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mysticmunson · 2 years

Text

in the cards

eddie munson x reader x steve harrington

summary: after a mundane game of go-fish, steve makes a proposition that changes your friendship.

word count: 7.1k

warning: SMUT, minors go away shoo, dumbification

quick shoutout to @lilacletter for being amazing and letting me talk about the fic way too much!

Playing Go-Fish wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but the game barely persisted as Eddie and Steve conversated. After their shifts at work, they met at yours and Eddie’s apartment, the typical meeting spot since Steve tried to avoid his house like the plague when his parents were home.

A mixed set of diamonds and spades sat in Eddie’s hand as he tapped his foot, tapping the pad of his fingers against his pursed lips. His collection on the table was growing, but still slightly behind the one before him.

“Are you even listening to me?” Steve huffed, his elbows on the table as the other eyes flicked up in his direction, rolling on their way. Placing the game face down, he leaned forward, motioning for his friend to continue.

“She couldn’t even remember my name when she was leaving, man! And not even in a good way!” Steve groaned, throwing his cards down and rubbing his palms against eyes, slouching down in the wooden chair of the dining room table.

The date he had had last week was eating him alive ever since he pulled away from Mary’s house. They both knew what they were going into when she offered him to come over while her parents were away. What he didn’t expect was for her to forget his name, still getting it wrong when he reminded her as she sent him off with, “See ya, Cleave.”

“What kind of name is Cleave? Do I look like a Cleave?” Steve questioned rhetorically as Eddie smirked, holding back a laugh as he nodded. “What? Never had a girl forget her name before, hotshot?”

“Yeah, asshole, I have.” Eddie scoffed, rubbing the corners of his lips, “It was just one bad time, Mary is bland anyways, find someone you actually find interesting. Have a connection with.”

It was true, Mary had been a fairly desperate choice after a few dry weeks, bumping into her at the mall. He hadn’t seen her since high school, even then she would just come to his house parties to drink and head out with a member of the football team. He knew he could never forget her as during junior year, she threw up into his grandma’s vase and cried, running to a friend's car with the vase in arms.

“It shouldn’t be this difficult to get laid.” Steve sighed, pushing his chair to stand, sauntering over to the fridge to grab two beers. The wooden drawers were littered with Chinese food menus, appliance instructions, and loose change, but in the depths was a silver bottle opener.

He firmly flicked the cap back, repeating the motion for the other bottle before tossing it back into the unknown. The tops scraped across the granite counters with a sharp noise, wincing as he put them into the garbage pail. Entering the dining room, he held the drink towards Eddie as he accepted.

“Not difficult to get laid, difficult to get laid good.” Eddie stated, shrugging and taking a sip. The bubbles tickled his throat as he coughed them away subtly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Since when are you the sex expert?” Steve grumbled, not enjoying the turn of events that this conversation was bringing forth. He fell to his seat, slumping as he threw his head back, taking a long slip.

It seemed like days ago that Eddie would ask Steve for advice on your guy’s sex life, paranoid that he would be shit at it and scare you away. He’d always assure him it wouldn’t, he had known you longer than Eddie, and it would take much more than awkward touching to get rid of you.

Now, it was more than days, weeks, or months ago. You two had been together for over two years, moved in together, and ironed out the major sex concerns. But Steve had never had to vent like this to him and his ego was bruising like a peach.

“Since I’ve had a girlfriend for almost three years and you can’t even get a steady hook up.” He snapped, rolling his eyes as he gathered all the cards in a pile, straightening them into a deck. The soft cracking of the paper hitting one another filled the room as Eddie began to shuffle, seeing quick splashes of red and black amongst the white sheets.

“Whatever, maybe it’s cause I like trying kinky shit unlike some people!” Steve retorted, but was only met with a laugh that Eddie couldn’t hold back for even a moment. The boy's eyebrows scrunched as he looked at him expectantly, hoping for an explanation of his abrupt humor, “Oh what, you’re some King in the bedroom now?”

After he stopped needing frequent advice, Eddie didn’t talk about sex that much, aside from the typical joke or banter. Steve figured it could be due to his friendship with both of you or that Eddie finally relaxed into the intimacy, but part of him always wanted to know the details.

Sure, it was nosey, but everyone is nosey, especially when two of your closest friends start dating. You two were a bit of an odd pair, anyone with Eddie was as his rough exterior could juxtapose with your gentiler one. When Eddie would ask about how he should initiate sex or suggest something, it made Steve’s mind wander. He kept it under a fair amount of control, but he saw the fictional visuals as he made suggestions. He knew you both well, so well that sometimes he was convinced he was the puppet master of your sex lives for the first few weeks.

Once you two had gotten closer, the chats stopped, with any questions towards Eddie being met with, “No complaints.” Short, but effective, and unfortunately, nothing to add onto. He tried to ignore it, focusing on his own issues, but it practically taunted him. He’d see a used condom in the trash when using the bathroom or notice the way you shivered when Eddie dragged his fingers against your bare skin, even in the most innocent of areas, shooting you a wink.

“I doubt that you wanting to try shit is prohibiting your action and King is debatable.” Eddie mused, resting his ring clad fingers against his gray shirt, the condensation from the glass lingering to darken the fabric.

Finally, more than just blanket statements, he could work with this banter.

“So just sometimes a King? Sometimes a disappointment like your old chum?” Steve joked, running a hand through his locks, working through a single knot that must have come from a kid pulling on his hair at work. Apparently kneeling to the bottom row to organize nature documentaries was a contact sport.

“I do what I need to do. And then some.” Eddie replies, but his friend can see the smile he’s trying to suppress before his lips meet the bottle again. So Steve nods for him to continue, putting his ankle against his opposite knee, giving him full attention.

Eddie doesn’t look over until he becomes painfully aware of the silence, seeing awaiting eyes. He liked having something private that no one would know or understand, seeing each other in a raw way completely enticing to the other.

But part of him wanted to spill his guts, share every detail with precision and description. He was never one to bite his tongue, constantly having a new topic to discuss or argue about. He could trust Steve, probably more than anyone, and you trusted Steve a lot too.

“We’ve done a lot, she forgets my name and her own a lot. It’s… something else, man.” He sighs, relinquishing the sharp breath behind his teeth, curling his toes from inside his boots.

“In a Cleave way or a good way?” Steve jests, not enjoying the slight awkwardness lingering, that Eddie cackles at, shaking his head.

“Good way, don’t think we would’ve lasted this long if she called me Freddie.” He laughs, one that Steve returns, “She goes dumb a lot, so it’s not unusual.”

The riot quieted as Steve tried to make sense of Eddie’s comment. You weren’t dumb, not by a long shot, you had managed those boys out of trouble more times than they could count.

“Ya know, turns into an airhead, can barely talk, starts blinking slower, and just mumbling.” Eddie explained, “But sometimes, it gets really loud. Cries and drools a lot too, basically have to carry her cause her legs get too shaky.”

Silence hung for maybe a moment before Steve laughed, making Eddie look up at the boy before him who rubbed fingers over his eyebrows. His eye roll was noticeable, even behind the stray hairs that fell as his head moved and the fans blew cold air.

“What’s so funny, Harrington? Don’t believe me?” Eddie grimaced, annoyed at his friends behavior and trying to ignore the shot to his self esteem. His sexual experiences started years after Steve’s, it’s why he went to him in the first place after you two got together.

As time went on, you made him feel relaxed about wanting things or experimentation, so much so that he didn’t feel a need to talk about it with anyone, but you. Steve would rant or rave about his newest find while he chose to hold his cards a bit closer, especially as you got more vulnerable with him.

After your first few times together, he noticed you couldn’t fully relax into it like he could. There was a subtle rigidness to your form, as if your body could decompress, but you were holding back. When you revealed you wanted him to place his hands around your neck, he was nervous, but tried gently.

He watched as your eyes went blank, breathing leveling out, and body molding to his against the mattress. His thrusts kept their harsh pace as he talked you through your orgasm, finishing himself not long after. During after care, he mentioned it and watched bashfulness cover your face.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to have my hands around your neck to fully relax, baby.” He confessed, your body against his as he cupped your cheek, “Let's just keep trying different things and see what you like best, okay? I just want you to enjoy it.”

The next few times were spent experimenting with positions, dynamics, and role play. It wasn’t until you stopped trying to force it that it happened. You had a particularly rough day, crashing into him with neediness that you usually tried to suppress as he led you to the bedroom.

The same hazy gaze coated your eyes as he fucked you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room as you squeaked in response to his grunts. When Eddie noticed, he encouraged it, being gentle vocally to help you succumb to the pleasure you were craving. It made you feel weightless and made him feel like a hero. It became addicting, the dynamic of letting him care for you as you let the day melt away.

“Whatever man.” Steve commented, his lips meeting the bottle as he drank it halfway, burping quietly into his fist.

“I’m not lying, jackass!” Eddie raised his voice, not indicating anger, but in frustration and his typical rowdiness. His brown eyes bore into his companions as they go from playful to complex.

“Prove it.” Steve retorts, solidifying his stance at the opposition. Eddie had no reason to lie, but he couldn’t imagine you so defenseless. So helpless.

Eddie opened his mouth to reply until his eyes widened, eyebrows disappearing behind his unruly bangs of brown. His reaction made Steve’s stomach drop, if the instigation was overstepping a boundary he had been blind to, but how were you supposed to react to this sort of proposition.

The gears within their head slowly churned as they stared at one another, pursed lips and nodding slowly and subtly. Downing the rest of his beer in one swing, Eddie let out a loud breath as the bubbles trailed down his gut.

“Okay Harrington, if she agrees, join us.” Eddie decides, truly unsure on whether you would find the idea enticing or strange. Feeling a bit of both of those emotions, the boys shook their hands on it before letting their arms fall to their sides.

That was 3 weeks ago.

Steve figured you had opted against it, cringing at the idea of him becoming sexually involved in your relationship, but you nor Eddie were acting differently. You all went to dinner as normal, Steve came over every few days, all the mundane things that occurred prior to the conversation over cards.

When the days of radio silence fizzled to background noise, he concluded that it wasn’t going to happen, that the perverted thoughts that crept in his mind would remain there until they vanished. But with Eddie’s added details, it only enhanced the imagery, seeing everything when he closed his eyes.

As he tied his shoelaces, sat on his bed in jeans and a sweater as he prepared to do last minute adult stuff, like going to the post office. Robin had been away at band camp for two weeks and asked him to write letters, most he forgot to send, but he was determined to make at least one get there before she came home and ridiculed him.

His bedside table phone startled him, securing the knot before grabbing the green handle, almost knocking over the candle his mom got him for Christmas years ago that he had only lit once.

“Yello?” Steve chimed, pressing the phone to his shoulder as he adjusted the watch on his wrist. He kept forgetting to puncture another hole in the leather to make it more snug.

“Harrington, what’s up, man?” Eddie let out a breathy chuckle from the opposing end, making Steve check his calendar across his room. He usually came to their place on Tuesdays after his longest shifts and on the weekends, but he panicked that he forgot an event.

“Uh, just hanging out, ‘bout to head to the post office.” He hums, pressing his lips to a line, preparing himself for the scream he’s about to receive when Eddie reveals whatever he may have forgotten, “What about you?”

“Cool.” Eddie cuts his friend off, clearing his throat, “Remember that conversation we had like three weeks ago? She said yes, I told her you’d appear on a random day, I didn’t want her to be nervous.”

The thud within Steve’s stomach must have been picked up on the opposing line, his fingers halting their work at picking off the plastic covering of the coil connected to the phone. The only thing making him know this was real was Eddie’s grainy breathing in his ear through the shitty speaker.

“I’ll be right over.” He declares, putting the phone down harsher than intended, standing up quickly to grab his box of condoms from his bedside drawer. His anxiety riddled brain begins to overanalyze, how many condoms do you bring to a threesome? What if they all break as he puts them on and has to do a walk of shame to the gas station to get more? What if you’re allergic to latex and have a bad reaction?

As he made his way to his car, he felt himself clam up as the worst outcomes infiltrated. What if this is a joke? Eddie luring him over, just to laugh at his anticipation to watch his girlfriend get fucked. He could tell the whole town how Steve Harrington is a cuck, a lustful heathen watching young women get pleasured. But then he rationalized that, who would Eddie tell? He had a loud mouth, but most tuned him out and he didn’t hang out with many people who would actually give a shit.

They were his best friends, they shit on him, but never intentionally made him feel bad. You had seen him at some of his lowest points, only providing comfort and a joke to lighten the mood. It would be a complete contrast to the girl he’s known for years.

His car pulled into the apartment complex, waving at the guard reading a newspaper who stood post daily. His typical spot beside your car was open as he backed in, placing his hand on the passenger seat to look behind himself, easing into the compact space. His car jolted to a stop as he turned off the engine, remaining in his seat belt for a moment, unable to believe he was here for this reason.

On autopilot he approached your door, softly knocking as he rocked back and forth against your doormat. The black font spelled Welcome, recalling how you dragged him along to buy furniture and decor for your place when you moved in.

“Hey man.” Eddie smiles, swinging the door open and letting his friend in. Steve nodded and slipped off his shoes, noticing the sound of running water from the bathroom, “You still wanna do this right? If not just say the word, I don’t want to fuck up-”

“I wanna do it.” Steve assures a bit too firmly, face reddening which makes Eddie laugh, going to the couch and sitting down. Steve followed, grabbing the blue throw pillow and placing it in his lap.

“Alright, here’s the plan. She’s in the shower and still doesn’t know you’re here. She’s had a few rough days at work and needs to destress, so I’m gonna get her started and make sure she’s in a good headspace before you come in.” Eddie explains, more serious than most saw of him, “I’ll signal you, thumbs up or down for which direction this is heading. If she doesn’t want to today, just head out like normal, but if she does, don’t hesitate to back away during it. Neither of us will be offended, if she gets upset, it’s just because she’s in a headspace and I’ll handle it, nothing’s gonna change our friendship.”

Steve nodded as Eddie spoke, feeling more relaxed at his reassurance, comforted at his thought into it and how he accounted for everyone. He could tell Eddie was a bit nervous as he bit at his lip, playing with his rings by twisting them back and forth, the skin beneath becoming the shade of a strawberry. When the water turned off, he gave Steve a nod before walking down the hall to the bedroom, leaving the door open just an inch. The bathroom was connected, meaning you wouldn’t notice the opened door or Steve, just Eddie sitting on the bed nonchalantly.

“Hey pretty girl, c’mere.” Eddie cooed, signaling you over in just your towel as you opened the door, hair down and dry as you washed it the day previous.

Pulling your body close to his, you melted to his embrace, relishing in his soft shirt and strong arms. You had never felt comfort like how you did with Eddie, that peace could be contained in such an eccentric package. His lips pressed lightly against your damp skin, down your collarbone to your shoulder.

Tossing your head backwards, you barely noticed as he slipped off your towel, letting it fall down into a heap of beige. He met your lips with his, cradling your cheek with his palm, twisting to let you lay against the blanket. Yanking off his shirt quickly, he met you again, his tongue slipping behind your teeth.

With your thighs at his sides, he rubbed his jean clad crotch against your bare cunt, making you mewl into his mouth. He scooted down between your legs, rubbing soothingly against your plush skin.

He could have gone all in, eating you out like he was starving, but he knew something more effective at this moment. He was delicate, pressing gentle kisses to your lower lips until you whimpered. He sucked on your folds, avoiding your clit to keep you needy, seeing your hands clench at your sides.

The salacious sounds flowed into the living room where Steve sat, keeping his gaze on the door for his signal, but his cheeks became crimson. It felt like an invasion, hearing two people pleasure each other, even though he was invited. He had been in this home more times than he could count, but he noticed the chips in the paint on the wall or the small stain in the carpet as he tried anything to avoid thinking of you spread out.

“Eddie, please.” Steve heard from the bedroom, followed by the squeaking of the mattress and the male voice shushing you. He tried to rub some pain away from his crotch, biting his lip at the brief relief, but yanking his hand away as he heard your moans get louder until you cried out.

It went quiet as Eddie’s upwards thumb came into view, the reality officially settling in as Steve approached the door. Stepping inside, he saw you naked on all fours upon the messy bed, facing the right side of the bed. His breath hitched at the sight, your eyes already spacy and only focusing on your boyfriend who stood with your chin in hand, wearing only a pair of black boxers.

“Now sweetheart,” He began, summoning Steve over, “Are you going to be a good girl for our guest and me?” You nodded fiercely, only aiming to make him happy in this blissful state, making him chuckle as he dropped his grasp. “Alright, get him started.”

Steve wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but you apparently did, sitting up and pulling off his sweater. You were at eye level when you looked the other way, waiting for the approval of your partner before you met your best friend's lips. The kiss was tentative, his movement hesitant as he felt someone watch, but he soon fell into the touch.

He held your cheek, deepening the kiss and stepping closer. Your mouth was minty and warm as his tongue crossed the border, exploring the uncharted territory he had fantasized about. Your hands reached his belt, undoing the metal buckle and unzipping his jeans. Your palm rubbed against his growing erection, making him moan into you before biting your lower lip.

With a small trail of spit, you pulled away and moved to the floor to sit on your haunches. Yanking his trousers and underwear to the floor, you averted to Eddie, taking his remaining clothes off. You licked your hand to gently tug at Steve’s cock as your mouth was occupied with your boyfriends length.

Their groans almost harmonized as they got harder under your touch, finding power within the submissiveness. A firm hand came to your head to push the cock further down your throat, gagging briefly as you sucked in a breath through your nose. Switching the placement, you felt Steve twitch when your lips met his tip, swirling your tongue around the smooth skin.

“Fuck.” Steve whispered, his stomach clenching as you bobbed your head, your hand moving in a similar motion against Eddie. He found too much pleasure watching his girlfriend blow their best friend, but it made him hard and it only increased as he realized how much consensual power he had in the scenario.

He grasped your wrist, moving it so he could move lower, squatting beside you. As you reached the end of Steve’s dick, Eddie yanked you off as you squeaked, his hand threaded into your hair. He made a soft tsking noise, shaking his head with a shit eating grin.

“On the bed.” He instructed, assuming your previous position on all fours as he sauntered behind you, grabbing a condom from the bedside table. He nodded at you as you began to suck Steve’s dick once more.

Eddie stroked himself inside the plastic and slid his head through your wet folds, watching the tip get shiny. He smirked, pressing into your cunt as you moaned, a low vibration surrounding your invaded throat. When you came up for air, Eddie laughed to both you and Steve’s surprise.

“Now, now, don’t be shy. Tell Stevie what you’re really thinking about,” Eddie taunted, watching embarrassment flood to your face as Steve looked downwards in confusion, meeting the man's eyes next, “Are you gonna tell Stevie? Hm?”

Looking back at Eddie with a wobbly lip, Steve felt his heart twist and subconsciously brought his hand to your cheek to rub it soothingly. Steve wasn’t used to seeing his friend be a bit of a dick, mocking and belittling you, but there was still so much care. And you clearly enjoyed it, finding peace within the world he made for you behind the wooden door and concrete walls. Eddie laced his fingers into your hair, smirking as you looked up at the man before you.

“Go on, tell Stevie how you’ve been dreaming about his balls in your mouth.” Eddie taunted as his friend grew a cheshire smile, biting his lip to prevent his own laugh.

“Want ‘em, baby?” Steve lured, moving closer with his erection by your face as he lazily stroked it, blossoming red. All you could muster was a whine, launching forward to suck on one of his most sensitive places.

Stars appeared before Steve as your hand moved to jerk him off as your mouth went to work beneath it. Eddie’s thrusts picked up momentum with a smack to your ass, rubbing the skin tenderly as you moaned.

“Fuckin’ loves it, man. Practically begs for my balls.” Eddie musters out, flicking his gaze up as both held condescending smirks, “Loves when you press them on her face or… on her pussy.” With his last words, Eddie pressed them against your folds, clit feeling his warm skin as you cried out.

Shortly after, Eddie pulled away, tilting his head to signal their partner away too. When he got a good look at you, Steve really realized what Eddie meant. Your eyes were glossy, lips hanging open and doing whatever you were instructed. He was snapped from his daze when a condom flew at his chest, fumbling to grab it before it hit the ground.

Eddie held up the box, showing the sizing that was a match for Steve’s, so he opened it, putting it on with a grunt as he felt sensitive. You laid down horizontally on the mattress, Eddie by your head and Steve by your feet. Eddie hadn’t come yet, but pulled away the condom, knowing he was about to enter your mouth.

“Hey, look at me.” Eddie commanded gently, squatting to meet your eyes as you looked in a haze, “Focus for a second, baby.” Steve went stagnant, releasing himself from his grasp and rubbing small circles on your hip.

“Now, your hand stays on my thigh at all times, okay?” Eddie asks, awaiting your nod. Giving head in this position, him above you with your nose covered by his skin, was glorious, but made him anxious. He didn’t play around when it came to things like this, knowing how ditsy you can get and the lack of oxygen it can cause if you couldn’t signal him.

“I want you to tap my thigh once for Yes or Good, then twice for No or Bad. If you need to call Yellow or Red, smack me as hard as you can.” He instructed, smoothing your hair back from your forehead, “I need to hear you say it, pretty girl.”

“Once for yes, twice for no, smack for red.” You whispered, reaching behind you for his hips and he grabbed your wrists.

Giving you a warning glare, you slinked them down, resting them on your warm tummy.

“If your hand leaves me or you don’t respond, Steve and I both pull away.” He addressed, making you whimper, “It won’t happen if you do those two things.”

Nodding, you sniffled subconsciously, looking into your devoting boyfriend's eyes with a small smile. He stroked your cheek sweetly for a moment, kissing you upside down, mumbling a sweet ‘I love you’.

While Steve had never seen this side of Eddie, he knew it had to have existed as you were a fairly emotional person. It wasn’t anything abnormal, you just felt things intensely in general.

He kneeled on the bed, glancing at your face and observing as he slid himself inside. He knew that as soon as he heard your moanful gasp, that it would remain on repeat in his brain far longer than it should. Inching himself in with a shaky breath, he held onto your plush hip, relishing in the soft noises leaving your mouth.

Straddling over your face, your hand resting on Eddie's thigh, he pushed his tip inside your lips. He moaned at the vibrations around his cock as you made muted noises, biting his own lip and clenching his eyes.

The pleasure you felt was all consuming, feeling full by your best friend and the warmth of your boyfriend on your face with the rest of him using your throat to get off. Spit pooled to the top of your mouth, coming down your chin, feeling Eddie’s thumb rub some on your lips.

Eddie’s hand went down to squeeze your breast, toying with the nipple to evoke shivers. Your brain had drifted away, senses overloaded to a state of bliss beyond comprehension as they utilized your body for what they desired. When Steve’s fingers reached your bundle of nerves, your legs began to shake, whimpers struggling to surface.

Hands from both ends stroked your soft skin gently, attempting to calm you down. But part of Eddie was losing his mind, watching you be pleased by another man, but a part of him couldn’t look away. His gaze lingered at your cunt being filled, but Steve’s eye’s couldn’t tear away from seeing the outline of Eddie’s cock through your neck.

“Hand. One warning.” Eddie grunted after your hand had fallen to your sides, too immersed in your head to remember the one rule instructed to you. The muffled squeak could be heard as it flew back to his tattoo, gluing itself to the detailed ink.

The squelching of your arousal was filling the room, Steve throwing back his head, pushing some of his brown locks away. The position was good, but he wanted more, letting his hands flow from your hips to your knees.

In a swift motion, he bent them, holding your thighs down to fuck you deeper, making sure his balls hit the bottom of your pussy. Eddie laughed as you yelped, taking an opportunity to thrust faster down your throat, making you gag.

Maybe there should have been more shame in how much pleasure you received from being manhandled, especially by two people, but their gentle touches felt far more erotic than anything else.

Starving off an orgasm, Eddie slowed down, making the strokes longer, nuzzling down to the hilt. His mouth hung open, eyes fluttering for a moment before opening in front of him to see Steve, who looked at where the two of you met. When Steve looked up to see Eddie’s blissed out grin, he blushed, lips parted slightly.

As Eddie relished in the pleasure, he felt your hand beginning to slip before falling to the sides, giving you a few seconds to see if it was an accident, before pulling away abruptly. Steve noticed and backed away too, softening his gaze at your bashful and frazzled demeanor.

“No, wait, please.” You mumbled, throat growing slightly raw as you tried to sit up, but Eddie walked to the side, dragging you to sit up by your armpits. He can see the way your thighs are clenching, adjusting in discomfort with wide eyes.

“We’re gonna try something else, okay?” He soothed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb before kissing you. Steve felt himself growing weaker as he neared his end, cock blossoming a bright red, and opted to take a seat on the bed. Eddie had turned away to grab a fresh rubber, “Get on top of him, baby.”

After receiving the instructions, you followed them by straddling Steve and kissing him. The hormones were flowing with more intensity as you ached for an orgasm while he hoped he’d at least last a bit longer.

“Fuck her, Harrington.” Eddie’s voice boomed as he approached, his knees on the bed as he went behind you. Without hesitation, Steve angled himself to your entrance and slid his tip inside. You gasped between kisses, sinking down on it with little resistance as due to the gravity and his hands guiding your waist..

Meeting your hips halfway, Steve moaned at the feeling of you on his cock and Eddie watching with a stoic expression. You threw your head back as a wave of brief pleasure coaxed you, not quite at your peak before getting closer.

Through the movements, Eddie reached to his drawer, pulling your preferred lube choice and put some onto his hand. He grabbed himself, making sure his length was well covered and dragged his damp finger against your other hole. He felt your body shutter at the delicate touch, this being something fairly new for you both, and never doing it at the same time as classical penetration.

A loud gasp sent your lips away from Steve’s, making his brows furrowed in confusion until he saw your boyfriends focus downward. Steve hushed you, holding your head against his neck to let you cry out, body tensing at the sudden sensation of the man behind you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. You’re doing so good.” Eddie assured, being as delicate as he could as he inched his way inside. Every vein and ridge felt so prominent within the canal of your holes, closing your eyes to focus on the way they both felt.

Your barely audible cries made both men feel guilty, Steve stroking your hair and Eddie rubbing your back. The safe word or colors hadn’t been utilized, so they knew they weren’t going over any limits, but the tears falling down your cheeks weren’t easy to witness.

He reached a point where most of himself was inserted in your ass, beginning to thrust subtly to test the waters, putting a few drops of lubrication to where you connected for some extra help.

“You’re okay, honey, we gotcha.” Steve moved his hand between your bodies, finding your clit to rub small circles against the needy bud. The pleasure helped ease the ache from both men inside, nails digging into his tan shoulder. It was a few minutes later when you finally mewled, the sensitivity of your body finally meeting the pleasure they were proposing, feeling their tips reach a point inside you.

“There she is, there’s my girl. Doin’ so good, baby.” Eddie praised, holding your hips still to let him control the pace, also giving his friend more leeway to thrust up into you. The spurts of satisfaction became more frequent as all three of you grew more comfortable, gaining a rhythm.

“Feel so good, sweetheart, fuck. Better than I imagined.” Steve blurted, resting his forehead against yours as his hands multitasked between your chest and between your legs.

The sensation was overstimulating, penetrating the most intimate of places with pain and pleasure. The world around you seemed to turn to television static, aware of it, but with no concept of what truly was going on.

With your cheek pressed against Steve’s cheek, your mouth hung open to release small squeaks, a few tears still trickling as the pain slowly subsided. You curled your toes that were pressed against the comforter, a reminder of your physical presence.

The reminder must have not been clear enough as both men pulled out abruptly, the sudden emptiness startling you with a whimper that was quickly hushed. Eddie sat against the pillows, pulling your back to his chest, pressing a few short kisses to your neck and lips with small words of encouragement.

Yanking your legs across, you were spread out against Eddie’s lap as he re-entered your ass, the insertion much quicker than before, making you wincereleased a sob. Eddie tilted your face towards him, hushing you calmly. Steve moved towards you on both knees, preparing to slip inside, but became transfixed on your glistening pussy.

His mouth met your cunt, lapping up your messy arousal from your puffy folds. Shivers ran down your spine as you focused on his tongue, balancing with the ache of Eddie’s cock inside. Steve’s mouth reached your clit, slipping two fingers inside to curl upwards, finding a familiar spot that made you moan.

“Don’t come yet.” Eddie commanded and felt your body tense against him, nodding with a bitten lip. He would typically make you verbally agree, but he knew the whole situation was fairly intense, so he wasn’t going to get hung up on minor details.

“Didn’t think you’d be so cruel, Munson. Especially not with this cute little cunt.” Steve smirked, rising back to his knees as his mouth glistened with your arousal.

The vulgarity falling from his lips was due to comfort, realizing he could also join Eddie in the game with boundaries. He watched his friend roll his eyes with a laugh while Steve slid in quickly, making you gasp.

There was a hitch in your throat, coughing it through as you tried to regulate your breathing. The new position had you more revealed, Eddie’s hands holding your knees far apart and propositioning you completely exposed to their guest.

“Kiss please.” You mumbled, attempting to get closer to Steve’s face, which made him laugh.

“You have two cocks inside you and still need more?” He sassed, instantly regretting it as your face fell and Eddie glared, “I’m just kidding, baby, c’mere.” His lips met yours fast, absorbing every second of passion between you both.

Eddie kissed along your neck, still ignoring the jealousy he had over your exchange with their friend, but reminding himself he knew you like no one else did. Like how he knew it took a lot for you to ask for specific things when you were vulnerable, something he’d definitely need to mention to Steve.

A burn began to strike in your lower gut, broiling as they increased their movements, the sounds of wet skin hitting one another as your slick and the lubricant covered both of them. Steve’s thumb met the bundle of nerves between your legs again, ruthlessly swirling the pad of his finger against it with no mercy.

The pleas from your mouth didn’t commute as your jaw fell open, a shaky hand attempting to ease some of the pressure below, but they only increased their intensity. They could see you falling apart with little regard, their own balls tensing at the approaching orgasm, but they weren’t done with you yet.

“Off please.” You mumbled to Eddie, his brows furrowed in concentration, catching your gaze as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“No baby, not tonight,” He whispered, which ignited a whine that he quieted, “You’re being good sweetheart, just not tonight.”

Steve wondered what you were referencing, but found it pointless to question now as Eddie wasn’t allowing it. He glanced down to see himself slotted between your legs, a glistening mess that made his stomach clench. A deep moan left your stomach as you began to shake, crying out at the overstimulation and feeling yourself losing control.

Eddie’s ring clad hands seared into your hip, attaching his lips to your neck as Steve leaned in to snatch your lips. The kiss was fierce, desire overcoming all of you in mere moments as the finish line came in sight. Your boyfriend groaned and threw his head back as he came, body shaking as the tightness of your ass strangled him.

Somehow Steve managed to get you to finish before him, his fingers moving quickly against your clit until you cried out, letting himself release. He shivered against your chest, your nipples grazing across his damp skin, trying to use his free hand to hold himself up.

The whimper you released was inevitable as Steve slipped out, rolling to his side, and Eddie pulled out. The emptiness was jarring as you tried to come back down to Earth, a mixed set of emotions encompassing you as the boys helped you lay down, molding between them.

As the intense huffs subsided, your eyes fluttered open to see two sets of brown ones looking at you with affection. Eddie’s calloused thumb came to your cheek, wiping the stray tears that had slipped, and Steve’s firm hand rubbed your hip.

“You feelin’ okay, baby?” Eddie asked, tilting your head up, knowing eye contact can sometimes be difficult for you after intense sex. He can see your hazy look, blinking blankly and nodding slowly. “Let’s get you cleaned up then you can sleep, okay?”

The question didn’t need an answer as he pulled on his boxers, lifting your body up and carrying you bridal style across the hall as Steve picked up his boxers from the floor. He sat on the edge, stretching his back that he thought was pulled after the intense climax, but the exhaustion waved over him instead. Rubbing his eye lids, he lost track of time in his own daze, hearing the squeak of the bathroom door open. He looked up, Eddie smiled and raised his eyebrows quickly with you in his arms.

“She about fell asleep in there,” Eddie chuckled, “Stay the night, man. It’s getting late.” He told Steve, bending down to snatch his discarded shirt and put it on your body. Steve nodded, scooting back to his original placement on your right while Eddie went to your left.

The rustling made you squeak, just on the brink of slumber, nuzzling into the both of them. Hushing you, they both maneuvered the shirt onto your body, opting to forgo the panties due to your sensitivity. Your soft snores vibrated against Eddie’s chest, your bottom against Steve, as they laid on their backs.

“What did she want off?” Steve asked, breaking the silence, his friend looking over at him in confusion, “Towards the end. You said she was still good, but not now.”

A blush settled on Eddie’s cheeks, looking down at you and kissing your head. A laugh threatened to form as he tried to word it as clean as possible.

“She wanted the condoms off.” He replied, watching Steve’s eyes open wider, rubbing a hand on his face with a small sigh of disbelief. “We only do it every once in a while, for obvious reasons, but she usually asks for it when she’s small.”

“She’s gonna kill me.” Steve mumbled, making Eddie laugh with a yawn cutting him short, now yawning as well. He wasn’t sure what the morning would look like, but he didn’t have the energy to think about it, he was going to enjoy what the night had brought him.

He needed to start playing Go-Fish more.

hi! thank you for reading, mwah!

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moonhoures · 11 months

Text

That’s My Girl

🕷️ kinktober — day 18: mommy kink 🕸️

pairing: jihyo (twice) +reader (afab/fem.)

genre: non-idol!au, smut, fluff

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, wlw relationship, mommy kink, scissoring

word count: ~970

synopsis: your wife helps you relax after you had a bad day at work

posted: october 18, 2023

kinktober masterlist

Shitty days at work were unfortunately common for you. The insurance company you worked for was understaffed, and the few staff members you had weren’t exactly the brightest. As the department head, you had a lot of decisions to make, lots of responsibility. You often went home with weighted shoulders and headaches that even the strongest dose of medicine couldn’t seem to get rid of. Sometimes you wouldn’t get home until it was dark out, pulling overtime.

It was a Thursday night, and you had (once again) come home hours late. Your wonderful wife had already ate the dinner she prepared and saved your share in the refrigerator after you had sent her a text saying you wouldn’t be home in time to enjoy it. You trudged through the house, feeling absolutely drained. Your bedroom door opened to reveal the soft, golden glow of your wife’s bedside lamp. She sat on her side of the bed, already bathed and dressed down in her pajamas. When she heard the door, her head tilted up and she greeted you with a smile that made the weight on your back feel a little lighter.

“Hi, love. How was work?” Jihyo asked you, sitting up straighter.

“Terrible as always, but I’m home now,” you shrugged with a smile, already peeling off your coat. You let it drop to the floor carelessly while your wife’s smile faltered. She turned the TV volume down, wanting to focus on her conversation with you. She listened to you go on and on about work and how annoying it was. How much stress you were under every day, and how you were tired of it all. Her eyes followed you as you went to the bathroom, and she watched you pull your hair down from the clip you held it in all day. You cleaned off your face and rubbed in your favorite moisturizer. You stripped down to your undergarments and walked around the room, still venting about work as you picked out what pajama set you would wear after your bath.

And as you paused to gather your thoughts, you stopped at the side of your bed to put your phone on its charger. Jihyo smiled gently at you, admiring how cute you looked when you were mad. The crease forming between your brows and the subtle pout to your lips was adorable.

“I’m sorry, honey. Remember, the holidays are coming up. And after you get your bonus, you can look for a new job!” Your wife was always one to see the positives in everything. The one to remind you that the grass is greener on the other side of any tough situation you faced. You were beyond grateful for her.

“I know, love. It’s just- I have to get through the now before the holidays,” you laughed softly, shaking your head as you sighed heavily. When you met your wife’s eyes again, there was a new expression in them.

“Maybe we can take your mind off of work for a little while?”

The question was innocent, but the events that took place after were not so innocent. Jihyo had mastered the art of being a wonderful wife, and one of the things she was best at was caring for you—in every sense of the word. She knew how to make you feel better in any way she could. And right now, she decided love making was the best way to clear your mind.

So she laid you down on the bed, parting your legs for herself to slot between them. And once her pelvis was seated over yours, she began rocking her hips. Your folds grew slick under her own, the skin rubbing against each other.

“How does that feel, baby? Is it just what you needed?” she asked you, using her free hand to push her hair out of her face as she looked down at you. Your eyes were shut so you could focus on the pleasurable high you were chasing, but you nodded.

“Uh huh,” you choked out, hands gripping desperately at her thigh. She smiled at your eagerness, hurrying her pace as she started to feel her own release building up. She loved scissoring with you, and she especially loved being on top. Though there were no specific roles in your relationship, she did secretly enjoy being the “leader”. She liked having someone to rely on her. She liked being the one to make decisions. She liked taking the weight off your shoulders and helping you whenever and however she could. It made her feel powerful and needed.

“Are you gonna let go and cum for mommy?” she asked you, grinding her weeping cunt against yours. She groaned as your clits touched over and over, sending electricity throughout your bodies.

“Yes. Yes. Yes, oh-,” your words were cut off as you were overwhelmed with pleasure. Jihyo’s pussy slid against yours, sending you reeling as she stared down at you with the most wicked glint in her eye. Like she knew she was doing everything right, and she loved watching you snap.

Your hands reached up, pawing at her voluptuous breasts until she mercifully leaned down to kiss your neck. This gave you easier access to knead and play with her boobs, your palms squishing her sensitive nipples. The little moans and whines she let out by your ear only made you wetter, and she could feel it. She was doing it on purpose.

“That’s my girl,” she cooed, kissing your jaw, “Cumming for mommy when you’re told. So proud of you.”

You smiled into the kiss she graced your lips with, melting underneath her. Every ounce of worry and any stressful thought in your mind was gone. She knew her job was done, and successfully so.

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite @k-drizzle @iguanas-world

#twice smut #jihyo smut #park jihyo smut #twice fanfic #twice imagines #twice scenarios #twice x reader #[🕷️] kinktober 23 #jihyo fanfic #jihyo imagines #jihyo scenarios #jihyo x reader #twice hard hours #girl group smut #kpop smut

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just-some-random-blogger · 2 months

Text

Snow Angel

Jacaerys' Version

I'll angel in the snow until I'm worthy but if it kills me, I tried.

Gwyane's Version ❄ Daemon's Version ❄ Aegon's Version ❄ Aemond's Version ❄ Jacaerys' Version ❄ Cregan's Version ❄ Criston's Version

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen!Reader | 800< | cw: fem!reader, targcest, reader is aemond's twin, angst, violence, blood, war, death, typos, etc.

A/N: renee rapp my beloved. jacaerys and aemond's version go hand in hand

You remember talking about running away with Jace when you were kids. You told him about your plans to pack your dresses, flee on your dragon, and live off lemon cakes. You cried when he laughed at you and swore never to speak to him again.

But then he did what he did best and cast your worries away. He panicked, unintending to cause you sadness, then made a fool of himself until he got you to smile. And when you did, he promised to himself never to make you cry again.

"Why do you want to run away anyway?" Jacaerys asks after you were calmer, finding a place beside you on the grass on which you sat.

You wipe your nose on your sleeve and give him a look, "is it really not obvious?"

He grows a bit nervous. He internally denies it's because he's made you cry.

"You are like teasing Aemond," you turn to your shoes, "Aemond likes teasing me-"

"He does?"

You turn back to him.

"Then I will fight him for it."

"But that's the problem Jace!" you feel your lips quiver, "it's all so horrid. I don't like how you fight," you pull on the grass, "I don't like how he fights me. I don't like fighting."

For a moment, Jacaerys feels guilty. He regrets arguing with Aemond... but then again, he deserved it.

"I don't understand," you speak quietly, "we're twins. I am his half and he is mine. We shared the same womb and yet he acts like we share nothing in common..." your voice becomes shaky, "why does he dislike me so?"

Gods, he so deserved it.

You muse to him about other things your wretched twin brother has done to you, and this becomes your ritual. Every time you are together, you vent to him, and he listens. But one day, his family leaves King's Landing and, again, he does the thing he's promised he'd never do: he made you cry.

He writes to you every week after leaving. He tells you how much he misses you. He tells you how much he misses your laugh, your bad jests, even your dolls, and how Vermax was lonely without your dragon to fly with.

And so one day, in your reply, you ask to fly with him in secret. You ask to meetup somewhere no one would think to look for either of you, then you spend the day enjoying each other's company. None would know about your whereabouts but each other.

But then your family fractured, there was them and there was you, and both found each other opposite sides. One day, you simply could not take it, so you wrote to him: meet me in our secret place.

In truth, you did not expect him to show, but when he did, you were relieved to see him... until he opened his mouth.

"What do you want from me, Aunt?" Jacaerys spoke.

You knit your brows, "what?"

"Have you come to surrender? To pledge yourself to the one true Queen?"

You shake your head in disbelief of what you were hearing. You walk towards him, "Jace, I-"

"She will accept you," he says, "she will accept all of you. You need just bend the-"

"Run away with me," you press your hand to his chest.

He stares at you, nostrils flaring, line forming between his brows.

You rapidly shake your head, "you know that's all I've ever wanted. To be done and rid of this bother."

Jacaerys takes your hand and whispers your name, "you know tis not that simple."

"We can make it simple. Let us ride off and-"

"You have a duty to your family, as do I."

"And what of the duty to our hearts?" you clutch his hand. His jaw clenches. You mutter, "there is no greater duty than fulfilling that of what's borne from love."

He does not respond to you. Your eyes search his. Your grip tightens. He releases you. Soon he's breaking his promise all over again. Tears spill over as you pull away from him, "am I not worthy enough of even this?"

He calls your name as you step back. Before he can speak, his attention is taken by the sky and the loud sound of flapping dragon wings. It was unmistakably Vhagar.

You are unable to keep him from riding off and facing the gargantuan. You look up and watch your brother unleash his fury upon him. You knew better than to get in the way, but you would not have Jacaerys killed when you were the one who called him here in the first place.

You get on your mount and do your best to catch Aemond's attention. You scream and shout but to no avail, not until your dragon knocks into the tail of your twin's.

You did not expect him to be so angry. You did not expect him to attack you. You could do nothing as you watched your dragon choke in the maw of your brother's ride. The sound of your own screams deafen you, and so you hear not the sound of him screaming out your name.

And as you descend from the height, Jacaerys is mortified. He commands Vermax to catch you, and he tries his best, but even his best was not enough to save you from your end.

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys fanfic #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys fluff #jacaerys angst #jacaerys fic #jacaerys velaryon fluff #jacaerys velaryon angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon angst

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mythicmanuscripts · 1 month

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Hello, Sea, how are you? I hope your migraine is gone and you're fully recovered from it 💖

If you don't mind me being super self indulgent, I really sad at the moment, so I'll ask how hotd boys would try to cheer wife if she was down.

Thank you for sharing your qork with us, it always make me happy to read

I'm doing much better now thanks! Unfortunately I'm just someone who gets migraines occasionally and there's not much I can do about them, but I'm feeling much better.

Anyway, I love this question! I'm gonna write a little bit about our three main lads. This whole answer was supposed to be SFW but then I reached aegon and well... he's Aegon. So needless to say, I've had to put a cut in

JACAERYS:

So the first thing to note about Jace is how good his memory is? He always remembers all the things you tell him. He takes careful note of the things you like and the things you don't, and also he learns how you act when you're upset and what can upset you.

So he will notice almost immediately when you're feeling down and he will always try to help. Jace just wants you to be happy and healthy and so he will literally drop whatever it is that he's doing to try and help you. And if someone else needs him to be doing something else, he will distracted the entire time because he can't stop thinking about you and about what he can do to try and help you.

His go to method is to bring you your favourite flowers or wine or treats or whatever. If there's anything you have mentioned you really like in the past few weeks then he'll make sure to get that as well. He also just won't leave your side? Sure you can be in a bad mood and sulk all day if you want, but you certainly can't do that alone he won't let you.

AEMOND:

So I actually think realising you're feeling down would be genuinely distressing for Aemond? Especially if it's something he has absolutely no control of. He has no idea what to do, no idea how to make this better. His entire being is centred around making you happy and pleasing you and now you're upset and he feels like he failed. Even if whatever is upsetting you has absolutely nothing to do with him and can't be changed, he'll still feel like a failure.

He usually ends up asking you what you need. He would do whatever you want to make this better. No request would be too big. He would make anything work to make you happier. And you do have to actually give him something to do because if you don't he will be paralysed and not know what to do.

Needless to say, if he thinks there's even the smallest chance of someone having caused your distress then that person's days are numbered.

AEGON:

The moment Aegon realises you arent as happy as you usually are, he immediately asks you who needs to die. You always just roll your eyes and make him promise he won't set the kings guard on anyone, but he still might do it anyway.

When you inform him that no, he can't just murder every person to mildly inconvenience you, he sighs and then proceeds to promptly ask you if he can go down on you. Aegon's horny little gremlin mind literally goes, "Oh I can't kill someone? Fine, can I eat you out?"

Aegon will try his best to help in his own chaotic little way. Of course he will ask you what's wrong and listen to you, but to be honest he's one of the worst people to vent to. You'll say someone is making your life difficult and aegon is just like 'oh I'll have them killed' like no, no aegon don't do that.

Oh and also, he will cancel his appearances that day without a second thought if you're distressed. He could not care less about all the lords and ladies who travelled far and wide to see him, his pretty wife is upset so obviously the entire kingdom must come to a standstill until you feel better.

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aureatchi · 11 months

Text

˚୨୧ ｡ ˚ IT WAS A NIGHT TO REMEMBER . — osamu dazai

⟢ SYNOPSIS. after a long week of work, you and your best friend retreat to a bar to distract yourself from your responsibilities. however, you find it unfulfilling and decide you need to just go home. as you head out the door, you bump into someone more than familiar.

a/n. it’s the way i immediately thought of him when i first heard this song. <3

info. fem!reader. exes to lovers!au. we have the full recipe…fluff; light angst; gets really sugg. mentions of drinking; scars. your best friend hates dazai. hc dazai doesn’t bandage his tummy. (ᗒᗜᗕ) ﾉ wc. 3.6k

“It’s just a lot.”

You just finished the final shift of your job for the week, and you were more than exhausted and burnt out. You had called your best friend immediately after to get some comfort, and despite how busy she was, she agreed to meet you for some drinks and listen to you rant.

“My coworker’s getting on my last nerve,” you continued venting. You had already told her about select crappy people you had to interact with during the day and then your boss, who regarded you with no empathy whatsoever. “Today’s already been bad enough, and then she decides to just pile more stress on me.”

You swished the ice around your emptied glass, creating clanking sounds while coating the cup in water.

“Maybe you should just quit,” your friend replied, taking a sip out of her glass. “I would’ve been long gone if I had to deal with annoying people all around, nine to five.”

She looked up at you. “Besides, you’re well off anyway. I don’t see why you’re working. Are you…trying to distract yourself?”

You sighed. She knew you too well.

“Love, don’t tell me you’re still hung up over—“

“It’s not what you think,” you cut her off, yet you avoided eye contact. It was easier to lie that way. “I just feel I’d have too much free time on my hands. I’m not sure what I’d do with it.”

You let out a dry chuckle. That wasn’t wholly false in itself, either. At your age, everyone had their own things going on—your best friend being an example. Therefore, you couldn’t find much time to go out with any of your friends, and you weren’t interested in meeting new people either.

You could blame your job. Perhaps the ones you meet every day put a sour taste on your tongue, making you lose any desire to interact with strangers. You could blame your exhaustion. Or…

“Honestly, I think that calls for someone new in your life,” your friend replied. “That’ll surely cure your boredom.”

“No thanks. I don’t feel like dating anyone right now.”

“I’m just kidding,” she laughed. “But it’d help you feel less lonely, no?”

“…you didn’t believe my answer to your earlier question, huh?”

“No. Of course not.”

It had been over five months since you broke up with your boyfriend. You tried seeing people after that, but in truth, you were only using them to try to move on.

Once you realized that it wasn’t working and it wasn’t fair for others to play with feelings, you decided to take on a new job on the other side of the city so you’d still get out of your house and have a change of scene.

“…But you know what? Screw him. I will keep saying again and again, I hate that man. Suicidal maniac. I know it’s hard, but you’re too hot to keep dwelling on this. You need to learn to move o—”

Your friend’s phone suddenly buzzed, interrupting her little lecture.

She picked it up, and you waited for her to finish speaking.

“I’m sorry, I think I got to go. I left my boyfriend with my cat, and he just told me he lost her already…” she shook her head. “Have you gotten out everything you wanted to say?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you replied. “I think I’ll go home soon, too. Not really feeling it.”

She stood up, handing you a bill with a smile. “Drinks on me tonight. Don’t complain—I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. And we didn’t order much anyway.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate you coming to listen to me anyway,” you replied.

“The offer is still open, by the way! If you want to find someone, I’ll schedule a date by this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever. Thanks.”

…

You only had one more drink before you decided to leave, still mostly sober—you figured it’d just be best if you’d take care of yourself at home.

Another thing your job was also distracting you from was witnessing all the relationships around you. Your friend had to go home for her boyfriend. You noticed a few couples at the bar you were at. You’d probably see more when you walked outside.

Not that you minded, is what you tried to tell yourself every single time. You didn’t have to be with someone. It’s okay to have a break.

But was it okay to still have a particular person at the back of your head all the time?

You stood up, leaving the bill and tip for your bartender before you walked toward the door. Opening it caused the bell attached to it to jingle. You were greeted by a cool, night breeze—and someone’s torso.

“O-Oh, sorry,” you replied, too tired to even catch the face of the person you bumped into.

But you had no choice when the man didn’t move out of the doorframe to walk in or allow you to pass.

So, when you met the almost-surprised, caramel-kissed eyes on a face framed with dark brown bangs and wavy hair, you felt your heart plunge into your stomach.

You whispered his name—almost scared to say it, the syllables feeling foreign from not having spoken it aloud for months.

“…Osamu.”

He was halfway through saying your name when you dashed for the exit, shoving him aside and speed-walking out.

“Wait! Bel—“ he caught himself and shouted your name once more.

You started walking down the parking lot, unsure of where you were trying to go, except away—away from Dazai. You had forgotten this bar was in the heart of the city. You didn’t know Dazai came to this one, but you knew his work was somewhere close.

“Hey!” you felt a breeze behind your back, and then a hand gently land on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

“What…why are you following me?”

You turned around, getting your second full view of your ex for the night.

His hair was a bit longer. He still had those bandages on his neck—did he bother to change them out recently? His scent was as still as you remembered—grassy and toasty, a resemblance to green tea.

“I’m not sure why I’d leave a girl I know to walk alone at night,” he shrugged. “It’s dangerous!”

You continued walking, not responding to his reply.

“Where are we going?”

“Who’s we?”

“Aw, that was really rude.”

You ignored Dazai, making sure your stroll stayed a few feet in front of him.

You then entered a park, him trailing behind you.

“Why were you at the bar alone?”

“That’s none of your business.” You walked down the path, trees casting dark shadows onto the grass under the moon’s light.

“…And I wasn’t alone the entire time. I was with a friend, but she left to attend something.”

Dazai nodded, trying to catch up to your face. You immediately gave him more than enough space when he reached you, not wanting any invasion of your personal space.

“But you usually don’t drink unless you’re either celebrating or stressed,” he said. “And from what I’ve seen, it looks like the latter.”

You stopped again. “Again, it’s none of your business. Maybe you should focus on yours. You go and drink tons when you’re stressed, too.”

“Hey, I’ve actually gotten better at that…”

“You still ended up at a bar midweek.”

“But I didn’t even go in, no? I’m with you at a park right now.”

You were silent once again. But now you couldn’t complain that he was following you.

Why do I care if he drinks or not?

No. It’s normal. You’d care for the well-being of anyone you know.

You approached a set of swings in the center of the park. It had been ages since you’d been on one, swinging back and forth in carefree.

“Want me to push you?” you heard Dazai over your shoulder when you examined the equipment.

“Heck no,” you responded.

“Why not? It’d be fun!” He moved closer.

“No! I’m not sure if it’d even carry me,” you laughed. “It’s for kids.”

“You can try it. Just sit. And I’ll catch you if it breaks—“

“Shut up. I can catch myself.” You lowered yourself onto the seat, seeing that the metal poles did hold. You swung yourself a bit to test if it’d keep up your weight.

“It works.”

“Great! Can I push you now?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I won’t kill you, bel—I won’t! I promise.” Dazai childishly held out a pinkie toward you.

You sighed. “Fine. Just please don’t push me too high.” You clasped your pinkie around his.

“I got you!” You felt palms on your back, and then a light push that moved you forward, and then gravity pulled you back toward him.

Everything pulls me back to him—my mind and the universe both.

You were suddenly pushed higher, catching you off guard. You felt yourself fly multiple feet off of the ground, and you clutched the metal in panic.

“H-Help—Osamu!”

“You’re fine. You won’t fall,” Dazai chuckled. He pushed you again, sending you even higher than the previous time. You wanted to scream, but it came out more as a laugh.

“Is the thrill fun?” he asked while you were in the air, noticing your smile.

“Yeah, it is—HEY!”

Dazai had pushed you hard, sending you swinging all around the equipment, in a complete three-sixty.

“Osamu!” you cried, the momentum spinning you around once more. You couldn’t stop it—it was too fast.

You were clutched from behind, arms tightly wrapped around your torso to stop the swing. You could hear the sound of Dazai being dragged through the rocks below, but he was able to ground the both of you before you went flying again.

And you felt warm. Despite the evening’s cool air, you felt like you were encompassed in a fireplace’s heat on a winter day.

“Got you.”

You let out a giant exhale of relief. And then, you turned around in anger.

“I told you not to push me that high!”

“But I didn’t kill you, did I? You stayed on the swing the entire time! You were safe! Plus, I think you enjoyed it.”

You stood up, causing Dazai to let go of his arms. “I’m dizzy now.”

“Do you need water? We can buy some. And did you drive here?”

“No, I took a taxi.”

“Let me drive you home then,” he said.

“I think I’m fin—“

“Please,” he cut you off almost urgently, but then he caught his tone and reverted.

“I mean, many kidnappers disguise themselves as taxi drivers. Especially at night.”

“You’re still so cynical,” you replied. “Stop being so protective. It’s not like we’re…nevermind, sorry.”

You didn’t dare look at Dazai’s expression.

…

You each got a yogurt drink, and it helped soothe your dizziness immediately.

You walked by Dazai silently, but compared to earlier in the night, you were no longer repulsed to standing by him.

He opened his car door for you before getting in his seat on the other side.

“What have you been up to these past months?”

You asked as he found his keys, turning them into gear.

“A case. It’s something huge going on.”

Dazai’s work accounted for part of your breaking up with him. He was too secretive—despite you knew that he trusted you so much that he explained to you exactly what his job consisted of, and he only left details out to protect you from getting involved, you couldn’t handle it.

Maybe you were selfish for that. But you needed to know what your boyfriend was up to—if he was safe. Perhaps that was another reason why. You would never let him go if you knew of the exact danger he was volunteering himself in.

“I see. Sleeping okay?”

“If I do, sure.” He was suddenly reaching over your body, grabbing your seatbelt.

Your heartbeat fastened as Dazai hovered over you, pausing to look at anticipating eyes and a risky glance at slightly parted lips.

He sighed before fastening the buckle and moving away, acting like nothing happened.

…

You two drove in silence, you gazing out of the car window to admire how the city looked in the absence of the sun.

A song was suddenly put on. You looked at Dazai.

“Do you still like this song?”

“Yeah,” you replied. He had put on your favorite song, indeed.

You silently thanked him for it. The awkward tension to speak to one another had vanished; you could indulge yourself in music.

Until it ended, of course, but by then, you could see you were almost home.

“Osamu.”

“Yes?”

“This was a really bad idea. I hope I never see you again after this.”

“Probably, but maybe I wanted it to happen. Maybe I thought about you so much that I had to seize this opportunity.”

“What?”

“What if I hope to see you again after this?”

“You can go flirt with any other girl for entertainment.” He did a lot of that, too. Even if it was Dazai’s most efficient tactic for getting information, he had also said he simply couldn’t help it sometimes.

“I don’t find that interesting anymore.”

You looked at his distant, faint reflection through your window.

“…you think about me?”

You were answered with a nod.

Dazai turned, pulling you into your driveway.

“I’ll continue to even more after tonight,” he said. “Whether we see each other again or not. It plagues my mind every day. What I could’ve done better—how much you deserve that I failed to reach.”

He parked. “Of course, I’ve tried to move on. It’s the most fair thing to do for you. But if someone were to ask me, bella, saying that I don’t still love you would be a lie.”

“You’re selfish,” you commented.

“I know. I’m very.”

You opened the door, stepping out of the car.

“Thank you for driving me,” you said.

You walked towards your front door and then looked back at Dazai, who was standing by his side of the car.

You contemplated for a second.

“D-do you have something to do for the rest of the night?” you carefully asked.

“No.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit. We can talk about things. And hopefully, you get some answers that will help you stop occupying your mind of me.”

You said that as if you were trying to convince yourself, rather Dazai.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You pushed open the door.

Dazai followed you as you walked through the house—through the hallway and to the kitchen.

“Do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” he replied.

“Alright. Uh…feel free to make yourself at home. I’m going to change, I’ll be right back.”

…

You walked into your room, first washing your face in the bathroom. You stared at your face through the window, noticing how pigmented your cheeks were.

Why did I do this?

You were in the middle of changing your pajamas when Dazai knocked on your door.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh—“ you hastily buttoned two thirds of your shirt before, “Yeah.”

A smell of your favorite scent immediately flowed into the room as Dazai came in. It was of the candles you had around your house.

“You lit my candles?”

“Yeah. I got curious because the flavors looked nice. I like them. The scent matches you perfectly.”

“Oh…thanks,” you mumbled. You didn’t know how else to respond.

Dazai glanced around your room. Some things changed—you had moved some things around, redone the decor on your nightstands, changed your bed sheets…what he didn’t know was that you actually donated them after the break-up so you would never see them again.

“Did you need something?”

“Yeah. Do you still happen to have bandages?”

“Yes.” You had Dazai sit on the bed while you searched your closet for the box of bandages you would keep for whenever he came over. Unlike your sheets, you had kept them for your emergency first aid.

Or in case he happened to be in an emergency.

“What do you think you could’ve done better?”

There was a silence right after. You had hit Dazai with a hard question first.

“I’d stop disappearing so much without warning. I only realized how much I took that for granted when we stopped seeing each other. I would try to communicate better…” He looked down. “I’m terrible at it, I know, but I would try harder.”

“Why me? You could move on and find some other girl to treat right the first time.” You found the box, pulling it out.

“Because I would feel like a loser,” he added your name to the end of the sentence. “I was a total jerk to someone who loved me, and then I decide to switch it up for someone new and pretend to start on a clean slate? No, bella—I’m cursed with not forgetting and forgiving myself of the past. It feels cowardly.”

“Osamu, stop. You hurt me, yes, but you weren’t the only one in the wrong.

“I-I’m sorry.” You hadn’t apologized to him yet, through months.

You noticed his eyes almost widen, surprised.

“And I also forgive you. It took awhile, but I’m forgiving you of the mistakes that hurt me,” you continued. “And I’m apologizing to you too. So please forgive yourself. You don’t need to feel guilt.

“It’s only fair to you as well to move on.”

“Why, bella? How is it fair? How is it fair when the only person I want to see is you?”

“Osamu.”

You were right in front of him, the closest you’d been to him that night, discarding how he had tightly hugged you on the swing earlier. You were drowned in emotion that surrounded his desperate pleas.

“Can you please bandage me?”

“Why?”

“I miss your touches.”

You regret asking. He had no shame in expressing his thoughts, no matter what you two were going through. You regret asking, yet…

“Your coat.”

You climbed behind and rid Dazai of the top portion of his clothes—his vest and dress shirt. Then, you started unwinding the bandages on his arms, chest, and neck.

Gently, your fingers grazed the scars that hid underneath his attire, and his mind. Months ago, you had learned what every single mark came from after knowing where each one was—it was one detail Dazai fully opened to you about.

You were thankful you couldn’t see scars of the heart.

He would have thrice as many. Perhaps one of them would include you.

You rewrapped Dazai, leaving only his stomach unbandaged. You moved to do his neck when he paused you with his eyes, mere inches away from his face.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

You wish he weren’t so pretty. You would’ve been able to rationalize yourself quickly—you would’ve been able to give him a final answer without hesitating. But he ended up being the face of your dreams and the depth of your heart.

“I tell myself it’s fair,” you whispered. His nose was almost touching yours. “I tell myself it’s better that we’re done. But my heart isn’t so sure. It asks the same—how is it fair? To keep myself longing?”

Your arms were around Dazai’s neck with the bandage, yet you did not move to finish.

His gaze moved to your lips. A hand moved to your hair.

“Is it fair? If it truly is, push me away, bella.”

He didn’t force himself any closer, leaving you with the choice despite his yearning appearance. You could feel the warmth of his body on yours and the soft air of his breaths on your cheeks.

“Yes. It’s fair, Osamu.” You came to your conclusion.

Yet, you dropped the bandages, cupped his face towards you, and pressed your lips on his.

“But I’m selfish too.”

You moved your hands to waft through brunette locks as Dazai pulled you onto his lap. He held you tightly—desperate at the acceptance of your invitation.

Closer, along with the fresh scent of green tea, there was a note of sweetness as intoxicating as chocolate. You came to know this pleasant surprise every time you were pressed up against him, tucked well into his embrace.

A hand moved down your waist, tracing your curves. Meanwhile, his kisses became sloppier, changing course to your jaw.

“Bella,” he whispered.

“Osamu?”

“Too much? Just let me know.”

“Don’t stop.”

He planted his lips on your neck, leaving a mark when he moved to the next area.

“I don’t want to lose you again. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling him down over you.

“Everything about you,” Dazai continued. “It’s enchanting. How you smile when you’re flustered—like right now, and how you react when I touch you here…”

His hand found its way under your shirt, and you started laughing. He knew how and where to draw every specific reaction out of you, including where you were most ticklish.

“Osamu! Stop, hah-!”

You let him stay hovered over you and left his curious hands to wander your skin. Dazai looked free of emotional distress for once—being able to calm just by admiring you. It was like medicine.

“Do you still keep a spare pajama set?” he asked.

“Yes. However, the guest room is being renovated.”

“It’s fine. A couch was a luxury for me at one point.”

“Or you…could stay here. And you can have your favorite side, the side closer to the window.”

“Because I always see how the sun’s rays lay on your skin when I wake up,” he smiled. “And how spellbound your eyes make me when you open them and the light hits it.”

“You remember so much.”

“I told you how much I think about you, belladonna. I remember every night that I’m with you.”

dazai listens to music w/ u if u rb. reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3

#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai fluff #dazai x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd x you #bsd oneshot #dazai headcanons #bsd scenarios

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yandere-sins · 5 months

Note

A yandere with a darling who is kinda worse than they are but are still into it.....I don't know how unhinged you'd have to be for the yan to be like "Are you ok? Like if you need to talk about it I've put listening devices in the vents but still..."

I didn't want this to go into compliant darling territory or the darling being the yandere for someone else (though I did laugh a lot at the idea of telling the darling that the vents are bugged just in case they need it lol that's a good one). But this somewhat brought me a kind of different idea which you probably didn't intend, but I hope you like it all the same!

Warnings: Yandere, Violence (Descriptive acts of murder, stabbing, punching other people, breaking bones, getting bloody, a lot of blood actually, burying bodies), Sexual Content (Mentioning of non-con, dub-con, taking advantage, doing it in the blood of victims and next to dead bodies), Mentioning of drugs, Mentioning of knives, Patient/Doctor relationships, Murderer/Admirerer relationships, Reader is a serial killer, Yandere captures people for reader to kill, Yandere is also mad but so is reader, Reader doubts yandere's reasons for liking them, Reader is genderneutral but gets lifted into a bridal-style at the end, I once again didn't compile these warnings while writing and editing so I might miss some, sorry :(, Mentioning of wanting to throw up, Reader doesn't actually want to get better, it was different but really fun to write, Long post?, I feel like there are more warnings... but I can't remember anymore, if you made it this far and still want to read it, I hope you enjoy it!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Click

You sighed, holding your head in your hands, arms squeezed between your torso and legs. Your head was throbbing with the headache of the century. One you hadn't had in a long time... like five days.

"You're a fucking dick, you know that?"

Groaning, you heard your own voice echo through your dizzy brain, nausea building as you felt like you were on a ship, everything moving unsteadily around you. The blinding lights flooding the off-white room didn't help soothe the feeling either, and your whole body kept tensing up, readying itself to throw up. You tried deep breaths, but they barely did anything. Not like they ever did something. You were too far gone for that.

"I did what was necessary," his voice rang out through the speaker in the top left corner, accompanied by the screeching of technical issues. You whined loudly, tearing your hair out as your head felt like it would burst. "My bad," he added, turning down the volume.

"What was it this time? Double the dose, triple? Must you keep drugging me? Some doctor you are..."

"I tried something new," he admitted, a cheeky grin in his voice.

"Worked great..." you slurred, listening to him chuckle.

For a while, you gave in to the need to collapse, putting your arm over your eyes to escape the lights while you thought about the last few things you could remember. Therapy was going well... at least that's what you were told. But the nurses—ugh. That one bitch.

"She did it on purpose," you mumbled, hearing the softest of agreement through the speaker. You knew that if it wasn't against regulation, he'd be sitting next to you, brushing your hair out of the way while you'd tell him your woes. He was that kind of sicko. A doctor, yet fascinated with you, his patient. Even though he merely sat behind the cameras, watching you, you could hear the sickening affection he held for only his favorite patient in every one of his words.

In a way, he wasn't that different from you.

"You beat her up real good, smashed her face in. Got yourself into a frenzy and just tore open all your stitches from your last fight while you were at it, you really..."

He sighed. He was disappointed. Upset. This was a significant setback for him, too, after all.

"She called me too stupid to ever recover properly and I was trying this time, really! How else should I have reacted?"

"You could have told me."

"And you would have dealt with her how?"

A brief chuckle rang out before he replied, although, had you been less delirious, you wouldn't have needed to ask. You knew what he did to people who behaved poorly with you. "I would have taken care of her, as always. You know you have my unending support."

You couldn't help a smile creeping over your face, the memory of burying the last nurse who bothered you in the asylum's cemetary resurfacing. Digging out the grave had been hard work, but you had to agree with him that the physical labor did wonders to soothe your ever-agitated mind.

"You're terrible," you mumbled, unable to hide your smile.

"Ah! There it is! Look at those little dimples! I'm glad my services are appreciated by my darling. I was hoping to take you out on a rendevous once the dust settles. Maybe we can do that sooner than I expected."

"Who'd want that, you sicko."

Groaning, you finally sat up, looking down at the cushioned floor while you adjusted to being awake. Standing took a few attempts; the cushions aligned along the wall, not actually graspable, even if they looked like it. Everything about the solitary cell was so safe, it made you feel helpless. But eventually you managed to get to your wobbly feet, sighing in exhaustion once you stood.

"There you go, breaking my heart," he sighed, and you shook your head with a laugh, knowing he didn't mean it.

"No straight jacket this time?" you asked, raising your arms and, for the first time since you awoke, realizing your movements were unrestraint.

"You weren't in a condition to restrain you. I prioritized your healing over that awful jacket."

"You just don't like it because it does nothing for my figure."

Again, you heard the grin in his voice as he said, "Busted. You're too cute to walk around constrained. Even though I love how crazy you look with it."

"Sicko..." you mumbled, your nickname for your doctor, endearing only in his ears.

Your limbs were terribly heavy as you moved them towards the door. Part of you wanted to collapse on the ground again; simply pass out where you were. But knowing him, he'd definitely use the opportunity to take advantage of you, especially now that he could get a video of it.

You didn't always mind what your doctor did to you. In a way, he was helpful even if everything you two did was against any laws in this country. If anyone knew what you two were getting into when no one was looking, you'd both be put down like rabid dogs. But that's just how you two were—feral.

The sicko kept telling you how he'd get you back on track. How he'd "fix" you just enough so you could go home with him. There was no way you'd consider living with him if you ever did get out. Still, he liked to paint the picture whenever he crawled into your bed while on night duty, hugging you and telling you about his ideas. You told him often enough that, given the chance, you'd kill him outside the safety of this institution, but so far... you hadn't.

You had enough chances, enough people he let you murder, watching you while you did it and helping you to hide the bodies once you were satisfied, but you never once turned the knife on him. Maybe it was because of his studies; perhaps he knew more about you than you about yourself. Or it was because he was just as insane. Fucking your patient in the blood of their victims was definitely not normal, even you knew that. So what other reason could he have for it except insanity?

"Earth to my darling, I repeat: Are you thirsty?"

You felt the heat spread over your face as you felt called out by his question, almost as if he was reading your mind. It wasn't like you two were lovers. There was no chance in hell you'd get together with someone like him—or anyone for that matter. You didn't want the burden of someone clinging to you while you did your dirty work.

But the sex after releasing all your pent-up anger? Out of this world.

Perhaps his doctorate was in fucking instead of psychiatry, but he knew how to work every part of his body. And he knew just how to get you in the mood, too. An explosive combination, mixing his lust with your madness.

That didn't change much about your feelings for him, though.

"I'm not," you muttered, trying to hide your face, which probably showed the embarrassment you felt, thinking of the last romp you two had. You tried the deep breaths again, but the thoughts kept popping back into your mind. Must be the drugs, you thought.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course!"

His excitement was loud and clear as it rang through the microphone, and you weren't sure if you should smile at it or sneer. For some reason, you both held each other in a tight grip, unable to be separated, yet most likely toxic for each other. But he still got excited over any kind of interest you had in him and you about all the things he did so you could live out your best life—even though you were locked away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, standing in front of the door, not looking up. Even if he was just the voice behind a camera at the moment, somehow, this question left a bad taste in your mouth. You didn't want him to see the conflict on your face; didn't want him to know that you were doubting how deserving you were of his favor. It wasn't insecurity, wasn't a need for reassurance, but how could anyone look at you and think, "That's the one!"? You killed people, went into violent rages, and weren't considered safe enough to be reintegrated into society, probably ever again. There was nothing you had to show for yourself. Nothing that could justify the feeling of adoration your own therapist held for you. Especially not he. He should have been one of the good ones. And you weren't. It made no sense to you why he'd behave like he did.

"Why you what?"

"Why do you like me so much? I mean, come on! I mean, look at us! We're batshit crazy! This isn't some romance movie on television, we're actually doing bad shit, and yet you keep shielding me, doing me favors, telling me you love me. I'm sure there are others out there who you can fix and fuck if you like. It's not like..."

Biting your own tongue, you wondered if it was the new drug combo he tried on you that made you feel especially irritated with his feelings that day. You let him do all this stuff to and with you, but now you were getting weirded out by it? It wasn't like you to get so worked up over him; you were more of the cool type, spitting-in-his-face-type if he pissed you off. You didn't even want to validate his feelings for you, but also... being self-aware enough to know you were a danger to humankind, you couldn't shake the feeling he might just be using you for his own sick desires. And that made you angry again. You'd not be a pawn or a means for no one.

Click

"Wow, okay, you bastard." Your grumbling fell on deaf ears as he turned off the microphone. "Sure, I'm going through something here, but by all means, stop listening. Not like it's your job or anything..."

Unprepared, you jolted back as the door to your cell suddenly yanked open, revealing the pitch-black corridor that lay behind. Apparently, it was late at night, but you couldn't focus on that as your doctor appeared from the shadows, a deep frown etched into his beautiful face. He should have been a model. At least that job wouldn't have led him to meet you.

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, stalking forward, undeterred by the open door, not thinking for a second that you'd try to escape. "Do I need a reason to love you for you to believe it?"

He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back as he matched the steps you were taking backward. Soon, you'd run out of space to back into, but perhaps that was his goal.

"Can't I just love you because the first time you caved in and told me about the things you went through, things just felt... right? Everything just clicked in my head, and I thought, "Wow, I want to see them happy!" Must there be any other reason for me to love you?"

Your back hit the wall just as his eyes lowered to your lips, his thumb reaching up to brush over them. "I dream about those lips. I can't help but think about you no matter where I go. In the evening, I imagine you curled up on the couch next to me; sometimes, I hear your laugh when you aren't even there. I want that picture-perfect life with you, but the moment I step into your room and see you covered in blood, your eyes showing just how far gone you are, it just..."

He looked up again, his eyes swirling with all the emotions he tried to convey in his words. But when he met your gaze, the color drained, leaving behind what you could only describe as pure, unfiltered madness.

"It drives me insane."

His second hand raised to the side of your face. He cupped your cheek in his palm for a moment, a soft smile creeping over his lips. "I like you like this. Docile, calm, sweet. I like it when you ask me things, I like it when you beg for something. I like it when you only let me do things to you. I want to help you, I do! But..."

His hand sliding down, you looked away, trying to catch it before it slipped around your throat, pressing into it, squeezing so hard you felt as if your head was going to detach from your neck.

"I want to ruin you. I want you worse, I want you deranged. I want you to kill everyone and then me, so I'll be the last of your victims, the only one you remember. I want to be ruined by you so badly that every day, I hope you tell me about yet another staff member we get to kill, and then you can use me to satisfy your needs. Can't you understand? This is love. No one will ever love someone like you, but. I. do. I understand you, I care for you. And I will continue to do so, with no other reason than I love you. I love you so much."

You gasped for air at this point, fingers grabbing his arm. It was hard listening to him, but it was harder to breathe. You knew he wouldn't kill you. This was nothing compared to other things you two did to each other. It stung a little when he said no one else would ever love you, but he was right. Not unless the change everyone expected from you was also something you wanted.

But why would you?

The pressure on your throat disappeared, only for your breath to be stolen by his kiss. You hated this man. You hated him because he was a little bit too much like you. Too unhinged to be likable. And at the same time, he wasn't at all. He was too supportive, too nice, too forgiving. It disgusted you, honestly. Yet, you reciprocated, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. Before he could back off, you caught his cheeks in a squeeze between your fingers to draw him back to lick off the red fluid, reminding him he wasn't the deranged one here.

"Don't question me again about my feelings, please," he asked, out of breath, too, as he bumped his forehead against yours. "I love you, I really do."

"You're a sicko, you know that? And your beard is stinging me, you should shave."

At this, he laughed out loud, raising his head to the ceiling. "I spent three days waiting for you to wake up. You can deal with some stubble."

"No, I don't like it."

Grinning, he lowered his face to you and gave you another peck on the lips. "It's gone tomorrow, I promise."

"Can I go back to my room now?"

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. "Someone's awaiting their punishment still. You really want to miss out on that?"

Now it was your turn to grin as well. "Aww, you shouldn't have! Are we gonna cut up that bitch now? For real?"

"Anything for you," he mumbled, raising your hand to give it a quick smooch. "But let me change your bandages first. I don't want you to accidentally get sepsis if your wounds are still open."

"Surprisingly, you're still a doctor at heart."

"That's not true," he gasped, feigning indignation about your statement.

"Are you not?" you asked, watching him bend down to pick you up, bridal-style even. You weren't mad since your legs felt even weaker than before, and you really wanted to conserve your energy.

"I'm afraid it's no longer medicine that has claimed my heart."

He looked at you, smiling softly. "It's all you."

"And I can't help but love you more, realizing I am becoming more like you every day."

#yandere doctor #yandere!doctor #yandere therapist #yandere!therapist #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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batsyforyou · 9 months

Text

Simon Ghost Riley Sleep Headcanons

Pairing: Ghost x reader

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: there shouldn’t be anything that might require a tag but if y’all spot something let me know.

Doesn’t sleep at all because of his insomnia and PTSD

Just stares up at the ceiling with a quiet mind

And if he has the fan on he’s listening to the beaded cords clink together while the blades spin and hum

On his bad nights he is rethinking and remembering his day and some of his worst memories.

He knows that a person can’t save everyone, not that he wants too

But there are just somethings that haunt him

There’s some good men he’s lost that didn’t deserve the fates delt to them and bad men that got what the good men deserved

It makes him sick

He typically sleeps on his back with his hands to his sides with a 9mm under his pillow and one tapped to the side of his dresser

When he does sleep its very light and he listens to very sound

When he first moved to his apartment he made every effort to learn every sound his apartment makes

So he doesn’t even flinch when he hears those random noises that’d make most people jump at night

Can almost predict when his fridge and vents are gonna make noise he knows it so well

He normally doesn’t get nightmares just memories

He honestly doesn’t think his brain can come up with anything new to scare him

Not until he meet you

It takes you months to convince him to move into your place

He is hypervigilant with everything and the first thing he does is install a high tech security system

He keeps an extra lock on your doors and windows and makes sure to lock the master bedroom up tight before bed so he can have a few extra seconds to react to an intruder

He doesn’t share your bed for the first few months he is with you

He has to learn to desensitize himself to sleeping with another person

Mostly just to get used to the idea that the person in his bed isn’t a hook up nor do they want to stab him in the back in the middle of the night

But when he does get into your bed he melts into your warmth

He relaxes into you and at first he sleeps on his side with an arm wrapped around your waist while he allows you to use his arm as a pillow

Though after his first nightmare of you dying he distanced himself from you at first

And after you corral him into talking about it he’d admit that he is scared of waking up to you dead or even if he came back from deployment to find you shot or killed worse if you were missing

After that he returns to sleeping on his back while you cuddle into his side and rest your head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat

Though there are times he’ll be on his side facing the door to watch it when he can’t sleep and you’ll just cuddle up into him as the big spoon and wrap your arms around him and kiss his shoulder blade

He won’t move from you but he will take a hand and bring it to his lips to press a kiss to your pulse point and keep his fingers there to reassure himself that your okay

He doesn’t move at night no major tossing and turning is done

Just the rare potty break but he moves so stealthily you don’t wake

Overall Simon is a 9/10 sleep buddy

Edit: Y'all I was looking over this and realized that I forgot to add that his bed smells freaking amazing. Like come on you can't tell me that ain't true.

Masterlist

#simon ghost riley #ghost #simon riley #cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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angelfacedelrey · 5 months

Text

Unloved ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: luke confesses some his stuggles to you, then you confess some of yours to him.

words: 1.7 k

!! MAJOR ed tw !!

a/n: this is just me venting about my ed lol. this is my first fic so please be nice <3

There was something off about Luke. You could tell the moment you saw him. Even though you’ve only been dating for 4 months now, you know when something is wrong. During the party that the Dionysus kids insisted they threw (for pretty much no reason), he wasn’t his usual smiley and outgoing self. He seemed reserved and quiet. You were outside the dining pavilion talking to some other kids from camp. In the glow of the torches, everyone was laughing and having a good time except for him. You weren't either, but you tried to look like you were. Your arm was wrapped around his as you leaned against him and listened to the conversation, though you couldn’t focus on what they were saying. You kept glancing up at Luke every minute or so to see if he looked any happier (he never did).

After the conversation fades out, you pull him away to a quiet area and whisper to him, “Luke, are you okay… you seem… off.”

He sighs and looks away for a second before answering, “Let’s talk by the lake.”

Anxiety grows in your stomach. What could this mean? You just nod as he grabs your hand and takes you to the lake. The water is pitch black in the night and there is a chill in the summer air. He lets go of your hand and looks down to see your face.

“I’m sorry… there’s just a lot going on right now,” His hand scratches the back of neck as he says this.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Luke. I’m listening,” you say, as you look him in the eyes and gently grab his hand. “I know it must be hard since Percy and Annabeth went on that quest, I know she was like a little sister to you.”

Nervously, he clears his throat. “Yeah, but, um, it’s not just that…”

“Oh…what is it?”

He sighs and lowers his head, “Look, just promise me that you won’t view me any differently after I tell you this.”

“No, no,” you say hastily, while shaking your head. “There’s nothing you could ever say to me that will make me view you differently, Luke. I’ll love you no matter what, I promise.”

Luke looks you in the eyes again. “Nothing?”

“Nothing,” a reassuring smile grows on your face.

He can’t help but smile with you. He’ll remember that. “Look, it’s just about my dad… Do you ever feel… betrayed by our godly parents?”

Taken aback by the question, you stop to think before answering. “Betrayed how?”

“Like, they just ignore us, like we’re nothing to them. Like we’re not even their children.”

“I-I guess so. I mean I feel like that sometimes.”

“That shouldn’t be how it is, though,” He sighs and keeps talking. “I don’t think Hermes even knows most of his kids. Most of my half siblings have barely met him, if at all. It’s just so… infuriating. He goes around, siring kids, and then sits up in Olympus and just leaves them. I’ve spent my entire fucking life wondering where my father is. Waiting for him to maybe one day come and talk to me or just acknowledge my existence. But, no. I’ve only met him once, because he can’t be bothered to get to know his own fucking kid!”

For a moment, he runs his hand through his curls and exhales before he continues. “And what I’m about to say might sound… bad…but seeing Percy get claimed just like that after finding out he’s a half blood for, like, what a week? It just intensified everything I felt before… Like some kid just shows up and now he’s loved by everyone and claimed by his father. And yet, I fight everyday and what do I get? Nothing! I’m the best sword fighter in camp, I pray, I give offerings, I’ve done everything right. But it’s still not enough for him… I’m just so fucking tired of these Gods just doing whatever they want and not caring who they hurt…”

After saying all that he turns back to look at you. You're standing there in stunned silence, unsure of what to say.

“Luke, I… I’m so sorry,” you walk over and give him a hug. He hugs you back and rests his chin on your head. A few silent moments pass as you stay like that. The sound of campers excitedly chatting and partying could be heard distantly behind them.

“Do you see me differently now?” He asks, quietly.

You pull away, but keep your hands on his arms, gripping him gently. “No, Luke, I really don’t. I told you nothing you say will ever make me view you differently.”

“I know it’s just that… most people would think that I’m… weak for feeling this…”

“Weak?” You look shocked. “How could anyone ever think you’re weak? You’re one of the strongest people I know!” You kiss him softly on the cheek and smile reassuringly causing a slight blush to appear on his cheeks.

“I understand what you’re saying, trust me. I, of all people, understand what it’s like to do your best to get your parent’s love and praise… and yet, it’s never enough,” You say, trying to give him a sympathetic look.

“You understand?” Luke asks, his face softening a bit.

“I understand all too well…” You say with a humorless laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, but…”

“But?”

“Well, y’know with Aphrodite being the goddess of beauty and all…there’s, um, a lot of pressure for us to look a certain way…”

Sighing slightly, Luke brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Is this about… dieting?” He says it carefully, unsure of how to word it correctly.

“Yeah,” you look away, ashamed to be telling someone this. “I’ve been counting calories since I learned to count. I obsess over every little thing I consume. I eat as little as I can, yet it always feels like too much. I go on runs or swims everyday… and it’s still never enough. I’m never thin enough… I love my mom, but… I can’t help, but feel like she made me start doing this.”

Now it’s Luke’s turn to stand there in stunned silence. “I had no idea… that you’re going through all this. I-I’m sorry, I should’ve noticed.” He thinks back to everyday in the dining pavilion when he’d look over to you at the Aphrodite table and see you playing with your food instead of eating. Or all the times when you’d say you weren’t hungry and would change the subject to anything besides food. Or all the daily runs he’d see you go on. Or, most concerning of all, the quick weight loss. How all your clothes that used to fit, now hang over your body like a shower curtain. Your once cherub-like face became pale and almost gaunt with dark circles under your eyes and a tired expression always. How has no one noticed? How has he never noticed?

You just shake your head and give him a gentle smile. “Luke, it’s okay. I tried my hardest to keep it hidden. Also, my mental state isn’t your responsibility…”

“But I’m your boyfriend,” grabbing your hands gently, he looks at you with a sympathetic expression. “It’s my job to care for you, especially when you’re… sick. Does anyone else know?”

“No,” you shake your head once more. “You’re the first person I told… It’s not a big deal, I’m not even that sick.”

“What?” He says, his eyebrows furrowing together as a shocked expression etches onto his face. “Not that sick? Y/N, you’re starving yourself! That sounds pretty sick to me.”

You just shrug in response.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since like,10 or 11. I told you, I’ve been counting calories since I learned to count.”

He stands there quietly for a bit, as his heart sinks. “That young?”

“Yeah,” you respond.

“If you don’t mind me asking… How many calories do you eat in a day?”

“I-I don’t know,” you lie, you know exactly how many calories you consume, down to the stick of gum you’d chew for a snack. “Like about 400-800…” You try (and fail) to fight back a smile that grows on your face. Despite how unhealthy it is, you can’t help, but feel proud of it.

Luke, on the other hand, just feels shocked and concerned. “That-that’s nothing… and for so long. Y/N, you need help. You’re killing yourself.”

“I know, believe me, I know… But I can’t stop.”

He reaches up and cups your face, rubbing circles with his thumbs before kissing your forehead. “I wish you could realize you’re perfect the way you are. I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else does,” he says it softly. “I’d love you, no matter how you look.”

“Really?” You ask, while a blush appears on your cheeks.

“Really,” He says, tenderly grabbing your waist and pulling you close to him. You rest your head against his chest and once again, you stay like that for a while.

Slowly, you pull away and smile softly at him. “I’m getting tired, can you stay with me tonight?... Not to do anything, but just like to… be with me…” You hastily added the last part, but hesitated. Most guys don’t react kindly to you saying you don’t want to do anything.

“Of course,” Luke responds. “But can you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can you try to… eat better tomorrow? Please, just try…”

You hesitate before answering, “I will. I’ll try.”

He smiles brightly, “That’s my girl.” He gently grabs your hand and walks you to Cabin 10.

You spend the rest of the night together in your bed. However, Luke doesn’t get much sleep.

He holds you close to his chest as you sleep and thinks about everything you had told him. He hates himself for not noticing sooner. But a very small part of him feels relieved. If your mom caused you this much pain, then maybe convincing you to join him in taking down the Gods wouldn’t be as hard as he thought…

He hates himself even more for thinking that.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x aphrodite!reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #luke castellan #fanfic #hurt/comfort #angst #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #percy jackon and the olympians #coquette #coquette aesthetic #tw 3d vent

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yanderehsr · 1 year

Note

Hope you have a wonderful day! The quote “Always the bridesmaid never the bride” stuck in my head and prompted the idea behind this request

Can I request yandere angst Zhongli x adeptus reader. With this context in mind: the reader has a big crush on zhongli due to him saving them from danger but Zhongli was in love with Guizhong and was ignorant of teh reader’s infatuation with him. The reader was always there for him patiently listening him vent about his emotions and even giving him good and helpful advice when Zhongli asked them about how to court Guizhong. But as we all know Guizhong unfortunately dies leaving Zhongli heartbroken. Even during his darkest moment the reader was always there for him lending him a willing ear or doing small things for him such as taking careof his work. But years go by and Zhongli is.. well he is now living among the people of Liyue and focus on making it prosper that accidentally ignores the reader’s obvious feelings for him. So after years of being push aside and also out of respect for Guizhong the reader just stops pursuing Zhongli romantically and avoids him, going out of there way to avoid him so that they no longer feel the pain of a broken heart. What would Zhongli do when he finds out that the person who stuck by his side amd whom he thought of a very close friend was in love with him? And to what lengths would he go through to get them back again.

-Thanks for reading my request!

Took some time but finally found motivation to write, I decided to go with female reader for this one, hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping, Suggestive at the end

Someone would need to tell Zhongli about your previous crush for him to know of it, someone like Ganyu or Cloud Retainer. It shocks him, he had never thought of you like that, it makes him think about it.

Zhongli remembers how you used to listen to his frustrations, helped him with own crush on the now deceased Guizhong, you were always on his side no matter the situation, to spend his life with you, it honestly didn't sound all that bad, it sounded lovely really.

And that is when Zhongli takes notice, he hasn't seen you for a couple of years, when did you distance yourself from him, were where you now. Maybe he should go out and search for you tomorrow.

He searches for days, weeks but he can still not find you, it's almost like... like you are avoiding him, no no that was impossible, you liked him right, he thinks of the smile you always wore and how beautiful it was, he truly was a fool for not noticing earlier.

When Zhongli finally finds you again he can feel his heart beating in his chest, you look just like you used to, every last deatil as it had been a millennium ago, he hugs you from behind, he has finally found his love, he doesn't hesitate to confess and he was sure you would accept, you loved him afte-

"I'm sorry Morax, but I have moved on and so should you"

Zhongli goes real quiet upon hearing that, he was so sure of your answer but you are here telling him you have moved on, nononononono, this can't be happening, you were supposed to be with him, you loved him right, you were supposed to be his mate forevermore.

The lack of response from Zhongli makes you turn around and the sight is one to fear, his eyes slit as a snake and he looks at you with possessiveness in his eyes, markings of geo formed on his arms, something was behind him, it couldn't be a tail could it?

The ground shook, even without his gnosis he still had unbelievable strenght, he closes in on you as you struggle to even stand, he can't loose you as well, he needs to tie you down to him, but how.

Zhongli hugs you, unbothered by your struggling he came up with an idea, he would transfer you to an adepti's abode, where you will be given his first time, pump you so full of him that it would be impossible for you to not end up with children, his children. Zhongli loves you so much he almost can't wait.

"Mine, you are mine, it was my mistake for not realising your love for me until it was too late, but I'm sure I can make you love me again MY mate"

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader

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mins-fins · 5 months

Text

where do we go

&&. conversations between lung destroyi— i mean, smoking cigarettes.

pairing: lee donghyuck x gn!reader

genre: some weird thing idk..

warnings: smoking, readers got some bad friends

word count: 0.9k

notes: can you believe this.. TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY!??? okay my first hyuck post today was a timestamp i posted while on the bus home but hey!! two posts in one day is crazy.. also both of them being for haechan, i don't like him guys i just had two good ideas containing smoking and he was the first idol that came to mind 😖 he's the loml fr 💗 but no no no im not a sunflower dont get it wrong 🙏 also i dont smoke, based this off shit i've read and observing all the adults in my life who smoke around me 🙁 dont crucify me for not being accurate #smokers

"you have a lighter?"

the question strikes you as odd. you snap out of your street lamp gazing and turn to the stranger beside you. you blink a few times, as if you couldn't fathom why such a question would be asked. the stranger waits patiently for your answer, mouth seemingly zipped shut after asking the question. "what?" you inquire like an idiot.

"a lighter" he reiterates, raising an inflammable joint tucked between his index and middle finger in the air. you allow for your mouth to form a small 'o', and you clear your throat, suddenly feeling flustered. he snickers lightly, and your almost afraid that he's laughing at you. "you don't smoke?"

you smile weakly, just sighing as you begin rummaging through your pockets. "no it's just.. today's not my day, i'm upset about some shit that's all" when you finally find the lighter you remember you placed into your pocket, you passed it over to him with a throw. "here".

the stranger doesn't seem to be that interested in your lighter anymore, his face coloring in concern at the sound of you being upset. you aren't sure why he even cares, there's no reason for him to. you ignore his look of concern, just rubbing your eyes. "oh? what's upsetting you so much?"

you allow for yourself to snort at the words. "it's nothing, really, i don't want to burden you with my issues" you dismiss him with a wave, watching as he lights the cigarette and takes his first drag of the joint.

"no please" he responds, blowing the smoke out through his lips. he tosses you back your lighter. "you gave me your lighter, so i'll sit here and listen to you vent your issues" he places a prideful hand on his chest, as if you were supposed to celebrate him for that or something.

"wow, should i clap for you to honor such generosity?"

"well you don't have to, but i would love if you did" oh! so this guy is a comedian, your tongue pokes through your inner cheek as you let out another silent sigh, straightening your posture in your seat. your train isn't coming for another ten minutes.

"oh lord where are my manners? lee donghyuck!" he pairs a charming smile with his introduction, and you almost laugh (key word: almost) at the allure of this stranger. he holds out his hand for you to take, presumably for a handshake, and it's not like it'll kill you or anything, so you take his hand, shaking it.

"l/n y/n" you respond, he doesn't hold your hand for long, his grip quickly slipping away from yours as he leans back in his seat sighing.

"alright then, y/n" he begins, playing with the joint in his fingers. "what's making you so upset tonight?"

"do i have to tell you?"

"would you rather sit here in silence and watch me destroy my lungs?"

the answer to that question is easy, no, when given the ultimatum, talking about your issues seems much easier than whatever else he was saying. "it's just— my friends suck! they call me overdramatic for wanting birthday gifts and then they proceed to blow up my phone with texts!"

donghyuck raises an eyebrow, blowing out more smoke. "they didn't even try to get you gifts?"

"they didn't even remember my birthday!" you shout, getting more and more irritated as you recall the incident. "i've literally gotten ignored all day, they only just remembered like two hours ago! can you believe that?"

"what a bunch of assholes.." he mumbles, a smell of burnt cigarettes in the air. "what kind of friends are those?"

"right? and now they're just expecting me to answer their calls!? they can go to hell for all i care!"

"petty" donghyuck comments absentmindedly, his smile doesn't go unnoticed by you, he has such a nice smile, you note. "i like it" he says again, playing with the joint in his fingers.

"i have every right to be petty, they don't deserve my attention.." you brush dust off your sweater, looking forward at the train tracks, your eyes cast up at the board which usually displays how long until your train comes. "you've gotta be fucking kidding me".

"what's wrong now?"

"train is delayed".

"ah" donghyuck resists the urge to laugh at your look of defeat, he doesn't want to upset you. "guess were gonna have to walk home".

you groan at the idea, but you stand up, though begrudgingly. "i don't live anywhere near this place" you shove your hands into your pockets, now annoyed by the fact that you'll have to walk home, just another horrible thing to add onto your horrible day.

"well, we could always walk together".

at donghyuck's suggestion, you give him a baffled look, and he finally does laugh at the look you share with him, taking another drag of the joint tucked between his fingers. "were still strangers, i'm not sure that's safe".

"you gave me your lighter, were basically soulmates".

the statement makes a baffled chortle escape your lips, and you click your tongue at his words. you try your best to ignore the constant buzzing of your phone. "wow, your a comedian aren't you?"

"a proud one too".

the words get another laugh out of you, and you look down at the floor, at your moving feet. "at least let me walk you out of the station, i don't want to leave you here".

"how endearing, lee donghyuck" you tease, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. he seems to like those words, because he allows for his lips to turn up into a grin. he drops his cigarette onto the ground and puts it out with his foot. "fine, i'll let you walk me out".

"thank you! i won't disappoint!"

#lee donghyuck #haechan #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan drabbles #haechan scenarios #lee donghyuck x reader #haechan x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

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showstopper35 · 8 months

Note

Hello! Do you still write for Tfp/Transformers Prime? If so, I have a request!

Maybe ‘cons reacting to reader dealing with a person that caused a lot of childhood trauma? If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it!! I just am dealing with a person who wasn’t the greatest to me as a kid and would really like some headcanon comfort <3

again, feel free to ignore and remember to take care of yourself!

of course! thanks so much for the request, darlin’! I hope you are doing well and my DMs are open if you ever need to talk. 💛

Megatron

-He knows. He knows how it feels to be scorned in your youth. He knows how much you hurt. He also knows that he wouldn’t be the best at comforting you, so he provides a distraction. -Every time you come to him an anxious, frustrated mess because of them, he takes you to stargaze or to read or just sit on the top of the ship in peace. -Megatron entertains you will tales of when he was younger, fighting for the freedoms he still believes in. You know he’s been hurt too and there’s a comfort in knowing you both still are yet to move on from that past, and that’s okay. You’ll confront it when you are stronger.

Starscream

-He’s not…the best at comforting people. But he is angry. So angry. Why would anyone hurt you? Especially when you were so small? He’s felt small every day of his life, he can’t imagine what sort of monster does that to a sparkling.

-Honestly, he turns into an outlet for your rage. Want to scratch something up? He finds things for you to break, things for you to throw. It's not the most healthy, but when has anything he ever done been?

-When all your anger has been exhausted, he just sits with you. That helps more, and he knows that, but he won't say anything. And that's okay.

Knockout

-Out of all the cons I think he would be the most helpful. He pampers you, taking you on long drives and god-awful drive-in movies to distract you. He's also willing to just listen to you vent to him while he's working in the medbay.

-If the harmful person comes back, you can bet he's got his saw blade out and will not hesitate to bring them down. He provides you with a free escape ride if you are ever in an uncomfortable situation.

-He is always, always ready to shower you with compliments, especially when he picks up that you've had a bad day. And if you don't feel like telling him what's going on, he will distract you with the randomest stories about himself. It always makes you laugh.

Breakdown

-You better believe that this guy's got hugs for days for you. After many, many, many threats to whomever is hurting you, he sits with you and listens to you vent.

-His attempts at reassuring comments aren't the best, but he tries. He'd much rather go pound the jerk to dust, though.

-He somehow smuggles a shitload of chocolate and ice cream up to the Nemesis for you. Most of the ice cream melts before you can eat it, but it is still delicious.

Arachnid

-The person who is hurting you is never seen or heard from again :)

-You don't mention it and neither does she.

Soundwave

-You better believe that you will never go anywhere near your abuser again. He keeps tabs on them, removing you from anywhere within a 5-mile radius of them. If you do happen to meet them, he is sending Laserbeak and they have roasted limbs from lasers.

-Records everything you say they did and privately keeps it just in case. Not to blackmail them or to send them to the police, of course.

-Lets you play with Laserbeak and pulls up comforting and funny videos to watch with you. He is as silent as ever, but that doesn't change the fact that he cares about you.

Dreadwing

-He pretty much becomes your personal bodyguard. It's a little strange at first, but you get used to his presence and sweet insistence in accompanying you everywhere, especially if you encounter your abuser.

-You can bet that if anything ever happens again with that person, they will go down in a firey explosion orchestrated by his own hand.

-Sucks at speaking to you (about anything, really. he's so stiff.), but when he cleans his weapons, he is happy to listen to you.

Shockwave

-Ah yes, Mr. no emotions. He tries...I think. He'd rather give you some weapon of mass destruction than listen to you detail all of your abuse. I mean, it's a solution, I guess.

-He makes you watch the seekers to learn self-defense and also read some Cybertronian literature on battle tactics.

-At least you can punch now and use poisons?

Predaking

-After learning what had happened to you, he refuses to let you leave his side for weeks. He cares for you and distracts you by terrorizing Starscream on the ship.

-Eventually, though, he accompanies you to meet with the abuser. You talk with them for a bit before he comes crashing down in his dragon form, scaring them into oblivion.

-It felt really good.

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juneknight · 1 year

Text

•.Be Lost.• 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 2.5

Summary: after a series of failures to find a dominant, your long time best friend Marc offers to give topping you a shot.

About this: Marc Spector/f!reader, mentions of kink, dominance and submission, kneeling, orgasm control

Immersivity: reader is a non-physically described cisgender woman. She works with animals and spends months out of the year in a place where it is cold—but this is the extent of her description. If there are other details which need mentioned because they hinder your immersive experience, please feel free to point them out.

“Give up. Give In. in the end It would be better to surrender before you begin. be lost. Be lost—And then you will not care if you are ever found.”—Victoria Schwab

Marc sends the message one night after the two of you have hung up from a lengthy venting session about your latest dating failures. A simple, without context:

You could do better

I know, you type back, squinting at the screen of your phone in the darkness. Outside, the wind howls—another snowstorm which you hope will either amount to nothing or be bad enough that you won’t have to traverse the icy roads to work in the morning. You roll onto your side, adjusting the pillow beneath you. You’re covered nose to toes beneath the coverlet and still shivering, but Marc always has a way of making you feel warm. That’s why I told that guy off, isn’t it? I know I can do better.

You watch as he types, no hesitation:

You could do me

In the morning, you text him with one hand, spooning Cheerios into your mouth with the other.

What, are you offering? There. You’re giving him an out. His message had confused you, left you spending half the night awake wondering about its context. You could do me. You could do me. You could do me? However he had meant it, you knew you had to offer him an easy way out. A fire escape. Maybe one of those seats on the plane that are right by the emergency exits. There’s a parachute beneath your seat, Marc, you think to yourself, drinking the remnants of milk from your bowl. Take it.

Yes. Give me a chance to help you feel better

Your face flushes. God, how embarrassing is it that Marc knows how bad you need fucked? Not just that—Marc knows how bad you need submitted. That was the caveat of having him as a best friend: he was more likely to listen than to speak, and as such, you told him everything. All your struggles with the kink scene up here in your little frozen section of the States. All the things every guy before him had done wrong…

You aren’t into that stuff, you text back.

And at the end of your work day, toes frozen in your boots, cheeks dry and chapped from the wind, you finally pull out your phone to see his response:

Says who?

I’m at a disadvantage here, you type to him while cooking dinner. The tiny kitchen of the sublet you rent during the winter months smells of pesto. You’re just glad it’s warm, wiggling your bare toes by the heat of the stove. You know all my kinks, I don’t know yours.

Marc sends a voice chat. It’s just over a minute long. Your heart is in your throat while your finger hovers over the play button. God, what the fuck could he be saying? Is he listing them all out for you, in alphabetical order or something? It will be the first time you’ve heard his voice since his text (“You could do me”, the phrase haunted your dreams now).

Pressing the button, you quickly hold the phone up to your ear. There’s no one else in the sublet with you, but you still imagine that his words will be scandalous enough to curl the nails in the floorboards.

There is rustling—Marc’s voice in the background, bright and laughing and calling out to someone, and then obviously speaking lowly into the phone to you: “You know what my kink is? Three years ago when I tried to take you hiking on that backpacking-for-beginners trail and got us lost, you remember? We spent half the fucking day—literally six hours or something—finding our way out, and after we did, I felt so bad I took you out to dinner. We didn’t even go home first, we were so hungry. We went to that fancy Italian place in town, both of us smelling like sweat and covered in dirt and at least ten pounds lighter from all the energy we burned out there in the woods, and when the waiter finally set that plate of food in front of you, you took a bite and you made this sound, this sound like you’d been dying of thirst but now you were lapping water right out of God’s palm. It was pleasure, and, and relief all in one—hearing you make that noise, and getting you to make it over and over again? That’s my kink. Do with that what you will.”

The voice message ends.

You drop your pesto spoon in the pot of boiling noodles.

You call him that night. You have to.

You and Marc have been friends for years, meeting in your early days of adulthood. It had been a fast friendship, both of you complimenting each other well. Marc was so easy to love, it had only made sense that you’d fallen in love with him. He was handsome and gentle and sometimes scathing and often hilarious. The only thing standing between him and a long term relationship was what Marc considered his ‘baggage’: the terrible abuse he had suffered as a boy, and the ramifications of it which he was still actively working to overcome after all these years. Marc didn’t think himself fit for marriage or even long-term dating. It was a shame for all the single women out there.

A blessing for you, though.

“Is this weird?” you ask as soon as he picks up the phone. “I don’t want things to be weird, Marc.”

“You spent half your day FaceTiming a horse,” says Marc dryly. “I don’t think your life can get any weirder.”

It was true—you had had to walk out to the barn three separate times today through the sleet to let an owner FaceTime with her horse who was sick and under your care. It had felt a little strange, being the third wheel in that conversation, but you understood her anxiety.

“I just—Marc, I don’t want to lose you. As a friend.”

You hear the phone shift as he shuffles it from one ear to another. He says: “The only way you could lose me would be if you told me to get lost. So can we figure this out?”

“Are you even attracted to me?” Maybe it’s desperate, but you’ve asked it. Marc has always taken efforts to compliment your appearance (resulting in heart palpitations all afternoon for yourself), but he’s never explicitly said that he finds you attractive.

On the other end, Marc lets out a breath which sounds a little like a laugh. Or a sigh? “Yes. Are you attracted to me?”

Marc clearly has never looked in a mirror as long as he has been alive. Tan skin that turns golden in the right lighting, dark curls that you wouldn’t mind trying to manage with your fingers, brown eyes that hint at the color of whiskey, a jaw to die for…

You clear your throat. “I mean—sure.”

“Sure.” You can hear his smile on the other end. It makes you want to die, just a little.

“Kind of.”

“Understandable.”

“You’re passable.”

“I’ll take it.”

One time, he texts while you brush your teeth. And if I’m no good at it, you can keep going to all those kink clubs up in the arctic circle

And if you are good at it? you wonder, because Marc has never been bad at anything in his life. Because ever since he suggested it, it’s all you’ve been able to think about, the feelings that you’ve had for Marc surging forward from the dusty shelf in the back of your brain where you had stored them all these years. Marc could just give you a look and you’re pretty sure it would melt you. There’s no way he’s going to be bad at topping you.

Then I’ll take care of you

Yes. Yes, melting already. You spit in the sink and rinse.

“Tell me again how it went with this last guy,” Marc says during your next phonecall. The two of you call each other every other night religiously when you are away (“up in the arctic circle” as he would say) for the coldest three months of the year. His voice is warm and low, quiet.

Even though you have already told him once, it is different now, isn’t it? The thought of relaying again everything that happened makes your face heat, makes you tug the blankets over your head until it is dark all around you.

“Do I have to?” you wonder.

“Do I have to make you?” he wonders back, voice lowering a fraction.

Your heart stutters. Your breaths begin to come at a faster rate.

“No,” you say, breathy and obviously on the verge of being devastated. “I’ll tell—we met on fetlife. He seemed nice and his picture was cute. Our interests lined up, so we met up at one of the clubs in town, but even though our interests had matched up on paper, we weren’t, like, meshing in real life.

“Like—,” you have to pause to clear your throat, voice dropping down low enough to almost be considered a whisper. God, you couldn’t believe you were telling Marc this again. “He…he called me a slut. I had marked that I wasn’t into degradation like that, but I think he thought it was an exception.”

“Why did he think that?” Marc asks. You’ve heard it said before that a lawyer never asks a witness a question that they don’t already know the answer to. In this moment, it seems like Marc is the same way.

“Because he called me his slut,” you admit. “He thought that would like, negate…I don’t know.”

“Are you?” Marc asks. “A slut, I mean.”

It rolls off your tongue before you can stop it: “Not his.”

There comes a breathy little exhale from Marc’s end of the line. It couldn’t be you—not when you’re holding your breath, eyes wide at your own audacity, at the mere suggestion that you would be okay being Marc’s slut, but not this stranger’s. Marc’s voice rasps from the other end: “I know, honey. I know.

“Tell me what happened next.”

I’ve been thinking, you text the next morning (which is true, there is a single moment spent outside of work that you aren’t spent thinking about this). Maybe this is where I’m going wrong with every guy, but—maybe we should practice. On the phone, you know?

Over text? he asks.

Sure, you say, aiming for nonchalant.

I want to hear your voice, he texts, effectively ruining any hope you had for nonchalance. It’s the last thing you want though. You’re terrified that hearing Marc’s voice croon such dangerous, sinful things to you will destroy you. You will be irrevocably changed. There will be the Before Marc times and the After Marc times.

Compromise? Start like this, and if we’re clicking, then we can do it over call.

It, he teases. Can you say it? Can you tell me what you want?

Jesus, Marc. You know what I want.

Use your words.

You whine, an honest-to-God audible whine beneath your blankets. He’s already slipping into the role so well. Or is he? Is he truly made to be dominant, some prodigious Dom, or are you simply made to melt at everything he does? But it also brings to light the question: what do you want?

Can I think about it?

Always, he says.

It takes time for you to gather your thoughts. Everything to think about the fact that this is Marc you’re talking about, your brain gets fuzzy and you lose your words. Finally, you devote yourself to writing it out longhand and thinking in general terms. What would you have wanted from Mr. My-Slut if he had asked you the same question?

When you’re finished, you text it to him before you can second guess yourself.

I want to feel owned. I want to feel small but safe. I want to feel consumed, like nothing else matters but you and what you do to me and what I do for you. I want my head to feel empty of anything that isn’t good for me or doesn’t feel good.

You bury your face in your pillow, but aren’t even there long enough to suffocate before your phone buzzes with a reply.

I can do that.

For a while, you don’t text Marc. You even miss one of your ritualistic calls. The thought of speaking to him when he knows what you want from a Dom is too much. Before, it had been easy to brush off your kinks to him. So much about wanting to be submitted had become akin to pop culture. Yeah, I want someone to tie me up and spank me and call me a slut, tee-hee!

It had always gone so much deeper for you, and for so many others, you could imagine. You were a hard worker even as a child. You became someone that people could rely on—and too often, they did. It only made sense that you would crave a way to be useful to someone, crave a way to shut your mind off. Crave a way to feel loved.

You throw yourself into your work, marking off days on a calendar. The first day of March, you will drive south back to the city. Back to Marc. Your contract here will be up, until next winter. God, you can’t wait to see him again. He always meets you outside the door to your building, chewing gum and pacing, like he’s nervous. Though only God knows what he would have to be nervous about.

Marc doesn’t text or call you either. He must have picked up on the vibes. Instead, he gives you space.

The next time you are due for your nightly vent sessions, Marc calls you. If you are worried you’ll get a talking to (or at least questions: why you hadn’t called, whether or not you were mad at him or other absurdities), you don’t get one. You slip back into the warm easiness that is your friendship, swapping stories about your days, talking about current events. Sometimes you don’t say anything, just sit in silence knowing the other person is there or listen to the quiet sounds of the other doing some mundane task: folding laundry, pouring a glass of water.

You exchange your customary ‘Love you’s at the end of the call, but the words reverberate in your throat. You love him. You really do.

Okay, show me what you got.

Come on, you know what I mean. I’m ready. Let me have it.

Oh is that how this goes?

You blink at the question. …yeah?

I don’t think so, he texts. You know how to ask for something you want.

Your heart leaps to your throat. Thumbs shaking a little, you ask: How’s that?

You say please.

You take a deep, soothing breath. Please?

That’s the word, yeah. Then he sends the thumb’s up emoji—monster.

Marc, I’m ready. Can we try, please? Your nerves are shot, stomach in your throat as you wait for a response. As soon as you see him start typing, you lose your nerve and turn off your phone screen. It’s like a horror movie. You can’t watch. When he finally sends a response and you open it, your mouth drops.

You can do better than that, can’t you? And a moment later: Beg me.

Fuck you, you text, laughing brightly at his audacity.

Not with that attitude, he types. I only fuck good girls.

“Jesus, Marc,” you mutter to yourself, breaths coming fast and short. How can he just say stuff like that? Single sentences that are hotter than any of the dirty talk men have given you during sex over the years. For a while, you are torn on what to answer. You want to quip, to say something bratty and whitty that will make him give one of his quiet exhales of laughter, the kind you are so familiar with hearing from the other end of your sofa while you both scroll through your phones. But, deep down—

What if I’m not a good girl? Maybe he’ll consider it just mindless sexy talk. Yeah, I’m not a good girl, I’m a bad girl. Maybe you’ve even said something like this before to one of those other guys. You can almost hear in some generic male voice the response: yeah, you’re such a bad girl.

Which is why Marc’s answer is so striking: She’s in there. Do I need to help you?

You have no idea what it could mean, but your fingers answer without any hesitation: Yes please

And your phone rings.

You answer it. Holding the phone to your ear, you become aware of how you are holding your breath, not letting a single word or sound pass through your lips.

On the other end, you can hear Marc’s steady, soft breathing.

“You there, baby?”

You hum in affirmation, but it comes out as a choked whine that makes your face turn hot.

“You’re going to have to use your words,” he warns. “But I’ll help you. Alright? The only thing I need you to do is this: if I say something that isn’t true, don’t say it. Otherwise, just repeat after me. Can you do that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good girl,” he says, voice dipping into a silky, pleased octave from his side of the phone. Your thighs clench together. Holy fuck. He’s going to destroy you. “Here we go: Marc Spector.”

“Marc Spector,” you sigh shakily. Easy enough.

“I trust you.”

“I trust you so-o much.”

You snort. “I trust you so-o-o much.”

“That I trust you to know what I need.” Mouth dry, you repeat the words. He adds: “And I trust you to be able to give it to me.”

“Marc,” you whisper, though you don’t know why.

“I love the way you sound when you say my name,” Marc admits to you. “Especially when you sound half-wrecked, and I’m five hundred miles away, not even able to touch you. But I need you to be a good girl and follow my directions. Repeat after me, or say nothing. Can you do that? Say, Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he says again. “I don’t know how anyone could mistake you for anything else. Now keep repeating, okay?: I trust you to be able to give me what I need.”

“I trust you to be able to give me what I need,” you repeat. As you say it, the words strike you in the chest. They’re true. You really do. All the people in the world, and maybe you love Marc more than any of them. And he is the sort of man who keeps his word—always.

“And I want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe.

“Real bad, Marc.”

“Really bad, Marc.”

“Are you in bed?”

“Are you in—wait—“ Marc laughs. “Yes? I’m—“

“I want you to get out of bed and get on your knees,” he says—just casually. Oh, lovely evening, now get down on your knees for me. Like being on your knees for Marc wasn’t on your mind constantly these days.

Without higher thought, you throw the blanket off, the cold air chilling your body. Sitting up, you let your legs dangle off the edge of the bed, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder. Your socked-toes skim the floor.

“What’s it matter if I go down there?” you whisper. “I’m in a different state. It’s not as if you can see me.”

“It matters to me,” he says. “If it’s too cold, put down a blanket. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Go on.”

You don’t bother with the blanket, appreciating the chilly floors against your bare knees and shins. You sit on your heels, thighs squeezed tightly together.

“What if I just lie?” you wonder. “Say I did it, but I’m still under the covers.”

“You wouldn’t do that. Are you down there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck. ‘What does it matter’, as if I need to see you. Like I can’t picture you clear as day in my head. Like it doesn’t mean more to me to know you’re on your knees a hundred-hundred miles away, just because I told you to.” Marc sounds strangely wrecked, and the knowledge that this menial action really has affected him so deeply has your shoulders going lax, bowing over to rest the top half of your frame against the soft mattress. Your cunt aches.

“Marc,” you whine.

“Yes?”

“Please,” you groan, turning to muffle your face into the mattress. Your further words are just inarticulate mumbles. He laughs, soft and warm.

“Spread your knees apart,” he says. “Far apart, as wide as you can.”

It is the last thing you want to do, but you do it. The brief sparks of pleasure that lit you up every time you clenched your thighs together are gone now, the cool air brushing against your heated sex through your underwear. It only emphasizes how much you ache, how little you’ve been satisfying yourself lately because every time your hand dips between your legs, Marc comes to mind, and you’re too flustered to give in and rub one out thinking of him. But oh god, that’s going to change. You can tell.

“Are you wet right now?” he wonders lowly.

You make a sound that is the vaguest affirmation you can give.

He exhales, the sound shaky through the speaker. “You’re so fucking good. I don’t know how you could ever think otherwise. Absolutely perfect. That’s how I know you’re going to be good and follow this next rule of mine.”

“Wha’s that?” you slur, head fuzzy where it rests against your sheets.

“You can touch yourself as often as you like,” he says, making your face burn hot again. “Use those toys I know you have—but absolutely no one else. Not in person, not over the phone. If we do this, you rely on me and I do the same for you. Deal?”

“Deal,” you sigh, relieved that his condition goes both ways. You aren’t necessarily strict on monogamy, but you are strict on devotion. The last thing you could ever do would be to go behind your partner’s back—and it’s something that could be liable to shatter your heart if it happened to you.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. “But this next part is just as important okay, so make sure you’re listening, yeah?”

“I’m listenin’.”

“If you want to cum, you get permission from me, first.”

#marc spector x reader

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