#i'm just saying i got the idea that before the events of the game they were more like childhood acquaintances | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpsserene · 6 months

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝟑: 𝐨𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. squirting. car sex. semi-public sex. ooc (out-of-character) oscar. overstimulation. mild possessive behavior. mild jealousy. vaginal fingering. vaginal sex. condom usage. the audacity of men. lando norris’ savior complex /jk. author’s overuse of italics and run-on sentences. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: water • tyla

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: what can i say, y'all. back at it with the unhinged thirst. every time i do one of these, they've been getting shorter and shorter. don't be afraid, for #4 (dr/mv) i'll be back on my game, they deserve it. yes gremlin lando appearance. also, i cannot imagine oscar ever acting this way, that's why i put the ooc tag? it's definitely a fun read tho (i think), along with the smut! thank you, loves, for the support on this event!

want to be added to my general taglist? or my f1 kinktober taglist? send me an ask!

thank you to my betas! @biancathecool for helping with my grammer and @barnestatic for her wonderful spoiled brat idea :))))

cross-posted on my ao3, httpsss

if you want to look at what i'm planning for ktober, or catch up on previous uploads here's my f1 kinktober masterlist and my general masterlist for all of my works!

oscar is known for his unfazed, composed and collected demeanor. he’s aware that some people say he has no personality–but, he’s just an introvert at the end of the day. oscar’s a man of few words: that’s what people who aren’t well acquainted with him would say. if you’ve had the pleasure of sticking around oscar long enough for him to become comfortable with you, you’ll learn that oscar has an incredibly complex personality. he’s overly sarcastic, has a niche sense of humor, and can ramble endlessly at you. but, he’s still a fairly calm and quiet individual. which is why the way oscar is about to scream at the top of his lungs in the middle of this mclaren event, would be considered uncharacteristic of him.

he originally invited you to join him tonight thinking that having you by his side would eliminate the social exhaustion he experiences at these types of sponsor events. however, the aussie failed to realize that you may introduce a…different problem, to tonight’s business party. when oscar asked you to join him two weeks ago, he was prepared for all of your objections–you’re both chronic homebodies, and you both hate partaking in small talk with balding, later-aged, cologne-drenched, white men who don’t know when to let a conversation die. he chose the perfect time to ask you (after you emerged from the bathroom post-self-care bath), and addressed all of your grievances.

oh, you don’t have anything to wear? he already bought you an outfit, had it altered to perfectly fit your measurements, and bought you a pair of heels and a purse to match. oh, you won’t be able to get your hair done in time? he already scheduled an appointment with your usual hairstylist the day before the event, paid all of her fees, and tipped her very nicely. oh, your nails aren’t done? he booked you a spot at your preferred nail salon for a premium mani-pedi, and has a few nail inspiration photos picked out if you can’t decide. if you need your lashes done or need to get waxed, he can make the call right now; he has them on standby to fit you in.

knowing the amount of phone calls oscar had to partake in to arrange all of this causes you to fold and agree to join him. there’s nothing more the two of you hate than making phone calls–well, besides the pr events.

oscar had chosen an alluring burnt-orange mesh corset and matching ruched ankle-length skirt that looks beautiful against your warm, soft and shining brown skin. your hair is silk-pressed, length reaching your mid-back and your edges are laid in a minimal manner, matching the simplicity of your makeup look. simple gold rings are spread across a few fingers, ears accessorized with a pair of small good hoops oscar gifted you, and his initials rest in the dip between your clavicles attached to a thin gold chain. objectively, you're considerably modestly dressed, the only skin you're showing is on your arms, shoulders, a smidge of your decolletage, and the tops of your feet in the low-heeled strappy sandals.

this is the start of what oscar failed to account for. he didn’t expect the outfit to hug your curves like plastic wrap. the whole night he’s had to forcefully deny himself the opportunity to stare at your ass, but that doesn’t mean the other men at the event have the same courtesy. he’s taken to burning holes with his eyes into anybody who lets their gaze linger over your form for a second too long. on a regular day, oscar is generally unaffected by anyone who appreciates your body (they can look, but the second they try to touch–you let them know exactly how they had you fucked up), but if he catches one more mclaren engineer undressing you with their eyes–he will make zac fire all of them; he’ll plan his own race strategy and do his goddamn pitstop by himself.

oscar also didn’t account for how your timid and sweet attitude would have everyone enamored with you; at first, watching everyone eagerly attune to your shy words was amusing to him, but it quickly became a nuisance. he was originally leading you around the room, doing his rounds at any important figures’ tables, and everything was fine. and then, oscar had made the obvious mistake of making you laugh–a pleasant stream of giggles spilling from your lips, dimples deepening, and smile widening at whatever small joke he made. he’s always thrilled to see how you throw your head back in amusement, how your hands clap together gleefully, and how your eyes squint in from the force of your laughter. as he shakes himself out of your dazzling trance, he attempts to rejoin the conversation–but every single person at the table remains entranced and wide-eyed at you.

this would be completely fine, of course, if it was a one-off occasion; but it’s not.

suddenly, every person oscar tries to thank for supporting mclaren, starts ignoring him and paying more attention to you. he’s literally the pilot of the car that these people are spending an absurd amount of money on, but they can’t even bother to try and pretend to listen to him. men and women alike are finding any excuse to prolong conversations with you, and even lean within your personal space with the excuse that ‘they can’t hear you very well because you’re so soft spoken.’ nobody can invade your personal space, but oscar. he has no choice but to do the very thing he hates–pda. you continue to circle around the room, his hand constantly resting on the small of your back or the dip of your waist. when you’re in the middle of listening to some completely unnecessary story a man is telling you, oscar constantly adjusts your hair, plays with your rings, and smooths down your skirt if he feels like they’re trying too hard. you banish oscar to getting you a glass of water when he begins to interject in conversations in a passive-aggressive manner.

his third strike off the night, might actually be an overall win in his books. when you saw oscar in his new fitted suit, you stared him dead in the eye and told him to ‘get naked and rail you’. it’s this beautiful deep cream color that pairs perfectly with the dark orange tone of your outfit, but the vest underneath the suit jacket highlights his tiny waist so clearly that it makes you want to scream. in between socializing, you overwhelm oscar with compliments, unable to stop telling him how handsome he looks. you surgically attach yourself to his side and hug his arm; taking an occasional squeeze of his bicep, playing with his cufflinks, and tracing the veins on the back of his hand. oscar practically runs to get you a refill of water because he’d be unable to stop himself from getting fully hard if you touched him any longer–the trousers hide nothing.

he can feel your burning gaze from across the room, and turns back to watch you after asking a waiter for water, and catches your eyes roaming the length of his body. in high-definition, he sees your tongue wetting your lips before you bite at your bottom lip–and then, your attention is stolen away from some random man who’s introducing himself to you and the group of ladies you found yourself accosted by as soon as oscar left your side.

and, that’s it for oscar. he thinks he may have heard his last-fucking-button being pressed inside his head, and seethes. he goes to push off from his leaned stance against the counter and makes to start his warpath, but a hand grasps at his shoulder. oscar turns around snappily, biting out an irritated and sarcastic, “can i help you?”

“woah! calm down now, mate. thought you were going to bite my head off for a second,” it’s lando, “if i were anybody else i’m sure there would be an unfortunate tabloid of ‘how oscar piastri is the most rude f1 driver on the grid’” lando jokes teasingly, yet a hint of seriousness leaks into his tone.

oscar nods, understanding the underlying warning within the brit’s teasing. he apologizes softly to lando, before glancing back over at you, and can infer that you charmingly informed the man that you have a boyfriend—based on the way you point in his direction. oscar watches the polite smile fade from your face as the man continues to bother you, and the murderous look rises to his face again.

“OKAY”, lando claps abruptly, startling not only oscar, but everyone in a 10 foot radius. lando waves everyone else’s eyes away, smiling like he didn’t do anything, and speaks underneath his breath, “go. i’ll cover for you.”

oscar’s mouth drops open, baffled, “what?”

“leave—get your girlfriend and go,” lando says matter-of-factly, his smile becoming genuine, “zac probably won’t like to hear that you looked particularly murderous, and he definitely won’t like hearing that you slaughtered our sponsors, and that i let it happen.”

oscar snorts before he thanks lando sincerely, and the brit dismisses him, “i’m just looking out for my rookie teammate as the senior driver for our team. i can’t let your horny teenage mindset become common knowledge to our esteemed guests.”

“first of all,” oscar says dryly, his grateful mood dissipating at the mocking, “i didn’t even know you knew the word ‘esteemed' existed,” lando scoffs, “and secondly, you are literally only two years older than me.”

lando looks at oscar with a blank stare and deadpans, “do you want to leave or not?”

oscar daps up his teammate in farewell, and makes his way over to you as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, your glass of water left behind on the counter. your back is facing him as he approaches and you're still unwillingly participating in conversation with the man who can’t take no for an answer. as he gets closer, he can piece together the conversation; the dude doesn’t believe you have a boyfriend and you must be lying to him, and you’re adamant that your boyfriend is very real.

“look, bro. even if i was lying about having a boyfriend, why would i give you my number now? like, i’m just supposed to forget how you’ve been harassing me—“

oscar rests his hand on your side, and when you turn your head to see who’s touching you, he leans down and kisses you. it’s a kiss deep enough to let everyone know who you’re leaving with tonight, but not deep enough to be salacious (he can hear lando’s cackle from the other side of the room).

you melt into his kiss before he pulls away, leaving you dazed and disoriented, stumbling into him. oscar drapes his left arm around your shoulder, guiding you to tuck into his side, while he offers his right hand to the offending man for a handshake. “it seems i haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you yet. i’m oscar, i drive for mclaren,” he introduces himself, sounding overly pleased.

the man angers, ignoring oscar’s extended hand and cockily states, “you should already know who i am. my family nicely lent you the mclaren you drove here tonight!”

“ah,” oscar smiles viciously, “if ‘your family’ kindly lent me the car, that would explain why i only remember your father’s name–and not his arrogant, disrespectful, and narcissistic trust-fund son’s name.”

the man stomps his foot in rage, like a spoiled brat, and questions, “who do you think you’re talking too?!”

oscar smirks, “nobody important, apparently,” (one of the ladies listening whispers a quiet ‘damn, that’s crazy’), oscar continues, “don’t worry, mate–i’ll make sure your father’s car returns home to him safely. should i bill you for any cleaning, in case i make a mess of it?”

the guy stumbles over a response before he scoffs and stomps away. oscar shrugs uncaring, before addressing the group of ladies who were cliqued to the side watching the whole interaction, “well. if you all don’t mind, i’m just going to steal her away from you ladies, if that’s okay?” (like there’s an option). the ladies fawn over oscar’s protectiveness before they let the two of you go, and then he starts herding you towards the exit.

it’s torture. in every five steps the two of you take, you're interrupted by various guests trying to catch you one last time. oscar feels like they’re all intentionally aggravating him; patting you on the arm, commenting on how eye-catching you look, and using the fact that the two of you are leaving to press a kiss to your hand in goodbye. you two burst out of the main doors and sigh in relief, for different reasons–for you, it’s because oscar didn’t give one of his sponsors brain damage, and for oscar, it’s because he’s one step closer to getting you in his bed.

you grasp at oscar’s hand, and he starts to lead you down the steps towards the valet, and as you fall into step at his side, you speak softly under your breath, “i can understand why you kissed me like that inside because the dude was being an asshole–even though you were marking your territory like some kind of dog–but, please; don’t tear this poor man’s throat out for helping me into the car.”

the australian remains quiet, properly chastised and works on releasing the pent up effect of the annoyances from inside the venue. everything is going well; the valet asks oscar for his parking ticket, and he goes to grab the keys, but stops just before he makes to start heading to the car, and turns back to you two and says, “i don’t know if i told you when you walked in but–you look incredibly beautiful tonight, miss. you could be a model, seriously. like, you should feel so lucky to have a woman like her–”

all attempts of oscar finding his peace are thrown out of the window. he interrupts the dude’s rambling, and bites out, “hey man, y’know what. i can just take the keys to the car. we can walk to it.”

the valet stutters, confused, “a-are you sure, i mean it’s like pretty far in the back. i can run and get it no pro–”

“it’s FINE! i mean, it’s cool, we can use the extra steps, y’know. enjoy the breeze and everything,” oscar says, slightly maniacal. there’s no breeze, it’s warm. the valet’s and your eyes meet for a second and a shared thought of “he’s trippin” is passed telepathically.

the valet concedes, not wanting to upset the f1 driver any farther and tosses him the keys. as the two of you are passing by, oscar hands the man a bill that’s probably too big based on the man’s astonished gasp. you call out to the man, continuing to walk further in the lot, “sorry about him! he just gets a little touchy about strangers driving his car, y’know?” oscar grumbles lowly next to you, and you smack him on the arm, “what did you want me to say? ‘oh sorry, my boyfriend just wants to fuck me really badly to soothe his needless jealousy?’”

“as long as he knows who’s the one who gets to take you home and fuck you.”

“oscar!” you squeak, “we both know we’d die of embarrassment if you said that. i can’t even imagine those words coming out of your mouth, in that order.”

you guys eventually puzzle out where the car is after several remote beeps of the car’s horn, and find that it’s literally tucked away in the last row, far corner with no surrounding cars for two rows.

oscar doesn’t open your door like he usually does, and leads you around to the driver's side. he opens the door, pushes the seat back as far as it goes, and sits down. without saying anything, he loosens his tie and goes to unbuckle his belt before you reach down and grab at his hand, bewildered, “oscar jack! what the fuck are you doing?”

he blinks, “i’m fucking you, right now. it’s too long of a drive back—i’m going to crash the car if you keep sitting next to me in that goddamn outfit. i was going to take you to the bathroom inside, but i figured you’d at least prefer the car. you can be a little louder here.”

your mouth dries, “you said they loaned you an incredibly rare, vintage mclaren, babe. i’m not gonna-“

oscar wrestles his way out of his suit jacket, spreads it underneath him on the leather seat, and pats his lap. “problem solved.”

shifting your weight, you glance around nervously. oscar is right, you would prefer the car over the bathroom. all those people inside who could overhear, gossip, and spread the news of how rookie mclaren, f1 driver, oscar piastri, had you yelling his name in the middle of an event. you’d pass.

“oh, c’mon now, babe. you didn’t think i saw the way you were eating me alive with your eyes inside,” your boyfriend teases, “i know you‘ve at least gotten a little wet for me already, haven’t you?”

that’s all it takes; the australian acting possessive and feening to get inside you is more than enough to have you straddling his lap and pulling the car door shut with a slam.

oscar tugs you into dirty make out, and you get lost in his pink lips, tugging teeth, and explorative tongue. the last of your breath tapers out in a reedy moan, and you break the kiss to pant against his lips, and oscar laughs. his laughter spreads through your chest, and it has your hips rolling against the bulge you feel underneath you. his amusement is cut off, and his hands fly to grip at your hips. he starts tugging you against him in a filthy grind, and choked off moans from the two of you start to fill the car.

you press kisses to oscar’s jaw line, paving a path down to his wide strong neck with your tongue. you suck on small patches of skin, not using enough suction to leave a mark, but enough for oscar to become aware of the fantasization that you could. the aussie gasps at every random suckle of your lips as he scrambles to pull the skirt up your legs. you shift your hips up to make it easier for him, as your hands feel down his torso to his belt. it unbuckles fairly easily, and you shove it out of the way, to unzip the slacks and pull his cock out.

oscar moans, throwing his head back at the feel of your hand on his length, and you get entranced in the trap that his pale thick neck is, again. you hum against his neck, introducing teeth alongside the ache of the suction of your mouth, and bully the collar of his shirt out of the way to find a space to leave a few marks. oscar’s breath freezes at the first hickey he feels you leave, but the rapid inhale he takes next clears his mind enough to have his right hand pull your panties to the side, and move to caress your heat.

you shudder on top of him, your breathy sigh amplified within the car. oscar sinks two fingers inside of you, and a much louder moan is tugged out. your hands fly up to grasp onto his shoulder, and your head tilts backward away from his neck in pleasure. his fingers thrust into you gently for a few beats slowly working to open you up for him and once he feels your cunt starting to relax, his thumb reaches to press at your clit. whines fill the air, as you lean all the way back, resting your back on the steering wheel allowing oscar all the space he needs to stretch you out. his fingers start curling as they drag out of you, and you can feel the pads of his fingers rubbing over a soft spot on the front of your walls.

oscar’s eyes were stuck marveling over the overwhelmed expression on your face, but once he starts feeling wetness dripping down his arm he glances down, and curses out a rough, “fuck, baby—you’re dripping all over me.” your cheeks burn hot, and you can’t tell if that’s out of humiliation or the effect of his awe-filled voice. your right hand releases his shoulder, and bats at his arm, before tugging at his wrist to pull his fingers out, “that’s enough, mmm, just get in me already.”

oscar eagerly draws away; he uses his clean hand to tug his wallet out of his back pocket, and tugs a condom out with a smidge of struggle before handing it to you. you snatch it out of his hand, biting it open and rolling it over his cock, and once it’s on, you tease, “jeez, osc. you really were planning on jumping me in the middle of the event tonight—grabbing a condom and everything; you think i’m that easy?”

he chuckles, satisfied, his hand drenched in your wetness rubbing over his cock to get him slick, and teases back, “you’re about to ride my cock in the parking lot of said event, pretending to be worried about ruining the seats of this vintage car. i’m not calling you easy, but it doesn’t hurt to be prepared, does it?”

your cheeks are definitely burning from humiliation this time around, but you huff, ignoring him checking you. you tug his hand away, raising your hips, and guide him to your entrance with your own hand, before slowly sinking down.

twin sets of moans fill the air as he bottoms out; one of his hands reaches to palm at your ass (it’s sticky, so it must be the one he fingered you with), and the other grips at your waist tightly. you squirm on top of him, knees barely managing to find enough room to prop on the seat to give you a stable base. once you feel stable in your cramped position, you give a testing grind of your hips, and from there, it’s lights out.

oscar lets you set the pace for a few thrusts, suffering in the languid rock of your hips; you’re torturously tight around him, and he can only groan at the feeling of you wrapped around him. his chest heaves, before he brings both hands to halt your hips, and starts fucking up into you rough and quick. a scream jostles out of your throat at the unexpected change of speed, but you just take it with no complaints, allowing yourself to go limp against the wheel of the car to hold your body upright. he moves your body for you, pulling you downwards to meet his upward thrusts; and you feel him constantly applying pressure against that one tender spot right under your navel.

your boyfriend revels in the sound of the moans he’s punching out of your throat, admiring the way your head is thrown back—mouth open wide, eyes scrunched tight, lips bruised and bitten to hell. it’s a lewd picture, painted by himself. the car rocks along to his frantic rhythm, windows fogging, and sweat begins to form on both of your skin. the aussie’s core tightens; he won’t last much longer, you’ve had him half-hard the whole night.

a frustrated grunt escapes oscar, and you hum questionably about to ask what’s wrong–but his right hand leaves your waist to furiously start circling your clit, and an ear piercing shriek leaves you. “c’mon now, babe. ah-be good and come f’me yeah? im so close, baby–please,” he babbles, the last shred of sanity leaving him. his hips don’t falter once–to you it feels like they’re moving quicker, every sensitive spot receiving attention from the sharp snaps of them.

you cry out, it’s all too much; your hand reaches down to press against his navel in a feeble attempt to stop him from stroking so deep and roughly, and incoherent pleads try and tumble out of your mouth, “mm! osc–no! ah–too much, baby! it’s too much–hngh–feels weird–s-slow down!” it’s like his ears are filled with cotton; he can hear you begging down at him but can’t make out what your saying over the blood rushing in his ears. he’s trapped staring at your pretty cunt, watching the obscene amount of wetness coming out of you–the suit jacket underneath him is completely ruined, and he off-handedly thinks it won’t be saving the leather upholstery.

your legs start quivering and trembling–it damn near looks like you're freezing to death, even though the car has become as humid as a sauna. your own orgasm shocks you, and your eyes roll back erotically–unable to give oscar any warning. and in your last moment of awareness, you realize that something feels different, but it’s too late.

you choke on your scream of, “oscar, fuck!” as fluid gushes out of your cunt, and the first wave is enough to completely drench oscar’s pants, and oscar finally returns to the moment in amazement. he eagerly brushes his hand against your clit, and shortens his strokes to quick little jabs to force more of your juices out, and you can only ride along. you try to slam your legs shut, to jostle oscar’s hand away, but it’s futile with his torso propping you open for him. you’re sobbing messily, as he forces more liquid to spray from your cunt–and he moans out his own orgasm, ripped from him in surprise. the australian halts his stimulation this time around when you frantically tug his wrist away when the pleasure melds to pain, and allows himself to get a few more jerks of his hips in.

you fall forward, collapsing into his chest–the squelch of your thighs meeting his pant-covered ones has him humming and grinding his hips into you as gently as he can. the two of you shake against each other, hearts rabbiting as you catch your breath. oscar’s hands rise to rub at your back, bringing you down from the aftershocks still trembling over your body.

“i-i’ve never squirted before,” you whisper into his neck.

your boyfriend hums softly, “did you like it?”

he feels you nod against him shyly.

“then, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he comforts, knowing if he seems approving of it, you’ll be quicker to accept it as something good, “how i’m going to explain the ruined suit and car seat to mclaren on the other hand…”

a shaky laugh from you causes oscar to smile, “i told you you shouldn’t fuck me in the car.”

“how was i supposed to know that tonight would be the night i’d made you gush all over me?! i was hoping that when the time came we’d at least be on a couch,” he whines.

“shut the fuck up,” you joke, “i want a live play by play when you explain the cleaning bill to zac.”

the aussie pauses, faking thoughtfulness, “maybe i should send the bill to the trust-fund baby. zac would back me up–he’s american, he’d probably find it hilarious.”

oscar gently shifts you over to the passenger seat, and you tug your skirt all the way down, and he fights his way out of his slacks that stuck to his thighs with your wetness. he manages to wrangle them off and kicks them to the side of the car floor along with the soiled suit jacket, after fishing the keys out of them, sitting out in his boxers, and glances over to see you adjusting your appearance as best as you possibly can.

“you want a mcflurry?” the aussie offers.

“as long as we can get a fry with it,” you smile at the random shift in conversation, allowing him to hide his embarrassment.

oscar turns the keys in the ignition, and the engine rolls into life with a deep, vibrating hum. he catches your legs pressing together tightly, and you squirm at the purr of the engine under your seat.

“well,” oscar starts nonchalantly as he reverses out of the spot, “you have the time that it takes to get from the drive-through to the flat to finish eating–because as soon as we get home, i’m taking you to bed and learning how to make you squirt, consistently. i don’t care how long it takes, or how many orgasms you have–i’ll keep going ‘til you come dry, babe.”

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld @buendiabebeta @butterfly-lover @lana-d3l-rey @dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhajj @miahgonzalez16 @jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @sweetpiccolo-blog @my-ylenia @zaynzierulez @reblog-princess

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justmeinadaze · 2 months

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Don't Be So Hard (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"Don't be so hard on yourself The name of the game is humiliation, And thanks for your admiration. I never thought I'd say this: The way that we play has its confrontation, And guilt by association."

A/N: New version of these beings for me to try out. Thank you @bimbobaggins69 for the idea by just being amazing <3.

This take place 10 years after events in season 4 so about 1996.

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N (whew! That's a mouth full lol), SMUT, spanking, choking, degrading, voyeurism, use of sir, FLUFF, Eddie and Steve have an established relationship. ANGST (because I'm me), reader is plus size and gets name called by the jocks (they call her names like piggy), one of them does assault her (pushes her and yells at her; brief), Steddie saves the day, mentions of reader staring in a play that makes her anxious due to her body.

This whole dynamic is technically angsty (which is why I love it muahaha).

Word Count: 8679

“I fucking hate schools.”, you grumble under your breath as you hit snooze on your alarm for the fifth time that morning. The beginning of your junior year spring semester at Hawkins University started today but the idea of getting out of bed sounded exhausting. In Hawkins, everyone was in everyone else’s business and being the bigger girl some of the jocks felt the need to butt in more than anyone else.

“Hey Y/N. Did you put on more weight this summer? Those jeans look like they’re about to pop!”

“Should you be eating that, piggy? Maybe try a salad every now and then.”

You thought when you left high school, you wouldn’t have to deal with this crap anymore but unfortunately some of it followed you to college.

When you finally made it to your first class it was right before it began so you could avoid any unwanted conversation. You weren’t so lucky.

“Heeeeeeey, Y/N.”, football star Martin Click cooed obnoxiously as he leaned towards you from his seat above yours. “I was hoping we’d have some classes together, piggy. I missed you over the summer. You couldn’t bother to dress up for me?”

“Oh, sorry Martin, if I had known we would be sharing a class I would have made myself uglier but unfortunately for me that’s impossible since I’m so fucking sexy. Maybe you can tutor me on how to be a sloppy asshole.”

The breathy laugh that echoed to your ears caught you off guard as you glanced up towards the front of the classroom and met the chocolate eyes of your new Literature & Writing professor.

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper as red paints your face.

“No, no. No reason to be sorry. I thought it was a good comeback.”, he grinned making you blush even more. “Mr. Click, should I tell Coach Harrington that you’re more focused on ladies attire than my class or are we going to behave this semester?”

Rolling his eyes, Martin leaned back in his chair making the professor smugly smirk as he winked in your direction.

“As I’m sure ya’ll are aware, I’m professor Munson and if you’re here because of my reputation then I will kindly ask you to leave. I’m not here to talk about my past or my family history.”

You had heard rumors about Eddie Munson and of course knew all about him being on the run back when you were little. You parents never let you leave the house or play outside for fear that the “satanic Hawkins killer” would snatch you up and make you his next victim. As you grew up and read more about what happened, it seemed less to you like he did anything at all and obviously the chief agreed because Mr. Munson was never tried or did any prison time.

No, you weren’t interested in his past. You were interested in the things he could teach you. After overhearing one of his lectures, you were fascinated with the way he told a story and explained the material. He got so animated to an adorable degree and as a theater major you thought it would be fun to see how he interpreted literature while getting the final English credit you needed.

When no one moved he smiled and began talking about usual first day things such as the syllabus and what to expect over the semester. After the class had ended and everyone left, you stayed behind and quietly made your way to his desk.

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if I was rude or—”

“I didn’t think you were rude. If anything, he was and definitely needed to be put in his place.”, he interrupted without looking your way as he sorted through papers in front of him. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes, sir. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some of the plays you were in on campus here. I dragged my friend to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you actually got him to pay attention.”, Mr. Munson smiled as he finally lifted his head to look your way. “You were very good.”

“Oh, um, thank you very much. That means a lot coming from you.” He tilts his head at your comment as blush fills your cheeks again. “I just meant I’ve seen some of your lectures before and you’re an amazing storyteller. You excite me, I mean you make me want to pay attention to, I mean… ok, let’s pretend I just left right after class and didn’t just embarrass myself.”

Hugging your books to your chest, you power walk out the door as his chuckle fills your ears.

***

With a break between periods, you hastily headed for the gym after lunch to change and get out on to the track by the field. Contrary to popular belief, you were fairly athletic despite your size and enjoyed letting off steam as you pumped your legs as fast as they could take you.

As your music blared loudly in your ears, the feeling of eyes watching you grabbed your attention towards the bleachers where Coach Harrington was standing with his arms crossed and leaning to the side as Professor Munson balanced his arm on his shoulder, murmuring something to him as their eyes followed you.

Trying to block them out, you continued to focus on the path in front of you but was blindsided when a football whizzed past your nose almost hitting you.

“Whoa! Sorry, piggy. Have to keep your eyes open around here.”, Martin laughs as you roll your eyes.

Glancing their way, you noticed both men were standing straighter as if prepared to defend you if needed. You weren’t a weak little girl and for whatever reason you strongly felt like you needed to show them that. As you pick up the football one of the players lifts his hands running towards you as if expecting you to not be able to throw it but at the last minute you throw a perfect spiral to their coach who doesn’t even hesitate as he lifts his hands and catches it seamlessly from the air.

“Well, shit, gentlemen. Looks like I have a new passer.”

“Oh, no thank you, Coach Harrington. If I ever played a sport it would be with a team that doesn’t suck.”

Again, Mr. Munson snicked through his teeth as the man he was leaning on flashed you a big grin.

#############

That night you decided to run after hours, thinking you would be alone but were surprised when you saw Coach Harrington on the track.

“Shit! Sorry, you scared the hell out of me.”, he nervously chuckled.

“I’M sorry. I thought no one would be out here.”

“Yeah, normally there aren’t.”, he teased raising an eyebrow at you. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

As he took off continuing to jog, you pushed your headphones on your head and started your run. After a couple of laps with you in your zone, your feet abruptly slipped out from under you as you tumbled forward onto the gravel.

“Whoa!”, Coach Harrington shouted in concern as he ran to your side and kneeled down. “Are you alright?”

“Ow. Yeah, I just…tripped. Fuck that hurt.”

“Let me see.” Without any hesitation, his hand gripped your leg and looked it over. “Oof, you may have a pretty good bruise there but you should be alright.” Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to you to help you up which you eagerly accepted while he gripped you tightly and led you towards the bleachers. “You must have been deep in thought because you passed me a couple of times and didn’t even turn your head.”

“I did? Yeah, I’m sorry. I just have some things on my mind.”

“No, I know what you mean. Eddie—Professor Munson told me what happened in his class. If any of those guys bother you again, please let me know. I’ll make them run laps or even sit them out of a game if I have to. Nothing scares these kids more than not being able to play.”

You knew of Steve Harrington mostly because of his parents. The Harrington’s were prominent members of the community and very well respected. In your high school there had been pictures of him from his days on the basketball and swim team when he was a student.

After he graduated, other rumors began to circulate about him spending time with the “freaks of Hawkins” but who cares. Not you especially since you had been labeled a freak since elementary.

“I, um, I hope you didn’t take offense to what I said. Your team doesn’t suck just…some of your players. I mean, not their playing ability just their personalities. FUCK, why can’t I talk today?”

His smile widens as he laughs from his gut making you don your own smile.

Coach Harrington’s eyes meet yours for a moment before a controlled laugh escapes his lips.

“What, um, what were you listening to so loud that you didn’t hear me yelling for you to slow down?”

Giggling, you gesture towards your Walkman.

“Just some CD I burned to get me pumped. Right now, it’s playing ‘Master of Puppets’ by Metallica. Have you heard that song?”

Something dark flashes over his face before he awkwardly nods and gets up leaving you alone on the bleachers as you stare after him.

***

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, you growl as you push on the girl’s locker room door to find it locked. “What is going on with me this semester?”

Glancing around and seeing no one, you brave the boy’s locker room, finding it open, assuming that in his weird state, maybe, Mr. Harrington forgot to lock up. As quickly as you could you showered and began to change into some comfy clothes.

The sound of something hitting the wall nearby froze you in fear as you gaze scanned the area.

No one nearby. It could be the janitor cleaning the coach’s office.

Quietly, you threw your things over your shoulder and tiptoed that way with the intention of ducking under the window of the area so you weren’t seen but the muffled sound of moaning had you pausing again.

“Mmm…Steve…Steven. Wh-What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s ok. I’m ok. I’m right here, Steve. You saved me.”

Peeking through the window, you saw their forehead’s pressed together as Eddie gently caressed his cheek with his thumbs. A small sigh left your lips when they began to kiss each other again. With a bit of needy force, Steve turned him around and pulled his back flush to his chest. Gently nibbling on his neck, he reached around and unbuckled Eddie’s pants, pushing them down to free his cock that he promptly began stroking.

Fuck me he’s big.

You practically drooled at the sight, licking your lips as your palm absently glided under your shirt to rub your tummy.

With his free hand, Steve sloppily yanked down his sweats making you moan as you watched him spit in his palm and rub it between Eddie’s cheeks before gradually guiding himself into his entrance.

“Fuck, Steve. That’s it, baby.”

Clinging to each other tightly, Steve thrust his hips at a steady rhythm and you marveled at the sight as your fingers drifted into your own sweatpants and you began circling your clit.

“H-Harder, Steve, please.”

“Please.”, you whisper as you try to keep your eyes open and on them.

“Like this, honey? Fuck you feel so good, Eddie. I love you.”

Arching his back, your professor craned his neck to kiss the man’s lips as he pumped into him as hard as he could without hurting him.

“I love you to, baby. Shit, I’m going to cum. Cum with me, Steve.”

Nodding aggressively, he chased their highs until both men grunted and came. While they softly kissed each other your body trembled as you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your moans as the coil snapped. It wasn’t enough as both their heads turned meeting your eyes as you were coming down from cloud 9.

No one moved as the three of you stared each other.

Holding up his hands in surrender, Steve pulled out as Eddie straightened up, worry painting both their faces.

“Y/N…”

Before they could do anything else, you turned and quickly ran out of the locker room.

##############

What the fuck was I thinking?! I shouldn’t have watched them. Two teachers in the MALE locker room while I was touching myself. Shit. I’m going to be expelled for sure.

Sitting on the stage of your theater class, you focused on the script in front of you as you prepared for an audition your professor recommended. Mrs. Lilah always felt constrained by Hawkins when it came to material but this year she quiet literally said fuck them and decided to do Rocky Horror Picture Show.

As you read through your lines for Magenta, a clearing throat caught your attention.

“Hey Eddie!”, your theater teacher beamed as she waved at him and he smiled back before jumping onto the stage to sit beside you. He smelled strongly like cigarettes and a dash of cologne that had your head spinning as you continued to keep your eyes on the paper in front of you.

“Hey Lilah. I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I just need to talk to Y/N here about an assignment real quick.”

“No problem. She does have her audition for Janet in a few minutes and I’m dying to see her interpretation.”

That caught your attention as your head swiveled her way.

“I’m doing what now?”

“For Janet, honey. I think you’d be perfect. She’s a bit timid at first but comes out of her shell.”

“But…but…she’s in a bra for a good chunk of the play.”

“Yeah…does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Hm, yeah, Y/N, does people seeing your body in the shadows in an intimate way make you uncomfortable?”, Eddie murmured low enough so only you could hear.

“Let’s just do the audition and if you prove me right, we can talk about the wardrobe, ok?”

Flashing her a timid smile, you turn to give your attention to your professor.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Skipping my class this morning? Oh, you mean when you watched me and my boyfriend have sex in the boy’s locker room?”

“The girl’s one was locked and I needed to shower—”

“That explains why you were in the locker room but not why you were there watching. Are you going to run and tell all your little friends about how you saw the murderous freak fucking the pretty, rich football coach?”

“What? No. I would never—”

“Mhmm. Look how much will it take to keep your mouth shut?”

“Nothing. I don’t—”

“Please, Y/N! Everyone has a price and Steve doesn’t deserve to lose all he’s worked hard for. So, tell me—”

“Will you let me talk!?” Glancing around to make sure no one heard your outburst; you lower your voice as you continue. “I don’t want anything or any money. I won’t tell anyone. I genuinely don’t care about your private lives. I’m really sorry I watched. I shouldn’t have…I just…”

Your professor’s eyes focused intently on you as he waited for you to continue.

“I was attracted. The way you two kiss and the way he holds you…no one’s ever been that way with me…” When your eyes dared to finally meet his, you expected anger but those gorgeous chocolate irises displayed a softness you appreciated. “I swear, Mr. Munson, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

Nodding, he jumped down from the stage before turning to face you again.

“I think under the circumstances you can call me Eddie. Not in class but… I also think you should play Janet. You’re a very beautiful young lady. Don’t let any of these superficial idiots take away that lead role from you just because of how you look.”

#############

A couple of weeks had passed and nothing of note happened with school or your classes. You were cast as Janet, allowing Eddie’s advice to drive you as you maneuvered the role. Your professor and Coach Harrington had minimal contact with you but you always felt their eyes following you around.

Tonight, you were studying in the Hawkins diner off campus. You preferred it here then the library after hours because not only could you munch on some delicious food but no one was usually there that you knew.

As the bell above the door dinged, you glanced up from the novel Eddie had you guys reading to see said professor and his boyfriend entering the establishment and taking a seat. You couldn’t help but wonder how hard being out like this must be for them. They couldn’t share a booth or be flirty. They couldn’t hold hands or kiss, at least not visibly where people could see. You hated that for them since both seemed like good men. You wondered why they stayed behind here in this terrible little conservative town instead of moving anywhere else.

Hoping to slip out unnoticed and allow them privacy this time, you gathered your things and placed some money on the table.

“Is that my favorite piggy?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of Martin’s voice as you try to ignore him and head out the door. A hand abruptly grabs you but you slap it away.

“Don’t touch me.”, you hiss.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s Saturday and we just left an awesome party. Can’t you and I get along for once?!” His friends around the table behind him snickered as a big devilish smile stretched across his face.

“If you weren’t such a fucking dick maybe. Now leave me alone.”

As you storm out the front door to your car, something tugs your backpack, ripping it open as all your books and papers tumble to floor. Martin’s hand wraps around your throat and pushes you against the trunk of your car.

“You will show some fucking respect especially in front of my friends.”

“Aw, did little Martin get his feelings hurt?”, you sass. “Didn’t realize you had any.”

Your knee rises as you hit him in his stomach but he’s still faster as his palm reaches out to grab your shirt tugging you down hard onto the pavement.

Abruptly, someone grabs his own jacket collar and tosses him roughly away from you as Eddie quickly maneuvers around them both, kneeling to your level.

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Can you stand?” Silently nodding, you take the hand he offers to you and rise to your feet. He notices immediately that your blouse is torn and without hesitation shimmies out of his leather jacket and places it around your shoulders.

“Mr. Click, on Monday, you will see me in my office.”, Coach Harrington growled as he glared at the boy.

“Oh, fuck you! That fat little whore pushed me into it!”

“HEY!”, he bellowed making you jump as your teacher rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “I would advise you to stop speaking. You’re already in a lot of trouble.”

“Pfft, you think I’m scared of you, Steve Harrington?! Yeah, my parents told me all about you and the disappointment you became to Hawkins. You’re fucking pathetic! I’m surprised they even hired you to coach us let alone your friend the freak! I guess those satanic rituals DO fucking work.”

The man’s body language stiffened before he did that controlled chuckle you had heard before.

“Alright, Martin, we can do this right now then. I was only going to suspend you but you know, since I’m so fucking pathetic I think I’ll just go all in. You’re off my team.”

“WHAT?!”

Turning around, he ignored the boy’s continued expletives as he faced you both.

“Eddie, get her books and all her things. We’ll take her back to our house, if that’s ok with you.”, he asked pointedly in your direction. All you could do was nod and try to bend down to get your thing but the metalhead stopped you before descending to the concrete to collect your things.

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU’LL REGRET THIS!”

“Take it up with the dean. Until then on Monday, I want your shit out of my locker room or else I will throw it in the garbage. Come on, guys.”

Coach Harrington opened the back seat door for you, startling you when he closed the door a bit too hard.

***

When they parked outside of a home, neither moved as Eddie’s eyes scanned over his partner’s face.

“You ok, babe?”

His ringed fingers reached out to caress through his hair and in the rearview mirror you could see Steve close his eyes as he exhaled.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get inside.”, he answered curtly as he came around and opened your door and you followed both men inside. You stood in their living room silently as they threw their keys down and Eddie disappeared down a hallway.

When he came back, he handed you a t-shirt that read “Def Leopard: Tour of 88!”

“Go put this on and we can see about fixing your own.”

His eyes followed you as you entered their bedroom where the bathroom was located and shut the door. Removing your blouse, you could see a slight bruise forming where the strap of your backpack had been on your shoulder and some redness around your neck where Martin had grabbed you. Swallowing your pain at the sight, you put on the shirt they provided and folded his jacket, placing it nicely on the countertop.

Your eyes took in their fairly average bathroom, smirking slightly at the hair gel you imagined was Steve’s as Eddie’s hair was always wild even during class when he pulled it back. Both their colognes and bathroom products were side by side like any couples but the few things you knew about them had each personality standing out. Cigarettes were by the window near the bathtub where you imagined Eddie smoked as they took a bath together. On the floor by the shower, were some handheld barbells you imagined Steve used while Eddie took a shower or got ready so they could talk to each other about their days.

Walking back out to their bedroom, you noticed a guitar against the wall and grinned at its slightly cheesy 80s aesthetic. You remembered once hearing that Eddie Munson used to be in a band but for the life of you couldn’t remember the name. You wondered if he still played.

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

What could he have meant by that…

Your gaze shifted to their dresser that had a vanity mirror attached with pictures taped to it. There were so many images of them together that made your smile widen but there were also photos of Steve with a young lady you remember seeing around Hawkins. She used to work at Family Video until a few years ago but you weren’t sure where she moved on to from there. Did you remember Steve there? No… you were pretty young though and focused on your own carefree life.

There were pictures of Eddie with the Hellfire club. They were still active when you went to Hawkins High filled with a cool group of kids you hung out with from time to time. There were whispers of the man that created it but everyone in the club always said good things about the former Dungeon Master.

They must have been in two different worlds in high school.

What must have happened to bring them together?

“Steven, you need to calm down.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice caught your attention after something loud slammed in the kitchen. You tiptoed down their hallway and paused on the other side of the wall.

“Fucking asshole kid, I swear to God.”

“Baby, it’s not the first time someone has said those things to us and it won’t be the last especially since we chose to stay here.”

“We didn’t exactly choose and that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Why then?”

“She…she seems like a nice girl.”

“She IS a nice girl.” Eddie sighs as he lowers his voice. “Steven, she’s a student and a lot younger than us.”

“Not a lot. Jesus, you make us sound ancient. She’s, what, how old you were when you graduated high school.”

“Hey, ok first off, rude.” They both giggle making you grin. “Second, again, she’s a student. She’s MY student. I could get in way more trouble than you.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

“I swear, sweetheart, don’t we have enough chaos fucking hiding our relationship?”

“Oh, come on, Ed, you don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just… yeah, she’s beautiful and adorable and… fuck. We shouldn’t talk about this with her here.”

Collecting your bearings, you walk around the wall and knock on it lightly.

“Hey, there she is. I, uh, I fixed your backpack. Let me, um, see if I can salvage this top for you here.”, Eddie smiles as he takes it from your hands and heads for their couch.

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Mhmm. I can’t like whip up a brand new outfit or anything but I can patch things together.”

“Are you alright? Do you need any Band-Aids or an ice pack?”, Steve asks from his place by the counter.

“No, I’m ok. My throat is a bit sore but…” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s turning around and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a rag, and sitting in front of you on their coffee table to place it on your neck. “Thank you. I like being choked but not like that or by that asshole.”

They both glance at each other as you blush.

“Yeah, probably not a joke to make right now. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”, Eddie says from behind you.

“Sorry.” They laugh making you grin to yourself as you look down at your feet. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m not…actively…trying to do that.”

“Oh, no worries, honey. Trust me. What is he going to say? ‘Coach Harrington kicked me off the team after I drunkenly assaulted a girl?’ I’m pretty sure the dean will side with me on that one.”

Your silence makes them nervous and they exchange another look.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“I’m thinking about how I never expected Martin to do what he did. He’s been mean to me since freshman year but never aggressive like that.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right, princess?”

“Yeah, I know. I…I…” Unable to control them, the tears began to flow and a ring laced hand delicately reached for your shoulder, moving the things in his lap aside so he could hold you to his chest. Steve placed his own palm on your jeaned thigh and comfortingly rubbed against the material.

Once again you were engulfed in the scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne as his cheek rested on the top of your head. You couldn’t explain why but you felt safe here with their hands on you encased between them.

It had been a few months since your last relationship and you could feel yourself dropping into that particular headspace the longer they comforted you.

“I’m…I’m also thinking…about what I saw that night…in the locker room. How you two took care of each other…”

All movement on your body ceased as they even held their breathes.

“H-How about we get you home, Y/N? I can give you this shirt after our next class.”

Eddie lightly pushed you to the side as he tried to stand but you hastily grabbed his arm stopping him.

“I heard you. You said I was beautiful and sweet.”

As your little voice flowed through his ears, his eyes squeezed shut trying to keep control.

“Y/N, maybe, he’s right. Maybe, we should get you home before—”

“Before what, Steve?” This was the first time you were using his name out loud and the notion sent tingles all through your body feeling like a little girl who misbehaved.

“Hey. You show him respect, little girl. That’s Mr. Harrington or sir.”, Eddie scolded in gruff tone.

“Edward…”

“No, Steven. Little girl wants to play with the grownups, then that’s how we will treat her. Now, we said, you’re going home. Grab your things and head towards the front door.”

“Why did you bring me back here, Mr. Munson? You could have taken me back to my dorm but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because people shouldn’t be seeing a professor drop off a student on campus.”

“But Steve said he was taking me to your house out loud to Martin.”

The man’s hand firmly came down on the side of your thigh making you yelp as you bit your bottom lip.

“He said show me respect.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.” Placing your hand on top of his, your thumb tenderly ran along his skin as you leaned against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Like I said…no one has ever taken care of me or looked out for me the way you two do with each other.”

You were slightly surprised when his fingers gently came around and brushed your hair away from your face.

“We brought you back here because we thought you were safer with us here. After what he did, we thought that’s what you needed.”

“Am I not safe here?”, you whisper as you can’t help but rub your thighs together.

“Y/N… Eddie and I have been through a lot. What you saw in my office isn’t always how we are when we’re intimate. We’re not always…soft.”

“But I promise you, princess, we are nothing like Martin. If you wanted to leave…right now…that’s ok. We can take you home or call you a cab if that makes you more comfortable.”

He was giving you an out; they both were. You could leave right now and the three of you could pretend this never happened. You could pretend that Steve’s large hand on your upper thigh wasn’t turning you on as you thought about how those long fingers would feel inside of you. You could pretend that Eddie’s touch wasn’t getting progressively slower as the pads of his own fingers traced your cheek making your pussy clench around nothing. You could pretend the notion of doing something you shouldn’t and being at the mercy of these two men’s wills didn’t drive you crazy. You could do that…

Or…

“I don’t mind it not being soft, Mr. Harrington. I trust you and Mr. Munson.” Both men exchanged on final look of caution before your last sentence pushed caution to the wind. “Please, I need you.”

“I think since you saw us in vulnerable position we should get the same courtesy.”, Steve replied in a much huskier tone than before. Taking your hands in his, he pulled you to your feet and pushed the coffee table out of the way before taking the seat you had just been in. On impulse, Eddie leaned closer to him as the other boy wrapped his arm around his shoulder.

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

As your eyes shifted between their heavy gazes, you lifted off the shirt he gave you, unbuttoned your pants, and shimmied them a bit clumsily down your legs.

You stood there waiting for more instruction as they continued to stare at your body.

“Did you see our cocks?”

“Yes.”

Steve smirked as his boyfriend began to kiss his neck while his palm traveled along his chest down his stomach.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember that, Y/N. I don’t like repeating myself and Eddie is a lot nicer than I am in here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered when the metalhead’s palm grazed the bulge in his jeans.

“Now, if you saw or cocks, then why are you stopping?”

“You said…I should be vulnerable, sir.”

Your small voice had them groaning as Eddie fumbled with the pretty boy’s belt almost desperately.

“Fuck. Don’t move.” He commanded towards you as his head turned to capture his boyfriend’s lips. Lifting his hips, he helped Eddie blindly pull his jeans down just enough to free his length. As he started to lean over his lap, Steve hastily stopped him with a smile. “You don’t want to see her, honey?”

He chuckled as he focused his attention back on you.

“Do you feel vulnerable, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Not enough to not finger yourself out in the open though, huh? I mean at least you had pants on.”

“I-I-I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t. Take off the rest so we can see you.”

While doing what he said, you watched as Steve pushed down Eddie’s pants as well and both men kissed passionately in front of you as they stroked each other’s cocks.

“Y/N, is there anything we should know? Anything we should avoid?”

“No, Mr. Munson.”, you answered, appreciating his soft tone as he asked his series of questions.

“You said you liked being choked but is there anything physical we shouldn’t do?”, Eddie groaned out as Steve lifted off his shirt.

You heard his question but couldn’t form an answer as your eyes starred at the scars that littered his chest. They looked like whatever wound created them was deep, possibly life threatening. What could have happened to him?

“HEY!”, he barked making you jump. “He said he’s not as nice as me but that doesn’t mean I’m easy going! Now, answer the fucking question, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. N-No, I don’t mind being hit or p-punished. Mr. Munson, what happened?”

As you started to step forward, both sets of brown eyes glared your way freezing you in place.

“Do you know the stop light system?”, Steve growled in a much rougher tone than you were prepared for. Nodding curtly after reciting it to them, he got up and grabbed your arm, sitting you between them. “Now, we do have some rules, Y/N. The first rule is the most important. DON’T ask about our scars.”

“Our?”

Steve slowly lifted off his own shirt and tossed it to the side. He didn’t have as many scars as Eddie but they were just as deep and looked similar. Whatever happened must have happened to both of them.

“I’m so sorry you both went through…whatever hurt you.”, you coo as you reach out to graze your fingers down Eddie’s chest.

The darkness in their eyes faltered slightly at your sincerity and the metalhead took your hand in his, tenderly kissing the back of it.

“Second rule. You have to be vocal, Y/N. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we need you to say red ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson. “

“Good. Good girl.”

His praise made you giddy as you blush making him smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I have one more question, princess. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yeah, we’re going to need you to clarify that.”, Steve laughs.

“I’ve done rough stuff with dominate partners before. I’ve never been with two men before.”

The way you said the word men had Eddie’s eyebrow quirking upward.

“Are you trying to tell us you’ve only been with boys your age?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you feel the need to tell us that?”

“Do we make you nervous?”, Steve asks as his fingers dance up your arm.

“Yes b-but not because of you two, Mr. Harrington. I just wanted you to know j-just in case I’m not as ‘experienced’ as you both.”

Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks as he brought your lips to his. You weren’t surprised by the nicotine that lingered there but you were by the tingle that ran through your body as his tongue caressed your own. When he pulled away you tried to lean forward for more but his grip held firm.

“We weren’t expecting you to be, pretty girl. You’ve only ever been with these little boys but you’re about to be fucked by real men, sweetheart. Trust us, we know how to take care of you.”

You moaned at his promise, turning towards Steve to crash your lips with his. He was a much more determined kisser, his mouth and tongue sending that same shock wave through to your core.

“Have you ever sucked a cock as big as mine?”, he panted against your lips.

As you shake your head, his fingers grab your throat just below your jaw as if purposely avoiding where Martin had hurt you.

“What did I say? How do you answer us?”

“I’m sorry. No, sir, I’ve never sucked a dick as big as either of you.”

Sitting back, his palm moved to the back of your neck, guiding you down over his leaking tip as Eddie adjusted your body till you were on all fours for them.

“Fuck me, Steve. She is so fucking wet. Her pussy is just tripping down her thighs.”

“Aw, you like being a bad girl, don’t you, honey?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Harrington. I like being a bad girl.”

“Open your mouth.” Doing as he directed, you quickly kissed his slit making him mewl before fully taking him between your awaiting lips. “Yes, oh my god. T-That’s a good girl.”

Eddie’s fingers glided through your folds causing your eyes to roll as you bobbed your head.

“Steve, baby, Jesus, she’s so fucking tight.”, the metalhead groaned as his palm came down hard on your ass.

“Yeah, Y/N? Did that feel good? You like when your professor spanks you?”

Yanking your hair roughly he tugs you off of him as you continue to stroke him with your hand.

“I didn’t hear that, little girl. What did you say?”

“Y-Yes, sir, I like when Mr. Munson spanks me.”

At your response he spanks you again right as he guides two of his digits into your core. Gripping you tighter, Steve forces your mouth on him again and holds you still as he thrusts his hips allowing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

“Good girl. That’s it, Y/N. Keep your throat open for me.”

Abruptly, Eddie swats his boyfriend’s hand and tugs on your shoulder, guiding you down the hallway to their bedroom and tossing you onto their bed. After completely removing the rest of his clothes, he climbs between your legs and runs his wide, flat tongue through your pussy up to your clit.

“Oh shit.”, you moan as your back arches into the feeling before yelping when his palm smacks your cunt.

“Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside you both placing his knees by your head as his fingers grip your hair again.

“Can’t really blame her. I know how amazing your tongue feels. Then again, you may have some competition, babe, because her fucking mouth feels so good.”

Pride washes over you at his praise as you grip his cock and take him as far back as you can trying to continue to please him.

“I-It’s ok, honey. We can train this little throat. As—fuck—as you know, Eddie’s a wonderful teacher.” His boyfriend tosses him a smirk as his tongue flicks faster against your bud. “Are you going to cum? Cum, Y/N. Cum all over his face.”

Your hips grinded against him as the man’s mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves and he pushed two of his fingers rapidly inside of you as the sound of your arousal to fill the room.

Steve backed away from you, allowing you to focus and breathe as your orgasm washed over you. As you came down from your high, Eddie lightly slapped between your legs making you jump and groan.

“Sensitive. I like that.”

Tilting towards their bedside table, he paused as their eyes met.

“Shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

“What?”, Steve almost wined as you tried to contain your smile at their desperate need for you.

“Steve, we’ve been together for almost 10 years. When was the last time we used a fucking condom?”, Eddie growled.

“We’ve been talking about adding someone to our dynamic for a while now.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t prepared for it to be tonight with a fucking student!”

“Excuse me.”, you finally pipe up. “I’m on the pill. I can understand if you still don’t want to but…I’m safe. And like I said, I trust you.”

Both men exchange a glance and you can’t help but giggle up at them.

“So how long were you going to wait before you said anything, huh?”

“Mr. Munson, you didn’t ask. I wanted to be a good girl and only speak when spoken to.”

They narrow their eyes playfully at you for a moment before Eddie grabs your jaw and tilts you till your face is level with his.

“You’re not cute, little girl. That little snarky attitude may have worked on those pathetic boys you were with but you’re in the bed of real men now. Don’t hide things from us you think we should know. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m—”

Steve’s hand cuts you off as he pushes you back against the mattress.

“We know. You’re sorry.”

Taking hold of his shaft, Eddie taps himself against your pussy making you squirm as you open your legs wider for him. Grabbing your hips, he slides you closer and gradually guides himself into your dripping entrance.

“Fuuuuuck.”, he moaned as he slowly pumped his hips. “We are going to fucking ruin you for anyone else, little girl. Goddamn.”

“How does she feel, baby?”, Steve asks as he leaned towards him to lightly kiss his neck.

“S-So fucking tight, sweetheart, you have no idea. I want…”

“What do you want, Ed?”

“I wanna…fuck her into the fucking mattress.”

Your pussy fluttered around him at his words and his eyes that been closed shot open as he placed his palms on either side of you and started thrusting into you aggressively.

“You want that, you little whore. I can give that to you.”

Much softer than his partner, Steve turned your head and slide his cock back into your mouth that you eagerly sucked on relishing the taste of him. As he pounded into you, Eddie’s lips kissed along his boyfriend’s chest making the man groan louder as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Bringing his lips to his own they passionately exchanged a kiss that had you mewling as the long-haired man rolled his hips hard hitting that soft spot inside you repeatedly.

Eddie’s head tilted back as his jaw went slack and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to run your nails down your chest.

“I’m…I’m…please…”

Steve moved back as the metalhead grabbed your wrists and held them against the bed as his face fell beside your own.

“You fucking ask me, Y/N. You beg us to let you cum. Shit. We have control in here.”, he whispers in your ear making your shudder underneath him.

“P-Please, Mr. Munson. Can I cum? I want to cum on your cock, please.”

His hair tickles your face as he nods and the action of him tenderly kissing your cheek pushes you over the edge as the coil snaps.

“Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl. Came so fucking hard on my dick. I’m going to fill you up, princess, ok?”

“Please…”, you whimper as he slams into you, chasing his high.

Your professor’s grunts filled your ear and you turned your head into the sound as he warmed your insides. As soon as he rolled off you, a hand took hold of your ankle and yanked you to the edge the bed.

“Hey, hey, honey. No, no.”, Steve cooed with a hint of sarcasm as he lightly slapped your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Green.”

His massive palm slapped you a bit harder causing your eyes to fully open as you leaned up on your elbows.

“Green, what?”

“Green, SIR!”

You’re suddenly turned on to your stomach as rough hands lift your ass in the air while another set takes hold of your wrists and pulls your top half down and forward.

“Get rid of the attitude, Y/N. You think just because you came you’re allowed to be disrespectful?”, Eddie growls as Steve spanks your behind. “Now, answer him clearly without the tone.”

“Green, Mr. Harrington.”

As he ran his tip through your folds, you knew even after taking his partner, he was going to split you in half.

“Fuck me.”, Steve moaned as he began pushing himself into you.

Eddie’s head tilted to the side as he watched your face scrunch together.

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Trust me, I know how hard he can be to take at first but it will feel good soon. I promise, baby.”, he soothed and kissed your lips.

“F-Feels…feels good…now. Fuck.”

The man behind you smacks your ass at the curse, pressing further into your cunt till his hips finally connected with yours.

“Still green, babe?”

“Yeeeees, sir.”

“Good.” Clinging to your waist, Steve pulled back till he was almost all the way out of pussy before roughly slamming back into you practically punching the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god!”

With a slanted smile, he pounded into you as Eddie watched from the side, sitting up on his knees to occasionally run his fingers down the man’s chest.

“She feels really fucking good, right? Our young, new little toy.”

“Goddamn, I’m gonna fucking bust like a teenager.”

“Wait, pretty boy. You need to feel her cum. Her pussy fucking chokes your dick, I swear.”

“Fuck, Y/N, are you close, little girl?” When you didn’t answer, his hand reached around to grab you throat and lift your back to his chest. “Still coherent, you little slut? I asked you a question.”

“H-Harder, Mr. Harrington, please.”

As his forehead landed on your shoulder, he did what you asked till the bed began to jostle underneath you. A jolt of electricity shot through your body and you mewled as Eddie rubbed circles into your clit.

You took their conversation as approval and your arm circle around Steve’s neck as you came.

“Jesus fucking Christ!”, he grunted as he took hold of your chin and turned you so his lips could mingle with yours as he pumped into you a few more times before releasing his seed inside you.

You were completely drained and slightly sore as he tried to delicately pullout of you while you waited for what to do next. Usually, the boys you were with did the minimal amount of aftercare, choosing to just cuddle with you which was fine. You were surprised, however, when Eddie informed you the bath was ready when you were.

“For me?”

“Yeah, princess, come on. It will soothe your muscles.”, he murmured softly as he took your forearm and slowly walked you to the bathtub and guided you in. Your head remained lowered as you listened to him maneuver around the bathroom, sliding on some boxers before lighting a cigarette and placing himself on his knees beside you.

Utilizing the washcloth, he cleaned you pausing when your hand suddenly grabbed his wrist as he attempted to clean between your legs.

“I’m sorry. Just sore.”, you whispered as you let him go.

Eddie’s eyes scanned you over and you heard him blow out some smoke from his lips as he put the cigarette down in a nearby ashtray. His fingers moved some of your hair back and he pressed his nose into your cheek while he continued to clean you.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re still doing really good for me. I know your little pussy hurts from how we stretched her open but we got you, pretty girl. You took us both so well.”

As his deep, comforting tone continued to whisper praises, you keened into the sound as you winced, trying not to grab him again.

“I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

Tilting your head, your lips found his, both of you getting lost in the feeling as he dropped the rag from his hand so he could cup your face and hold you closer. A throat clearing distracted you two as Steve entered the bathroom.

“I, uh, I have some clothes for you here, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Nodding, you allow Eddie to help you out and lead you in front of his partner who took a seat on the edge of the bed. His honey irises ran along your body, checking for extra care you may need that they inflicted but unlike your assault earlier the only mark they left was the slight reddening of their handprints on your behind.

“How’s your throat? I tried not to grab you where—”

Your kisses startled him at first but after a few seconds his hand slithered tenderly behind your neck as he kissed you back.

“I’m ok. Just sore…and tired.”, you reiterate as your heavy eye lids dropped.

“Ok, honey.” Steve’s hands held you steady while Eddie dressed you in what smelled like their clothes as you swayed in his grasp. “You did so good for us. You deserve some sleep. Would you like me to carry you to the guest bedro—”

Both men watched with amusement as your shook your head before climbing over him and crawling under their covers.

“I guess we can sleep in the—”

“Please don’t leave.”, you begged in a little girl voice that pierced their hearts.

“Why does she keep interrupting me?”, Steve chuckles as he gets to his feet and yanks Eddie into his arms to kiss his lips. “She doesn’t do that with you. Or does she in class?”

At the word the metalhead became silent as he kissed his partner’s shoulder and crawled into the bed in front of you. His palm softly caressed your face and through your hair as Steve got in bed behind you.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am and not just because she’s a student. That’s just the frosting on top of the cake that is our problem.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“Steven.”, Eddie scolds as they both smile. “She’s so much younger than we are.”

“10 years. Not much.”

“Not to mention the fact, that we are already hiding OUR relationship let alone another with a young, student. She deserves to be taken on dates and to live her life. She deserves to be seen not hidden.”

“So do you, honey.”

“Steve… we decided a long time ago to stay in Hawkins for a reason. We can’t be run out of town by these homophobic small, minded idiots. They’ve just barely started calming down when it comes to me and what happened in 86. And that’s another thing. What if…what if something happens? What if Vecna comes back or any other fucking monster? We can’t drag her into that.”

“Eddie, you’re over thinking again, but I see where you are coming from. Let’s…let’s take it one day at a time, ok? Who knows. She may wake up and decide this is all too much herself. She may not want to be with some…old, broken-down college professors slash coach.”

“Oh my god, baby.”, the long-haired boy chuckles as he throws his arm over his eyes. “You’re not broke down. We just have some wear and tear.”

Your palm reaching out and pulling Eddie closer as you fully folded into Steve silenced them. They relaxed into you as your professor kissed your forehead and your school’s coached nuzzled into your shoulder as they drifted off to sleep with you.

##############

@corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon

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ultravioletrayz · 2 months

Text

soccer dad!miguel who groans at the compromise he's been offered by the club manager. There's no way this was happening.

"I'm sorry, Mr O'Hara, but it's either the two of you organise a reconciliation meeting and remedy your behaviour towards one another, or you're both banned from attending the under 9's Division A league for the remainder of the season." The manager sighs, looking over at your scowling face, before looking back up at Miguel.

By 'reconciliation meeting', the bastard meant a playdate between Gabriela and Tony. And after the dig you took at his failed marriage, and the mistake he made of calling you a slut, Miguel was not fond of forgiving and forgetting just yet. Sure, the idea of having you in his apartment made his dick swell, but it also made his heart pound with dread.

soccer dad!miguel who glances down at Gabriela and frowns. The little girl clings to his leg and sniffles at the idea of her dad, her hero, not coming to her games anymore. Seeing Gabi, who's usually so fierce and self-assured, on the verge of tears over childish bickering with the opposition puts the situation into perspective. The whole reason he got into an argument with you in the first place was for Gabriela's sake. Being there to support his daughter means more than his ego.

In the end, you and Miguel both agree to the prospect of a playdate, although all four of you are wary of what's to come.

soccer dad!miguel who curses under his breath as he holds Gabi's hand and they walk back to the car, his heavy stomps amusing Gabriela to an extent as she giggles at the squelching sound of the muddy grass beneath her dad's clunky shoes. She's nervous about having her nemesis on the pitch at her home tomorrow, so she distracts herself in the familiarity of her dad's petty pout and grouchy, slumped shoulders.

"Aren't you excited to have a new friend, Papa?" Gabriela asks softly, her hand wrapped around Miguel's thick pinky as she tries to keep up with her dad's long strides towards the carpark. "You've been kind of... lonely... since mama left. Maybe this'll be fun for you."

Gabriela is so intelligent for her age, sometimes it scares Miguel with how much of the situation with her mom she could actually comprehend. He doesn't know whether to be proud of his insightful little girl, or ashamed that she's had to learn about such grown-up things so early in life. Perhaps this playdate has come at just the right time. Miguel and Gabriela both need some friends other than each other in this awkward time.

soccer dad!miguel who tries to keep Gabi entertained for the rest of the day so that neither of them dwell on what's to come tomorrow.

Once she's showered and comfortable after her game and the hectic events following it, she and Miguel lounge around on the couch, watching their favourite telenovela together and yelling at the TV screen in unison, giggling and gasping as they eat whatever fruit is left over from Gabi's halftime snack.

soccer dad!miguel who eventually puts Gabreila to bed after their chaotic day. He crouches next to Gabriela's bed, his tall, tan, muscular frame comically towering over the princess-themed bedspread Gabi's smiling face is peeking out of.

He sings to his daughter, his voice low and soothing as he casually straightens a few of the posters of Gabi's favourite footballers hanging up on her wall. Gabriela's eyes begin to flutter, the comforting presence of her dad easing her into a state of relaxation as she whispers to him, cutting off Miguel's lullaby.

"Papa, what if the boy is mean to me tomorrow? I don't wanna mess things up for you." Gabi says worriedly, not wanting to burden Miguel just in case tomorrow's playdate isn't successful and she and Tony remain rough and mean towards one another, like they are on the field.

The thought of that idiot kid being cruel to Gabriela in his own home makes Miguel suck in a sharp breath, but he remains composed and calm as he speaks quietly, a slight smile on his face. "No te preocupes por eso, mija. You matter more to me than anything else. If the kid even tries to bully you, I'll kick his ass."

Gabriela giggles, and Miguel kisses her cheek and watches over his precious angel until she falls into a deep sleep.

soccer dad!miguel who tosses and turns all night, unable to fall asleep. The images in his mind stem from a place of abandonment and loneliness. He shouldn't be this desperate for a big, happy family, but the thought of him, Gabriela, and you together makes his brain fuzzy. He yearns for that emotional connection between him and a motherly figure towards Gabi, his ex leaving him needy for a truly happy family, one without lying and selfishness, The way you care for Tony... he knows you'd treat Gabriela so well.

And he knows you'd treat him so well, too. Miguel's thoughts drift away from what a good mom and life partner you would be as he drifts off into a hazy state of unconscious lust as he dreams of you.

In the morning, Miguel wakes up in a cold sweat, large tears in his pillowcase and a sticky wetness coating his toned thighs. On top of that, there's a relentless ache in his heart. Today needs to be perfect.

soccer dad!miguel who sorts himself out and wakes Gabi up early to tidy the apartment and prepare it for your arrival. Gabriela tidies some of the clutter in her room, while Miguel focuses on cleaning the living room and the kitchen.

As he's putting away some of the clean dishes, Miguel's sharp, red eyes glance down towards the wedding band faintly shimmering on his finger. With how quickly the divorce happened, and how busy he's been taking care of Gabriela all on his own, it had totally slipped his mind to take off the ring.

With a heavy sigh, Miguel takes off the ring that's caused him so much regret, and slips it into his pocket. Gabriela is right, he could use a new "friend".

soccer dad!miguel who straightens out his simple black t-shirt, awkwardly squirming against the weight of the fabric. He feels hot, he feels nervous. It's as if he's a teenager again, his stomach is doing backflips at the thought of having a pretty girl over. But he tries to push those desires of romance and a different kind of "reconciliation" away as he hears the doorbell ring and walks to the door.

Miguel needs to focus on making up for the mean shit he said to a beautiful young lady, and allow Gabriela to make a new friend. This was about Gabi, Tony, and Miguel's need to keep watching his daughter play the game she loves. You're just an obstacle he has to overcome to do so.

Hesitantly, Miguel opens the door with a cautious Gabriela by his side, looking down to see an uneasy smile on your stunning face, and your nephew tugging on your jacket as if he's trying to pull you away so that you can escape before it's too late. Miguel can't help but chuckle at the sight.

"Come in."

PREV. PART, NEXT PART

tagging people in part 3:

@lauraolar14 @mcmiracles @mimiemie @szal0v3r @jadeloverxd @raginghomo62 @faimmm @princesatracionera @keepitreal001 @rxckstarss @ghost-lantern @rhythmloid @lazyjellyfish300 @shadofireshinobi @t4naiis @laufftuhh @grapejuicenads @xxsugarbonesxx @lounilu @kerwin290710 @straw-berry-ghoul @lizaistewdelulu @questionable-behaviour @daddysfavoritesexkitten @kocho-catt @envyjmoney @6thhokageswife @vivianite-is-dead

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wildernessuntothemselves · 6 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 6

A/N: don't even have a summary for this. oc is in love with gyu and gyu is in love with another girl but both are virgin losers and gyu is a horndog who would let oc do what she wants to him just as long as he gets to cum.

Word count: 6.2k

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff

Warnings: fem!reader, loss of virginity, PIV sex, fingering, brief pussy licking, sub!reader, dom!yeonjun.

Despite what Beomgyu said, he and Haeun seem to have become an item, just as you and Yeonjun are now. They’re always together, as you are with Yeonjun, and it’s like you and Beomgyu don’t even know each other anymore. He’s always hanging out with her and you’re always hanging out with Yeonjun. You hardly see Beomgyu anymore, which makes it weird the way he’s sitting on your bed, watching you get ready just like old times.

You remember how you and he used to play a game sometimes as you got ready where you’d pick out various outfits and try them out for Beomgyu, giving him a mini-fashion show that he would narrate as if it was a football game, going on about how groundbreaking the designs are and how pretty the model (you) looks.

He was your main supporter in going into fashion as a major. You don’t think you would’ve had the courage to do it without him. He always believed in you and stood by you even when your parents were upset at you for choosing a career with such an uncertain future. He told you that if one of you succeeds, you’ll just pull the other up too. If his music career takes off, he’ll contract you to be the creative director for the band and if your fashion career takes off, you’ll have to hire him as your model. And if you both fail…well you’ll be strippers together.

You laugh as you remember your promise and turn back towards Beomgyu, who was sitting on your bed watching you. “Hey, remember our backup plan? That we’ll make a two-man stripper show to repay our student debt?”

But Beomgyu doesn’t share your laughter. Instead he just hums, focusing on your dress.

“What? You don’t like it?” You ask, insecure. You’re not used to wearing something this extravagant but Yeonjun is taking you to a photography exhibition tonight and he told you it’s gonna be really fancy.

You’re not sure if being stressed out and sweating as you try not to get judged by all those more talented and influential people is the best idea for a date but Yeonjun insisted that if you wanted to get into fashion, you have to start mingling.

You didn’t even have a proper dress. You had to wear something you made for a fallen goddess shoot you had in mind, but by the look Beomgyu is giving you, it’s probably trash.

"Does it matter?" He asks and you frown. "What do you mean?"

"It means that with what you're wearing, I don't even know why you’re bothering going on a date when you can just invite him over and let him fuck you now, skip the formalities."

"You're unbelievable." You spit out, trying to hide the dread filling your chest and making you struggle to breathe. Yes, the dress was a bit more revealing than you’re used to, but it’s an art event, people wear this stuff there all the time.

“Where did you even get this dress?” He asks in distaste and you hold your head up high. “I made it.”

That makes him back down, his eyes visibly softening as regret shows on his face. “Oh… It’s pretty.”

You snort in disbelief. "Why are you even here, Beomgyu?"

He shrugs. "Just watching this shitshow go down."

“Right.” You mutter bitterly, "I guess it was too much to expect you to act like a friend."

"I am your friend.” He says as if declaring it is enough to make it true. “I'm your best friend."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

He jumps off the bed when he hears that, quickly getting in front of you. "What does that mean?”

"Nothing. I'm going to be late." You try to get past him but he won’t let you. "No. What do you mean by that? You said I'd never lose you."

"Yeah, that was before you transformed into this asshole who accuses me of trying to sabotage his career and calling me a slut for daring to date."

He moves back, stunned at your words, and you almost laugh. Is he really surprised? "I'm just… working through some stuff."

"Stuff? That's your excuse?" You ask incredulously and he looks away. Is “stuff” worth what he’s done to your friendship?

"It's just hard for me to see you with him." He finally admits and you sigh. Not this again. "Beomgyu, I know you’re worried about your band, but Yeonjun and I are adults, even if we break up, that doesn't mean–"

"It's not about that." He shakes his head, cutting you off.

"Then what is it?" You ask, frustrated. Frankly, you’re at your rope’s end with his weird behavior.

"You're too good for him."

"What?” You reel back. Now, this is new. “Is it because he sleeps around? Because we’ve talked about it and he insisted that just because he's had many casual relationships before doesn't mean he's gonna cheat on me. We've been together for a while now and he has been nothing but wonderful to me."

He really has. You don't know what's wrong with you. Why can't you love him the way you love your asshole best friend? Maybe it will come with time? You've known Beomgyu for years and your love for him didn't develop overnight. Maybe you just need to give your relationship with Yeonjun more time.

You hope it doesn't take years to get over Beomgyu and fall in love with Yeonjun though.

"It's not that. It's not him. You're too good for everyone."

"Beomgyu…" You walk towards him and hold his hands. "I know you're not used to me going out with guys because, well, I've kind of lead a fairly loser-ish life--you know, you've been there– and maybe me and Yeonjun won't end up working out and maybe I'll end up hurt but I can't just be virginal forever. I have to try to find someone for me."

"But you have someone." He pulls you towards him, resting his forehead against yours as he plays with your hands. "Me."

That hurt more than any mean thing he has ever said to you and he doesn't even mean to hurt you. He has been terrible to you all this time because he thinks you deserve more? Because he wants things to stay the way they are? That is fucking absurd and so infuriating. Why couldn't he have just told you that instead of acting like an ass? Not wanting to lose you doesn’t mean he gets to order you around. Being worried about you doesn't give him the right to treat you like a stupid slut.

"Don't be stupid." You say harshly, making him flinch. You try again, softer this time, not letting the anger and pain through as much. "I know I have you but I need more."

"More what? Why can't things just stay the way they are? We have fun together, right? I make you laugh. I'm there for you when you're down. We've even messed around. What can he give you that I can't?"

Love. You need love and even though Beomgyu loves you very much, it's not in the way you need.

"Beomgyu, you’re being very childish about this. We're not twelve anymore. I know you’re scared that we'll drift apart if I find someone but the only reason we’ve been drifting apart is because of your behavior. I can't keep coddling you. You may not like it because it’s only been you and I until now, but it's time for me to find an actual boyfriend instead of this–this joke I have with you."

Maybe you’re being too harsh on him but you’re honestly too hurt to sugarcoat it anymore. And you also need to hear it yourself. What you have with Beomgyu isn't real and you need to face the fact that it will never be. "I need someone to actually love and to hold and to be my other half. Us messing around together is just that, messing around, nothing more. I need something real. You do too. I mean you're finally with the woman you've been chasing after for years. Do you really wanna throw that away just because you're scared?"

Still, seeing the way he becomes quiet after your outburst, looking away from you and not responding… maybe you could’ve been nicer about it.

“Beomgyu…” You sigh, reaching out to turn his face towards you but he pushes your hand away, refusing to meet your gaze.

"Go. You’re late for your date." He grits out and you look at the time. Crap. You are!

You look at him again, seeing the tension in his jaw and shoulders, something that resembles pain etched on his features. Should you stay and work this out for him or go on your date? If you stay, you’d be choosing him yet again. If you stay then you’ll just teach him that all he needs to do is act out and you’ll cave and do what he wants. No, you need to make some changes. That’s what you promised Yeonjun when you and him decided to become exclusive. Beomgyu can’t come first anymore.

"I have to go. Let’s talk about this later." You step back, ignoring the hurt in his eyes as you grab your bag and head for the door.

____________________

When Yeonjun said the place was fancy, he wasn’t kidding. You’re blown away right now, surrounded by people you’ve only known about through magazine spreads and hours of admiration through the internet. You can’t believe you’re here in the same room with such talented artists and creators.

You feast your eyes on the multiple displays from different photographers and artists, analyzing their technique, their vision, and their subject, and you’re just in awe. This is exactly where you should be, mingling with the others in your field, making connections, building a network… except you haven’t really gotten the hang of socializing yet. You’re too nervous to talk to anyone. You just stand silently next to Yeonjun as he charms his way through the crowd, joking there, throwing a compliment here or purring a small flirty line that has the other party blushing.

He can turn it on for anyone. He’s so good you can’t help wondering where his charming nature ends and his actual affection for you begins. How do you know he’s not just charming you the same way he charms everyone else?

“Do you like it?” Yeonjun asks, and you snap out of your thoughts. You look around to see that everyone around you has left and you’re standing alone with him. “Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at this particular shot for a long time. Do you like it?” He laughs and you shake your head. “Not really.”

“Really? Why not? It’s well shot, the composition is good, the set design is top-notch and the clothes really complement the atmosphere.”

“That’s all true.” You agree, and he laughs–his sweet tinkering laugh that makes you smile. “Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t like the model. It’s obvious the photographer was going for a femme fatale look but she doesn’t deliver. She’s supposed to have the face of an angel but the aura of the devil. She has to convey the monster within but she’s so afraid of not looking pretty, it just comes across as if she’s putting on an act rather than losing herself in the madness of it.”

“You really don’t like her, huh?” He laughs, and you furrow your eyebrows. “Well, it’s not really her fault so much as it’s the fault of the photographer. They should be directing the model on how to act and correcting them when they’re doing something wrong. This model is obviously gorgeous and she has the potential in her to look fierce, but with a weak direction like this, all you get is what basically amounts to a child dressing in her mother’s clothes.”

You hear someone huff behind you and turn around to see a very disgruntled man. “And to whom do I owe this very shrewd commentary on my work?”

Oh, shit. Oh, fuck.

“I–I am… I’m nobody.” You squeak, wishing the monster from the next picture over would jump out of the frame and swallow you whole right now.

“That’s right, you are nobody.” The man haughtily agrees.

“Hey, man, she’s just giving her opinion.” Yeonjun attempts to interject but the man pays him no mind. “I am an award winning photographer. I don’t take the juvenile half-baked opinions of nobodies. Come back when you’ve actually achieved something that could hold a candle to what I’ve done over my career. Oh no wait, you’ll never amount to anything if these are the opinions your artistically challenged brain comes up with.”

“Hey–Yeonjun protests, a scene starting to form around you, but you quickly cut it short–the humiliation already too much for you to handle.

“I’m sorry.” You tear up, quickly turning and running away.

Through your tears, you can see the shocked and confused looks of the other patrons so you quickly keep your gaze to the ground until you’re out of the gallery and near Yeonjun’s car in the quiet parking lot where no one can see you cry.

No one except Yeonjun who followed closely after you. “Wait up! Baby–Are you okay?”

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of everyone. I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You babble, tears streaming down your face. “You shouldn’t have taken me to such a nice place. I didn’t deserve it.”

Why the hell did you even think you would ever make it in such a business. The best you’d be able to achieve is etsy store designs and wedding photographs. You’ve just messed up your first chance at making connections AND you fucked up your date with Yeonjun. You’re such a screw up.

“Woah, calm down. You didn’t do any of those things.” He holds you in his arms and you bury your face in his shirt, seeking comfort and a place to hide from him. “Don’t lie. I ruined everything.”

Maybe now he’ll even realize that you’re not as cool as he thought you were. That you’re not actually this artistic person he probably imagined you as and lose interest. He’d know you’re a fraud and dump you. Then you’d be left with no Beomgyu and no boyfriend. Just your loser self.

“You didn’t. But you crying might ruin my shirt.”

You gasp, pulling away and trying to step back but he holds you by the arms, giving you a mischievous grin. “I’m kidding. You can soak me through with tears and snot all you want.”

“You’re an asshole.” You smack his chest, pouting.

“Maybe. But I got you to stop crying.” He says and you frown. He actually did. While you might’ve preferred a more sweet approach to getting you to stop crying, this still worked.

You sigh, little cries bubbling up in your chest still. “I still am sorry. You wanted to do something nice for me and I ruined it with my big mouth.”

“No, you didn’t.” He retorts, wiping away the few stray tears still falling. “I loved hearing everything you had to say. I thought you made some really good points. He was just threatened that you could've done a way better job than he did.”

“You really think so?” You peer up at him, hopeful that he’s not just saying that to make you feel better.

“Yes, but don’t start crying again.” He laughs, kissing the pout you answer him with. “In fact, I’m free if you ever want to try it out. And I want you to know that I take very good direction.”

There goes the flirting again. The one that makes you wonder if he’s sincere or it’s just part of his charm.

"Yeah, we could do that." You say nervously, letting him prop your chin up to press a proper kiss onto your lips.

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” He asks but you shake your head. “Not hungry. Too depressed.”

“Aw, baby, do you wanna head back home with me? I can make you forget all about that asshole.” He brushes your hair out of your face, kissing you again, and you know what he’s really asking.

You’ve already gone on a few dates with him. It’s not too soon for this. This is what people who like each other do after going on multiple dates. And if you want to get over Beomgyu, you’re going to have to completely give yourself to Yeonjun. You can’t be holding anything back in the hopes that Beomyu might want it someday.

You put on a brave smile for Yeonjun. “Yes. Let’s head home.”

____________________________

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous.” Yeonjun whispers to you, feeling you tense up as he tries to push the straps of your dress down your shoulders. “You’re beautiful."

Does he really think that? You can’t be that beautiful compared to the women he’s been with.

"Did I tell you how much I love this dress?" He asks, toying with the neckline, and you shake your head. "I love it. Makes you look like a movie star. So beautiful and sexy. Almost makes me not want to take it off."

His lips brush softly over your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake before he pulls back to look you in the eye. "But I wanna see all of you. Will you let me see you, doll?"

You nod, holding your breath as he pulls the dress down your chest, kissing every inch of skin on the way until your breasts are bare and his plush lips are wrapped around your nipple.

“Yeonjun…” You whine, grabbing onto his hair as he kisses and kneads your breasts, slowly but surely turning you on.

“Does it feel good, doll?” Yeonjun smirks, one of his hands going between your legs to rub your pussy.

“Yes. Please.”

“I got you, baby.” His mouth moves down your body as he pulls your leg apart.

“Missed this.” He murmurs, reaching your pussy and giving it a wide lick as his finger prods at your opening and pushes through. “Oh, that went in easy.”

“I… I finger myself.” You admit bashfully, covering your face with your hands, feeling embarrassed for some reason but Yeonjun just laughs and leans up to remove your hands and kiss you. “That’s okay, makes my job easier.”

You give him a confused look but quickly realize what he means when he presses another finger into you, moving both of them in and out to loosen your pussy.

“See? All good. I’ll have you fucked open for me in no time.” He drawls, staring you down confidently as he works another finger into you. You tense up on that last one so he uses his thumb to rub your clit to get you to relax a bit. “There you go. Open up for me, doll. Let yourself feel good.”

You’re trying to, you really are. You’re trying to focus on the moment, the burning feeling moving up your body from your pussy that just needs to be quenched.

He’s doing it so well, hitting all the right spots, completely confident and self-assured. He knows exactly what he’s doing. No clumsiness. No unchecked lust. No uncontainable eagerness. Just steady, purposeful movements that touch you places you didn’t even know you were sensitive.

“Feels good.” You slur, pressing your pussy further into his hand, grinding against his palm to seek more of that mind-numbing stimulation. “More.”

“I know, baby. But let me take it slow for you.”

You shake your head. You don’t want it slow. You want him to lose himself in you. “No. Want you now.”

“Doll–”

“Fuck me, Yeonjun. Make me yours.” Please. Please make me yours. Make me stop thinking about him.

Are you doing this for all the wrong reasons? Maybe, but how else are you supposed to get over Beomgyu? Don't they say the best way to get over a guy is to get under another one? Well, you'll just have to test that theory.

Yeonjun relents, shushing your needy mewls with kisses as he takes his hand away. “Hush, doll. I’ll fill you up again in a second.” He undoes his pants and pushes them off along with his underwear before grabbing you by the thighs and lining himself up with your pussy.

“You ready, baby?” He asks and you just stare at his cock.

Has Beomgyu already fucked her? He must have. He’s so needy to get his dick wet that he’d never miss up the chance.

You look up at Yeonjun. “Do it. Fuck me.”

Ok, so maybe you fingering yourself hadn’t fully prepared you for this. Maybe you should’ve taken a page out of Beomgyu’s book and gotten yourself a sex toy–a dildo to practice with before the real thing.

Thankfully, Yeonjun takes it slow despite your earlier demands, thrusting into you shallowly, letting you get used to his length bit by bit.

“Relax for me, doll.” He purrs gently, kissing all over your face as his hands massage your thighs, doing his best to get you to loosen up.

“Yes, Junnie.” You whimper, head falling back as you will your body to relax. You hear a soft chuckle coming from him. “Junnie? That’s cute.”

You blush as you realize what you’d said. You couldn’t help it. You love giving cute nicknames to your friends. And you guess your boyfriend too.

Yeah, because Yeonjun is your boyfriend now and boyfriends and girlfriends have sex. You know Yeonjun must have done it with all his previous girlfriends. It would’ve been weird if you didn’t.

Not that Yeonjun pressured you to do it or anything. But you know he wanted it. You wanted it too. You just couldn’t get Beomgyu out of your head. Which is why it’s good that you’re finally doing this–smothering that last candle you were holding out for him.

“You’re tensing again, doll.” Yeonjun tells you, kissing your neck. “Not that I don’t enjoy it. It feels like heaven when you squeeze down on my cock like that, but I want this to feel good for you too.”

Yes, it’s the right thing to do this… right?

“Okay…” You breathe, trying to relax and focus on the moment, letting your muscles unclench as Yeonjun presses his cock in and out of you.

Once you’re sufficiently relaxed, you start to actually feel good again, his cock feeling much better than your fingers ever did. It reaches places inside you that you never could by yourself. It’s so thick and long, dragging along your walls and stimulating those sensitive spots inside you that make your toes curl.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” He drawls, taking note of the moans you were now letting out but he still takes it slow.

You breath hitches, his words too closely resembling what Beomgyu had said to you before, and for a split second you see Beomgyu over you instead of Yeonjun, his long hair tickling your face and his intense gaze burning you up.

“Yeonjun–” You gasp, digging your fingers into his arms. “Harder, please.”

Maybe if he fucks you harder, it’ll push Beomgyu out of your brain. Maybe if he fucks you harder, you could mistake his casual affection for the raw passion you crave.

“Are you sure, doll?” He asks, concerned.

“Yes, please, Yeonjun. Fuck me hard.” You insist, hoping your eyes convey how much you need it.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” He grabs your thighs, pressing them against the sides of your body and getting on top of you, driving his dick so deep inside you it makes you throw your head back in a long, choked out moan.

But he doesn’t let up, fucking into you again and again, bullying his cock into your virgin pussy at a brutal pace until you have no more breath to scream, and then he fucks you more.

“Baby, you with me?” Yeonjun pants, not letting up.

“Isss good….” You mumble, brain short-circuiting, caught by the fire spreading from your pussy to set your body alight. “S-so good.”

You vaguely hear him laugh through his own grunts, “Good girl, just lay back and let me make you feel good.”

You nod, tears brimming at your eyelashes at the overwhelming feeling. But you love it, the burning pleasure making its way through your body and making you forget about anyone else but Yeonjun.

“Junnie… soooo good…. Too g-good...” You cry, your pussy fluttering around his cock as it hammers in and out of you, your legs trying to slam together to take a break from the excessive pleasure, but they can’t. Not when Yeonjun’s hold on you is so bruising, his hips keeping at that brutal pace that makes you unable to even string along a full sentence.

“You asked for it, doll. Now be good and take it.” He grunts, bending down to pluck one of your nipples into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive nub.

“No–no—Junnie!” You scream, unable to take it anymore, your pussy clamping down on his cock as your whole body shudders with a blinding orgasm.

“Oh, fuck–baby, baby, I’m cumming.” Yeonjun groans, quickly taking his cock out as he cums on your belly, and replacing it with his fingers when you start crying at the emptiness.

“I got you, doll. I got you.” He murmurs, pumping his fingers in and out of you as he milks his cock of the last drops of his orgasm–letting you both down gently.

When you start squirming at the overstimulation–the fires retreating from your brain–he pulls his fingers out and bends down to kiss you. “It’s okay, baby. You did really well.”

You look up at him, the insecurity creeping back in again now that the mind-numbing pleasure is gone. “Did you like it? Did you like m-me?”

Were you good? Did you live up to his past lovers? Were you supposed to do something more? Be more proactive? Did he enjoy his time?

He chuckles. “Yes. You were great, baby. You felt so good.” He reassures you simply, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Okay.” His answer doesn't really give you the reassurance you needed. You don’t even know what you need him to do or say, but you know he’s not giving it to you. And he notices.

“You okay, doll?” He asks, giving you a skeptical look and you nod. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t appear to be convinced by your answer. “Are you sure? Wanna take a shower?”

You shake your head, getting off the bed and beginning to dress yourself up again. “No, that’s okay. I can take a shower at home.”

“Home? You’re not staying over?” He gives you a look of confusion which you reciprocate. “Oh. I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

You blink at him, genuinely unsure. You didn’t want to presume anything. You don’t have experience doing this. You don't know if you’re supposed to stay or if it’s too soon.

“Of course. I’m not just gonna make you go home after we fucked.” He chuckles, pulling you back down to the bed. “You have to stay the night.”

“I don’t know…” You hesitate. If you stay, Beomgyu will probably know what you've done. He'll know that you and Yeonjun had sex. But if you leave you'd be choosing Beomgyu again. You need to let go of him.

“Okay.”

___________________

You end up having a nice time with Yeonjun once you get over your anxiety and trepidation of losing your virginity to someone other than Beomgyu. It's silly but you suppose on some level you thought you'd have your first time with him.

And it's not just that. For a second you let the insecurity get to you and you wondered if Yeonjun would act differently now that you had sex. That he'd show his true face and break your heart, but he doesn’t. He is as sweet as ever, giving you some of his clothes and staying up in bed with you, having those precious pillow talks that are so important early in a relationship.

He is easy to talk to, and when he does that cute thing where he scrunches his nose up and pokes his tongue out as he's teasing you, it makes your heart flutter.

You find out that singing isn’t his only passion--that dancing is his first love. He even gets up out of the cozy comfort of the bed to show you a few dance moves when you whine and insist he shows you. You watch him with a big smile on your face as he executes them so well even in his bedroom, his movements so fluid yet precise, it’s mesmerizing. And when he’s done he smiles that sweet smile of his and lunges back into bed with you and you take him into your arms as if he could actually belong there.

It was so unlike how he usually is on stage and in front of others that it tugs in your heartstrings a bit, making you feel special for being allowed to witness this.

You fall asleep in his arms and wake up in his arms, forgetting about that aching feeling of emptiness in the center of your chest for a few blissful hours.

And in the morning you even make breakfast together. Or more like he makes you breakfast while you make coffee.

“Oh, man. I haven’t had a proper breakfast in sooo long.” You moan, digging into the omelet and sausages he made you.

“You don’t cook?” He asks, smiling as he watches you eat.

“Nope. Me and Beomgyu are hopeless. We’ve almost burned the kitchen too many times that now we don’t even bother.”

“Then what do you guys eat?”

“Frozen goods and slimy take-out. We’re building a formidable gut microbiome. We’re actually part of the country’s biological weapons program.”

Yeonjun laughs. “Well, sorry for ruining your trajectory by feeding you actual food.”

“Ah, well, Beomgyu can carry the torch by himself.” You shrug, mouth full of food.

“You guys are really close, huh?” He asks, and the mood grows a bit gloomy. You chew slowly, thinking your words through before answering. “Yeah, he’s my best friend.”

“He’s more than that though, isn’t he?” He pushes and you hesitate.

Once again, you know exactly what he's asking, and you’re faced with a decision to make between an uncertain future with Yeonjun, nurturing a candlelight that is so shaky it might get snuffed out at any moment, or live on hopes and dreams with Beomgyu, praying for the sun to break out from behind the clouds after years of waiting for it to no avail.

“No.” You finally say, looking up at him, trying to be decisive, hoping it will come naturally with time. “No, he’s not. Not anymore. We’ve agreed to be exclusive, you and I, and I’m serious about it.”

Yeonjun's smile is slow, cautious. “Good to hear.”

Do either of you actually believe it? Do you really think you can move on from Beomgyu? You don’t know but you know that you have to try and you know that you'd like to try with Yeonjun.

________________________________

Still, heading home you feel uneasy. Like you'd done something wrong you’re going to get punished for, and so to ease the guilt and tension, you grab something on the way with you–just some donuts and coffee, a small token of peace, knowing Beomgyu would be hungry and that the best way to get into his good graces is to offer him junk food. It's not like he was going to make himself breakfast or anything anyway.

When you step into the apartment, you find him sitting on the couch just as you had expected.

“Wanna eat? I got you your favorite donuts.” You wave the food next to your head in lieu of a greeting.

He stares at you for a few seconds, not saying anything. Shit, does he know? Can he see it on you? Probably, since you’re still wearing Yeonjun’s clothes.

But he just says, “Sure.” and makes room for you on the couch.

You accept it gladly, watching as he takes the donuts out and offers you some. “No, thanks, I already ate.”

Once again, he pauses, studying you for a second before looking away and taking a bite of his donut.

“Ugh, I was starving. This is the real stuff.” He groans and you grin. "Yeah. This is food as God intended it, processed and fried until it barely resembles food." You hum in agreement, making him giggle.

For a second you think you're off the hook. For a second you think things can just be normal like he wanted. But then he asks you something that stops you cold.

"How was the date?"

You study his expression, trying to decipher a hidden agenda in the question. Is this a trick? Is he asking just so he can say something mean about it? Is he going to act vindictive once you tell him how it went?

But he looks genuinely curious to your scrutinizing eyes, and so you decide to just tell him the truth. "Ugh, awful. You know how completely unaware I am of my surroundings? Well, I started criticizing this one photo and the photographer was standing right behind me."

Beomgyu gasps, a piece of food flying out of his mouth at you. "No! What did he say?"

You brush it off in disgust. "He said I was a nobody."

Beomgyu's face twists up in anger as he puts the food down. "What the fuck? He said that?"

"Well, I said it and he just confirmed it." You explain sheepishly, still feeling the sting of the humiliation even now. "He said he has all these awards and I have nothing and never will and he won't listen to someone like me."

"He's a fucking idiot.” Beomgyu rages, immediately jumps to your defense, “What, he thinks just because he has awards that he's the only one who can have an opinion? You know most of these awards are just rich people smelling their own farts, right? Real talent like yours cannot be measured."

Beomgyu is as fiercely defensive of you as he has always been and it brings a small smile to your face. However, the wound that the encounter opened up is still raw and just that isn’t enough to make you feel better.

"Well, I wish it would be measured a little bit. You know we've both been doing this for years but while your band is getting bigger and bigger–and I'm so happy for you–I seem to be getting nowhere." You tell him glumly. You haven’t gotten any recognition for your work even though you work your ass off, dreaming up concepts, executing them to the best of your ability, and trying to get someone to notice.

"Hey, hey, you will. I am certain of it. No one this talented can go unseen for long. They will notice you one day and they will be blown away." He scoots closer to you, holding your face in his warm hands and caressing your cheeks lovingly. "And hey, if all else fails, you always have that backup plan of being our main stylist and photographer. Me and Yeonjun will make sure of it. And not as a sympathy job either but because we truly believe in you."

"You would work with Yeonjun again for me?" You ask, touched. Beomgyu has been very stand-offish with Yeonjun ever since you started dating him. He only interacts with him the bare minimum to still allow the band to function. It’s not ideal but at least they’re not fighting anymore.

"I would do anything for you." He smiles at you, the smile not quite reaching his sad eyes.

Has his eyes always looked like this? So melancholic? Still, you feel comfort looking into them. You feel love and familiarity. You feel home.

You do your best not to tear up, knowing if you let that dam crumble you'll end up saying things you'll regret. So you hold it together, despite how much you ache to throw yourself in his arms. You missed this. You missed him. You miss what you wish you could be.

But then he takes his hand away and asks quietly, “Did you spend the night with him?”

“Yes.” You admit in a small voice, heart hammering against your chest.

“Got it.” He says simply, and it’s somehow worse than him getting angry. There is a sense of loss there that you can’t explain but it aches, deep and inaccessible.

“Thanks for the food.” He says, getting up and throwing the rest of it in the trash.

"Wait. Where are you going?” You ask when you see him heading for the door.

“Out.” He says simply, seeming to be in a hurry to leave but you’re not ready to let him go yet. “Can't you stay for a bit?"

"I'm sorry. I've got something to get to. But I'll catch up with you later, okay?" He doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he’s out of the door.

“Okay.” You mumble quietly to yourself, letting the tears fall freely, having no reason to hide them anymore.

_____________________________

A/N: AHHHH two more chapter left. the end is nigh and only one boy can win. as always feedback gives me the motivation to write and upload faster. also just to let you know i will be giving patreon a try and an alternative ending to this fic will be published with the losing boy there.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming. which boy do you want oc to end up with (voting has no bearing on the final results though i guess now it doesn't matter because we'll have an alternative ending anyway)

Taglist: @blxxsss @sanasour @tinkw1nks @lol6sposts @zuzuhasablog @beomsl @seolis-world @stantxtorurmissingout @wonwooz1@yaorzu-blog@allylikesdabee@rkivezzs@malieno @leviathanlee26 @yomomas-stuff @kurisaiyunobara @girlwholovekpop @zuzuhasablog @viaaasdiary @ho3forkpop @skzvcr @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n @izzyexe @boomfrogg @kpop-cakepops-recs @chronicallygyu @girlwholovekpop

#txt smut #tomorrow x together smut #dom!idol #sub!reader #fem!reader

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agender-witchery · 9 months

Text

On Project Moon

Hey, this is gonna be long, I'm putting most of it under the cut. This post is about the recent firing of VellMori from Project Moon, I know that it warrants some tags for triggers, but I have no idea what's commonly used, so if I miss something, please tell me.

Additionally, I have written this up in a way that if it escapes the target audience of Project Moon fans, it can still be understood, so with that in mind, there will be Library of Ruina spoilers.

The tl;dr for those who don't wanna read the full thing is that Project Moon was put in a very bad position with some violent extremists targeting them and that I'm not happy about any of what happened.

So, for those unaware, Project Moon has fired VellMori, the CG artist for Limbus Company. Now, a not inaccurate statement that can be made from this is "Project Moon fired a woman for being a feminist" but this is... somewhat reductive. Let's immediately get out of the way that VellMori did absolutely nothing wrong. Some people have said she is a TERF. I've seen no evidence of this. Some people have said she wished death on all men. I've seen no evidence of this.

What I HAVE seen is that VellMori thinks sexual abuse is bad. Now, why would this lead to a firing? The short answer is that a bunch of violent incels, one of which was literally dressed as a clown, came knocking at their office doors.

See, Limbus Company has a "beach" event coming up. In this event, we are getting a water themed outfit for two of the characters, one male and one female. For Sinclair, the guy, he has been given an EXTREMELY slutty mechanic's outfit. For Ishmael, the woman, she has been given a very skintight wet suit outfit. Now, I wanna take care to note that VellMori is the CG artist - she had no hand in these designs, a man made them. I would also like to mention that both outfit designs are amazing, and I will be including them at the end of this post for reference.

Now, upon revealing the wet suit design for Ishmael, a bunch of whiny incels on what is basically Korean 4chan got upset that Ishmael, instead of being in a bikini as is usual for gacha games, was wearing a wet suit. Nevermind that the designs in Limbus Company have always been conservative and that the Sinclair design is the most skin we've ever seen and it's just an open shirt. Again, the wet suit is still super revealing, it's skin tight and this is literally the first design of her that doesn't make her look flat chested. They're not rioting over the lack of sex appeal, they're specifically mad that it's not a bikini.

The incels come to the conclusion that the lack of any skin being shown on Ishmael's outfit is a result of evil feminism. No, I'm not exaggerating. They initially begin harassing the artist who is actually responsible for drawing the outfits, but upon learning that he is a man, set their sights on VellMori because she's a woman, and being an artist is good enough I guess. What they do from here is they start digging and digging and digging on VellMori's twitter, making use of archived pages because many of the "offensive" tweets had been deleted.

I'd like to take a moment to point out that VellMori never actually tweeted anything out here - it was all retweets from a 4-6 year old archive, and retweets that have been long deleted. These retweets contain such transgressive statements as "I'm sick of misogyny" and "If being against patriarchy makes me antisocial, then so be it" and just... mirroring back to men what those men were saying to women. Some people would like to have you think she was calling for death to all men. She wasn't. She ALSO retweeted all this stuff while she was a teenager and well before she worked for Project Moon.

Nonetheless, the incels had decided that feminism was the reason Ishmael had a wet suit and not a bikini and they had found a feminist working for Project Moon. It is at this point that we must take a brief detour and talk about Library of Ruina, Project Moon's previous game.

See, in Library of Ruina, one of the protagonists, Angela, has this whole arc about escaping her abuser and becoming a human. Yes, she is literally a robot, but Project Moon isn't exactly a stranger to symbolism in their stories and a feminist reading of Angela is ridiculously easy. The main antagonist in Library of Ruina is Argalia, the Blue Reverberation, and his crew is called the Reverberation Ensemble. Every member of the Reverberation Ensemble is a violent lunatic who each want to reinforce the status quo in their own unique shitty way. In addition to this, typically in order to reach the titular Library, you would need to be invited. The Reverb Ensemble are the "uninvited guests", the ones who managed to reach the Library and knock down the door without an invite.

Why am I talking about this? Well, the incels decided to start calling themselves the Reverb Ensemble, and referring to each other using names of the Reverb Ensemble members such as Pluto, Elena, and Oswald. Having taken on the moniker of the uninvited guests, they then showed up to Project Moon's office to protest. Over the lack of a bikini. Now, remember how I mentioned someone was dressed up as a clown? One of the Reverb Ensemble members, Oswald, is a clown with an extremely tenuous grip on reality. So much so, that his ideal world is one in which there is no meaning whatsoever. That is the character they chose to dress up as. This is either a case of extreme self awareness or extreme self unawareness.

Eventually, the incels were let into the office possibly as a form of damage mitigation to prevent the crowd of protestors from getting any bigger. This was a questionable decision, but they had a group of violent incels at their doorstep either way, and I don't exactly have full details on this. Regardless, Project Moon had on their hands a group of violent protesting incels, who they felt compelled to let into the building, and who had demands including the firing of their feminist employee. (7/28 update: a translation of the transcript posted to DCInside has surfaced. Please check the reblogs for it. Project Moon was verifiably threatened.)

So while "Project Moon fired a woman for being a feminist" isn't inaccurate it also isn't the full picture. More appropriately, it'd be "Project Moon fired a woman because a group of violent incels who weren't satisfied with a form fitting wet suit instead of a bikini showed up to their office demanding that an artist who did not make the wet suit design be fired because she retweeted some feminist stuff 5 years ago while she was a teenager".

I'm not happy with this. None of this is good. People are allowed to be feminists, and Project Moon stories have always presented progressive ideas to anyone with half a brain to do some basic literary analysis. I can understand why they would cave to the demands of people who were threatening them and showed up to their actual place of work, but at the same time, that's someone's livelihood gone and proof that in the future, the same sorts of people can use the same sorts of tactics to bully Project Moon into doing whatever they want. All of this sucks.

For those who would like to see the retweets in question alongside translations: https://twitter.com/danghwangs/status/1683884236888223744

And for people who would like reference as to what the artworks these incels were up in arms about, Ishmael in the wet suit and Sinclair in the mechanic's outfit.

#my nonsense #limbus company #project moon #VellMori #misogyny #library of ruina

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kimsmuse · 3 months

Text

yandere coworker !!

i don't remember who i got the idea about this from but i just thought of someone who wasn't like too older to the reader yet in a powerful and manipulative position.

also i wrote this back in july lolol someone give me back my ability to write or else i'm doomer completely

this is very very rough but it’s hard to say if i’ll ever write this whole thing, but let’s talk about something.

no warnings except typical yandere content, mentions of drugging and manipulation. don't ask me the word count but this is just a short thing that just popped into my head at one point.

yandere coworker, who’s in love with as soon as you stepped in the office as a new recruit but love at first sight is cheesy, so he dismissed it as some casual admiration. but when his boss calls him to his office and asks him to teach you the ropes of the job, he’s internally screaming on how something like this is literally a sign from god himself.

and he talks to you, jokes around because he can see you’re nervous but there’s no need to be nervous, darling. (it’s all in fun and games that he’s calling you that, obviously) because you’re more than capable of doing it, it’s not a very hard job and even if you do mess up, there’s no reason to worry because he’s one of the seniors here, and he’s going to excuse it no matter how bad it is. (doesn’t tell you the whole part, just that he’d manage if you made a mistake. it’s okay, darling. everybody makes mistakes, even he did)

yandere coworker who is more than thrilled to find out you’re great at your job!!! (kinda disappointed tbh that he doesn’t get to coo over you making a mistake and then using it to get an upper hand 😔 but it’s okay there’s going to be plenty of opportunities he’s sure of it)

he takes you out to dinner for doing such a great job!! you’re truly one of the most efficient workers in the office and this, in just under a month! isn’t that wonderful? his darling is so intelligent! but as you talk to him over dinner, it opens a side of an informal relationship with your coworker, you both have inside jokes that you can remind each other of, even during the weekend and which gradually turns into hang outs with just the two of you and you insist on the fact that you both are “just friends” to your own friends, who obviously don’t buy it. but you feel guilty about it because your coworker has been nothing but nice and respectful and maintained his boundaries with you, he doesn’t even feel that way about you!

the turn of events come in the form of a new guy, an intern that you’re required to train and you’re more than happy to because it’s something that your coworkers didn’t get an opportunity on, even with their years of working with the company and you landed in about 6 months. ofcourse it’s your hard work but it’s also something our yandere coworker helped in, put in a good word about you. made sure you got the job and the increase in pay that came with it.

but god, oh god, how he wishes so bad that he’d thought it through as he walks around the office (instead of sitting in his comfy cabin. oh, the things jealousy makes you do) in the echoes of your laughter as the intern makes you laugh. what did he say that was so funny? and why weren’t you working? did you lose your professionalism for this guy? this guy who hadn’t even been here for a day? pathetic. he did not expect his darling to do that.

after about 3-4 days, he can’t physically take it anymore, he has to do something about it. now he knows he can’t say anything to the intern or else he’ll get scared or something. so he calls you in his cabin.

“all the other staff is complaining about your and the intern's disturbance, my dear, please keep it low. and maintain professionalism, okay?” you nod your head. he had never talked to you like this before and it took you a little back that the people you called friends had been backbitching about you? because you had been nothing but nice to everyone around. but you nodded, you thought you might have been stepping over the line. but what you didn’t know is that none of the coworkers had even noticed, they were doing their own job, so tangled up in their stress and why would they rat out one of their own?

you minimise contact with the intern as soon as he knows what to do and keep it to a subtle wave for a “hi,” and “goodnight,” he notices but he thinks that you were being nice to him in the initial days as a way of welcome and he’d heard so many horror stories about coworkers not being nice to each other that the fact that you weren’t at least bullying him made him thankful.

your office friends try and invite you to dinners and karaoke afterwards but you just can’t bring yourself to go because you were already so reserved and closed off but then you find that the people you actually trusted had been complaining about you made it difficult to pretend that it was all okay. because it had been just them for you as friends, since you spent majority of your time with them.

so nowadays it was just walking home early, ordering some food, watching something and then heading to sleep. which was perfectly alright for you, you didn’t need the hangovers that came with drinking on weekdays. and on the weekends.... it got hard but there was music, there were books to read, it kept you busy.

that’s when he texted you.

your yandere coworker was around your flat, could he come over.......? his formal and passive aggressive tone still repeated in your mind, but it wasn’t his fault. he had to do his job. so you gave him a green signal. “yes, sure,” and deep down you’d been craving company so much.

when while talking how he mentions how he doesn't have an instagram account yet, (and he needs one to stalk you btw) you just laughed and he made a joke on his age, it wasn't his fault he was not up with the trends. you offered to help him set it up and show him the ropes. and as you do that, set up a username, find some accounts of interest that he might like, he finds your adorable features all focused so cute!! and you're doing it for him so he gets up and decides to get you something to eat from the shop downstairs!!

but, um, this was really careless on the yanderes part because. how the fuck do you leave your phone w someone else? and when you have an entire album full of photos of that someone else which aren't even taken from the ones you've posted but its a photo of you from one of your work gatherings which you don't even remember this guy attending! and so many photos from the same angle after that, from his cabin to your cubicle...

being a boomer really sucks because this would not be a problem for me i know of a thing called a secure folder so !!! <3

but yes, back to it, when he rings the bell, you panic, you can't not open the door, right? and even if he had been clicking those pictures or whatever, he hadn't proved harmless yet. and what if its just a crush he's clicking pictures of. sometimes people did that. it was normal, wasn’t it?

the yandere might be delusional but you give him a run for his money if your job was having delusions !!!

but as soon as he goes home that night and looks at the tabs opened on his phone (he‘s not that much of a boomer that he won‘t know what recent tabs are) he's scared and when he connects the dots to your offputting but not so much that he would actually suspect it behaviour. it made sense. he sat down for a bit - beating up his table and running his hands through his hair, how could he have been so careless?

he realizes with a sigh that he needs to work quickly now, if he ever wants to have a chance with you. it's now or never. and yandere coworker is anything but someone who backs down from a challenge.

so what he's going to do is simple, he's going to invite you over, preferably in the next 2-3 days to try out this new recipe, and he's gonna knock you out then, (he's sorry it has to be that way) and as for the rest he's quite confident he can make you fall in love with him quite easily!

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vbecker10 · 21 days

Text

Laundry Day

Loki's POV of events: How Could This Not Fit?!

Bucky's spin-off fic: Loads of Fun (different Y/N character) - in progress

Pairing: Loki x female reader (ofc)

Summary: You and Loki are living together in the Avengers Tower and you've asked him to help you with the laundry. You decide it's the perfect opportunity to prank him but that might not have been a good idea... not if you wanted to sleep tonight that is.

Warnings: ... um nothing really, alluding to sex but not much

A/N: I finished my laundry and was folding (trying desperately to fold) my fitted sheet and I came up with this silly little thing so... enjoy 💚

You take a bottle of water out of the fridge in the common kitchen, laughing to yourself as you shake your head.

"Something funny in the fridge?" Tony asks from the island, looking up from his tablet.

You turn to him and open the bottle. "No, I was just laughing about something that could possibly get me in a lot of trouble with Loki," you barely explain.

"I have no idea what that means," Steve says as he and Bucky join the conversation.

You take a sip of water and set the bottle on the island. "I was tired of being the one who did our laundry all the time so I told Loki he needed to help me with it today," you start to tell them.

"Still not seeing the funny," Tony says sarcastically.

"I'm getting there," you wave away his comment and he chuckles. "So anyway, I told him to help and he did... an okay job of it. I mean, the dryer and him got in a bit of a fight but we finally got it done," you continue.

"Did he break the dryer cause I've gotta do like four loads of laundry tonight?" Bucky asks concerned as he pulls out the stool next to Steve.

"How could you possibly have to do four loads of laundry?" Tony turns towards him. "You own one hoodie and three henleys at most," he adds.

"Can we get back to my problem?" you pull their attention back to yourself. "I might not have much time left," you joke but you aren't actually sure how long until Loki comes looking for you.

"What did you do to him?" Steve asks, sounding concerned for your safety. Loki would never hurt you of course, he loved you too much, but when you annoyed him you always found it hard to walk the next day.

"Well, he put all the laundry away using his magic but I told him that was cheating. He said it wasn't and we went back and forth for a bit until I made him a bet," you smile. Loki could never resist a wager, especially since he always assumed he would win, and he usually did. "I bet him... something," you suddenly realize you don't necessarily want the guys to know the dirty things you promised Loki and they all look away awkwardly for a moment as if they understood that.

"Right, whatever... so the bet was for him to make the bed himself, without his magic," you tell them.

"Look, I still don't like him very much but, give him a little credit. I think he's smart enough to figure it out," Bucky says.

"Yeah, that doesn't really seem like a bet you're going to win, Y/N," Steve agrees.

"Well... I might not have except for one teeny tiny little bitty detail," you assure them.

"Which is?" Tony asks with a mixture of curiosity and agitation that the story is taking so long.

"I switched the sheet set," you say, they all stare at you confused and you sigh. "I gave him a full size set... and we have a queen bed. There's not a chance in hell he's going to be able to get the fitted sheet on and if he does manage it, I'll know he used his magic and still win," you smile broadly, proud of yourself for tricking the trickster God.

"Well that's a dangerous game to play," Steve says and before you can respond you hear Loki coming down the hall.

"Y/N," he says when he enters the kitchen. You swallow as your mouth goes dry, he does not look happy. "You cheated," he says without question.

"No, I was just..." you try to explain but he walks towards you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"You... cheated," he says slowly as he backs you into the counter by the sink.

"I mean, only a little," you say with a smile but he doesn't smile back. "And I only did it to make sure you didn't use your magic," you quickly try to explain.

"Um, I think we should go... literally anywhere else," Steve says as Loki grips your waist with both hands and keeps you pressed between himself and the counter.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Loki says with a smirk, still looking only at you. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You gasp and the suddenness of it and he uses one arm to hold you in place by the back of your legs as he turns to leave the kitchen. He pauses and picks up your water bottle. "You'll need to keep hydrated, it's going to be a very long night, love," he says as he carries you down the hall towards your room.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @foxherder @tonystank8

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deantfwinchester · 19 days

Text

Hands

Pairing: No-Outbreak!AU, Joel x Teacher!Reader as usual (let's just assume these No-Outbreak Joels are all the same couple tbh), established relationship

Summary: Friday nights are reserved for sweatpants and relaxation, of course. But when Joel's work week leaves his hands a bit worse for wear, the night may need to include a break for a little extra attention.

Warnings: extreme fluff once again. expect it at this point. i'm a one-trick pony, i fear.

A/N: finally got around to putting one of my many bulleted notes-app idea fics into paragraph form again! Will we get another one before the year's out? It's anyone's guess! -_-

——————

Friday nights are your favorites. No dinner to cook or rattling rolodex of tasks to come in the next twelve hours give you both a little room to breathe — to gently unwind from yourselves and into one another. It’s typically quiet, and when it isn’t, the volume is born of laughter from games or stories the three of you share.

Joel comes home from an exceptionally long week. You know he’s been on site every day—the whole team has—working longer and longer hours to wrap up the latest project before the client’s deadline. You’re pleased to hear his keys rattle in the door not long after five o’clock, and relieved because the air’s rapidly cooling earlier each night. Daylight Savings time is coming to an end, and today he barely beat the sunset getting home.

You know the hour means little, however, and are less than astonished at the weary grin he bears on catching sight of you and Sarah on the couch when he walks in the room. She’s already got her purse on her shoulder, eager to head out when her friends arrive, and she’s excitedly recounting the events of the trailer for the movie they’ll be catching tonight. He stands idly in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the two of you chat. You make brief eye contact and smile back, assuring you know he’s there. Neither of you wants to interrupt her avid storytelling.

“Well don’t you sound excited?” he says when she pauses to catch her breath. You both turn to greet him, and he moves more quickly toward you as you attempt to rise, gesturing to you to remain seated. He’ll come to you both.

He plants a kiss on top of Sarah’s head before leaning down to kiss you as he does each night. You place a hand on his chest and pause when he pulls back to get a good look at his face. You see the fatigue in his droopy-eyed smile, but can’t say anything to him. You already know it’s mirrored in your own expression.

The doorbell rings before either of you can speak again, and Sarah jumps up to head out the door. You wish her a good night, and he follows her to the door, checking for a familiar parent in the driver’s seat and seeing her off. You see him hand her some cash to go with his reminder to make good decisions, and he hugs her. You can’t help but giggle when she takes it with a wide smile.

He turns to you laughing when he sees she’s in the car, and shuts the door.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed in confusion, but amused at the sound of your laughter.

“Smart girl. I gave her a 20 before you got home,” you grin back at him. He stills in understanding and rolls his eyes.

“You couldn’t tell me that two minutes ago?” he asks you in mock exasperation.

“But it’s so much funnier this way!” you add, giggling again. You both know he’s wrapped completely around her finger, though she so innocently does not. It’s one of the first things you noticed about him. One of the first reasons you fell in love.

He shakes his head fondly, and places a hand on his stomach, which begins to grumble softly at him. You raise your eyebrows and meet his gaze. “Any thoughts on dinner?” he asks, and you grin back at him in amusement.

“Handled. Pizza’s already on the way,” you respond and he feigns relief.

“You’re brilliant.” he says, walking up and grabbing your hand on the back of the couch. You run your thumb in little circles on the back of his hand and give it a light squeeze.

“Duh. Now go get changed! It’s do-nothing time starting now,” you respond, patting the top of his hand in encouragement.

“You read my mind,” he says, leaning down for another quick peck before heading off into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes. Naturally, you’ve been in sweats for over an hour now, shedding your own outfit immediately, peeling the school day from your skin. The unspoken uniform for these Friday nights is extremely specific.

The pizza arrives before Joel can even return from the bedroom in a feat of incredible timing. You’re gathering plates and filling glasses with ice when he emerges ready for the night. He moves forward to help you grab the dinner, but you shoo him away to the couch.

“Nope, I got this. You sit,” you say, lightly shoving his chest away. You leave no room for argument. He grumbles a bit and raises his hands, backing away to the living room. You follow behind him with the pizza and plates, and return once more for the drinks before settling next to him on the couch. He sits on one end, and you sit in the middle, leaving little room between you.

You lean forward, putting pizza on one plate you pass to Joel before grabbing your own, then settle back against the cushion, both sinking in so comfortably a nearly audible sigh fills the room. The comfort in this relief is palpable, and the decompressing can begin. You grab the remote and put on the series you’ve been binging together recently, more for background noise than anything else.

A few slices and sitcom episodes deep, you’ve set your plates down on the coffee table. With your bellies comfortably full, you’ve somehow slumped deeper, though Joel into the couch and you into his side. His arm is draped over the back of the couch behind you, and you’re nearly laying on him, head propped against his shoulder.

You hold his free hand in both of yours and absently play with his fingers for a second when you notice the aggressive wear this week has lent his hands. They’re a raw, angry red at the knuckles; his nails are cracked in some places and peeling in others. Moving your fingers gently down toward his wrist, you focus more directly on the state of his, catching sight of a few hangnails and stretched cuticles that can’t be comfortable. He looks down as you begin to worry them beneath the soft pads of your own fingers, and you meet his gaze, brows furrowed as you look between his face and hands.

“Keep doing that, please,” he says with a sigh before closing his eyes, “I wait all day to feel your hands on mine. They’re so soft.” He lifts your hand to his lips before pressing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. He loves the delicate, reverent way you play with his hands, like they’re small, fragile things in need of tender attention. You take his hand once again into both of yours and gently rub it between them, looking back up at him, concerned.

“How do yours feel? They look like they’re hurting you,” you gnaw a bit at your bottom lip in thought, and he tries to assuage your worry.

“I’m alright, darlin’. Nothing worse than I’m used to,” he says. He knows from your deepening frown that you’re less than satisfied with this response.

You couldn’t care less if he’s used to it, he shouldn’t be. You know the protective callouses forged there don’t mean those hands are unfeeling in the slightest.

“Wait there. I’ll be right back,” you say, rising from his side and hastening to the bedroom. It’s his turn to frown now, both in confusion and at the sudden draft that’s appeared at his side.

You return not a minute later with a small tote around your wrist, and hands filled with half the manicure items you own. You sit down next to him and unpack, laying clippers, files, cuticle oil, and two different hand creams — a lotion he’s seen you use regularly, and a jar that must be a new addition — on the coffee table in front of you, along with the selected polishes and remover you had in the tote bag. You’ve been meaning to do your nails, anyway.

Joel looks incredulously at you, unsure where this is going. Not that he’s a stranger to nail polish — he raised a little girl on his own long enough to have worn the rainbow on his fingers, but tonight?

“Sorry, no color for you today, honey. Certainly not before these are healed,” you say. He’d chip half your handiwork away by Monday afternoon anyway the way he’s been working lately. Facing him, you cross your legs on the couch and smile, holding your hand out expectantly for his. He raises his eyebrows at you, but places his palm gently in your own.

You grab the clippers and get to work on the hangnails first. Any peeling skin or cuticle right there at the nail you clip as gently as possible, making note of the reddened and slightly swollen areas at the base of his nail from which they protrude. Those will need careful attention at the end. He doesn’t squirm or react in any way, but you know they’re more sensitive than he’s letting on.

Next, you clip back any breakages and unevenness in the nails themselves. You’d never find Joel Miller with dirty hands — he gets them clean as soon as he gets home, but all the scrubbing it takes to keep them that way takes its toll. A little trim at their length might help reduce the need for so much each day upon his return.

After clipping, you grab his first hand again and rest it gently in the palm of your left while your right files steadily to even any rough edges left behind and prevent further injury. It won’t take much, but you’re sure to get them smooth so they won’t catch on anything or bother him later on.

The cuticle oil is next. He looks at it questioningly, clearly a bit skeptical, only having seen it a few times when you or Sarah used it. He’s never ventured so far himself. While you brush it gently onto each of his nails, you explain its purpose.

“This’ll just help your nails get a little stronger. It’ll get them hydrated a bit, keep ‘em from peeling so much when your hands get dry. It’s kinda crazy how much better this stuff is for your nails than even water is. Water’ll make the peeling worse, actually. Weird, huh?”

He just nods along, listening to you, content to learn something new as always. Finger by finger, you massage the oil into his nail and nail bed. After the first round you go back through to massage again, both to make sure no oily feeling is left behind, and to prolong the rapidly concluding process. He could use the attention, anyway.

Finally, you pick up the jar he identified as a new addition: a canister of a hand repair cream labeled for “Healing of dry or cracked skin.”

“Never seen that one before,” he says, reading the label, “What d’ya need this for? Your hands are never dry! I think they’ve been soft every time I’ve held 'em since the day I met ya,” he smiles at you, and you bashfully brush off the compliment.

“I don’t need it. I use the other one,” you say with finality, opening the jar and pulling the first of his hands into yours. You don’t grab a large dollop of the stuff. You don’t want him to feel a disconcerting weight, grease, or stickiness from this unfamiliar formula, so you get a little and begin. You add a bit more each time you reach a new spot on his knuckles, palms, wrists.

You take your time, gently massaging into those roughened, tender hands far more than a simple healing salve. He understands why you have the jar now, looking at you knowingly, and you smile back. No words need be exchanged.

Once you’ve finished the last finger and the last stroke on his hands, you squeeze the one in your own, then pat it gently with your other, “There. Gotta feel better now, yeah?”

Joel stares at you like he just watched you reach up and place the moon in the sky, if for no reason other than to light his path.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Thank you sweetheart,” he says, squeezing your hand back and smiling reverently at you. You blush beneath his gaze and look away, unsure what to do with the admiration rolling off of him in waves. You lean back against the couch, file in hand as you start going at your own nails.

“Good. Don’t let 'em go that long again, either. Where they start hurtin’ ya? Maybe we oughta make this a weekly thing. Manicure night? Been needing someone to do my right hand,” you grin, wiggling the corresponding fingers at him. He smiles back at you, then reaches over and pulls you toward his side, back to your original position laying against him, head resting once again on his shoulder.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says fondly into your hair, planting a kiss to your head in the process. You get comfortable once more, foregoing any plans to do your own nails tonight. You both know those “manicure nights” will be for him — and you’ve got Sarah to do your right hand already, when you do hers.

You grab the same free hand once again and admire your work, then lace your fingers between his own, and rest your twined hands on his leg. You’re satisfied knowing the hand behind you on the couch is comfortable now, healing from the week’s toils and melting into the comforting haze of the early autumn evening.

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sc0tters · 9 months

Text

Owed It | Jack Hughes

summary: you’re less than happy with how things ended between you and Jack so when the Devils come to Vancouver to play you decide to give him a piece of your mind, but what happens when he has the same idea?

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, face riding, use the of the word slut once, swearing.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: I sort of merged a request of some prompts for Jack and a part 2 of Misconceptions and Confrontations. Although I have left it on a cliff hanger I’m not going to make this into a full blown series which is why there hasn’t been a Masterlist made for this.

pt 1 | pt 3

To say you were surprised when he showed up at your door it was an understatement.

After your conversations died down in December you pushed him to the back of your mind. Sure it was hard at first as you missed staying up until the late hours of the night giggling as you would be on FaceTime with Jack. But when Tito moved to the Canucks within a month of things pretty much ending with Jack you didn't complain. The Quebec native was fun, sure you two hadn't done anything under your clothing yet but that didn't mean that there weren't a few shared kisses when you two got far too drunk for your own goods or after big games as your own celebration for him.

The Canucks player had come over to grab his suit jacket that had he had left after you two went to watch a movie "thanks again," he smiled as you walked him to the door.

The gesture was innocent as he placed his hand on the small of your back "don't mention it," you shook your head as you opened your front door "Jack?" Your eyes went wide as the two of you were met with the middle Hughes boy.

Jack mirror your reaction as he looked at Tito. The boys had met each other on numerous occasions when the Canadian was still with the Islanders "Beauvillier," he scowled as he sent the older boy a glare.

The creased shirt on the Canucks player was not helping your cause, because to the untrained eye it seriously looked like you were letting him out after you two spent the night together.

Tito wasn't one to be scared of Jack or most players for that matter but the look that he was receiving would have made him a dead man if looks could kill "I guess this is my queue to leave," he murmured as he gave you a side hug before the older boy scurried out of your apartment.

The Devils player was still trying to comprehend what he had just seen "what the fuck?" Jack let out an exasperated gasp as you pulled him into your apartment.

You let out a growl "keep your voice down," you grumbled as it was barely eight o'clock in the morning.

It caused the boy to scoff "so now you care about if others can hear you?" The hockey player shook his head as he placed his hands on his jean pockets.

The comment caused you to grow irritated "last time I checked you are not in the position to parent me," you shot back as your eyes went into a glare.

It pissed you off how nonchalant the boy was "you're the one who left me on read," Jack had been left hurt after you ignored his question asking if you were planning on joining Quinn for the Hughes Christmas family dinner, an event that she was always an honorary guest to.

You grabbed the orange juice from the counter that you had been drinking "you're the one who decided that you wanted to see other people," you pointed out as you waved your finger at him "and I'm not one for sharing." Your voice was a low grumble as you brought the glass to her lips.

Jacks once irritated look was now a smirk "were you jealous?" He asked as he knew you were talking about the rumours that he had gotten back with his ex girlfriend.

The reminder of what happened lit a fire beneath you "you know I actually missed you," you scoffed as you couldn't believe that you wanted to see him.

You saw why you hated him so much back then.

The devils player rubbed his hand against his jaw "I missed you too," he blurted out as he walked over to where you were in the kitchen

"Bullshit," you blurted out as you sent him a glare.

The Hughes brother placed his hands on your hips as he pulled you closer to him "come sit on my face and I'll show you how much I missed you." He murmured as his lips were a mere few inches from your own.

Darting your eyes from his down to his lips your voice went croaky "Jack," you mumbled as you kissed him.

Oh how you missed the feeling of those lips on yours. Weirdly enough though the the amount of hatred in it was next to nothing when compared to the first time he kissed you, dare to say it but it was almost like there was a hint of love in this kiss.

As Jack pulled away from you he caught your lower lip in between his teeth as he gave it a small tug "where's your bedroom princess?" He asked as he cocked his head.

Your furrowed your eyebrows almost like you were confused by what he was hinting at "end of the hallway," you let out a soft gasp as you realised what he was hinting to.

So like any horny girl, you locked your hand with his as you pulled him in the direction of your room "you're so eager," the hockey player teased as he reached under your baggy shirt that was clearly one of Quinn’s as he helped you out of your panties.

As you stepped out of them you couldn’t help but roll your eyes "fuck off," you warned as you shook your head.

Jacks lips turned into a pout "that's not very nice," he had this shit eating grin as he sat on your bed bringing you closer by your shirt.

With his other hand he let it trail over your slit "god Jack just," your voice was breathy as you tried to grind on the individual finger.

The boy lay down flat on your bed "come here," he motioned for you to join him on the bed.

But when you only sat next to him he wasn’t happy "up here honey," Jack tapped his lips as he hooked his hand behind your leg helping move you closer.

As you hovered above his face you couldn’t help but remember why you were so irritated "you got a lot of ner-" you were quickly cut off when Jacks tongue darted inside of you.

You never really thought that Jack was the kind of boy to be a munch but god were you wrong "right there," you groaned as his nose continued to knock your clit.

The sensations were something that you weren’t used to. Sure you had been eaten out before but never like this "fuck!" Your one had gripped at the headboard as your other locked onto his hair.

Jacks eyes never left yours “so good," you moaned as you continued to grind on his face.

His lips moved with a pop as he replaced it with his fingers "you like this don't you?" He asked in a teasing tone.

You nodded as you watched him move back to his original position "yes Jack," you repeated your words as he kissed your clit "fuck yeah I do," your voice was broken as you tried to remain calm.

The smirk on his face was clear and you had to break him "this is what you've been missing out on," your comment drew a moan from his lips.

Playing with fire seemed to be your forte "what Tito had been getting whenever he wanted." You cooed as you forced him by his hair to make him look at you.

You got your wish of pissing him off "off," Jack tapped your thigh as he pulled his mouth away from your clit.

The build to your high was quick to become unraveled "wha-" you grew surprised.

He repeated his words "get off.”

Not wanting to piss him off you listened "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you'll forget that guys name." Jack warned as he sat up to kiss your lips.

You loved the way that you could taste yourself on his lips "you want me to forget Tito?" You asked making sure that you put more effort into the boys name.

It caused Jacks eyes to grow dark "see that you've still got that mouth on you," he murmured as he ran his thumb over your lower lip.

Nodding with a smirk "would never lose it for you," you explained as the boy pulled your top over your head.

Jack let out this guttural groan "missed these," he reached out to cup your bare breasts.

It drew a giggle from your lips "just my boobs?" You asked as the hockey player got up.

The boy tucked your hair behind your ear "missed all of you," he placed a kiss on your lips.

You watched as he grabbed a condom from his jeans "you knew what was gonna happen didn't you?" A scoff fell from your lips as he nodded.

He smirked as he pulled his shirt off of his head "cause my baby is my cock hungry slut," Jack rolled the condom over his cock “want you on all fours," he added as he motioned for you to flip over.

Your lips form a pout "got a thing for not seeing my face?" You teased as you let out a giggle.

Jack was surprised that you made that comment no matter how playful your voice was "thought you didn't want me to see your face when you came.” He explained as he pulled you closer now deciding that missionary was going to be the preferred position.

His cock teased your clit before he thrusted inside of you “you gonna be a good girl and take it for me?” Jack asked as his thumbs teased your breasts.

The moan you released was your worst enemy “not a big challenge,” you were proud of yourself for getting the words out.

They seemed to egg Jack on as he pulled your legs over his shoulders. It gave him access to fuck you in a much deeper angle “you liking that don’t you?” He smiled when your face scrunched up as his hand went to your clit.

You wanted to reach up to hit him but as he increased his pace it caused your hand to land on your boob “god,” you groaned letting your fingers tease the nipple.

Jack loved the way that you were so responsive to his actions. Sure other girls had been like that in bed with him before but this all felt different.

The girl that he had been pining over since he was a kid. Yes you thought he hated you but of course your mothers were right, Jack had liked you from the moment he saw you on that swing. The reason why he pulled you off of it? That’s simply because you weren’t listening to him.

You let out a moan “you’re so good Jacky,” you cried out as you made grabby hands at him.

It might have been a childish gesture but you missed the feeling of his lips on yours “my little girl wants a kiss?” He asked as he let his lips hover above yours. The angle that he was now thrusting into caused him to be best friends with your g-spot.

Given the new level of pleasure that you were felling all you could do was nod. And luckily for you Jack wasn’t in the mood to tease you. So his lips went on yours as his tongue swiped across your lower lip as he wanted to feel the feeling of his tongue fighting with yours.

When you let out a moan you granted his wish. Jack swore that the moment forced your head into the mattress that he loved you. Seeing you in the position that you were in made him feel like he was on cloud nine “I’m gonna come,” you announced as the boys motions on your clit quickly sped up.

He wanted you to see reach your high first because Jack was literally seconds behind you “go on my pretty girl.” The hockey player smiled as he kissed your neck.

It was crazy how that little moment caused your orgasm to not only come but also it hit you like a truck.

You repeated a string of “oh my gosh” as your pussy almost suffocated his cock “this pussy was made for me fuck,” Jack cursed as his high was met shortly after yours was.

The boy let out a soft laugh as he took in your sensitive state, it was like that simply didn’t change from the previous time you two spent together.

As he slid out of you your body shuddered “sorry honey,” he apologised as he hook his fingers under your jaw so that he could place a peck on your lips.

But when your phone went off you two each looked at the other with wide eyes.

Quinn x: I’ll be up in three minutes

Quinn x: Got you breakfast.

Sure you shouldn’t have been surprised by this, it was your tradition before every home game “fuck,” you groaned as you quickly got up.

You didn’t seem to care that your legs felt like jelly as you quickly tried to get ready “what?” Jack asked as he hadn’t gotten a chance to see the messages.

You didn’t get a chance to answer his question when you heard the front door open “I’m here!” Quinn called out as he shut the door behind him.

You and Jack were now truly fucked.

#jack hughes smut #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

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alk4li · 1 year

Text

'' break up spectacle ,,

synopsis : xiao breaks up with reader, how do the other genshin characters react and what do they do?

i got this idea from a tiktok pause game and i JUMPED to my laptop cause the angst potential?! ( i think i have an anemo boy issue )

xiao ! un-lover boy

"sorry y/n," and with that he left, the vanishing traces of this adeptal energy were all that was left in the seemingly cold and indifferent room. a room you spent seamless nights in, huddled up against your lover in the coolest of weathers and warmest of days. many treasured memories all reduced to nothing but what they always were, the past.

as you slowly fall onto the wooden floors, kneeling down in front of where your lover once stood, a feeling of disbelief clouded your heavy heart.

who comforts you ?

albedo ! therapy pillow

with a doleful soul, you sat down next to albedo's chair in his dragonspine camp. melancholic eyes drifted to his nimble hands making quick work of his documents before turning back to you.

"hello, y/n. i see you have visited me, what brings you back so unexpectedly?" albedo asked as he sat down across from you.

you smile, explaining the recent events and your feelings to seek comfort in your friend.

albedo listens attentively, expressions staying mostly stoic as he nods along. after your mini rant, he sighs. "so that's why you look half alive, huh. i see. well, im glad you find solace in me," the faintest of quirk in his lips tug upwards as he grabs a plushie from his table. "perhaps i am unable to attend to your needs as much as you'd like, but i am willing to take a day off to walk around monstadt with you and klee." he lifts up the white rabbit-like plush he had received from klee.

"what do you say, y/n?" as he sets the plush on your lap, "you care to join us?"

aether ! empathetic lummox

soon after catching wind from klee about a very sad looking y/n who abruptly visits monstadt after a big mean monster hurt miss y/n, aether puts two and two together and makes plans to have lunch with you. after his long tiring day of commissions, he finally meets up with you in windtrace.

"y/n! there you are!" paimon waved as the pair approached. they sat down next to you, laying out delicious foods.

although the exchange goes per normal, just a casual lunch date between best friends, you can't help but feel like crying as you see paimon choose to let you eat all the good food before her and aether sharing his many encounters around teyvat to lift your mood.

"I've encountered many beautiful sceneries, yet none compare to you"

scaramouche / wanderer ! hesitating muppet

although no one told him ( no one remembers him ), he could sense your broken heart from miles away. "what? why do you look so pitiful. what happened to you always wanting to lunge at my throat?" his snark remarks pour in as always.

you simply shook you head, looking back down.

at your little gesture, scaramouche momentarily hesitates. "ahem, don't tell me such a miniscule thing can upset you?"

he sits down next to you on the luscious grass. silently watching the sunset with you.

"don't be so sulky, you're going to grow wrinkles."

who is secretly glad you broke up ?

kazuha ! repressed feelings

beidou offered you a ride on the crux after hearing about your yearn to depart from liyue immediately. as such, in the midst of the dark sky you boarded the crux, leaving this cursed nation without bidding farewell.

you settled down in your quatres. 'knock knock'.

you opened the door, seeing a solemn kazuha leaning against the door frame. "ah, y/n. i hope i'm not intruding? i just thought you might want some company."

you invited him in, you both quietly sit down on your bed. you sigh, feeling the weight of the past events collapsing on your shoulders. an endless stream of woeful tears flow out. kazuha could only stare at your glistening face.

whilst in your little episode, you suddenly felt two gentle hands grasp each of your own, pinning them on the soft cushion beneath. effectively entrapping you beneath his body and mattress.

"y/n, please stop crying over that childish brute. please, just let me treat you right."

al haitham ! guilty wishes

as you arrive in sumeru, your first destination is to look for the scribe of sumeru. your childhood friend.

"huh, y/n...? it's been so long," the tall male stood baffled at your presence.

you grin as al haitham slowly registers your appearance. not long after, the two of you head to the nearby cafe for drinks. you catch him up to date and the tragic news behind your return to sumeru.

after hearing your story, alhaitham's face turns to stare at your eyes with a unnerving yearning, but it was too quick for you to notice as you gaze at the approaching waiter.

as the waiter takes down your orders he suddenly asks if you're single. however, before you could reject him, al haitham spoke.

"no, she is in fact courting me. are you perhaps too visually impaired to see we are currently out on a date?"

who would exact revenge ?

tartaglia ! justice served

during his ventures about teyvat, he had heard about what happened from aether. tartaglia was not one to get too into other peoples business, but something sparked within him.

he deploys more fatui's near the inn, often causing unnecessary trouble around the perimeter and blocking the import of tofu and almond in spite.

"hope you choke on many almonds tonight."

bonus :

cyno ! god of laughs

hes telling you many lame jokes.

of course you're playing tcg! he would purposely use xiao's card and let you beat him with a very special general mahamatra card!

"yes, very good,"

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wolfjackle-creates · 8 months

Note

Ask Game:

8. "Who did this to you." and 24. Showing up at friend/mentors house.

With hurt Danny and any/all of the Bats.

Okay, but holy shit, you have no idea how perfect this one is. I was imagining a scenario with both of these earlier today. This is an alternate version of Bring Me Home where Danny and Tim were online friends from the time they were preteens. The actual fic will not go this way, so I'm so excited to have an excuse to share this version with y'all.

Nonny, I absolutely love you for sending these two in (no romo).

For those who don't follow Bring Me Home. Tim's username was IKnowYourSecrets and Danny often calls him "Secrets." Danny's username was -xXPolarisXx- and Tim will call him "Polaris."

And for everyone, Sam and Tucker ended up with codenames after all their adventures in Amity. Sam is referred to as Regrowth and Tucker as Pharaoh. This will come up later in Bring Me Home, but hasn't yet (mainly bc what I'm writing now takes place before those events).

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

Danny's vision blurred and he felt himself fall a dozen feet. He clutched his stomach tighter and grit his teeth against the pain.

He was almost there. He could make it.

With the last of his strength, he shot an ectoblast into the sky and fell a few more feet, hitting the roof of a building. He scrapped along the rough surface and the only reason he didn't scream was because he couldn't catch his breath enough to. Everything hurt.

He couldn't even push himself up and so just lay there, trying and failing to catch his breath. Not even when he heard a strange noise and footsteps behind him could he move. He tensed as much as possible.

"Who are you?" asked a man.

Danny just groaned. He hurt. He needed Tim.

The footsteps got closer and Danny opened his eyes. When had he closed them? He saw black boots and skin-tight leggins.

Then the man was kneeling. Blue accents on his chest, a domino over his eyes.

Danny let out a sigh. It tasted of ectoplasm. "Ni-win," he slurred.

"So you know who I am, who are you? What happened? How can I help?"

"R— R'bin. Know me."

"You're looking for Robin?"

His vision was going dark. "R'bin. Yea. Secrets. Friends."

"I'll get Robin here. Can you tell me your name?"

"Polaris. Tell—" Danny coughed weakly and spat out more ectoplasm. "Tell 'im, 'M ready to accept 'is offer."

"I will," promised Nightwing.

The blackness crept in further. Danny could hear Nightwing still talking, but couldn't make out the words. Everything was getting fuzzy. But he was in Gotham. Tim was here. Tim would make it all better. He let go.

---

Despite the quiet night, Tim was tense. He couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. So when Dick's panicked voice came over the comms asking Damian about a secret friend, he was already pulling up Dick's location.

He was on the roof of Tim's civilian apartment building. Which, what?

"I do not have any secret friends," came Damian's reply.

"He's a meta. Caucasian with white hair. He's hurt bad, bleeding everywhere. Lazarus green blood—"

Tim's blood ran cold and he wished he could grapple faster. "Fuck! I'm heading to your location now. He's my friend, not Robin's. Bring him into my apartment. He needs specialized medicines and I've a supply."

"He called himself Polaris. Said he's ready to accept your offer," said Dick.

"Shit. Fuck. Okay. Eta, fifteen minutes."

"I'll get him inside."

"Don't try to treat his injuries," Tim ordered. "Human treatments won't work."

"Understood."

"And..." Tim hesitated, "Did he say how he was injured?"

"No. He passed out before he could."

Tim cursed again, but didn't reply further, despite the way the rest of his family demanded information. If it was the GIW, he'd need to arrange extraction for Sam and Tucker. But if it was Danny's parents... Well, he might just cross a line he swore he'd never cross when he first put on the Robin suit.

Fifteen minutes later, he was sliding the window to his apartment open. Dick had Danny laid out on the floor and was stripping him and pulling away loose bandages, revealing a large Y-shaped incision on his chest.

Dick looked up at him, face grim. Tim didn't let himself pause to look and ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He slid open a hidden compartment revealing a safe and, with shaking fingers, punched in the code. The door swung open and he grabbed the silver-and-green case inside.

He rushed back to Danny's side. "Who did this to you?" he mumbled as he took stock of the injuries.

"Do you have any idea who might've wanted to hurt him?" asked Dick.

"With these wounds, it would be either the GIW or his parents." Tim bit back a hysterical laugh. "Been trying to get him away from them for three years now, but he swore they'd be okay once they realized who he was. Idiot." Tim bit his lip. He couldn't cry right now. He opened the case and pulled out gloves and antiseptic and began cleaning the wounds. "Dick, I need you to contact Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl. Tell them Phantom's hurt bad and Regrowth and Pharaoh may need immediate extraction."

"Okay." Dick was already typing away on his phone. Moments later, it started ringing and Dick answered it on speaker.

Cassie's voice came over, "Red Robin, what's going on?"

"Phantom's been vivisected. He passed out before he could share the culprits. We're at my apartment in Gotham. If it was the GIW..."

"I'm sure Impulse is already there. I need to go home and grab my deflector first, but I'm going to get to Amity as soon as I can. We'll keep you updated."

"Thanks. Phantom's in bad shape. I don't..."

"Rob, you know what to do. We've known this was a risk for three years. You've talked to Frostbite and Regrowth and Phantom about how to best care for traumatic wounds. You're going to make sure he pulls through this."

Tim's eyes burned, but he kept working. Almost done and then he could start with the stitches. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Rob."

The call disconnected and Tim took a shaky breath. Time to start the stitches. They'd come directly from Frostbite and the thread glowed a bright, ectoplasm green.

"Tim," Dick's voice was tight, "Why do you have a case filled with Lazarus water and Lazarus-green supplies?"

"Not Lazarus water." He didn't bother explaining more. He laid the thread along the wounds and willed it to close the wound.

The thread obeyed, breaking into small pieces and sewing the skin together on his own. For the first time since he realized Danny was hurt, he smiled. Ghost medicine definitely made this part easier.

With the major injury taken care of as best as possible, Tim began checking over the rest of Danny. He had a bad burn on his left thigh, new electricity marks on his right shoulder, and his right ankle was either badly sprained or broken.

So he set to cleaning those as best he could. Creams then bandages covered the burns. The splint he laid along the ankle set itself just like the stitches had.

Dick tried to help, but Tim brushed him aside. It'd take too long to explain what had to be done.

Eventually, Dick got up and walked away. He could hear him in the kitchen area messing around in the fridge and reporting the situation over the comms, but he ignored it.

Finally, everything was categorized and bandaged to the best of his abilities. Now, for the final step. He pulled out a syringe shining bright with ectoplasm and stabbed it into a mostly-uninjured area of Danny's thigh.

Danny's back arched off the ground and he gasped, eyes flying open.

Tim leaned over him, "Danny, it's okay. You're safe now. You made it."

"Tim," gasped Danny.

"Yep. You made it. Can you tell me who did this to you?"

Danny closed his eyes and breathed out. "Mom and Dad."

Tim grasped Danny's hand. "Danny..."

Danny squeezed back. He opened his eyes and met Tim's gaze. "Still have that spare room for me?"

"I've had it since the day you died, idiot. Welcome home."

Danny gave a small smile even as tears tracked down his cheeks. "I'm home."

-----

Okay! That ended up being both longer and shorter than I thought it'd be. Hope you all enjoy. Thanks again for sending the prompt, Nonny! And the rest of you, feel free to keep sending some in. I'm off tomorrow and should be able to fill one or two. Any others I can work on over the course of the week.

For now, it's bedtime.

#dpxdc #ask game #prompt fill #bring me home au #au of an au #my writing #angst #danny fenton #tim drake #injuries #vivisection aftermath

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choke-me-joey · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, violence, smut.

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 2

It had been 3 weeks since you had gone to your first Hellfire Club meeting, and 3 weeks since Eddie had fallen head over fucking heels for you.

He'd liked you before sure, a harmless crush, but now he knew you were into good music and his favourite fantasy game? Consider him a truly smitten kitten.

And now, when you turn up to school in a Hellfire shirt, ripped jeans and that fucking jacket, Eddie could have kissed you right then and there in Ms O'Donnell's class.

"Hey," you grin as you take your usual seat next to him, sliding him a brown paper bag over to him. "So it turns out that Mountain Dew, cigarettes and Cheetos aren't a substantial diet, so I accidentally on purpose made extra chicken salad today. Figured you'd need some more sustenance y'know, got a feeling tonight's session is going to be killer."

"Hey, I eat other stuff too."

"Twinkies and coffee also don't have fantastic nutritional value, Munson." You tease, rolling your eyes. "Ever heard of a vegetable? Y'know, the healthy green stuff?"

"Oh, I'm into the green stuff alright." Eddie grins, eluding to his precious stash. You give him an exasperated look. "I'm kidding. Thanks. And the uh, the shirt looks good."

"Thanks," you smile, tucking some hair behind your ear. Were you...blushing?? "So, um, I was wondering-"

"Miss Y/L/N, is there something that you need from Mr Munson right this very second?" Ms O'Donnell glares at the pair of you.

"I mean, I guess it could wait, 5, maybe 10 minutes?" You quip, making Eddie chuckle. The old bat doesn't seem to be in as bad a mood as usual today, so somehow you narrowly escape detention but earn yourself an extra 5 chapters on the reading for over the weekend.

Later on, when Eddie is diving in to the fucking delightful chicken salad, the Hellfire Club, minus you as unfortunately you had yet to be released from the grip of the cheerleading table, don't miss the unusually nutritious food their glorious leader is consuming.

"Jesus, Eddie, is that an actual sandwich you're eating?" Gareth teases, for which he gets a mini pretzel to the face.

"Is that what Y/N gave you in English this morning?" Jeff smirked and Eddie rolled his eyes. "It is! She's making food for you?! Damn, when's the wedding?"

Eddie shot him a warning glare and it was clear that this was not a topic to be joked about.

"Jesus." Jeff grumbled, shrinking back in his seat.

"I still can't believe we have a cheerleader in Hellfire," grinned the Henderson kid, clearly loving the events of the last 2 weeks a little too much. The heart eyes the little nerd made at you each week over the table during campaigns was almost laughable.

"She's not just a cheerleader, Henderson," Eddie mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich. Because you weren't. You were a pretty cool person, who liked kick ass music and liked fantasy games, but who could also get her leg above her head, not that Eddie had been thinking about that very much at all-

"Hey, Eddie! Hi guys!" Your voice snaps Eddie out of his rapidly approaching dangerous thoughts and he realises you're stood next to him, your perfume wafting over and Eddie kind of wants to just inhale you.

The rest of the table greets you and then go back to their conversations, mostly about band practice, AV club or possible new campaign ideas. Eddie turns to look at you, smiling.

"What's up?"

"So, I was trying to say before we got interrupted earlier, I was wondering if you're going to be going to Jason's party tonight?" You smile, a hopeful look on your face. Eddie raises his eyebrows.

"Uh, gee, my invite must have gotten lost in the mail," he grins. Like he was getting an invite to that douche fest. It would be the last place on earth he'd ever be caught-

You laugh. "Well, it's a good thing I'm inviting you verbally then, huh?"

"Wait, wait, wait. You want me to come?" Eddie's eyes were practically like saucers now. Was he definitely hearing this right?!

"Of course! I mean you don't have to if you don't want to, I just figured you'd probably get a few extra customers there and I don't wanna be stuck by myself all night. These things get kinda boring when you don't have someone to distract you from the god awful music." You shrug, adjusting your bag on your shoulder.

Goddamn you were too cute.

Eddie sighs. If he was going to suffer through this, at least he could make some extra cash.

And be with you.

"Fuck it, yeah, I'll come."

"Awesome! Pick me up at 7.30?" You hand him a scrap of paper with your address on it. He frowns at it.

"Pick you up? Like a-"

"Like a date, if you want?" Your tone was hopeful, eager, and the biggest shocker was that you were completely serious. You weren't joking. You were actually asking him out. Eddie cleared his throat.

"Shouldn't this, uh, be the other way around?" He gestured between you both, and you shrug.

"I got tired of waiting. So, are we on?"

"It's a date, sweetheart."

***

At 7.30 on the dot, Eddie is waiting outside your house in his van, anxiously checking his own breath again. He was pretty pleased with how he looked tonight, his usual ratty band shirts or Hellfire shirt replaced with simple black tshirt and jeans without holes in, a red plaid shirt and his trusty leather jacket. His hair wasn't too unruly either, which made a nice change, and he was freshly showered and shaved.

Wayne had caught him dabbing aftershave on in the tiny trailer bathroom, hissing at the sting, and thanked whoever was sat on their asses in the sky that his nephew had finally found a date that wasn't a six-pack and a large pizza.

You stepped out of your front door and Eddie just about passed away. You were wearing a simple, short and sleevless black dress, one that clung to you in all the right places, with a chunky belt around your middle. Your legs were bare right down to your Dr Martens. You looked...ethereal. Breath taking.

Your face lit up the moment you locked eyes with Eddie and you walked up to the driver's side window.

"Hey, handsome. We match." You grin, gesturing to your predominantly black outfits.

"That we do," Eddie chuckled, pretending his cheeks weren't warming at you calling him handsome. "Ready to go, cutie?"

Well, if you could call him names...

He definitely noticed your cheeks flushing at that.

The drive to the party was a relatively short one, you and Eddie discussing your favourite Black Sabbath tracks, and whether you think Ozzy really did bite the head off of that bat.

"Bats are so cute! It had to be fake, there's no way." You'd said, a little pout on your face as you talked about it.

"Oh it was real, the way it bled and shit?? There's no way that could be faked." Eddie chuckled. "So fucking metal."

"So fucking gross, what if he got rabies?!" You laugh, sticking your tongue out in disgust. "You know, this isn't good first date conversation."

"It isn't? Damn, I must be a little rusty from the non-existent dating life I have." Eddie smirked. "You have better conversations with uh, whats his name, Anderson??"

The way you frown at him makes Eddie think that maybe that was a bit of a low blow, past the playful bantering and bordering on a little mean.

"I never dated that asshole. And I never fucked him either." You growl. "He's such a prick, as if I'd ever touch him or his warty dick."

Eddie bursts out laughing. "Warty dick?!"

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you. "He got genital warts from hooking up with some girl from out of state one time. Didn't use a rubber so I guess that's what you get. Plus he's a massive asshole, so he deserves it."

Eddie nods in agreement.

"You know him and his massive asshole buddies are going to be there tonight, right?" He says, leaning forward to check the traffic at the junction he'd pulled up to. You sigh.

"I know, again, that's why I invited you. So I have someone to talk to other than Chrissy or Tammy or Ashley about their upcoming dates or our next competition. I just wanna relax and have fun with a cute guy who wants to actually get to know me, not my pussy."

"You think I'm cute?" Eddie slyly grins and you roll your eyes playfully.

"Don't let it go to your head, Munson."

"Which one?" He jokes and you smack him lightly, laughing hard.

***

A few hours later, you're already a few drinks in, blissfully tipsy. Eddie has had maybe one or two piss weak beers, wanting to stay relatively sober to drive you home and to stay on top of his selling game. Although he'd already made bank within the first hour of the party, so now his main concern was you.

Eddie didn't really know what to do with himself; 99% of the people here hated him and avoided him like the plague. So he was happy just to sit on one of the chairs outside with you as you both smoked, happily chatting and getting to know each other better.

He'd not missed how you'd scooted your chair closer to him, or how occasionally your hand would rest on his arm. You'd not missed how he'd lean into you, or brush his hand over your knee or thigh when he was reaching for something.

Your brain swirled in the best way when Eddie took your hand and helped you up so you could both go and get another drink from the kitchen. He went to pull away after you were on your feet, but you linked your fingers through his and led him inside, pushing through the crowd to reach the drinks.

"I gotta piss," Eddie shouted over the thumping music, giving your hand a squeeze to wordlessly let you know he'd be back. You nodded, grabbing another cup and looking around for the bottle you had been nursing the entire night.

"Wow, Y/N, you fucking the freak now? Made your way through the football, basketball and baseball teams and needed a new challenge?" Anderson's ribbing voice floats over the loud music and you bristle, but ignore him. "Aw, what's wrong baby? Did I touch a nerve?"

"Fuck you Anderson. Take your micro dick and go bother someone else." You snap, finishing mixing your drink and attempting to leave the kitchen. Anderson scoffs, trapping you against the counter with his hefty quarterback frame, his alcohol soaked breath fanning over you making you want to gag.

"You look sexy tonight, Y/N, s'like you're begging to be fucked. You know that freak Munson couldn't do half the shit I could do to you," Anderson slurs and you shudder in disgust.

"What's that? Last 20 seconds and pretend like you rocked my world? I told you once and I'll tell you again, I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last creature on earth, Anderson. Fuck. Off." You growl, pushing against him but he doesn't move. He smirks, shoving his hand up your skirt. Your reflexes kick in and you drive your knee up, straight into his crotch as hard as you can. When he staggers backwards clutching his groin, you punch him square between the eyes and hear the sickening sound of bones crunching. The pain that shoots through your hand is quickly dulled by adrenaline as Anderson stumbles backwards onto the floor, blood pouring from his nose. The entire party is silent, save for the music which is still playing.

Eddie pushes his way into the kitchen after returning from the bathroom, and his mouth falls open at the scene in front of him. You, panting with fury, skirt pushed up pretty much to your crotch, fist covered in blood, and Anderson crumpled on the floor, blood pissing out of his nose and groaning in pain. Two of the other football players pick him up, staring at you in shock.

"She's a fucking psycho!" Anderson yells, his voice thick with blood. "See what happens when she starts hanging around with that fucking freak?!"

Eddie blinks and you let out a scream of rage, diving for Anderson again. Eddie is quick to grab you, restraining your arms behind your back as you struggle to get at Anderson.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, alright? It's not worth it," Eddie says, soothing and low in your ear. "Come on, let's go."

"If you ever touch me again, Anderson, I'll cut your dick off!" You growl, still struggling against Eddie's grip as he practically picks you up and carries you out of the house towards his van.

"Eddie, that motherfucker, he-"

"I know, sweetheart. I know." Again with the soothing tone. Eddie pretty much carries you to his van and puts you in the passenger seat, buckling you in. He notices your slight shiver and takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Eddie gets in and starts to drive.

"Your hand okay?" He asks gently, and you nod. He sneaks a glance at it, already bruised and covered in blood. "Y/N."

"It hurts," you sniff, your tough exterior cracking. "Fucker has a hard face."

Eddie laughs and you shoot him a look. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, just wish I'd have been there to see you throw the punch."

"And the knee to the balls," you smirk, and Eddie winces slightly, knowing how bad it must have hurt.

"Jesus, Y/N. What did he do?" Although Eddie had a sneaking suspicion judging by the way your skirt had been pushed up practically around your waist when he came back from the bathroom.

"Aside from trying to shove his hands into my underwear, tried to tell me he could..." you trail off, not wanting to say it for fear of scaring Eddie off, or weirding him out.

"He could...?" Eddie probed. You sighed, looking out of the window as you spoke.

"Pretty much that he could fuck me better than you ever could." You said quickly, your cheeks once again flushing scarlet. Eddie went silent, swallowing hard. "He's just an asshole, I don't care what he says about me, but when he brought you into it, I-"

"Had to defend my honour?" Smirking, Eddie looks at you. "Listen, sweetheart, I'm glad you beat the shit out of him, he's a fucking bitch and deserved it but you didn't have to do it for me."

"I know." You answer and the conversation falls into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"And I could definitely fuck you better than he ever could." Eddie states, making you burst out laughing.

"Renember earlier how I said dont let it go to your head? That's the kind of shit I meant. No more compliments for you, mister."

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