, knees sore from digging them in the ground. Hunching over your frame, his shadow cowering over your body, he sees you in all your glory, drowsy and fucked out. He’s not even done with you and you’ve already given out.

He mutters, face leaning closer to yours, lips just barely against your ear, “Are you sure you don’t want more?” Every fiber of your being is telling you to sleep, but your mind is telling you to let him use you like you’re nothing but a mere doll.

“I do… ‘need you inside me…” your pathetic pleas is something Armin couldn’t resist, the twitch of his cock from your dulcet tone mixed in with your disgusting words almost made him impatient. Chuckling, he stands back up and you watch while he preps himself, fucking his fat cock into his fist, his thumb smearing off the leaking bead of precum.

You stare at the ceiling, mouth agape when he placed his cock in between your folds, savoring the snug feeling of your wet pussy as he slid himself up and down, tip knocking on your clit. Your reflexes kicked in and you lifted your ass up a bit, rolling your hips to match his pace. Your little whimpers, body shaking from having to hold your weight on your elbows, Armin couldn’t help but place his hands all over you, thumb pressed on your lip while the other played with your pert nipple.

His hand was locked on your jaw while you nipped on his thumb, forcing your eyes on him. It’s hard to say that he isn’t absolutely gorgeous when he’s under that innocent facade that he likes to pull.

Golden strands of hair were stuck on his forehead, collarbones and his abs sheened with sweat. He chuckles when he notices the drool seeping out of your lips and on his thumb. “Are you ready?” Still rocking his cock back and forth slowly, you nod to give him the green light. Letting your jaw go, your head falls back on the bed as he positions one of your legs against his chest while you gently wrap your fingers around his cock, pointing his tip right on your hole.

Armin grins at your eagerness, rutting his hips to let his cock nudge into your pussy, walls sucking him in, welcoming him inside you so kindly. You couldn’t help but moan, neck stretched to throw your head further into the mattress. He presses on your tummy with his palm, squeezing on the plump of your skin as he taunts you by keeping stationary, dick barely halfway through.

He hacks out a laugh, while he stares in adoration at the way you’re bouncing your hips, desperate for the need for stimulation. The sticky, wet noise of your pussy rubbing around his cock just tells him how much you’ve wanted this. Just how pathetic you’d get for some dick.

In your defense, him being halfway through was enough to get yourself off, his girth was enough to stretch you apart. Hell, just hearing his voice can make you cum with just a finger.

His hands grabbed ahold of your waist, nimble fingers squeezing on the pudge of your skin. His lips were curved into a smile, “You have to wait for me, pretty. Is that okay, hm?” His hum sprung into a high pitched tone as opposed to the rest of his sentence. Of course you listened, you were in heat and you’ve been touching yourself to that exact same tone more often than not.

Armin kneaded on your waist with the pads of his thumbs while meticulously sheathing himself inside you. He stopped when he had filled you up to the hilt, quickly glancing at your gorgeous face one more time before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours. You shiver, a little whimper drifting past your lips, followed with a huff to catch your breath again.

However, he stays cruel with his treatment, vehemently fucking into you in a pace that caught air stuck in your throat. You struggled to find the correct words to egg him on, but what you didn’t know was that your moans and your presence itself was more than enough to make his balls twinge.

Propping your elbows onto the duvet of your mattress, you tuck your chin in to look at the work being done on your cunt. His cock was splitting you in half, his base coated with your arousal mixed in with his pre. Your abdomen was tight while he pushed your lifted leg closer to your body. Flexibility isn’t exactly your forte, but you had him to thank for drilling into you in this angle.

His cock might not be as girthy as Eren’s, but he knew how to give a good fuck. After all, Eren is an exception. No one can compare with him in terms of size.

So it’s hard to admit that he makes Eren seem like an amateur in everything else.

Expected from Euphoria, but surprising for Armin.

He swung your leg to the side, lifting it off the bed and leaving one of your ass cheeks on the bed, letting the rest of your body move sideways. His swift movement left you dumbfounded, you were babbling nonsense as he plunged into your seeping cunt, thighs slathered with your arousal. Armin coos as he panted, “Fuck, yeah. Love it. ‘Love your wet pussy milking me so well.” His string of whimpers and curses dominated yours, you’ve never met another man this vocal in bed.

Your grip on his cock had left his head blank, he was practically acting on instinct by the way he’s digging into you, the sheets rustling with each thrust. Saliva bubbles on the corner of your lips, dribbling down the mattress in uneven shapes. You cry, “Please, baby. ‘Need you to cum inside…” Almost every inch of your body was aching— yet you yearned for it. One of your forearms was pressed onto the linen sheets and the more he moved, the more it burned from friction.

Armin groans, hips still stagnant in speed, “Hm? Want me to fill you full of cum? Such a dirty slut…” Your cunt was so welcoming to him, sucking him in like there’s no tomorrow. The sight of your titties bouncing in sync with his pounding had made him eager to strike it with the heat of his palm, igniting a sharp, quick gasp from you. You turn your head, shooting a glance at him, mildly surprised at what he just did. His once sapphire eyes were hooded with pure animalistic lust and your lack of retaliation only provoked him to do it again, watching as your boob jiggled against the other, soaking up on the whines you’d make in response.

He amped up the speed of his cock, balls grazing your inner thigh. In accordance, his moans were being drawn out in higher pitches, those sweet familiar tunes that you sleep to every night. “Hah— shit, I watched you get fucked by him the other day, yet I don’t remember you being like this.” He didn’t need to elaborate on who he’s talking about. You knew.

And he expects you to answer. He couldn’t care less about the recording. In fact, this could even be good material for his content.

“I- ah— he wasn’t—“ you’re mumbling, distracted by the sheer length of Armin’s cock filling you to the brim, battering onto the same squishy spot that got you yelping.

“He wasn’t what?” He wants to hear it although the answer is quite clear already.

You glare at him with half lidded eyes, stammering, “Shut— the fu-fuck up and make me cum already damn—“ Him bringing up someone else while destroying your insides was pissing you off, it was giving insecurity. Although it did cross your mind that it might be because he wants to milk you for content; figuratively and literally.

Armin hisses as his hips staggered in speed, now clapping his hips in slow, deep strokes. “Hahh, you’re so ambitious— ngh—” His sentences likewise weren’t coherent, his release basically sitting at the entrance of his tip, ready to stuff you full.

The change between his quick, powerful thrusts versus the sensual strokes had left your mouth hanging, nearly shrieking. “Please… I wanna— ah—!” Armin dropped your cramping leg back down, putting all his weight on the bed as he lodged his cock into you at a faltering pace, fists practically embedded onto the mattress.

He’s so painstakingly close, using up the last of his strength to plow into you one more time, stuffing you full of cum. The cute little twitch his cock made after emptying into you was what drew you to your high. Armin’s head flew back as you both went silent for a quick second before simultaneously groaning at the feeling of release flowing throughout your spine and the rest of your body.

Armin’s breathing stuttered as he managed to jest, “So much fucking cum…” keeping himself plugged into you as you felt viscous, milky consitency seep out of your hole and down your ass. The pit of your stomach felt warm and full as you pressed onto it with your frail hand to check if this is actually happening to you right now.

If you were really just fucked stupid by the man of your wet dreams.

He slouches down to capture your lips once more, feeling regenerated while you nibble on his bottom lip. You both open your eyes, bringing your hand up to brush his cheek with your warm palm. You manage to perk your lips into a small smile before he leans in to give you another peck. For a moment, it felt real. The kiss felt so genuine and you’ve found what people in love call connection.

But this isn’t love. This is just two people practicing their lustful desires onto each other.

You don’t even know him.

Pulling out, his limp cock twitched at the cool air, glazed with pure, translucent white. You sigh at the hollow feeling, thick ropes of cum oozing onto the soft sheets.

Armin stands up and picks up the clothes that splayed onto the ground, handing yours back to you as he starts to dress himself. He asks as he takes his phone to stop the recording, “Everything good?” His smile was innocent and it still catches you off guard.

You nod, composing yourself by getting a tissue from the nightstand to wipe the mess in between your legs “yeah… thanks.” Not caring enough to put shorts back on as no one else was home anyways, you led Armin to your front door with nothing but a fresh tee and your underwear on.

“I had a good time. Thank you, Armin.” If you were going to be working with him, being on good terms wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. Being friendly towards him is your best course of action.

“Me too. You were amazing.” was all he said. Your cell phone dinged from your hand and you held it up, unaware that Armin saw it as well.

It was a text from Eren.

’Can we talk?’

You closed your phone quickly, not being able to do anything but sigh at the complications of your, relation— well— situationships.

“Well, good night. Have fun on your date.” Armin caresses your cheekbone with his thumb before you bid him farewell, your heart pitter pattering with each second as you watch him disappear into the shadow of the hallway.

Something about Eren’s text doesn’t feel… casual.

You’re not in a relationship whatsoever, so why?

Why does it feel like you’re being disloyal?

#aot smut #armin smut #armin x reader smut #attack on titan #snk smut #attack on titan smut #aot x reader #armin arlert x reader smut #snk #aot #armin arlert smut #eren jaeger #eren smut #armin x reader #eren x reader #eren x reader smut

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just-a-strange-boy · 1 year

Text

a helping hand

part one

part two here

masterlist

Unable to use his hands after the accident, Stephen is in desperate need for some help. And who are you to refuse?

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader (GN)

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), questionable sexual proposal, handjob, edging, orgasm control

A/N: IT'S TIME! buckle up bc this is shameless... and tbh who wouldn't love to help our poor Stephen in need

"Of course I'll help out", you had said, thinking that you could spare some time, to sporadically take care of Christine's friend, determined to offer a hand whenever you could.

It was a clear arrangement – whenever she couldn't be around to help, you'd be the one to step in for the time being. Keep an eye on him, help him around the house, and make sure he won't do anything stupid that might hurt himself.

And you had just been fine with that. It wasn't an issue for you to pop by once in a while. You had flexible work hours and being the reliable person that you were, Christine knew you'd definitely jump in when needed.

What you hadn't expected was kind of getting stuck with helping, something you had most definitely not signed up for, to the point where you found yourself regularly on duty during your free time. Not that you didn't like to help out – there were worse things you could have imagined and there must have been a good subconscious reason why you kept agreeing to it.

You just hadn't planned to get so wrapped up in it.

Instead of simply sparing a couple of hours for Christine's friend because you could and thought helping him out was a good deed, you had ended up agreeing to an entire week on duty at his apartment, because someone had the audacity to leave for a medical congress, letting the task of caring for him fall into your hands and not missing the opportunity to instate you as a personal watchdog.

"Yeah, don't worry about it", you had said, though her request initially confused you.

Why was she asking you to stay around his apartment for an entire week? Not even Christine stayed around him for that long, knowing fairly well how insufferable his behavior was sometimes, glad she had the distraction of leaving for work and getting out of the house once in a while.

Maybe you wouldn't have had to agree to staying at his apartment all week. A couple of hours would have sufficed and you couldn't even quite explain to yourself why you still put yourself up to the challenge.

Perhaps it was because Christine always had the tendency to put on that kind of tone and expression on her face that expressed 'Please do it for me or else I won't be able to get rest'.

Being the worry wart that she was, she wouldn't have let it go until you caved – which was exactly what you had done, agreeing to her request anyways and accepting you would just have to pester the man in question with your presence.

He probably would have been happy to stay on his own for a bit, with no one around to constantly get on his nerves. You often felt like this was exactly what Christine and you were doing.

He would have been fine, probably, because it wasn't like he was incapable of taking care of himself. Yes, he was in a vulnerable position, his last surgery hadn't been that long ago and his hands were still in some state. There were things he couldn't do on his own, he needed to rely on help with certain things, but he wasn't a child needing to be coddled.

Christine's friend, Stephen, had gotten into a fucking wreck of a car crash, leaving him unable to use his hands, which had taken the most damage. You had heard plenty about Stephen Strange before all that happened, considering he had been good friends with Christine ever since she had gotten employed at the Metro General. But you had never had the pleasure of truly getting to know him until you began helping him out.

Plenty of people probably knew, as did you, that Stephen used to be a truly brilliant neurosurgeon, who would obviously not be able to continue to work in that field since his hands were pretty mangled. Which of course was really frustrating him to the point where he had refused to accept help from outside, all alone in his stupidly huge apartment, relying on not another person in the world but Christine, who was pretty much the only friend he had.

And now he had you too, since Christine (understandably so) also needed a break from Stephen sometimes and had pulled in you, her sibling, for help.

At first Stephen had been mad at her for even bringing someone else around for something as ridiculous as being cared for, claiming he didn't need to be pitied by another person, as pity was all he had for himself and his lost career.

But once his frustration was out of the way, he had warmed up quickly to you. It might have been because he had quickly learned how snarky you were, unashamed to speak your mind and comment on his occasional dickish behavior, volleying his little jabs and teasing him right back.

Or perhaps, it was simply because you weren't throwing him a pity party, while never once belittling him for the amount of help he actually needed.

By all means, Stephen should consider himself lucky that someone put up with his shit.

It was a given that Christine helped him out, considering they'd been pretty close friends for years and colleagues as well, she was aggressively caring for those she loved, and since Stephen didn't have a lot of other people to rely on, she fit the role perfectly.

You also quickly began to understand why she had wanted to split 'Stephen duty' with someone else though and being family, you were apparently the only reasonable choice.

She could be certain that he wasn't going to dismiss you or else he would have to endure the wrath of Christine – and she sure had a temper people knew better than to mess with.

So had he though.

He truly was the perfect match for butting heads with on the regular. Sometimes you were convinced he was just being a cocky and arrogant ass out of spite, to rile you up, to get on your nerves as a payback for getting on his, to have some fun because he was getting sick of his recovery at home.

Sometimes you acted out of spite too, placing things out of his reach, screwing on bottle caps extra tight, rearranging his cupboards, to the point where he was forced to ask for help (which he hated doing), but this, as much as most of your comments, was all meant in good humor.

You were sure that Stephen got it. He didn't seem to mind that you were head-strong and speaking your mind, didn't seem too bothered by the harsh things you said sometimes or the not-so-friendly tone you tended to use when it was necessary.

He even seemed to find it rather amusing sometimes, making for playful banter, and in a way you were almost certain that he liked having someone to argue with, even if only for his entertainment.

It offered him some sort of distraction he desperately needed, after things going dastardly wrong, after all this suffering due to his own stupid lapse of judgment, letting himself be distracted while driving and leaping down a cliff.

There was a lot of pent up frustration within Stephen, a lot of sadness, and desperation. Things he didn't necessarily show, but obviously felt anyways. So whenever you managed to put a smile on his face with your gentle, friendly teasing, you were relieved to see him in a different mood.

You liked Stephen quite a bit, no matter how much he was irking you on some days – and no matter what it was, you were always there to help. So maybe staying at the apartment all week wouldn't be as bad.

Surprisingly enough, Stephen hadn't resented the idea either, though of course dropping the occasional comment about not wanting to be under supervision 24/7.

While you were not one to coddle, going after your own work on your laptop and giving Stephen some space during the day, you were insistent on taking care of his basic well-being, as usual.

You did care for Stephen, and not just because of your sister. In some sort, you considered him your own friend as of now, wanting to make sure he was having a reasonably pleasant recovery, fully aware how much it must suck to go through all of this.

How far you were willing to go though? No one, not even you, would have been able to tell.

"You can either eat the food I make for you or go back to wasting your money on shitty takeout", you had set pretty clear the first evening, scolding him like he was an insolent child not wanting to eat his greens, staring him down at the kitchen table when he wouldn't bother touching the dinner you made, "But I sure as hell won't let you miss out a meal."

Whenever you had stepped in prior, you were trying to make sure Stephen ate properly and regularly, because you knew the man occasionally refused to take a meal altogether, which usually ended in an argument. When arguing with Christine, she tended to give in.

While you were really fed up with his stubbornness sometimes, you had always accomplished getting at least some food into Stephen and this time was no different.

A mere two days later, you had been quietly working on your laptop in the living room, waiting for Stephen to finish up his shower, when you heard a thud and a loud "Fuck", thinking that perhaps the shampoo bottle had slipped out of his hands. It didn't sound like a dangerous bang, so you weren't sure whether you needed to check on him or not, but just in case something bad had occurred...

You still got up, caught a peek into the bathroom and rolled your eyes hard when noticing that it hadn't been his shampoo, and dear Lord, Stephen had apparently managed to slip, the spray of the shower still raining down on him while he was sulking on the tiled floor.

"Did you hurt yourself?", you asked instead of 'Are you okay?', because you knew that Stephen felt far from okay the way things were. He was obviously ashamed this had happened, any other person would have been too, but accepting of the situation itself, accepting that he needed help.

He didn't dare to look at you then, but you could tell there was defeat written all over him and it probably wasn't helping his embarrassment that he was stark naked – which wasn't the first time you had seen him like this, as you had assisted a few showers before and gotten into plenty of awkward situations whereas you'd seen a bit more than asking for, but still... the two of you sure could have imagined a more comfortable setting.

Though you were rather unafraid to touch him, which was a good thing. How else could you have possibly helped?

You touched Stephen all the time. Helping him get dressed? Done that. Combed his hair? Yup. Shaved his stupidly handsome face? Also yes. Changed the dressings on his hands? A given. Assisting him in holding as much as a spoon without dropping it? Daily. Tucking him into bed at night? Okay, maybe not that one, but you sure would have, if he had asked you to.

"It's hard to fall down gracefully without using your hands to help yourself", Stephen sighed, but turned out to be unharmed by his tumble, though he would likely still get away with some bruises from the impact. Coming round the shower cubicle, you could see his knees seemed to have taken a lot of the brunt, not too mention he had cracked the skin of his elbow open, trying to not use his hands to ease the momentum.

"This is ridiculous. Slipping in the shower like some seventy year old sod”, he grumbled.

"I slipped in the shower once as a child and that's how I lost two of my teeth. It happens, Stephen", you tried to ease the mood, momentarily seizing the spray, so you could aid Stephen to get back up without getting too wet yourself. You casually looked him over – he seemed fine enough to continue. At least he hadn't banged his head or something. Still, you decided to stay nearby for the rest of his shower, making sure he was able to get out unharmed.

"What were you even doing? Were you feeling dizzy?", you inquired, helping him towel off his hair, quietly acknowledging how long it had gotten since meeting him for the first time and especially how the gray on his temples had begun to spread.

"No, just unaware of my surroundings for a moment, didn't think and... there I went", Stephen answered, but you weren't sure if that was the whole truth.

You accepted it though, continuing to help him dry off. Situations like these brought an uncomfortable awareness to your mind - he was putting so much trust into you, letting you help him like this, and you had never really managed to find a good answer as to why he was allowing you do all of those things for him.

All the signs of trust were obviously there. He was letting himself be vulnerable with you, being in situations that were so deeply intimate without refusal or much shame.

Stephen was allowing you to touch him too, aiding him with getting dressed, letting you check his newly won bruises today – and as usual, quietly accepted your care for his hands, his sore point, tender and heavily scarred, so that he mostly kept them hidden beneath a layer of bandages, ashamed of having anyone see them.

Sometimes, only sometimes, you even got the impression that whenever your hands were on him, it seemed to ease the tension out of his shoulders, never minding the undoubted awkwardness of the moment.

You weren't one to judge. Maybe he did want a bit of comfort after all and therefore didn't mind being taken care of sometimes, even though always pretending that he didn't need any help or tending to.

Everyone needed someone. Even him.

Stephen was a very lonely person. He would have never admitted to it, but all the fame and the glory from his neurosurgery days hadn't really ensured stable friendships and people being actually interested in him on a personal level. On the contrary, a lot of people had dropped Stephen rather quickly. But not Christine.

And thanks to her, you wouldn't anytime soon either.

You grew aware of Stephen's actual issue, when your work was interrupted for another time that same day. Finally coming to actually work on a commission that had been prompted weeks ago, setting the final touches to the project, tapping away on your graphic tablet, you took note of the noises coming from Stephen's bedroom.

Somehow you tried to make sense of it as moans of discomfort, anguish, perhaps he was having a nightmare, perhaps he was in pain, perhaps he was just frustrated he couldn't sleep, a reoccurring problem he had described to you before.

Whatever it was, it did appeal to your little helper syndrome and you at least felt like you needed to look after him, figure out if anything was going on that might require your help.

So you went to check on him, no regard for personal privacy, quietly opening the door to the bedroom, about to inquire what was going on and whether he was okay.

"Stephen? Is everything... oh..." Shit. Okay.

You had barely crossed the threshold to the room when you took note of what exactly was happening. Because the noises of frustration weren't rooted in trouble sleeping, but as it seemed in sexual desperation – and apparently the man had been trying to get off, unable to take care of his evident erection, pulling the blankets over himself immediately once noticing that you were standing in the doorway.

Awkward.

Standing like a deer in headlights, you wondered which one of you would have rather wanted a hole to open in the ground and swallow you whole to avoid the complete embarrassment.

"God, fuck, I'm so sorry", you apologized after overcoming the initial full-body freeze, not sure whether to leap out of the room, cover your eyes or just act bluntly about it. Logically it would have been best to not make a big deal out of it, because it wasn't, not really.

Just a private moment you had interrupted. Nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone had needs.

"I was... uh... I was worried something was the matter and...", you tried to explain then, going on stuttering and noticing that nothing you were about to say was going to save the awkwardness of the situation.

"Well, you know what's the matter now", Stephen sighed, barely illuminated by the soft lamp light from the bedside table, though still turning away from you in plain shame, continuing on with the sort of self-pity you had never experienced so strongly from Stephen before.

"I'm pathetic. Can't shower without help, can't live without help, I can't even jerk off without help, because of this stupid fucking car crash and these stupid fucking hands and I can't even blame anyone but myself for it."

It wasn't all too often that the man voiced his own hurt so intensely, clearly on edge, emotional about what had and, in that case, what hadn't happened.

Understanding of his evident frustration, but unsure what to do with him now, in this state, you contemplated. Things were already awkward enough and it didn't help you remained standing there while Stephen was wallowing in self-pity, and you weren't really sure why the idea of helping him out even crossed your mind in the first place.

Sure, helping around the apartment was no big deal, attending to Stephen's needs was okay, but taking care of this rather specific issue... you didn't want to push his boundaries too much after all.

And yet you were so bold as to ask, "So, are you in need of a helping hand?"

"Fuck off, now is not the time to make fun of me", Stephen groaned, probably ready to smother himself (or you) with one of the pillows, "Life already mocks me enough. I don't need to have you ridiculing me because of this."

"I'm not... I'm not mocking you", you assured him, finally moving, closing the door shut behind you as you went over to the bed, watching his cowered figure, "I'm just... I'm not pitying you. It's just...me... requesting like... a favor for a friend in need? I'm sure I could help you out some way? If you wanted me to, that is."

"Why would you even offer that?", Stephen asked, though appearing neither dismissive nor exceptionally shaken about what you were suggesting. A little in disbelief perhaps, but that wasn't surprising since you were clearly deciding to cross a boundary for the two of you here.

"Because life's been shit for you and I guess you could need some relief. Since you can't seem to get off on your own, I'm offering to help you with it", your answer seemed to make him consider and you planted yourself down on his bedside. You reached out and touched his shoulder, trying to find out how he would respond to you initiating touch.

"Maybe it will help you unwind and relax?"

Stephen turned to look at you. "We will never speak of this ever again", he hummed in agreement, "And not a word to anyone. Especially not Christine."

"Promise", you agreed – this was definitely not something you were meaning to boast about. You just wanted to help and the decision to do this for Stephen had been surprisingly easy to make.

A normalcy had kind of settled over the situation, which however didn't mean that you weren't feeling some type of way. You were a little jittery as you slid into bed next to Stephen, making sure not to cuddle up to him too much, because you weren't sure how he would feel about any unnecessary affections.

This was just about a quick hand job and that was it. It already must have taken a lot for Stephen to even accept the offer. Not to mention, a lot of desperation too. But he trusted you. This was a friendly gesture and nothing more. It didn't have to mean anything, let alone be a big thing between you, something that might never be mentioned ever again.

Gently pulling back the blanket, you probably held your breath as much as he did, reaching out, making sure to touch Stephen where his sleep shirt had ridden up at first, your hand finding its place on his stomach, letting him get accustomed to your touch, which wasn't entirely new to him – this time with a little different intention than usually, which made it all the more exciting.

The man drew out a shaky breath, agitated even, and his muscles were tensing up before he was even thinking of relaxing. Looking at him, you could see there was concentration on his brow, his gaze averted to the ceiling, neither daring to look at you nor at where your hand was resting.

"Okay?", you asked.

"Yeah", Stephen said, barely a whisper. His consent urged you to go on, your fingers brushing over his abdomen, following the trail of hair down his navel, fully aware that his pants were still bunched down somewhere around his knees, and you could have reached for him right away. But you didn't, sliding your hand past his arousal, stroking along his thighs instead, bracing yourself to make the next step and touch him more intimately.

But even your hand on him alone was seemingly enough to awaken all sorts of things within Stephen and he sucked in a sharp breath as your hand skirted his inner thighs. He was warm, his thighs firm under your touch, and you gently squeezed them in reassurance.

"You're a damn tease", he muttered.

You thought replying something witty, but you knew better and just bit your tongue this time, curiously watching his face, not meaning to stare at his genitals. It wasn't like Stephen didn't seem to like it. He had closed his eyes, seemed concentrated, small breaths were slipping past his lips, and he swallowed hard.

As you continued to carefully caress his thighs, you could most certainly feel him squirm, tensing again, but not because he was uncomfortable. He was aroused, you had no doubts, and his words just made it all the more evident he wanted you to go on.

“Please don't make me wait”, he requested, so quiet as if he was speaking a forbidden thought aloud.

You didn't, fingers trailing the path up his thighs, enjoying the little huff that escaped Stephen when you brushed past his balls, reaching for the half-hard member, responding to your touch with a twitch, stirring in interest. Wrapping your fingers around him, you grabbed the base of his cock in a tight hold.

"God, I feel like I'm about to burst already", Stephen groaned in anguish as his breathing almost turned labored instantly, pressing his head back into the pillows, and the notion alone encouraged you to be a little more bold in your advances.

"Well, we can't have that, can we? Spilling your cum all over my hand and I haven't even really gotten to touch you?", you chuckled, unsure how Stephen would react to your words, but unable to hold them back. He didn't seem to mind the dirty talk though – if anything, it seemed to rouse him even more. You could feel the warm flesh throbbing in your hand, practically begging to be touched, already craving some release.

But maybe you didn't have to make this as quick as you had planned for initially, only allowing him slow movements of your hand, gently tugging on his cock, drawing out soft moans. And dear lord, he sounded wonderful. It was entirely entrancing and you found it hard to choose where you'd rather look – at the subtle emotions passing Stephen's face during your ministrations or his erect cock. With utmost interest, your eyes flicked back and forth.

You made sure to touch all of him, from the base all the way to his tip, thumb gliding over the glistening cockhead, a satisfied smirk coming to your lips when you noticed how much precum he was already leaking, circling his glans, before stroking down again, tracing the veins on his length, making sure to give special attention to those spots that made him buck his hips when touched.

No wonder Stephen was responsive and desperate for it. You had no idea how long it might have been since someone had touched him, intimately most of all. Stephen didn't have anyone, wasn't partnered and you doubted that your sister was that sort of friend. His own hands wouldn't do, which had caused you two to end up like this in the first place. Touch-starved like this, there was no doubt Stephen deserved someone to take proper care of him – and you had made it your mission to do so.

Unfortunately for him, you weren't all that nice to just give everything to him right away.

So as the man tried to thrust into your hand, wanting to chase his own pleasure, needing more, you eased the grip of your fingers around him, almost letting go off him, stopping any sort of movement altogether, earning a huff from Stephen.

"Oh, fuck off", he groaned with evident frustration, fully aware you were doing this on purpose.

"Do you want me to stop then?", you asked, with a grin Stephen didn't see as he still kept his eyes closed, and loved the power you held over him - you could have just taken your hand away, walked off and left the man even more desperate than before. Of course, you would have never been so cruel to actually do this, now that you had already gotten started, but the thought was amusing.

"No", another groan followed, "I want you to go on, you asshole." Then a pause. "Please", he added then.

"As you wish", so you tightened the grip around him again, jerking him at a slower pace, gently at first, before beginning to move your hand a little quicker, knowing very well that the change of rhythm, the change of pressure applied, was going to keep Stephen more on edge than anything else. You knew how, in some ways, it was more than cruel to tease him like this, in his position no less, but if Stephen was seeking release that badly, you might at least make the best of it and draw it out as much as he could.

You'd make sure to give him an exceptional orgasm.

So whenever you felt Stephen tense up, his breath quickening, his moans increasing, his words more pleading, brows furrowing, biting down on his bottom lip, when he might have been just on that threshold to achieving an orgasm, you stilled any movements again, sometimes taking your hand off him entirely, sometimes only abandoning his cock for a moment, though always long enough for a looming orgasm to be ruined entirely. It was a torturous game to play, trying to bring Stephen close to the edge each time, only to deny him pleasure the last second.

It didn't take you much to drive him to madness with fleeting touches, promising release, not quite allowing him to get it, and then doing it all over again.

The sight of Stephen was wonderful. He was squirming, erratically breathing, his sweet moans turning to frustrated groans, his words reaching from "God, please, just let me come" to "I hate you for doing this to me", but still welcoming your hand whenever it returned to touch him, each time a little more.

You didn't even want to imagine how much his balls must have been aching after minutes of being edged and denied, but of course you decided to take pity on Stephen eventually. You weren't that heartless after all and when you finally gave into him chasing his pleasure, allowing him that sweet relief, guiding towards the long awaited orgasm, it was absolutely worth it.

For the last few strokes, you even let him thrust up into your hand, gently guiding him through his orgasm as it struck. A long and shaky moan escaped his throat, a sound of relief coming from deep within, his body completely tensing up, before that concentration finally left his brow and was replaced by a look of ease, surrendering to the sensations altogether.

You could feel his cock pulsing, thick cum spilling all over your fingers and it didn't even seem to end there. He really was bursting, arching his back off the mattress as he was coming loads and loads, his entire body was trembling, sweetly groaning.

You doubted anything could have ruined the moment for Stephen now and thoroughly enjoyed how he was seeming to enjoy himself, jerking him through the remaining throes of passion, until his body just slumped.

Noticing his orgasm had passed, you eventually took your hand off his cock, gently placing it on his lower stomach instead, both sticky with cum anyways. You smiled to yourself, following the movement of his chest, still breathing heavily, and decided to wait for him to calm down again, allowing him another moment of comfort, allowing him to have another presence near, someone warm and caring.

He deserved it.

Though it wasn't like you weren't doing this at least a little bit for your own gain. You had enjoyed doing this for Stephen, had drank in the sight of him, this intimate moment forever etched inside your brain. And now that you thought about it, you wondered about whether you could still only consider this a friendly favor or if perhaps you wanted things to change between you.

You had never really questioned the kind of feelings you harvested for the man. Or could see yourself potentially having for him, if there was any sort of potential at all. Of course, you had come to consider him a good friend – but good friends didn't just randomly pay each other sexual favors, did they? Not like you were counting on this being more than a one time thing... well, unless he wanted to perhaps.

"Jesus... that was kind of... mind blowing. I mean I haven't come for weeks, but I don't think I have ever come that hard in general...ever", Stephen commended you, interrupting your train of thought, still a little out of breath, "Fucking hell, where did you even learn to give handjobs like that?"

"Years of studying", you joked, deciding to definitely not give him an honest answer to his question, looking at him to find him curiously eyeing you in return, "Sorry for being a tease. Can't say that I didn't enjoy it though."

"So did I. As you can probably tell", Stephen sighed, seeming a lot more content, showing you one of his rare smiles, "Though I'm probably going to need to wash up again now. I'm sticky and sweaty."

"It was my pleasure. Make sure to tell me if you ever need assistance again", you patted his stomach and leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek, before withdrawing altogether, trying not to smear any of the sticky fluid on your hand anywhere else it wasn't supposed to be, deciding to flee the room quite fast after realization hit that you had just jerked your sister's friend off. You had made your own friend, a man relying on your help day by day, come the hardest in his life ever.

Though perhaps it didn't matter, for this was only going to be a one time thing and you'd accomplished to help him out, only because he needed it. The moment was gone now and it had been good while it had lasted. That was the most important thing.

Stephen's voice stopped you in the doorway when he spoke your name. "Thank you. Not just for this. For everything you do for me.”

You turned your head back for a moment, gave him a reassuring smile, acknowledging his gratitude, and left anyways.

#k writes #stephen strange #doctor strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange smut #stephen strange x you #marvel fanfiction #x gn reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #stephen strange x male reader

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fun-k-board · 5 months

Note

AAAA YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!! :3333 could I maybe request CG Storm and CG Rogue? Maybe them and a little reader who’s a bit on the fussy/ tantrum-y side?

Thank you!!!!! ^^ (u probably know who this is but I’m too scared to come off anon 😭)

X-MEN '97 - Little reader who's fussy and tends to have tantrums

SFW INTERACTION ONLY!! AGE REGRESSION IS NOT A KINK!!

Note(s): HEHHE I KNOW!! It's alright tbh I'm terrified of coming off anon too (⁠´⁠-⁠﹏⁠-⁠`⁠；⁠)

Powered through writing this because you're cool as hell and I like you! 💪 I don't and didn't really have the most idk 'attentive' family, so I'm not the best judge on how to take care of kids or people in a kids mindset, I may be a little bad at writing for caregivers and age regression in general because of this.

ANNA MARIE DARKHÖLME / ROGUE

'Hey, hey now sugah, let's calm down, you don't want to go in time out and I don't want to send ya. Explain to me why you don't like the food, I'm perfectly alright gettin' you somethin' different, there ain't no need to get upset.'

Anna can sometimes tell when you're about to have a tantrum or become more fussy than usual, even if you tend to take a while to throw a full fit, she'll watch you carefully and try to prevent one from fully forming. Gently kissing you on the forehead and brushing back your hair, asking what's wrong with a worried look on her face.

The moment you start yelling, kicking, or even crying, maybe after ignoring her question, she finds it hard not to just fold and give you what you want, after all, you're just so cute. However, her sense of responsibility and care for you overwhelms her need to coddle you.

Anna will say your name firmly, getting you to pay attention to her, and only her. She'll get a tissue for you and wipe your tears away, and ask firmly what you're sad or angry about and if you could possibly explain it to her.

If you can't verbally, for whatever reason, she'll give you the opportunity to write it on paper or she'll play a guessing game with you, the guessing game is only for when you're extremely upset and need cheering up though.

If you explain, in whatever format you need to, that you're upset because of an issue that's causing you distress, maybe food triggered sensory issues, someone was mean to you, etc, then she'll let you off the hook because you clearly didn't mean to cause any harm and you were just acting out.

Rogue will give you a bit of a talking to, telling you that crying and throwing things makes it difficult to help, but that's about it. Given it's not your fault she isn't actually too mad, she just wants you to understand that she won't know how to help if you're kicking and screaming.

If, however, your outburst was because of a silly reason, say you don't like the colour crayons and you throw them at her, she won't be as quick to accept it and move on.

She's still very sympathetic and won't ever raise her voice at you, even when you've done something especially terrible for no apparent reason.

Anna is very lenient and her 'punishments' usually just include a minute or so sitting in the corner, maybe withholding drawing from you for the day, but she always makes sure to explain in detail why you're being punished and it's usually only a last resort.

Rogue is very sweet even when she's being stern, her eyes can't help but go soft and her tone slips from that firm scolding one she uses when you're being bad, to a sweet almost coo-like baby voice.

Afterwards she comforts you like there's no tomorrow, telling you that she didn't want to hurt your feelings by taking away something or sending you to the corner, but you just need to learn some manners and how to handle yourself.

If you're fussy in terms of only liking clothes of a certain colour, food cut or made in a certain way, or things being done in a particular order, she absolutely doesn't mind doing these things for you! When it comes to cooking Rogue tends to ask for Gambit's help, she's not the worst cook in the world, but she can't do it like Remy can.

When it comes to removing parts of food, maybe you like to remove the crusts of bread and have them separate or not at all, she'll happily cut them off for you and maybe even eat the crusts while talking to you.

Sometimes she matches clothes with you! After all, 'If you like these clothes, they must be the best ones they got!' She says with a grin.

ORORO MUNROE / STORM

'My child, it's important to remember your manners when speaking to those around you. I am not angry, but you must tell me what is wrong if I am to correct my mistake or you are able to grow.'

The moment she notices you starting to throw a tantrum, which is fairly fast even if your signs are just a deep frown, asking you if everythings alright and most of the time avoiding any tantrums before they begin.

However, sometimes you refuse to tell her what's wrong, perhaps you go straight to throwing toys or food, pouting, yelling, in replying she will simply hold a gentle hand on your shoulder and kindly repeat her question on what the matter is. Her tone is gentle and her face is one of genuine concern.

Like Rogue, if you're in distress because of something that's not your fault, or maybe you're just overwhelmed, she will never hold it against you at all. If you're comfortable with it and it's something you need to calm down, Storm will pick you up and give you a tight hug, if not, she's alright with just holding a hand on your shoulder, or even removing her hand and only speaking to you.

Ororo will get on one knee, bending down to speak to you in a hushed whisper, she'll tell you that it's all okay, that she'll help you and make it better, give you different food, turn off the lights, whatever you need, she can give it to you.

However, if you're just being fussy to perhaps get a reaction out of her, she'll raise her brow in an almost amused action, as if she finds your attempts to be aggravating as cute as a cat nibbling on its owner's hand. If you're throwing a fit just to throw one, she will definitely tell you sternly that you cannot do such things, at least not in her care.

I don't think that Storm is the type to use the corner or naughty step as a punishment, after all, she has her own fear of tight, dark places, you may fear loneliness, or abandonment, she does not wish her own troubles onto a mind like yours.

Instead, she talks to you, more importantly, she'll help you figure out what you did wrong, how to improve next time, and reflect on her own actions to see if the trouble was caused by a mistake on her part. It won't be an in depth conversation, she tends to use stuffed animals as an aid to show you an outsiders perspective.

If you're struggling with saying your words out loud, never fear, she has tons of paper and crayons, or pencils, pen, markers, etc if that's what you prefer, just for you! She keeps them in her room for whenever you regress and want to keep near her when doing so.

Ororo will advise you to draw your feelings, maybe even write a letter if that's more what you're comfortable with. She doesn't mind bad spelling or handwriting, she's quite good at deciphering even the most atrociously unintelligible handwriting.

At most, and only if you've been really bad, she'll lead you to your room, or hers, just to make sure you don't get embarrassed and act out further. Storm will tell you what you did wrong as firmly as she can so that you'll understand. It's only a light scolding though, she never ever raises her voice when you're around unless you need or want her to.

If she ever does raise her voice and it startles or frightens you, she will apologise, regardless of if you've done something wrong or not. It's never her intention to harm you, you've entrusted her to care for you and she will do anything in her power to achieve that goal.

If your fussiness is about certain clothes, textures, toys, etc, she absolutely doesn't mind exclusively getting you certain clothes or toys, and she won't be angry at all if you throw a tantrum over texture or taste, because she's fully aware it can be distressing to have an unfavourable texture of clothing of food.

Ororo will always ask questions about something before she gets it for you, after a while she knows pretty much all of your likes and dislikes.

She's a great cook and can switch the taste or texture in something with just a flick of her wrist, something she doesn't mind doing, especially if the food she's already making is something that causes a lot of stress.

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girlboybug · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

"he hit me and it felt like a kiss."

or the one where ellie finds refuge in your farm house, whereas joel only finds a challenge of self restraint when he meets you.

what’s playing 🎧 : ultraviolence by lana del rey

pairing : joel miller x female!reader

word count : 9k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, mean!joel, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, manhandling, rough sex, spitting, slight voyeurism if you squint, f!masturbation, m!masturbation, spanking, fingering, slight dom/sub dynamics, panties fetish, creampies, unprotected sex, breeding kink, light restraining, choking, tummy bulge, impact play if u kinda squint and tilt ur head, degrading, light praise, daddy kink im sorry yall (not rlly), unspecified age gap, dirty talk, fluff for 2 seconds at the end :p

TRIGGER WARNINGS : reader has emotionally absent/verbally abusive dad, takes place after the david incident but there's zero mention of it lolz just background for yall, joel is mean and rude tbh, kinda very toxic but im addicted to old toxic men sowwy (plz dont ever let a man treat yall like this irl!!) anyways this is all i can think of, lmk if i missed anything! otherwise pls enjoy!! <3

a/n : wouldn't be a fic written by user girlboybug if the reader didn't have raging daddy issues lolz

there’s creaking at the front patio, the old wood worn down by countless stomps from your boots never failed to act as an alerting system for any trespassers. your heart sinks when you force yourself to get up, the responsibility to inspect the origins of the noise falling on your shoulders alone.

yippie.

your hand finds its hold around the neck of your dad’s shotgun, sock covered feet waiting a pregnant pause at your door, swallowing down the brunt of your nerves thickly. you inch out the door, holding the shotgun as steady as you can, eyes fighting to not fail you by succumbing to the night blur that glazes over your vision.

your sights land on a figure of a man, anxiety hitting you with the heel of its fist into your nervous system once his silhouette becomes clear before you. you pointedly aim at him, praying that the act seems intimidating enough. “you’re trespassin’” you call out, prompting him to raise his hands beside his head, keeping his movements slow and careful as to not give you a reason to shoot.

“just lookin for shelter ma’am,” he replies, his voice feels deep when it hits your ears, not stopping short of rich. “not buyin’ it. now i’m not gonna repeat myself, leave before i blow your goddamn head off,” you shoot your threats in the place of bullets, but your tone gives out on you, giving in to your fear, cracking in on itself mid sentence.

a young girl moves from behind him, her hands also beside her head. “ellie,” he whisper yells, trying to move back in front of her. your hard glare falls into a guilty gaze, and your shotgun falters downward. “thought i told you to stay behind me–” she cuts him off, probably causing a vein on the side of his temple to burst with stress when she moves in front of him to speak.

“we’re just looking for somewhere to stay for the night, and we’ll be out of your hair by morning. we promise.” the now named girl swears, looking at the man that dwarfs her in size for extra confirmation. “promise her joel,” she hushedly instructs and he huffs, looking back at you. “promise.” he adds gruffly.

they look like father and daughter, and you don’t have it in you to turn them away, and despite the possibility that lingers in the back of your mind that this is all a ploy to rob you blind, you settle on the fact that it’s worth the risk to let them in.

your shotgun rests beside you, no longer using it as a shield from the fear of an impending threat. “okay,” you verbally decide, and ellie lets out a sigh of relief, leaning into joel. he holds onto her with a sense of care, of protection, and your heart pangs at the sight as they climb up onto the patio.

your lips drop open unintentionally when the man that now has a name and a face to go along with it, stands before you.

he’s tall, he’s handsome, much older than both you and the girl. “thank you ma’am,” he says, a curt nod from the top of his head, and ellie offers a small smile, joining in his nod. “thank you,” she whispers, and you smile back, moving to the side to let them in.

immediate comfort envelopes the pair, a quiet breath of it being expelled from them, and you close the door behind you, locking it to make sure that the warmth from inside doesn’t morph into the frigid wind outside.

“there anyone else with you?” joel questions, unintendedly sending a worried alert in your mind, your body language showing a visible uncomfortableness at the question.

ellie notices, nudging joel with her elbow. “dude?” she mouths, eyebrows furrowed, silently asking, what the fuck?

you find yourself trusting her more than you do him, which is just enough of an amount to get you to believe he doesn't mean to sound as sketchy as he comes across. “just me and my dad. he’s asleep upstairs,” you respond, and joel looks back at you, pursing his lips, nodding.

“i’ll show you where you guys can sleep, and i can even get you a change of clothes.” you say, flickering between the two of them before turning on your heel. they trail behind you quietly while you lead them to their temporary rooms.

walking up the stairs, and past the stretch of the hallway, you stop at one of the spare rooms, pushing open the door. “there’s this one, and then,” you lean over, pushing open a door to the room just beside it. “this one. up to you guys to decide whoever gets which,” you send them off with a nervous smile, rubbing your palms over your pajama bottoms.

“thank you,” ellie calls out, lowering her voice but keeping it at an octave audible enough for you to hear. you turn back, smiling at the young girl before going into your bedroom. you grab a pair of pajamas for the pair, trying to be quick so as to not keep them waiting.

you return to them, finding them both in the same room, sitting at the side of the bed. ellie’s head is leant against joel’s arm, his stare resting over her. the pang hits you again, but you push past it, gently tapping your knuckles over the door. his stare moves from her to you.

“these are for her, and here’re some of my dad’s old clothes for you. they should fit, but if not you can uh, let me know and i’ll find something else for you.” you set them down beside him, and he nods, a tight lipped inch of a curl over his mouth spreads just slightly, acknowledging your actions.

“these should be fine,” he places a hand over the folded clothes, where your’s was and you find yourself swallowing hard again. his hand is big.

“alright, well goodnight.” you wish kindly, making your way out the door, nodding a polite bidding. “night,” he responds, traces of southerness apparent in his vowels. “thank you,” he makes sure to say before you leave.

for everything he wants to add, but he doesn’t, which is okay, you can hear it through the crickets and the quiet peacefulness that passes through the room.

you leave him with an equally hushed response of no problem, the door closing behind you at the curt ending of your reply.

–

your eyes snap wide open, a low wince falling out at the sting from the rude awakening your body is being subjected to. your name rings as a harsh echo, and you’re quick to your feet, remembering the girl and the man staying in your home, unbeknownst to your dad. “shit,” you groan, hurriedly rushing across the hallway and down the stairs.

and there was your father, loud, angry, and yelling at…joel? if you remembered his name correctly. “who the fuck are these people and why are they tellin’ me you let them in last night?” he all but shouts, and you feel small, humiliated.

“i did, i’m sorry, they don’t mean any harm, they just needed a place to stay for the night.” you answer meekly, and joel’s fists tighten, every fiber of his being wanting nothing more than to plummet his fists into the side of your dad’s jaw.

“lord,” he exhales, shutting his eyes and pinching his nose bridge. he walks towards you, a finger pointed at your face when he speaks.

“if they wanna stay they better make themselves useful, if not, i want them out my goddamn house in 5 minutes.” he snipes irritatedly, eyeing you down with annoyance, making sure you saw the seriousness in his face before he leaves, trudging out the front door. ellie watches with sympathetic eyes as you flinch when he slams the door shut.

it’s quiet for longer than you’d like for it to be, but you’re unsure of what to say after being belittled in front of people who are virtually strangers.

“what a dick,” ellie exhales and joel looks at her, eyes wide, lips tight with chastising ready to be released. “ellie!” he chides and she raises her arms in disgruntled defense. “what? he is!”

you laugh, and they turn to you surprisedly. “yeah, he is. i’m sorry about that.” you sigh, and joel shakes his head. “no, we’re sorry, we didn’t mean to impose and cause you all that trouble.” he apologizes, genuineness in his softened tone, a pane of his thick drawl behind it, and it soothes away the feeling your dad left you with.

“it’s alright, it’s just how he is,” you say, attempting to pacify their concerns, but ellie, blows out a quiet breath, eyes slightly wider when she tilts her head side to side. “massive asshole,” she mutters, and you giggle before joel can chide her once more. she smiles at your laughter, and joel just sighs his 100th sigh.

“you guys can sit, he’ll be gone for most of the day. i can make some breakfast before you have to go?” you offer, motioning towards the dining table, desperate to move past this topic. “mighty gracious of you, but we should get goin,” joel inadvertently rejects your offers, and you frown.

ellie turns to him, a hopeful stare chipping away at his decision. “dude please, there’s only so much chef boyardee i can take.”

you stifle a laugh at her pleading, tying an apron around your waist.

“fine.” he sighs, and ellie whispers a successful yes!

–

as time went by, you grew closer to ellie, but almost as a trade off, it seemed as though joel drifted further and further from you, leaving you with no idea as to why.

you’ve been nothing but kind to him, and the more you tried to do…well, anything, it only pushed him away instead of bringing him in closer.

granted, you did do things that prompt some kind of annoyed response from joel, like right now, as joel stands in the bathroom, his eyes falling to your discarded panties on the ground.

he marches out the bathroom, searching for you. “ellie, where’s the girl?” he asks, and she can hear the irritation building in the base of his voice. “uh, outside, she’s picking some fruit, why?” she queries, turning around from her seated position on the couch to face him.

he strides towards the door, eyes glaring straight ahead. “no reason.” he replies sardonically, and ellie rolls her eyes, flipping back on the couch.

your dad had gone into the next town over to collect more supplies, do some more trading and other various things, but you didn’t care, he’s gone for the time being, and you’re happy, at ease, with more time to look after your garden and spend time leisurely picking at the fruits that hang from the trees above you.

you’re resting on your knees, overalls rolled up to your thighs, bandana covering your hairline, nimble fingers plucking at the strawberries from the array of bushes. the rays of sunlight blanketing over your skin suddenly vanishes, and you turn, hand over your forehead when you look up at joel.

“oh hi joel! strawberry?” you chirp, offering a plump strawberry, and he exhales through his nose, eyes raking over you.

you have a habit of almost never wearing bra’s, and you just about live in overalls and shorts, always accompanied by some tight fitted top.

god, you make his life so hard.

little pink ribbons are tied over the top strap buckles of your overalls, and you look so adorable that it almost makes him angry.

“no, thanks, look, i know it was your bathroom before it was mine, but for the love of god, please stop leavin’ your…undergarments on the floor.” the subtle twang increases just a notch at the way he rattles about your sightly panties.

your face gets hotter than it was from the sun and you drop your arm, looking away embarrassedly. “oh my god how embarrassing, i’m so sorry, i’m just not used to sharing my bathroom, but that’s not an excuse, i’ll take care of them, i’m sorry joel,” voice pretty and soft, just like you, and he sighs, staring at you for a thick standstill, before going back into the house. “messy girl,” he mutters to himself.

he finds his way back into the bathroom, eyeing the suspect in question, feeling the strings in his chest pull in tight. he picks up the pair with a curl of his finger, eyeing it like a foreign object.

he clenches down on his teeth when he stares at it, the pink striped cotton is soft, a little bow adorning the front of it.

he feels dizzy.

he honestly considers pocketing them, but immediate disgust kicks in and he drops them, walking out.

dirty old man.

–

you are inescapable, easily running joel’s patience down into the dirt beneath his boot. your dad is still gone, but joel and ellie listened when he said to be useful.

they help you around the house, almost doin ’more than you, joel would grumble, but no matter how much he busied himself with chores, there was hints of you in everything.

when he’s feeding the chickens or collecting their eggs, he can look not too far out and see the clothesline where you air dry their laundry, not a single thought about letting your bra’s hang from the wire, taunting joel.

he imagines you in it, the racy little red number, nipples perked behind the flimsy material, shoulder’s beckoning to slide the straps down.

“shit,” he grunts, looking down and seeing the smashed egg in his fist, squeezed to pieces from the intensity of his perverse thoughts.

sometimes he thinks you do this shit on purpose, mocking an old man with something you would never give him, and he feels like banging his head into the wall.

and in this moment he feels it’d be an especially good time to do so, exhaling sharply from his flared nostrils while he searches around for you, calling out your name, only to be met with no reply. he can’t find ellie either and he’s panicking, he’s panicking bad.

he shouts your name from the very depths of his stomach, and he pushes every door he sees open until he stops at your bedroom door, pushing inside and growling with anger when he sees you laid upside down in your bed, hands resting on your tummy with thick headphones clamped over your ears.

he stalks towards you, bending down and ripping your headphones straight off your head. your eyes snap open and you jerk upwards from the bed, clambering off the bed in the most unflattering way possible, rushing to get to your feet.

“joel what the hell? what’s going on?” you ask, and he scoffs, mad that you have the audacity to be annoyed here.

“where the fuck is ellie?” he grits out, and you sigh, snatching back your headphones when you answer. “she’s in the stable with my horse, she’s fine joel.” you promise, and he squints his eyes, shaking his head frustratedly.

“y’can’t just send her off somewhere on her own like that and not even think to tell me, and – dammit, don’t wear those goddamned headphones when i’m callin for you, god you are so irresponsible,” he rants, his voice trailing up a ledge of loud anger, and it’s your turn to get mad.

“okay joel, you need to stop fucking yelling at me, she’s still on the damn property, she isn’t gone in the next town over, i’d never put her in a situation where she could get hurt and secondly, you don’t get to talk to me like that and tell me what i can and can’t do in my own house.” you’re in his face now, making an effort to stand up for yourself, but joel isn’t tolerating any of it.

“you listen here little girl and you listen good,” he moves in closer, and you suddenly feel overly aware of his proximity, almost immediately backing down to move away, but no, you wanted to talk back like a big girl, you’re going to face the consequences of one.

“you best lose that nasty fuckin’ attitude of your’s, i don’t care if this is your house or not, it ain’t an excuse to act like a goddamned thoughtless brat.” he’s breathing heavier now, his face too close to your’s, chest dangerously nearing your own.

your eyes nictate back and forth in his, desperately suppressing the tears that imperil at your waterline, biting on your bottom lip to stop it from wobbling. “you’re such an asshole,” is all you can manage to fire back through a weak excuse of a response.

he scoffs at you, stepping back before marching out your room. “no shit sweetheart,” he sneers with a lowered baseline of exasperation.

you fall back on your bed when he’s gone and out of earshot, holding your face in your hands, allowing yourself to let out the tears that almost spilled out in front of joel.

your fists wipe the tears away, angry that they were even there, each stream down your cheek is a reminder of who caused them.

refusing to give in to the pain that gnaws at your chest from his spewing anger, you get up, walking out your room, deciding to make your way around back to the stables.

ellie was saddled over applejack, your only horse, with joel sitting behind her, his arms wrapped around her, keeping her steady, keeping her safe.

the gnawing bites down harder inside your chest, and you’re unable to fight against it. instead you cradle yourself, comforting the ache while leaning against the bulk of the tree behind you, watching them interact.

his gaze over her is so soft, so full of care, of love, and he’s laughing, which enables her laughter, and you find yourself smiling as you watch them despite what had just transpired.

you watch as ellie plops the cowboy hat you had left on applejack’s saddle over his head, and your back gets stiff against the bark of the tree when she does.

he fixes the hat atop his head, and it annoyingly suits him well.

he looks like a proper cowboy.

your eyes drift down to the way his hips roll with each trot from applejack, his back leant naturally, looking relaxed, confident, like he knows what he’s doing, and that he knows he does it well.

his hand runs over the side of applejack lovingly, his strong hand smoothing over her coat, and you feel like crumbling down into the soil of the earth, breathing in a little harder when you imagine those rough, strong hands of his on your skin instead.

you reach up, pulling a peach from the tree above your head, settling down to sit and just watch the two gallop along with applejack.

joel’s eyes find you, they always do, and almost like she just knew, ellie decides to lead applejack back over to where you are. joel’s hands tighten over the reins, jaw clenching when they make their way over to you.

“well hi there sweet girl,” you coo, petting applejack when she bends her neck downward, greeting you happily.

you bite down into your peach, laughing quietly to yourself when the juice spills down your cleavage. joel follows the way the juice rolls down your chest, disappearing behind the pesky coverage of your tank top, and he feels like it's a punishment for his previous yelling.

you hand the rest of the peach into applejack’s mouth, cooing an, aww there you go sweet girl.

“damn these look good.” ellie whistles, reaching up to pluck a peach down.

she drops it, and she groans when it hits the ground. “i got it, don’t worry!” you remedy, turning around to bend down and grab it for her. joel feels like dying when he sees the heart curve of your ass, it’s almost too perfect, and he wonders if this is how his heart finally gives out.

kinda looks like a peach… he thinks to himself, eyes tracing over the form of your ass for as long as he can before you’re turning back to face them.

you go up on your tippy toes, quickly grabbing another peach, handing the new one to ellie and tossing the one that fell over to joel.

“you get that one,” you half tease, half huff, and ellie laughs, waving her clean peach at joel. his eyes settle on you while you talk to ellie, ignoring his presence.

his teeth sinks down into the peach, his stare trickling over the way you’re squeezed into those stupid fucking tiny shorts, and he thinks about a different type of flesh to bite into.

–

nighttime visits your household once more, but it’s anything but peaceful for you and joel.

ellie knocked out as soon as she collapsed in her bed, but joel’s wide awake. he wants to sleep, wants to forget this day even happened, but he can’t. he replays everything despite his efforts to pretend that the events from today didn’t even occur.

however, guilt drags its spindly fingers across the muscle of his heart while flashes of his loud anger directed at you forces itself to be acknowledged behind his eyelids. with a disgruntled huff he rips the blankets off his body, climbing out of bed.

he pushes past the door, making his way to your room to apologize for his harshness.

the closer he gets to your room, the more he hears a concerning sound gently echoing from behind the door. his brows fly up and he grips at your doorknob, turning it. his knuckles tighten over the knob, his body standing still and stiff in the cracked entrance when he sees you.

you’re sprawled in your bed, sheets hanging off you, covering not a single thing, leaving joel to wonder if what he’s looking at is real or not, and if it is, should he even be looking at you like this?

he knows the answer to that, it's a big fat resounding no, but joel doesn’t exactly have the purest morals of all time, so he stays in spite of his conscience telling him to close the door.

he watches your head roll side to side tirelessly, back arching off the bed, bucking your hips into your hand, struggling to pleasure yourself the way you need. your fingers keep sliding off your poor clit, too soaked to keep a good grip on it.

it sounds sticky, even from where joel stands, it’s all so fucking dirty, your sweet little whimpers going straight to his cock, pushing up against his sweatpants that already hang low off his hips.

he palms at himself, trying to alleviate the throbbing ache. his eyes follow the curve of your bare chest, your tight tank top under your chin, pretty tits in the air, hard nipples that are begging to be in joel’s mouth.

you whine to yourself, eyes watering with frustration when your fingers refuse to stay put on your needy clit, trying to instead fill your fluttering hole that clenches around nothing.

joel’s fingernails dig into the doorframe, physically restraining himself from going in there and shoving himself so far into you that it hits your cervix, stretching you nice and open for him.

he thinks about how he’d make you take it, how you’d claw down his back while he fucks you like you deserve.

he feels disgusting, like a goddamn pervert, but he again wins the battle against any morals he has left and stays to watch. you sound so wet its fucking ridiculous, he just wants to lap it all up on his tongue and drink you in.

but what he really wants, is to make you beg, to make you cry.

you further test his will, when his name floats from your trembling lips, his jaw going slack at the unreal moan. his hand falls to his straining cock, squeezing it, silently pleading with you to be good and say it one more time for him, to confirm he heard you right.

and you do, you whimper his name, an airy little, joel, while grinding down on your finger, trying to angle your hips to hit a spot you hardly ever have success in satiating.

good girl, he grits without a sound, his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock.

you think back to him yelling at you, ignoring the pain of the memory, and instead rewriting how the fight ended. your brain conjures up an alternate ending, where he bends you over the foot of your bed, smacking his hand over the fat of your ass before he rams himself inside you.

you think about his back curling over yours, his cock too deep inside you, muttering for you to fuckin’ take it.

he’d have his face in the crook of your neck, his beard would tickle your skin while the dirtiest words you can think of would be listed off in your ear.

his beard, your hips rise in the air desperately, your mind now imagining his stubble between your thighs, how his mustache would brush over your clit until it’s raw. “please, want it joel, want it so bad,” you moan to yourself in a pleading fluttery little voice, and joel almost steps forward at your begging.

i’ll give it you, he promises to himself, wishing he could tell you instead.

he can’t fucking take it, he drinks in the bare sight of you once more, memorizing each curve, the way your voice trembles, the way your legs shake, the plump of your thighs and chest, and fuck, he thinks he’ll pass out before he can even make it back to his room.

he carefully closes the door, striding hurriedly back to his bed. he shuts his door, making an immediate dash to his awaiting mattress.

he pulls the blanket over his hips, tugging down his sweatpants and letting his cock spring up. he uses his precum as lube, too impatient to spit in his hand. he fists at his fat cock, pushing past the roughness from his palm, pretending that it’s your soft hand wrapped around him.

he thinks back to what he just saw, imagining that he did step inside, closing the door behind him before making his way to you.

you’d probably get scared at the sudden sight of him in front of you, but he imagines that you’d be too desperate to care about his actions.

you’d grab his wrist, bringing his hand to your poor little cunt. “touch me, please joel?” you’d plead with those watery eyes of yours, and he would, he’d touch you until you couldn’t take it.

but he’d make you take it, he’d stretch you out on his fingers before he’d get his cock in you. he can only fantasize about how good your tight little cunt would feel all around him, how snug you’d be, gripping him in, but no matter how hard he tries to pretend, he knows his imagination does your pussy no justice to how good it’d actually be.

he starts fucking his hand, head falling back into his pillow, his bicep’s flexing with straint while he goes to squeeze his cockhead, traveling back down to his shaft, struggling to please every inch of himself.

he wonders if you’re a virgin, wonders if anyones gotten to see you like how he did, or did they get to experience it themselves?

he gets jealous at the thought, but he erases it, instead thinking of the possibility of no one ever getting to touch you but him.

yeah, he likes that, he likes thinking about being the first and last cock you’ll ever have deep inside you. shit, he growls, thumbing over his leaking tip, he’s close.

he starts panting, chest falling more rapidly with heavy breaths, his hand working over himself faster now, the slick from his pumping fist around his cock is embarrassingly loud, but he uses it and pretends it’s the sound of him in your pussy, and that does it for him.

he cums in his fist, slowly thrusting into the tunnel of his hand before he releases himself, and he groans, letting his body sink deeper into his bed.

fuckin’ disgustin’ he mutters to himself.

–

he can barely look at you the next morning, he feels hot all over when you so much as walk past him, your scent always trailing behind you and filling his senses.

you smell like the sweetest form of vanilla and it makes him unstable, feeling like he’s gotta hold onto something to remain upright when you’re near him.

you make your own soap, and, of course you make your own fuckin’ soap, he thinks to himself, growing weaker by the second when you talk about how you used vanilla beans in your recipe for soap.

you offer to make some for him, but he declines as politely as he can, finding any excuse to establish some space. he can’t be near you, not now, and not later, he needs time to remind himself what self control is.

he decides to chop some firewood, the nights are getting colder and colder anyways, and he thinks this’ll be a good distraction for him.

he pours all his frustration into it, swinging the axe from behind his shoulder and down into the blocks of wood, chopping them up into logs.

sweat lines his forehead, his biceps bulging from the tight constraints of his rolled up flannel, and you watch from the window, staring at him as he leans back, taking in a few deep breaths while he wipes his forehead before continuing.

you swish your thighs together, walking away when you realize if you don’t move now, you’ll stay the rest of the day just watching him.

after a few hours outside, joel is beat, he thinks he deserves a break. he trudges back inside, sighing when he’s greeted with the fresh air conditioned breeze.

your legs hang off the arm of the couch, head resting on a cushion and buried in a magazine.

he eyes your legs while he walks into the bathroom, almost unable to tear away from them. but when he walks through the door, he closes his eyes immediately once they land on the ground, as if the sight before him physically hurts.

he exhales with aggravation when he sees your white cotton panties on the floor, and your cream lacy bra hanging off the towel rack, mocking him.

he’s had enough.

he stomps out the bathroom, and you brace yourself for the latest lecture when you hear the nearing ruckus of his boots connecting to the wood floors.

he yells your name, his voice curling around the curve of an upward rage. “what joel,” you yell back mockingly, he stands above you, looking furiously down at you.

“what did i tell you about your goddamn panties and bra in the fuckin’ bathroom,” he shouts, jabbing his thumb back towards the bathroom. you huff, swinging your legs from the arm of the couch, rising to your feet. “i’m sorry!” you throw your arms up annoyedly.

“i’ll get ‘em, i understand it’s annoying but joel you don’t need to yell over every. fuckin’. thing, you can talk to me like a normal person,” you contradict your own words, pointing a finger at him while you shout back.

he grabs your finger, pulling your wrist down and away from his face, beaming anger glinting in his eyes.

“thought i told you to get rid of that nasty fuckin’ attitude little girl,” he spits, words hanging in the air like a venomous gas, and you all but growl with irritation.

“i’m not a little girl and you’re not my dad, y’don’t get to talk to me like that you fucking dick,” you bark back, feeling a sudden fear when you see the way he’s looking at you.

his top lip curls with disdain, and he nods slightly to himself, like he’s just mentally made his decision.

he grabs you by your upper arm, dragging you along with him back around to the couch. “let me go,” you try pulling your arm from him, but it does nothing, his grip is stronger than your efforts.

he sits down, pulling you into his lap, grabbing you roughly and repositioning you so your tummy rests over his thighs. “what are you doin–” he holds your jaw, forcing you to crane your neck to face him.

“i’m gettin’ real sick of your fuckin’ back talk, you say you’re not a little girl yet all you do is act like one, a real rude one at that,” he grits in your face, and you feel small, wishing the couch would just swallow you whole.

“i ain’t your dad but you need some serious fuckin’ discipline,” he lets go of your jaw, letting you fall back into the cushion. he unhooks your overalls, pulling them down and under your ass.

he exhales lowly when he sees the hypnotic curve of your ass, clad in baby blue polka dotted underwear, it’s too cute that it makes him sick.

he doesn’t even think when his hand runs over your ass, smoothing over your skin, squeezing the thick flesh in his large palms. you whimper under your breath, squirming in his hold. “stay still,” he orders, his tone cold, riding on a mean line of pointed annoyance.

“you’re gonna say you’re sorry with every one of ‘em, you hear me girl?” he asks, resting his hand on your ass testingly.

you nod quietly, but it isn’t good enough, he’s grabbing your face again, forcing eye contact. “when i ask you a question you answer.” he sneers, teeth baring for a second and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling your clit ache embarrassingly from the harsh treatment.

“i hear you.” you reply meekly, and it suffices, because he’s letting go of your jaw, refocusing on the new task he has at hand, or rather, in his lap.

he rests his palm over one cheek, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, the warmth from his hand tingling your skin.

your clit is right up against his knee, and you want more than anything to rut on it, roll your hips to gain any kind of friction, but you figure you’re in enough trouble as it is so it’s best to hold back these desires.

he raises his hand, slamming it back down and eliciting a loud smack that resonates around the room. you cry out, gripping onto the cushion under you. “i’m sorry,” you whimper out, skin prickling with heat.

he does it again, his heavy hand rising up only to crash back down against the fat of your ass. “i’m sorry,” your voice trembles, your eyes already beginning to water, despite the fact that you’re just barely getting started.

he slaps over your ass, hard. his rough calloused palm emitting an even stronger sting over your soft skin, and you cry out, kicking your legs against the armrest of the couch, feeling the anger increasing with each rough impact from his palm.

“i’m so-orry,” you hiccup, wiping away the tears streaming down your cheeks. he continues with the abuse on your ass, feeling a twinge of guilt at the way you cry but manage to say your apologies with each relentless hit to your bottom one after the other.

“you gonna listen to me when i tell you to do somethin’?” he raises his voice, along with his hand, letting it fall down onto your pounding flesh when you don’t answer fast enough. “yes, yes gonna listen,” you wail, little feet kicking with pain.

“gonna lose that fuckin’ attitude of your’s?” he grunts, smacking your ass hard over where he just hit, watching you howl in anguish, back trying to arch away from the pain.

“yes,” you sob, nodding with earnest.

you’ve lost count of how many it’s been, the only thing that remains consistent is the hot pain that comes in waves over your bruising skin, the welts in the shape of his hand throbbing and aching in never ending flashes.

he rubs over your skin, soothing the soreness away, before he drops his hand against it once more, erasing the little comfort he was giving you.

you’re apologizing through loud wailing, not a care in the world for how embarrassing it is to be sobbing in joel’s lap, because it fucking hurts.

he swats over your ass, fast and rough, letting the sting of it settle into a prickling pain that spreads down to the backs of your thighs.

after a few more hard hits to your ass, he figures you’ve had enough, your crying making him feel a pang of remorse for not taking it easier on you. he runs his hand over your scorched bottom, mending the abused flesh in an attempt to calm you down.

you’re crying, lashes getting slick from your tears, lips growing plump with the loud hiccups of pain. he massages over your ass, gently this time, but your skin feels too raw to enjoy it.

his self restraint is weakening, he can’t stop himself when he tilts his head back, leaning into the couch to look down at your inner thighs. he sees a wet patch spreading over your panties, and he scoffs, bringing two fingers to it.

you gasp, trying to wriggle away from it, but he keeps you still. “interestin’” he half snickers, and you just about die of humiliation.

“reckon you want me to do somethin’ about this?” he murmurs, voice gruffly cascading in the teeming air. he circles over the wet patch, giving you a chance to turn him down, shut down his advances, but you don’t want to.

you bend a little, arching into his touch. “please?’ you whimper, all embarrassment gone from the pain, and he inhales a hefty breath, swallowing thickly.

he slides your panties to the side, drawing his fingers up and down your slick. you shiver, tightening your legs around him.

“can’t believe you’re soaked over that,” he taunts meanly, judgingly, and you whimper, your face getting hot from the base of your throat when he pushes in his middle finger.

“you’re s’mean,” you sniffle and he scoffs at your complaints, pushing his finger in deeper to watch you gasp and shake.

“i showed you what mean is,” he chuckles lowly, leaning down to make sure you hear him. he shifts his hips around, pressing something to your hip, making sure you feel it.

“and this ain’t mean,” he curls his finger right up into that little spot you struggled to reach last night. he starts curling his finger, right there, and suddenly you can’t breathe, you can’t even believe this is happening, but whether it’s real or not you don’t want it to stop.

“more,” you whine, pushing back on his hand with a devout need. his free hand grips at the bruising flesh of your ass, the plumpness of it filling the gaps between his fingers, and you wince, little hands trying to grip at the cushions for comfort.

“you’re a greedy little girl with no fuckin’ manners. do i need to do this all over again just to remind you to say please?” he raises his hand back up over your ass, and you’re shaking your head, turning back at him pleadingly. “n-no, no, i’m so sorry,” you whimper, the backs of your hands covering your stinging bottom feebly.

he laughs at your attempts, but decides he’ll let it slide. he moves your hands away, and pushes his finger back inside, filling you up to the knuckle. you moan deeply, relief at the pleasure entering you once more. the way he fucks you with his finger is all you need to even begin trying to ignore the resounding pain he instilled into your ass.

little pants leave past your lips, your cheek squished against the couch while you try to fuck yourself onto his fingers. “feel’s s’good,” you drool.

he can’t stop the downward spiral he’s letting himself fall into with you, he’s in too deep, and he’s just accepted that he wants to go deeper.

you’re rutting your clit against his knee just how you’ve been wanting to this whole time, and he watches you as a desperate little wet thing in his lap trying to get off with what he’s giving you.

"you know i saw you last night," he whispers in your ear, beard tickling your neck when he leans in real close, his finger picking up speed when he continues.

your face burns hot, and you can't bear to look at him. "oh god," you moan, half from pleasure, half from pure humiliation.

"heard you sayin' my name too, there somethin' you wanna tell me?" he pushes you a little further, watching and waiting to see how you reply.

you're so disoriented, you can't think straight past the embarrassment and the feeling of joel refusing to let up with his finger inside you. he rubs over that perfect spot right there, and it feels so good that it almost kills the shame that burrows itself under your skin.

"n-no? no, i dunno," you whine dumbly, and he rolls his eyes, flicking his wrist harder now, gripping the hand of yours that tries to hold onto him. "you don't know?" he parrots back mockingly.

"you just so happened to be tryin' to finger yourself while moanin' my name? that just a coincidence?" his words jab at your cheeks with taunts and you whimper, hiding your face away from him, still shamelessly grinding down onto him when he works another finger in you, stretching you out.

"i'm sorry," is all you can whimper, you feel stupid with his fingers in you, bullying your poor cunt until it makes that addictive pap pap pap sound. "apologizin' for the wrong thing, should've been sayin' that instead of talkin' back to me," he grunts, letting go of your wrist to smack the side of your ass.

you cry out, shaking in his lap from the slap, the pain echoing over the sore flesh. "i'm sorry," you draw out longly, chest racking with tears mixed with pain and ecstasy.

he pulls his fingers from out your tight hole, and you whine, looking back at him with those pretty, innocently guilty eyes of yours.

"quit your whinin'," he mutters, pulling you upright into his lap. he looks back into your gaze, and it only reminds him of how you're breaking him down into a weak, weak man.

his thumb runs across your bottom lip, dipping into it. "open," he tells you with a softer, hushed sternness. you obey, parting your lips for him.

he spits in your mouth, and you take it like a kiss, carrying the action like a caress. it mixes with your own saliva, ingraining himself in your dna.

he stares at you expectantly, hands lowering down to your ass, squeezing it indignantly, like a warning.

"thank you," you breathe out, feeling drunk on him. he seems pleased, his tight clasp over your ass gets gentler, but it's still firm, still there.

"got a real issue of rememberin' your manners there girl," he tsks, his thumb trailing down your chin, his other hand patting your bottom. "but i'll fix that, fix that right up." he promises, but it feels more like a threat, one that he intends on staying true to.

he lays you flat on your back onto the couch, and you allow him to, letting him do whatever he pleases with you, and he thinks he likes you like this, so sweet and so pliant.

he pulls your legs towards him, he feels hungry, feels impatient, he wants all of you and he wants it all now.

joel hasn't wanted anything in years, because if you don't want anything, you won't be disappointed when you don't get it.

but now he's got you in front of him and he can't take it. he wants you. he's greedy, and he's dirty, but he doesn't care, you've done irreversible damage that he expects will be somehow repaired if he can just get a fix of you, just enough to gratify his bodily needs.

your legs find their way around his hips as if you've done this before, as if his body has been with your's prior to this, connecting like they're supposed to. he slots himself between your thighs, feeling almost overwhelmed to finally have you like this for him.

you want to kiss him, want to hold him, want him him him, and although you've already got him, you still feel like there's more of him to be had.

he unbuckles his belt, the sound urging your legs to tighten around his waist. his eyes drag over you, slowly taking in the vision that's you, as he unbuttons his jeans. he pulls himself out, your gaze dropping down to him, feeling your heart sink immediately.

you never assumed he was small, not that you thought about what was under those jeans, (lies) but shit, this was just obscene. near unnecessary, because how in the hell does he function carrying that…thing around?

he sees your gawking, and an annoying pride fills him to the brim at your visible awe. "is that gonna fit?" you finally ask, and he laughs, pumping himself when he inches closer. "we're about to see aren't we?" he answers, moving your panties to the side.

you get stiff with nerves, holding onto his strong bicep. "joel i-i dunno if it'll fit," you admit, you sound scared, because you are, and he almost feels bad. almost.

"if you don't want this tell me now," he places your panties back, but you're shaking your head, pulling him back in. "no i do, i do, promise," you sound so desperate, so needy, and he's trying so hard to not just fuck you right now.

"just, scared…i never uh..you know." you motion between you two and he swears he nearly punched the air with obnoxious success. "this your first time?" he confirms, and you nod, feeling shy under his stare.

"not like i've been trying to save myself or anything, there's just no one around over here," you explain, not that you needed to, if anything joel is ecstatic with a primal possession that he gets to be your first.

"so you're jumpin' at the first man who gives you some attention? 'specially an old man like me?" he circles the tip of his cock around your clit, and your lips part, hips instinctively lowering down on him. "n-no, i," you don't have any words for him, his actions rendering you silent.

he starts slowly inching in, and your head falls deeper into the cushion behind you, nails crescenting into his forearms. he goes in with no resistance, you're so fucking soaked around him, gripping him in like a warm welcome.

"shit," he shudders, fully sheathing himself inside you. his hand lands beside your head, panting above you, and he looks so beautiful like this. he's so handsome, his eyebrows are in that furrow that they're always in, but this time it's for a different reason.

you look down at where you're connected, and you feel as though you're now one, he's a part of you as you are of him, and you never want him to leave.

you start rolling your hips experimentally, no matter where or how you move, you feel him deep inside, the fat head of his cock hitting there, over and over, and it feels so good, you don't think twice about continuing your little ministrations.

he forcibly pauses your actions, halting your hips down with a rough grip from his hands. he's glaring down at you, uh oh.

"greedy little girl," he grunts, starting to piston his hips inside you. you cry out, leaning forward to find solace in his broad chest, but he pushes you back down, pinning you still. he pauses for a moment, grabbing his belt. "wrists." he orders, and you listen without wasting a second.

he ties your wrists, pushing them above your head before he continues. he's groaning atop of you, fucking you with a purpose, and you take him, entire body bopping upwards with every harsh thrust being fucked into you.

you want to touch him so bad, it feels like torture, you want to put your hands under his flannel, explore the skin that lies underneath, but he's denied you of that privilege. "brat's got such a tight fuckin' pussy," he grunts, impaling you hard onto his cock, stretching you out so good you can't stop yourself from trying to meet his thrusts.

the moans that pour from you are endless, all you do is whimper his name, crying for him and it inflates his ego, but he can't have you being this loud. a hand clamps over your mouth, and you moan behind it, any touch from him is welcomed wholeheartedly.

"quiet down girl," he grits, leaning in close while his thrusts grow harsher. "startin' to think you left your panties for me to find, bet you wanted me to get mad, jus' wanted some attention huh?" he moves his hand away from your mouth, instead using it to grip your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. "speak," he orders.

"n-no, no i just fo-forgot, promise," you swear, words feeling difficult to pronounce and even think of when he's got you stretched out on his cock like this, fucking you dumb.

he doesn't believe you, his hands working around your throat soon after you squeak your response. "no?" he teases, his hands growing tighter around the pane of your neck.

your wrists wiggle around the confinements of the belt, wishing you could hold the hands that have you cradled like a glove.

"f'you just wanted my attention, or just wanted to get fucked," he rests on his haunches, pulling you with him, letting you slip down further onto his cock, the corners of his lips curling when you cry out. "then just fuckin' ask, don't need to be pullin' stunts like that,"

his hands around your throat feel loving, they feel safe, and perfectly fitted around you, like his hands were made for this. the lack of air feels right, feels like this is what you needed, and you want more.

tears well at your pretty eyes, rolling down your cheeks while you grip at the buckle on his belt, his cock moving so deep inside that you feel him in the base of your tummy.

he releases your throat, and you gasp for the air you didn't even realize was depleting. he pulls the belt loose, and you immediately go to his arms, running over them. squeezing at the muscles, feeling impressed with how they flex under your touch.

your hands travel up to his face, his beard tickling your palms. "feels sososo good joel, never felt like this," you slur, eyes falling shut at the pleasure. "yeah? this all it took for you to fuckin' behave?" he groans, your hands running across his wide back, trying to feel him, feel the muscles that you've only ever gotten to steal glances at.

he's letting you fall backward again, hovering close to your level, his cock filling you to the hilt, and then some, and you want to tell him how full you feel, how good it feels to have so much of him in you, but the words are lost on you, there are no thoughts left to be had, just pure physical manifestations of what he's doing to you.

"kiss me, please?" you beg, and he doesn't argue, doesn't mock you or tease, but connects your lips, kissing you hard. you moan into his mouth, calf resting on his lower back while he pushes in and out of you. his beard brushes around your chin, your nails gently scratching at the back of his head, eliciting his turn to moan in your mouth.

he kisses you like he fucks you, rough. it's rushed, messy, wet, but there's power in the way he does both, making you feel hazy, dizzy, and overfilled with rapture all at once.

every push, and every shove into the couch is registered as soft, gentle caresses, loving affection, so graciously given to you by the rough hands belonging to joel and you take it all in stride, left wanting more, craving more roughness that just feels like love instead.

his face falls to the warmth of your neck, nipping, biting down onto your shoulder when he buries himself further than you even knew possible, inside of you. your mouth parts, a string of whiny moans leaving past them when he grinds into you, bucking your hips to meet his.

"finally bein' so obedient, should've just gave in an' did this sooner," he grunts into your skin, hands holding you down by your hips. his fingers find your clit, rubbing over the sensitive nerves just like how you did last night, and you choke on a moan, tangling your fingers in his salt and peppered hair.

"so good, feels so good, thank you daddy," you cry like a prayer into his neck, and he sends an especially hard thrust into your cunt, knocking the air out of you. you feel frozen in horror when you realize what's just come out your mouth.

"that's real nasty y'know that right?" the sick curl in the corner of his mouth contradicts the shame he throws at you, and the way his cock twitches inside you acts as further proof that there's no truth in his mocking.

you cover your face in his shoulder, but no, he wants you to look at him when he fucks you, he wants to see the way those pretty lips of yours mold around the word that rightfully belongs to him.

"don't get shy now," he huffs, holding your jaw, head falling back when he feels you clench down around him. his hands fall back to where they belong, wrapped snug around your throat.

he watches the way your eyes roll back, bottom lip being sucked in while you try fucking yourself onto him. "dirty fuckin' girl," he grits, squeezing you while your fingers curl over his, intertwining with him. "s'all right, i can be your daddy," he grunts, pushing in and feeling you squeeze him when he lays his promises to you.

you force your eyes open, gazing at him hazily while he pounds into you. he brings his hips down to yours relentlessly, no mercy in the way he fucks you. he's growing messy, falling out of tune when he slows down, shoving himself all the way in you, letting the sensation of the way you wrap around him be appreciated like it's supposed to be.

"my fuckin' cunt, you hear me? repeat." he releases your throat, and you gasp, sputtering while you nod. "yes, s'all yours," you hiccup, watery eyes making out a blurry joel in front of you. he presses his hand to your lower stomach, groaning to himself when he can feel his own cock piston in and out of you.

he lessens the speed in his thrusts, slowing to watch his cock fill you up. you squirm at the extra pressure, pawing at his wrists. "so much, it's so much daddy," you whine, and he grunts, feeling pride at the way he's got you so fucked out. "take it," is all he says, sounding gruff and strained.

"can i cum please? promise m'gonna be so good for you daddy, gonna listen an' everything," you cry, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips, pulling him in deeper. he grits his teeth, chest getting tight at your pleads.

"really think you deserve it?" he grunts and you nod, gripping onto his shoulders. "yes, please, i promise, promise m'gonna be good, please please," he concedes to your begging, bringing his fingers to your clit.

you gasp, panting in all the air that'll fit in your lungs when it all hits you. your skin is tinged with heat, legs trembling on either side of joel's waist when you feel the tides start to ripple closer to you until it crashes, pulling you into the ocean and you're drowning. drowning in joel.

"thank you daddy, thank you s'much, so good," you muffedly sob, face in the crook of his shoulder while he fucks you through your orgasm, fingers running over your clit, winding you up just to watch you fall apart.

"fuck, squeezing me so hard," he laughs breathlessly, slipping into a heavy moan at the way you're clamping down on him. "so good baby, take what you need, that's my girl," he groans, holding your waist down, fucking you with a rushed need. the backs of your thighs rest over him, and you feel weak, but fulfilled, watching adoringly as he uses your body to cum. bursts of pleasure still erupting inside you at the way he fucks you.

my girl

you whimper at the fleeting affections, unknowingly clenching harder around him.

"shit, shit, gonna fuckin' cum, gonna fill this pussy up, greedy little cunt can't get enough," he groans, head falling forward while his orgasm envelopes him, the slick from your mixed arousal loud while he gasps, grunting with a few harsh thrusts. he pushes into you with finality, cumming deep inside you.

he slowly pulls out, and it stings, you're wincing, feeling bare and cold.

he pulls your panties back over you, eyeing the way his cum pools against the material, and he feels good, feels like he's permanently marked you as his. he tucks himself back into his jeans, catching his breath before he turns his attention back to you.

he dresses your limp body back into your overalls, his hands now ginger and gentle over your skin, touching you like you've suddenly become glass. he sits at the end of the couch, pulling you into his lap.

he's careful when he sits you down, aware that your ass still probably hurts. he lets you curl into his side, the last bit of trembling slowly leaving your body from what just happened. his palm runs up and down your back, feeling content at the way you rest on his chest. "feel okay?" he asks quietly, and you hum a sleepy yes.

your hand rests on his chest, toying with the buttons. "you've always been a sweet girl," he says, feeling like he needs to clarify that, and you smile against his chest, feeling relief and giddiness at his admittance. "a messy one but, sweet nonetheless," he pats your back and you shoot him a joking glare.

he holds you closer by tucking his hand under your thighs, cradling you into him. he kisses your temple, the first gentle action of the day. he tells himself he'll indulge in that more when he sees the smile that spreads across your cheeks.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel and ellie #tv tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #songfic

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kojitheopossum · 1 month

Note

this is about the siren’s song au

Theory: siren’s have some sort of obvious sexually dimorphism traits. You mentioned that sirens are highly territorial, so I think it would make sense for the species to develop some sort of sexual dimorphism to help differentiate between siren-that-is-trying-to-kill-me and siren-that-is-trying-to-mate-with-me. The two options that come to mind are different coloring (like cardinals) or a size different (like angler fish). There could also be some sort of different fin pattern maybe?

Alternative option is that they do the thing salmon do during mating seasons and look completely different.

Second Theory: the temperature of the water a siren is living in, especially or exclusively during childhood, affects their coloring. This may be a fact that I missed/was heavily implied tbh. I know Eeltho cannonically lived in deeper and colder waters than most sirens, and is also paler than most sirens, so it would make sense that warmer water temperatures create darker coloring/markings in the skin of sirens.

for ur first theory, I'd definitely agree there's some elements of sexual dimorphism. Coloring, while interesting, probably wouldn't work because of how varied the colors they come in, I also absolutely love the angler fish comparison. I will say that female sirens fins tend to be much longer while the males have basic stretched oval shaped fins. They also mimick the human sexual dimorphism trait of chest size. The salmon idea is also rlly interesting but siren don't die after mating (unless killed by partner lmao). I know the fish changing shape doesn't directly kill it, but it still feels too much like an "end stage." The main conclusion I've come to regarding the issues of telling whether another siren wants to fuck or fight is a combination of body language and the hormones released into the water by both siren during mating season which draw the two together.

For your second theory, yes that's 100% true!! While siren can dive very deep, they'll spend time at the surface too. Etho, however, did not get much sunlight at all. The warmer the water the more vibrant the siren will be, however the coloring is first and foremost determined by their surroundings, many deep sea fish are red because it absorbed so much light, similar to etho. Sirens in the artic while often be darker and grayscale to match the surroundings. Siren who frequent the open ocean might be deep blue and green tones. Siren who spend time in reefs will match the coral backdrop etc etc.

#asks #siren’s song au

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shybunnie20 · 11 months

Text

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache.

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.”

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times.

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is.

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

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