luxthestrange · 4 months ago
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G.I Incorrect Quotes#113 Dad no-
They Were roommates au...You might have forgotten to tell your adoptive father you have been...somewhat "married" with your roommates while raising a baby diety and a mysterious...baby with Inazuma features who you theorize isn't...human like Nahida for over a year now...you kinda forgot-
Y/n: When you see them, please don’t freak out, ok?...
Cyrus: To think you think so lowly of me, I’m not going to freak out! Whoever you’re dating, I’ll accept them
Y/n: Ok... You can come in
Alhaitham & Kaveh enters the room Nahida and Kuni are with your go to babysitters Dehya and Dunyarzad
Cyrus:  Alhaitham, Kaveh get out of the way, I am about to see who y/n is dating
Y/n*Facepalms*...
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Part 5 of:
...ok from a teacher's pov Cyrus loves Alhaitham and Kaveh, and he holds them in a very high light...AS A FATHER POV ALHAITHAM IS A MAN WHO IS A KNOW-IT-ALL AND HAS HORRID EMOTIONAL TALKS-...AND KAVEH IS FIRECRACKER,INDEBT DRUNKARD-...that's why he never connected the dots
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goosologist · 5 months ago
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they have an exam in two days but they keep making out about it
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honestlydarkprincess · 3 months ago
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Them: you realize you've already written this trope countless times...
Me:
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hot-pota-toes · 6 months ago
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"And they were roommates" (teaser)
Eddie Munson x Onlyfans Reader
MDN1 18+
WC: 700
Summary: Eddie's crush on his roommate is constantly weighing him down to the point that he's desperate to find any content that reminds him of her so he can jerk off and go to sleep. Imagine his surprise when he finds a video of you, legs spread as you touch yourself proudly on camera
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Eddie shouldn't be doing this.
Eddie knows he shouldn't be doing this.
It was an accident, a complete accident. Eddie has been secretly crushing on his roommate for a few months now but hasn't done or said anything about it yet. You weren't trying to kill him, you'd just come into the kitchen to grab a snack wearing a baggy T-shirt and some torturously small sleep shorts. You weren't even doing anything intentionally sexual to set him off, but it was enough to make Eddie excuse himself to bed early to get rid of his growing hard on.
He had touched himself to the thought of you, multiple times actually. But this was the first time he was looking up someone like you to help fuel his imagination. He was looking up your hair color, your body type stuff like that into his porn searches but wasn't actually expecting to find you. He must've been seeing things there was no way that it was actually you. The thumbnail had you in nothing but your bra, legs spread, hand in between your thighs as you touched yourself, proudly smiling into the camera.
Holy shit, He tapped on the video to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He couldn't help it. He didn't even bother loosening his jeans before shoving his hand into his underwear. The woman that he's been pining after for months is right there, on his phone screen, getting herself off in her room. Her room. Which shared a wall to his room in their cramped apartment. Eddie has had heart eyes for you the second you moved in. His friends knew about this, saying that his crush on you was painfully obvious. He just hoped that it wasn't obvious to you.
He actually struggled to speak to you for the first few days, until you and some mutual friends all went out for dinner. Steve eventually pulled him aside and threatened to embarrass him in front of you, as a way of forcing his confidence. It didn't take long to break the ice, discovering that you both had a lot of similar interests. Now, both you and Eddie feel safe to call each other pretty close friends. Watching horror movies together on the couch, smoking weed together while blasting music. You had even gone to see a few of his shows at the hideout when you weren't busy.
For now, Eddie continued pumping his leaking cock, trying to match your pacing to you through the screen of his phone. He's almost hypnotized watching your fingers disappear inside yourself wishing that it was his instead making you feel so good. He can see how wet you are from the glistening on your fingers when you pull them out, And the wet sounds it makes when you put your fingers back in. Fucking hell. The regret will sit heavy on Eddie's chest tonight, but all he can think about is how sweet you look whilst you continue sliding your fingers through your folds, whimpering softly against the pillow, trying to stay quiet. If only Eddie could be there, on his knees with his tongue between your legs whilst you slide your fingers into his curls. You probably tasted so sweet.
Eddie cums in his pants with a soft whimper. It was uncomfortable and desperate, the worst kind of dampness. He instantly cursed himself for not removing any of his clothing before wrapping his fist around his cock. In his defense, his discovery was sudden and exciting, and Eddie didn't even think about locking his bedroom door, let alone preparing himself properly. As the video continues playing he starts scrolling through your channel and is surprised not just by the amount of videos you've posted. But the views, the likes, the comments, there were just so many. Not just on this one but all of them.
You'd never really told Eddie what you do for a living, it never really came up in conversation. He only knew that you work from home, which technically isn't a lie. But this is never what he would've guessed what you meant. The video eventually ended, fading to black with some white text appearing. Eddie enlarged the video again to read it. ‘Hey Guys!!! Thank You So Much For Watching! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) To see more of me Check Out My OnlyFans!!! Link Here!’
He was fucked
A/N: this is just a little taste of the first chapter of this fic ;) rn the word count just hit 7k but didnt want to post something unfinished. I'm touching up the ending and don't know how long it will take me to complete it. Hope you enjoyed this little teaser 😋
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exis-j-harvey · 23 days ago
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Sketches from the last chapter of "And They Were Roommates" , fanfic by @dreadpirateurania13, thanks for your service 🫡💞
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dasketcherz · 7 days ago
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omg they did the wicked thing ! !
just finished reading til the latest chapter of And They Were Roommates by @dreadpirateurania13
gosh i have so much to say about this fic, first off the world building was so much fun to learn about. i didnt grew up an ever after high gurly so i dunno which things are straight from the source material and which are a personal spin but regardless, it was pretty stellar mix of both things !
i am so happy the whole gang is here, it's always a treat to see all of them present in the story on a fic ! and the evolution of varigo's relationship here was hella fun to witness shift over the course of the story, they are so elphaba and glinda coded in the best of ways. I especially love how well set up their clashing beliefs and convictions were, being interwoven to the system they are forced to participate in and watch them develop an ounce of understanding for the other's opinions eventually. also love how natural it felt seeing hugo slowly get dragged involved in varian's circle of friends the way that he did !
and the way vat7k core elements (like varian decoding ulla's research) was slowly implemented into the lore as the plot thickens was so seamlessly done i loved it so much like oughh i ate that up !
overall i enjoyed this fun fic a lot and i am eagerly waiting for the True Hearts Day chapter ! [hyperventilating]
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xxxanteaterxxx · 4 months ago
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Roommates AU
roommate!remuslupin x fem!reader
CW: swearing, thats about it really.
lemme know what you thinkkkkk part 2
this is totally inspired by @moonstruckme btw
"So, do you have anything specific that you're looking for mate?" James asked, staring down out his laptop. Remus sighed; he had been looking for an apartment for weeks, but nothing had turned up in the area he was interested in.
"Honestly, anywhere would work at this point." Remus was looking at his own laptop, scrolling through all of the postings he could find. Nothing was available through, and Remus was about to be homeless.
He couldn't afford to keep living in his current flat, not since his roommate had decided to move back home. Remus had been stressing over this for months now, ever since his roommate had told him the news.
"How do you feel about a roommate bud?" Sirius asked suddenly, sitting up from where he had been laying down and scrolling on his phone. He stretched his arm out towards Remus, waving his phone around.
Remus snatched it and took a look at the posting Sirius was looking at.
"Two bedroom and one bath apartment. Looking for a roommate ASAP. Rent is $500 a month (utilities included). Message me for more information. :)"
There were pictures underneath the post. Remus clicked on the first one. It looked nice enough to him. He forwarded the post to himself before he messaged about it.
"I'm gonna send a message, see if I can schedule a walk through." Remus sighed as he tossed the phone back to Sirius, who seemed highly impressed at his find. He picked up his own phone and found the post.
He clicked the message icon at the bottom of the post.
`Hey, I saw your post about looking for a roommate. Is the room still available? Could I maybe come by for a tour soon? `
He sent the message before setting his phone to the side and continuing the search. Not expecting to receive a response for a while.
Not even two minutes later his phone buzzed. He grabbed it and sat up when he saw the response.
`Would today work? Maybe around 12? `
Remus was quick to respond.
`Yes, 12 works great!`
Then he followed it up with another.
`Can I bring some friends?`
The reply came just as fast.
'Yes, I'll see you then!'
Remus stood up, a large smile growing on his face. To say he was relieved was the understatement of the year. He looked at his friends.
"I've got a tour scheduled at 12 today, you guys wanna come?" He questioned. He really hoped they would, what if you were a serial killer and the post was only a ploy to draw unsuspecting victims in.
"Course mate! Its 10 now, what if we head out and find some food around that area?" James asked, causing Sirius to jump up quickly.
"Let me grab my shoes!" He called as he raced down the hall to his room. Remus shook his head and gathered his belongings.
It was right around 12 when there was a knock at your apartment door. Abandoning the cookies you were making, you raced over to the door. You had almost made it too, but the fuzzy socks adorning your feet caused you to fall.
You groaned as you pushed yourself up and yanked the door open with a large smile on your face. It dropped slightly when you realized that it was men on the other side.
"Hi! I'm Remus, we're uh here for the apartment tour?" There were three guys standing outside. The tallest of them was the one who had spoken. You nodded and opened the door wider for them to enter.
"I'm Y/N! I'm sorry about the mess..." You gestured around the living room. "It's my day off and I've been bingeing some shows." You kept a smile on your face as one of the other boys chuckled.
"So, let's get on with the tour!" You clapped your hands together. "I'll show you around and then let you guys look around by yourselves, yeah?" Receiving nods, you turned around and began the speech you had practiced in the mirror when you and received the message.
"Obviously this is the living room..." You mumbled and then walked towards the kitchen. Before entering you turned around. "Warning, I'm making cookies right now, so the kitchen is a bit of a mess."
You entered and they filed in after you, looking around and nodding to themselves. "Cookies anyone?" You asked as you grabbed the plate of the ones that were ready. They each reached out and grabbed one.
"These are amazing." You heard someone moan.
Moving on you began to lead them upstairs. "Right there is the bathroom and right here is my room and right here is the other room!" You said walking quickly down the hall and pointing things out as you did so. You turned around to face the three. "Any questions?"
No one answered and so you nodded. "Smashing, have a look around. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me!" And with that, you were darting back downstairs just as the alarm for your second round of cookies beeped.
Sirius was staring after you like you were the love of his life. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. James cleared his throat while looking at his best friend and roommate in amusement. Sirius shook his head and turned to look at Remus.
"Well, if you don't want to live here, I sure fucking do." He said before he walked past Remus and into the room you had said was the available one.
It was a nice sized bedroom with a window and a very large closet. Remus was quite impressed with it actually and you seemed nice enough.
He could definitely see himself living here, even if it was with a total stranger. He walked back out into the hall, heading for the bathroom to have a look in there.
You seemed pretty neat; all of your stuff was kept on a shelf and in a couple of drawers. Remus noticed how big the bathtub was, and he sighed at the thought of a nice bath.
As he walked further down the hall, he realized that your door was open, and he had to fight the urge to take a look around. He turned to walk back to the room that would be his so that he could ask James what he thought but his two friends were gone.
He listened for a second as he heard talking coming from downstairs. He turned and made his way towards the stairs. As he made it down and saw that no one was in the living room, he headed for the kitchen next. There he saw James and Sirius sat at the table while you danced around the kitchen cleaning things up.
"These are delicious, by the way." James spoke after chewing what looked to be one of the cookies you had made. You turned from the sink to grin at him. When you saw Remus, you smiled and wiped your hands on the towel thrown over your shoulder.
"So, what did you think?" You smiled at him this time, your question had alerted the other two to his presence. Sirius answered before Remus himself could.
"Well, if he doesn't want it, I fucking do!" He spoke loudly causing James to look at him.
"And what about our fucking apartment?" James asked incredulously, looking at his friend as if he had just stabbed him. You paid them no mind as you looked at Remus for an answer.
"I'll take it. When's the soonest I can move in?" Your shoulders sagging in relief at his answer.
"Oh, thank fuck, no one else has responded and the last chap I had look around gave me the Heeby jeebies." You paused, blowing a strand of hair from your face as you thought about it. "How about as soon as bloody possible eh? That work for you?"
Remus nodded and a brilliant smile formed on your face.
"Great, let me fetch the lease agreement."
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hairmetal666 · 2 years ago
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By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.
She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.
"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.
"Steve Harrington."
"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"
"Oh, er--just me, actually."
Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"
Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."
So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.
Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.
"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"
Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"
Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"
"Little bit," Steve smiles.
"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.
"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."
"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.
After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.
---
Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.
He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.
"You alright, man?" Steve asks.
Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.
"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."
His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."
He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"
He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.
"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.
Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.
---
It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.
He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.
Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.
He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.
Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.
"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.
"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.
"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."
Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.
He is so weird.
---
In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.
Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.
Flirting with her is easy.
He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.
It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"
Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.
It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.
"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.
He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.
Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.
---
They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.
They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.
Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.
Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.
A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.
Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.
Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.
He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.
He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.
---
When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.
"Eddie?" Steve asks.
"Have you seen my notebook?"
"What?" Steve's heart drops.
"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"
"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.
"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.
Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.
"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.
They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.
"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.
Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."
"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.
The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.
Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.
"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.
"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."
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rottenaero · 1 year ago
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Ao3
Part 1
Part 3
Part two to the roommates idea
Whenever the mall ‘burns down’, Eddie is just chilling at home; not doing anything special.
Actually, thats a complete lie. He hadn't seen Steve since he left for his shift the day before, and currently has his band+Wayne scattered in the living room as he paces.
“He may as well be dead, he always calls before staying the night somewhere, and he totally despises that place, so why would he stay after hours?” He comes to a halt infront of Jeff who looks considering. “What?!"
“Maybe, consider, he just forgot to call you." Eddie scoffed, “ ‘Maybe he just forgot’, except you don't know him, Jeff. Steve doesn't forget, tell ‘em Wayne."
Wayne nods from his spot on the lazyboy, “ ‘S true, he'd rather call at 2am than have us worrying.”
Gareth rolls his eyes, “Look Edmund, I get your worried about you boyfriend and all but why did we have to get dragged into this?" He complained, and Eddie began pacing again.
“ Not,my boyfriend, yet, and you’re getting-”
A ringing interrupts him.
The pacing stopped almost as soon as it began, and he darts to the phone. “ Y’hello, it's Eddie talking.” A sharp breath drew from the other end of the line.
“Hey Eds."
Eddie smiled, “Holy shit, Stevie. I thought you died. Wayne and the guys are literally gathered in the living room.” Upon hearing the name, Wayne visibly relaxed, going from hunched over to leaning backwards in seconds.
“Yeah I'm- Well shit not okay but I'm not dead.”In the background there was a noise, barely noticeable but-
“Wait, what? Are those sirens? Are you hurt? What the hell-” Wayne leaned forward again.
“I'm at the mall, there's been, uh, an accident? I don't- they took my keys, I need a ride back home.”
“Who took your keys? Steve you can't just be all ominous and-” The phone line shut off. "Fuck!”
Grant, who hasn't been helpful at all, stood up. "What did he do?”
Eddie groans, running a hand through his greasy hair, “Needs us to pick him up, might be hurt. He's such a- Wayne we're taking my van, you guys coming?”
Turns out the answer is yes.
-
They arrive at the mall five minutes later, mostly because Eddie was driving like a bat outta hell, to every emergency vehicle you can think of, plus thirty more, surrounding the place.
Eddie roles his window down when a cop signals him. “What are you doing over here?"
The metalhead bites his lip, what the hell, “Uh, I'm here to pick up Steve Harrington? He got involved in whatever's happening.”
The cops nods, "Alright, park your vehicle over there, and go get him.”
He does as he's told, a surprising feat showing just how scared he was, because Steve being hurt could mean so many things.
They get out the car, Wayne being the leading man, and head to where the commotion is.
The mall was totally destroyed, a couple kids he didn't know were sitting around, surrounded by their parents, there's a couple teens too, Nancy Wheeler, Johnny Byers, a girl in a sailor costume, and-
Eddie’s heart stopped and he fucking sped forward. “ Holy shit, what the fuck man." Steve looked like hell, understatement of the century but-
His face was bruised and bloody, his hands wrapped in casts, his hair was flat and gross and he was still in his damn sailor costume.
“Hey Munsons, Gareth, Jeff, Grant. It's the whole Scooby gang, or Smurfs, whoever you prefer.” Eddie grabbed his shoulders, and stared him dead in the eye. “ What. The. Fuck. Are you high too?!”
“Just what the hell did you get yourself into. " Wayne said more than asked, shaking his head.
Steve buzzed his lips, his eyebrows furrowed and he brought a hand to them and-
God they were split, and bleeding now. He looked back up at the long haired man infront of him, ignoring Wayne's question-not-question.
“Nah, just recovering from being drugged. Hey this is rivveting conversation and shit, but like, I wanna go home and sleep in your bed, man. Or the couch, or the floor.”
He let out a loud laugh, “Fuck I am not picky right now, I'll even take the back of the van.”
“Christ."
-
They don't talk about it, not after Hellfire goes home, not the next morning, not after Steve heals. They just don't, because the news told them all they need to know, that there was a fire. Eddie just assumed when they said he was drugged, that he meant medically.
(He didn't)
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luxthestrange · 8 months ago
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G.I Incorrect Quotes#90 THERE'S TWO-
They were roommates + Baby Archon au...They multiply-
You and Kaveh were strolling around Port Ormos
Y/n: I just think that in a parallel universe, blorgons are- hold on-
Baby!Kunikuzushi*Was left in a basket in the sea, crying his tiny heart out as he wiggled trying to get outta the blanket*
Y/n*Grabs the basket* a baby...I wasn't expecting this
Kaveh:...Guess we'll have to support it
Y/n: I guess I could do another kind of job, maybe at beans & more and more, I'll probably have to work double shifts, but-
Kaveh: Oh, I see, While you're off, climbing the ladder at Beans & More, I'll just stay home and raise him and Nahida alone!!! That's fine. I'll just give up on my dreams!?!
Y/n: Here we go...
Kaveh*Tears up and sniffles with a pouty face* What? He needs to learn a strong man can cry!?!
Baby!Kuni*Blinks seeing a big man crying*...
-Back at Home-
Alhaitham*Currently with Nahida on his lap reading her a book of string theory, smiling seeing her slapping his hand if he tries to turn the page before she is done*
The door is kicked open and you coming in holding...a baby up in the sky with Kaveh throwing petals around you
Y/n: GUESS WHO BECAME A BIG SIIIIISTER!?~...like we pratice lil one~
Baby!Kuni*Sucking on his thumb, but then he raises his arms up with a smug war cry*GAAAAAAAH!
Nahida*Gasps happily seeing at that*!!!
Alhaitham:..PLEASE DO NOT TELL ME YOU TWO KIDNAPPED A KID AGAIN-
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Part 3 of:
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the-californicationist · 4 months ago
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Let's get you to 100, new gif addition and prompt ask!
Reader likes being controlled, even as she chafes against it, but there's only 1 person she wants to have that privilege.
You decide who, have fun writing lovely 😏
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heyyy!! im backkkkkkk 😘 sorry for the wait! had to go on a bit of a hiatus, so thanks for being patient. and thank you so much for the ask!! sexy as hell babes omg. hope you like it. i went a little overboard on the word count sorry 🫣
TW: light bdsm and contol themes, rough sex
Soft Reins
His voice followed you down the wet sidewalk as you made your escape, striding in long reaching steps to put more distance between yourself and your apartment. 
“C’mon, bonnie! Ye cannae walk in this shite. It’s pissin’ down. Bonnie!”
You waved and smiled up at Soap as he hung over the balcony of your shared space, a deep frown pasted across his mouth as he tried to dodge the raindrops. 
Living with the boys, as you lovingly called them, was full of challenges. For one, they seemed to be oblivious to deep cleaning of any kind, and if you didn’t have the primary school style chore chart hanging on the fridge, your whole house would descend into chaos. The only exception was their captain, and his standards were thankfully on par with your own. 
But, even worse, they were nosey. They seemed to love to be in your business, always making excuses to join you on nights out, standing in an all-too-intimidating pack when you brought home dates from said outings. Even Price was not above casually bullying an unsuspecting potential someone. It was enough to drive a girl mad.
You never got a call back. Any bloke brave enough to follow you back to your place, flanked by your surly entourage, was only as courageous as he needed to be to get his dick wet. After that, he’d ghost you. There were plenty of eligible partners who had much less intimidating roommates. 
In the past year, the longest relationship you had was with a man who didn’t make it over to your house for nearly four months. You had gone through all sorts of trouble to keep the boys from finding out about him, and you guarded his address like it was the nuclear launch codes. You thought you were in the clear when the team had to leave for another deployment, but one morning — when you were wearing only your boyfriend’s tee shirt — they decided to come tromping back in, totally unannounced. 
It was all over, then. Back to the drawing board. 
Gaz was the worst offender by far. Once, when you had planned a spa date for yourself, you’d been treated to all sorts of services that you didn’t order. The staff kept insisting that it was complimentary, but you knew in your heart that it wasn’t. By the end of the visit, you were left fretting about the bill. But, when you walked up to the counter, you discovered that it had already been paid. 
 “Oh! Your mister called it in. Already paid.” The clerk’s smile was blinding in only the way a clerk’s smile could be.
“And who is the mister?” You smiled to yourself, not with much joy, shoving your credit card back into your wallet.
“Well, he said he was your mister. A Mr. Garrick?”
Of course. 
You had only to turn around to see his shining red Beamer revved and waiting to take you to lunch. Gaz’s sunglasses gleamed in the daylight as he grinned down at you, standing over his car, his elbows resting on the roof, smug as could be.
You met him in the parking lot, bags and bags of essential oils and spa creams, heavy in your hands.
“Kyle,” you said curtly, “What did you do?”
“Nothin’, babes. Get in. We’ve got a table at that sushi joint you like.”
You complained that Gaz was overstepping. You moaned about Soap being heavy-handed. You lost your temper when you found the fourteenth Air Tag that Ghost had sewn into the bottom of your trainers. It was too much. You hated feeling trapped, and you thrived in your independence. But, living with these men meant that your desire for freedom was directly at odds with their desire for control. 
It wasn’t their fault, really. That was who they were. They were good at their high-profile special operation world-saving careers because they were good at control. It was what made them great soldiers. 
But, one of them was far better at it than the others. 
Captain John Price didn’t follow you down the street. He didn’t chase you in his shadowy, blacked-out Evija. And he certainly didn’t need to hide trackers in your clothes. No; his control was insidious. It made your blood boil, and it had you questioning your every move. He had a way of making you think that what he wanted was what you wanted, and when you ultimately discovered his plans, you could only blame yourself. Price was the king of control, but that wasn’t the worst part. 
The worst part was that you liked it. 
You hadn’t been home for the holidays in years. Ever since lockdown, and your huge workload at your office, you just couldn’t find the time to make it back. International flights were hard to plan, expensive, and it seemed like something always came up. When you mentioned it off-handedly to Price, he’d comforted you, 
“Tha’s alright, sweetheart. I’m sure you’ll find the time this year.”
That was in June. By December, your boss had mysteriously found out that you had a full week of extra paid time off that you needed to take, and your credit card called you to let you know that your airline mileage points had doubled. It was as if everything in the universe had aligned so that you could make it back to your family. 
You’d told the boys over dinner one night, and they celebrated with you, happy for you to be able to finally live your dream. Then, Price had grabbed your phone, reading the email and going over the fine print. 
It grated on you, but you needed to learn how to pick your battles in this house. So, you waited for his approval, tight-lipped. 
“Double miles… ah, there’s a catch,” his voice rumbled in his chest, low and even. 
“What catch?” You panicked. Nothing could upset this perfect balance you’d achieved.
He pointed down to the conditions, and you read it for yourself as he told you,
“Says here they granted double miles for two tickets purchased.”
“Two? Who the fuck am I going to get to come to Saskatoon in December?” You sighed, head in your hands, trying to figure out how you were going to make it work.
“Well, the boys are heading up to check on MacTavish’s mum, but Kate’s got me on a leash. I can ask her to make me remote on this project, if you want.”
His tone wasn’t sly. It didn’t sound like he was hiding something. If anything, he sounded earnest, and it was such a kind gesture of friendship that he would be willing to join you in order to help you see your folks. 
But, that’s what wormed its way under your skin. You knew it was him. You just couldn’t prove it. Months of God knows what kind of backdoor, black-market dealing and manipulation, all orchestrated just to…
Just to what? Make you happy?
Inwardly, you struggled against your bindings, the invisible ropes he’d so carefully weaved just to have you come to him of your own free will, bent on your hands and knees, obedient and eager for your reward.
“Jonathan…” You started to resist, to rebel. Every time you started your sentence, you were stopped in your tracks by the cold, hard truth: He didn’t force you to do anything. You’d done it all of your own free will. 
That was how it had started. But, holy fuck had it escalated. 
Price was the perfect gentleman on your flight over, mysteriously charming his way into business class seats. He downloaded some of your favorite movies onto his iPad, even though you didn’t remember ever telling him that they were your favorites. He even snuck his way back to the flight attendants’ galley, laughing and joking with them, procuring you two extra desserts from the carts since you were such a fan. 
Then, he met your family, and he fit in perfectly. It was as if he was the missing member, a long lost kin, just waiting to be reunited into the fold. Your mother couldn’t figure out what had you so bothered. 
“About time you brought a good one home. Even your Uncle Billy likes him, and Billy —”
You rolled your eyes, 
“And Billy doesn’t like anyone, I know. I know.”
“Honey,” your mother looked at you with a sternness that she didn’t often muster, peering at you over her rose-rimmed glasses, “Why can’t you just let someone take care of you for a change? He’s a good man.”
A good man. 
John Price was a killer. No, he was worse. He was a CIA-funded, black ops, government-overthrowing war machine, capable of literal atrocities. You hadn’t heard much, but you’d heard enough. If any of these people knew how quickly he could turn a crowded room into an empty one, none of them would be looking so fondly at the way he snuggled with the dog or complimented your dad’s knife collection. 
But, that wasn’t why you protested, was it? If you were really being honest with yourself, the reason why you were so against letting Jonathan War Machine Price run your life was that it was yours to run. You didn’t need anyone’s help.
You didn’t need it.  
You could handle things on your own. 
You liked being able to spread your wings, fly your own path…
You were nobody’s puppet.
But, you were starting to like the way he was pulling your strings. When he would take the pressure of choice away from you, after you’d already been making a million other decisions at the end of a long day, it eased something inside of you in a way that nothing else could. It was like he was using those huge, rough palms to massage the hurt out of your head, to show you that it didn’t need to be such a battle, you didn’t need to keep fighting. He would do the fighting for you, and he was determined to show you that he was good at it. 
Even now, as you stomped through the rain, you knew what you were running from. You told yourself you were avoiding John, that you wouldn’t let him see you struggling to hold yourself together. After a much needed switch into a different position at work, the stress of your own expectations weighed heavy on you. But, you wanted them to. You wanted to know that you could still make it alone. You didn’t need John Price. 
But, you’re wearing the slicker he bought for you when yours got left in a cab.
So?
But, you smell like oud, saffron, and bergamot; the perfume oils he found for you at that local boutique you love. The same one he always compliments when he smells you wearing it. 
So?
But, you’re tired and wet and cold, and all you want is for him to tell you what you want.
So?! 
The soft, amber glow of a cigar stopped you in your tracks. A man was sitting on your bus stop bench, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his legs spread wide, taking up as much space as he liked. He was smoking slowly, enjoying every breath, savoring the flavors. Flavors you knew all too well: vanilla, licorice, sweet cedar, and whiskey. 
His sharp, blue eyes only met yours when you let out a labored sigh.
“What are you doing here, John?”
He took another drag, letting the ashes smolder, their warm glow making him look more and more like the Devil, a fallen man bathed in the light of a fire he lit all by himself. And damn proud of the blaze, too. 
“Just waitin’ for my ride,” he smiled in the way that a cat must smile at a mouse under its paw, “Do you wanna sit down, sweetheart?”
“No! I don’t wanna sit down,” you threw up your hands, “I want you to stop meddling in my life. You’re not allowed to keep making me feel like… like I need someone… some — Like I need someone’s fucking help. I don’t need anyone but me.”
His tone shifted in a sudden heat, like a flash in the pan, unexpected,
“Do you think I have any bloody help?”
Price let the question sink in before standing in front of you, his gaze never leaving your eyes. His voice was soft and gravelly, thick with smoke, and yet each and every word cut into you as sharp as a blade,
“Do you think anyone comes to help me when I’m deep in some bullshit, fuckin’ around in Rammaza? Just me, is it? By myself?”
“I don’t… no, I don’t know…” You hated how small your voice sounded in this tiny bus stop hut, the pounding rain drowning out your words. 
John looked at you as if he was waiting on you to find another answer, and then his face softened. He flung the cigar onto the pavement and crushed it out under his boot, smashing the tobacco into the cement without mercy. The object of his affection, once consumed, now snuffed out under his own power. 
His hands wrapped around your shoulders, caging you in, warm and safe from the wind blocked by his broad back. He sighed, his mouth drawing a tight line across his face, 
“Of course I need fuckin’ help. I have my men, and they have me. And I keep you here,” he jammed a finger hard into his chest, “Deep inside me, remindin’ me what I need to come home to. I’m not… meddling in your life, love. I’m trying to put you in mine. I thought…” 
He pulled away, sitting back down, looking up at you with a unique look on his face, 
“I thought that’s what you wanted. If I’m wrong,” he let out a dark, bitter chuff, “You need to tell me right now. ‘Cause all my plans have you in them.”
The rain made the plexiglass roof sound like it was shattering, over and over, the concussive slam of the storm created an oppressive din. He was waiting there, looking at you, asking for your next move. What was your plan?
“Am I wrong, sweetheart?”
You waited, trying to see how many steps ahead he was in front of you. If you said yes, if you said no; what decisions had already been made for you? Did he know what you were going to say before you did? And the real question: Why were you fighting so hard against something you wanted so badly?
You shook your head back and forth, just enough for him to see. HIs eyes lit up with hope and energy, a renewed flame.
“Then, come home with me. Quit bein’ so bloody hard on yourself. Let’s get you dry, love. C’mon.”
So, you obeyed. 
Nothing was more humbling than climbing into a squat little sports car when you were drenched to the bone. You curled yourself right into his cage, feeling silly for ever wanting to escape from it. Why were you pulling so hard against such soft reins? Couldn’t you see that he wanted to take care of you? To remove all of your barriers, to clear your path? You would be more powerful under his wing, soaring far beyond what you were capable of on your own. Why deny yourself a bite of the apple? It was ripe, the snake had promised, and sweet. 
He helped you up the stairs to your flat, walking you past his men as they gathered together in the kitchen, speechless, for once. None of them dared question their captain’s choices, and he had chosen you. More than that, it was clear that you had chosen him. 
Once you were in his room, behind a locked door, he held up a hand and stopped you in the entryway, shivering and dripping by the door. 
“Wait here.”
You waited. 
You waited some more. 
Just when you thought you would turn around and take yourself to bed, he returned dressed in a dry tee and a pair of running shorts. He carried two large, fluffy towels, and his face was set into a serious mask. All business. 
“Take off your clothes.”
You hesitated, looking at him to make sure you heard him correctly. 
He met your gaze, standing so close to you that you could feel his breath against your cheek. His chest was inches from your face, and you had to look up in order to meet his eyes.
“Take.”
He grabbed your phone out of your hand and dropped it on his entry table.
“Off.”
He rucked the jacket off of your back, peeling it down your arms and letting it fall to the ground with a wet slap.
“Your.” 
His fingers pulled the tie out of your ruined braid, letting the elastic roll onto his wrist. 
“Clothes.”
His hands went back to his side. It was up to you to do the rest. He wasn’t here to do everything for you. You were not his plaything. You had to choose to obey him. He wanted to watch you choose to follow his orders, not because you needed to, but because you wanted to.
Slowly, and a bit unsure, you began to shed your layers. You started with your shirt, almost knocking into him with your elbows since he was towering over you, standing in your space. Then, you writhed out of your jeans, peeling them off of your legs, kicking away your shoes in the process, stepping gingerly out of your socks, needing to hold onto his thick trunk for balance. 
Now, in just your bra and panties, you waited, hoping he’d hand you a towel. 
“What did I say?” He asked in a hushed tone, the timbre containing just enough warning to make your cheeks hot. 
“No, John. The boys are here in the kitchen!” You protested, whispering in a low hiss. 
This was beyond what you expected from him. You’d been keeping him at arm’s length, despite his constant pressure to be in your life. Sure, there had been moments of weakness. You’d shared a kiss, and you had let his hands wander when you watched a movie together on the sofa last weekend, but that was as far as things had gone. Stripping naked in the bright light of his apartment suite was something else entirely. Not to mention what sort of noises would seep out under his doorway if things got out of hand. 
“Stop,” he grabbed you by your face with both hands, making you look at him, “Stop fighting me. I am in this. All the way. The only time I wanna hear you tell me no is when you really mean it. If you say stop, I will immediately stop. Do I make myself clear?”
You nodded. He released you and put his hands on his hips, impatient. 
So, you slid out of your bra, slowly letting the cups pull away from your breasts, the lace cold and damp on your skin as it joined your outfit on the floor. As you rolled your panties off of your hips, stepping out of them and shoving them under your jacket with your toe, you felt more than just naked. You felt vulnerable and a little scared. 
What would he say? What did he plan to do? You realized, with a chilly shudder, that you didn’t even know his personal preferences. He’d never even given you a cursory glance into his mind, and reading his thoughts was impossible with that serious poker face. Most men wore their thoughts right across their eyes, or some (like Soap) even muttered them aloud, unconcerned about any judgment or scrutiny. If a man wanted you, you’d know. They were an open book. 
But the captain was very hard to read. 
Suddenly, as you stood back up, warring with your own mind, you were surrounded in fuzzy, comforting warmth. He was drying you off, wiping your arms and legs with reverent care, squeezing the rain out of your hair, using the corner of the cloth to wipe your face, holding you in his arms when you felt weak, off-balance, exhausted. 
It seemed as if the more you relaxed into him, the more power you gave up, the more it began to stoke his fire. While you became soft and pliant, he shifted into a fierce protector, covering you with his hands, bracing you with his heavy bones.
Price wrapped your hair into a high bun with an unexpected level of skill, and he carefully stretched your hair tie around it. When he turned to face you, you caught him staring at your body, raking his eyes over your breasts and studying the curve of your mons. It was as if he was groping you with his eyes, and each swipe of his gaze felt like a lick from his warm tongue. It was enough of an invasion that you wanted to put your hands in front of yourself, to hide out of some sort of shame.  
But when you made a move to cover yourself, the look in his eyes was enough to make you stand with your hands at your sides, allowing yourself to be on full display for him and that ravenous glare. He hadn’t even needed to chastise you. His mere desire was enough of a correction. 
Then, almost like a reward, he wrapped the towel around you, letting you hold it tight to your chest. 
“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside that pretty head,” he commanded you, his voice quiet but firm. It was just a simple question, but you knew it was loaded. So, you brushed him off, tossing out cheap bait, wrapping the towel a little tighter around yourself, hoping he’d drop it. You shrugged,
“Just cold.”
His jaw set with a click, and that soft purr became a warning growl,
“That’s one,” he held up his finger, “The next lie will cost you that towel, pretty girl.”
You stared at him blankly, trying to find a way through this labyrinth he had — apparently — custom built for you, sending you down twists and turns and dead ends as if he knew exactly how you’d try to steal back some control. But every way out seemed like a worse fate than simply allowing yourself to trust him. Nevertheless, you tried again. 
“I am cold, and I’m tired. It’s been a long day, John,” you sighed, shifting towards him, trying your best to take back the lead to his strange dance, “C’mon, don’t you wanna take me to bed?”
You reached out a hand and snaked it under the hem of his shirt, exploring untouched skin, letting your nails scrape through a dark patch of thick hair, right above his waistband. Your fingers got as far as his navel before he snapped. 
The cold absence of him ripping the towel away from you felt worse than you expected it to. In fact, you hadn’t actually taken him seriously. You protested, indignant,
“Hey! What —-“
“You think this is the same game you’ve always played,” he snarled, throwing the towel away and shoving you to your knees, his hold crushing and cruel on the nape of your neck, “You think, because those lads will eat any scraps you throw to them,” he nodded behind you, gesturing toward his men only a thin wall away, “That I’ll be satisfied with a taste, hm?”
His tone was mocking, and there was an undercurrent of darkness that lingered between each word like a warning, like the red of a poisonous berry that shouldn’t be picked and yet sagged ripe and ready on its stem. 
“You always get your way with them, don’cha? You know that a bit of skin and a little attention will keep them on you for days. And they reward you for it. They text you at all hours of the fuckin’ night, beggin’ you for just one more look, one more bite,” his mouth was right next to your ear, bending over you, casting his shadows across your face, and all you could do was kneel there, fully under his control, unable to move against his immense strength, “But, that’s not what I want.”
Your eyes dared to slant over to the growing monster that pressed its warm body against his shorts, hanging heavy and stretching the fabric, and you dared to hiss at him, even in your compromised position, using his title like a knife, aiming to scrape him with it,
“Seems like you do, Captain.”
He smirked, you could feel his smile against the sensitive skin of your earlobe, and you could see his almost infernal expression out of the corner of your eye. Even though you were trying to get under his skin, it made you feel like you were playing right into his hand yet again, helpless to his will. 
He stood up, never letting go of his grip on your neck, pinching the muscle like you were a caught rabbit, his writhing prey. Then, with a force that made your stomach drop, Price shoved your cheek into the crotch of his shorts, bringing you face to face with the outline his swelling shaft. Your nose was buried in the fabric, and you could smell the soap of his detergent as well as the musk of his sex that throbbed underneath. 
Then, he rucked down his waistband to show himself to you, pressing his length along your cheek, the softness of his skin surprising you just as much as the size of his thick, hefty prick. 
He held your neck in one hand and his cock in the other as he began to stroke himself up and down, letting your temple  and cheekbone feel the slip of his velvet foreskin. You could hear soft, wet clicking sounds as he coated himself in his own fluid, using the clear, dripping pearls as lube. 
You tried to move your jaw to taste him, eager to know if the heady, intoxicating smell of his skin matched his precome, hungry for his reaction to your mouth. But he stopped you, tightening his grip and scolding you like a naughty pet,
“My body wants your body, love. I’ll admit that,” he chuckled, not halting his lurid, jerking pulls, using your cheek for friction, “But I want more. I don’t want a taste. Or a bite. I won’t be satisfied.”
He frowned a bit, shrugging off his confession before he continued, 
“I want you to trust me. Trust that I’ll be here for you, that I’ll always be here. So,” he tugged on your flesh, forcing you to meet his fiery gaze, “Tell me what you thought.”
What were you supposed to say? That you were insecure about your looks? That you weren’t sure if he’d approve? That you were either too much or not enough and you weren’t sure which?
You turned your mouth as much as you could, trying to at least lick along the warm underbelly of his rod, aching to taste him, but he jerked you back into place, laughing at the disappointment on your face,
“Lips to yourself, love. Only good girls get fed.”
You rolled your eyes up to him, and you knew you had to make a choice. He was joking, but it was a façade. He was using it like a shield, waiting to see if you would actually relinquish your control or if you’d cut and run like you did with everyone else. 
So, you decided to trust him, giving him what he wanted, a full confessional on burning, bent knees, eyes cast up at your new master, praying for his communion, your tongue eager for his body and his blood and his love.
You made sure his eyes were locked on yours as you spoke softly, unflinching in your resolve,
“I was worried you wouldn’t like what you saw. I needed you to want me. I was afraid.”
The relief that washed over him was nearly palpable. His whole body responded to your admission, all of that tightly-wound uncertainty melting away in the heat of your submission to him. 
“That’s it. Good,” his voice was heavy with his relief, and he almost seemed like he was slipping into a trance, rubbing himself in steady, long strokes, shuddering against your cheek, “And what now, hm? You want me to let you go? Let you free? Or are you gonna let me in?”
You didn’t break your eye contact with him, but you wavered, sure of your decision but overwhelmed when you had to say it out loud. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the slick mess he was forging between them, trying to find some comfort. You took a breath and told him,
“I’ll let you in, John.”
His throat held back a long, low groan, the pleasure of your surrender or the pleasure of his hand forcing it from his chest. You weren’t sure which. 
His grip loosened on your neck, but he didn’t let go. His voice was barely above a whisper as he told you his rules in hushed, broken phrases, holding himself back from the edge,
“You belong to me, now, sweetheart. You might be in charge at your bloody job, but everything else is mine. Do you hear me?”
You were going to answer him, you’d even planned to tack on a cheeky little yes, sir, just to show him you were playing along, but he had other plans. Always a step ahead. Before you could even breathe to speak, he pressed the tender head of his cock between your lips and deep into the warm hollow of your mouth, his wide form forcing your jaw to fall open to let him inside of you. It shocked you to be taken that way, not roughly but so certainly, with such surety, as if there was no other choice but for him to take you. You shifted, but with his knuckles tight against the base of your skull, you couldn’t retreat. Other than lolling your tongue along the body of his shaft, or swallowing against its drooling tip, you were powerless. 
His face twisted into a hungry sort of smear full of teeth and lips, grimacing at the feeling of being surrounded by you. Every inch that he drove himself deeper, his breathing would halt until at last, as he buried himself into your clenching throat, his lungs had emptied, and he was sighing with a ragged, guttural cry. 
“When you’re with me…” He continued his dark promises to you, the words choppy and broken, only threaded loosely together between panting gasps, “Even when I’m a fuckin’ world away, I promise that I will take care of you,” he pet your cheek with the softest affection, admiring you like a work of art, “All of you. You will sleep when I say. You will eat when I say. You will come when I say,” he smiled a little more cruelly at that, watching your eyes widen. And, as you began to wish for air, planting your palms against his firm, muscular thighs, ready to push away, he looked down at you with a lurid satisfaction, “You will breathe when I say.”
You were choking. You could hear yourself in the quiet of his room, your throat gurgling, full of your own viscous drool, escaping where it could along the stretched line of your mouth, running down your chin and neck. You felt the flare of panic rise up within you, and you tried to pull away in earnest, writhing against his grip, trying to escape from him and failing, turning your body in shameful futility. 
Price bent his face toward you, folding himself to whisper his lustful words, making sure your eyes met his, pressing your nose into his soft pubic hair,
“You. Breathe. When. I. Say.”
He kept himself contorted like that, keeping his face low to watch your eyes, to witness your struggle, and you felt hot tears burn down your face, the effort overcoming you. But, you wanted to show him that you could obey. You wanted to trust him, to show him that you were willing to give him your freedom, knowing that only he was worthy of such a gift. So, you swallowed deeply, watching as it made his eyes flutter, and again, and again. Over and over, you closed your throat around his steel-hard length, choking when it became too much. 
Still, he kept you there. As brave as you’d been with partners in the past, even those moments were fully eclipsed by this one. You had never even thought that you might be capable of holding your breath for so long. 
You were sobbing wholeheartedly now, your eyes reflecting your desperation, tears pooling and spilling across your face. He was watching you cry, whispering breathless nothings, soft words of encouragement,
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. You’re so fuckin’ good. My good girl.”
Just as purple and blue spots began to obscure your vision, he pulled himself out of you in a terrible, wet departure, leaving you clutching his hips, sobbing into his belly, watching his hard cock pounding, swaying at full height, swollen with blood and eager for its finish. You could feel those same soft, dark hairs matting down as your tears soaked into them. He ran his fingers through your hair, keeping the fallen strands out of your face, still holding you at your nape, but just to comfort you. 
You imagined him letting go, and you felt… sad, somehow. He would have to release you at some point, but you were in such a submissive state, just the idea of him leaving you without his guiding hand was too much to bear. 
Your cries turned to a twisted kind of grief, and when he heard your tone change, he dropped to the floor with you, holding you to his chest, rocking you back and forth, shushing you and talking to you in a hushed voice,
“Shh, baby. Tell me to stop. Tell me…”
You grasped at him wildly, uncontrolled, holding onto whatever part of him you could, shaking your head,
“No, no. Don’t — don’t let me go. Please, I can’t… I need… I need you to touch me.”
You planted one of your hands across his, covering the one that gripped your neck, pressing it like a plaster, like it was keeping a wound healed, like it was a dam in front of your frothing, vengeful river; it was a lifeline and you were adrift. 
“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna let you go. I’m right here. Shh. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. C’mon. Come with me.”
He lifted you, helping you walk on sore, shaking legs, your nerves sparking across your skin. Then, with his hand still firmly planted against your neck, he led you like a shepherd with his lamb, marching you to his bedroom. As you approached the bedframe, your thighs hit the mattress, and Price guided you forward until your body lay flat against it. The duvet was cool and smooth against your belly and breasts, and you tucked your arms into yourself, looking for warmth. 
You felt John plant gentle kisses across your back, trailing them down your spine, and after the overstimulation you had just gone through, even his lightest touch was electric. 
Your tears had stopped, but still you panted, sniffling, trembling from the shock of his careful kisses, waiting for whatever would come next. 
You felt his hips press against your exposed ass cheeks, his shorts now missing, and all you could sense was his warm, furry skin. You sighed into it, happy for the connection. 
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
You complied immediately, all of your tortured resistance gone from you now, ready to trust him to take care of you. 
The unknown was what made your belly swarm with butterflies, and as you waited for his next move, your mind raced with possibilities. 
Would he be cruel? Would he punish you for your lying when he had first taken you in? His hand might strike your tender flesh, slapping your ass and leaving red, angry marks. 
Would he be lustful? Your mind fed you imaginary moments where he would press his cock into your pussy, skipping any foreplay, simply using you like his warm, wet toy. You thought that he wanted more, something more intimate, but if not, you would let him. You were his to use. At this point, you were so pliant, so open to his will, he could use you over and over and you would take him. It was a dark confidence you had never known until now. 
Perhaps he would simply stop. Maybe he perceived you as weak, as if you couldn’t take what he wanted to give you. He would simply comfort you, pitying you for your wrecked state. It was this thought that turned your stomach. Surely, he knew you better than that. John Price was not the pitying type. 
As the base of his cock lay nestled in the cleft of your ass, still as hard as a stone, his long shaft was shoved up against his lower abdomen, pulsing with unslaked desire. Then, as he settled himself, pleased with your spread display, John began to slip the very tips of his fingers into your pussy. He was just feeling your softness, plucking at your petals, laying them open with his hand, using your own wetness to paint your lips and the tight muscle of your hole, preparing you for more. 
His voice broke the trance that his touch had put you in, 
“It kills me when I have watch you putting yourself through hell. You are so strong, but you deserve to have everything you want. Everything you need, I’ll make sure you have it. I promise.”
He was so sincere, and his voice sounded so sure. It was like he was sharing an old memory, something he knew by heart. 
“John, please…” You whispered, feeling yourself slipping, slowly becoming untangled by his touch. You needed more, but you had no words. You could barely concentrate, and your mind was swimming in a liminal space, trapped in a loop of mounting bliss. 
“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” you felt your tears return, and although you were desperate for something, you couldn’t find the answer. 
“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright,” John rubbed your back with his free hand, smoothing your skin with his warm touch, “Does my pretty girl need to come?”
You nodded, daring to glance over your shoulder at him as he worked on you, his finger now sinking deeper into you, gently prodding your walls in long, aching circles. His other fingers were cradling your folds, slipping between them with each undulating thrust, brushing beside the swelling body of your clit and making you throb with need. 
He felt it, and you saw a warm smile spread across his face,
“I can feel you needin’ me. So wet for me. Fightin’ me so bloody hard. Thought I’d be wantin’ you forever. Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of havin’ you under me like this? Fuck, I need you so badly, baby.”
You felt his grip tighten on your neck again as he pressed you deeper into the soft mattress, his prying hand picking up the pace. His thick finger finally slipped down to the knuckle of his fist. As he fucked you on his hand, you could hear your body’s slick as it softened for him, submitting to his power just as you had done, your body at peace with your mind. 
He pressed a second finger beside his first, twisting them together, curling the tips to rub you from the inside, making you feel the deep ache of your orgasm building within your belly. 
You tried to find more friction, rocking your hips against the bed, squeezing your legs together, needing more but completely helpless to his pace and pressure. 
Price stopped, pushing his fingers right into the tender flesh of your neck as a warning,
“Open,” he shoved your foot away, spreading them for you, “You keep fighting and fighting… fine. I’ll give you something to fight for, hm?”
You tried to twist your knees together again, but his legs stood apart, holding you open. Then, you felt his threat. He put the head of his heavy prick against your greedy hole, dipping it into your wetness like a seal into warm, melting wax.
“C’mon,” he squeezed your nape hard, once, just enough to get your attention, “You wanna drive? Fuckin’ drive, love. You think you can fuck yourself better than I can fuck you? Prove it.”
You narrowed your eyes, glaring at him, watching the muscles ripple and pop in his forearm that held you down, unwilling to give you full control, and yet allowing you to set the pace. You saw his other hand rub the curve of your hip, dropping lower to grope your ass, egging you on. 
Unwilling to beg, you thrust yourself down onto his shaft, gasping from his girth, only managing to fit half of him inside of you, physically unable to go any deeper on your own. But, you tried again, lifting away, sinking back, repeating your movements and reaching between your legs to rub your clit as you fucked him.
But, it wasn’t enough. You felt so close to the edge, and yet you couldn’t tumble over it, losing your rhythm, chasing it down, too weak to reach the peak you knew was right within your grasp. 
You grunted in frustration, and his cruel laugh made you turn back towards him again. 
He shrugged,
“I thought you wanted to be in charge. Does it feel good, sweetheart?”
“Fuck!” You gasped, trying to catch your pleasure and feeling it slip from you yet again, humping your hips against the bed shameless and desperate. 
“Tch,” Price gripped the inside of your ass cheek, shaking it and rolling your soft flesh in his hand, “Too bad, love. I wanted to give it to you. Shame, really.”
“John! Please,” you caved, sobbing out a short moan, begging him impatiently. 
“Please, what?” His question came just as he decided to press himself deeper into your body than you had been able to go, sinking into you like a hand into a glove, a tight, all-encompassing fit. 
You whined, rolling your fingers over your clit faster, feverish, ready for relief, 
“Please make me come.”
“You will come…” He stretched you, giving you no warning, the sharp feeling of his invasion making you catch your breath, “When I bloody tell you to.”
Then, as if to prove it to you, he stuffed his length into your pussy, never pulling back very far, choosing instead to massage you with his cock, using his base to stretch you wide before rolling away. The sensation overwhelmed you, and his size made your mind go blank. Any words that formed in your mind turned to whining cries of pleasure on your tongue.
There were no sounds of lewd pounding of flesh on flesh. All of Price’s work was deep and wet, churning inside of you like a volcanic sea, hot and untamed. He, however, made plenty of noise, praising you in every way he knew how, speaking in half-clipped phrases, losing his sentence to a groan of relief as he fed himself to you, filling your pussy like a hungry mouth. 
You felt yourself getting closer by the moment. Each grinding thrust was pushing you ever nearer to that gleaming, crackling fuse. He had lifted you, unintentionally, unable to understand the effect of his strength, and your toes could barely scrape the floor. You could feel your sacral core clenching around him like a delicate vice, grabbing for his cock, trying to hold him within your belly, some twisting grip of nature used to ensure that his creamy come ended up where it belonged, soaking into your womb.
Your clenching made him pause, which, in turn, caused you to cry out to him, wordlessly babbling, begging for him to return, to keep his pace. 
“Don’t you dare, sweetheart. Don’t you dare come,” his voice was like rattling brimstone, smoky and burning within his throat. 
“Please…” You whispered, unable to lift your raspy, keening voice. 
With shallow, teasing thrusts, Price used his cockhead to softly pop in and out of your soaked hole, swollen from being well-fucked. Just hearing a vibrator would have sent you over the edge at that point, and you fought him, trying to get any sort of power at all, rolling your body like a caught snake. 
“Stop,” he said curtly, “Stop fighting. Be still.”
You quieted yourself down, breathing heavy, sweating into his sheets, shivering like you had a fever, burning up from the inside out. 
For the first time, you felt his hand leave your neck, and his fingers twisted themselves into your hair at the base of your skull. Slowly, carefully, he lifted you by your head, forcing your back into a vicious arch, letting your breasts hang freely, your arms trying to balance you, mostly worthless since Price had full control of your torso in this position. 
His free hand slid around your front, groping you wildly, plucking your nipples and filling his palms with the meat of your breast. Then, he replaced your fingers with his own, pressing beside your sensitive clit, rolling it softly in long, firm strokes. 
You heard yourself make a new sound, one you’d never made, an animal’s grunting, something reckless and feral. 
Then, Price took up his stretching rhythm again, fully in charge of everything you were sensing. To you, he may as well have been in control of your mind. It was no use to you; you were at his mercy and it was everything you’d ever wanted. 
“Do you trust me?”
Your thoughts swam, unable to even consider anything but the truth, and amongst all of your vocalized ecstasy, you managed to reply,
“Yes.”
“Don’t come. Keep it. Just like that.”
“J-John!”
“Wait, wait, wait… good girl. Good.”
“Ohhh, fuck…”
His next words seemed barely human, snarled at you through bared teeth,
“Now. Come for me. Come f— fuck! Holy fuck.”
When you felt him spill into you, you had almost no control left over your own orgasm. Your heart felt like it had leapt into your throat, and all you could experience was your shining, explosive finish. You heard no sound, and your eyes went white, rolling back into your head. You couldn’t breathe, or scream, and if it wasn’t for John’s immense body holding you tight, you would have crashed into his bed, all used up.
His orgasm was as long as yours was, and he finished in slow, fearsome thrusts, burying his head into you as deep as he could reach, smearing your lips with your mixed fluids, caring nothing for the mess. 
“C’mere, love. Come to me,” Price held you to his chest, finally pulling himself from you, holding you as close as he could, laying beside you in a sweaty, spent tangle of arms and legs. 
You lay your head on his chest, catching your breath, only to tumble into a dreamless sleep with him, your body exhausted from your effort. 
When you woke up the next day, you could feel him all over you. He had left you alone in the bed, and yet your skin and bones kept his imprints. You could feel the ghost of his fingertips on your neck, and you were sore in places you weren’t sure how you could be. Everything was a wet mess, and just when you worried about how you’d cross the apartment without yesterday’s outfit, you saw that John had left you a note. 
Training day on base. I'll be back tonight. Dinner on me. Wear this. xx
Under the note, Price had laid out his favorite dress of yours, a blue satin slip of a thing, and (with the tags still on) you found a matching lace set of bra and panties in the same pretty color, just your size. You couldn’t see the price, but when you searched for the brand online, you couldn’t help but blush. He'd spent more than just a pretty penny on this outfit. You couldn't help but notice that the delicate lace would show through the thin fabric of the dress, making little raised ridges where your nipples would be.
Whatever you’d just agreed to when you said you’d let John Price into your life was about to get very, very interesting. 
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AO3 Link
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iwozlegit · 1 month ago
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|| 🍍• Transformers: Prime walked with “and they were besties” so Transformers: One could STRUT with “and they were roommates.”
Do they expect us NOT to go insane?
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bildadthefuckingshuite · 8 months ago
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HELLO HELLO HELLO!
The first chapter of our INEFFABLE BOYFRIENDS comic is getting done!!!!! (where is my applause?)
It will be posted here on tumblr and i had write around 10 chapters and 3 extras (that i need to draw ☠️)
This is the back cover of the first chapter :]
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aakeysmash · 8 months ago
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Roommate or boss?
Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.
Warnings: a lot of yapping. Male masturbation. A bit of violence from Katsuki’s part when a guy tries getting in your pants.
Word count: this part is 2.4k, added to the others (part 1, part 2, part 3) it’s 8.9k.
Next part: part 5
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"It's too hot" you mewl while lying on your couch. “Step back, it’s my turn to be in front of the fan” you add, getting up and walking towards Katsuki.
“Fuck no, it’s been 3 minutes since you had a go at it. Go back to the hell hole you came from, pest” your roommate answers while throwing daggers at you.
You poke your finger in his exposed bicep. He doesn’t budge. Damn, this man is hard as a rock.
“Come onnnnn! This is the time when you should be a gentleman and let me cool down my beautiful face. Do you really want to be such a brute, Mr. Bakugou?” you bat your eyelashes seductively, trying to convince him.
Bakugou stares at you like your face is green and you’re a slimy frog that just came out of a pile of mud.
“I don’t fucking care. You’re a big girl and I ain’t no prince charming. Step the fuck back or I’m throwing you on that damn sofa. Wait your shitty turn” he says, flicking your forehead.
You whine some more, whisper “bitch” (it gets you another flick) and then turn back to lay on the floor. It’s colder than the couch, at least.
It’s summer, there’s 41°C outside, and your AC broke the other day. It’s so hot that you take out the ice from the freezer and it melts in 4 minutes (max). You happened to have one old crusty fan, that you and Bakugou take turns using. You have been surviving on iced coffee and iced lemonades. You feel like you’re slowly dying.
“You know, this is the only time I really wish my boss would call me in early. He might be a ghost, but he sure uses money for the AC” you blabber while staring at the ceiling, contemplating booking a trip to Alaska.
“What do you mean a ghost?” the blond asks. He’s been much more talkative in the last few months, maybe because seeing you being so domestic was doing something to him. In the last few days he really wants to be your friend, but not because he’s suddenly nice: he thinks he could bribe you to gift him the fan if he’s kinder and breaks your defenses. He’s even planning on asking you to go to a cafe nearby and offer you one of those sweet fuzzy iced drinks you like so much. He’s scheming.
“A ghost because I’ve never seen his face. Can you believe that? My colleague says he’s an asshole though, so maybe that’s for the better” you answer. You get on your elbows to see him better, then squint and frown, “I feel like you could be my boss, you know. Seeing as you’re an asshole too, making me die here on the floor like a common drug addict”.
Yeah, screw the fan. He was asking you out to kill you.
“I hope he fires you”.
“Fuck you”.
“Likewise”.
You throw yourself back on the floor. The movement makes your boobs giggle, and he catches himself staring at your white tank top. You didn’t wear a bra since it’s indeed still your house and it’s indeed still hot as hell.
Things have been going so much better between you two. You now bicker like you’re siblings, but you do also take walks together sometimes, mainly to get groceries, and talk about stuff. You even convinced him to watch Keeping up with the Kardashians with you, and even if he doesn’t want to admit it, he likes the drama more than you.
At work you have a new manager and she’s super nice. Her name is Mina, and you found out that she and Kirishima are engaged, even if they’re 22 like you. She’s a great worker, and you’ve gone out for drinks a couple of times with her and Momo. She’s been at the cafe for 2 months, but you feel so much better already. She throws you weird looks sometimes, like she knows something you don’t, but you pay it no mind.
The timer on your phone rings, and you jump up before throwing your whole body on Katsuki’s. He’s distracted and you get him off guard, managing to move him away. He notices your tits touching his arm.
“Hah! My turn!” you say triumphantly, positioning yourself in front of the fan. The cold air makes your nipples harden. He seems to not be able to look away.
“Awh, Katsuki, cat got your tongue? Don’t worry, baby, the floor is not that bad” you snicker.
He snaps out of his trance and looks at your smirk. Baby? Did you just call him baby?
Fuck, what is he doing? The heat is getting to him. He hastily turns around and starts walking.
“Fuck off, I’m getting in the shower. You can have your fucking fan until I get out” he grunts while almost running away. He needs to have a cold shower.
“We’ll see!” you smile devilishly at him, not having noticed how he’s furiously blushing while slamming the bathroom door.
Katsuki puts his back on the door and slides to the floor. He rubs his face before staring at the obvious tent his semi is causing in his shorts.
Have you always been so hot?
He gets out of his clothes and jumps in the shower, hoping this feeling will go away once the scorching temperature of his skin gets back to normal. But after a few minutes the icy water does nothing to quell his desire, his fully standing cock a statement to that.
He curses under his breath, then wraps one of his hands on his shaft. He feels so dirty doing this, and the fact you’re one door away makes him feel even more embarrassed.
“Let’s get this fucking over with, fuck” he says to himself, pumping his member slowly.
He imagines the way your hand would feel instead of his, or your big eyes staring up at him like you did before, just that in this case you were forcing yourself not to cry while choking on his cock. His hand would be in your hair instead of on his dick, pushing your mouth snugly against his pubes. Your mouth would be hotter than the sun outside and he'd give you a reason to sweat. If you pleaded hard enough he'd fuck you too. He’d really throw you on the sofa, ripping your damn white top and sucking on your nipples. Fuck, what if you pierced them? Your tits would look so good covered in his-
He cums, grunting. "Fuck, this is the most embarrassing shit I've ever had to do to cum" he adds, whispering to himself.
He makes sure to scrub the shower wall clean before putting on the pair of grey short sweatpants he was wearing before. He decides on not to put his black compression tee on, since it’s drenched in sweat.
He exits the bathroom and finds you lying on the couch with the fan blowing directly on your face. Your eyes are closed, and the peaceful expression you're wearing makes his dick throb again.
"Oi, wanna go out? We're short on ice" he finds himself saying.
You open one eye, but when you realize he's half naked you hastily close it and throw him the pillow you were resting your head on.
"When has this become a whore house?" you scream.
He rolls his eyes. "You're such a prude. It's not like you've never seen a man naked" he scoffs, while throwing the pillow back at you.
You open your eyes again and glare at him. You know you must be as red as a tomato.
He looks so good with his hair still dripping wet. You've known that he works out, but now that you see his torso this close and with so little covering his whole body, you find yourself feeling shy. There's a particular drop of water that cascades just in the middle of his pecs, and you follow it with your eyes until it reaches his belly button.
"Earth to y/n. I know I'm hot, but stop ogling and answer my fucking question" your roommate says smirking, snapping his fingers in front of your face.
You throw the same pillow you threw before right on his smiling face. "I'm coming if you're not gonna be naked!" you say, hastily going towards your room.
"But wouldn't you like it, baby?" he mocks the tone you've used with him just 30 minutes ago.
"Fuck you. I'll be there in 10" you respond, slamming your bedroom door, feeling hot and bothered.
It must be the summer.
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You and Katsuki go to a store nearby to get ice.
“When is the landlord gonna repair the AC?” you ask, since he was the one to make the call.
“He said he’ll come next week, probably even the next one. Said he’s on vacay or some shit” he grunts from next to you.
“I can’t survive 2 weeks like this” you whine. “Oh, you know those noodles you did the other day? The spicy ones? Want to make them for dinner today?” you change the topic, looking up at him.
He spares you a glance before smirking and saying “you just said you’re dying, you sure you wanna eat spicy things?”.
“It doesn’t matter, that’s not the question” you say, pouting.
He smirks again. “Sure. Go and take the noodles, I’ll get the vegetables. Call me when you’re finished if you can’t come back here, I know you get lost like a dumbass”.
You slap his arm. “I do not! This place is just big, asshole”. Then you turn around and march straight towards… the wrong aisle. Katsuki shakes his head. You’ll find a way. You always do, somehow.
After 10 minutes you’re still not back and you still haven’t called, so he sighs and gets his phone out.
He missed your texts from 3 minutes ago.
Y/N: Help
Y/N: I feel like a guy is following me
Y/N: I’m next to some spicy sauces, I guess
Y/N: Mom come pick me up, I’m scared
He raises an eyebrow. You’re usually too prideful to text him when you don’t find the ingredients he tells you to search for, so this situation is weird. He tries to remember where the spicy sauces are, and goes for that aisle.
Meanwhile, you were right and a creepy guy was indeed following you. He’s slim, not that tall and looks like a predator. For the past couple of minutes he’s obviously been trying to get in your pants, and you don’t know how to remove yourself from the situation.
“Come on, just give me your number. You got a boyfriend? Is this why you’re being so… spicy?” he says with a low tone of voice, walking towards you and effectively blocking you from the eyes of the people who are walking down your aisle. From outside, he just seems like he’s talking to you.
“I said I’m not interested” you repeat for what feels like the 10th time. Then you decide to lie: “and yes, I do have a boyfriend. He gets crazy when he’s jealous, I wouldn’t want to anger him if I were you”. You hope you sound confident enough.
“Awh he doesn’t have to now, baby girl. It can be our dirty little secret… I love spicy little things like you” he says seductively, touching your arm and licking his lips.
You’re just about to raise your elbow high enough to break his nose when you feel a familiar voice behind you.
“Step the fuck back before I break your fucking hand” Katsuki says to the man in front of you.
You snap your gaze to his eyes, but he’s looking at the guy with a murderous intent.
The slimy guy in front of you doesn’t let go, in fact he just strengthens the hold he has on your arm and you wince. Katsuki notices this.
The guy is definitely intimidated, but still manages to say “mind your business bro, we’re together, this is my bitch-“. But before he can finish the sentence he finds himself crashing on the sauces of the aisle.
“I said step the fuck back. I don’t like to repeat myself. Don’t ever call my girlfriend your bitch again, or next time I’m breaking your damn nose“ your roommate says while putting a hand on your small back.
He then looks down at you, and while he’s looking deep into your eyes, tells you “you good, baby?”.
You nod. You feel your knees shaking, but not because of the guy who’s currently on the floor.
Which, by the way, is now scoffing and declaring “oh so this is your crazy boyfriend? Nobody likes good guys anymore, huh”. He then stands up, adding “you were never pretty enough for me, anyway”.
Katsuki looks at him and suddenly he laughs. “You’re a pathetic ass bitch if you really believe someone like you could ever be near someone like her. You’re not a good guy, you’re an awful piece of shit who only tries to get his dick wet by forcing girls to have sex with him, and you’re obviously failing at that too. Go back to your room and rub one out on some shitty porn like you always do, fucker” he spits out. “You have 5 seconds to get out of my fucking face”.
The asshole thinks he’s joking, so he doesn’t move from his spot, but Katsuki is obviously not playing. He looks super scary, and he’s towering over the pathetic boy.
Katsuki is losing his patience. “5, 4, 3…”.
The guy gets that he’s serious and flees the scene, running with his tail between his legs.
Your roommate takes a big breath before mumbling “I hate people”. You snicker, before looking up at him. “Thank you, you know” you say smiling.
Your gratefulness blinds him, or maybe it’s just that you’re that pretty.
“You’re welcome”.
He doesn’t remove his hand from your back for the rest of your walk, and it feels so natural to be so close to him that you don’t say anything.
A/N: If you want to be put in the taglist make sure your age is visible on your blog first, and then tell me so in the comments <3
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exis-j-harvey · 25 days ago
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Just finished a lovely fanfiction from @dreadpirateurania13 and I'm fucking obsest, love the way you build up scenes and the relationship dinamic between Hugo and Varian Is my Bible, thank you so much😭✨
Suggest everyone give it a go!
These are some sketches inspired by the last chapter (and I have more in the backroom)
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thatonedudeinthecorner · 7 months ago
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Psych (2006) au where it has nothing to do with the plot of the show but in college Shawn played in a dnd group and he bought weighted dice and he just lies about it to all of his friends and the players and they believe him because god dammit he’s just so good at lying.
Shawn didn’t even go to college but he snuck into the campus dnd group because Gus was the DM and Gus is the only one who knows that he’s cheating, but his character is really well written and because of his rolls the campaign is really productive so he just lets it happen.
But at the beginning of every session he goes “Shawn you need to stop using weighted die, it’s not ethical dnd playing and you’re going to get caught and everyone’s going to be really mad at you” and Shawn goes “okay but it’s really funny though, isn’t it?” And Gus just sighs and then they make out or something.
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