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klemen-tine · 2 months

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Blowing Raspberries

Batfam x Male!Reader Platonic

@jaythes1mp Sorry this took so long and is not all in one part! But here is the first half.

TW: Break in, Child Abuse (not the Batfam), and neglect

Publicly, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson is the oldest Wayne sibling. Taken in by Bruce Wayne at 8-years-old, he is the first child and the oldest. In the eyes of the law and adoption papers. In the eyes of the Wayne family however, the oldest sibling title belongs to Y/N L/N. Similar to the Drakes, the L/N’s live on the other side of the Waynes, and similar to Tim, Y/N had been left home alone… a lot.

Which meant he was over, a lot. So much so, he had his own room, Alfred made him a plate for every meal, and he was aware of their little nightly activities. Y/N L/N was a needed normalcy within the Manor, reminding them that there is more to life outside of crime fighting.

“Did you see that new cafe?” Y/N asked, looking into Dick’s exhausted eyes while resting his chest against Jason’s head. Dick shook his head, “No. Why?” Y/N pouted, “Because you guys literally broke their windows last night.” Jason winced, remembering the shattering of glass and wide-eyed stares as he handled some thugs.

“Please tell me that isn’t the cafe you wanted to go to today.” Dick buried his head in his hands and begged every deity that it was not that cafe. Y/N has been talking about it for weeks and finally found a time where all their schedules aligned so they could do it.

“It was.” Jason and Dick groaned while Y/N stared at them with an annoyed expression. His arms that were wrapped around Jason tightened in a mocking chokehold, knowing that if Jason wanted to he could easily get out and have Y/N pinned. Dick groaned again, “Is… is there somewhere else you want to try?”

“Not really.” ‘Fuck!’ Jason and Dick stared at one another, trying to figure out a way to still have this day with Y/N. If they don’t hurry, the vultures will swoop in and suggest something that will catch Y/N’s attention and–

“Y/N, how about we got to the petting zoo.”

“Dami!”

“Buzz off short stack!” Y/N thumped Jason’s head with his chin, “Don’t talk to Dami like that.” The youngest Wayne smiled victoriously while his two older brothers glared at him. Dick looked offended and Jason was actually ready to strangle him. Y/N shook his head, “Dami, aren’t we going on Friday? I’m picking you up from school to go.” Damian scrunched his nose, “We can go twice.”

Y/N couldn’t help but to chuckle, “Hmmm, those rabbits are cute.” Jason’s grip tightened, “The new bookstore in downtown! There’s a new bookstore that is supposed to have a cafe attached to it.” Damian scowled at Dick perked up, “Yeah, I forgot about that.” Y/N hummed, staring at Jason in concern, “Jay, you hate downtown.” It’s full of rich snobs and people who have nothing better to do than walk the streets in designer clothing.

Jason made a face, “It’s our day with you, I’m fine with it as long as you’re there.” Dick gagged and Damian looked ready to chuck a knife at him. Y/N blinked at the younger man in shock before laughing, “That’s cute, okay. Let’s go there then.” He released Jason from his hold, unwrapping his arms from Jason’s neck and standing tall. Dick smiled at Y/N, who was talking to a pouting Damian and ruffling slicked back hair.

“Alright, Y/N, I'm assuming you’re ready.” Unlike the Wayne brothers who had a father that did not care why they landed on the NEWS or magazine as long as they didn’t kill anyone, Y/N’s father was different. For someone who was always gone, he had a firm hold and opinions on Y/N’s life.

Bruce may not care that his kids go out looking like they haven’t showered in three days, but Y/N’s dad has ordered the maids to get rid of all the ripped jeans Y/N had because the paparazzi made an opinion on them when Y/N wore them. Jason remembers listening in on that call, and numerous other calls from Mr. L/N, as he hollered at his child he did not care about.

“You are a L/N! If you still want that last name then you will dress like a L/N!”

Unlike Dick and Jason who are dressed in jeans, Y/N is dressed in slacks and a nice polo shirt. His hair was clean and styled and the shoes he wore still shined. The aesthetic is called ‘old money’ and boy did Y/N have that. He and the Wayne siblings have become the newest trend setters in Gotham.

Whenever the paparazzi caught them together it was always Old Gotham vs New Gotham. Slacks vs Jeans. Hair combed vs natural. Clean vs Rugged. L/N vs Wayne.

They were the topic whenever they were out together, which was a lot. The only reason Mr. L/N hasn’t said anything is probably because Bruce is keeping his mouth shut about the child-neglect and abandonment. Point is, seeing the Wayne kids and L/N son together wasn’t odd, in fact there were jokes of Bruce Wayne adopting him, but they still always turned heads.

“Y/N, I am telling you that is a horrible choice and you’re not gonna like it.” Said young man raised an eyebrow at Jason and tutted disappointedly, “Jay, you haven’t even read it.” The guy motioned at the cover, “Look at it! Dick! Come ‘ere and look at it!” The other made only a side glance at it and sighed, “Y/N… this is only going to lead to problems.”

“It is literally a book about romance.” Jason screwed up his face, like someone had shoved a lemon down his throat, “But like… young adult romance. Read the classics.”

“I have read the classics. You have read me the classics. I read them in class and if I have to read how Ms. Elizabeth Barnett falls in love with Mr. Darcy one more time I’m actually going to throw myself in traffic.” Dick agreed with Y/N on that, remembering all the time he had to read the damn book.

“It's Elizabeth Bennett.”

“Jay, I swear to God.”

“Are you sure you read them because there’s no way someone who’s read them would get that name wrong.”

“Little wing–”

“–Dickie, maybe. But not anybody else.”

“–Excuse you.” Y/N snorted at the now bickering brothers, watching in amusement as Dick pulled Jason’s ear and Jason to Dick’s hair. Sighing, Y/N stepped between the two. Y/N L/N is possibly the only person, other than Alfred, who would dare do such a thing. Fear was absent on his face as he calmly walked into the dog fight, and helped release their bites with gentle tugs and stern words.

“Enough. The line is picking up at the cafe, so let's checkout and head over.” Y/N is the person who quells the fights and mends the bonds. The only person in the Manor that knew how to communicate their feelings and help others realize and communicate theirs.

He is the kind, patient, and understanding older brother of the Batfam. Always paying attention to other’s needs and always willing to listen to someone vent their frustrations and offer sound advice. Y/N is –

“–And what about the company?! How come the sales are low this month?”

“Father, they are riding average, it’s just the last month was a boom because–”

“I don’t care about last month! Why are the sales low this month?!”

– not Bruce Wayne’s ward, and therefore there isn’t much he can say in this scenario. Bruce listened and watched Y/N slouch as Mr. L/N continued to scream and berate him from across the world. He watched the exhaustion take over Y/N’s features and the way his forehead creased, Bruce knows that a headache is now present.

“If you still want the company then you better act like it! Enough of prancing around like the money you spend is yours!” Y/N is grateful his father hung up after that, because Y/N had a clapback to that and he’s sure his father would fly back from wherever he is just to smack him around for saying it.

Setting his phone down on the coffee table, the weight of the conversation making his shoulders sag and melt into the armchair with a huff. Bruce chuckled at the pout, “For what it is worth, fluctuating prices are normal in businesses. As long as it doesn’t go too low, you are fine.” Y/N smiled at the man, fixing his posture and picking up the mug of coffee.

“You heard all of that?” The man can still remember when he first met Y/N. The property alarm was triggered, and when Bruce and Alfred went out to investigate, an 8-year-old Y/N was there, his hands holding the wild raspberries and his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

He huffed at the memory, making Y/N give him a weird look. Bruce had been grateful to Y/N’s impromptu trespassing, because when Dick came into his care, a now 10-year-old Y/N had welcomed the traumatized and blubbering 8-year-old. Something Bruce had little to no idea how to handle.

Then Jason came and that was a wild ride, followed by Steph, then Tim, and now Damian. That's just the Robins. It doesn’t include the others that have become family but never took the Robin mantle. Y/N had been there through it all, and welcomed each one with a smile and open arms. At the same time giving Bruce a raised eyebrow and icy glare that screamed, ‘Really? Another child?’

Y/N never faulted Bruce for his lack of communication, but he did let the man know repeatedly that while words may start fires, they can also put them out. Y/N had laid it on him one time, after a particular nasty fight with Dick and Jason.

“For a man who loves using his vocabulary to start arguments you sure don’t have the vocabulary to fix them. What are you, a toddler?”

Mending things with Y/N is always easy, because Y/N does not hold grudges. Not to mention having the emotional intelligence of a therapist, Y/N was always in-tuned to his emotions and whether he was projecting or not. Or if anyone else was. Living in a manor filled with people who have traumatic backstories and skeletons in the closets, Y/N has become the voice of reason and unbiased opinions. Similar to Alfred, just without the sass.

“Do you still like raspberries?” Bruce asked, and Y/N nodded, “You ask this every time a celebration of some sort comes up and the answer is always the same. Yes, I still love raspberries.” Y/N had once confided to Bruce, over a glass of wine, how he had asked his father if he could paint the bookshelves in his room. Little did Mr. L/N know that the color would be burgundy, the closest color to a raspberry he could get without poking someone’s eye out, and when his father found out he had the bookshelves removed and set ablaze.

Y/N got his ass handed to him when Mr. L/N came back from his trip, and was then prohibited from decorating his room without prior approval of design and permission.

Bruce had the bookshelves in Y/N’s room in the manor painted burgundy, and when Y/N saw them, it was like watching a child be told that they were not the bad child. The relief and the path to healing across his face as he took in the bookshelves.

The man watched Y/N sip his cup of coffee, watching how exhaustion seemed to seep off of him like cologne and fill the air with his tired and somewhat annoyed state. Phone calls from Mr. L/N we’re never received well by anybody, and Jason and Tim have more than once thought about sending the hateful man a few messages. Damian offered to ambush him when he came home.

Y/N quickly shot those down.

Tim came from nowhere, his face screwed tight and body tense. Y/N gave him a once over, before making space for the college student on the couch. He gave him a worried look-over, “Is everything alright?” Tim melted into Y/N’s side, huffing and grumbling about something.

Bruce’s phone vibrated, and it was a message from Tim sent before he got down here.

‘It’s in Cabo.’ Bruce huffed, already knowing that if Tim was listening then so was everyone else. Referring to Mr. L/N as an ‘it’ seemed to be everyone’s favorite pastime. Everyone but Y/N’s, but as long as it wasn’t said around him then it was fine.

“You’re going to the Gala, right?” Tim asked and Y/N nodded, “Of course, when have I ever missed one?” Tim continued to grumble a bit, but relaxed into Y/N’s side as he ran his fingers through Tim’s messy hair. God he loves it when Y/N does this. There was barely anything better than Y/N’s head massages, easily lulling him to a calm state as everyone mentally prepared for the Gala tonight.

When Y/N had turned 13, that is when he started showing up to the Galas representing L/N Industries, and he would be in Bruce’s care while there. Whoever Bruce met, Y/N was expected to make a great impression. Bruce never missed the way Y/N would sometimes stare at the Wayne kids in jealousy as they got to do whatever they want, while he is forced to be an adult and try to win other adults over.

Then forced to be yelled at afterwards by his father on the phone afterwards for something miniscule. Either someone commented on a piece of clothing, or how he wasn’t smiling, anything that was negative Y/N got yelled at for. It was like Mr. L/N didn’t know how to do anything else other than yell at his child.

Tim took no offense when the fingers in his hair stopped moving, and Y/N’s body became limp. The other was knocked out on the couch, napping away the stress and enjoying the weekend. Unlike Tim who had Bruce’s help when managing Wayne Enterprises, Y/N is all on his own. Learning from his dad’s assistant, and also Bruce’s, Y/N was basically alone when his father had forced him to take the mantle. In face only, because as far as Mr. L/N was concerned, the company’s profit was still his profit. None of it going to Y/N, except as a monthly allowance.

Jason had once said he should just stop managing the company, and if his father loved it enough, then he’ll take over. Y/N chuckled-the bags under his eyes were deep and he had just gotten over a stress cold- and he said that although his father may care a lot about the profit, it was his late mother’s company and he wouldn’t want to embarrass her soul by purposefully failing.

However, now all that company did was cause him stress and make him sick more frequently. Bruce had said it was probably stress from his father, and not so much the company, but that didn’t stop them all from wishing the company would just go away.

Tim looked up Y/N through his eyelashes, taking in the similar dark circles they both shared and how Y/N looks paler than usual, and he knows that Y/N’s health would only get worse if they targeted the company. His oldest brother would do everything in his power to keep the company afloat, and it would be devastating on both sides. Y/N would run himself ragged trying to keep it alive and that would mean less time with them.

“Let him rest, Tim. He needs it.” Everyone has asked Bruce if he plans to do something. However, there isn’t much Bruce can do now that Y/N is an adult. He’s offered a room in a manor for Y/N to stay at forever, but Y/N has always been a bit hesitant about leaving the L/N’s home. Bruce can understand why.

Aged blue eyes observed the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and he wondered if there was anything that could convince Y/N to stay here.

++++

“Mr. L/N, what a surprise.” A surprise it is too, because instead of Y/N being here, it is his father. The one who was in Cabo earlier today. The man smiled, looking nothing like Y/N’s, and he held out a hand, “It has been a while. I figured it was time to show my face and give my son a rest.” Dick stared at Mr. L/N in shock and weariness, not liking how he said ‘his son.’ If it was a jab at Bruce, it didn’t land. Brucie Wayne, the social bug he was, laughed and clapped his hand on Mr. L/N’s shoulder.

“Is Y/N not showing up?” The man’s eyebrow twitched, “No, unfortunately he felt under the weather so he’s taking a break.” Dick’s eyes narrowed, and Bruce’s smile faltered, “Is that so? How unfortunate, he’s fun to talk to.” Mr. L/N’s smile tightened, “Indeed.”

The Gala was tense, at least it was for the Wayne family, because Y/N never misses a Gala. Never. Dick saved a slice of raspberry cheesecake, for when Y/N comes over tomorrow. He’s going to be upset that he missed a fresh slice, but knowing Y/N, he’ll worry about missing the Gala. The cheesecake will act as reassurance that no one is mad. They just had to wait until tomorrow, when Y/N will show up.

Only he didn’t. Dick can’t remember the last time he hasn’t seen Y/N in a 24-hour period, but he does know that he didn’t like it. Almost like there was a force keeping his shoulders tight and chest heavy. Looking around, he could already see the effects it was having on others.

He didn’t answer his phone, and when they called the L/N Manor, it was one of the maids picking up and stating that Y/N was either out, sleeping, or feeling under the weather. Which doesn’t make sense because when Y/N is sick, he is always over at the Wayne manor. No one makes a better chicken noodle soup than Alfred.

They let it go. Maybe Y/N wants to be home because his dad is home?

Then the next day, there was still no Y/N. Not a text message, not a phone call, complete radio silence. Following radio silence while on patrol, radio silence from Y/N had to be one of the more terrifying forms of silence.

There was nothing. His father left late last night, and usually that would mean Y/N would be over. He would be over complaining about his dad and how he needs to work harder. He’d get a stress cold that would last for two days before he would be back to normal.

Every phone call, every text message going unanswered.

‘Y/N, I swear I’m about to break into your house. Please answer.’ The threat was real and Dick meant every word. He’s talked Jason, Damian, and surprisingly Tim from doing it but now four days of radio silence was enough to make even Bruce stir-crazy. Batman has become a little more violent throughout the week, and Bruce Wayne a little more stressed looking.

‘Hey! Sorry for the silence, I’m just not feeling too well. I’ll see you in another few days.’ Everyone read the text message, and everyone’s mind filled with the same idea.

“Honestly, with how often he’s with us you’d think he knows better than to lie.” Damian’s nose scrunched, eyeing the message as if it spit in his face. Tim shrugged, “It just means he’s hiding something.”

Bruce said nothing, falling into the role of silent protector.

“You are not actually going over in your Bat costume are you?”

In the L/N Manor

Y/N walked the dark hallways back to his room. Under his arm was a book and in his other hand was a cup of coffee, still steaming and warming his fingers. The lightning that occasionally flashed filled the area with white light, casting long shadows and creating an eerie atmosphere.

When Y/N was younger, he used to sprint back to his room. He hated how dark and silent the hallways are, reminding him that he is alone in a place that does not want him. When he whispered to Dick that he was scared of the lightning, Dick had told Bruce and sure enough Y/N would be spending nights at the Wayne manor whenever it was forecasted to thunderstorm.

Y/N had gotten over the fear, but he still occasionally slept over when the forecast predicted rain. Just because he no longer feared it, didn’t mean he liked it.

Pausing to look out the window like some gothic prince trapped in a tower, Y/N recalled the argument he had with his dad. The older L/N making a surprise visit and berating his child when he first saw him and when he left. Y/N wondered if with the allowance he was given, if he could just move out. Apartments in the upper end of Gotham were expensive, and he’d never hear the end of it if he moved to East Gotham.

Not to mention, if he did leave to move out on his own, he’d be further from the Wayne family. Sure, Jason and Dick live on their own, and it wasn’t like Tim or Damian needed him around all the time, but it was home for him.

Maybe, he’s the one that needs them.

Lightning flashed and there was another reflection in the window.

“Ahhh!” Y/N threw his cup of coffee at the stranger behind him, and only paused in throwing the book when he saw the familiar cowl.

“Bruce! What the hell?! Oh my God, oh my God, I think I just lost like 10 years of my life.” Y/N clasped a hand over his heart, trying to calm the organ. Taking deep breaths, he finally managed to steady his heart beat and scrunched his nose at the older man. To which, Bruce Wayne glared back, “What happened to your face?”

‘Oh shit.’ Y/N sighed, “Nothing Bruce. I just fell, but what are you doing in my house? Did…did you break in?” Y/N tried to get around the taller and bigger man, but Bruce grabbed his arm. He spun Y/N around and thanks to the flash of lightning, Bruce’s jaw clenched at the fading bruises on Y/N’s face.

“Did F/N do this?”

“Bruce, I told you I just fell.” The lenses on the cowl narrowed, and Y/N saw the frown grow on the man’s face. Sighing, Y/N scrunched nose and winced when a bruise scrunched with it, “Honestly though Bruce, how did you even get in here? No, how did you even guess this hallway?”

“You’re rooms this way.”

“Ahhhhh!” Y/N screamed and ran into Bruce’s side for protection against the voice.

“Dick! Ho-wha- why are you here?!”

“We were worried.” This time Y/N only flinched, and whirled around to see Damian in the Robin costume. He gaped at the pre-teen, “Oh my God, you all are just spawning out of nowhere.” Damian grabbed his hand, and Y/N couldn’t help but to hold the youngest’s hand. Muscle memory.

“Y/N, you’re face,” Dick whispered, gently tracing the swollen and discolored skin, “We thought you were sick.” Y/N smiled, leaning into the palm of Dick’s hand, “I was. I’m just getting over it, as for the bruises… Like I was telling Bruce, I just fell.”

Damian’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened and the oldest sibling smiled down at him, “What’s wrong Dami?” The youngest gave a small glare through the lenses of the Robin mask, “I find your lies insulting and belittling, Y/N. The truth would be appreciated before things get more drastic.”

“...Excuse me?” Y/N tried to remove his hand from Damian’s grip, and panicked when Robin refused to let go.

“Y/N, please be honest. What happened?” Dick, in his Nightwing costume, rested his hands on Y/N's shoulders and tried to coax the truth out of the person he sees as his oldest brother. It only made the other tense, and tried to get out of Damian’s grip.

“Guys, you’re scaring me.”

“Y/N, what happened?” Bruce’s voice did nothing to ease the fear that Y/N was experiencing, and for the first time ever in the time he’s known the Wayne family, Y/N didn’t want to be around them. He struggled some more to get away from them, but with Robin’s grip on his hand, Nightwing’s hands on his shoulders, and Batman’s gaze keeping him in place, Y/N found it harder to move.

Batman sighed, and with a nod that Y/N would have missed if he wasn’t focused on the man, Nightwing’s hand moved closer to Y/N’s neck. The other’s eyes widened, his one free hand moving to stop Nightwing.

“Wa-”

“Good night, Y/N.” His vision went dark and the only thing he registered was a pair of arms catching him before his body hit the floor.

++++

Y/N woke with a start, in a very familiar room, with raspberry painted bookshelves and dark sheets. His arms shot up to his face, and bandages rested on his cheeks. Looking at his arm and seeing the sleeves of his pajama pants, Y/N closed his eyes in misery and knew that if he were to lift the sleeves, there would be bandages.

Sitting up, Y/N grunted and rested his forehead in his hand.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

“Jay…” Y/N watched the other carefully, watching the taller and bigger man silently move across the room to sit next to him. His nose scrunched, “Your brothers and father have some explaining to do. Where are they?” Jason shrugged, “Out. Don’t worry about that, but Y/N, why did you hide this from us?” Y/N stared at Jason for a bit, processing the question and sighing irritably.

“Cause it's not a big deal. This was the only time and–”

“One time is still too many times!” Jason yelled, startling Y/N. Wide E/C eyes stared into Jason’s furious blue eyes, the slightest hint of green starting to slowly take over. Y/N gulped, “Jason, it’s fine. I am here now, right?” He reached out and grasped Jason’s larger hand, watching the other calm down with deep breaths. Those blue eyes of his seem to fall on every bandage across Y/N’s face, before looking back down at their clasped hands.

“Everyone was a mess, you know that right?” Y/N chuckled at him, chalking it up to Jason being overdramatic, “You guys are too funny. I know me going radio silent wasn’t appreciated, but you don’t need to guilt trip me further.”

“I’m not joking around, Y/N. Everyone was a mess.” There was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N pausing. His E/C eyes landed on Jason and watched how those eyes continued to glow green. The larger man took a deep breath and seemed to calm whatever raging thoughts he was having, “But it's fine now, because you are here.” Y/N furrowed his brow, but smiled nevertheless, “Yeah.”

Silence overtook the room and Y/N is still unsure how to proceed. It wasn’t rare for the Batfamily to be a bit… dramatic. For fucks sake Bruce dresses as a giant furry and terrorizes criminals. However, there was something in Jason’s tone that had Y/N stilling. Contemplating his next words and wondering if they were the correct ones to say.

“You’re awake.” Y/N’s head snapped to the door and standing there was Damian. He gave a smile to the youngest Wayne, “Damian, you're not one to usually enter without knocking.” The youngest strolled over and eyes Jason’s and Y/N’s hands, “I heard you two talking and figured it would be okay if I entered.” Y/N pursed his lips, “Well, true but Dami you should still–”

“Father wants to talk to you, after dinner.” Green eyes met E/C and there it was again. A glint of something sinister lurking underneath the green. Y/N gulped and outstretched an arm. His palms up like he was approaching a dog, asking to pet it. Damian took the invitation and fell into Y/N’s embrace. Crawling onto Y/N’s bed and into the space underneath Y/N’s arm and against his chest, Damian nuzzled into the space with a content smile.

Y/N felt his heart rate spike, something alerting him that he is surrounding himself with something dangerous. Which is preposterous. Yeah, Damian was a little psychotic and so was Jason, but they wouldn’t harm Y/N. They wouldn’t hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.

Yet, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of something being wrong.

“When is dinner, Dami?” The younger boy hummed, “At 5:30.” Y/N glanced at the clock reading 5:25. Sighing, gently nudged the two away, “C’mon we have five minutes. Alfred will be upset with us for being late.” Damian grumbled while Jason outwardly expressed his discontent. When Y/N fully stood up, he noted that his clothes were different.

“Who… who changed me?” Jason shrugged and Damian continued walking. Y/N looked back down at the sweatpants he was now wearing and the oversized shirt. None of which are his.

“I-I should change first–”

“C’mon Y/N, no one cares.”

“Indeed, Drake has shown up before looking horrid. You look wonderful, like always.” Y/N said nothing to address those comments, but the time clicking on the clock had Y/N forgoing dressing and instead grabbing his house slippers. Damian was quick to grab his hand and Jason walked behind like he was protecting Y/N from something.

The walk was silent, and there were some bruises on Y/N’s body that had him wincing sometimes. Nevertheless, when the sound of chatter began to echo through the halls, Y/N controlled his expressions and braced for the question and answers he wanted.

“Well, look who finally woke up,” Dick joked and Y/N rolled his eyes, “I don’t want to hear that from the people who broke into my house.” He said it as a jest, but some part of Y/N wanted to mean every word he said. The three culprits didn’t even pretend to look guilty.

Y/N gave Bruce a pointed look, he busied himself by pouring himself, Y/N, Dick, and Jason wine. Damian released Y/N’s hand to go sit at his respective seat, between Tim and Bruce, while Y/N took his between Bruce’s and Dick’s. Dick smiled at him, “Happy to have you at dinner. They have been quiet for the past few days.”

“If that is your way of saying I talk too much Dick, may I remind you who is the reason we had to enact a five minute quiet period during meals before.” The man laughed, unbothered by that little fact being thrown into the air.

Dinner continued with the usual chatter, arguments, snide remarks, and dirty looks. Y/N’s absence was barely brought up, and instead he got filled in about what he missed while he was radio-silent. No one questioned the bruises on his face, or the now open secret that Y/N had tried to keep quiet about.

“Y/N, please see me in my studies.” Bruce gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder and Y/N followed, thanking Alfred as he did so and waving to all the brothers. The walk was tense, and something kept stirring in Y/N’s stomach that he was walking into something dangerous. Not a trap, because a trap means Y/N didn’t see it or feel it coming. However, he can feel this one. He can feel this one coming, something that would have his life changing, and yet he still kept walking forward. It’s the Waynes. His family.

They wouldn’t do anything he didn’t like.

Bruce’s study was as dark and aesthetic as Y/N remembers. A dark oak wood desk, bookshelves, the laptop and monitors, and papers. Y/N rarely set foot in here, mainly because there was never a need to, but he remembers being young and playing hide-n-seek in here with Dick.

Bruce turned and gently cupped Y/N’s bruised face, turning it slightly to take in each discolored patch of skin and open wounds. Y/N smiled, “Bruce, it’s fine. I’m fine. You and everyone else are just being overdramatic.”

“Is that what all of this is? Us overreacting?” Y/N gave a nervous chuckle at Bruce’s tone, one he’s heard when the man was Batman.

“I mean, considering you broke into my house, that seems excessive.” Bruce released Y/N’s face and walked behind his desk, and motioned to a stack of papers.

“Y/N, if entering your home is considered excessive, then I don’t know how you are going to handle this.”

“Break in, Bruce. It was a break in, and what are you talking about?” Y/N picked up the paper, and quickly scanned the document. Bruce watched the color drain from Y/N’s face and horror take over those bright E/C eyes. They flickered from the top of the page back to the bottom, and then to Bruce and back to the paper.

Y/N’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form words he was desperate to say.

Wayne Enterprise Acquires L/N Industries

Bought. Bruce bought L/N Industries. Bruce bought the company from Y/N’s father, because Y/N isn’t the owner, and there is no way in hell that Y/N would have ever signed off on that. His mother’s company, now just a part of the Wayne monopoly.

“Wha-what is- Why- Bruce! Bruce, what the hell is this?” Eyes filled with betrayal and anger as Y/N glared at Bruce. The man sighed, “It is as it says. L/N Industries in now under Wayne Enterprise-”

“But why?! You’ve never shown any interest in the company.” Bruce wasn’t interested in L/N Industries. Wayne Enterprise was not a monopoly, and they didn’t buy companies unless that company was already going bankrupt. Bruce was interested in Y/N’s health, and vengeance.

“Don’t take it personally, because it's not at you.” Y/N rolled his eyes, “It sure feels like it. Bruce, you know what this company means to me, you can’t just–”

“Well I did.” Bruce met Y/N’s gaze head on, “The company is not in your name, you do not reap the profits, this acquisition was not a jab at you.” Y/N knows who it's a jab at, and he understands why Bruce is angry. However, it does not excuse the fact that this was a jab at the L/N family.

Y/N clenched his jaw, “There’s no way he just signed it over like that.” Bruce handed him another piece of paper and sure enough, there was his father’s signature. Y/N stared at the inked lines, wondering just how had Bruce gotten that signature so quickly.

“Blackmail really makes people move faster than the Flash.”

“Wha… what blackmail?” Bruce raised an eyebrow and Y/N closed his eyes in misery, “Bruce, I get it. I do. He’s not a good father, but you didn’t have to buy the company. He’s literally going to ret-”

“You and I both know he would never retire. You would be working to the bone for him while he reaps all the profit.” Y/N rolls his eyes, and opens his mouth to say something but Bruce cuts him off, “Do NOT roll your eyes at me! Y/N this is serious.”

Momentarily taken aback by the tone of voice, Y/N stared at a fuming Bruce. He processed the reaction and felt the heat in his stomach return, “Excuse you! You literally bought my family’s company, kind of if not really kidnapped me, and broke into my home! I have every right to be upset, let alone roll my eyes at you.”

“That place wasn’t your home and you know it.”

“Doesn’t change anything! That's like saying a break-in at a hotel room doesn’t count because the person doesn’t live in the hotel room.” Y/N could feel his heart rate pick up, and the reality of it all began setting in.

“Holy shit. Fucking hell Bruce.”

“Language.”

“Do not ‘language’ me! Bruce, what the actual hell! All of this is way out of proportion for what happened.” Bruce slammed his hands on his desk, making some papers fly and the cup holding his pens fell. Blue eyes filled with rage glared at Y/N, “You can’t even say what happened! He hit you, Y/N. He beat you like a dog, and animal abusers still go to jail. He’s getting off with only losing the company.

“And I know that those bruises are the only ones we do see!” Y/N glared at Bruce, fighting back tears and biting his lips. Bruce sighed, his shoulders deflating and a pained expression on his face. He walked around the desk and hugged Y/N, bringing his son close, “Y/N, I’m sorry. I am. You’ll still be running the company, and will have a final say in things. It's just… God, Y/N. Not hearing from you and then seeing you like that...” Bruce took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions, "It was terrifying, Y/N. How could I let you stay there when all of that was done to you?"

Y/N wrapped his arms around Bruce, ignoring the feeling of dread of doing so. He ignored how Bruce’s arms tightened around him, “Oh Y/N, please. Please stay here where you are safe.”

He didn’t want to admit that it sounded more of an order than a request. This was Bruce! His father in everything but blood and paper.

“Just… just please don’t do that again.”

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________

Not a whole lot of Yandere, but thats why there will be two parts! Not just one.

966 notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 21 days

Text

and they said, speak now

18+. mdni. smut. mentions of cheating. femreader!xeddie. no use of y/n!

a little second chance romance story wherein eddie is invited to your wedding, though he’s hopeful that it’ll never actually happen.

a/n: wanted to get this finished so i could start writing a follow up for too sweet (bc i love it and i love mean asshole eddie) so i hope it bridges some sort of gap while i write :p switches pov a lil bit but it’s all marked out 4 ya.

“-gettin’ married to who?” eddie spits, barreling into the living room with a mouthful of cereal.

steve looks up from the paper invite and shrugs, “mark?” mouthing a quiet i don’t know as robin looks between the two.

“and i’m invited?”

“i mean.. it says all of us so..” he looks up at eddie, “do you even want to go?” dubious at eddie’s overly keen questioning.

eddie’s bewildered that he’d even ask, “‘course we’re fucking going,” shaking his head, still gripping onto his bowl of cereal, “i didn’t even know she was datin’ anybody else.. what the fuck.”

robin shares a look with her best friend, thinking eddie hasn’t seen. he knows exactly what they’re not saying. it doesn’t exactly need to be spelled out for him.

perhaps eddie hadn’t ever really gotten over it. it being you leaving to new york for college, breaking up with him in the process.

maybe they were justified in their judgemental glances, it’d been years since you’d left. he should be over it by now. evidently, you’ve moved on. why hadn’t he?

but he wasn’t and now he’s not sure if he’ll ever be.

the five of them shovel into jonathan’s car, robin squished between eddie and steve in the back with their bags piled high in the trunk.

eddie stares out of the window, he had started to regret agreeing to go. his ex-girlfriend, whom he wasn’t exactly over, was getting married to some fuckhead he’d never met and now he had to go and wear a suit and pretend to be happy about it all.

“i still can’t believe she’s getting fucking married,” he grumbles into his fist.

robin grins, nudging her elbow into steve’s ribcage, “oh this going to be so much fun,” elated at his misery.

jonathan sighs quietly, throwing his head back against the seat and slyly turning the volume up so as to not hear any more of eddie’s whining.

there’d been months of it, so he’s not surprised.

eddie is fucking elated to reach the hotel, gawping at the grand exterior as they get out of the car, stretching their legs after the long trip.

“jeez,” robin utters, staring at the tall building with her mouth hung open, “at least she’s marrying rich, hey?” wiggling her brows at eddie’s less than excited face.

he doesn’t rise to it, ignoring her obvious attempts to get him riled up.

it’s even nicer inside, gold plated ornaments decorate the walls, outdated paintings of old people he didn’t care to know, joining them.

they’re in the process of checking in when a familiar voice comes from behind, a small, meek, “hey guys!”

it’s you.

they spin, sharing tired smiles as you stand looking horrifically awkward. like somehow you hadn’t shared years and years of history with every single person here.

everyone else gets a short, half hug, exchanging niceties while eddie waits patiently for his turn. he doesn’t think you’ll even acknowledge him.

but your eyes lock, that same sinking feeling that he felt all those years ago as he watched your car pull out of hawkins plagues his stomach.

“hey,” you nod, tense as you open your arms for a hug.

it’s more than he’d ever expected, now finding himself stuck, unable to embrace the situation. you’re exactly the same and yet he feels like he doesn’t recognise you. barely touched by the graces of age, still the same girl he was sure he still loved.

eventually he pulls himself together, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to pull you in.

fuck.

you even smell the same. the heavy vanilla scent of your shampoo wafts through the air, transporting him back in time to nights shared in his cramped room, talking about the future together and how you couldn’t wait to get out of hawkins.

it’s utterly ironic, and not to mention heartbreaking, to think about now.

“hi,” eddie musters, sounding as pathetic as he felt.

the others watch on in anticipation, expecting a screaming match only to be met with whatever the fuck this was. dancing around each other like two complete strangers.

“how.. uh, how was the drive?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers, the way you used to when you were nervous.

“long,” he smiles meekly.

there’s too much he wants to say, desperately wanting to just shake you and ask what the hell you’re doing getting married to someone who’s not him.

besides, four sets of eyes watch both of you eagerly, hoping for an argument or maybe the exact opposite.

“there you are!” a gruff voice bellows, coming out of the mouth of the most insufferable looking man eddie’s ever seen.

he walks over with his shit-eating grin, taking you away from eddie’s grasp, leaving an aching in his fingertips.

your brows shoot upward, sighing softly, “everyone, this is mark.. mark, these are my..” your eyes dip, unable to meet eddie’s gaze, “friends.”

mark’s hand extends towards eddie, grinning like a complete fool as he shakes it. “nice to meet you man! heard so much about you,” his grip tight, squeezing the tired bones in his hand.

eddie wonders if he’s asserting his dominance, if you’d told him who exactly he was. about all those years you spent as his girlfriend. about how he used to make you cum in two minutes. or perhaps all the times you swore that if you had to get married, it’d be to him.

eddie doesn’t count on it.

eddie waits. and he waits. and he waits.

pacing the floor of his room, contemplating if he truly had the nerve to stalk the halls to your room or if he’d have to sit here and regret it forever.

fuck it, he thinks. there’s no guarantee he’ll even knock on the door, he just needs to get out of here and at least try to.

eddie’s acutely aware that nothing he says to you will change your mind in fact, he thinks you’ll more than likely slam the door in his face.

but he’s gotta try.

- reader’s pov -

it’s a quiet knock, barely audible as you toss and turn.

you debate even answering, too caught up in your nerves to care about some bridesmaid complaining about her dress or your mother prattling on about the floral arrangements again.

but then they knock again, louder this time though it sounds more unsure, a hesitant wrap of the knuckles, pulling yourself from the comfort of your blanket to see what they wanted.

you hardly register who the person is before immediately wanting to slam the door in his face.

“what are you doing?” you hiss through the small gap in the door, noting that it was somewhere between 11 and midnight.

“i wanna talk,” eddie frowns, carefully wedging his foot between the door, as if you wouldn’t immediately notice.

“we don’t need to talk,” you refute, scowling at your batshit crazy ex.

he sighs, looking around the empty corridor, knowing he shouldn’t be here right now. “can we.. i just wanna talk.. that’s it,” his eyes wide and begging.

you take pity on him, you always did when he had that pathetic frown on his face. like a dejected puppy that needed you to cradle him.

something in your head screams out to just close the door, it’s a terrible idea and you know it.

alas, you pull it open a few more inches, giving him the chance to slide inside before it’s shut again, turning the lock immediately.

if anyone were to walk in, your relationship would be ruined, tomorrow would just be a waste of money and you’d be a social pariah in your circles.

“why didn’t you tell me that you were getting married?”

the nerve to ask that question like he deserved an explanation. you haven’t even seen the man in years and yet, he feels as if he’s owed something from you.

“i didn’t know i had to,” you shrug, standing a few feet away from him, hoping to keep the distance.

eddie scowls, brows knitted into a line across his forehead, “you don’t- i thought we were friends.. friends tell each other those things.”

“you haven’t seen me in years eddie!” raising your voice despite being surrounded by your friends and family. “what gives you the right to march in here and ask me that?” stepping closer with every word, taken aback by his sheer nerve.

his eyes harden, jaw tense, “you left me- you did that and then the next time i hear from you, it’s because you’re getting married? s’that not completely fucked up to you too?”

“i didn’t leave you! i went to college, like people our age are supposed to! it’s not my fault that you’d rather sit in jeff’s basement pretending to be a rockstar,” snarling your upper lip, hoping you’ll hit him right where it hurts.

if nothing else, it’s frustrating. eddie was always talking about his big dreams and how he was going to get out of hawkins once and for all, make something of himself and never look back.

but you got tired of waiting for that to happen. years and years of soon and i’m not ready’s had left you pretty hopeless for any kind of future with him.

he shakes his head, scoffing, “oh? so should i have followed you to new york? watched you change everything about yourself for some asshole?”

there’s a lump in your throat now and weirdly, not a speck of anger. at least not about his words for your fiancé. more so about his complete disregard of your feelings, the dreams you put on hold for him.

“i didn’t.. i didn’t change,” bottom lip trembling, “this is me eddie,” nostrils flaring as you skulk closer, “you just don’t know me anymore.”

“i know you better than he does,” he fires back, adams apple bobbing in his throat. a sincere, honest tone.

it only makes you more frustrated, the audacity to come here and act like this, the day before your wedding.

you laugh in his face, a maniacal cackle, “you’re deluded,” gathering all of your strength not to punch him in the face, “you should leave, before you embarrass yourself any more.”

he’s almost frantic now, grasping the air, “i’m not the one embarrassing myself here. the you i know would never want this.. what happened to that girl who promised to marry me? where’s she?”

“people change eddie! you clearly haven’t!” you hiss, prodding your finger into his chest, hoping you’ll somehow set him alight with your fingertip.

he grabs your hand, keeping it close to his heart as his frown sets in. “tell me- tell me that this is what you want, the big wedding and fucking mark and a coupl’a kids, tell me and i’ll leave,” downturned eyes, begging himself not to cry.

you want to scream, ferociously snatching your hand away from him before you turn away. sick to death of looking into his glossy chestnut eyes. loathing the feeling of your past flooding back into your brain.

a few years ago, you would’ve been certain that eddie was the one you were going to marry. marriage wasn’t something you were ever particularly interested in, your parents hadn’t been the best example. but if it had happened, it would’ve been nothing like this, maybe in the tiny chapel in hawkins, a couple years from now, a small, private ceremony with your friends and family. you’d be lying if you said you had never thought about it.

about what could’ve been.

somewhere, buried deep inside, you longed for it.

eddie doesn’t budge, hearing the sounds of his heavy breathing from behind. you can picture that stupid look on his face, pathetic and sullen as he waits for a fleck of hope.

you turn back, praying that you’ll have somehow found the strength to tell him to leave in the two seconds it takes to face him.

it doesn’t come, the lump in your throat dissipating only to be replaced with a fiery pit in your stomach.

and then a moment, where neither of you have the guts to speak any longer, in what feels like the most intense battle of eye contact you’d ever been a part of.

but it’s over as quickly as it started, both of you lurching forward at the same time, lips crashing together in a hungry kiss, finding the side of his head for leverage as his antsy hands grip your waist.

the rest is just a silent routine, one you two have been through a hundred times before.

your back crashes into the desk, pressed into the wood by his torso. a hand squeezing your thigh as you’re helped onto the surface.

the metal on your fourth finger aches, as if some higher power is attempting to intervene, to stop this mistake before it goes too far.

it’s dutifully ignored, spreading your legs to allow him between your soft thighs. the thin material of your shorts meant that you could feel everything. his cock jumping as it brushes against your heat, low grumbling into your mouth at the action.

his jacket slips from his shoulders and onto the floor, your soft hands running down the length of his arms, brushing against the tattoos you used to spend hours tracing.

eddie’s hands roam your body, between your thighs, tucking underneath the elastic of the shorts as your hips lift in unison, allowing him to pull them down.

his throat rumbles at your lack of underwear, rough denim pressed against your cunt, his erection demanding out of his jeans.

your fingers fumble with his jeans, hearing the low clink of his belt somewhere muddled between his grunting and your melodic pants.

the throbbing between your thighs becomes almost insatiable, finding your own release on the rough fabric of his jeans, sighing into his mouth, allowing his tongue to slip into yours instead.

cold fingers grip your thighs, lifting your legs so that they rest around his waist, clothed cock nudging against your heat, growling into your mouth.

your head jerks back, “my mom.. my mom’s next door..” you pant, fingers trailing over his lips, doing nothing to muffle his raspy groans.

“good,” eddie smirks, hurriedly tugging his boxers down beneath his balls, burying himself inside of your soaked cunt, “i never liked her.”

a strangled moan is all you manage in response, grabbing at the desk for a little leverage as his hips meet the back of your thighs. any anger you felt towards his insults towards your mother quickly float away, turning into static as he slides slowly in and out.

marvelling at the sight of your cunt once again envelopes around him. you’d missed that, his damn near infatuation with your pussy.

the wooden frame knocks against the wall, whatever shit you had compiled for the morning all comes tumbling down, clattering to the floor alongside your long mewls.

eddie near enough melts, fingers melding into one with your skin, filling your cunt to the hilt. a certain feeling that had never been replaced, only achieved by him and his undeniable love for your pussy.

your lips catch onto his, attempting to muffle his hoarse groans, hoping to to god that the walls were thick enough.

“missed you,” he murmurs, half into your mouth, the other vibrating against your chin as your lips connect in the most careless manner.

your eyes flutter shut, chest heaving, pressed to his as your fingers begin to loosen their grip on the desk. his pace unfaltering with utter desperation, an exhilaration he had chased for years, to no avail.

“fuck,” you whine, regretting the shaky word the second it slips out. one arm hooks around his neck, forehead resting against his as his hair begins to stick.

it’s so disgusting, so wracked with desire that you’re sure you’ll be thinking- feeling it for months.

eddie’s cock nudges against against the spot only he could ever find, his pubic bone catching against your clit. fuelling the inextinguishable fire in your stomach, only making it rise into your throat.

with every fervent thrust he’s grumbling something;

fuck, shit, love you, love you.

your legs tremble, exhausted as they sit around his zealous hips. naturally, they tighten, drawing him in closer, an incessant need to feel all of him all at once.

“you can’t.. not inside,” you pant, opening his eyes to meet his though they’re not on yours. staring starry eyed at the space between your bodies, watching as they collide in ways your heart had longed for.

he’s close, you can tell. choking on his breaths when you squeeze around him, signalling your own orgasm.

“fuck, i can’t-,” eddie howls, desperately pounding his cock into your quivering cunt, giving everything away for the last thirty seconds.

you cry out, toppling over the edge as your stomach all but bursts, the pleasure reaching every last nerve in your body. clinging to his neck with a white knuckle grip, clutching his clammy skin as your body turns to mush before him.

eddie just about manages to pull out, sliding between your slick folds before his stomach lurches, shooting thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, thighs and the desk.

your foreheads remain as one, gasping into the hot air that surrounds you.

finally, his eyes trail up toward yours, meeting with the most sorrowful look that a man who has just cum, could hold.

it’s as if reality sets in, untangling your legs to shove him away. harsh and untoward as he stumbles back, still reeling from his own orgasm.

“oh my god,” you mumble incoherently, “oh my god, i’m getting married tomorrow,” clenching your fist, shouting as if he were somehow unaware.

his silence is deafening, his release still clinging to your body as you jump from the wooden table, marching into the bathroom, swallowing the urge to cry.

eddie stands with his head hung low, belt still undone as you sanctimoniously barging back past him to redress yourself, muttering ferocious whispers to yourself.

“i’m getting married tomorrow,” you repeat, unwavering anger in your voice. undecided on whether you were telling him or yourself that fact.

“so you’re still gonna marry him?” eddie asks, a slight hint of optimism in his tone. he had reason to be, you suppose. anyone else would assume the same.

you swallow, “what else is there for me?”

getting married had been the next logical step. you had the job, the house, the sweet, timid guy that wouldn’t hurt a fly. why wouldn’t you marry him?

his face crumples, brows stitched together in confusion, “me?”

almost on instinct, your head shakes, smacking your palm into his shoulder, “no. not you. it’s not supposed to be you,” a certain sadness plaguing your tone, “it was never supposed to be you,” palm slapping into his chest.

eddie’s face falls, holding his jacket in his hands wishing you’d take it back, tell him you were lying and that you really did still love him.

buried somewhere under years of regret, you probably still did.

tears weep out of the corner of your eye, quickly wiped away with your trembling finger. “you need to leave,” eyes pointed to the floor, refusing to look at him any longer.

he sighs, hesitantly stepping around the mess you both had made and out of your peripheral view. slow steps, willing for your mouth to open and those three words to dance out of it.

the door clicks shut and you’re alone again. nauseous and wishing you had just let him stay, wanting nothing more than to be held in your insurmountable feelings of remorse.

you’ve barely slept, overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and indecision.

six years of work and making something of yourself had come horrifically crashing down in one night, one stupid, moronic mistake.

but was it really a mistake when your heart still aches and your lips still feel the traces of his.

a short knock breaks you from your trance, the noise you’d been dreading all night.

sarah. bright-eyed and stupidly excitable nature, ready for your wedding day.

“woah,” she remarks, eyes darting around the room you’re just now realising you forgot to clean, “crazy night?” she smirks, eyeing the bottles and pens that had fallen from the desk to the floor.

“oh,” you smile, bile rising in your throat, “i’m just..” clambering for an excuse, “clumsy.”

she scoffs, dumping her bag on the unmade bed, “you don’t have to lie to me,” smile growing, “if you and mark wanna.. break traditions then i’m all for it.”

her wilful innocence makes you feel all the more worse. you’re supposed best friend was none the wiser, bouncing around with a proud smile, ready for your wedding day.

- eddie’s pov -

steve notices something’s up immediately.

dark rings accompanying eddie’s eyes after he had gone missing for hours last night.

“you good?” steve’s hand thwacks against his back, assuming eddie’s manner was all to do with the fact that you were getting married and not that only a few hours ago, he was telling you that he still loved you while you were having sex.

the ride to the venue is quiet, which everyone appreciates, having prepared for a litany of complaints and whining.

the church is even more extravagant than the hotel, resembling one of those castles he’d seen in a fairytale book.

he wants that to make him feel better, that at least he wasn’t the one wasting all of this money on a stupid wedding, but it doesn’t.

because irregardless of how much money you were spending, you were still marrying someone else.

sure, it wouldn’t be a particularly honest nor holy marriage but it’d be a marriage nonetheless. something he would never have with you. no matter how hard he tried.

they file into the pew, sitting slumped against the varnished wood as everyone chatters around him.

concerned heads fly around, the groomsmen rushing up the aisle as they’re beckoned by your bridesmaids.

eddie sits up, looking around at the frantic bridesmaids who were desperately trying to get the pastor’s attention. something’s wrong. he can feel it in his bones.

he throws up a quick two with his fingers to steve before sliding out of the pew, ducking his head down the aisle as he searches for you.

slipping past the worried wedding party, opening a multitude of doors in search of you. hoping that you’d at least made it to the church, that you were okay.

he doesn’t expect to find you in here, holding onto your mouth, mascara stains dripping down your cheeks, curled into the corner with your shoulders shaking. eddie slips in, shoving the broom in between the door handle, ensuring that no one else could find the pair of you.

you spend a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes until you squeak, “what’re you doing?” the most soul crushing tone that makes his heart ache.

“i came to find you,” he says, simply.

because he would, he’d do it in every life.

your palm smears the black stains around your cheek, scoffing at his words. “you shouldn’t have.. i’m fine,” trying to convince yourself more than you were him.

“you don’t look fine.”

your bottom lip trembles, threatening to spill over again. evoking a harsh stab of guilt through his chest. eddie surges toward you, placing his palms over yours, “you don’t have to do this.. we can leave right now,” he assures, searching your eyes. he’d whisk you away in a heartbeat, you didn’t even have to ask. just give him that look.

your nostrils flare, a wail constricted to the back of your throat, trying hard not to alert the hundreds of wedding guests sat just a couple hundred meters away. the dark light of the closet does well to accentuate your tearful eyes, his heart aching with every sniffle, every quietened sob that falls from your lips.

then, you growl, rather forcefully slapping his chest, “this is your fault,” fingers grabbing onto his suit jacket, “why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” frustration seeping out of your words.

eddie doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that would make you feel better.

so he stands in silence, letting you treat him like your verbal punching bag.

“i can’t do it,” you cry, burying your face into his neck, “i can’t.. marry him.”

he nods, stood just before you in this cramped closet, “you don’t have to,” assuredly grabbing your sodden cheeks, streaks of black stain his palms, “we can go.. anywhere you want, right now.”

promising the world because really, it was all he had to offer.

he wasn’t rich, hadn’t figured out how to get the fuck out of hawkins yet but he did know that he loves you and he’d do anything to prove that.

you swallow, averting your eyes to the sparkling ring on your hand, curled into the fabric of his jacket. “okay,” flicking back to his eyes, it’s so simple and yet it knocks the breath from his lungs.

nothing really registers, eddie had planned for more bargaining, certain that regardless of his pleas, you’d still end up walking down that aisle, promising yourself to another man.

“really?” he asks, clarifying for both himself and for you. there was still time for you to pull yourself together and go get married, he wasn’t going to deny you that.

“really,” you nod frantically, “i’ll go anywhere,” tugging at the collar of his shirt, “anywhere with you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things

515 notes · View notes

help-itrappedmyself · 2 months

Text

Dead On Main AU Part 4

Masterpost

Jason listens carefully to Jazz’s half of the conversation, but Jazz seems to be mostly listening. Jazz says he’s taking him to Nasty for dinner, which Jason can’t say he’s excited about. He doesn’t know if Nasty is supposed to be describing the food or the place. Either way it is not comforting that whatever Nasty is, it is somehow a better source of food than his soulmate’s house.

Eventually Jazz hands the phone back to him.

“Everything good?” Jason asks.

“Yeah, your dad, Dick, and Tim are going to be driving me over, but It’s a long drive so Jazz will get you dinner and then you can do whatever. I have a gaming system, and you’re welcome to use my bed. If you need help finding clothes, or really with anything, then Jazz will help you.”

“Got it.” Long drive with B, Dick, and Tim. They’re all going to interrogate him immediately. While he’s trapped in a box with them for hours. “Hey, my family is really nosy and they will pry and they have no emotional cues so they will not know when to stop. Just… Tell them if they’re bothering you, and you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.” Jason doesn’t know who will be worse in this scenario. Bruce is going to interrogate him for literally everything, Dick is probably going to be all relationships and feelings, Tim is a nice in-between which just means he’ll probably support any and all interrogating.

“Same goes for you. Jazz is studying to be a psychologist, and my entire family forgets that we’re not all test subjects for whatever they’re working on. Mom and Dad with their gadgets, and Jazz with her… studying and analyzing you. There are no boundaries.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that concept.” Jason chuckled.

“Well, given the circumstances I’d say if we can survive each other’s families that’s probably a pretty good sign.”

Kid is probably right. Fate and everything.

Jazz goes out to clear a path to the door, making sure there are no weapons to run into. When she gets back she leads Jason out, but when they get to the ground floor Jason is grabbed.

“Happy Birthday Dann-o!” The person holding him is tall. Very tall compared to Danny, and taller than Jason in his regular body. He has black hair and it looks like he's wearing a jumpsuit. After squeezing to the point where Jason couldn't breath for a second Jazz gets the man to put him down.

“Dad, this isn't Danny right now.”

“What do you mean princess, of course it is!”

A woman comes around the corner to stand next to the man, she is also in a jumpsuit but she has Jazz’s red hair.

“Guys, it's his sixteenth birthday.” So Danny's parents remember his birthday but not how old he is? Could be that they’ve forgotten the significance of a person’s sixteenth birthday, but given it should be an important day in a child’s life, they should have remembered.

“We know it's his birthday dear.” The woman comes over to give Jason a hug as well, but this one is less painful. And she's tall too, Jason is not used to feeling this short anymore.

“Mom, Dad, this is Jason. Danny’s soulmate.” The both of them just blink for a second. Jason, this is Drs. Jack and Maddie Fenton, Danny’s parents.”

“Nice to meet you both.” Jason gets out.

“Well, this is wonderful!” Dr. Fenton-Maddie says. “Figures Danny would be the younger one. Are you going to be here for dinner?”

Jason glances over at Jazz.

“No, you told us that you would be busy, so we already made plans.” Jazz sidesteps the invitation. Jason couldn’t tell if that was true or a lie to get him out of the situation. Would they tell their son that they were too busy to have dinner with him on his birthday? He wants to think the answer is no. “Shame Danny will be missing out, but we’ll save his presents for him.”

“Alright, well you kids have fun then!” Maddie and Jack left as quickly as they came, rambling about something that Jason could not understand.

“They didn’t want to know where Danny is? Who he’s with? Where we’re going? Anything?” Jason turned to Jazz who had a pinched look on her face.

“Neither of us get up to much trouble, they’ve trusted us for a while now.”

“Trust him to be magically transported who-knows-where?” Jason is almost stupefied by the utter lack of regard for Danny’s well-being. He is insulted on his soulmate’s behalf. “He could be in another country for all they know! They didn’t even ask!”

Jazz nods. “Best not to think about it. Everything is turning out alright anyways. Now come on, let’s get dinner.”

Jason is seething, but doesn’t think it will do much good to argue with her here so he decides to calm down. He startles a little when he realizes how easy it is to calm down in this body. Just decide to, and then move on. None of the lingering churning in his gut or fog in his mind.

He frowns as he follows Jazz out the door, hoping that Danny’s not having too hard a time in his body.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #my writing #fanfiction #red hood #danny phantom #soulmate au

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rollingsins · 8 months

Text

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass.

New York City is expensive.

College is expensive.

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city.

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces.

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks.

First it was the dishes.

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks.

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major.

It had nothing on the men.

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm.

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men.

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate).

But really, you’re not in the position to complain.

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least.

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign.

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.”

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.”

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way.

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.”

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised.

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless.

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat.

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring.

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here.

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.”

Tara’s tense against you.

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?”

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh.

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.”

And then it’s your turn to stare.

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones.

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes.

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated.

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour.

The conversation is over.

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly, it’s the only thing you can think about.

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later.

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn.

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered.

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food.

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard.

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?”

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.”

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm.

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.”

You furrow your brow.

“You think?”

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?”

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish.

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.”

Liv shoots him a look.

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.”

Chad’s eyes widen.

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!”

Liv gives you a look.

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.”

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits.

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself.

You’re starting to see it.

Quinn liked her conquests.

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara?

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend.

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play.

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests.

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn.

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago.

But it’s different now.

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.”

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear.

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

“Babe?” Tara prompts.

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true.

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder.

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms.

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point.

“And you hate gore movies.”

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie.

Tara furrows her brow.

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?”

You bite your lip.

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her.

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist.

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?”

Tara frowns.

“No weirder than usual.”

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.”

Tara shoots you a look.

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.”

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.”

It placates you for only a moment.

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being.

It’s just…

Quinn is pretty. So pretty.

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else?

And then the dread is back.

“It’s just… Liv said-“

Tara groans.

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.”

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed.

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips.

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.”

You do know that.

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom.

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to.

It doesn’t work.

Because of course, why would it work?

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend.

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described.

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.”

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way.

You fold your arms, unhappily.

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.”

Tara draws back, clearing her throat.

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.”

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe.

You know better.

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse.

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent.

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.”

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara.

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully.

“Sure.”

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started.

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored.

You’d been wrong.

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more.

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end.

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst.

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her.

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her.

And those sometimes become all you can think about.

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship.

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do.

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead.

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches.

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket.

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos.

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy.

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl.

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.”

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers.

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant.

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you.

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat.

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?”

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy.

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder.

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening.

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning.

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend.

It has to stop.

The solution?

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice.

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol.

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best.

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it.

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly.

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth.

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues.

It makes you stew.

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment.

But you resist.

Let her think she’s winning.

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet.

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory.

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction.

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?”

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand.

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes.

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep.

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.”

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed.

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it.

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates.

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner.

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused.

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop.

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.”

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.”

Quinn stares a moment.

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.”

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat.

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.”

Tara peers over at you, a little confused.

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it.

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders.

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers.

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.”

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering.

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips.

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy.

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.”

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing.

Bless her.

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend.

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.”

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation.

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes.

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.”

Tara nods.

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?”

Tara tilts her head.

“No.”

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left.

Made sure you’d seen it.

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep.

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly.

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.”

Tara frowns.

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed.

Then, she pouts.

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.”

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns.

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.”

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate.

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.”

Tara bites her lip.

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face.

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?”

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later.

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight.

You frown as Tara enters the room.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.”

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist.

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.”

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?”

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.”

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss.

“I love you. Only you.”

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn.

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together.

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim.

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her.

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.”

You sigh, unhappily.

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.”

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you.

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.”

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.”

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.”

And so you do.

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure.

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door.

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?”

You smile and kiss her.

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.”

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.”

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly.

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?”

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.”

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter.

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.”

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife.

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again.

Quinn looks over, catching your eye.

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her.

And then, she smiles.

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.”

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait.

And you fall for it.

Hook, line and sinker.

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red.

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?”

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking.

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition.

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair.

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you.

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-”

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?”

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!”

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances.

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her.

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might.

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?”

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor.

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.”

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.”

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.”

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.”

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Quinn blinks at her.

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.”

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it.

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again.

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.”

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing, her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her.

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens.

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.”

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her.

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?”

Quinn nods, solemnly.

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.”

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-”

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo.

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.”

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features.

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.”

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing.

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.”

“Baby-” Tara starts.

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.”

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss.

She’s trying to settle you down.

It works.

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.”

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“

Tara shushes you with another kiss.

Then she draws back, her voice soft.

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.”

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.”

Sam might mind.

But it’s really the least of your worries.

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest.

Tara squeezes your shoulders.

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.”

She eyes you, warily.

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.”

You frown.

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.”

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone.

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight.

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout.

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up.

You just want her gone.

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump.

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open.

And then you hear it.

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities.

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring.

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick.

You know that grunt.

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion.

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it.

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door.

But what you see isn’t what you expect.

You blink.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?”

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out.

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real.

But it’s very real.

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does.

The sound of your voice is her escape.

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble.

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?”

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.”

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks.

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Quinn’s breathing heavily.

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two.

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.”

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next.

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.”

Quinn doesn’t move.

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.”

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you.

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse.

She shoots you an angry glare.

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.”

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut.

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her.

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.”

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.”

She’s quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.”

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers.

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.”

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…”

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering.

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.”

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest.

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.”

“Oh.” You say with a frown.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.”

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.”

Tara hums. She leans in close against you.

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.”

Tara wrinkles her nose.

You laugh.

Lean down to kiss her, deep.

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think.

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

#ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #quinn bailey #mine #fanfic #all hers #jenna ortega x reader

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c0llisiion · 5 months

Text

NUMB TO THE FEELING — j.jk

♡pairing : jjk + fem!reader

♡: not proof read, exs, idol!jungkook x idol!reader , fwb kinda? , smut , mutual masturbation - lmk if i missed any!

W/C : 1,162

Pt.2 , Pt.3

A/N : SORRY 4 DISAPPEARING AGAINNNNN! i js got too busy guys 😣😣😣😣 rqs are open! Send in your rqs and prompts ily <33 anyways here is a jk fic i wrote instead of finishing my other jk fic :3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

2 months. Its been 2 months since you broke it off with jungkook. It was all over the news, a hot topic for the k media. ‘BTS’s Jungkook and Y/G/N’s y/n ends 4 year relationship’, was still trending on naver. It happened so quickly. Knets are already placing the blame on you for the breakup, as they view you as a mean rebel idol who breaks hearts and messes around. A face of disgust was plastered on your face as you scroll through the endless amounts of hate comments knets put under the articles.

“Wow I always knew she was a bitch”

“She definitely cheated on him with another idol lol”

“What do you expect when you date a wh*re? Jungkook should have never dated her”

“She ruined his image”

Back and forth, people were calling you degrading names and putting Jungkook in a good light. They said all of this while not knowing a single thing about how your breakup unfolded. It was mutual. You both started getting busy with schedules. That simple. Maybe a few disagreements here and there. Maybe a few trust issues but the main point was it was mutual and you both broke up because of schedules. You got tired of the same comments and decided to turn off your phone but you got a new notification.

baby star candy 🤍

Hey

Tf is he doing at this hour?

Y/n

???

baby star candy 🤍

Is it okay if i come over?

Classic jungkook. Getting straight to the point. You stared at the text for a while not realising that you were leaving him on seen.

My baby star candy 🤍

Helloooooo?????

Its fine if you dont want me to

Y/n

Yes. Quick.

You sent your reply before his second text got to properly load. And there you were. Your phone turned off, biting your nails as you waited for jungkook.

It didn't take him a lot of time. Reaching your place in under 7 minutes and 13 seconds. You heard your doorbell and you immediately rushed to the door. You stood at the door for some time, avoiding the impression that you were eagerly anticipating his arrival.

You opened the door and see the tall bulky black haired man with his calvin klein hoodie and grey shorts. You stared at him before he brought you back to reality by snapping his fingers. You let him in before locking the door. You grabbed him by his wrists and took him upstairs to your room.

He quickly settled in your bed letting out a deep sigh, Relaxing and stretching his limbs out onto the bed. His arm was tucked behind his head as he patted the empty space next to him with half lidded eyes. You rolled your eyes before snuggling with him. Your tv was on and playing a random tv show you put almost an hour ago, forgetting to it turn off. You sighed and relaxed into his arm. The silence was comfortable. Jungkook was playing with the hems of shorts and you with the drawstrings of his shorts. You knew where this would lead to.

His hands started slowly massaging your thighs and ass in a comforting way. Its like he knew you were sad. And he did. “Im sorry” he spoke up. You looked up at him. His eyes were focused on the tv infront. “Im sorry about those comments. I should have said somethin’.” He said finally looking down at you. You shook your head and nuzzled into him closer “dont be. Its not your fault. Tbh i really dont gaf.” He chuckled at your attitude. He always liked your idgaf attitude. That’s what made him ask you out. “So you are not sad?” He asked his hands trailing up your shirt, cold fingers resting under your tits. “Hmm i was but then there is no reason for me to be. Maybe we should upload one of our sextapes to show those bitchy knets and completely appall them..” you giggled thinking about their reaction. Jungkook sighed and chuckled. “Yeah? Which one? Our old ones or the one we are gonna make rn?” His cold fingers squeezed your bare tits and tugged on your hard nipples. You hissed at the feeling. He grabbed your hand using his other hand and started using yours to rub himself through his shorts. He let out a soft groan throwing his head back. You bit your lip as you felt his hand lower into your shorts, quickly taking your sensitive bud in between his fingers, tugging it gently. You gasped and held onto his wrists as he continued abusing your bud. He was growing harder and harder because of your hands and the unholy sounds you let out every time he flicked your clit. You put your hands into his shorts and wrapped your fingers around his dick. Your movements were restricted by his shorts which opted you to pull his dick completely out. You stared at it. Oh how much you missed that monster. “Quit staring baby..” you felt yourself melt as he inserts two fingers into your sopping hole. A loud squelch was heard when he started fingering you. Your hands lazily worked up and down his shaft. Small spurts of precum already leaking out of his red tip. You picked up your pace and so did he. You twisted your wrists around his tip. You knew how sensitive he was there and continued. His eyes were squeezed shut as soft moans left his mouth. He started choking on them as he felt your hands squeeze around his length. God the way you had this man under your control with Just your hands was insane. He was quick to return the favour as two more fingers were added. His thumb rested on your clit rubbing it in circles furiously as he fucked your cunt with his long fingers. Loud noises accompanied by yours and his moans were the only sounds heard in the room. Your vision went white as you finally reached your end. Squirting all over his hands and wetting your shorts as well as your sheets. You let out choked out moans and your back arched off of the bed.

“Attagirl…” jungkook said with furrowed eyebrows as he kept finger fucking you. Your hand movements got sloppy which prompted jungkook to thrust into your hands. You picked up pace which made jungkook stiffen. You knew his orgasm was close from the his facial expressions and his voice. You stared at his face as you watch your ex boyfriend come undone under your grasp. He let out a final gasp before cumming all over your hands. You slowed down your movements finally letting go of his softening cock before bringing your fingers to your mouth, licking all his salty cum clean, staring deeply into his brown eyes.

Only you had him like this. No other woman will never come to your level ever.

A/n : HEHEHE sex tape part 2? 🤭🤭🤭🤭 ALSO SORRY FOR THE USAGE OF BABY STAR CANDYAJJEKAJWJA I JS HAD TOOOOOO

#bts reactions #jungkook smut #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook reaction #jungkook headcanons #bts x reader #fem reader

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webslingingslasher · 11 months

Note

thinking about getting jealous of someone flirting with frat!peter at a party and just going to sit on his lap in a “silently marking my territory” way

i just know he loves when you get jealous, he totally thinks it’s hot.

You couldn’t decide who you hated more, Peter, or the tall blonde talking to him.

Flipping her hair back as she laughed, bending towards him as she smiled, her hand reached down to grab his arm, you almost seized. Almost like he knew her plan, Peter raised his arm at the last minute to adjust his snapback.

You don’t know what’s so funny but apparently, Peter is. Downing the rest of your drink you lean against the wall and watch, something tugging at your stomach when your boy smiles at something she says. He’s not supposed to react, he’s supposed to be bored and push her away to come find you.

The third time she tried to touch him she made contact, her hand rubbing and squeezing at his bicep. Trying to read his face, to see if he liked it or was trying to escape. He looked like he tolerated it, more focusing on his drink. You clenched your jaw the longer she lingered, she stepped closer and her hand drifted to his forearm.

You felt pure rage, doesn’t she know he’s yours?

If she doesn’t, you’ll make it known.

The very second her hip bumped the edge of the couch and she rested her weight you stomped right over, approaching Peter and seeing red you tugged his right arm up and sat right down on his lap. Your quick movements caught him off guard for a moment, but when he saw that you were the one sitting on him his whole face lit up. The dim half sided conversation with the blonde falling flat, you however, couldn’t let it go.

“Hey, trou-” His words cut short by you grabbing his face and pressing your mouth to his. A surprised hum pulled from his throat, neither one of you the type to make out on the couch. You opened your mouth into his and pulled at his shirt collar.

Peter gripped your hip and cupped your face, pulling away slightly to breathe, you wouldn’t allow him. You’re going to make it abundantly clear he was yours and yours only, you tugged him back back to you, giving a bruising kiss and trialing to his jaw and the spot right where his jawline and neck met.

“Trouble,” Peter's hand placed on your ribcage, he’s never seen you so willingly affectionate in the middle of a party and you weren’t even drunk. You won’t stop your attack, ghosting your lips down his neck and lightly sucking at his collarbone. A hum escapes Peter as he gives you more access, then he remembers where he is, he’s quick to stop it.

Physically moving your mouth off his he breathes deeply, “you gotta stop.”

You look to the side of the couch, the girl long gone. A satisfied smile rested over your lips, hopefully you made it extremely clear he was yours, and she should really keep her hands to herself.

Peter follows your eyes and clicks his tongue, his hand cups your face, making you look at him.

“Were you jealous?” A cocky grin, like he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.

You scoff, “of her? No way.” He didn’t miss your shifty eyes, bringing his hands down to intertwine yours together.

“No, I think you were. Throwing yourself on me and marking your territory.”

Huffing you whine at him, “she should know you’re mine! You’ve made it clear to every guy in here I’m off limits, can’t I do the same?”

“Oh, you can, and you absolutely just did.”

You’re not sure if he finds it cringy or cute, you feel shy and look around the room. Focusing on a couple against the wall, sometimes when you see a couple look at each other like that, it makes your stomach tighten and your heart lurch. What you and Peter have is special, but more than anything you want the label and commitment, the joy of him opening up to you and sharing his heart.

Something you’re not sure you’d ever get, he keeps dodging the ‘do you ever think about us being more?’ question. Too scared to push it, you didn’t want to lose him entirely. That’s why it’s so important for other girls to stay away, he can’t know what else is out there, what he’s missing by being with you. It’s too easy for him to leave you.

Peter follows your gaze and feels his heart tug, he can almost hear your thoughts. Without second thought he pulls you so you’re right against his chest, arms wrapping around your waist.

“I think it’s cute you’re so possessive, it makes me feel very wanted.”

You rest your palms on the back of his hands and dig your fingertips into the spaces between his fingers, resting your head on his shoulder and turning your neck to look up at him when you talk.

Sighing, “what happens when you have a hotter, funnier, better than me in every way girl walk up to you, I mean, there’s nothing tethering us together.”

Peter knows what you want him to say.

“I know it’s not the kind you want, but I am one hundred percent committed to you.”

It’s the same dodging he always does, what if you flip the script, what if you leave him?

“But what does that mean?” Groaning the words. Peter throws his head back on the couch, he whines out a ‘no’, it’s like pulling teeth.

“I know you hate the ‘B’ word but c’mon, at least give me something. Anything, a crumb even.”

Taking a deep breath and pulling his head up he places a kiss on your shoulder. He brings your arms up to cross them over your chest, he can give you something, he just needs to get the words out his mouth.

“C’mon, trouble. You should know by now you get everything you want.”

A promise of commitment, suddenly you’re very thankful for the blonde, she pushed forward more in one night than you have in two months.

You hum happily, “but do I?”

“Got me, didn’t you?”

Nuzzling into his neck you press a kiss, your words come out sing-songy, “if you say so.”

“I know so.”

#peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #frat!peter #my writing

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macsmoods · 11 months

Note

can I request a hobie brown x fem! spider person and they kinda adopt miles and gwen. They see them and they’re like “yep these are our kids now.”

FOUND FAMILY

Hobie Brown

Summary: You and Hobie have been together for about 6 months now. When Miguel introduces everyone to the new recruits there’s an immediate liking between the 4 of you. Soon you and Hobie find yourselves becoming protective.

not edited—requests:open ——————————————————————— •“I’m excited. It been awhile since we got new recruits” you said excitedly walking to the conference room. You hands were locked together as you swung them back and fourth.

“Me to. Hopefully there not jack asses like the last to.” you nodded in agreement as he finished talking.

You flashed Miguel a smile which he, obviously, didn’t return. You sat down next to Hobie. You leg bounced up and down nervously as you waited for miguel to begin.

“Calm down darling.” hobie said placing a hand on your knee. Although it had been half a year of being together he still found simple ways to make you blush.

“Alright let’s begin.” miguel yelled out. “As you know we have 2 new recruits. They will be treated with respect and won’t be treated indifferently. Understood?” he said looking at Hobie.

“He touched my hair alright. What i did was in the right. Plus he only fractured his wrist, nothing worse” a hobie explained hand in the air in defense.

Miguel rolled his eyes before beginning again. “Alright please give a warm welcome to Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy.” Everyone watched as they walked in.

Gwen was short and had shaved part of her head. It seemed it had been died with different colors. Miles seemed tall enough with a black and red suit.

You watched as Miles gave a timid wave seeming nervous while Gwen smiled confidently.

“Ok go sit down.” Miguel said in a bored tone. You waved them over to the seats next to you.

They walked over sitting. “Hi i’m y/n and this is my boyfriend Hobie.” you said extending your hand.

They both shook it smiling back. “It’s nice to meet you.” gwen said. You took your focus back to miguel. You grabbed Hobies hand with a smile as you sat next your new friends. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•“Gwen! Get down from there people are staring!” you scolded as the blonde stepped off the table. “It’s not a joke Gwen you could get hurt.” Gwen and Miles laughed as you and Hobie glared.

“ok mother dearest.” gwen retorted sarcastically.

“I swear they never listen.” you whispered to Hobie. He grabbed your hand squeezing it.

“It’s ok darling. It’s just a phase.” you smiled at that. Quickly it was wiped from your face as you heard a gag.

Miles and Gwen were faking vomiting. “Ok guys real mature.” Hobie said.

“Bye mom. Bye dad.” They said leaving the table.

“Get back here now!” Hobie yelled. You gripped his hand as they walked away. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ • “What were you two even thinking!” you said slamming your hands on the desk. “First you leave this dimension without telling us an then you show up at a fight you were told not to be at by multiple people.” you yelled.

“You could have gotten hurt, or worse killed. So not only would you cause great grief to me and y/n you would also be causing a huge disruption in your dimension!” Hobie yelled.

Gwen scoffed at that. “Would you like to say something?” you snarled.

“This is bullshit! You aren’t are parents so stop acting like it. We are adults who can make are own decisions.” Gwen yelled. “Cmon miles we’re leaving.” They both stood up.

“No i don’t think so! Get the fuck back here!” you yelled but they were already out the door and down the hall. “fuck” you whispered.

Hobie pulled you into a hug kissing your head. Hot tears spilled on your cheeks. “Are we really that bad Hobie?” you whimpered.

“No baby. It’ll take some time before they realize why we’re here. We may not be there real parents but they need someone to take care of them here.” hobie said.

He leaned down attaching your guys lips. “Cmon we have to get to the meeting.” you sighed.

You walked down the hall making it to Miguel’s office. Both you and Hobie stood in. the corner ready to listen.

“There’s a new anomaly!” miguel’s voice echoed through the office. All the spiders went quiet. “For this mission I will need Y/n, Hobie, Gwen, Miles, and Peter. B. That is all. The following people will be debriefed by me. Others please make your way to Lyla for further instruction.”

Your squad walked towards Miguel as he sat atop at his desk. The tension was high as you watched Gwen and Miles move further from you and a hobie.

“There being jackasses. Don’t let them bother you.” Hobie leaned down and whispered. You smiled as Miguel began.

“This new anomaly is one we have seen only few times. The plan is simple. Take it down. We leave right now.” at that Miguel stepped into the portal. Miles and Gwen quickly followed leaving you, Hobie and Peter entering last.

Immediately you saw them already fighting. Quickly running you began to bring civilians to safety. Miguel and Peter could handle the anomaly.

You and Hobie worked together swinging grabbing anyone they could bringing them to safety. Gwen and Miles were doing the same, well you hoped they were.

You noticed a small child in the middle of it all scared. You swung and ducked grabbing him by his waist lifting him into the air. You found a safe place where people could help him.

Running back to the scene you noticed it had quieted down.

“damn that was a quick one.” you commented walking up to Hobie. His eyes were glossed over. “Hey what’s wrong hun.” you looked in his direction to see Peter and Miguel trying to move a bus.

“Hey what’s going on.” you yelled running over. You attached webs attempting to help.

“Gwen. Miles. Bus.” miguel muttered.

“no, no , no!” you yelled. You pulled and pulled Hobie joining. “God damnit you stupid kids!” you’d creamed. With one last pull the bus flew out of the way.

You and Hobie ran towards them pulling rubble off them. “Miles, Geen cmon let’s wake up ok. Your gonna be okay. It all gonna be fine.” Hobie pleaded shaking them. Your eyes blurred as you watched.

“Y/n, Hobie.” Gwen choked out.

“Oh my poor girl!” you cried throwing yourself around her. “Oh Miles!”you yelled embracing him as he sat up. Hobie wrapped his arms around you guys as well.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry i’m a horrible person. All the shit i said. We really do see you as our parents. We need you guys.” Gwen cried.

“shhhh it’s gonna be ok. We are all ok.” Hobie whispered hugging everyone even tighter. ———————————————————————

Authors note

This was so cute to write. Such a fun request hopefully i delivered it well. Should i do any other fandom one shots? ( ex. obx,marvel,etc.)

sincerely,

macsmoods🌊🫧

#across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #hobie brown #miguel o'hara #miles molares #miles morales x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #hobie brown x reader #gwen stacy x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown fluff

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luvyeni · 6 months

Text

❛1-800-SERVICE ME❜ ( z. chenle )

p. ceo!chenle x toplessmaid!reader w. 2.6k+

— 𖦹 warnings. small age gap ( reader is 23 and chenle is 26 ), fem!reader, oral ( m. receiving ), unprotected sex

— 𖦹 ( instead of giving chenle his normal maid cleaning services his assistant gives him a surprise for his birthday ) !

Chenle was a busy man —being the CEO of the top electronic company in Seoul, he didn’t have time to do things, like clean his condo himself, which is why he got his assistant and friend jaemin to schedule maids' services to come do it for him.

“Happy birthday boss man.” Jaemin met him at the elevator, his coffee in his hand. “How are you feeling this morning, the big 26.” He took the cup from the boy, taking a sip. “it’s a regular day for me, meetings, answering calls, meeting with investors.” He said as they walked through the office.

“Yeah, but now you’re a year older.” Jaemin followed behind him into the office. “So i’m closer to thirty, big whoop.” He sat in his chair. “Such a downer, anyways what are you doing later, for your birthday?”

“I’m going home jaemin, that’s all I want to do.” He said, it wasn’t that he didn’t like to party, but he was always so busy, and the only thing he wanted was to get off early and go home and rest. “I want to order some food, drink a cup a whiskey and then crash in my bed.”

“No fun.” Jaemin said, “You’re gonna die alone at this rate.” Chenle shrugged. “Jaemin go prepare for the meeting and leave me alone.” He spoke. “Just trying to help.” The boy said. “That is helping, go.”

“Fine, fine, i’m going.” He said making his way out the door, only to turn around. “What now?” Chenle sighed. “I just wanted to tell you that the maid service you like was closed down, so I chose a new one, they’ll be over later today.” He nodded looking at his computer. “Good, now go.”

Chenle finished his day early, most of his meetings were canceled or rescheduled — so why not get out of here. “Going home early boss?” jaemin asked. “Yup, i’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, jaemin yelled before he got on the elevator. “don’t forget, the maids' services will be there later on today!” Chenle didn’t notice the mischievous smirk that was evident on his assistant's face.

Chenle got home, sitting his briefcase down on the kitchen table — making his way into his bedroom to change his clothes, exchanging his black Prada suit, into some comfortable sweats and a white tee short.

He found a nice Chinese restaurant, picking up his phone, ordering his favorites, it would be an hour and a half wait but he was willing to wait, it would give him enough time to pour himself a drink and wind down some.

He set off the the kitchen, pouring himself his most favorite expensive whiskey in a glass with a huge ice cube, taking a sip, humming in delight — this was looking like his best birthday in a while, just peace and quiet.

His peace and quiet was soon disrupted by his buzzer going off. “That was fast.” He said, “I thought it would be an hour and a half wait.” He pressed the intercom button. “Hello?” He spoke through the microphone. “Oh hello.” A soft voice came through the intercom. “You can leave it there, someone will be down to pick it up.”

You were confused, “Are you not Zhong Chenle?” you were sure this was the address, had you gotten it wrong? “T-the maids services.” Chenle forgotten about that. “Oh yeah, i’m sorry about that.” He hit the button. “You may come up.”

This was a nice apartment, you’ve only been in this line of work for a few months, but most of your clients were rich so you’ve seen a lot of nice houses and apartments — but this was the nicest you’ve ever seen, this guy must’ve been really important.

You made your way to the apartment, sitting all your supplies down, knocking on the door. “Coming.” You heard his voice, then the door unlocking, swinging open revealing a tall guy, he was cute, dressed in the sinful, grey sweats, white tee shirt combo. “Hello.” He spoke.

“Oh h-hi.” You waved, “Mr.Zhong?” you asked, he smiled. “Call me chenle, come in.” You whispered his first name, picking up all your supplies, following him into the apartment. “You can start in here.” He pointed to the kitchen. “Okay.” You said, sitting the supplies down, reaching for your black trench coat, untyping the belt, revealing your baby pink lingerie.

“The bedroom isn’t that bad, i mean I only use it for sle- whoa!” His eyes widened as you reached for the back of your bra. You stopped, looking at him. “Would you prefer of I kept it on?” You questioned, but that was the furthest thing on his mind. “Why are you wearing that?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “The email said that’s what you requested, is this not the shade of pink you like?”

“N-no it’s very pretty- I mean- never mind that, i’m talking about why are you wearing lingerie?” He said, trying not to look at you, fear of a law suit. “And why are you trying to take it off.”

“It’s just the bra.” You said, he couldn’t understand why you were so calm, he was freaking the fuck out, who did jaemin call. “Plus, it’s part of the services.” You explained. “Service?” He questioned. “Yes, the topless maid services— topless, maid sorta the whole thing.”

That cheeky fucking bastard, he was gonna kill jaemin tomorrow. “I’m sorry, this is all new to me, my soon to be ex assistant hired you, it’s my birthday today, and he has to be over the top.” You nodded. “It’s okay, we can cancel the services if you’d like.” You were sweet, you stared at him with wide innocent eyes, you’ve must’ve been new to this.

“No.” He said, “No it’s okay, just shocked me a bit, you can continue.” He spoke. “You sure sir, I would hate to ruin your birthday with such an inconvenience.” He ignored the way his cock twitched when you said sir. “Who am I to stop you from doing your job, you may continue.”

You nodded, “okay.” You said. “Would you like for me to keep the bra on?” he shrugged. “Whatever you feel comfortable with.” You hummed, his eyes widened as you reached behind, unlatching the hooks, letting your bra fall into your hands, your boobs perky the air from the condo had your nipples pebbling — fuck he was getting hard.

“May I start sir?” He coughed; he loved the way sir just fell from your lips. “Um sure.” He said, you began your job, starting with the kitchen like he told you, he watched from the other room, he gulped watching as you washed the dishes, you weren’t even doing it sexy, he was just being a pervert, wishing the water would spray on you, or a little bit of soap would get caught on your boobs — he felt like a virgin seeing a pair of tits for the first times.

You made your way into the living-room where he was sitting. “You need me to leave.” He still didn’t understand how this worked. “No, the whole point is for you to watch me.” You said, chuckling. “And you clean my house naked?” He said, you nodded. “Topless, not naked.” You corrected, he nodded. “Right topless, and you get paid a lot for it – i’m sorry i don’t mean to pry.”

“It depends – if you have a lot of clients, you get paid a lot of money, and your tips, if you’re asking if I get paid a lot personally.” You reached up dusting his fireplace, giving him a peak of your ass, he palmed himself, stopping when you turned around. “I am able to live way more comfortably than someone my age normally does sir.”

He was gonna burst if you kept calling him that. “A-and how old are you?” You smiled, you could tell you were effecting him. “I’m 23 sir.” You bent down, you heard him sigh.

“What about you sir, how old are you?” He coughed again. “Me? Oh, i’m 26.” He wasn’t that older than you, you hummed. “And what do you do?”

The sudden turn of questions stumped him, especially since it was hard not to stare at your boobs. “I-i’m the CEO of sm tech company.” So, he was a huge deal, that explained the nice house.”

You nodded, getting back to work. “That’s so cool, i’ve never worked with a CEO before.” He smiled, you were cute, had this freshness to you, it was quite the scene change from all the corporate girls he met. “I guess.” He spoke.

You eventually moved to the other rooms, cleaning and tidying up everything until you were done. “You did such a good job.” You smiled. “You did better than any maid i’ve had come here.” He spoke. “Are you saying that because i’m topless?” You were a tease. “Well, i’m mean that is a plus, but you’re also a good cleaner.” He spoke. “Good job.”

Fuck he was really turning you on, your tried to ignore the feeling in between your legs, trying to remain professional like normal, but you were only human, and you could literally see his thick cock stiff in his sweats, begging to fill your mouth. “How much do I owe you?” He asked. “Oh no, I was paid already.” He nodded. “Well then a tip.”

He reached for his wallet, pulling out 5 hundred dollar bills. “Here.” He handed it to you. “This is such a generous amount.” You said. “Well I said you did a good job.” He smiled. “Take it.” He said, pulling at your waist band, putting it inside snapping it, normally that was a breech of contract, and you should’ve called him out for it, but he was fucking hot, and you were horny, you couldn’t help but whimper.

“You liked that princess?” He smirked as you nodded. “Y-yes sir.” He could feel a groan bubbling in his throat. “Fuck princess, you keep calling me sir, it’s getting really hard for me.” He spoke, his voice low. “I’m sorry sir.” You smiled. “Oh, you’re a tease, princess I could do so many things to you.”

Fuck you wanted to drop to your knees so fast. “Sir you know there’s no touching in these services.” You teased. “Yeah, but I don’t see you stopping me, you must want me to touch you.” His hands crept up your waist, you sighed. “See princess, you want this just as much as I do.” He pulled your body flush against his, pulling you into a deep kiss, pulling away. “Fu-fuck my cock is so fucking hard right now.”

You guided him to the couch, pushing him down. “Let me help you.” You sunk to your knees, right in front of his cock, biting your lip, looking up at him. “It’s your birthday after all.” He nodded, you grabbed his waistband, he lifted his hips up allowing you to pull his sweats down to his ankles.

You freed his cock from his underwear, his thick cock springing up, hitting his abdomen. “You’re so big.” You grabbed the base, kissing his tip, he hissed. “So heavy.” He groaned as you sucked on his tip. “Fuck princess, take it into your mouth.”

You engulfed his cock, he moaned out, throwing his head back against the couch. It had been a while since he’d been giving a blowjob, and the the way you were sucking him, hollowing your cheeks, deepthroating him like your life depended on it — he was gonna blow his load.

You worked your magic on his, looking at him through your lashes. “Sh-shit princess of you keep sucking me like that, i’m gonna cum in your mouth.” You released his cock with a pop, stroking it. “That’s what I want.” You kept stroke. “Cum in my mouth sir.”

You took him back into your mouth, deepthroating him. “Fu-fuck, fuck.” He moaned. “Im gonna cum, gonna fucking cum down your throat, ngh fuck!” you felt his cum hit the back of your throat. “That’s it, take my cum down that pretty throat.”

You took him out your mouth, giving his tip a few kisses. “You taste so good.” He groaned; your panties were soaked through, desperate to feel his cock in your cunt.

“Wanna ride your cock.” You climbed into his lap, your pantie clad cunt, sitting directly on his cock. “Fu-fuck, gonna take my cock?” He brought his hand down to your ass, slapping it. “Fuck yes.” You moaned. “Wanna ride it so bad.”

“Fuck.” You were killing him, all he wanted for his birthday was to have a peaceful night in and a clean house — now he has all that and a pretty girl ready to ride his cock.

“Take your panties off, leave those pretty thigh garners on.” You stood up, pulling your panties down your legs, giving him a nice look at your ass. “Fuck, sit down.” You straddled his lap, hovering over his cock. “Mmh, fuck!” you moaned, sitting down on his cock. “Your cock is so big.”

You bounced up and down, his cock stretching you out. “Fuck princess, keep bouncing, fucking taking my dick like a good girl.” He moaned, you grabbed his shoulders to steady yourself, “S-sir.” You moaned, he slapped your ass. “Fu-fuck!” You screamed. “That sir word is gonna get you fucked dumb baby.” He growled. “I want it.”

He planted his feet, fucking up into your, your moans became high pitched, chenle’s neighbors probably heard you, but you didn’t care, not when you were about to reach your high. “S-sir.” You spoke. “Sir i’m gonna cum.” He grunted, grabbing your boobs. “Fuck me too, cum for me princess, cum all over my cock, so I can cum all over those perfect tits.”You screamed, thighs shaking as you coated his cock in your cum. “That’s it -fuck- cum all over my dick.”

“Fuck.” He cursed, he was about to cum, he could feel it. “Fuck get back on your knees, i’m about to blow my load.” You got up, sinking back down on your knees. “Stroke it for me.”

You took his cock into your hand, stroking it, he moaned out. “Fuck!” he groaned. “Fuck I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum.” He moaned, cum spurting from his cock, landing on your boobs and on your lower chin. “Sh-shit.” He breathed, watching his cum drip down your chest, coating your nipples. “So pretty.”

He scooped up some of his cum from your nipples, pressing it on your lips — you took his fingers into your mouth. “Fuck good girl.” You sucked his fingers cleaned.

You chuckled taking in everything that just happened. “I’ve never did that with a client before.” You said, chenle chuckled. “Guess i’m special.” You excused yourself to use his bathroom to clean up, putting your panties back on, and your bra, ready to leave. “Here.” He gave you an extra 200 dollars. “Think of it as a birthday present.” You said.

He nodded, “well then hand me your phone number, so can schedule another appointment.” You smiled, “You’re supposed to book me on the sight.” He rolled his eyes. “Stop being such a tease, i’ll book you on the stupid site, but your number is if I want a personal type of service.” Your smirked, writing down your number. “Here.”

You put your jacket back on, grabbing your cleaning supplies, he walked you to the door. “Happy birthday sir.” You said kissing his cheek, before walking away down the hall. “Shit.” He closed the door, sitting back down on the couch.

His phone rang, he answered it, jaemins voice rang through the phone. “So, did you enjoy it?” he rolled his eyes. “Next time, give me a heads up.” he said. “Did you like it?” He bit his lip. “I should fire you.” The boy laughed. “I see you had a good time; I hear the happiness in your voice, I won’t ask questions.” jaemin teased.

“I know you’ll be booking again though.”

©️LUVYENI

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celestiababie · 1 year

Text

A Handful - K.MG

Pairings: Stay at home husband! Mingyu x fem! reader

Genre: fluff, highly suggestive (18+), domestic!au, established relationship!

Warnings: PREGNANT READER, chest fondling (m and f receiving), cursing, Mingyu is a little shit, reader is hormonal and easily annoyed, Mingyu possibly has a breeding kink, reader is shorter than Mingyu, let me know if I need to add anything else!

Word Count: 915 (short but I was on hiatus and this is the first thing I'm writing in MONTHS)

Summary: Your husband is no stranger to being touchy and clingy, but he's been especially annoying ever since you gave him the big news.

A/N: I'M MOTHERFUCKING BACK!!! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing this. For reference, this acts as a small prequel to a small series I have about stay at home husband/dad! Mingyu. You don't have to read the other parts, but I will leave a link to the series masterlist just in case people want to read it. Please leave feedback, I'd really appreciate it, especially since I'm a bit nervous about posting again haha.

Series Masterlist

A pair of warm hands suddenly wrap around your growing stomach, engulfing you as a gigantic presence looms over you.

The shriek that escapes your lips is embarrassing, but not nearly embarrassing as your hands lose their grasp on the plate you were scrubbing, dropping it in the sink and causing the fine porcelain to shatter.

"Shit—are you hurt, baby?" Your husband's voice echoes through the not yet completed kitchen, irking you more than it normally would.

Spinning in his hold, you wipe your damp hands on the sides of your sweatpants before shooting him one of the deadliest (and sexiest) glares he's ever witnessed.

"No, I'm not hurt, but I keep telling you not to sneak up behind me when I'm doing the dishes! I don't even understand how your tall ass is that fucking quiet," you start, your brows furrowed as you hold your glare.

Mingyu opens his mouth to reply but can't get a single word out before you shush him with a single finger to the lips.

"I'm not finished. And this is the fifth. No, the sixth time a plate has broken since we've moved here."

"That's not that bad, Y/n," Mingyu defends with a pout accompanying his words.

You cock a brow at the tall man, scoffing at his pathetic defense, your tongue pressed into the side of your cheek.

Six plates is a lot for any man, but it becomes comical when it's only been a month and a half since moving into the new house with your klutz of a husband.

"You've also spilled drinks. Many times. Dropped multiple glasses. And don't think that I'm stupid and don't know you dropped the bottle of wine Minghao gifted us. I was looking forward to drinking that. That's pretty bad, admit it, Gyu," you list off, enjoying how a deep rosiness reaches the tips of his ears, almost as deep as the wine you'd never be able to appreciate.

Mingyu slowly turned your frame back around to face the sink once again. His hands roamed across your stomach, which was getting bigger and bigger with every day that passed.

Like always, Mingyu felt his heart racing in his chest as he caressed your stomach, his body flooding with that overwhelming emotion he could only describe as true unconditional happiness and love for both of his girls.

Okay, maybe he didn't know the sex of the baby yet, but his gut was telling him he was gonna be a father of a little baby girl, and he was sticking to it for now. His intuition rarely failed him, and if he hadn't stuck to his guns, he would have never got together with you.

"You wouldn't be able to drink it right now anyway, baby. Let's focus on things I'm good at, hm? The kitchen is almost done, and the living room looks beautiful, if I do say so myself. I'm pretty good at painting, so I'll have the nursing done in no time. I just cooked my beautiful wife a wonderful meal that she was moaning about the entire time," he shamelessly declares, the smugness apparent in his voice.

You bite back a sassy remark when you feel his hands traverse up your abdomen, gently grabbing your swollen breasts in his large hands to massage them carefully. Your head relaxes against him as you let out a deep sigh, your husband's skillful hands rubbing away the ache and soreness.

Mingyu studied your blissful expression for what felt like the millionth time. He'd never grow tired of how your eyes would flutter shut, eyelashes resting on the tops of your cheeks as your pretty lips parted, taking deep breaths as you savored the feeling of his hands on your body.

He tilts his head to bring his lips closer to your ear, "And I'm really good at making mommy feel good, isn't that right, baby?"

Your eyes roll behind your eyelids as you let out a breathy laugh, amused but not surprised by your husband's antics.

"You're so annoying, Mingyu," you moan, practically purring your husband's name, which only inflates his ego more.

"How convenient for me; you've always looked so damn sexy when annoyed."

A light bulb lights up in your head as you watch your husband's back muscles as he walks over to the kitchen sink to set aside the dishes.

Let's see how he likes it.

A Cheshire-like smirk paints your lips as you slowly come up behind your half-naked husband to wrap your arms around his waist, your stomach pressing against his tanned skin.

But much to your disappointment, Mingyu didn't give you the reaction you hoped for.

"Gonna keep me company while I wash up?"

You frown and deeply exhale as you crawl your hands further up his torso. Your nails drag along his skin, which generates a shiver throughout his entire being, goosebumps forming on his skin.

"No, I'm trying to give you a taste of your own medicine, but you're enjoying this too much," you reply, your fingers inching further with every word.

A low moan rumbles out of Mingyu as your hands feel up his sore chest from working out right before waking you for breakfast.

Shit, his chest got even bigger. Damn, that home gym he insisted on.

You watch as Mingyu writhes against you as your fingers trail over his nipples, a shaky breath forced out of his body as he grabs the edge of the sink.

He's so annoying.

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echobx · 29 days

Text

not my type - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: you meet Rafe at a bar and he starts flirting with you. little do you know that he's also the reason you are in the obx at all because you are taking care of a business deal for your dad

warnings: swearing, smut (p in v (protected), face sitting, dirty talk)

word count: 3k

author's note: for my wifey @notdxbya <3 also, I'm aware that Rafe is a little ooc here, that's because I pictured him after Ward is dead, and he has gotten clean and is healthy and taking care of business. that's all. this is my first time actually writing Rafe and I'm lowkey scared lol

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You are sitting at a bar and the guy a few seats over keeps looking at you. Usually when guys looked at you, they did it with a kind of disgust, but he looked more intrigued than anything. “What's your issue, asshat,” you scoff without looking at him, downing your drink. “Nothing, just looking,” he shrugs his shoulders, a smirk playing on his pink lips. “You're not my type,” you say, eyeing him carefully. The short light blonde hair, muscles covered by a flimsy linen button down, gold rings bejeweling his long fingers. “Shame. You aren't mine either,” he replies, but he licks his lips; his eyes darting down to your cleavage. Boobs pressed together in a red corset. “That why you keep looking?” you laugh and gesture at the bartender to get you another drink.

“Where are you from?” the guy asks while getting up and walking over to you, taking the seat next to yours. He’s tall, taller than any guy you'd ever been with. “Not from here,” you smile cheekily and take a sip from your drink. “I figured,” he laughs, and it sounds genuine. “I'm Rafe, by the way.” “Y/n,” you reply, taking his hand that he's holding out for you to shake. “So, what are you doing here?” he asks. “I don't know if I should share such information with a stranger,” you whisper. “Stranger? We're on a first name basis already, sugar.” “Sugar?” you lift an eyebrow, and he rubs his jaw, maybe to show defeat, but you're not sure. “Guess, I'm too cocky for you.” “No, I like it when guys know what they want. But as we've already established, we're not each other's type,” you remind him.

“And what is your type?” he asks, leaning against the bar and looking at you through his blue eyes. “I'm not into blonde guys,” you say and take another drink. “I know why I'm not your type, not even hard to figure that one out. It's always the same with guys like you.” “Guys like me?” He seems offended by your assumption, but you elaborate anyway. “Guys who live off daddy's money, who spent their whole days golfing or fucking; preferably a different skinny bitch every single day. Guys who think they are the epitome of humanity,” you say, not really paying as much attention to his wonder struck face as you should. “Guys like you would never go out with a girl like me, because social standards are the only thing you ever believed in.” “Interesting. Are you always this shallow or do I have to go dye my hair?” he jokes. “I speak from experience,” you look at him, and he purses his lips for a moment before emptying his glass. “Just a year earlier and you might've been spot on there, sugar.” “I'm rarely wrong,” you whisper. “What changed?” “My dad died.” “My condolences.” “It's okay, I'm over it by now,” he shakes his head lightly. “I see,” you look away and let the uncomfortable silence settle between the two of you.

“Are you gonna tell me where you're from?” he asks. “You can guess. Got a free pass on it after my half right assumptions,” you smile, and he reciprocates it, adding a little huff. “All right. You're on vacation, no boyfriend, and you're just looking for a little fun.” You laugh loudly. “You just described literally every girl in this bar. Try a little harder, darling.” “Okay, fine. You're from the city. You know what you want and are not afraid to take it.” “Warmer, but still not there,” you wink at him. “Okay, help me out here, sugar,” he sighs defeated. “Just give me one weirdly specific one, doesn't have to be correct, just try it,” you search his eyes for a second before looking away again. “You made a completely wrong assumption about a stranger based on your insecurities.” His words hit you hard and raw, but you didn't let it show. “Enlighten me, then,” you challenge him, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “You don't think I think you're hot, when the opposite is the case.” Your heart starts pounding in your chest, and you feel the all too familiar heat rise in your cheeks and stomach. Clearing your throat, you down your drink, immediately asking for another one. “Didn't expect that one, did’ya,” he taunts. “Shame that you're not my type,” you flip your hair to the side, running your fingertips over the edge of the glass in front of you. “I could change your mind on that,” he suggests. “I'm not keeping you from trying,” you chuckle, and the next few hours are spent with shameless flirting and drinking.

The next day you get yourself ready for a meeting. You are supposed to meet with some rich asshole and work out a deal that will benefit both his and your dad's company. You get to the meeting early, making sure that your suit fits and checking your makeup in the restroom before letting the receptionist lead you to the conference room. “Mr. Cameron will be with you in a bit,” she tells you, eyeing you wearily before stepping away. You set up your laptop and the paperwork, but the man is late, something you have always hated. You walk to look out the window and onto the sea when you hear the door open and someone walks in. “Thank you for taking some time and waiting for me, there was an incident in the office that I needed to take care of,” he says and sits down without looking at you and not seeing the shocked expression on your face. Rafe looks even hotter in the suit than he had the night before, and you hate that you even think of him like that. “No problem,” you smile and walk behind him to your seat when his head perks up. “You-” the words seem to be stuck in his throat. “I'm supposed to take care of this deal since my father has an important appointment in New York that came in just yesterday,” you explain. “I see. We should get to it then,” he nods and after three hours of extensive discussion you have finally come to a mutual agreement that you know will be to your father's liking.

“Why didn't you mention any of this last night?” he asks. “If I had known your last name, I would've. But also, you should update your website. I was prepared to meet with someone else, your dead father, I presume.” “Yes, I should,” he mumbles. “Good,” you nod and pack your things together, wanting to leave and get back home as quickly as possible. “Do you like dinner?” he blurts out just as you are about to step out of the room. “Who doesn't?” you smirk. “Would you go out with me?” Rafe asks more directly, and you bite your cheek before nodding. “Good, I'll pick you up later. You're staying at the Country Club, right?” he asks and you nod again. “Perfect. 8pm, I won't be late,” he smiles, and you laugh a little while stepping out and walking.

The evening came quicker than you expected, and you found yourself sitting opposite Rafe at a fancy restaurant. “Are you always trying this hard for a hookup?” you ask bluntly, and he nearly chokes on his steak. “Excuse me?” “You heard me pretty well,” you say and take a bite of your food. “I usually don't, no,” he finally answers, nipping on his wine. “You're very direct.” “That something bad?” you cock an eyebrow and he shakes his head. “No. It's nice, like a fresh breath even. Dating is rather boring when you've lived in the same spot your whole life.” “Never had any issues with it to be honest, at least when it comes to the diversity of it.” “Hardly comparable, New York and Kildare,” he notes. “So, this is a date?” you question, and he smiles to hide the light blush that creeps on his cheeks. “Would your dad be okay with you dating a business partner?” “My dad isn't here, and we don't know if this is a date yet,” you counter, and he puts his hands up in defense. “I'm not about to ruin a good deal is all I'm saying.” “Well, you're still not my type, so it's probably better anyway.” “Right,” he mumbles and gets back to eating.

After some time you find back to a more easy-going manner, just like you had the night before. But the more he flirts with you, the less you can remember why you had initially not had any interest in him.

“I just have one question,” you say as you stand next to him in the elevator that leads you down to the garage where he had parked. “And?” “Have you ever even been with anyone like me?” you eye him wearily as he's towering next to you. “No, but there's always a first time round, right?” In a split second decision you pull him down by his collar and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and his tongue is dancing with your own, his hands are grabbing your ass harshly. You would continue to make out with him if the elevator doors didn't open to let in a few more people. It was unnecessary to pretend like nothing had happened because he has your lipstick all over his face, and you put your hand in front of your mouth to hide your wide grin.

Rafe drives like a maniac, but you don't mind it while his hand is holding onto your thigh, squeezing harshly. “I don't think that's the right way,” you tell him, but he just smiles at you and keeps driving without saying anything. You come up to a mansion, and he parks out front and helps you out, like a true gentleman. “That your place?” you ask and he nods. “Thought you might want a little more privacy,” he says and leads you inside.

The marble floors are pretty but nothing compared to the ones in your apartment on the Upper East Side. “Cute,” you note. “Wanna show me around a little?” You are aware that he wants nothing more than to just drag you upstairs, but you like how desperate he looks, and you'd like to keep looking at it even if just for a few more minutes. “Uh, sure,” he sighs and leads you around, showing you the kitchen and living room before going upstairs. “That's the office and over there's the-” “Bedroom?” you interrupt him and he smirks. “Yes, unless you'd rather see the whole estate and the boats and-” You cut him off with a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips.

The two of you stumble backwards into the room, helping him take off his shirt before pushing him onto the bed. “I don't like selfish assholes,” you state firmly, slowly opening the buttons of your blouse. “Understood.” He props himself up on his elbows and admires you as you strip for him, leaving nothing but your lingerie on your body. “You still think you can handle this?” You straddle him in his seat and he gulps but nods. His hands rub over your body, over every single curve that you had once been insecure about. “God you're hot,” he hums and starts kissing your tits, sucking on the nipple while his hand is kneading the other. You start rutting against him, his dick twitching under you.

“Can I sit on your face, darling?” you ask a little unsure about his answer but the enthusiastic yes he gives you makes you even more aroused than you already were. You stand, and he pulls your slip down, starting to kiss your stomach and thighs. “Take your pants off, please,” you order and he does it before lying down.

You climb on top, and he harshly pulls you up to his face. Your weight rests on your thighs next to his head as you hover over him. “I’m not going to sit down completely if you don't want that. I'm not gonna be responsible for your death, darling.” “I'm gonna be all right, sugar,” he smirks and starts kissing your wet cunt. “God, you're wet for me, baby,” he moans desperately and pulls you down, thrusting his tongue into you and eating you out as if his life was dependent on it. With every lap of his tongue your orgasm grew closer, and you fell forward against the headboard, holding yourself up with your arms as you moaned and gasped. He sucks your clit into his mouth, making you scream with pleasure, and instinctively grind your pussy over his face as soon as he lets go again. He grabs your ass, practically forcing you to roll your hips into him and making his nose repeatedly nudge against your clit until you come undone on top of him. He keeps on eating you out until he has licked every last bit of your release from your sensitive cunt.

“Yeah, you're definitely not into blonde guys,” he laughs as you lie next to him, heavily panting. “Definitely.” You watch him grab a condom from the nightstand and a few moments later he's balls deep inside of you, filling you out like no one ever had.

“Jesus, fuck, you feel so good, sugar,” Rafe praises you. “Don't you fucking dare,” you moan as he hits your cervix, making you squirm under him. “Shit, you want me to be mean to you? I can do that,” he laughs and pulls out again, manhandling you onto your stomach and pulling your ass in the air. “That's the best ass in the fucking world, sugar,” he moans while pushing into you again. “Fuck, Rafe,” you scream because his thrusts hit even deeper in this position and his balls keep slapping against your clit. “You wanna act like a bitch, you gotta be able to take it,” he grunts, slapping your ass and making you whine. “More,” you beg, and he leans down to bite your waist. “Won't be able to wear anything revealing unless you want everyone to know how much of a slut you are being for me,” he growls and wraps your hair around his hand in a makeshift ponytail to pull your back flush to his chest. “What would your daddy say if he knew how we finalized his deal? If he knew that the only reason I went easy was because I wanted to rail his darling daughter. If he knew that I got to defile you.”

“Rafe,” you have tears in your eyes, but he’s nowhere close to stopping, and you really don't want him to ever stop. You love how full of him you feel. Rafe takes his hand and starts playing with your tits while the other comes down to rub your clit. “You wanna cum on my dick, sugar? Wanna make daddy proud?” You whine in response, and he stops touching you, pushing you back down and lying down on top of you. His thrusts are relentless and harsh while your make-up runs down your face. “Such a good slut for me. Might just keep you here as my personal sex slave. Would you like that, sugar?” His hot breath is on your ear, and you cry out as he goes to slap your thigh. “Answer me.” “Yes, Rafe. Am your slut. Only yours.” “Wasn't that hard, was it,” he groans and sits back up, pulling your ass back up with him.

He's still not stopping, and you don't know where he got that much stamina from because every time you try to crawl away from his dick he keeps pulling you back. "Tststs, don't you dare,” he admonishes and slaps you harsher each time. You're so close to cumming, but he won't let you, no matter how much you whine and beg. “I know you can take it. I'm not gonna let you cum until I'm done with you. A deal's a deal,” he laughs and fucks you even faster.

Your throat has gone sore from all the screaming and moaning when he finally starts playing with your clit again. “C’mon now, baby. Let go for me,” he hums and kisses your back softly and the band inside you snaps. You can't remember ever having had an orgasm like the one he had just given you and as soon as it was over you craved more. “God, you're tight, sugar,” Rafe groans, his hips stutter as he tried to keep fucking you through it but the grip your pussy has on him is too much, and he lets go too. His head falling to your back while he groans and cums.

“Solid 8.5,” you say just to tease him once he's lying next to you, the sheets pulled over his sweaty body. “Guess I'll have to try even better next time,” he smirks. “I'm not gonna be your sex slave, just to be clear on that.” “Shit, and I've already let the help prepare the dungeon,” he fakes a gasp. “Stop making me like you,” you laugh, and he looks at you, almost dreamy. “What?” you ask slowly, furrowing your brows. “Nothing, just- No, nothing at all,” he shakes his head. “Okay, weirdo,” you roll your eyes and go to stand up. searching for your slip and putting it back on. “What are you doing?” Rafe asks, watching you meticulously; how you pull your skirt up and tug your blouse into it after buttoning it up. You run your hand through your hair while pulling your heels back on. “I'm leaving. Have to catch my flight tomorrow morning and my shit is still at the hotel,” you remind him. “So, that's it? One night to remember?” “Yeah, wasn't that the plan all along?” you laugh, and he mirrors it slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah. Definitely.” “Besides, I'm responsible for this deal, and I'm not gonna let it go to shits, not even for a good fuck.” “A real businesswoman,” he mumbles. “Maybe you find your way to New York one day,” you smile at him before stepping out of the door, just to lean back and look back at him. “Oh, and you’re still not my type.”

◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹◃▹

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @drwstarkeyy

part 2

#rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #obx fanfiction #~fanfiction #smut #my writing

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sentientcave · 2 months

Text

Fuck-ass Mohawk

Contains: Alcohol, smoking (cigarettes and cannabis), Soap being Soap, Ghost being Ghost, uninvited touching, tall fem reader

Short little thing about Johnny liking it a bit when you're a bitch to him (And Ghost likes it too)

868 Words ~ MDNI

You’d rather stay home and play board games, but Laurie had convinced everyone that it was a good night for clubbing. You hated clubs— The noise, the crowds, the smell of sweat and alcohol and hormones— and spent the better part of club nights standing outside chain-smoking, or crammed into a dirty bathroom stall holding back a friend’s hair as she threw up blue curacao because she didn’t listen to you when you told her to eat dinner before going out. Tonight didn’t look like it was going to end up with anyone puking their guts up, at least. Laurie’s flirting with a gorgeous hunk with a devastating smile, and Alex and Hannah are dancing, so you go out the side door into the alley for some fresh air. Or air, anyway, since the alley’s where folks go to smoke. You light a joint, because at least that will dull the effect that the sound is having on your head. It’s getting close to midnight, which at least means the night is almost over, so long as someone doesn’t drag you along to some weirdo’s house. “Hey, wha’s a bonnie thing like ye doin’ out here all alone?” A voice purrs in your ear. You jump, surprised that he could get so close with out you noticing him, especially once you turn and really look at him. He’s huge, not that tall, probably your height when you’re not wearing boots (You have about an inch and a half on him in your shit-kickers), but broad and way more muscled than anyone has any reason to be, wrapped in a too-tight shirt, and smiling at you, bright blue eyes fixed on yours with unnerving intensity. He pats your shoulder. “Didnae mean to scare ye, lass, just wanted to say hello.” You take a big step to the side, establishing a new bubble of personal space without him in it. “Well, hello,” you say dismissively. “Goodbye.” There’s a snort from a few meters away, a big fellow with a kn95 mask dangling on one ear, his hand up in front of his face, a cigarette clamped between his fingers. “Och, dinnae be like tha’, hen.” “Don’t like it?” you ask, glaring at him. “Go away. Plenty of girls in there’ll go for whatever all this is.” A sweeping, unimpressed glance from his boots and ripped jeans up to his stupid mohawk would usually do the trick, but it only made this fellow smile wider. “No’ enough fer ya? I can sweeten tha deal some. The big fella doesnae mind sharin’ a sweet lass with me noo and again. There’s plenty of ye ta go around.” “Johnny,” the big fellow in question says sternly. His mask is back in place, covering the lower half of his face. “Dun’t look like she’s interested.”

“Tha’s where you’re wrong, LT. She just doesna want to admit it. Hen’s got pride. Wants to make me work for it, right lass?” He winks at you. “No. Don’t like your fuck-ass mohawk.” You puff on your joint, keeping your face still while he splutters, indignant. “Fuck-ass mohawk?” he asks. “What do ye mean by tha’?” “I mean it looks like you have a contentious relationship with your father,” you say. Maybe you’re being a bit mean, but it’s always fun to take a cocky fucker down a peg or two. “I don’t fuck with men with daddy issues. Most of ‘em are cops or military lads.” The big guy— LT?— laughs aloud at that while Johnny’s still looking at you with his mouth hanging open. The side door opens, and your friends pile out, Laurie arm in arm with her hunk, and Hannah and Alex clinging to handsome fellows of their own. “There you are,” Laurie says. “We’re going back to Hannah’s. Are you coming?” “Uh. I guess.” Laurie beams at you, and looks up at her hunk. “Kyle, do you need to find your friends?” “Nah. These lads right here.” He gestures at Johnny and LT. with a grin. “Knew Ghost would be out here, and Soap’s always followin’ him around like the big puppy he is.” “Ah’m no’!” You fall into step at the rear of the group. You’ll probably head home rather than join them, but Hannah’s flat is on the way to your own. Johnny and his handler flank you, matching your stride when you slow down or speed up. Annoying. “So what, is the big guy your replacement daddy?” you ask. “Wha— No!” Johnny says hotly. “He’s just my lieutenant.” “Could be your daddy, if you like,” Ghost says, putting a heavy hand on the back of your neck. “Got a thing for caustic little cunts.” “Oh fuck off,” you say, trying to shove his hand off. His grip squeezes a little tighter, and you try to ignore the way that core clenches around nothing. You channel the heat into anger, and dig your nails into his wrist hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.” He grunts, but doesn’t seem all that affected by your claws. “Look at you, ‘issin’ and spittin’ like a puffed up alley cat. S’cute. But save it for later, eh? Don’t want you to tire yourself out too early.”

#cave writing #Ghoap x reader #x reader #MW fic #just a short thing but I'm not sure I'll get around to writing more so I'm posting as is #Maybe someday I will write the second half of this where reader gets sandwiched between two hot military men and has a really good time #But yanno how it is

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whyareyouhere66 · 9 months

Note

I feel like it’s been forever since a new Harry Potter fic was written, so I’m here to request(if u feel like writing it ofc<3)!

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Male!reader where reader likes to admire him from the background, but word gets out that they have a crush on him. Reader gets picked on for it because “why would Draco Malfoy of all people go for a Hufflepuff boy?”. U can choose what direction it goes in 👀 (unless you want me be more direct then I can add on to it!)

Yes! I’m here for it- hope you enjoy <3

Also, prefacing this by saying I don’t at all like Rowling or support her bullshit, this is just a cute request id like to do

CW: teasing directed towards reader, reader is like half an inch shorter than Draco (something like that, just for context) unedited (I’ll do it soon I promise) and makeout scene (spoilersssss uh oh)

Sound booms across the length of the long walls, the bustling Great Hall full of kids across grades eating their meals. Chicken, mashed potatoes, loafs spread out in baskets, it’s like a thanksgiving meal.

The sun, high in the sky, shines through the tall windows and creates a natural light to outshine the various floating candles. Down at one of the various tables, the Hufflepuff children sit at the wooden table and talk.

“I don’t think he understood the assignment, either.”

“He’s the one who wrote it!”

“Exactly the issue-“

Y/n, accompanied by F/n, sits across from another group at the decorated table. A yellow and black scarf sits loosely around his s/c shoulders, a few rings wrapped around his fingers. He takes another bite from his plate, listening to F/n and another student bicker quietly- the slightest pull of a smile rising on his lips.

“You guys still talking about Snape?” He asks, eyeing the two. They both nod.

“He’s so grumpy all the time, Y/n,” F/n complains, jutting his chin towards the stone faced man across the room. Y/n chuckles and shakes his head.

“Snape always knows what he’s doing.” He says, planning to check out of the conversation when words of disagreement are thrown his way.

Y/n moves to keep watching his friends- but his eyes flicker.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the platinum blonde hair his eyes always seem to catch. And suddenly, his friends’ words are but mush against his ears.

Draco sits at the Slytherin table, green banners hanging above his head just like the yellow ones above Y/n’s.

He has a normal scowl, that would dull anyone else’s face if it weren’t his. As his friends continue to talk, though, his eyebrow lifts and a smooth smirk almost replaces it.

And oh, how pretty his lips are.

Y/n wishes he could hide the thoughts as they ring in his head, wishing his small smile wasn’t such a giveaway.

“Y/n? Did we lose you again?” The girl across the table asks, bangs falling into her face. Grace, is her name.

“Yeah, you look distracted.” F/n snickers, nudging Y/n’s elbow because unlike the others, he knows exactly where his best friend’s gaze is lingering.

Blood rushes to Y/n’s face, realizing how obvious he had been just now.

“I’m fine.” He insists, elbowing F/n right back. The others shrug it off, not noticing how one last glance is shot towards Draco.

Lunch is closer to wrapping up when Y/n notices the time- 1:48.

“Oh, wait-“ he looks over at F/n. “Man, we gotta go-“

At this, the boy looks at the time and nods. They both grab their things, wishing goodbye to their friends- Ms. McGonagall would be expecting a finished project in the next hour.

They weave through the students crowded around tables, holding their bags close to their hips to take less room. Getting out early gets them more time, though their project was nearly done anyways Ms. McGonagall really talked this one up.

Stepping out through the giant wooden doors, Y/n breathes out.

“Alright, you have the-“ his words are cut short when someone steps into his path.

Looking up, he finds 3 people standing in front of him, having bumped into the first one. They’re all from Slytherin.

“Sorry, didn’t see you.” He tries to step around them, but the boy in front recognizes him and suddenly seems very interested.

“Wait a minute,” he steps in front of Y/n again, “Y/n.” His name on this strange boy’s tongue doesn’t sound like a question, honestly it feels threatening. Y/n furrows his eyebrows, and steps back.

“Uh, yeah?” There’s an intimidating look in the Slytherin boy’s eye- one that not even his friends know the reason for. They, as well as F/n, watch curiously.

“Aren’t you that Hufflepuff that has a crush on Malfoy?”

What.

Y/n’s heart stops, his eyes widen. Who is this kid?

“Huh?”

“Oh don’t think I haven’t seen anything,” confidence seems to build in the boys voice, the look on Y/n’s face coming as confirmation for his words. “You’re always making puppy eyes at him- oh, I so knew it!”

The excitement in this boy’s voice is strange- was he betting on this? Does he not realize how creepy that feels?

“Wait, slow down,” one of the Slytherin’s step forward, wrapping her head around the news, “you like Malfoy? Really?”

Y/n doesn’t like the tone of her voice.

“A Hufflepuff? Liking Malfoy?” She scoffs, “oh please.”

Y/n feels too exposed, like he’s suddenly being poked and prodded from under a microscope.

How had they found out?

Who else knows?

He looks at F/n, eyes screaming for help. Another minute here, when kids could walk around the corner at any moment, hear his secret slowly leaking from the safety of his own self, and he might explode.

“You guys are on something strong, aren’t you?” F/n swoops in, trying to play it off and Y/n makes a mental note to remind the boy how grateful he is for him in a moment.

“Quit projecting, will you? Pathetic, really.” F/n says, though avoids any eye contact with the three. He shoves Y/n’s shoulder, who stumbles, and leads him away as quickly as possible.

By the time they get to the library, Y/n’s head is already swimming, mainly from embarrassment.

He never wanted anyone to know- he still doesn’t want that. This little “crush” was supposed to stay between him and F/n, for that was the only person he ever trusted to carry it.

But now? With some smug Slytherin boy walking around with his feelings cupped in the palm of his hand? Y/n’s lost his safety rail. Now, his feelings are vulnerable, ready to be spilled to Draco at any second.

Two hands hold his shoulders firmly, he recognizes them as F/n’s. No surprise, considering there’s barely any one else in the library right now. Y/n’s eyes dart to meet his.

“Hey, you alright?” He asks, and it takes an extra moment for the e/c eyed boy to come up with an answer.

“I think so.” He says, nodding. F/n copies the gesture.

“Good, that’s good. I’m sure not that many people know, ok?” He reassures Y/n, who’s grateful for the words as they bring back some stability.

“Right.”

Now that he’s out of that boys uncomfortable gaze, he doesn’t feel as panicked as he did before. More so, unsettled.

“Right, yeah, uh- let’s get back to the project.” With the nod of his head, and one last look, F/n is agreeing. The two boys sit down at one of the many tables, between two tall bookshelves.

‘Maybe it’s ok,’ Y/n thinks to himself, ‘not that many people know.’

You realize now, that you spoke too soon.

The next day comes, and you’re now standing in the bathroom wasting away time that’s supposed to be spent in Snape’s potions class. It’s empty, aside from you of course, nothing but the sound of a running faucet.

It’s so quiet that when the door creaks open, people stepping inside, your head snaps to the side, startled.

It’s two boys, both from Gryffindor, named Avery and Jaxon and you immediately recognize them from a few classes. You turn back to the sink.

Neither of them look at you, instead disappearing into two of the stalls.

By the time they’re both out of the stalls, you’re washing the final suds from your hands. From the mirror, you see their faces change, realizing who you are.

The air becomes unnecessarily tense, you’re unsure why, both of the boys are trying to pretend otherwise.

Avery and Jax glance at each other, walking to the sinks. And it’s not until Avery decides to speak, that the silence is again broken.

“Hey, um-“ you look at him, “I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but…” he looks hesitant to speak, like what he say might come off as offensive, something sensitive. Your curiosity only grows.

“Is it true, that you and Draco are dating?”

You nearly choke.

“What?” You asks, hating that this is the 2nd time Draco has been brought up to you.

“I mean, I heard that-“ Avery seems to notice the growing worry plastered on your face- it’s spreading. Your secret is spreading.

“Oh,” Avery begins to realize, “sorry, Y/n, that was a bit invasive.” His tone is calm, only slightly uncomfortable. Pretty much the opposite to you- itching to drop the conversation. But, you keep a calm face, shoving the gross feelings down.

“No it’s fine, um, why?” You can only hope your voice doesn’t give everything away.

“Oh, I just thought I heard a couple Slytherin kids talking about it.” Again, his voice feels too nonchalant. “Guess I was wrong.”

“Oh.” The slightest shake. Unlike Avery, though, Jax still seems interested.

“Wait- do you like him though?” This results in an elbow to rib, and Avery looks at him like a mother scolding their child.

“Ow!-“ Jax grunts, glaring yet ignoring the hint, “I’m just asking. You know about the Slytherins and Huffs’.”

“They just…” his eyes dart right back to yours, “they just don’t go together, man.” You hate the way he says it- hate how it feels like you’re being scolded, looked down on. Looking down at the yellow and black robes draped across your shoulder, you avoid Jaxon’s gaze.

Which, in hindsight, gives enough of an answer.

The two Gryffindors shuffle out of the bathroom, and immediately you let out a groan.

You’re fucked.

Hands run down your face in exasperation- this wasn’t supposed to get out. Draco probably knows now, people think that you’re dating.

The unusually large bathroom echoes mumbled curses back to you, silence so eery it feels haunting. You feel yourself beginning to doubt if you should even return to potions class- knowing Draco is sitting at the desk a few feet from yours.

“They just don’t go together, man…”

“A Hufflepuff? Liking Malfoy? Oh, please…”

Another sigh.

You feel your fingers pressing into your eyelids, passing over your temples and the wrinkles above your nose.

‘He’s gonna hate me’

Such a childish thought, but once it appeared you felt a sickening feeling in your chest because how you wish he doesn’t.

Outside, footsteps echo in the hallway.

And Draco himself, walks down the corridor towards the boy’s bathroom, taking his time with the silence. It’s a much better option, compared to Snape’s incessant grumbling.

He’s been trying to think the whole day- but is only now getting the chance thanks to that little posse of his.

For hours now, whenever given the chance, his mind drifts back to the conversations from early this morning at breakfast.

“Have you heard?” Pansy leans over the table, one eyebrow raised as if she’s careful of listening ears. Though, to that she doesn’t spare a second thought.

Blaise narrows his eyes, looking at her curiously. “Heard what?” He asks, and Draco impatiently looks at her.

“What now.” The blonde already doesn’t care, Pansy always seems to find some sort of gossip across houses. But this time, she’s sending a smirk right his way.

“Some little Hufflepuff has a crush on you.”

Now, to this, Draco does perk up- and his eyes flicker in your direction for only a moment. But, he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge it.

“Mhm.” Pansy sounds so smug in her words, satisfied as both boys lean closer to her.

“Who?” Blaise asked, the roughness behind his voice covering any curiosity.

“Y/n L/n.”

Draco looks bewildered for a second- you? He never thought it was actually you, that was only a spark of hope in a moment of weakness. He was prepared to hear the name of some random girl he hadn’t learned the name of before- but the familiar ring of your name brought satisfaction to follow the shock.

He doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that shows through. Beside him, Blaise scoffs.

“You’re joking”. He says, and Draco shoots him a glare.

“What? It’s no surprise,” he says cockily, “jealousy’s never a good look”. The meaningless comeback earns a glare and an eye roll from Blaise- and surprises Pansy.

“Draco,” she narrows her eyes, “do you like this? Him?” She gives him a once-over, checking to see if he’s serious. He is.

Draco doesn’t give a straight answer, though, instead scoffing and going back to his plate.

“Get a life, why don’t you. Your gossip is boring me.” He says- but there’s the slightest pull at his lips, smiling your way.

Draco pushes open the large door, stepping inside the bathroom and immediately- his eyes land on you.

“Y/n?”

Your head snaps up, and a new feeling sinks into your stomach when you see him. You can’t tell if you wish it was someone else, or if this is perhaps what you were hoping for.

“Uh, hey.”

Draco steps closer, and you can see some sort of glint in his eyes, and you can’t quite name the warm yet uneasy feeling that follows.

“Skipping Snape’s class now, are we?” He teases in a smug voice, and your blood aches in your cheeks.

“Just taking a break-“ you don’t look at him, using a towel to wipe off your hands. You simply want to play it cool in front of him, though you’re unsure considering the past two times you seem to have failed.

“A break, hmm? I’m sure.” He says sarcastically.

Instead of picking a stall, like you expected, you watch from the corner of your eye as he approaches you and leans on one of the sinks.

“So,”

You freeze.

‘Don’t say it..’

“There seems to be a bit of a rumor spreading around.”

You visibly wince, the moment you prayed would never come has arrived. He found out- and just like the others, he knows that he could never accept a silly school crush from your house.

Turned away, you’re unable to see the smirk on his face- but you can hear it in his voice.

“Draco…” you mumble, feeling the dread of what his response is going to be. He’s closer now, you feel it- and suddenly his figure is right beside you.

“Y’know, if you wanted a date so badly you could’ve asked.”

You pause.

What?

His voice is new, because while there’s still such a teasing tone buried in the words, you notice…hope, as well.

You look at him, and notice his eyes have softened.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, “no need to have waited so long.” He still sounds partially like he’s joking, but his fingers are creeping closer to yours by the sink’s ledge.

The pieces are starting to connect in your head- he hasn’t pushed you away, hasn’t called you any names. In fact- he’s the one getting so close.

Draco watches, examining your face. He’s starting to feel impatient, actually, feeling he’s been clear enough. He doesn’t seem to understand how confusing his words can be- how your beating heart is twisting and unraveling in your chest. He’s too preoccupied with his own churning heart.

“What’re you saying?” You finally ask, and he nearly scoffs.

“Hell, you’re real thick in the head aren’t you?”

He doesn’t even try stopping himself as his hands cup your face, and his lips are molding right into yours.

He’s so quick with it, like he’s been waiting years for this, yet so smooth at the same time. You can feel your eyes as they shoot open, only to hazily fall half closed a moment later.

His arms loop around your waist, so you were almost bent into his body. You have to take a cautionary step back just to stable yourself, one hand holding his neck, it almost takes you too long to realize he is kissing you.

‘Holy shit, holy shit holy shit holy shit-‘ your mind races, and it feels like only half of it is functioning. Part of you is swimming, the other half melting into his arms because oh how long have you been waiting to feel him so close.

He’s smirking into the kiss now, breaking it into quicker, shorter kisses that mesh together to make one, long breathless one. Through the haze of his lips, your hand creeps into his hair and he wonders why he waited so long to experience this.

You tug slightly, other hand grabbing his jaw, and you pull him away.

The room is no longer silent, both of you catching your breath.

“I’ll take that as your confession, then?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he replies, “meet again after Potions?”

“Sounds good.”

[I hope you all enjoyed- I feel there’s probably more I could’ve added or something, but for now this is good. If anyone wants an add on or more or like a part two let me know!]

#Draco Malfoy #draco Malfoy x male reader #harry potter fandom #Harry Potter fandom x male reader #66 recs&replies

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bree-cheesy · 1 year

Text

His Favorite Girl

Eddie Munson! x fem!reader

Part 2 Part 3

A/N: I know, it’s been a minute, I’m sorry (not really). Haven’t been super motivated to write so hopefully this redeems me a little. I wanted to write something along the lines of Drug Dealer Eddie and innocent-ish reader being his favorite client. I tried to make it filthy to make up for not giving you guys any fics for a minute so please forgive me! It is a bit short, but I’m not sorry lol. I hope y’all think it’s good!!

Credit to @eddiemunsonsource for the gif!

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI OR I WILL MELT YOUR FACES. Sort of maybe friends to lovers. Porn with a little plot. (kissing, dirty talk, rough!eddie, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, slight mean Eddie (calls you a slut once), cock drunk reader, choking, rough p in v, bruises formed, (but good ones if you know what I mean) some aftercare), cuddling at the end, language, drug dealing. No use of Y/N. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 1668

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“That’s it, baby…. Just like that, fuck!” Eddie groaned and moaned as your mouth wrapped tight around his cock, sucking him for all he was worth. Lip gloss sliding up and down his shaft. His hand gripping your hair in a tight fist, his head thrown back with his jaw hung open and slack.

---2 hours earlier---

You were Eddie’s favorite buyer. He always gave you a discount and even sometimes gave you it for free. You noticed he’d always give it to you for free if you wore that skirt that made him need to jerk off every time you left his trailer. Tonight was no different at the start. Wearing that little skirt, prancing up to his doorstep, sliding on some more “Bomb Cherry” lip gloss you bought at the mall a few days ago. Knocking you heard a few curses muffled behind the door before it swung open and Eddie was in front of you, holding onto the door frame with a white knuckle grip. He looked sweaty and tense. “Hey, sweetheart. Y-You’re early!”

You smiled up at him, eyes beaming. “Yup! I have a date with Jason tonight and he wants to smoke with me, so I wanted it early.” Eddie couldn’t stop that sinking feeling, but kept a smile on his face.

“Of course,” He opened the door for you to come in. “Come on in.”

He shut the door when you got inside and disappeared down the main hallway. “Should’ve given me some notice, sweetheart. Probably would’ve been a bit more prepared.” He came back into sight with a small plastic baggie.

Eyeing the bag you noticed it was more than usual. “Eddie, that’s too much.” You scrambled for your money in your small coin purse. “I-I only brought a 20… That’s not enough for that.” You looked up at the pretty boy standing tall over you, teeth pressed into your lip.

“Babe, you know you don’t need to pay. Don’t even worry.” He winked at you. “Think of it as a gift for being such a loyal customer.”

You shook your head and dug around for more money. “N-No, I can’t… You’d be losing out on money…” Managing to find another 20, you grabbed his hand and thrusted the two bills into his palm. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the bills in the collar of your tank top.

“Sweetheart, I have half the high school buying from me. I raise prices for them because they’re desperate.” He ran his fingers up the side of your neck, causing chills to go up your body, his thumb lightly rubbing against your jaw. “I promise, giving you free weed is not hurting my business.”

You pouted, opening your mouth to argue, but you gasped softly when he pushed his thumb past your lips, making you shut up. He looked down at you with a hunger you hadn’t seen from him before. It made your knees weak and you almost had to grab onto him for balance.

“But, if you’re so desperate to pay for it, you can do something for me…. Only if you want to of course.” He leaned close to you, pressing you up against him. “Ditch Carver and stay here.” You whimpered and he smiled at you as he felt your tongue press up against his thumb. “Ditch the Jock and stay here so I can show you how you deserve to be treated. You come here in this tight little skirt and it takes so much in me to not bend you over the table and fuck you stupid.” He takes his thumb out of your mouth and drops that hand to the back of your thigh.

“Eddie… please…” You whined softly and pressed more against him.

“Please what, baby?” He leaned in and ran his nose up your neck, starting to guide you to the wall.

“Touch me…” Your voice was a whisper and the words barely came out before he shoved his hand up your skirt and dragged your now soaked panties down your legs just enough to slip his fingers between your folds.

“Fuck, baby… So goddamn wet for me.” His middle finger was at your clit in seconds and you whimpered, falling into his chest as he rubbed it gently. You kissed his neck, sucking softly, wanting to mark him up.

He picked you up and carried you down the hallway towards his room, throwing you on the bed and stripping you of your clothes before he swiped his band t-shirt off. You bit your lip and looked at his inked up chest as he admired your body. Soft skin under his fingers. His thumb running over the small heart stick and poke tattoo on your hip. He grabbed your ankles, roughly pulling you towards him and he dropped to his knees between your legs. Gasping, you instantly grab onto his shoulder, feeling slightly dizzy with pleasure. He kissed softly up your thigh and suddenly bit down, making you squeal and tighten your grip on his shoulders.

“God, you smell so fucking good. Wanna bottle it up and wear it as cologne.” You didn’t get a chance to think before his mouth was fastened to your clit. You cried out and grabbed onto his hair, moaning and bucking into his mouth. He grunted and held onto your thighs with an iron grip that will no doubt leave some bruises. Bruises you’d wear proudly. “So fucking good, baby… So much better than I imagined…”

You looked down at him with a grin, a sudden ego boost flooding your brain. “Y-You’ve imagined this?” Still a little breathless from the nonstop abuse to your pussy by his mouth. He nodded and swirled his tongue around your clit.

“Of course, sweetheart. How could I not. S’fucking pretty everytime you come here. Wanna make you mine, baby…” You moaned at his words and licked your lips. He slipped a finger inside you and curled it just enough to hit that spot that made you melt under his hands. Those big hands you’d imagined wrapped around your throat every night.

“I-I’m yours, Eddie… Promise.” You gasped and felt another finger go inside you. He grinded against his face, the feeling of your orgasm getting so close. Just as you were about to, he stopped and kissed up your body. You whined and he kissed your neck. “Eddie…. Come on, I was so close…”

“I know, baby, but when you cum, it’s gonna be on my cock.” He kissed you hungrily, commanding your lips. You kissed him back and wrapped your legs around his waist. He pulled back and wrapped his hand around your throat before pulling his pants and boxers off. You whined and reached out for his cock, your mouth watering with a sudden need for it. He chuckled and let you up. Your lips instantly attached to it and he groaned, fisting his hand tight in your hair.

“S’it, baby… Just like that, fuck!” He threw his head back as you took him in all the way and gagged on him. He thrusted his hips against your mouth and you moaned around him. Tears filled your eyes from his tip poking the back of your throat and they streamed down your face. He lightly slapped your face and held onto your head with both hands before roughly fucking your face. God, you were in heaven. The need to please Eddie filled your every thought. “Such a good little slut for me. Yeah? You like my cock deep in your throat? F-Fuck…!” He pulled out, letting you get a gasp of air before going right back in. You tapped his thigh a few times, signaling him to stop. He pulled out. “Are you okay?” Sudden worry filled his eyes.

You nodded and laid back on the bed, sniffling softly. “Yeah. I just need you inside me, now…” Whining softly you spread your legs wide for him.

He bit his lip and looked around for a condom before pulling it on. “Fuck, my favorite girl ruined under me… Never thought I’d see this outside my dreams.” He grabbed your neck again and you smiled, loving the feeling of his rings digging into the sensitive skin on your neck. Another bruise you’d wear with pride. “Gonna go in sweetheart, M’kay?” You nodded and he slowly slid inside you, groaning at how tight you were wrapped around him. You moaned and squeezed your eyes shut, getting used to how big he was inside you. He started to thrust in and out, slowly at first, letting you get used to him. After a minute or two, he went fast and rough, wanting to ruin your pussy for every other man. He grunted and groaned, still holding onto your neck. You reached up and dug your nails into his back, no doubt scratching it up. “Mine. You’re mine, now, baby. All mine…! Fuck!” He let go of your neck and leaned his head down, sucking hard on your nipples while fucking you harder.

“Eddie! M’gonna c-cum!” You cried out and came hard around his cock, squirting out as he kept rubbing your clit. You sobbed in pleasure and buried your face in his neck. He groaned and came inside you after a few quick thrusts. You both breathed heavily and he gently pulled out of you, making you hiss at the empty feeling. He threw the condom away and came back to your limp figure on the bed with a wet washcloth to clean you up. He rubbed at your hips.

“Sorry baby, got a little carried away.” He eyed your neck, the red spot forming a bruise matching the ones on your hips. You shook your head and sipped the cold water he gave you.

“S’okay, I like them…” Your voice was scratchy and he smiled at you, kissing you once on the lips before getting in bed with you. You snuggled up to him and shortly fell asleep before he could say anything else.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fics #Smut #friends to lovers smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x fem!reader smut #eddie my love <3

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jockbroski34 · 4 months

Text

New Blood (Chapter 2)

This is the second half of New Blood. If you haven't already, please read the first part here:

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--Braden POV--

It’s been two weeks since Jacob changed into a jock. I almost didn’t recognize him at first. He seemed pretty chill when I saw him first, but now he acted like a spitting image of Zach and even started to look the part too. I even heard rumors that they started dating, which was a surprise to me because Zach always came off as straight to me.

It was just like what happened with Bradley. They would start hanging out more and more with Zach, and then the next time you see them, they become freakishly huge and start playing football. I’ve seen it happen twice, but I am certain it has happened before. It wasn’t the first time I saw someone in my class walk in looking like they took steroids overnight, but it was uncommon enough for it to not be a noticeable problem.

Even worse, I know he’s still at it. I’ve seen Zach and “Jake” talking to a guy I know in my class, Charlie. If I had to guess, he’s their next victim, but knowing him, I’m sure he’d be begging to join them. He’s openly gay and he’s always thirsted over the guys on the football team, even preferring my brother “Brad” over me. Zach probably has him wrapped around his finger at this point. Honestly, I felt bad for him for being that desperate. I knew it would be impossible to convince someone that down bad.

One thing became clear to me after the past several months. Zach was obviously getting closer to people in order to convince them to join the football team and become jocks like him. I’ve seen it happen multiple times, and at this point, he’s gone too far. I could try to tell the school about what he has been doing, but without definitive proof, I would just look crazy. The school obviously wouldn’t care anyways because they would benefit from a better football team to put their school’s name on the board.

As far as I know, no one in the school really seems to notice or care about people changing before their very eyes. They are completely oblivious. They don’t even care that they could be the one chosen to be targeted next. I’m basically all on my own here. This has to have been happening for almost a year at this point and I have to do something. I have to stop Zach and the rest of the team from turning these students into meathead jocks.

I began to investigate Zach and the rest of the football team. I went down the roster and made a list of every person who I definitely knew had been turned into a jock. There were a few more than I had expected to be honest. About thirty percent, I believe. These people had all gone through the drastic changes involved with joining the team, including the increased body growth.

There was one person who I specifically wanted to find information on, Zach. I decided to browse his Instagram to find even a hint of any tangible evidence that I could use against him. He had a lot of photos, with most of the recent ones being him showing off his body or partying. I wouldn’t expect much else from a douchebag like him. Although my investigation did not bear much fruit, I did find something interesting. As I scrolled through his old photos, I saw a boy both similar, yet entirely different to the cocky, muscular quarterback I knew. Was he one of the ones that was changed too?

The photo, about two years ago, showed an entirely different Zach. He was certainly still tall for his age, and definitely still taller than I am now. He was more on the skinnier side, however, and his face had softer, more boyish features compared to his more chiseled self. He had a longer hairstyle which contrasted with the short style he was rocking now. He still had the same verdant green eyes, although they had a more innocent look compared to the confidence his current self was full of. If you had shown me this picture without any of the information I know, I would’ve thought this was his cute little brother.

The more I thought about it, the more I started to wonder. How did he do it? Him being one of the earlier guys to transform combined with him being the quarterback and the team captain led me to believe that he had to be one of the first, perhaps being the prototype.

I saw another photo of the old Zach from three years ago. It was him with two older men at a football game, each one of them adorning a jersey to match with the others in the crowded stadium. The man next to Zach bore enough similarities with him that I assumed that he was his father, but the other man’s identity was still a mystery. The face looked familiar however, but I figured it was just a coincidence. Maybe he was an uncle or an old family friend? Either way, I came to the conclusion that Zach was likely always into football even at a young age. I wouldn’t find it surprising that he would want to play football, but anyone with eyes could see that it would be impossible to achieve that kind of body in just two years even with nonstop training and a strict diet. I considered the possibility that steroids could have been involved, but how would he be able to even get his hands on them, let alone supply them to that many people?

I then tried to broaden my perspective a bit, and an interesting theory entered my mind. The football coach would obviously know of the changes, right? He couldn’t just turn a blind eye after some guys just randomly became jocks and wanted to join the team, right? In fact, he would have much to gain by turning his players into the ideal version of a high school football player. Stronger players mean more wins. More wins mean more success for the team and for the school. No wonder why the school doesn’t care. They are directly benefiting from this!

So I decided that I would dig deeper on the coach. Unsurprisingly, he was a former football player and coach, but decided to move to this town about three to four years ago. At the college he went to, he majored in psychology. I found the pair between football and psychology to be a strange fit, with very little overlap. But then I started to think. He obviously knows a lot about the human mind. Maybe that’s why the guys on the team like Bradley and Jacob came out acting like entirely different people. He had to have done something to them subconsciously, perhaps some form of hypnosis or brainwashing. Bradley would often mention things that obviously never happened, so I am sure his memories were tampered with. I would know. I’ve known him my entire life and he never cared about sports before now. Just as I had figured out a hypothesis on how they might have changed mentally, I still didn’t know how their bodies might have changed. I defaulted to my original idea, steroids, but I didn’t know how a high school coach would get steroids for his players. Surely he’s smart enough to want to avoid that scandal.

I remembered the coach’s face. I’ve definitely seen it before at least once at school, but it was also the other man in the photo with Zach! So it seems that the coach knew Zach before he became a jock. I’m guessing he and his father were close? If I’m on the right track, Zach could have been his guinea pig for his experiments, since he would have to be one of the first guys to undergo the jock transformation.

I wrote all of the important evidence I had into a document, but then I heard the front door open. Shit, Brad, no, Bradley came home early from football practice! I quickly saved the document onto my flash drive, and hid it in my pocket. We shared the same computer, so I couldn’t risk him finding it, even though he would probably just look up sports statistics or porn instead. Bradley was seemingly unaware by the time he entered our shared room.

“Hey bro,” Bradley said. “Doing homework already? You’re a much harder worker than me, bro.” The old Bradley would never say bro. And he was arguably a better student than me.

“Yeah,” I responded, sarcastically. I was honestly getting tired of him after all that has been going on. “Not that you would know anything about studying, you dumb brute.” I grabbed my things and left for the living room, not wanting to be anywhere near my changed brother, nor near his sweaty, unwashed clothes that he left on the floor.

“What’s wrong bro?” Bradley followed me, his large feet stomping on the floor with every step. “You not feeling alright? I’m going on a run in a little bit if you want to come with. It’ll help clear your head.” I was fuming at his ignorance. It was at this moment that I burst.

“You are what’s wrong ‘bro’! Ever since you started hanging out with Zach and joined the football team, you’ve been completely unrecognizable! You’re just another jock now!”

“So what? I like being on the team and I like hanging out with the guys.”

“Is that really you in there or is that Zach or Coach doing the talking for you? You were never like this before you met them. I know that they changed you!” I realized I may have said too much.

“I guess they did rub off on me a little, but I did this for me, bro,” I rolled my eyes at the idea that anyone would willingly agree to be transformed into a jock. “I know you and I have grown apart these past couple months, but I just want us to get along again like we used to, bro. No matter what.” He reached out for a hug, but I pushed him away. The man in front of me was not my brother. Besides, he’d probably break a bone or two.

“You are not my ‘bro’! If you want us to be brothers again, you can start by quitting the team. You’re never gonna get anywhere in life by throwing footballs and getting concussions.”

“You’ll never understand, little bro.” Bradley seemed disappointed, and left through the front door, likely going on another one of his runs. I felt a wave of anger and shame rush over me, not just at my foolish brother, but at myself for being unable to connect with him. The rest of the night went by as usual, only we were even more cold towards each other than we were earlier. Dinner was incredibly awkward, with our tension hanging over the dinner table. We avoided eye contact and didn’t even say a word to each other the whole night. As I tried to fall asleep, I knew that we couldn’t keep living like this. Something needed to change.

--Jake POV--

I woke up to the sound of an alarm in Zach’s warm embrace, his toned arms barely wrapped around my new, larger body. His thick legs tangled in between mine like a knot and his 9-inch serpent in his jockstrap pressed against my back. I had slept the night at his place again, but it was pretty common these days now that we were officially a couple. We saw each other almost every day, whether it was at school, practice, the gym, or watching football together on Sunday. The other bros grew a little jealous of us, but it’s a little hard not to be.

I thought about what happened the other day. Memories of the lessons prior were drowned out by the practice, and by me and Zach recruiting the newbie to the team. You see, Zach was not only the team captain and our star quarterback. He was also responsible for recruiting new members to the team and getting people interested in football, and he asked me to help him out, which I obviously agreed to.

Obviously I now know how the recruitment process actually works, seeing as he had done it to me weeks ago, but it is different watching it compared to seeing it happen to yourself. Unlike me, the new recruit took less time and was very eager to join the team. Charlie was a nerdy kid, and gay too, but he had a slight interest in football, but mainly for the hot guys who played it. I empathized with him, seeing as I was lusting over Zach just weeks ago. Naturally, me and Zach helped him realize that he could be one of those hot football jocks who he jerked off to, while also allowing him to appreciate the art of the game on more than a surface level. I watched Charlie transform and he was already in love with his new body and jock persona. He’s now one of the guys he’s thirsted for, and maybe if he’s lucky, he can get to suck off one of the bros. I don’t think any of them are gay, though, but if little bro tries to make a move on Zach though, I’ll beat the shit out of him. Maybe I’ll try to hook him up with another new gay recruit.

I heard a buzzing sound from the nightstand in front of me. I grabbed my phone, which lit up in the dark room. My new lock screen was a picture of me and Zach, our arms over each other’s shoulders, in our football uniforms after a hard-fought victory. Brad had messaged the group chat and it seemed like he had something important to share.

“hey bros my little bro braden is mad at me for joining the team and i think he knos about wat teh team is doin hes obv mizrabl and i want us to get along agan think zach and coach can turn him into a jock liek me?”

I remembered Braden and how antagonistic he acted towards me and the other members of the team. I still haven’t forgiven him for being so judgmental towards us. We just wanted to play football and be bros together. What was wrong with that? Judging from what Brad said, it is clear that he’s already gathering evidence on us just like he had said, as he knows about not just Zach, but Coach too. If the secrets of our program leaks, it could be very bad news. Because he was an enemy to the team, he was an enemy to me. However, I felt like I could forgive him if he joined us. Plus, I wanted him to see firsthand why we loved this lifestyle so much. I responded in the group chat.

“yea we shud do it b4 he trys telling any1 he knows about zach alredy and he knows i changed and tryd to warn me lets talk after practice”

Zach started to rise from his slumber, realizing that he had slept past his alarm and he gave me a kiss on the lips. I informed him of the situation with Braden and he agreed that this was probably the best option. I didn’t care if he would try to resist us, but he needed to know that we were not to be fucked with. Zach went downstairs to make breakfast for the two of us while I got ready for school.

I changed into one of Zach’s T-shirts that he let me wear and a pair of basketball shorts, and then I put on my hat, adorned with the team’s logo, and twisted the brim backward. Damn, I looked good. I got turned on by the man staring back at me in the mirror, with his toned body and cocky smirk that showed everyone that he was on top of the world. I could tell that my transformation was corrupting me, but in the best way possible. I loved it. This was everything I ever wanted.

On my plate were eggs, bacon, and peanut butter toast. Zach didn’t take his studies too seriously but at least he knew how to cook a good, protein-rich meal. It was a feast fit for muscular kings like ourselves. I chugged the protein shake that he made for me, rich with a chocolate flavor, before we got into my car and drove to school.

We arrived at school, sat through a bunch of boring lectures, and as soon as that was over, we went straight to practice. Earlier in the day, I bumped into Braden to show him who he was up against. He just glared back at me. It was an odd feeling knowing the power I had over others, but the idea of being stronger and better than everyone made me hard. While we waited for Coach to arrive, we discussed what to do about Braden. Charlie said that he had final period with him and that he looked at him funny. I found the coincidence that Charlie shared a class with him to be quite hilarious, and I imagined the irony of the situation to drive him insane. Brad said that his mom was going out of town for the week to visit family and his dad worked late hours, so he would have no one to pick him up.

With that information, I devised a plan. Since Brad would probably have to pick up Braden from school, we could use this opportunity in our favor and get him alone with us. Since we have practice tomorrow, he will have to stay until after we are finished, so as long as we can keep track of him, we should be able to take him to the locker room in order to be transformed. With the plan ready to go, we started practice. After that, me and Zach went to the gym and my biceps were swollen after a hard workout. I definitely reached a new high today, and I felt great. Zach decided to spend the night at my place as we tried to iron out any potential flaws in our plan. Zach seemed proud that I was taking an active role in the team.

“Hey bro, you’re doing a great job helping me to keep this team going. Whether it’s winning games, or helping out during practice, or giving new recruits the sweet taste of what it’s like to be a jock, you’re really awesome. When I first met you, I never imagined you would make this great of a jock.”

I blushed. No one had ever praised me that much. “What can I say bro? I learned from the best,” I responded as I kissed him. He wrapped his arms and body around me and spooned me like the night before. As I drifted to sleep, I reflected on Zach and the other guys on the team. They brought out the best in me. I fought for my life for them on the field just as they did for me. Off the field, they were like the brothers I never had. But Zach was the only person I felt truly understood me on a personal level. He made me who I am and he showed me how to make other guys as great as we are. And I eagerly awaited tomorrow when we would have yet another new recruit.

--Braden POV--

Looks like the jocks are at it again. Charlie was officially turned into yet another musclehead jock. We were kinda close, since we talked a bit during class, and I genuinely did get along with him despite his preference for jocks. To be honest, I thought he was kinda cute, but all he would talk about is how hot the football guys were which was a turn-off to me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he gave in to them. I’m sure he’ll have a great time taking dick in the locker room like he always dreamed of.

It was at this point that I finally developed a plan to put an end to the football team’s schemes. I learned the other day that my mom was going to visit family for the week, so I would be alone with “Brad” until my dad got home. Normally this would be a nightmare for me, since I’d have to stay at school until after his practice since he would be responsible for driving me home. I decided that while he and the other jocks were at practice, I would sneak into the locker room in order to find any evidence that these guys were turning into jocks. The more the better, but even just one piece of evidence would surely be enough to raise some suspicion against them. If I find any incriminating evidence, I’ll report it straight to the school and the police. It’s all up to me at this point.

After class, I went to the library to get some peace and quiet and to get a headstart on some homework before commencing with my operation. I found it hard to concentrate because I was so on edge. I figured I wouldn’t have any problems since practice was still over an hour long, but the anticipation was killing me. I was also distracted by heavy stomping outside. It was after school! Couldn’t they keep it down at least a little? And then, even though I should’ve been alone, I heard someone else enter the library.

It was Charlie! What was he doing here? Shouldn’t he be at practice? He was still wearing his uniform too. I had to admit, his new look did suit him. I found myself staring at his nice round bubble butt. It was always on the larger side, but it had to look even bigger now. His football pants helped to emphasize his best features. What am I even saying? Even if he was objectively more handsome, any attraction I would have for him would vanish as soon as he opened his dumb mouth.

“Hey, Brady! I didn’t know you were still here,” Charlie greeted me with a stupid grin on his face. I hated that he was trying so hard to be friendly with me.

“Yeah, Bradley has to pick me up today,” I responded. Surely just putting up with him would get him off my back for a while. The last thing I wanted was for him to interfere with my plans. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at practice.”

“I forgot my book in class, so I went to go get it really quick. But then, I saw you. Brad did say that he would be picking you up today.” What an odd excuse. I couldn’t imagine the coach letting him leave practice early for a stupid reason like that.

“Couldn’t you just go after practice? Like don’t you have better things to do?”

“I told Coach I’d be quick. Plus, I wanted to see you!” He wrapped his meaty arm around my scrawny shoulder. I could smell a strong waft from his armpit, from the sweat of a hard workout. I would’ve pushed him off me, but there was little point fighting back against a man as strong as he is. It was a friendly gesture anyways.

“I’m kinda sad that we don’t talk much, bro. I know I spend a lot of time on the football team, but I would’ve liked to get to know you better. I think you should join the team so we can hang out more.”

“I’m not…” my annoyant tone was paused as Charlie pushed his face into mine. He was kissing me? I had to admit, he was a good kisser, both strong and passionate. I wasn’t sure if he was naturally like this or if his jock side made him a better kisser. As our lips parted, I felt my face turn beet red. I was overwhelmed, embarrassed, confused, furious, annoyed…No. I couldn’t find any one word to describe how I felt. I knew I wasn’t supposed to kiss him, but it did genuinely feel nice even if I couldn’t stand Charlie the jock. I had to get it together. He was obviously trying to mess with me, but my answer stayed the same. “I’m not joining the team.”

“Yes you are,” a voice said as a set of hands grabbed me from behind. Before I could call out for help, one of the firm hands covered my mouth, deafening my cries for help. Fuck, it was Jake! He must’ve snuck in while I was distracted and disoriented. He effortlessly picked me up and shoved me into a black gym bag. I was trapped. I couldn’t see a thing and no one could hear me either. It was a tight fit and I couldn’t fight back against the scent of old, sweaty gym clothes.

“Good work, little bro,” Jake said as he high-fived Charlie. “Now let’s take him to the locker room.” Shit, they were already one step ahead of me. I had to admit, these meathead jocks were smarter than I thought. I remembered Charlie’s words and I realized what they were going to do to me. They were planning to turn me into a jock! This cannot be happening. As I tried to think of a plan to get out of this situation, my mind became clouded by the intoxicating scent inside the bag. I hated the smell of sweat and musk, but for some reason, I started to feel a little hard. For some reason, I picked up one of the articles of clothing, a sweaty unwashed jockstrap, and out of curiosity, I found myself sniffing it. I became distracted by the pungent smell momentarily as I was carried to my destination.

When I finally saw light again, I was surrounded by a horde of members of the football team in the locker room. They all stood in a circle and they looked like predators, and I was their prey. I contemplated the idea of running, but I knew it was physically impossible to outrun even one of them with their superior athletic abilities. I thought about begging for mercy, but I knew they could not be reasoned with and because of my pride, I didn’t want me to come across as weak. Brad walked over to me, carrying an entire football uniform that seemed way too big for me.

“Put them on, bro,” he ordered. I obliged, seeing as I no longer had any say in the matter. I felt a sense of embarrassment because the clothes were way too big on me. It felt like I was a kid trying to wear his dad’s clothes.

“You’ll grow into it, trust me,” Jake said, his hand on Zach's shoulder, a proud smirk plastered on his face. My worst fears were realized. I didn’t know how but they were going to turn me into one of them, yet another jock.

“You’re probably wondering why we brought you here, little bro. Well, we know you’ve been trying to get in our way. You’re the only student in this school who knows or even cares what we do. You’re the minority, bro,” Brad explained. He reached into my backpack which he was holding and pulled out the flash drive that stored all my evidence. “I noticed that you were trying to hide this the other day when I came in. You might just think I’m a ‘dumb brute’ but even I couldn’t miss something that obvious. I wonder why you had to hide it, bro…” he teased as he inserted it into a laptop on one of the benches. It didn’t take long for him to find the document I used to share my findings.

“Well, well…” Zach teased. “Looks like someone did their research. I’m kinda impressed at how much you use your brain, bro. Too bad you won’t be needing it for much anymore.” He then proceeded to delete the file as my hard work was erased from the flash drive. I felt mortified as my hard work was all for nothing and I realized what was going to become my fate. I then heard footsteps coming in from outside.

“I believe this is our first time meeting,” a commanding voice stated. From the way he spoke, I felt any amount of defiance I still had in me turn into submissiveness, like a father catching his son sneaking out at night. “It seems you already know who I am, but I’m Coach Myers. I’m sure you’re full of questions, and don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of time to answer every last one of them.”

I was looking at the man in charge, the mastermind behind all of the jocks who were transformed. I had so much I wanted to ask him, both out of curiosity and anger, that I didn’t know where to start.

“What caused you to turn these students into jocks?” I asked.

“Good question. I was always interested in bringing out the best in one’s self, but I never knew where to start until recently. Me and Zach’s father were close friends in the NFL. As a result, Zach always looked up to me, but even though he wanted to be a football player like his father, he wasn’t able to cut it.”

I looked at Zach, who normally seemed very confident and arrogant, but for the first time since I’ve seen him, for just a split second, he felt humbled, reminded of his shortcomings. For once, I kinda felt bad for the guy even though I thought he was a total douche. Despite the sob story, I still realized that what he had done was too far.

“He approached me in tears one day. He wished he was stronger, wished he was more like the guys he looked up to at school. And that’s when I realized that maybe I could help him. And so we spent almost a year studying ways to transform his body and even his mind into the perfect football player. And eventually, we succeeded. Zach was exactly the person he dreamed of being.”

I now knew why and how it began. Zach was the first, the alpha. But why did he keep doing it? “You helped to make Zach who he is now, but why did you continue to do it to other students?” I asked.

“I’m glad you asked. Although changing Zach was my finest achievement, I realized that there were many kids his age who were just like him. Some felt inadequate, incomplete, inferior, and some just lacked any purpose in general. So I gave these boys that purpose, and I made them into the strong men that they always dreamed of being. And not just in this school. High schools and colleges all across America are doing the exact same thing we are doing, all thanks to my innovations.”

I was shocked by this revelation. This jock problem was happening at an even larger scale than I could’ve possibly imagined. Surely there had to have been hundreds of guys turned into jocks just like here at this school, perhaps even some of the ones that tried to oppose them like me. I realized how hopeless I felt.

“I know my research is unethical but I believe that what I am doing is right. But back to you, do you not feel at least a little envious of your brother?”

I looked over at Brad…why was I calling him Brad? I have to admit, I was always a little jealous of him. He always seemed to be the favorite child, and now that he’s been jocked and has joined the football team, he’s infinitely more popular than me. If I were just like him, then maybe…No. That’s what he wants me to think. But at the same time, I could imagine myself becoming as strong as him, becoming as popular as him.

And then I realized the futility of this decision. They were going to turn me into a jock anyways. But for some reason, I had warmed up to the idea, in a way that would’ve sickened me just an hour earlier. Maybe I was experiencing Stockholm Syndrome, or maybe I did feel envious of Brad this whole time just like how Coach Myers described.

“Coach can make you just like he made me. We’ll finally get along again, and we can bond better than we ever could before. What do you say bro?” Brad asked.

I looked at my brother, then around to the other jocks around me, then finally to Coach. If I said yes, then I would have a brother again. I’ll be more attractive and more popular and maybe I’ll even be happier this way. Maybe Charlie will want to go out with me. But that would mean erasing who I am to become yet another jock. That I would lose and all of this would be for nothing. Who am I kidding? I already lost. I was doomed to become a jock the moment I tried to intervene in their plans. But you know, maybe this isn’t so bad. I tried to imagine my jock life with a newfound sense of optimism.

“You’ll have to consent to joining the team before we can move forward,” Coach informed me.

“Enough with your monologue, I’ll do it,” I answered, with a sense of humiliation as I surrendered. However, there was a slight smirk on my face, either from embarrassment or from how absurd my situation really was.

“That took less time than I expected,” Coach responded. “The rest of you, resume practice drills. Braden, come with me.” I obliged, anticipating what the Coach had in store for me. I signed a form, put on some earbuds, and put the helmet on.

As the hypnotic video in front of me played, I slowly became entranced by the spiral that was sucking me into my new life as I felt parts of my mind become erased, including any part of me that still tried to resist this. “I wanted this,” I thought to myself as new thoughts and memories started to fill the gaps in my mind. It was like a computer deleting old files that weren’t important in order to make room for stuff that mattered way more. I always looked up to my brother Brad, as he was a year older than me. He was incredibly talented at football, so naturally, I followed in his footsteps. Being younger, I was less experienced than him, but he was a good role model and I aspired to match him as a player. He was like the touchdown in the endzone and I was at the 50 yard line to put it in better terms.

My body changed entirely. Every muscle in my body expanded, like I was being pumped full of air. My football uniform that was way too big at first, soon fit me like a glove. It was a little painful at first, but I soon felt a wave of euphoria rush over me as I became obsessed with my body, especially my new dick, which more than doubled in size to a massive 10 inches. I started to resemble the new Brad, with the same short buzzcut. Before we didn’t look much alike. Brad was always more on the chubby side and I was on the skinnier side. But now, we could almost pass as twins. You could still tell which one of us was the little brother though.

This is who I am. This is who I always was. I am a football jock. I started to love the idea of playing sports and working out, along with other things. Except I always did? Part of me remembered thinking the jocks were stupid, arrogant, and annoying brutes, but that’s wrong because all my friends are jocks and they are really cool, bro. Bro. Bro, bro, bro…I’m starting to like that word, dude. Eventually I woke up, without any knowledge of what had taken place today, reveling in my new changes.

“I take it you won’t be a problem anymore, kid?” Coach inquired.

“No Coach! I’m sorry for causing you trouble dude,” I answered. Part of me felt off, and I felt confused for a second. I wondered what got me in trouble, but I shrugged it off because I don’t think about that kind of stuff.

“I did keep some of your smarts, unlike the others, but you definitely won’t come off that way. Your grades were better than the rest and I figured it’d be a waste if they were to completely go away. How would you like to help me expand upon my research?”

“That’d be awesome, sir!” I answered. My new self couldn’t comprehend the irony that I would be directly helping Coach with the very schemes I was trying so hard to stop in the first place. But why would I ever want to put an end to the very thing that made me who I am now? I didn’t look or act the part, but I’m kinda smart I guess. I’m not a fucking nerd or a know-it-all though. Not that I really want to use my brain more than I have to except for counting calories and football plays. I was interested in turning more men into awesome jocks like me though. “Can I go back to practice?”

“Yeah, go meet up with the other boys. I’ll be out in a sec.”

I joined my fellow bros and we resumed practice. Playing football just felt natural to me. We held a party after the game on Friday to celebrate our win. We were on a huge winning streak. We hadn’t even lost once this season! At the party, Charlie asked me out, impressed with my masculine new look. Turns out he did like me back after all. He kissed me in the library after all, although I don’t remember why we were there in the first place. He was always kinda hot, so I said yes, and we quickly realized how much chemistry we had beyond being bros. We were soon the second couple on the team, the other being Jake and Zach, who were a year above us, who were just as cool. Nothing wrong with some bro on bro action after all.

Me and Brad had a bit of a fight a while ago, but we’re cool now. I’m even closer with my big bro than I had ever been before, especially now that we’re on the team together. I loved life with my bros and I knew my bros loved their lives too. After practice, I would stay after with Coach and Zach and we would look into ways to create more and even better jocks. I haven’t been filled in on the finer details yet, but I know that they have big plans not only for this school, but for other schools as well. I found this purpose along with playing football to be much more compelling to me than anything else. If there was a part of me that was upset about this life, it definitely wasn’t there anymore because I loved being a jock.

--Zach POV--

I spent the night at Jake’s place again. Today was a long day though. Between practice and all the stuff with Braden, I was exhausted. It did feel like everything was resolved though, and I felt satisfied knowing that our secrets were safe now. I laid in Jake’s bed and I talked with him.

“Another jock well done bro,” I said, as I wrapped my arms around and kissed my boyfriend.

“We were awesome today,” Jake responded. “I can tell that Braden is already loving his new jock body. Glad he could finally see the light, bro.”

“Can’t blame him. I have no regrets about anything though, even Braden. How about you bro?”

“Me neither. I love being a jock and I love making my bros into jocks too. I’m with you every step of the way, bro.”

“That’s my bro!” I rustled Jake’s hair before leaning in for a kiss. For the first time ever, I felt completely content with my life. I have Jake, Coach, and all my other bros to support me. I’m the captain and star quarterback of the football team and I carry us to victory every game. The jock life is perfect for me and for all my bros. If even Braden could see how awesome it was, I knew that anyone could if given the chance. I got hard as I imagined what it would be like if every guy at school was as strong and handsome as me. If everyone was a jock. With Jake on my side and everyone else, I knew we could take on anything, anyone. Maybe even the world. “We still have lots of work to do.”

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This is the end of this series for now, so thank you for reading it. I'm open to expanding upon it even more in the future if the demand is high enough and if I have ideas on where to take it. I also have a lot of other shorter transformation story ideas that I want to write eventually, so stay tuned.

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vacantfields · 3 months

Text

So... Here it is (:

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Your hands were shaking around the backpack you were holding. It contained gifts for the two animatronics you cared so much about, the ones you hurt.

You wanted to apologize to them for your behavior; it wasn't right of you to avoid them in the way that you did just due to their new looks.

Sun's heartbroken expression jumps into your mind, and you frown, softly sighing as you look down at the bag; the flap of it is open. The bag held arts and crafts supplies and those glow-in-the-dark stickers Moon had mentioned once or twice. Hopefully, if the boys saw this, they would hear you out.

Once you moved to the Daycare doors, you stood half-frozen in panic. It shouldn't be an issue coming here to the place now, as the kids wouldn't have gotten in yet. You groan to yourself, gently resting your forehead against the big wooden doors to the daycare. If they don't accept your apology, you'll lose the best friends you have ever had. Raising your head from the door, you grabbed the doorknob and pushed the door open ever so slowly; it creaked quietly, but before you stepped in, you could hear the two jesters talking.

"... I really thought they would like the new looks, Moon..." Sun sounded so sad, and it seemed like this talk had been happening for a while.

Moon hummed in response before answering. "I think they do, Sunshine. I think they were just... Surprised?"

Sun let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah? Because we are so surprising to see?" Then, someone gets playfully pushed due to the bells jingling that could be heard. After a short silence, you could hear their laughter through the door you were hiding behind and more pushing around.

You suppose you caught the end of the conversation, so as you could hear the soft jingling of bells and soft laughter and giggles, you pushed the door open further and walked into the daycare, the bag tightly in your hands.

The laughter and playfighting stopped immediately, and eyes snapped to your wildly shaking form. You thank yourself quietly for wearing your cap and oversized jacket so you could hide a little. It was quiet but somehow loud for what felt like eons.

Then, Sun finally spoke; god bless that guy. "Star? I thought you weren't coming back?" He sounded so careful that if he spoke any faster, he would scare you off. Moon remained quiet, you noticed. You stood there for a bit, taking some deep breaths, and then you heard more jingling, meaning they both jumped down from where they sat. The jingling of bells stopped, and you finally looked up and saw Sun in front of you on his knees, so he wasn't too terribly tall. He had a small but careful smile on his lips. Since he was this close, you could finally take all the details in his skin. He looked so soft, and his eyes looked so bright and friendly.

"Starlight...?" Sun said softly, with a frown, as he moved his large hand up and carefully wiped a tear away from under your eye with his thumb, cupping your cheek with the rest of his hand. You hadn't noticed you had begun crying. Your blurry eyes went to Moon, who loomed over Sun's shoulder from behind; even he looked worried.

"Ah, sorry! Sorry..." You quickly spoke as you sniffled and flinched a bit from Sun's soft touch, but he kept you steady, his free hand resting on your arm. "Star..." Sun tried, but you held a hand up, so he paused. Moon watched you cautiously, his hands at his sides. "I'm... I'm sorry for the way I acted and the way I treated you guys. I’m so so so sorry." You tried to hold your voice steady as you looked at both jesters.

Sun's rays peeked out through his curly locks and gave a weak spin, a sweet smile on his lips. "Oh, daydream... Beloved little sunflower." he sounded so fond, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. You smiled, although a bit awkwardly, but you leaned into Sun's hand that still rested on your cheek. You glanced at Moon, who let out the loudest dramatic sigh, his head tilted back and his long black hair hanging behind him as he lowered himself onto his knees, looking at you sternly for a bit, his red eyes narrowed.

You watched him with widened eyes before Moon moved his hand over his claws, sheathed, and cupped your other cheek. "You should have apologized sooner, Star." You weakly nod as both Daycare attendants cup each side of your face.

"I’m really sorry... I brought you two some gifts in hopes of making it up to you or at least just a tiny bit..." You softly muttered, then held up the bag, to which Moon removed his hand from your face and gently pried the bag out of your grip so gently that you barely noticed Sun's rays spinning slowly. Moon gently sat back, using both hands to open the bag; you and Sun watched as Moon's expression changed from sad to excited. The soft grin that appeared on your lips when Moon's eyes widened as he held up the small bag of glow-in-the-dark star stickers was so worth the hours of driving around to get them worth it.

He looked to Sun and shook the bag of stickers like an excited kid on Christmas. "Sunny! Sunny!" Moon said with the happiest grin, and Sun's rays spun faster, and a happy giggle escaped his lips. "I see them, Moonlight, I see them!"

Even you let out a small laugh; the moment was warm and tender as you and Sun watched Moon stand up, the bag of stickers tightly in his clawed, excited grip. "I will be right back. I have to put them in our room!" He said with such excitement neither you nor Sun could stop him, not that you wanted to. You watched him attach their aerial wire and fly so quickly that he almost tripped onto the small stage that sat high up on the wall.

When Moon disappeared behind the curtains, your eyes returned to Sun, who was rummaging through the bag to see his gift; it was different colored paper, pencils, and even some paints. You could see his rays spin slowly, a content whirr from his fans as he put them down carefully and turned back to you, who was still standing there.

When Sun didn't speak, you opened your mouth for some reason.

"Its... Kinda funny that even after hours, you're both still dressed in your silly jester costumes." Your face flushed, and you let out a weak chuckle. Sun smiled at that. "Hm... Well, we have been a bit out of the loop due to someone!" He sing-sung to you with a teasing grin, to which you frowned. Sun chuckled at your expression as he sat back on his heels, his hands resting on his thighs. "Thank you for the gifts, Star, but you really didn't have to, you know?" He hummed as a soft grin stayed on his lips. "I know you think we deserve everything, but we just wanted our best friend." Your face once again turned red with how fast it flushed at his soft voice.

Sun raised his large hand and gently pat your hip with a slight grin before he stood up at his full height again, the bag of his gifts in his free hand as the other traveled up to your chin, his knuckle hitched under it and tilted your head up; you looked at him curiously then he sent you a wink and a smile as he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before looking down at you again.

"Are you going to stay for a slumber party then?"

"I don't... I didn't pack any clothes or items I need to do that, though?" You said, flustered, your voice no longer steady as you watched him with widened eyes.

"Hmm..." Sun moved his hand from under your chin to tap his own with a finger. "Well, clothes... You just need something to sleep in, right? You can borrow one of Moon and I's if you want to," He said with a smile. "As for... items as you say, I'm sure I can find a toothbrush or something in the gift store! And for a bed... Well, you can lay right in between us." He said with a huge grin.

You needed to get away from this teasing, giant android right now. "Moonie?" You called out, to which Moon responded by standing out on the small stage high up on the daycare wall. "Yes, Moonbeam?" he called back with a smile.

"Sunny is trying to make me stay over!"

Moon reattached his wire and lowered himself down to you and Sun. "Ohh.. But what if I also want you to stay?"

"What? You know I can't stay-" You began frantic and flustered.

Moon stood next to Sun. Both of the androids looked down at you, almost pleading.

"Guys! The rules say I can't stay-" You got cut off by Moon, who put a hand on your head to take the cap off your head and put it on his own. "You and I know those rules are not rules anymore, dear Star." He hummed, and Sun nodded. "It's a true daydream! They changed it! So you could totally stay here with Moon and me for the night!" Sun spoke excitedly in his voice, his rays doing a spin and his hands clapping.

You were blushing so hard you felt like you were going to faint. Being alone with the jesters at night would be different now that they look like... well, for a lack of better words. Hot.

They were both 8’5, so double your height, basically; they were built toned, with broad shoulders and chests, a slim waist, and arms and legs that looked toned. They looked like models of some sort for a more risky line of clothing.

Your thoughts ran in circles about the idea of them being models, but you snapped out of it when you heard Moon snapping his fingers in front of your face.

"Hey, Moon to Star!" He said, but he sounded amused. "You have been staring at our chests for a long time." Oh, His grin looked dangerous, like he knew he had you in his claws now. You pouted up at Moon.

"Don't be mean. I just zoned out, and you two are so tall it's hard to look into your eyes!" you tried to defend, but Sun just snorted but managed to keep his laughter in as he covered his mouth with his hand.

Moon hummed with a smile. "I see. I suppose that's fair, little stargazer." he chuckled before putting his hands behind his back, his arms folded there as he tilted his head, his faceplate tilting a little as well. "But you should stay the night."

Sun nodded his head quickly to that. "Yes! You must stay! Please, Starlight?" He put his hands together in a plea.

You watched the two for a long while, keeping them in suspense, but then you sighed and nodded. "Alright. I will stay."

They both jumped up excitedly and even high-fived, which made you giggle.

Oh, these two made your heart pound. You watched Sun and Moon fondly as they excitedly started to plan the slumber party. A tender smile on your lips.

Things were okay.

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Part 2

Part 1

hope you guys enjoyed (:

#Things Are Better AU #dca fandom #dca au #dca x reader #daycare attendant x reader #sun x reader #sun x y/n #moon x reader #moon x y/n #writing #fluff #sweet #soft #see? everythings alright (:#.... for now >:]

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