#it's a school night and they'd have to have it on late because of the news and the one show

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Seeing a few people moan that the 60th specials not airing on the 23rd is somehow a bad thing, as if its somehow breaking with tradition. 'The Three Doctors' aired 11 months before the 10th anniversary. Airing two days later so it can go out on a Saturday isn't that big of a deal.

#doctor who #dw #day of the doctor lucked out by having the 23rd fall on a sat that year #otherwise it would've aired a different day as well #because the bbc won't air a big doctor who special on a weekday unless it is christmas #thursday is a bad night for doctor who #it's a school night and they'd have to have it on late because of the news and the one show #i'm sure they'll do something for that day #but having any of the specials air then was never really an option

[star-sim]

my love (mine all mine) ☆ jake sim

☆ non-idol! jake x fem! reader ☆ summary: after years of abuse, jake is afraid of love, so why do you have to be so warm? ☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied adult! au, very domestic ☆ warning(s)? domestic violence and abuse, poor parenting, 1 mention of self harm, implied mention of suicide, kinda indulgent sorry ☆ word count: 1.5k

The earliest memory that Jake had was the sound of porcelain plates crashing against the tiled kitchen floor, and the wails of his mother. 

For a period of time, it was all that he could remember: going home to a cold house, hand-in-hand with his older brother, his heart pounding in his chest as his young mind wondered if Dad was going to hurt Mom again, or if they'd go back to loving each other tonight. 

He couldn't have been any older than nine when he experienced the wrath of his father first-hand, when he came to school in May wearing a long-sleeve shirt and long pants as if the early-summer weather wasn't rising, the scent of citrus filling the air. Sure, the bruises, and later scars (because of course, his father just had to try to stab him with a broken beer bottle), hurt, but nothing would compare to the silence that rang through the house after a screaming match. It would pierce his ears every single time, so loud that it was deafening, yet so silent that Jake could hear every single breath that his mother took as she pulled at her hair, driving blades into her skin, ignoring the quiet rumble of her child's stomach. 

He'd gone to bed hungry many times. Too many times.

But, perhaps the worst memory that Jake had was the morning after his seventeenth birthday. Jake spent his birthday outside the house, not wanting to be suffocated by the taste of salty tears and domestic violence in the air. He came back late, much later than he should have. 

Thank god, neither of his parents were home, and his brother was already off to college by then. When they weren't screaming at each other, physically assaulting their son, or neglecting him, his parents were either off to work, or hanging out with their sketchy friends, drinking all of their responsibilities (like their children) away like nothing else mattered.

Or so he thought.

Because the next thing he knew, his mother was shrieking at him, hitting him with the same hands that should have been cradling his face. And when his bastard of a father heard the commotion, it was almost like he was excited, excited to have an excuse to put his son in a chokehold. It seemed like the only time that his parents wanted to agree with each other was when they could hurt him.

As his lungs closed in on him, his choked breaths gasping for air while Jake tried to pry his father's hands off his neck, he felt light-headed, a fuzzy feeling filling his head until his body lost all its strength.

Jake swore that he would have died that night, if it weren't for the barks of the family dog.

If his perception of family, love, and marriage wasn't already warped, that early morning of his seventeenth birthday did.

He vowed to himself then and there, that he would never get married, nor would he ever start a family. 

Yet, as you held him in your arms, enveloping him with warmth as hot tears streamed down his face, Jake could feel all his resolve slipping away.

Indeed, his vow held up. It held up all throughout college and for years into his adulthood. He became known as the "single friend," the friend that was always the designated driver because he'd rather die than consume a drop of alcohol.

But then you pranced your way into his life.

You, with your beautiful face. You, with the brightest smile that he'd ever seen. You, with the softest, most gentle touch.

When you wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing tender kisses against the nape of his neck as you giggled a soft,"I love you," Jake's heart pummeled to his stomach.

It was suffocating.

His hands were clammy, so moist with sweat that he had to wipe his palms on his jeans. His chest would pound, loud enough for it to be the only sound filling his ears. His stomach twisted, a hot coil curling in his abdomen. It was nauseating.

But the worst was what he felt in his throat.

Something wicked— Something overwhelming and painful— clambered up his throat. It wrapped itself around his neck, pulling tight like the noose his mother threatened to put around her own neck. When it crawled up to his mouth, Jake nearly threw it up. He tried to swallow it down, but he gagged.

And it was already too late.

He'd already muttered the words, "I love you, too" back.

Love was terrifying. If he loved, what would happen? Would he get married, and enter a life of pure misery? 

And what if he had kids?

When Jake was angry and he looked in the mirror, he hated the way that all he saw was his father's eyes staring back at him. His mother always told him that he looked like his father anyway. 

Jake knew he wouldn't. He would never lay a finger on another person, let alone his own kin. But as days and years passed, his voice only sounded more and more like his own father's. He couldn't help the way his expressions scarily resembled his mother's, the same ones that he'd seen contort into fear, wrath, and indifference.

But here he was.

In the dark, his face was buried in your shoulder, the same ones that he'd kissed. You patted his back as he let out sobs, wet and salty tears wetting your skin.

It was another night, where you and him would hang out and flirt in your apartment, maybe do a little kissing. 

Maybe he shouldn't have laid down with you. Maybe he shouldn't have let you put your fingers in his hair, stroking it gently as he laid on your chest. Maybe he shouldn't have listened to your every word as you traced his face, muttering to him everything about him that you loved about him. He shouldn't have, he really shouldn't have. Especially when you ended it all with a kiss to his eyelids, whispering into his ear, "I can't wait to marry you one day."

Jake always did his best to contain his emotions. After all, he'd learn to do it so well because of his home life. No one had to know about his struggles.

Yet he couldn't help the wave of emotions that crashed down on his shoulders. One moment, he was smiling in your kiss, the next his face was wet.

It didn't help when you were so warm to him. You cradled his face, kissing his tears away, hands holding him like he was a piece of glass. 

"I'm scared," was all he could say.

Because that was all he felt in that moment.

Fear.

Fear, because he couldn't figure out why he was crying. 

Fear, because now all his emotions were spilling out. 

Fear, because you said you wanted to marry him.

Fear, because he, too, wanted to marry you.

You didn't let him go that night.

You stayed there with him, letting him cry into your shoulder until the sun rose. You didn't know why exactly, but the way he gripped your waist like you'd leave him was enough to tell you.

"I know, I know," you'd whispered into his ear. "I know, Baby."

All he did in response was pull you closer, and chant your name like it was a prayer, like you were his god and he was your worshiper.

Jake's favorite memory was the sound of wailing.

Not the wailing of his mother, not the wailing of his older brother, but the wailing of the child in your arms.

He could only watch with misty eyes as the small newborn clung to your chest, loud crying filling the hospital room. 

"Jakey," you said weakly, flashing him a smile. "Look what we made."

We.

That's right. 

This child was his and yours. As he held the baby, being careful not to do anything stupid, Jake stared into its crying eyes (as if his eyes weren't crying, too). 

When Jake looked at his child, he saw his eyes. He saw the same eyes that his own father gave him. He wasn't filled with fear, or anger, or guilt— he felt love. 

This child didn't have his father's angry eyes, the eyes that Jake spent his entire life believing he inherited.

No, this child had Jake's eyes, Jake's eyes that were filled with love.

You giggled softly as you watched your husband's intent and utterly fascinated gaze at your child. He snapped his head up at you.

"I love you," he blurted. He didn't say it a lot. It felt like poison on his tongue when he did, something unnatural and not meant for him. But in that moment, it felt like his entire being was made to say it. "God, I love you so much."

Yes, Jake would run. 

He'd run, and run, and run, from love. 

He'd run as far as he could, until his legs gave out.

He'd run for eternity, because he knew that one day, he'd walk to you.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #jake sim #jake sim x reader #jake enhypen #jake sim imagine #jake fluff #jake sim angst #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jaeyun angst

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

#jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #the scarecrow #batman imagine #the batman #batman #the dark knight #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillain murphy #jonathan crane smut

[vivwritesfics]

Pastry

Boyf Oscar moments

1.3K

I need moots

"Oscar Pastry!" She sang as she skipped towards the McLaren garage.

The Australian in question glared at her, but it was a good thing his glare made him look like an angry puppy.

"That's not my name," he said as she came closer.

Y/N thought for a minute. "No, no. I think it is," she answered and looked around the garage for his teammate. "Lando! This is Oscar Pastry, right?"

"Definitely Oscar Pastry!" Lando shouted back.

"That's settles it then, Oscar Pastry."

Oscar may have been glaring, but he skill kissed her. "Wish me luck today," he said, placing his hands on her hips while Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Good luck, Pastry," she whispered and placed her head against his chest.

Oscar kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms more securely around her.

Pastry, because that was what Y/N thought his name was when they'd first met. She'd soon learnt it was Piastri, but by then it was too late and the name had stuck. Even before they were dating, she still called him Oscar Pastry.

It was his name in her phone when they were innocently flirting over text. When the flirting was no longer innocent, his name was still Oscar Pastry.

When Oscar had asked Y/N to be his, she'd answered with "Of course, Oscar Pastry."

Now, a year on from that everything was different. Oscar was no longer in F2 and a lot more of his life was in the limelight. But he was still Y/Ns Oscar Pastry.

***

2023 was Oscars rookie season. But he was amazing. Y/N always came away from each race filled with pride. Oscar could have DNFed or finished each race last and she still would have been filled with pride.

"Pastry!" Y/N shouted as he got out of the car. He wasted no time in taking her into his arms and spinning her around. His helmet was still on his head, so Y/N had no choice but to kiss it, to kiss where his mouth should have been.

He let her go, pulled off his helmet and gave her a real kiss. One that had the lads in the McLaren garage clapping their hands and turning away to give them a little bit of privacy.

After that Oscar was off to do what he needed to do after the race. Y/N waited for him in his driver's room. She played on her phone, scrolling through social media to see pictures of the race already up on her Instagram.

The Oscar fans were her favourite. There were some familiar faces on her feed, fans that had been there since his F2 days and had moved up into F1 with them.

There were several pictures of Oscars McLaren driving around the track. There were quick videos of him overtaking other drivers and pictures of his jumping out of his car.

And then Y/N got to the F1 news sites. Ever since Oscars F1 debut, the news sites run by the male F1 fans had been overly critical of her specifically. So, Y/N tended to avoid them. She stuck to the accounts that loved her and Oscar together, the accounts that didn't tear her down just because she was with Oscar.

The wag accounts had posted updates from the race, the most recent of which being the picture of her kissing Oscars helmet. And then it was the pictures of her actually kissing Oscar. Him all sweaty and disheveled from the race, her radiating pure joy.

***

Y/N couldn't go to every race. As much as she tried, she couldn't make it to every single one. She had work and school to attend.

So, when she couldn't make it to a race, Oscar was very understanding. They called and texted as much as they possibly could. Even if she had to watch the race through her tv screen, she still watched the race.

Studying and working was a tiring business. Sunday evening, after the race, Y/N was exhausted. With preparing to write her thesis, she only managed to half watch the race. It was mainly her listening out for Oscars name and number as she typed away at her laptop.

Oscar was due home that night. To the some they shared.

Y/N tried her very best to stay awake as she waited for him, she really did. Maybe her first mistake was climbing into bed. Maybe her first mistake was getting under the blankets and letting the warmth cocoon her.

The same thing probably would have happened if she had stayed sitting on the couch. At least in her bed she was comfortable and unlikely to hurt her back like she would on the couch.

When Oscar got in, the lights and the television were still on. It was kind of worrying, actually, seeing all the lights on and no sign of his girlfriend. "Y/N?" He called, looking around into their kitchen. "Y/N?"

Oscar went around, checking every single room. And then he got to their bedroom.

Slowly, Oscar pushed open the door. It didn't stop the door from squeaking as he opened it. He put his head around the door and looked in.

There she was, sleeping peacefully in their bed. In way of pyjamas she had on an orange McLaren hoodie.

Oscar tried his best to be quiet. He tried to move around the room silently, tried to be light-footed, but he wasn't doing a very good job. Every time the floorboards creaked under his feet, he turned back to his girlfriend, to make sure she was still asleep.

As Oscar got dressed, Y/N stirred. She rolled towards him, her eyes fluttering open. "Pastry?" She called, her voice croaking.

Suddenly she was sat up, rolling out of bed and stumbling towards him. "Oh my god, Pastry. You're back," she said and wrapped her arms around him.

Oscar had to hold her steady as they hugged. "I missed you too, baby," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. He walked her back over to the bed and sat her down.

"Love you, Oscar Pastry," she whispered and promptly went back to sleep, wrapped in his embrace.

***

"This is paradise," said Y/N as she stretched out on her sun lounger. The sun was shining, palm trees providing the only shade for miles.

The pool in front of her was crystal clear. In said pool was her boyfriend, swimming from one side to the other with an inflatable dolphin. Y/N watched him through her sunglasses, a McLaren hat on her head.

Summer break was something Y/N took very seriously. Her studies were finally done and Oscar was finally on summer break from the season.

Of course, Oscar had to take his girl on holiday. They flew to the Caribbean, to a private villa they'd rented for the next week and a half. From there it was sun, sand, blue skies and crystal clear water.

Getting out of the pool, Oscar threw himself down onto the sunbed beside Y/N. "Happy?" He asked, reaching out and placing his hand on her knee.

His fingers were cold, but it was welcome under the Caribbean sun. Y/N placed her hand on top of his and nodded her head. "This is amazing, Oscar Pastry," she said, turning towards him.

Oscar had this way of smiling. It made Y/N's heart beat fast and the blood rush to her cheeks. "I love you," she said, reaching up to push her fingers through his hair. "My Oscar Pastry."

"Your Oscar Pastry."

The trip was commemorated with a post on Y/N's Instagram.

y/nusername:

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiatri and 238,557 others

ynusername Oscar 🥐

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1

[steddieas-shegoes]

it's not ever what it looks like

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'

rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal

💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.

Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.

But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.

Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.

But not daily for over a week.

He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.

And now this article.

There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.

The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?

Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.

Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.

It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.

Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.

He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.

All of them had said mostly the same things:

I can't get ahold of Eddie.

He wouldn't do this.

Something else is going on.

Call me when you can.

The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.

He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.

Steve called Gareth.

"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."

"What's going on?"

Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"

"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."

"Steve-"

"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"

"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"

"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."

Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.

He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.

Until now.

It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.

No time to wallow.

He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.

"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."

"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.

She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"

"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.

"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."

"Nothing happened!"

"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"

Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.

Steve nodded once.

Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."

"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.

She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.

His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.

Eddie walked through his door.

He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.

"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.

"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."

The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.

He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.

The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.

He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.

He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.

"I needed to explain-"

"Right."

"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."

Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.

"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."

Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.

He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.

"No, Steve, you don't understand."

"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."

Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.

Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.

Many of them from Eddie himself.

"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.

So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.

But then he started playing the voicemails.

"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."

"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."

"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."

"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."

Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.

"Well?" He asked, broken.

"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.

"Great for him."

"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."

At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.

But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.

"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.

"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."

Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.

But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.

Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.

Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.

He just needed to feel him.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”

“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”

Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.

“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”

“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”

“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”

“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”

“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”

Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”

“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”

“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.

Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”

“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.

That bastard.

“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”

“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.

“What?”

“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.

“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”

Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”

“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."

Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."

"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"

"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."

"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."

"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."

"So you're not saying no?"

"Why would I say no?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."

"You're ridiculous."

"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.

"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.

"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."

"I'm not doing that."

"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."

"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."

"The sooner the better, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is saying you're sorry #angst with a happy ending #established relationship #hurt/comfort #rock star eddie munson #teacher steve harrington #arguing #modern au #marriage proposals

[strangersteddierthings]

Bad News First, Eddie

Part One 🦇 Part Two🦇Part Three🦇FInal Part

"Bad news first, Eddie," Steve sighs as he leans back on his heels, cleaner in one hand and a rag in the other. "They vandalized your headstone again. Good news, I beat Wayne out here so he won't be seeing it."

It's been over a year since they'd had to leave Eddie behind. He'd been cleared of the murders. That had been the easy part, since the Upside Down had exploded out into the Rightside Up. When Vecna started killing people it had been pretty easy for people to realize Eddie was just another victim.

Or so Steve had thought.

Eleven saved them all, the people of Hawkins knew the truth, yet Steve still found graffiti on Eddie's grave.

Eddie's grave is empty, because Eddie's body hadn't been recovered. Too much had happened, no time to mount an expedition to retrieve it, and the gates were closed. Another regret Steve lives with.

Like not taking Eddie's face between his hands and looking him dead in the eye when he told them not to be heroes.

Late at night, Steve sometimes imagines he did just that. Looked him dead in the eyes and said, "there is no shame in running, in living to see another day. Don't be a hero because I need you to be okay tomorrow."

Robin says it's not good for his mental health, these what-if scenarios, but so what?

Steve isn't sure what started it but coming out here to talk to Eddie seems to help him clear his thoughts. He always starts with the bad news, Eddie's voice in the back of his mind. Bad news first, always.

The first time Wayne had caught him out here, Wayne thought he was vandalizing. Had scared Steve half to death being yanked back violently by his upper arm. It didn't take Wayne long for his eyes to process that Steve wasn't holding paint.

"You know my boy?" Wayne always spoke in the present tense about Eddie.

"Not as well as I would have liked, sir," Steve swallowed thickly. It was the start of a friendship, of sorts. Wayne seemed happy to have someone to tell stories about Eddie to, and Steve was happy to learn about Eddie.

Months pass and Steve goes every week.

"Bad news. The new guitarist is mediocre at best. Good news. Corroded Coffin lives on and they finally got a new guitarist."

"Bad news. Robin will not shut up about Vickie. Good news. Robin got that date she wanted."

"Bad news. Wayne had an accident at the plant. Good news, he's okay. I think... this might be weird to you, but I've convinced him to move in, at least until he's healed fully so he's not alone. He's staying in the downstairs guest room. Not that you know where that is. You've never even been to my house... bad news, you've never been to my house. Good news, I really wish you had."

So it goes. Wayne Munson moves in and never moves out. Steve's parents call once, to ask if he wants the house. Steve says yes.

Shortly after, Robin takes a room upstairs. Says she gonna take a year off school before college. The Party moves their dnd games to Steve's giant dining room table. His house is always full but part of Steve feels empty.

"B-bad news," Steve forces the words out around the lump in his throat, "I found out too late. Good news, I'm bisexual. Bad news, good news? I don't know man, the news is I could have loved you. I think I do, but that's the you Wayne and the kids tell me about, so who is to say really."

So it goes.

"Bad news. They're seniors this year, Eds. Seniors! Robin going away to college was bad enough. I don't know if I'll even know how to function when they do. 'Cause they're gonna, you know? They're smart. Too smart to stay in this town," Steve is crying, can feel the tears falling, but doesn't stop them. "I know I should go, too. Somewhere else. Anywhere else. But I can't leave. Wayne's here. You're here. And if I go, who will look after either of you?"

"Bad news. College acceptance letters have come in. They're not even graduated yet. This should be good news, but, heh, friends don't lie."

"Bad news, Eds. I can't remember your voice. I didn't think.... I feel like I remember it but I can't hear it. I want to hear it. I-i need-" Steve doesn't know what he needs, doesn't know how to end that sentence so he just sobs, fingers burying themselves into the dirt of an empty grave.

Wayne gets a phone call one day and says he's gotta go back to Tennessee. Eddie's father -that rocks Steve because while he knows Wayne was Eddie's uncle, he never connected that a father was somewhere out there- Eddie's father, Wayne's younger brother, needs him.

Steve drives Wayne to the airport in Indianapolis. Wayne promises he'll return but Steve won't hold him to that. This is family, and as much as Steve pretends, he isn't Wayne's nephew. Isn't Wayne's family.

As Wayne disappears onto his flight, Steve is left hollow. There's no one left in Hawkins that needs him.

"Bad news, Eds. I think I'm a danger to myself. I keep having these thoughts... like how easy it would be to drive my car into the quarry. Or just slip into the pool and take a deep breath. I don't know who I am, or how to be me, without someone needing me."

Wayne calls and tells him he's coming home. Bringing a guest if that's ok. Steve says okay because he needs to meet the man who taught Eddie how to hot wire a car but not play catch. Also, he hopes to hear Eddie in his voice when they speak.

"Bad news, Eds. I'm too much of a coward to meet your old man. Afraid of what he'll sound like. Because I want him to sound like you so fucking bad it hurts. So instead of being home, I'm hiding here."

And then, a miracle happens.

"Well, I've some bad news for you, too, Stevie. I got my voice from my mom."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #ficlet #wrote this on my lunch break and thought i would share #angst with a happy ending #like I'm gonna let this end sad #might write Eddie's side of this sometime #not edited #my fic

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Love At First Sight- Jake Seresin

Contains: A little bit of weight/body insecurity from reader, shy/coward jake, just as shy reader, fluff

Description: Jake's been acting a little differently cause he's taken an interest in you and doesn't want you to think he's a jerk. All the while he's too nervous to make a move.

Word Count: 1.4k

___________________________________

Jake didn't know what had come over him so hard that the confident man he was just weeks ago, had been replaced with a coward. He noticed it. His teammates noticed it. Even the bar regulars noticed that suddenly one of the cockiest, loudest, most outgoing men in San Diego had turned into a borderline hermit.

His regular game of darts with Javy had become a once in a blue moon activity. His teasing of Bradley, Bob and Nat ceased the moment they were finished work for the day. Even the usual 6 or 7 beers he'd pound down after a long day had reduced to 2 or 3 at the most.

He had an instinct of knowing when someone was looking at him, like his teammates and would meet their eyes with nothing but a bored stare before they'd look away not wanting to be bummed out by his mood. If only they knew that wasn't how he was feeling at all.

Even tonight, as Jake sits in a corner booth at the Hard Deck, his beer turning warm in his hand, his mouth and the rapid thud of his heart almost betray his exterior as he stares at you across the bar. You're talking to Penny, the easy smile on your face enough to make the corner of his lips twitch as he sits still, imagining all the things he'd say to you if he only had the courage to get off his ass.

Then he feels eyes on him and looks away, shooting a hard look in Javy and Reuben's direction. They both whirl around, turning their backs to him and then he's back to looking at you.

"He looking again?" Penny mumbles, leaning over the bar and grinning up at you. You've been caught glancing around the room again as to not make it obvious you were staring right back at the handsome blond.

"Mmm" You hum, biting on the inside of your cheek to try and stop yourself from grinning like a fool. You glance around again, eyes moving swiftly over him and onto the next person despite the desperate yearning in your chest, begging you to look at him again.

"I don't know why you don't just go and talk to him" Penny leans forward, lowering her tone so that there isn't a chance another guy in uniform hears the exchange. You whine, bouncing your foot like you were trying to get rid of a cramp.

"Have you met me? I'll take two steps and sweat my face off" You've never been overly confident and you had High School to thank for it. It didn't matter that it's been a decade since you graduated, growing up an overweight girl and not dropping the weight until you were in your 20's made you overly receptive to judgement.

You felt better now, more confident and happier, but because you didn't get to experience that bittersweet 'teenage love', you weren't really sure how dates and interest in people being reciprocated worked. Slowly losing weight late when everyone was getting boyfriends, or pregnant or even married didn't help either.

You'd noticed guys flocking to your pretty, skinny friends on nights out, and despite how beautiful your friends promised you were, your weight was the first thing they saw. If you smiled their way you were just the sweet, chubby girl that looked like she'd drank a whole bar empty and didn't know what was in and out of her league.

You'd never really had experience talking to guys, your Dad and brother not included, so the fact a ridiculously handsome man in uniform, that you're sure never would've spared you a glance when you were bigger, had been staring at you for weeks now, made you beyond nervous to make eye contact with him, let alone talk to him like Penny has tried to convince you to do for a while now.

"Well hey, if he doesn't love your nervous sweats then he doesn't deserve you" Penny tried to make you feel better, squeezing your arm before standing back up straight to fix a couple orders from some guys at the end of the bar. Your smile slowly falls from your face and internally you curse at yourself for not having the courage to even just go and say hi.

What you don't realise is Jake's doing the same, beating himself up for becoming so darn weak that he can't stand up, take a deep breath and walk over to you. Flying planes and risking his life were easy, but talking to a pretty woman he's been coming to the Hard Deck every day for 3 weeks purely with hopes of even just seeing? He felt like he couldn't breathe.

But then he watches your exchange with Penny, his heart beating twice as hard when for the first time in 3 weeks he watches the smile he's come to adore slowly fade from your face when Penny turns her back to you. He notices your heavy exhale and the drop of your shoulders. He notices you running the tip of your index finger around the rim of the glass in your hand that you're yet to take a sip of. He notices the slight crease of your eyebrows when you gnaw on your lip, and suddenly... he's never wanted to lift someone's mood so desperately before.

He doesn't give himself even a second to talk himself out of making his way to you, the need to see your smile again all too consuming.

Whatever's on your mind has your full attention, that even when the guy you've been watching for the last 3 weeks sits down on the stool beside you, his knee grazing yours, you fail to notice and keep tracing your finger around the rim of your glass.

Jake didn't know what the hell to say that didn't make him come across as an obsessed stalker, so he tried a humorous take instead. "You know, I almost wore that exact same top today. How embarrassing would that have been if we matched?"

His voice floats right into your ear and you turn your head, sucking in a sharp breath when you realise the person that's just spoken to you, is the same person you're making yourself insecure over. You open your mouth like a goldfish, not knowing what to say as you're still trying to process the fact he's finally spoken to you, before closing your mouth again.

You look down at the obviously very feminine top you paired with plain jeans, and finally his words sink in. Your lips curve up and the moment of internal terror Jake had as you stared at him in silence, washed away.

"Only embarrassing if you pulled it off better than me" Jake's mouth pulls up into an easy smile as he stares right back at you, both completely oblivious to the group of pilots watching the exchange in surprise.

"I find it hard to believe anyone could" The flirtation rolls of Jake's tongue and he can't help grin at the sight of your cheeks flushing as you turn your head away from him slightly, looking ahead. Jake's eyes bounce over your features up close and he wonders how somebody could look so beautiful from afar, and even more mesmerising up close. He regret's not talking to you the second he saw you.

"I'm Jake" He blurts the words, almost like he can't contain them any more. The longer he goes without properly introducing himself and learning your name, the more desperate he becomes to know anything and everything about you. You look back and his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips as they curve up in the most beautifully natural smile.

Sure, he's wanted to kiss you since the moment he spotted you, but right now, as he stares at your mouth and the faint dimple poking at your cheeks, he's never been more content seeing another person happy in his life.

"Y/n" You reply softly and immediately your name is carved and filled with pure liquid gold, in Jake's heart. His heart beats to the letters of your name in morse code. His eyes fill with so much hope as he stares at you, like finding out your name is the greatest gift he could've ever gotten.

And as you stare right back at him, he wonders if telling you he's in love with you before even the suggestion of a first date is too soon.

________________________________________

My first Top Gun: Maverick short. Hope it was okay <3

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman top gun #top gun hangman #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #hangman fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine

[chimielie]

girlfriend

summary: Iwaizumi x F!Reader. you might be his girlfriend—but she's his girl.

word count: 2.4k

cw: hurt/comfort. a lot of reader insecurity. fear/mention of emotional cheating but there is none

a/n: this actually fills @akimind's request for my 500 follower event one million years ago but the formatting is tooo hard so. here it is!!! iwaizumi + angst + college au + "that's not what i said." LOVE YOU SORRY HOPE IT HURTS AND IS ALSO ENJOYABLE. <<<<3333333

You didn't mean to fall in love with your boyfriend.

You hadn't gone into this expecting Hajime to become your boyfriend at all, actually. You liked him. Liked how easy it was to be with him. How warm he was when you let your touch linger on him and pretended it was more than a flirty friendship. You hadn't ever predicted it would become so, because Hajime was hung up on his ex-girlfriend.

They'd traveled over oceans to be together, coming to Irvine from the same prefecture in Japan. They had still been together when you met him, her head tucked beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around her waist. Your first thought was "oh, he's beautiful." Your second thought was "they look like they're made for each other." You shoved the first thought deep inside a secret crevice of your brain and stuck out your hand to introduce yourself with a bright smile.

The strain of new adulthood got to them, though, or so you assumed: you were never privy to the gory details of the breakup. They remained friendly, in the same friend group, and it just always seemed obvious to you that they would someday reconcile. It wasn't until two years after their break that you were able to start showing regular, platonic affection to Hajime without feeling like an attempted homewrecker.

It was just before graduation, having dragged him away for a late-night bite to eat so neither of you would starve to death studying for finals, when everything flipped on its head. Your plan to energize the both of you had backfired; you were yawning every other sentence and came close to laying your head on the table before Hajime put his palm down in front of your face.

"Come sit next to me," he'd said, so you maneuvered around into his side of the booth and been promptly pulled into his side. You had looked up at him, murmuring a sleepy question that was more wordless noise than actual English, and that was it. Something you didn't understand softened his gaze, and then he tilted his head to the side and brushed his lips over yours.

It was a perfect first kiss.

In the weeks following it, you had bounced violently between insisting to yourself that he hadn't meant for you to read too far into the kiss and your natural instinct to go after what your heart wanted. And the more he proved that it wasn't a one-off anomaly, that he could kiss you right out of drought into a superbloom, the more you were convinced. Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart.

When Hajime asked you to be official, wildflower bouquet in hand, the lights of the now-empty graduation pavilion shining down on the both of you, you said yes, your whole heart and none of your brain in the matter.

As you entered your apartment hand-in-hand with him, greeting all the friends who had gathered there to celebrate the end of undergraduate school, you remembered that the key modifier in "Iwaizumi Hajime wouldn't knowingly break your heart" was knowingly. He seemed happy enough announcing the development to everyone else, and then she had walked in, carrying a bottle of wine that almost slipped from her grasp when she saw your proximity. He had dropped your hand—just for a second, but it had happened, and then picked it back up like his sentence hadn't died in his mouth at the sight of her.

He'd always gotten a little defensive when people mentioned their relationship, his features shutting down into a blank, tight expression. Though they obviously weren't as close as they had been for most of their lives, they were still both part of your friend group, and he always seemed to laugh just a little harder at her jokes, kept eye contact a little longer, got embarrassed more easily around her. You didn't want to be jealous or insecure or possessive, but it just felt more increasingly obvious that you were a rebound, a cheap, temporary dupe meant to fill in until Hajime realized and returned to the love of his life.

It was hard to be angry at him, though, because you knew with every fiber of your bleeding heart that he wouldn't do this to you on purpose. You knew he thought he cared for you, that he thought he had moved on. He did a good job almost every day coming very close to persuading you of it, enough to keep you from breaking up with him and leaving him behind, but never quite erasing your insecurities for more than a few weeks at a time.

One of the first mornings you woke up in his bed, well rested and sore in all the right places, he was missing. You got up, mourning the softness of his sheets and the scent of him on the pillowcases, and slipped into one of his shirts before leaving his room to explore.

He was cooking, shirtless in the kitchen, and if that wasn't one of the yummiest things you had seen in your life.

"Good morning," you said, leaning against his counter.

"Very," he returned, flipping an egg in the pan. "Looking like that. I think—I mean, it seems like that shirt always gets chosen to be the boyfriend shirt." He had narrowly avoided saying her name, but you had heard it threatening to tumble out of his mouth. You bit back a response, but your smile still dropped, and he spent the next hour making allusive, sorry overtures without either of you actually acknowledging the slip.

You never wore that shirt again. He gave you another one, you accepted it, and life moved on.

Except you had somehow become mired in the past with a relationship that was long over, and without university or a job to distract you—you were starting at the end of September, which felt aeons away—it was eating you alive, especially as Hajime left for a preliminary return trip to Japan.

"Did you hear how Mattsun and Makki greeted him when he landed?" You sit in the car on the way to the airport, packed in with Hajime's ex, successfully hyping yourself up to see him again until she addressed the group.

"Oh, yeah," you laugh. "So funny." You haven't had a conversation with Hajime that had more depth than "how are u? miss u" for the trip's duration. She's your friend, too, though you've never been close, but there's something unbearable about admitting it to her now, when you're so unsure of your relationship's current status. It has to mean something that he was keeping her updated and active in his life, didn't it?

You find solace in knowing that you don't blame her at all. If you could find an ounce of resentment for her in your heart, you would probably have left Hajime by now—isn't that the mark of a truly evil plot-pushing girlfriend?

You cry when you see him again.

"Happy tears," you assure him, and hide your face in his shoulder.

Later, alone in his apartment, you bite your lip when Hajime asks if you want to sleep over.

"Okay, babe, I don't want to pressure you," he says, and you can feel yourself tensing up as he speaks. "But I feel like you've been—off all day. Is everything okay?"

You blanch and focus on the cowlick on the right side of his head, the one that's endeared him so much to you, so you don't have to look him in the eyes. Too much is bubbling up in your throat, your brain thrown into overdrive, and he's staring at you with so much worry in his eyes it's just not right to leave him hanging:

"No."

Hajime makes a noise you don't understand, low in his throat. "Is it because I didn't call enough while I was gone? Because I can explain that, I promise."

"No," you rush to explain. "I don't—it wasn't you, exactly. I've just—ever since we started dating—I think you still love her."

You're picking at your nails, a bad habit you've had since you were small, and he takes your hands in his, smooths his thumbs over the torn cuticles.

"I don't," he says, finally, neutrally, though his face hasn't formed into the cold mask you're used to seeing when she's brought up. "Ever since we started dating?"

"Before," you admit. "I always thought you would get back together. You just seemed so made for each other."

"But we weren't," a little pucker between his eyebrows forms. "So—what did you think when we started dating?"

"When you first kissed me," you say, "I thought maybe it was a one-off. That you wanted something casual. And then it got more serious, and I thought maybe I could just suppress my insecurities until they went away, and I mean, I really thought you liked me."

"I do," his voice grows more agitated, his lips thinning out.

"Yeah, but..." You trail off. "You would do things that made me think, oh, he's just the perfect guy, they just looked so amazing because I was jealous, and then every so often I'd see you interact with her and it wasn't like how we are at all. I know the insecurity is my own fault, that's not on you, but I feel like it's holding both of us back."

"What do you mean holding us back? You don't think you make me happy?" He snaps, and you wince.

"Not like you are with her! Every time she comes in the room you get this look on your face, like you're speechless. Like-like the songs, Haji, I just..."

He lets go of your hands, crosses his arms.

"Do you really think I'd do that to you?"

"No, Haji, I know you'd never cheat. That's why I fell in love with you! You're a good guy, but I don't want you to wake up one day and break both our hearts because she's meant to be your girl and I'm just your fucking girlfriend." Your eyes sting, your chest heaving by the end of the sentence.

"You love me?" He's quieter now, giving you a little more space to breathe.

"What? That's not what I said."

"Yes, it is," he says, a little smile growing at the corners of his mouth, as though he can't control it. "You love me."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand why you're focusing on that," you wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "It's true, I just don't get it."

"Because you make me happier than she ever did," he promises, crowding you up against the counter and motioning for you to jump up to sit on top of it after you can go no further. "I'm weird when she's around because she's my ex, sure, but not because I still want her. It... ended badly. It's a miracle we didn't pull the entire friend group into it, and I never wanted to make her look bad to them, so I'm always trying really hard to look, uh, normal around her. We're on better terms now, but I haven't wanted her in years, honey."

"She knew about what you were doing when I didn't," you mumble, feeling small in the stormy release of emotions. "And she knows so much about you I don't in general."

"We grew up together," Hajime reminds you. "It would have been one of the guys. I know I didn't tell her anything. You can check my call history, my texts."

You shake your head. "I believe you."

"Really?" He arches a brow, and you laugh and push gently at his shoulder.

"Yes, really."

"You know how long I had a crush on you before I did anything about it? I thought you weren't interested, and then you finally started being even more affectionate with me than you were with our other friends, and I took the chance."

"Rookie numbers," you preen under his gaze. "I liked you... pretty much as soon as I met you. But I suppressed it 'cause I didn't want to be a homewrecker."

"You're sweet," he chuckles. "I promise, you have nothing to worry about there. I'm never gonna wake up and not be grateful to see you drooling on my bed."

"You're the worst, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah," he looks at you fondly, swiping his thumbs under your lower lashes. "You love me, though."

"Oh," your lips part. "And the not calling in Japan?"

He scrunches his nose. "I was trying not to spoil anything. I wanted to, uh, discuss it with you first, but you should know my friends and family are all waiting to embarrass me if I have to turn everything around now."

"Okay? I'll consider your dignity, but I make no promises," you tease. He drops his head to your shoulder for a moment, taking a deep breath, and you wind a hand into his hair, petting him until he straightens.

"So, you know how I have that paid internship opportunity back home?" You nod, not wanting to be reminded. You'll do it for him, but... long distance sucks. "I went to their office and turned it down. I want to go through with my doctorate."

"Oh, that's huge!" You gasp. "That's incredible, I'm so happy for you!"

"So the part that has to do with you is, um," he says, "you're planning to stay here, right?"

"Yeah," you say, "my next step is like a twenty minute commute, thankfully."

"I want to finish my schooling in the States," he tells you, "and then after that, I want to go wherever you go."

"Hajime," you start, but he puts a shaking hand on your knee, and that shuts you up.

"I love you," he says seriously. "It's like I said, okay? You make me happier than anyone else. I know you're the one for me, if you'll have me. If not, I get—"

You grab his face and smash your lips into his, and if that doesn't get the message across? You don't know what will.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi x reader angst #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader fluff #iwaizumi hajime x reader angst #iwaizumi x reader angst to fluff #haikyuu hurt/comfort

[lovelytsunoda]

nation of two // oscar piastri

summary: a camping trip in perth, and a set of missing sleeping bags brings together a pair of childhood friends in a way neither of them had quite anticipated

pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

warnings: lando being a little shit, wee lil' age gap (reader is a year and a half older than oscar is), general outdoorsy activities, forced teambuilding. for all intents and purposes, this is in the very beginning of lando and oscar's time as teammates and they don't know each other well yet.

authors note: I was so tempted to make this a fic for a different fandom but knew y’all would hate me if I started dropping top gun fics out of nowhere instead of the f1 goodness you’ve come to expect, and then this prompt was just so perfect for oscar and now here we are

the australian sun beat down as she trekked up the rocky hiking trail, rugged outdoor shoes digging into the dirt and mud beneath her feet. sweat soaked through the back of her concert shirt, her black bucket hat concentrating all of the sun's rays on her scalp.

"jesus, piastri! how much further?" she whined, taking oscar's outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her up the trail.

oscar laughed, looking over and grinning at how ridiculous she looked with her massive backpack and sweat stained shirt, the hot pink of her sports bra showing through the white fabric underneath the words 'duran duran'.

"don't be such a baby!"

"i'm older than you!" she shreiked, feeling the burn in her legs as she rested her weight on the younger boy. "carry me the rest of the way?"

"no! you have to get to the lookout yourself."

she groaned, rolling her eyes. "then where are lando and will? i'll sit in the damn wagon if i have to. how are you not winded?"

she hadnt planned to even be here. oscar had phoned her late the night before, asking if she would be up for a hike. she'd agreed, searching for a reason to get out of the house. it wasnt like she had anything better to do.

she'd known oscar all her life. in elementray school, they waited for the big yellow bus at the same stop, and were in the same homeroom for most of secondary school with oscar taking advanced classes for his age and y/n sinking down a level in maths, despite oscar's many absences. their mothers were in the same knitting club, and many a night teenage oscar would apologetically come to her house and collect his wine-drunk mother from the knitting circle. (despite it all, she loved nicole. how could she not, the woman was an icon)

"because i'm an athlete and you're out of shape?" oscar guessed jokingly, prodding at the cute pudge of her stomach.

the action gave her butterflies, a feeling in her stomach that wasn't welcome when thinking about the younger man she was leaning against.

they'd always been friendly. too friendly, some may say, eyebrows raising when people heard about the age gap. what did a sophisticated older woman want with oscar piastri?

it was simple: she liked stupid men with hearts of gold. and so far, nobody had compared to the 21-year-old. she was 22, so the gap wasn't even that bad.

and oscar didn't really think she was out of shape. he might joke, but that small bit of pudge on her stomach was so adorable, like a kangaroo pouch in his head, and he dreamed about the day he could cuddle up behind her and wrap his arms around it, skin to skin between cotton sheets.

"shut up." she whined, relieved that the group had finally stopped. she flung down her badly-packed and underprepared rucksack and slumped against it, pulling her hat over her eyes. it was getting cooler, though still humid, as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

"i think it's time we think about making camp." mark webber suggested, stretching out his old man limbs, tapping the giant stick he held as a walking aid against a rock. "this is as good a spot as any. lando, do you have the sleeping bags?"

"do i have the sleeping bags?" lando repeated jokingly. "what kind of muppet do you think that i am? of course will and i have the sleeping bags!"

the mclaren driver sidestepped towards the wooden wagon, dramatically ripping back the tarp on top to reveal the cardboard tent box (which had been duct taped back together so many times that it was more tape than cardboard) and the clusters of rolled up sleeping bags.

one by one, lando and will started tossing the bags at the hikers. in almost no time at all, everybody had a sleeping bag.

well, everybody except y/n.

"oi, orlando, what the fuck!" she shouted, deliberately getting his name wrong. "where's my stuff?"

not looking sorry at all, lando shrugged his shoulders, eyes hidden underneath the brim of his bucket hat. "i guess i miscounted."

"you didn't miscount shit." she glared at him, using both of her hands to flash the man her middle fingers.

lando stifled a laugh, looking over at oscar. "are you sure she's the older one?"

"lando, shove off." oscar defended before turning to her. "my sleeping bag is a double, we'll be just fine. as long as lando hasn't lost the second tent."

y/n chuckled darkly, using the rock behind her to push herself to her feet. "the tent is in my rucksack. there's no way in hell that i'm sleeping on the dirt floor."

"princess." lando coughed into his fist, hoping that neither oscar or y/n noticed.

see, lando norris had a plan. a plan that was formed out of one too many rom com nights with his girlfriend, and an impatience born from watching y/n and oscar run circles around each other like horny dogs too nervous to get to humping.

the way lando saw it, hiding the sleeping bag was just going to help that along.

"anyways, im heading out." y/n sighed, getting to her feet and brushing the leaves and twigs off her thighs. "you freaks better not follow me into the woods and watch me piss."

oscar watched her leave with a dreamy expression as she pushed branches out of the way, stumbling over tree roots and branches. he saw her loose her footing in the mud , scraping the side of her knee on the tree bark.

"you okay?" oscar shouted, ready to jump into the woods after her.

"i'm fine!"

when she came back from the woods, legs slightly scratched up from the way she stumbled, hat dangling from the chinstrap around her neck and her sweat-matted hair falling down her shoulders. oscar was setting up the tent, shirtless as he hammered the tent stakes in place. all in all, the tent was fairly well constructed considering that oscar had done it all himself.

"so, your new teammate is a jackass." she laughed. "who suggested this trip?"

"i did. against my better judgment." oscar rolled his eyes, straightening up at dusting off his hands before peeling back the zipper door to the orange tent. "welcome to my humble abode. ladies first, your highness."

"oh, shut up." she laughed, her face turning pink as she ducked into the tent.

it was a large space, backlit by the battery powered lantern from oscar's rucksack. the soft yellow lighting made their shadows dance as she sat down on the double sized sleeping bag, unsure of what to do next.

they hadn't shared a bed since they were sixteen years old on a joint family trip to fiji and they had been so drunk that they fell asleep together on a sun lounger.

it's okay. you can do this.

"can i have the right side?" she asked timidly as oscar followed her in, zipping up the door behind him.

"knock yourself out." oscar said, avoiding eye contact as he reached into his backpack and passing her a bag of cheetos.

the proximity and the rising heat in the tent was starting to make him uncomfortable. no doubt he was also thinking about the sun lounger.

"i'm glad that you came. i missed spending time with you, y/n."

she laughed, popping the bag open and cursing when she spilled orange cheese dust on her leg. "me too. i've been at a loss lately. a crossroads, if you will. this is exactly what i needed to get out of my head."

"remember what mark said? leave your problems at the bottom of the mountain!" oscar laughed. "just put one foot in front of you and keep moving.''

she grinned, popping a crispy cheeto into her mouth. "easier said than done when thinking about the future paralyzes you."

oscar moved his body along the sleeping bag so that he was sitting directly next to her, his thigh touching hers. the sleeping bag took up most of the floor space, neither of them wanting to lean back, lest they cause the whole tent to topple over.

the feeling of his skin against hers made the hair on her arms stand up, goosebumps following in its wake.

"you'll figure it out. i know you will. have some faith in yourself."

the way the led lantern highlighted every pore, every contour of his skin should have been reserved for the film crew on fifty shades of grey. he looked so breathtaking in the dark that it had just that effect: taking all of her breath away. she felt like she'd been hit in the lungs, unable to think about anything except the greek god in front of her.

and she was going to have cheeto breath when she kissed him.

outside the tent, their silhouettes danced in the half light as she leaned towards him, lips moving to whisper something inaudible but that the aussie seemed to understand instantly, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.

and when oscar kissed her? she forgot all her worries, this airy feeling spreading throughout her body. the skin around their lips would be stained from the cheetos, as would the sleeping bag where the bag toppled over, but neither of them could find it in them to care, too lost in the others touch as oscar's calloused fingers ran up her t-shirt, gently squeezing the part of her stomach that made her the most self-conscious,

"you're beautiful. and smart. and brilliant. and i'm sorry that nobody has ever told you that." he whispered in his kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth. he growled at the taste of cheetos, something that was suddenly so much sexier than he had ever believed it could be.

"shut up." she blushed, kissing him again.

outside the tent, lando and will sat by a crackling fire, watching the embers rise in the air and wondering if the pair knew that the lantern allowed them to see everything through the tent walls.

"i knew he had it in him." lando laughed. "look at the little guy go."

"should we tell him about the lantern?" will chuckled, popping a marshmallow into his mouth.

"nah. they'll figure it out in a minute when we all start wolf whistling."

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @sidcrosbyspuck @twinkodium @thatsdemko @userlando @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @lorarri

#oscar piastri x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #f1 x y/n

[shdysders]

dorothea

pairing: jenna ortega & female reader

summary: in which jenna left her small town to chase down hollywood dreams, that meant leaving you too.

word count: 1.5k

author’s note: fully based on taylor swift’s song dorothea. lmk what u think!

Growing apart.

It was like a curse.

A curse that nobody could escape or prevent from happening. It happens to the best of people. Even to people that thought they'd be friends for an infinite amount of time. 

It happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are, what you want, and everything might be different from what your best friend want to do.

Although that wasn't the case for you and Jenna.

Like two peas in a pod, that's what family and friends would use to describe your friendship. You were always together and never apart.

Sleepovers every weekend and playdates for hours on days that were free. Shared birthday parties and same celebrity crushes. Same dreams for the future and same fears of dying or aging.

It wasn't shocking, really; you and Jenna were more alike than she was with her own siblings.

You sometimes found yourself wondering if Jenna ever stopped her busy lifestyle to think about you and what you used to be.

If she ever thought about the nights were you found yourself in each others rooms, pulling all nighters and gossiping about whatever til it was almost sunrise.

Laughing until your stomach's began hurting, which always ended up with your parents telling you guys to quiet down.

Or when you guys would run down to the park and play on the swings, whenever you had spent hours listening to your mom and dad fighting, sometimes even trying to joke about the things they had yelled. Making a lark of the misery.

When you guys would write your own scripts, for the movies you guys were going to direct when growing up, where you would be the stars.

Or when you would act them out, whether it was in recess at school, or in the middle of the night.

That was all memories now, just thoughts that would eventually come back to the surface of the mind, in a faded and distant manner.

Jenna had other people to relive those memories with now. Shiny new friends that she had managed to get since she left town, the small settlement were everybody knew everyone.

Everybody knew who Jenna was in the town where you grew up, but they knew who you were too. Now everyone in the whole world knew who Jenna was, and you remained being known in a petite village, nowhere else.

The only place you would see Jenna now was at a tiny screen in a cinema hall or in vogue magazines. It was where you and her had planned to be together. Supermodels in fancy clothes, like the clothes you would steal from her older sisters.

However, you had nothing but good and well wishes for her, you truly hoped that she was living her best life, and based on the articles and headlines you saw, it looked like she was.

Just because you weren't able to get the life you wished for didn't mean she couldn't have it, she wanted it too, and she deserved it, you knew that.

The town was the same as it ever was. Nothing had changed since Jenna left for other things, which she probably would've have liked.

Jenna had always wanted to just get away.

Away from the small town where you could barely have any secrets without everybody figuring it out.

Ever since you were six years old, you and Jenna had been making up a whole plan on how everything would go down. The plan of escaping to Hollywood.

How you would make it there after hours of trains and buses, and when you would arrive, everyone would know who you were, the second you stepped a foot into the town.

And even though Jenna already got that, without having to escape in secret and without anyone knowing. You hoped she knew that it would never be too late to come back to your side. Even after the way she left you.

Although you knew she wouldn't return home, especially not since you knew how her eyes looked when she was acting back when you were younger. All filled with stars of excitement and wonder, you could remember.

You didn't see that glow in her eyes anymore, not on social media nor in articles about interviews. She looked tired, tired from being known and always being in the spotlight, tried from being known for being in contact with other famous people.

And if she ever started to doubt her current friends; unsure if they were consorting with her because of her popularity or not, either that or if she was just overly tired of them, you hoped she was aware that she would always know you, if she wanted to.

Jenna was currently one of the most known actors in the whole wide world, people talked about her everywhere. She was like a queen, part of the royal family, but the 'none regal' kind.

She was selling dreams by just signing autographs, partnering with make up brands to sell products, being in the cover of magazines of all kinds, she was selling everything. And from her you'd buy anything.

Did she ever stop and think of you?

Did she ever think about the time you skipped half of the high school prom just to piss her mom off?

You remembered that night like it was yesterday. None of you had dates for the night, and eventually you guys got bored of all the dancing and seeing couples kissing, so you ran off, making her mother go absolute insane; she was all for the proms and pageant schemes.

Jenna also loved dressing up and playing with clothes, you always used to do that when you were having play dates as kids, and embarrassingly enough it happened a few times while you were older as well.

Now Jenna was dressing up in fancy clothes for what it seemed like every week, cameras constantly flashing onto her for perfect pictures, people screaming for her attention.

Everybody wanted to be her. Everybody wanted to be Jenna Ortega.

Even your friends spoke about her and how they wanted to be a famous actor in Hollywood. However, you couldn't find yourself focusing on that.

All the thoughts that came to mind was if Jenna still had the same soul as the one you met under the bleachers.

It had been in the first day of first grade, when the teacher had been introducing the class to all of the rooms and halls.

And when it had been time for the gym area to be shown, you got scared of all the people and ran behind the bleachers to hide. By the time you'd gotten there, a brunette was already there.

She was shorter than you, her hair was the same length as yours, and eyes were darker. A friendship necklace was draped around her neck, and when you had asked her who the other half belonged to, she had replied that nobody had it, and that you could have it if you wanted to.

You would probably never find out if she was the same person with the same generous soul now, you weren't sure if she even remembered the time you first met, if she even remembered you at all.

She probably didn't remember the time you guys had your first kiss with each other. It was only practice for future reference and eventual middle school crushes, but it was still a great memory of yours.

Memories of her were something that fogged your mind at least once a week, but they probably didn't affect Jenna at all. She went on with the shows and interviews, not looking influenced at all.

But it was great. You loved watching Jenna fulfill her dreams, even though you never got a chance to be a part of them like it had been planned.

You hoped that she would eventually find her way back to you, because it would never be too late for that, although it might've felt like that some days.

Jenna was known over the whole world, but like you two had talked about in previous years, you knew the Hollywood life came with lots of stress and pressure. So you knew that was a struggle she was going through.

She would eventually grow tired of being famous, that's something you had thought multiple times, that she would eventually become tired of being known for knowing famous people. And if she ever did, you would be happy to tell her that she would always know you.

Your head would always perk up whenever Jenna's name was mentioned, you would always greet her family members if you saw them, you would think about her on her birthday, and pray that she would think of you on yours.

Jenna was still so unconditionally important to you, and you wanted nothing but the best for her.

She would always know you, if she wanted to.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader

[remuslupinslittleslut]

Hey,🪄

Can I request a poly marauders fluff one shot where the reader feels insecure about whether they still love her? The reader is jealous of the relationship between Lily and the boys and thinks that they want to date Lily instead of them; especially because the whole school keeps saying how good they would be together.

Thanks if you'll do☘️

Here you go luvvie, hope you like it!

This is Part One, Part Two Here! CW: lil angsty but happy ending :)

Sitting at your house table, you look over to your boys, normally, this would bring comfort to you but not today. Today, they're sitting in a group of four, with Lily Evans. You liked Lily, she was sweet, kind and smart, but knowing that James used to have a huge crush on her makes you feel a bit funny about their seating arrangement. He's sitting next to her, leaning closer to tell her little jokes, while Sirius and Remus sit across from them, joined in the conversation.

It would feel better if your relationship was made official to the rest of the school, but you had all agreed that you'd keep it private for a bit, keep it for yourselves.

"Aren't they just so cute", your friend says from next to you, "do you think they all have the hots for her?"

Your heart drops, they do look cute. But they look cuter with you. Sighing, you decide you're done with dinner, and excuse yourself to the library, for some late studying.

•

It doesn't get better the next day. You decided to sit with your roommate for history of magic, making Remus the odd one out, as James and Sirius sit together. Of course, Remus ends up sitting with Lily, and everytime you hear Remus' low chuckle from something she said, the clump in your throat grows bigger. Your friend makes another rude comment about Remus and Lily, making you speed out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings.

•

That same night you're sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Remus, as the other two boys have practice. Feeling that green monster everytime that full head of red hair comes around, you decide to sit closer to Remus, show everyone that he's yours, putting your legs across his knees.

"Are you okay, princess?" He mumbles, kissing your head.

"Yeah, fine", you say, not looking up from your book. He humms, not fully believing you, but deciding not to press the matter.

When the clock hits 8 pm, you know it's not long before James and Sirius come back up to the tower, and when they come back, the four of you will retreat to their dorm, and everything will be good again.

That doesn't happen, however, not really. They come back, with Marlene and the rest of their team, and they give the entire common a very intense retelling of practice. It feels good, your legs still over Remus' and James sitting on the armrest next to you, Sirius walking around the room, dramatically showing his great save, pretending to be holding his beater's bat.

It all comes to an end, when Lily tells him to shut his mouth and he quips back a "make me, Evans". Now, even Sirius is flirting with her, while you're sitting right there. Your eyes roll back far enough to see your own brain, so sick of them all liking Lily Evans more than you.

Your eyeroll, however, doesn't go unnoticed. "Guys, time to shower, come on", Remus says, tapping your thighs, showing you that you should follow.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you upset over something?" He asks as the four of you enter their dorm. You sigh, looking down. It feels silly, they shouldn't have to take care of your feelings, if they'd all rather be with Lily.

"I'm fine", you say, quietly. They share a look, before sitting you down on one of their beds, standing above you. "You're not fine, you've been avoidant with us for days, what's wrong?" "Yeah, you've gotta talk to us, we can't make it better if we don't know what we did wrong."

You sigh, again, knowing that they're right, but not really looking forward to the conversation that is to come, "do I have to be worried about Lily Evans taking my place in this relationship?" You decide to go the straightforward way, wanting to ask before they tell you, letting them know that you know that they like her.

They share another look, and then Sirius is laughing, "oh, baby, is that what's up?" You look up at him, "oh darling no, no one's ever gonna take your spot here, we love you so much-" James is interrupting him, "yeah, we don't like her, not like that, it's just nice being friends with her now that I have a girlfriend, she doesn't have to worry about me hitting on her" "Did you really think we'd like anyone but our little princess? You're our good girl, and we love you so much. And Lily knows about us, so she doesn't think anything else is going on", Remus fills in.

Oh. Oh... Lily... knows? About your relationship with the boys... Well that changes a lot of things, but you still feel the doubt in the pit of your tummy, "It just seemed like maybe you wanted to try to see someone else..."

Coming down next to you, a post-practice-sweaty James pulls you into his lap, "but baby, you're the only one we want, I'm so sorry if we haven't shown you that enough", he starts kissing all over your face making you giggle.

"Yeah, babes, you're never getting rid of us" "maybe you could let us show you how much we love you?"

They all envelope you, holding onto you, gripping you and holding you close, leaving soft kisses and whispering sweet words. You know that tomorrow you'll have to apologize to Lily for assuming the worst, but right now, you're perfectly happy just laying with your boys.

The next day, the whole castle knew about the four of you. <3

Part two here.

#amathelia writes #mywriting #fanfic #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #marauders era #request #anon #fluff #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader

[incorrectbatfam]

What Bruce and Steph headcanons do you have

Ok so Steph's not adopted but emotionally she's Bruce's daughter and they have that father-daughter dynamic where they take turns embarrassing each other

In her freshman year of college, Steph used Bette's old ID as a fake to sneak into a club where her favorite local artist was performing, and they invited her onstage to sing. Bruce turned up and dragged her home in front of a hundred people.

Also that same night, people mistook Bruce in all black for the bouncer, so before they left, he spent twenty minutes checking people's IDs.

At her first gala, Steph said "Nice wig" to a lady with an updo. It wasn't a wig. And the lady was also a very important prospective business partner.

One time Bruce misread the theater number on a movie ticket and Steph was too busy with snacks to notice, so instead of seeing the new Marvel movie, they ended up sitting through the entirety of an R-rated slasher because he didn't want to admit he fucked up and she didn't care.

When Bruce was running late to her parent-teacher conference, she told everyone he was meeting his drug dealer. He made a stop at the pharmacy.

Steph's school had a talent show that anyone could enter. So Bruce entered, performed an extended version of Bohemian Rhapsody, and won.

In the middle of a debriefing, she said, "Can we hurry this up? B said he needed to use the bat-hroom" in front of the entire Justice League.

Bruce thought he saw Steph smoking outside her school, pulled up to the curb, and told her to get in the car while all her friends were watching. It was a lollipop.

Before Bruce and Selina could go on their date, they promised Steph they'd drop her off for a sleepover at Barbara's. While in the car, she started a game of I Spy and said "I spy the Batman." Selina hadn't known Bruce's identity at that point.

Later that night, in the middle of the date, Steph called Bruce and he put her on speakerphone because he was eating, and that's how Selina and everyone else in the restaurant learned that he was wearing the same pants as the Commissioner.

#stephanie brown #spoiler #bruce wayne #batman #selina kyle #catwoman #batcat #batfamily #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batfam #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #crack #tw drug mention #long post

[kairiscorner]

omds i luvvvvvvv your writing so much 🤭🤭 could i req a earth 42 miles or a hobie brown fic where reader gets bullied for dating miles/hobie (whichever one u pick 🖤) because people think she’s “not good enough for him” because she’s like one of the quiet kids she doesn’t go to like parties and stuff like that she’s always studying and that kinda stuff and miles/hobie finds out when one of his friends confronts him ab it (you can write this however u like!!!!) and he talks w reader and stuff just a bunch of htc!! 🖤 thank you sooooo much

OH DAMN, sure thing anon !! i am just like y/n fr it's just that i don't have bitches 😭😭😭 but i hope u like this rahhh !!!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

they're more than worthy of me. – miles 42 x reader

nobody ever has a perfect life, let alone a perfect love life, but when you were with miles, everything felt just right. he loved you with a love that wasn't overbearing or possessive, he gave you your space when you needed it and supported you from the sidelines in every endeavor you dared to try. you didn't stand out much though, really, you blended in quite well into the background. you were used to not being recognized or acknowledged immediately, and you were fine with it—though you were confused why recently, a few of your classmates were acting a little mean to you.

you never harbored any ill will towards these people—as far as you were concerned, you doubt that more than half of these kids would even remember your name. every time you approached a classmate of yours for a question, they'd immediately walk away the minute you walked over to them, others would ask you in sarcastic voices if you couldn't even do something so simple with a smile that tried to get you thinking they meant no harm when in reality, they wanted you away from them. you couldn't even pretend and think that they were just busy or being realistic—that you should be able to do something as simple as the question to an activity that you were stumped on, but you couldn't—this was because a lot of those classmates of yours adored miles.

they liked miles and having his attention on them, angry if anyone else were to get his attention away from them. before you entered the picture, they were all over him—devoted and loved him like a friend, some had loved him in more than just a friendly way, but none of his friends and admirers in your class took it very kindly when they noticed you and miles getting along a bit too well back then; when you two became a thing, everything just got worse. miles still hangs out with some of these people, though he doesn't consider them his friends—tonight, he'd be attending a party of theirs with ganke, with you opting to stay behind and catch up on school works.

late at night, as you were finishing up your studying session, you got a text from miles, asking you to come down and meet him by your front door. you got up from your chair and walked down to your front door, and there he was, battered and bruised in the face—looking into your eyes with hurting in them. you asked him in worried stammers about what happened to him, who did this to him, if he was even okay. you checked his face all over, and when you saw the backs of his hands, they were reddened and scarred, you couldn't tell if the blood was his or someone else's, because you knew this was no accident that happened to him—he got into a fight, a serious one.

"miles, what happened?" you asked him in a shuddering voice, with miles bringing his red, bloody knuckled hands to your shoulders and wrapped you in his arms. he didn't answer you quite yet as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as his initial response. "how could they not accept that i love you?" he murmured as you gently placed your hands on his back, reciprocating his hug despite your confusion. "i... miles, what?" "ganke told me he heard a bunch of the guys at the party talking shit about you behind my back. i... i confronted them, asked them why they said what they said, but the last thing they wanted to do was cooperate and be honest. so i... i did some things i wasn't proud of. i'm sorry, i'm just so sick of people hurting you all for my sake–you deserve better, mi cielo..." he whispered as you pulled away from him, watching the tears form in his eyes as he frowned up at you amidst the cuts and bruises on his face.

you brought him into your house and sat him down on the couch, hurriedly getting him a first aid kit to treat his wounds. you wrapped his knuckles up in gauze, with him mindlessly following your hands with his gaze–him taking in all the gentle and softness of your touch. "i'm sorry, again, mi vida. i shouldn't... i should've handled it better." miles apologized to you again as you were tying up the gauze on his hand. "love..." you called out to him, placing your hand on top of his with concern and love filling your gaze. "i'm just glad you're alive and well. i wish you didn't have to get hurt or hurt anyone, but... i'm glad you love me enough to defend me like you did even though i wasn't there." you said in a quiet voice, smiling up at him with tears in your own eyes, matching the tears in his as he looked back at you and nodded, his lower lip quivering.

"i'd do it all again, and more, for you–mi cielo. i swear, you... you won't ever shed another tear... because of another person being an asshole to you–i can't not love you, cielo, i can't..." miles murmured with a cracking voice as he got more vulnerable. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close as he sobbed, muttering to you how he'd love you forever, that much would never change–no matter if the multiverse demanded you two cannot be, he'd make a world for just the two of you, even if everyone else would disagree.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @solecitoszn @onginlove @euphovlq @meowmoraless

#earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles morales angst #earth 42 miles morales fluff #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #miles 42 #miles 42 x reader #atsv #atsv prowler #miles morales x reader #miles morales #prowler miles #atsv miles #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #atsv angst #atsv fluff #atsv fanfiction #atsv imagines #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse

[blushweddinggowns]

"You look stupid as all hell right now."

"You look stupid as all hell right now," Mike snorted as he watched Robin touch up Steve's eyeliner, "You know that right?"

"It's called romance, you ass," Steve hissed, flipping him off while dutifully keeping his head still, "Who invited you anyway?"

"Your better half."

Steve rolled his eyes but he didn't correct him. He was right anyway, "Isn't it a school night? Are you allowed to be out this late? What would your mom think, knowing you were wasting your precious brain power on Halloween parties-"

"I'm in college you fucking dick!"

That struck a nerve. Steve smirked, good. The little shit deserved it.

"And done!" Robin announced before either of them could throw anymore insults, "I think you look good, way sexier than Tim Curry, for sure. Mike come with me to go get Nancy for a second opinion. You obviously can't be trusted."

Mike huffed, mumbling something under his breath before both of them left the room. Steve was pretty damn sure Eddie had sent him in as a spy because despite all of his reassurances, he still didn't believe that Steve was going to follow through on this stupid costume. But here he was, adjusting his fish net stockings while examining himself in the mirror.

He looked...decent. Which was better than he had been expecting. The make-up wasn't as cartoonish as the movie, something that he hoped Eddie would appreciate. In all honesty, Steve was going to take no criticisms for how he put the whole thing together, Eddie was lucky it was happening at all. Not that he would but still. Though if Steve had to guess, Eddie was going to be a fan. He better fucking be a fan, considering how he'd been asking for this forever.

They'd been together five years. Five fantastic, wonderful years. And four Halloweens with Steve laughing in his face whenever he brought up the Rocky Horror Picture show as costume inspiration. But this year...Steve didn't know. Eddie had just looked...extra desperate this time, needy in a way that Steve just couldn't say no to.

So now here he was, moments away from going downstairs to entertain all of their new and old friends for hours on end, all while wearing a corset.

The things he did for love.

"Knock, knock," Eddie's voice called from the other side of the door, like he could just smell that Steve was alone, "You decent in there Stevie?"

"Not exactly?" Steve called back, still frowning in the mirror, "But you can come in. Just lock it behind you."

Steve didn't look up when Eddie waltzed in, but he did hear his little sharp intake of breath.

"Holy shit," Eddie mumbled, bordering on a whimper as he came up behind Steve. He wrapped his arms around his waist, locking eyes with him through the mirror, "You look..."

"Stupid as hell?" Steve answered for him, smiling a little at how flushed Eddie's face already was. Damn, maybe this thing wasn't that bad after all if it could make him look like that.

Eddie shook his head, swallowing once before breathing out, "I was going to say beautiful. Gorgeous. Breath-taking. Extremely attractive-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Steve laughed, turning around in his arms. He wrapped them around Eddie's neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss, "I'm glad you like it so much. In fact, I'll even let you take it off later tonight."

Steve thought that would have been a good deal, but it made Eddie frown, "Later? But we can-"

"We can what?" Steve interrupted, "Have sex with all of our adopted children downstairs waiting for us? I don't think so."

But Eddie wasn't done begging. He was even starting to bring out the wet, puppy dog eyes, the manipulative little shit, "B-But I can be quick. I can fix your make-up after. I can-"

"Nope," Steve laughed, pulling away from him with a little smirk, "You made your bed. Now lie in it."

Eddie nearly looked like he was gonna cry, the little drama queen, "I...I didn't think this through, did I?"

Steve grinned, leaning up to kiss his cheek before going to the door. He looked back at him, his smile getting a little bigger at the desperate look on his face.

Maybe he did look like an idiot in the bizarre get-up, but Steve didn't care. Not when it had Eddie rushing to follow him out.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #silly steddie #so so silly #ask games #and ty for the ask! #I am feeling some type of way about my writing lately #Need to do something #idk what #maybe this will help #slowly making my way through~ #if you sent one it will be answered! #eventually!

[noxinara]

Obey Me! Brothers and what kind of games I think they'd play

this is a very biased list (and long post) based off of games that I've played before :) (jk its really not biased, just games I think they would play!) I made this because I couldn't sleep last night and had brain worms-- Will probably make one for the dateables sometime soon, but this list is just the brothers!

Lucifer

Traditional Board Games.

There have been MANY times where he's been playing various board games with you, Diavolo, and Simeon.

Gets VERY competitive over games like Sorry!, Monopoly, Trouble.... Candy Land???

Will only let Diavolo win.

Shows no mercy to anyone else, including you. Sorry, love.

Card Games.

Particularly amazing at Poker. He would not let Mammon know this... until you guys have an in-house Poker night and he literally takes all??? Has the best poker face you've ever seen.

Won't even let you guys beat him at Uno or Go Fish. Boooooooo.

Puzzle Games.

I could see Luci being very good at Tetris for some reason?

One time Levi challenged him to the game to try and get out of going to RAD one day...

Let's just say he had to go to RAD that day and also had to stay over on cleaning duty. Courtesy of getting absolutely DESTROYED.

Controversial Pick: Rhythm Games.

I could 100000% see Luci tearing up some OSU! But only when all of the brothers are asleep and he's completed most of his work.

They help him unwind.

...Was that rhythmic tapping you heard when walking by his office late one night..? Interesting.

You saw him wearing Levi's VR headset playing Beat Saber one day.

No, you will NOT bring it up and you will NOT let him know of that video you took.

Oh. You posted it on Fab Snap?

Good luck. You're gonna need it.

Mammon

Gambling Games/Apps.

Where I live you can just gamble from home because it's legal to have and play gambling apps?

He would have SO many on his D.D.D. They're taking up so much of his storage space.

Plays them a lot when you're around because he thinks that you're his good luck charm.

He also goes on a lot of Horse Racing and Sports Betting sites...

It got so bad that Lucifer had to figure out how to IP block him from these. it doesn't stop him--

Gacha Games.

Has absolutely insane luck for some reason??? Only on gacha games, tho.

Has definitely played Genshin Impact and Honkai Starrail because of Levi.

He got those 5 star and Ultra Rare pulls he wanted in his first 1-10 pulls? But you? It took you over 100 pulls to get what you wanted. WTF?????

You swear he must be cheating the system somehow. There is NO WAY.

Racing Games.

Particularly the ones that you can have a full racing setup for.

He's splurged thousands of Grimm on this.

Gran Turismo? Forza? F1? iRacing? He has them all.

He is VERY picky about who he lets touch his decked out setup... He'll let you use it any time you want, though. :) You're his treasure, ofc

Controversial Pick: Old School MMOs

Definitely played Old School RuneScape or Black Desert Online or Classic WoW and created gold farming empires.

Doesn't even do end game content, he's just a guild leader making bank off the work of his members.

He probably hosts fun events though.

Would definitely be the kind of guy that makes up scavenger hunts/fashion shows/trivia nights/etc. and gives out sick prizes...

Might also rig these to make sure you or his officers win the best prizes. How sweet.

Leviathan

He is literally THE gamer.

There probably isn't a single genre of game he hasn't played.

His favorite games are definitely MMORPGs and Visual Novels/Dating Sims/Bishojos/Gal games.

Could see him as a raid lead in all of the biggest MMOs like WoW, FFXIV and GW2.

He also 100% visits the degenerate RP server places like Moon Guard's Goldshire and Balmung's Quicksand.

He's definitely not a BLUSHING MESS and rushing to close his game if you catch him in one of these places!!! He would never go there!!! Oh... you want to join him? DEFINITELY NOT.

He would get too jealous of anyone daring to look at you to even let you breath in the vicinity of these degen realms.

He's also done plenty of MMO Ironman challenges and was one of the first people to complete Classic Hardcore WoW entirely solo. Didn't even group for dungeons. What a MAN.

Bishojo/Gal games are his guilty pleasure, how could they not be?

He gets all the waifus with none of the jealousy, right???

What do you mean he picks the same one every time? He can't just cheat on them MC!!

Loves JRPGs and Soulslike games.

Has definitely beaten Elden Ring more times than he can count. Knows literally all of the ins, outs, and secrets and is eagerly anticipating the DLC.

Has probably played every single Final Fantasy game and beaten them all. Would very much have a soft spot for FF4, FF7, and FF9.

Could definitely see him playing MOBAs and 4x strategy/Grand strategy games.

He's not the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy for nothin'. He knows strategy games like the back of his hand.

The only brother that ever rivals him in strategic knowledge is Satan. (and Lucifer, but we're talking about GAMES here.)

He spends countless hours on League of Legends.

He mains JG/Mid and gets very toxic.

Has favorite characters, but honestly just plays whatever is in meta.

Owns every skin for Ahri, Lux, Katarina, Evelynn, and Akali.

He's definitely in Challengers.

Would 100% make a Smurf account if you wanted to play and would duo bot with you.

He'd play ADC and do anything to protect you, his loving support.

Would not be toxic in your games (unless you are too).

Faker who???

Controversial pick: Casual Mobile Games

Played Flappy Bird all the time when it was popular, still has a cracked copy on his D.D.D... I don't think anyone is beating his high score.

He's got a ridiculous amount of hours on Candy Crush, Angry Birds, and Fruit Ninja.

Would throw his D.D.D into his fish tank and have Henry 2.0 guard it before he'd ever let you catch him on one of these 'normie' games...

But... he secretly likes them so much.

Satan

Hear me out, Satan would be a SUCKER for CYOA (Choose-your-own-adventure)/IF (Interactive Fiction) text games.

Would have Choice of Games, Hosted Games, and Heart's Choice hidden on his D.D.D.

He LOVES immersing himself in story games and creating various MCs.

Oh, look! An RO that reminds him of you? Don't mind him self-inserting.

Probably has character sheets made for his favorite MCs. 

Will play through his favorite stories many, many times.

It all started with Choice of the Deathless and now he owns every game on each platform? (I'm jealous)

Also goes on Dashing Don... What do you MEAN author hasn't finished this story yet? AAAA-

Detective/Mystery/Escape Rooms Games.

I don't think any explanation is needed here. It's just who he is.

Would definitely get all of his brothers (minus Lucifer) together to do a virtual escape room... Unfortunately, it became so chaotic they never finished it. Oh well.

Once played Phasmophobia with Levi, Beel, and Belphie. Was very proud of himself for figuring out the ghost... Definitely did not sacrifice his brothers for the info.

Life Sims.

Specifically ones that let you own or are centered around cats.

Has played every single Sims game and bought their cat and dogs expansions.

Definitely did NOT recreate you and himself with 6 cute cats!!!

He did NOT get the mod that extends household size so that you two could own 97 cats. He wouldn't do that, no way!!!

...Was there actually a baby in the household, too..? Why did it have his hair and your eyes...? SATAN?!?!

you know the Catz DS game? He owned every single version and will NOT let you touch them... Okay. Maybe he gave into letting you touch them, but ONLY when he's supervising!

Very much enjoys RTS Games.

He's scarily good at games like StarCraft Brood Wars/2, the Age of Empires franchise, or Rise of Nations.

He's also gotten into 4x games like Stellaris and Civ. Thanks, Levi.

Don't try and challenge him, he can beat the hardest bots and WIN... THE BOTS LITERALLY CHEAT.

HOW DOES HE DO IT? 

Controversial Pick: Fighting Games

Specifically games like Guilty Gear, Street Fighter, Tekken, BlazBlue, etc. Courtesy of Levi again. Thanks, Levi.

It helps him temper his wrath.

He'll sometimes play Mortal Kombat just for the finishers?? Why is he this way?

He could spend hours learning all the combos and tech of his favorite characters.

Has created himself some tech books and would only show them to you, esp. if you showed interest in learning the games with him!

I could see him and Levi settling disputes by doing best 3 out of 5 1v1s against each other.

Could see him maining Giovanna or Leo from GGST? Tends to prefer rushdown characters. (this one is completely biased, i named my cat after Giovanna from GG--)

Asmodeus

Dress-up/Fashion/Stylist Games.

SuitU, Love Nikki, Covet Fashion - you name it.

He has all of them on his D.D.D and will shell out major Grimm to get any outfit he likes.

Might try to make the outfits he gets in these games for himself and you, because you're the perfect model!

Has a lot of fun with it and might try and talk you into playing with him.

Will definitely post amazing outfits he makes in-game on Devilgram. Will also post countless photos and videos of you two modeling those outfits he brings to life.

...NSFW/Eroge Games.

Not gonna go into detail on these ones because you already know what I mean.

Enjoys playing those games that haunt the front pages of my Steam.

Would proudly play them in front of you to laugh at how ridiculous they are sometimes (as long as you're 18+)

Like Satan, I could see him enjoying Life Sims...

Unlike Satan, it's not because he wants animals.

Plays games like the Sims, Stardew Valley, and Sun Haven.

Self-inserts himself and will romance EVERYONE.

Has the mods where you can marry every single villager and the bed mod that makes your bed MASSIVE so all your husbands and wives can sleep with you.

Made a Sims save with just himself romping around town... No sim is safe from Asmo.

Also has a Sims save with you and him that he openly enjoys more. It has both of you enjoying that Sims Nightlife as celebrities and living in a MASSIVE mansion he custom decorated.

Will also play any Visual Novel/Dating Game that is recommended to him by Levi.

Bonus points if it never shows the MC so he can self-insert himself.

Controversial pick (in this case, not really): VR Games

Specifically things like VRChat or Chillout VR.

Would be extraordinarily popular and have custom avatars of HIMSELF made with so many toggles that it'll make your head spin.

He would always be hanging out in night club or bar worlds.

Occasionally Mammon joins him.

Sometimes he also invites you to join him~! (Would not like it if people started hanging all over you, tho, and would probably bring you to a hot home world with just you and him if that happened...)

Beelzebub

Sports games.

No doubts about this one.

Could definitely see him playing FIFA or Madden.

Levi thinks these are SUPER normie games and is offended to have them in the house.

Beel doesn't care.

Ooo, they made a game of Fangol?!?! He becomes an expert so fast, you have no idea. Would 100% teach you how to play with him.

Loves Cooking Games or Food-themed Games...

He just can't play them for long, however.

One time you got him to play Cooking Mama with you, Luke, Simeon, and Solomon but you had to stop because he got so hungry that he was trying to eat the television????

Would have to bring in MANY snacks and vow to make dishes from the games if you wanted to play these with him around... Which is a shame because he genuinely enjoys them. 

I could see him loving Multiplayer Party/Minigame Games like Mario Party or WarioWare.

You mean he gets to play silly mini games with all of his favorite people?

He doesn't care if he wins, he just loves having you guys around.

Almost always comes in last place when he's playing with you, Belphie, and Levi but that's okay. The faces you guys make when you get your stars are worth it.

Controversial pick (and I mean this one is VERY controversial): FPS games

Now, I know what you're thinking. Beel is a gentle giant and wouldn't play these types of games...

But! I could see him forming 5 stacks with you and his brothers in games like CS2 and Valorant and being scarily good because of his amazing hand-eye coordination and reaction times?

Like he and Levi could easily carry you guys to high Asc/Low Immortal lobbies.

He would just play fill when everyone's around, but his mains would be Kay-O and Breach.

He would always be the initiator in Counter-Strike, following Levi's IGL calls perfectly.

He would also probably love playing games like Squad or Modern Warfare or Battlefield with all of his brothers, you + the dateables.

Belphie

Our resident Horror Game lover.

They give him ideas on how to prank his brothers dreams.

Once made Mammon go through Outlast in his dreams (nightmares??).

You better run, little pig.

But he genuinely enjoys them... When he can stay awake through them.

Hey, you, why don't you just play for him?

Loved playing through games like Amnesia... Unfortunately for you, his love for puzzle psychological horror probably contributed to how he acted in Act 16 OM--

Loves Psychological Dramas and those Interactive Media Games.

You know. The ones where you're combing through footage or watching videos and making choices to find out the hidden/deeper/darker meanings?

He LOVES those.

Usually has you or his brothers playing for him. It's most likely Satan.

You all get equally invested.

Idle Games.

He can run these while he's asleep.

There's nothing more to be said. 

These are the simplest type of games there are....

He's probably got a cookie empire.

Has a soft spot for Kart Racing Games.

Will regularly be in the room when you, Levi, Beel or Mammon are playing.

He's honestly pretty good at them??

When he's not falling asleep behind the wheel that is.

Controversial pick: Auto Battlers

These are games like TFT, Hearthstone Battlegrounds, and DOTA's Auto Chess.

He naps in between rounds and wakes up in 20s increments to prepare for his turn... Why does he have the timing down to a tee???

You're sure you've even seen him pick perfectly in his sleep??? How does he do it?????

Regularly comes in the Top 4, usually first or second. 

What do you mean he's a Challenger TFT player??? Wtf how???

Will not coach you if you ask, but you're free to watch!

Will definitely cuddle with you the whole time he's playing these.

All Brothers, with a bonus YOU!

I could honestly see them ALL enjoying CRPGs as a group.

They always get the mods that let you increase your party size.

Went through Baldur's Gate 3 with you on your recommendation.

They all fought over who would get to play Astarion and Mammon won?!?!

Satan got Gale

Beel got Karlach

Levi was Laz'ael

Lucifer was Wyll

Belphie got Shadowheart

And Asmo made a Dark Urge Bard that looked exactly like himself????

He literally doesn't even make any Dark Urge decisions.

He doesn't want blood staining his clothes. 😔

You got to choose whatever you wanted though!

You took the Dark Urge from Asmo and he just played a normal, flirty bard with impeccable fashion sense.

This playthrough took MONTHS and MONTHS... but you all had a blast!

Literally.

You cannot count the number of times Satan 'accidentally' hit you with fire balls. (He claims he was aiming for Lucifer.)

Lucifer somehow ended up getting you all the luckiest ending? How did he roll 3 nat 20s?????

You're on to play Divinity: Original Sin II next...

Satan has already claimed Fane.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #obey me brothers #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #what games i think the the brothers would play #ofc this isn't all of them #the post is already long enough #obey me imagines #om! shall we date #om! headcanons #om! leviathan #om! lucifer #om! levi #om! mammon #om! luci #om! satan #om! asmo #om! asmodeus

[emeritusemeritus]

hii! i love your work soo much, you are so talented. both weasley twins x reader, so like both the weasley twins getting jealous because reader has been spending so much time with her male best friend and one night she gets home late and they are mad. (smut and a bit of fluff at the end). so sorry if this is bad this is my first request

Hi my love! Thank you so much, not bad at all! I hope this is what you wanted (I need a very cold shower now) 🖤

Warnings: SMUT, graphic smut; threesomes, PIV, fingering, slightly cumplay, fingering, possessiveness, Dom!sub roles, dominant twins, jealousy, a bit of angst, beginnings of an argument. Swearing. Fluff and smut. Getting fucked in the kitchen. Sorry Dean, I’m sure you’re lovely.

Word count: 3k

Summertime was upon you and as the days got longer and brighter, the temperature increasing, it brought along an endless stream of possibilities and fun.

The twins had been really busy lately, trying to stock up ahead of the impending return to Hogwarts for the students, the few weeks before term time being one of the busiest peaks of the year for them except for Christmas, April fools day and bonfire night. You really shouldn't complain, they were successful, bringing in a lot of money and still took great pleasure in their work. They were inventing all the time, wanting a new product to launch before school resumed and though you were happy for them, you felt like your hadn't truly seen them in weeks.

The days went by in a blur of waking up alone in bed, making yourself a cup of tea and some breakfast, showering alone and then trying to fill your days with work and meeting friends. Occasionally you'd help at the shop when they needed cover but you tended to stick behind the scenes working on the accounts and ordering, with the occasional potion brewing for the big restocks. Every night you'd cook dinner and set aside two plates, eating alone with the company of trashy muggle tv before you cleaned up the kitchen, put the two wrapped plates in the fridge and eventually drifted to bed. If it wasn't for occasionally needing the bathroom in the middle of the night and seeing your two husbands asleep either side of you, you could easily have believed that they never came back to the flat.

You'd tried to surprise them and take them lunch to try and steal some time together in the office but they were always too busy, too close to nailing their project so you stopped bothering. You tried waiting up late at night for them to show but they'd simply given you sleepy smiles and had fallen asleep on the sofa not twenty minutes later when you tried that. And sex? You could hardly remember what that felt like.

To say you were feeling a little neglected was an understatement. So when you ran into Dean Thomas in the Flourish and Botts Friday morning, you didn't hesitate to agree to a proper catch-up with him Saturday evening at the Leaky Cauldron. He'd extended the invitation to your husbands as well and you'd politely thanked him, telling him you'd ask them but in reality you knew there was a slim chance of that actually happening.

You hadn't seen either of your husbands that day from the moment you woke up til the moment you stepped out of the door, slightly dressed up and ready to meet Dean. You'd tried to catch them last night and then again around early morning when the shop was supposed to be quieter but they'd barely even acknowledged your presence. So you left them a note, telling them that you were going out and that you'd be home later.

You had a wonderful time; you'd actually run into Neville and Luna and they had joined you for dinner. You fell easily into conversation, just like the old days, with Dean of course asking about Ginny, your husbands and the shop. Neville and Luna were engaged and you were told all about their wedding plans which completely warmed your heart. You were on high as you walked back to the flat, a smile still on your face after catching up with good friends.

The smile disappeared pretty much as soon as you stepped through the flat, took off your jacket and shoes and found Fred and George sat at the kitchen table, your note placed between them. There’s a tension in the air that you can’t place. They don’t look mad, but they definitely don’t look happy either.

“Oh here she is,” George says, his voice dropping with sarcasm.

“Remembered that you have two husbands have you?” Fred says, his voice even harsher than George’s. You fire up with anger, biting your lip as you look between them with a glare, unable to push down your feelings anymore.

“That’s ironic coming from you two,” you mumble, walking over to the sink to get a glass of water.

“Care to elaborate princess?” Fred says blankly from behind you.

You snort, not believing that they’d really be getting into this now, the biggest hypocrites in all of Diagon Alley.

“Did you forget lately that you had a wife?” You ask, turning to them and looking between them. “She’s about yay high,” You say, gesturing to your height, “* colour hair, surname Weasley.” Your voice holds almost no humour to it now, feeling fired up.

“Yeah I’m looking at her,” Fred says with an equally unamused, expressionless glance.

“Doesn’t seem like her though, our wife’s normally a good girl,” George adds. There it is, that’s what the tension is.

A smirk slowly spreads across your face as you realise what the real issue is- they’re jealous.

You shrug dramatically, placing your glass into the sink, knowing just how to get them, “boys prefer bad girls.”

It’s instantaneous, both of them rising to their feet with the implication of your words.

“Is that right little slut?” George says, beginning to move closer. “Men, like us, prefer our good girl.”

“I reckon she’s forgotten who she belongs to mate,” Fred says, casting a glance at his brother, hanging back a little as a devilish twinkle begins to shine in his eyes.

“Yeah I reckon so,” George agrees, looking up and down your body.

“Have you forgotten sweetheart?” Fred asks teasingly, his bottom lip sticking out just a tad to mock you.

“Probably,” you say defiantly, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“Try again,” Fred says darkly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he advances on you, moving in step with his twin as they crowd you, towering over you. Their stares are dark, devilish and hungry have you flushed in seconds as their towering forms loom over you menacingly, both with smirks tugging at their lips as they notice your heaving chest and flushed face.

“Who do you belong to Angel? Hm?” George says, reaching out and pulling up your top over your head, seeing absolutely no resistance from you.

“Fred,” you say breathlessly, having to suck in your cheeks to stop yourself smiling as you watch George’s eyes widen in disbelief.

You gasp as your bra strap pings on your body, Fred’s fingers having purposefully let it go as a mild form of punishment for your act of defiance.

“And?” He pushes. Your eyes never faulted from George’s, allowing a hint of a smile to appear on your face that is a complete contrast to his thunderous glare.

“Bill?” You say innocently and within seconds you are turned around, pressed up against the kitchen counter and spanked, the loud thwack echoing through the kitchen.

Hands begin creeping up your legs and you’ve never been more thankful that you’d chosen a skirt, enjoying the feel of hands creeping up your bare skin under they stop just as they reach the lace of your panties. You feel long fingers begin to touch your pussy through the lace of your underwear and you throw your head back at the sensation, so close to where you need them but not close enough.

“Try again princess,” Fred says in your ear, body pressed against your back so you can feel the bulge of his erection against your bum.

“George, George,” you moan out, just as Fred finds your clit, rubbing it gently through the lace.

“See, told you you were our good girl,” Fred coos, pressing his erection against your bum harder now, giving the most delicious friction.

“Not quite,” George days darkly from the side and after a few seconds, Fred pulls away. Your bra is almost ripped from you leaving your breasts exposed and you’re mercilessly turned around by strong hands so they can see.

When both twins suddenly crouch down in front of you, their mouths instantly fixing upon your breasts, focusing on the pebbled nipples as their tongues dance around the sensitive peaks, you cry out, hands going into their hair to keep them just where you need them.

George’s hand traces up your leg and slips into your underwear, tracing his long fingers through your wet slit as you moan out, his fingers finding your sensitive little nub almost instantly.

“You do you belong to?” George says into the skin of your breast, pulling away to look up at you.

“You, fuck, you, both of you,” you moan out as George’s finger slips inside you at the same time, slowly thrusting as your hips cant trying to get him deeper.

“Good girl.”

“Who’s got you this wet sweetheart?” Fred says, his own fingers joining George’s as he rubs your clit whilst George stretches out out with his fingers, adding a second one slowly.

“You, geor, Fre,” you cry out, not even able to finish their names as they work together, hitting every pleasure point as Fred’s lips wrap around your nipple again and give a harsh suck.

“Not Dean?” George says, not holding back the jealousy.

“No, only you,” you cry out, beginning to feel your climax approaching.

“Not get Angel,” George says, suddenly pulling his hands away, as does Fred, leaving you whining and pouting at their actions.

“Bend over the table,” George instructs and you mindlessly follow his command, cringing as your naked breasts press against the cold wood of the table.

Your skirt is flipped up from behind you, exposing the little strip of lace you’d been wearing underneath until it’s unceremoniously ripped from your body at the side. You gasp, hips lifting up as your pussy is exposed to the air, to their eyes and in no time at all you can feel the head of a cock pressing against your wet lips.

“Tell me darling,” George says from behind you, “who do you belong to?”

“You Georgie!”

Your moan echoes throughout the apartment as the thick head of his cock slips inside you, the slight upward curve of his length making you gasp as it presses directly against your sweet spot inside.

“George!” You cry out as he immediately sets a rough and fast pace, your hands clawing at the table for purchase as your hips repeatedly knock into the side of the table.

“So fucking wet,” George growls from behind you as he fucks into you perfectly. “My fucking good girl, so fucking perfect for us.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere, body already clearly worked up from being so expertly fingered earlier. He curses from behind you as your walls clench, squeezing his perfect cock tightly as you writhe and cry out with the ecstasy coursing through you. He lasts about three more thrusts as your pussy bares down on him and you moan out again as his thrusts get sloppy and sporadic as he cums, crying out your name in a whine.

“My little princess fucked out?” You hear from the side and your eyes widen as you realise that Fred had been watching all this time, waiting to pounce as he stands before you naked. George hadn’t even undressed, he’d simply bent you over, unbuttoned his work pants and fucked into you without any care.

“Think you can take me too sweet girl?” He asks, hand ghosting over your back as his twin slips out of you. You nod eagerly, already feeling empty as George’s cum begins leaking out of you and down the skin of your inner thighs.

Instead of getting behind you as you expected, he takes a seat on one of the wooden chairs beside you, beckoning you to join him as he pumps his cock in his hand. The sight has you near drooling, the sight of his long, big fingers wrapped around his thick cock, the wide shoulders and strong upper body so deliciously on display.

You back up from the table and remove your skirt and ripped panties that were clinging to one of your legs. He let’s go of his cock and it bobs back to hit his lower abdomen as he outstretches his hand to help you climb into him, both of you completely naked now.

You rest your legs on his and grab his wide shoulders for support as he grabs the base of his cock, allowing you to sink down on it. He’s slightly wider than George and you cry out at the feel of being stretched out again, your wetness and what’s left of George’s cum acting as lube to allow him to slip straight inside of you, reaching deeper and deeper until he was snugly pressed against your cervix. Your fingers paw at the flesh of his shoulders as he gives you time to adjust, sucking on your breasts in front of his face as you lift one hand and stroke back the hair from his face. He pulls away and looks up at you seating in his lap and there’s a moment that passes where you stare at each other with a smile, pausing to share a passionate kiss whilst his cock nestled deep inside you, your walls already clenching around his big member.

His hands fall to your bum as you slowly begin to lift yourself up until he was almost completely out of you before you quickly sink back down, his length filling you completely. Your loud moans are completely synchronised at the sensation of him fucking all the way into you and as you quickly begin to find a perfect rhythm, you begin to feel completely cock drunk.

Your hips buck on him as you chase the fire in your belly that’s beginning to ignite; feeling as if his cock was filling you completely. Your thighs burn at the exertion of bouncing on him and the sight alone of his scrunched up, pleasure filled face is enough to make you let out a string of moans that sound almost inhuman. You lean forward to kiss him again and the new angle hits something inside you that propels you right over the edge, crying out his name against his lips as you fall completely over the edge.

Your orgasms has nearly subsided but you can’t move anymore, legs burning and tired, as much as you want to keep riding him. He senses your slowing immediately and quickly grabs you by the ass and in a wicked feat of strength, he lifts you and him, keeping his cock deep inside as he placed you onto the edge of the table. You fall back, resting your head on the wood as he grabs your hips and snaps his own into yours, making your breasts bounce in time with his thrusts. He’s unable to look away, eyes dancing between your bouncing tits and your stretched out pussy, all on display for him. He begins to fuck you harder and harder, your cries getting louder as you grab hold of the edge of the table behind you, tits jiggling wildly as he bruises your hips.

“Gonna, fuck, oh fuck baby,” he whines as he watches your right hand snake down and rub circles around your clit, feeling like you could cum again.

“Let me,” you hear from the side and George’s fingers immediately take the place of yours, toying with your clit in the most deliciously sinful way. Fred cock slams into you as he starts to cum before he slams your hips down against his, cock buried right to the end of you as you feel his perfect length twitch and spurt inside of you, filling you with another load of hot cum. The sensation of being filled along with George’s sinful fingers has you reaching your peak again, calling out their names as you fight against Fred’s strong hold, unable to keep your hips still.

Your breathless and sweating, completely fucked out as you mumble their names over and over again. Fred slips out of you and pants as he throws himself back down onto the chair that would undoubtedly need cleaning in the morning.

“Come here Angel,” George says, grabbing your attention as he extends his hands for you to take, pulling you up. He stops and pulls you in for a sweet kiss that only increases your breathlessness as you pull away with half kisses eyes, tired and blissfully fucked out.

“Want a bath?” He says, much softer than he’d been when you entered. You shake your head with a smile, covering your slightly chilly body.

“Pee and bed,” you say, reaching for his hand but this time to entwine your fingers. He gives you a small, shy smile as he brings your entwined hands to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

“Did you have a nice time?” He asks as you hop down from the table, cringing at the wetness you can see on the wood, knowing that you probably shouldn’t have fucked where you eat. You look at him questioningly, not wanting to start an argument but he gives you a little smile that tells you everything is okay.

It’s a little later and you’re cuddled up to Fred on the sofa, having been convinced to stay up with them a little while.

“We are sorry princess, never meant to pull away so much, we just needed to get the new products right snd it’s been none stop,” Fred says, stroking your leg as it rests across his lap.

“It’s okay, I understand,” you say, looking away from the terrible muggle tv show you were watching.

“It won’t happen again,” George says and you smile, reaching out to grab hold of his hand in understanding.

“Better not,” you say, the hint of a devious smirk crossing your face. “Or next time I go out to meet Dean I won’t wear any panties.”

“Bed.”

“Now.”

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