#sky beater

[illusioninfnty]

day 13 ; mommy kink

↠ brahms heelshire x reader

fandom: the boy word count: 1k warnings: nsfw 18+, dom!reader, unprotected sex, creampie, slight choking (m receiving)

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

Nighttime in the Heelshire mansion was always your favorite. Brahms still preferred the comfort of his spaces within the walls during the days. He only came out when the sun went down, the only light source being the glimmer of the moon.

At night, you could do whatever you wanted to him.

Your hips bounce up and down on top of Brahms, his cock filling you so perfectly. You’re able to move yourself so that the tip of it hits you in just the right spot, causing you to see stars.

“So good for me,” you croon. Brahms’ hands tighten around your hips at your words. His muscles tense as you continue to ride him and his cock throbs inside of you.

Brahms was still mostly clothed, his pants unbuttoned and underwear pulled down to unsheath his cock. His wife beater was doused in his sweat, sticking to his chest.

And that damn mask. No matter what you did, you could never convince him to take it off.

Even now, as he lay trembling underneath you, his soft moans echoed out of the porcelain mask that covered his face. 

You lean over him and ghost your hands over his neck. Brahms cranes his head up, pressing deeper into the bedsheets, almost as if inviting you closer. You let one hand rest on his neck, thumb caressing it gently while your other trails down his chest, finding its way under his top to stroke his stomach. 

Gyrating your hips on his cock, you moan. “Touch my clit, Brahms.”

He obeys immediately, removing a hand off your hip to bring it to your clit. He rubs the area harshly, yet just enough to still make you feel good. He’s been learning, you think.

You smirk at his complacency. “Good boy.” 

A soft gasp, almost inaudible, escapes his lips. If you were anyone else you probably would have not heard it. But you were used to Brahms’ quiet nature and always paying attention to him.

The effect those words had on him were more than you expected. His hips, previously still and under your full control, begin to buck up into you. Through the mask, you can see his eyes widen and pupils dilate. His breathing is even heavier than before, and the hand placed upon his neck can feel as he swallows hard.

“P…please…” he stutters out in a whisper. “Mommy.”

Your ears perk up. Mommy? He’s never called you that before.

“Speak up,” you command. You tighten around him, and he gasps in surprise.

“Mommy!” He whines out, his hips bucking more furiously into you. He thrusts into you harder than he’s ever done. You’ve always been the one to take initiative and control the pace as you sit on top of him.

But it seems as though he’s fueled by this, as if you’ve just discovered an innate pleasure deep inside of him. You can’t help but groan at how much his cock presses into you with the newfound force of his thrusts. Your hands grip him tighter.

If he was going to get so much pleasure out of calling you Mommy, who were you to deny him that?

“You’re doing so well, baby,” you say. Brahms pants from under his mask, and his cock seems to grow bigger—if that was even possible. It feels so good inside you.

If his mask was off, you knew that you would be able to see a blush across his features. “Thank you Mommy,” he whimpers out.

Some of his dark curls begin to stick to the top of his mask from all the sweat coming out of him. You push some of them away, getting a better look. Brahms looks up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. All this from your indulgence in his fantasies.

You bounce up and down on his thick cock, much harder than before.

“Mommy!” Brahms calls out. His chest heaves and his cock pulses as he rapidly thrusts up, chasing his release. “Feels so good, Mommy!”

“Does my good boy want to cum?” you coo, mocking him gently. Brahms’ head nods rapidly, soft whines leaving his lips. “Mommy will only let you cum if you help her first.”

He immediately follows your commands. He rubs circles on your clit and holds your hip with his other hand to ground himself as he pistons into you. The bed creaks under the intensity of his thrusts.

Your own back is arched, chasing more of the fullness you feel with Brahms inside you. You tighten your hands around Brahms, returning one to his neck while the other remains on his lower stomach, and he groans lowly.

“There you go, baby. Make Mommy cum.” You can feel how close you are to your peak. Between Brahms' cock pistoning in and out of you, his soft whimpers coming from below, and the thick fingers he has rubbing against your clit, it’s only a matter of seconds before you reach it.

“Oh fuck,” you moan and throw your head back, the multiple areas of pleasure overwhelming you. Your orgasm comes not even seconds later, your pussy even slicker than before with the wetness of it.

When you recover from it, you can see how Brahms' arms tremble, a sign he was fighting back the urge to cum at that very moment.

You smile down at him. “Mommy’ll let you cum now,” you say.

Brahms lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you Mommy, thank you,” he repeats over and over as his cum jets out of him and into your pussy. You feel the heat enter you in groves and some of it spill out onto the sides of his cock, wetting it even more as his thrusts persist.

The hand on his neck moves up to his cheek, caressing the area not concealed by the mask.

Brahms’ thrusts finally stop as he comes down from his peak, short gasps escaping his mouth. You lean down over him.

“Mommy’s so proud of you, baby,” you whisper into his ear.

Brahms whimpers in response, and his cock pulses back to life.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #brahms x reader #brahms heelshire x reader #the boy x reader #brahms heelshire smut

[msgexymunson]

Forbidden Fruit

Description: The newest object of your affections happens to be Eddie; your father's closest friend!

A/N: this is just smut personified and I ain't even sorry. Enjoy it with caution, hells saving a mighty fine warm spot for you ;). 

Warnings: age gap, Eddie's in his forties, reader implied 20s. Voyeurism, fingering, p in v unprotected sex (wrap the thingy, trust me I'm old) 

5k words

Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Delicate fingers are slipping under the waistband of your sleep shorts. You stroke at your soft skin, running in teasing patterns. Your body begins to react to your secret touches, downy hairs starting to stand on end as your skin prickles with sensation. Then your hand drifts lower, lower, until it meets your pubic hair. Massaging your breast with your other hand you try to relax and empty your mind, just focus on the feeling. Not that it works. All you see when you close your eyes is Eddie. 

This is wrong. So fucking wrong. He was at least 20 years your senior. Hell, he was one of your father's closest friends. It may as well be forbidden. He probably thinks of you more like a daughter than a lover. 

You couldn't help it though. Recently he was just looking so damn fine. You're not sure if it was just him getting better with age, or you growing up and appreciating the man in front of you. Either way, woof. 

Your fingers find your clit as you think back to earlier today; the events of which hadn't been much help in quenching your mounting feelings. It had been a lovely day, the sun was beating down and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Eddie and your father had teamed up to do some of the yard work. Eddie was always on hand to help with any manual labour, or to fix things. He was really very good with those hands. 

Well, it was a beautiful day, so sunbathing seemed perfectly acceptable behaviour, and not an excuse to be in the yard at all. Nuh uh. You'd headed outside in your skimpy red bikini, book in hand, and laid on a lounger keeping one eye on Eddie. 

God, he'd looked particularly good today. His hair was grasped in a messy bun with a shock of grey and white visible through it. His stubble looked a few days old, peppering his chin and sharp jaw. Those eyes of his sparkled, a deep chocolate brown you wanted to dive into. Jeans clung to his muscular thighs, only wearing an old wife beater on top, showing off his tattoos and chiselled arms. There was a brief moment when he'd lifted up his vest to use it to wipe the sweat from his brow. Abs had gleamed in the midday sun, flexing and taunting you on purpose, or at least it had felt that way. 

When your father had gone inside to grab them both a beer, Eddie had sauntered over to you and crouched right by your lounger. You had done everything you could to keep your face neutral, even though your head was screaming and flinging its metaphorical hands in the air. 

"Hey sweetheart." 

The gravel in his voice sent shivers down your spine. 

"Hey Mr Munson." You responded, trying to keep your eyes on your book. 

"How many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Eddie." 

You glanced over and saw a slow grin creeping across his face, as he eyed you up and down. Is he checking me out? 

Tearing his eyes away, he spoke again. 

"So, where's the little boyfriend today?" 

"What? Oh, him. We broke up. He was… selfish" you reminded yourself of all those disappointing encounters, flicking through your mind like a magazine of the mundane.

His grin widened at that. 

"Oh, that's such a shame." 

He sounded so sincere, but that smile of his was certainly telling a different story. You found yourself looking at the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned. Probably thought he wasn't good enough for me, just like father said. 

It was like he'd read your mind. 

"He wasn't good enough for you anyway." 

"You think?" 

He'd leaned into you, as if telling a secret. You could smell him, lingering sweat, aftershave and cigarettes. Drawn to him, you'd sat up and moved a little closer. His words were a whisper in your ear, his hot breath on your neck making your heart beat just a little too fast.  

"What you need is a real man." 

Mouth falling open, you snapped your head to face him. A quick wink and he was back on his feet, smiling at your father who had just returned from the kitchen. He had walked off without a glance back. 

You press your clit harder at the memory of his words, your other hand snaking its way into your top to tease at your hardened nipple. A real man. 

Was he talking about himself? Or had he just been teasing you for your taste in boys? Either way, his words had made you wet, your thighs clinging together in supplication. 

Fuck it. If he was on your mind you may as well lean into it. Your thoughts wandered, making up scenarios in your head, thinking of those thick fingers replacing yours. Your speed on your clit doubles, thighs squeezing together. It still wasn't enough. There wasn't enough pressure. 

Pulling your hand away in a huff, your eyes land on a cushion on your bed. Hmm, now that just might do. 

Clambering to your bare knees, you straddle it, positioning the seam to sit just where you needed it. 

Now, this was better. You could almost imagine him underneath you as you humped at his impressive length. You assume he had a huge cock. Well, he did in your fantasies anyway. Pulling your top off and away, you tease at your sensitive nipples, one hand keeping the cushion in place. 

So close, you were so close. The warm feeling was pooling in your belly, your clit humming with desire. Scrunching your eyes shut and whimpering, a particularly good rub had you moaning out "Eddie!" 

Unfortunately, you had failed to hear the approaching footsteps. 

"Yeah sweetheart?" 

Frozen, you can only watch in abject horror as your bedroom door swings open and the object of your fantasies is standing in the door frame. 

"Oh shit, I thought- did you just say my name?" He seems split between looking away and getting an eyeful. 

Grasping the bed sheet you quickly cover up your bare chest, cheeks burning scarlet. 

"Sorry." He adds, looking you up and down one last time, and finally swings the door shut. 

Well that's it, now I need to move to a different state. Fuck fuck fuck. 

"Hey, honey, come hear a sec!" Your mother's voice, ringing up the stairs. Trying to get the blood to diffuse from your cheeks with sheer force of will, you hastily scramble to put your top back on. 

"Coming!" You shout back. Well, you nearly had. So fucking close. 

Making your way downstairs past the bathroom you see your parents arm in arm, Eddie spread out on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. Practically feeling his grin from here, you focus on your parents. 

"We're going out to dinner hon. Mr Munson here, well he was going to have a look at the cable. I can't get the damn thing to work. Sure you don't mind Eddie? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" Your father looks towards Eddie with his question. 

"Nope. Completely free. I'm sure I can fix it." 

"Thanks buddy, you're a lifesaver. Hon, can you look after him? Make sure to give Mr Munson anything he needs." 

Cheeks flaring again with heat, you mumble out your agreement. 

"Thanks sweetie!" Your mother adds, planting a peck on your cheek. Then, they leave. It's just you and Eddie. 

He begins to walk towards you. The walls suddenly seem too close, your skin itchy, hairs standing on end. He stops in front of you, too close for comfort. A rough hand reaches to you and you flinch. He quickly pulls it away. 

"Well, better fix the cable." He smiles at you, and turns on his heel to the TV room, leaving you staring at his retreating ass as he leaves. 

Maybe he's not going to mention it? 

The thought seems too good to be true. You turn to leave, back the way you came, but a strange force is pulling at your gut. Pretty soon you're standing in the door frame of the TV room, staring at Eddie's ass as he bends to look at the cable box.

Fuck, that perfect ass.

He must have changed from earlier. Maybe he'd had a shower? He certainly smelled good. Staring at his back you notice his hair looked damp. 

OK, so, ignore what happened. Eddie seemed to be. Act natural. Be a good host. 

"Eddie, do you want a beer?" 

He doesn't bother looking back, but you hear his deep voice say, "sure thing sweetheart." 

Making your way back to the kitchen, you grab a beer for him and one for yourself, to steady your nerves. 

Placing it on the coffee table, you let him know it's behind him, as you swig your own. 

"Could you come down here sweetheart? I need a hand." 

You fall to your knees beside him. 

"Show me your hands?" 

Confused, you hold your palms up. 

"Perfect, tiny hands. Here." And he grasps one, swallowing it up in his large palm. The skin on skin contact is a shock to your system. 

He pulls your arm gently. 

"There's a cable right there, can you reach that?" 

Sticking your tongue out of the corner of your mouth, you extend your arm, reaching into the gap he couldn't quite hit. 

"Got it." 

"That's it. Good girl." You suck in a sudden breath at his words, warmth simmering in your core. Eddie doesn't seem to notice. 

He's adjusting some other cable, moving the network box to a better position as you stare at the veins in his neck. 

"So, did you finish?" 

"Huh?" Confusion floods your face as you scrunch your eyes at his words. 

"Earlier, when I walked in. Did you finish?" 

Your mouth hangs open. He mentioned it so nonchalantly, not even gaining eye contact. You're so shocked that you answer him without thinking about it. 

"N-no." 

"Shame." 

What sort of alternative reality is this? 

"OK, can you feel my hand? Give me that cable." 

You pass it to him wordlessly, fingers brushing his ever so slightly. 

"There. Should be fine now. Try the remote."

Turning the TV on, it does indeed work. You switch it off as Eddie sits back on his heels. 

"It just wasn't wired correctly. Easy mistake to make. So, you need a hand?" 

"Huh?" You sound out doltishly as he swigs his beer. 

"Seemed like you could do with some help earlier is all." 

Swallowing hard at his words, you feel your thighs clench and your heart race. 

"Eddie, what are you saying, exactly?" Words spilling out a lot calmer than you felt. 

"All I'm saying is, you looked like you could use some help. I reckon I could help you out. A lot more than a cushion, anyway." He says, a slow smile spreading over his face making your knees want to melt.

You stare and stare, momentarily lost for words. 

"Come on sweetheart, there's a reason why you were moaning my name. We need to get whatever this is out of our system. " 

You will your legs to move, to flee. They don't. They have their own agenda it seems, taking a shaky step towards him, and another. He's still kneeling on the floor, a slight smirk pulling at his face as if he has all the time in the world. 

Your knees do buckle then, under the weight of his words, as you mirror his position. There's a slight gap between you, but you're closer than you think you ever have been. The air between you seems to hum with desire, an electric current buzzing back and forth. 

Reaching out with hesitant fingers, you finally close the distance, resting your hand softly on his knee. 

"I'm- I'm sorry that I, erm, said your name, it's so damn embarrassing-" 

"Don't be sorry," he responds, his giant hand coming to rest over yours sending your pulse into overdrive, "that was the hottest thing I've ever seen." 

"Really?" You can't help the disbelief dripping all over your tone. 

"You're kidding right? I've been fuckin' hard for the last hour, I'm sure it's not healthy." 

You giggle into your hand at his confession and move to look down, but his hand is on your jaw then, pulling your chin up. 

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, you know. We can just forget all this and I'll leave." 

His stare is firm and sincere, but there's an undercurrent of need behind those eyes, one that's making the pulse between your legs hammer out a tattoo on your insides. 

Before it even registers in your head, you're the one pushing toward him, drawn in by that stare. Your lips are crushing against his when you realise you had taken the leap and kissed him. Eddie's hand presses into the small of your back, pushing you bodily against him, the other snaking into your hair. Opening your mouth to deepen the kiss his tongue begins to slide against yours. Never had a kiss felt so good, so sordid. You wrap your arms around his middle to steady yourself as he explores your mouth greedily. 

A slam of a car door snaps you back to reality; pushing your body off him hurriedly you look around with wild eyes. 

"Hey, sweetheart, it's OK. It's not them, it's too early for that." 

You stop and listen, and realise he's right. 

"Sorry." 

"Hey, it's OK." He smiles, flooding your tummy with warmth. 

"You wanna go and get comfortable, sweets? We can, well, just this once."

You nod and stand up wordlessly, leading him to your bedroom. Your pace is slow and measured as you walk up the stairs, belying the running commentary in your head. 

Oh fuck, I can't believe this is happening. This is Mr Munson for fucks sake. Dad would absolutely freak. Oh fuck. 

As you're closing the door, he's kicking his shoes off and sitting up on your bed. His rough demeanour and chiselled physique look so out of place, juxtaposed by the sweet pink bedclothes. 

"Come here sweetheart, right here." He says, patting his lap. You move over to him, trying to work out exactly where he wants you. 

"Knees either side, come on baby, I know you know how to straddle." His smile is dipped in sin, biting his lower lip slightly and flashing his teeth. You take a shaky breath and mount him, your thin sleep shorts barely covering your expectant pussy. 

"Can you, um, take your jeans off?" You ask hesitantly, "I wanna feel you." 

"Whatever you want baby, I'm here to help." 

You sit awkwardly to one side as he wiggles his jeans off those perfect hips, giving you a teasing sliver of his lower abdomen to gawp at before he's gripping your hips forcefully and pushing your core down against his solid bulge. 

"Hmm, nearly perfect," he says, giving you an appraising look. 

"What's not right?" You feel your cheeks blush, waiting for him to point out some flaws you have. 

"Well, I'm sure when I walked in earlier with you in this position you were topless." 

An impossible amount of blood flushes your face, chest, neck. Eddie's thumbs trace calming circles into the flesh of your hips, catching the hem of your top and slipping just beneath. 

Lifting your top up hesitantly, you move your arms up and away, discarding the clothing on the floor of your room. 

Eddie's eyes are fixated on your nude breasts, letting out a slow breath. He holds your hips harder, fingers bruising into you. 

"There. Perfect. You are perfect sweetheart. Such a good girl for me." 

It's deeply pathetic, the noise that escapes your lips at his praise, but it serves to break the spell Eddie is under and forces him to look at your rosy cheeks and pouting lips. 

"Fuck, you like that sweetheart?" He asks, large hands clinging to your hips, starting to grind you back and forth. His breathing is laboured, as if he's trying to hold himself together.

"Yeah." You say back, voice small, hiding under his studious gaze. 

"Don't go all shy on me now baby. This good, yeah?" 

You nod, mewling at the sensation. He's rock hard, and just the feel of his solid dick rubbing back and forth, hitting your swollen clit with each pass has your head spinning. Just two layers, two layers of flimsy fabric lay between him and you. Between him entering you. 

"Talk to me sweetheart. What do you need?" 

His eyes are searching yours, so eager to make you happy. 

"Please, please play with my nipples." 

A rough hum rumbles from his throat, hands creeping up to your chest. 

"So polite. Whatever you need sweetheart." 

Taking over grinding over his member, you feel your skin thrumming, heat bubbling in your gut as his hands begin to trace over your curves. His thumbs graze the underside of your tits with confident movements. Expecting him to start pinching at your nipples, it takes you entirely by surprise when he leans forward and takes one in his mouth, sucking hard. 

Whimpering quietly, you grip his shoulders, willing yourself to be quiet. It's like Eddie can read your fucking mind. Unlatching from your nipple, he grabs your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

"I told you. Don't be shy. It's just you and me here. I want to hear you. Every whimper, every fucking moan. I'm committing this to memory, so make it a good one." 

A watery grin unfurls over your face, eyes tearing up unexpectedly. 

"OK Eddie." 

"Good fucking girl." 

"Oh God-"

Before you're done moaning at his words, his lips are immersing your nipple again, wet and warm and rough; as he pinches the other with hardened skin fingertips. A thick tongue darts out, flicking back and forth over the hardened nub. 

"Oh Eddie, oh fuck!" Your moans are loud and unashamed, your hips frantically humping over his turgid cock, clit swollen, nearing on sore.

His breath diffuses over the sensitive skin of your breast. 

"See that's it baby, I know, I know. Keep going, use me." 

Chasing your release your movements become almost violent, hands grasping onto his wavy locks and tugging hard. He groans at that, almost a growl. Teeth scraping your aching nipple, he unlatches with a wet pop and instead bites into the joining spot between your neck and shoulder harder than anyone had done before. The act was bordering on feral. An animalistic gesture, sucking on your flesh as if he was sucking the orgasm out of you. 

It was working. The low simmering in your gut had bubbled over, threatening to pull you under into the deep depths of pleasure. You let it, screaming out his name as you lost breath, quickly losing yourself in the gaping depths of your release. 

Slowing your frantic rocking movements, you finally slow to a halt.

"Feel better sweetheart?" 

You hum, fingers tracing over the muscles of his toned arms. Your pussy hasn't gotten the message however, clenching around nothing. Your walls are pulsing, wanting to clench onto something, anything. 

"Yeah I'm good." 

"Don't lie to me." 

Gasping at his hard words, you look into his eyes. 

"If you're done I'll leave-" 

"No!" You shout, gripping him harshly,

fingernails embedding into his skin. This can't be over, not yet.

"See?" He laughs, almost mocking you, "if you need more, say so. I want to help you. What do you need?"

"I-" fuck why is this so difficult? "I need, I need something inside me." 

"See? Was that so hard? You want my fingers baby? I'll make you come, as many times as you need." 

You nod enthusiastically, slipping off his lap. He turns you to the side suddenly so your legs are draped over his. Firm, smooth strokes rub up, up, up your thighs making you quiver. 

"Take these shorts off. I need to see that pretty pussy of yours." 

Wiggling out of them, they land on the floor in a heap. 

"Fuck. Spread your legs a little." 

It isn't in you not to comply. Your knees fall open, entirely exposed. 

"Well, look at you. Fucking perfect." A rough hand slots between your legs, two fingers rubbing the length of your pussy. 

Leaning back on your hands, your back arches into his touch, hips moving upwards to meet each stroke. 

"You really want this? You want me to fuck you with my fingers?" His movements are tantalising and slow. Your body begs for more, more. 

Nodding at him, you soon see it's not enough. 

"Use your words sweetheart." Fingers whisper across forbidden skin, circling around but never touching your clit. 

"Oh God please, please I need you, please fill me up!" All modesty forgotten.

"Fuck, yeah that's it, hmm" you feel his fingers swipe your wet lips, about to go deeper. Leaning forward, he angles his head towards your cunt, and spits, hard.

Holy fucking fuck. 

That act had you clenching all over again, rocking into nothing. 

"Oh she likes that! Dirty girl." 

He smiles his approval and gathers your combined wetness, two fingers diving deep inside you. It's aggressive and rough and entirely what you've been craving. 

"This what you wanted baby? My fingers filling you up? Fucking into your cunt?" 

His words are filthy, switching something inside your head you weren't aware of until just now.

"Yeah, fuck please, stretch me out, I fucking need you baby, please please please!" 

Your tiny hands are gripping onto him, desperately seeking him, digging into skin and flesh. 

"Oh you are so hot. Keep begging, I like it." His salacious grin pours over his features, fingers working you roughly, nestling into a spot inside that had your toes curling. Your breathing is heavy and ragged, as his other hand slaps harshly against your thigh. 

"I said beg." 

His ministrations start to slow. 

"No, don't stop! Please, oh fuck please, I need to fucking come Eddie!" Your eyes seeking his with a desperate gleam, toying with your features. 

"Yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck," and his hand lands a hard smack against the side of your ass making you shriek. 

"You're a dirty girl, aren't you?" His fingers continue, setting a brutal pace, each stroke reaching your g spot pathetically easily.

"Yeah, oh yes, for you I am." 

A thick tongue runs up the side of your neck, pushing his fingers harder, deeper. 

"Oh Eddie I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come, don't stop!" 

"Not stopping, not even if you paid me. Come for me sweetheart." 

Your hips betray you, rubbing against his fingers as hard as they can, desperately seeking your second release. 

They don't have long to look. Suddenly it bursts around you, popping in your head like a firecracker of feeling, pulsing out of you in waves. Your fingers wind into his hair once again as your orgasm floods your system, hands almost frightened of being swept away. 

You knew he was good with his hands but fuck, his words were something else. 

"Oh my God that was incredible." You stutter out, legs still trembling. 

"I aim to please. You good now baby?" His fingers whispering over your arm, catching your nerves, making quivers run over and over you. 

If I'm good, he's gonna leave, and that will be it. Fuck, just don't want it to be over. 

"No. I need you to fuck me. Just this once. Please. I- I need you to cum inside me."

"Shit sweetheart, you want my fuckin' cock? How could I refuse such a sweet good girl." 

Laying you down against your many pillows, he stands, ridding himself of his shirt and pants. 

Oh fuck, just look at his cock. 

It's swollen, throbbing against his slickened pubic hair, wetted by your own juices. Licking your lips impulsively, you spread your legs wide, wanting to guide his hips between yours.

"Fuck that's a pretty dick. So fucking big." 

He looks at you, quirking an eyebrow. 

Oh fuck you just said that out loud. 

"Yeah? You want it? You want me?" 

He's smiling, stroking at his throbbing length, making an emotion akin to jealousness bloom in your chest. 

"I need you Eddie." 

He climbs between your thighs again, letting another glob of spit fly from those perfect lips of his. 

"Oh!" You moan eagerly, writhing beneath him.

"You are perfect, aren't you? Fucking filthy and ready for me." The head of his swollen member nudges your soft opening. 

"I'm on birth control, please just fill me up." 

"Oh fuck you're gonna make me bust if you keep on like that." The words are admonishing, but he sounds impressed. 

His weight dips onto the mattress between your legs, making it sink dramatically. You grab his relatively narrow hips, your slender fingers forcing his body between yours. You need him inside you, now.

The fat, leaking head of his cock rubs against your intumescent lips. 

"Fuck me Eddie, I need you, please fuck me!" You blabber, fingers flexing hard against his hard muscles. 

The mushroom head of his turgid cock pushes against your sodden opening. It breaches you then, forcing its way into your soaking lips. 

Pushing harder and harder into your deepest depths, you whimper, walls quivering around his fat length. 

"Eddie, oh God Eddie!" Your moans are unrestrained and throaty, him rubbing against the spot that makes you wobble inside. 

"You wanna come again? So fucking greedy sweetheart." You expect those words to have bite to them, but he's grinning, forehead nearly touching yours as he hikes your legs around his middle. 

You hump at him recklessly, hips thrusting against his waist as hard as you can. 

 "Oh my fucking God, fuck!!" 

You release hard, wetness squirting over Eddie's imposing length as you moan hard and loud. 

"Hey honey, we're home!" 

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. 

Your eyes flick wildly to Eddie. It doesn't help that he seems amused, chuckling a silent laugh into your skin. 

"I've, I've gone to bed, see you in the morning!" You cry out desperately, hoping to heaven, or hell, that they listen. 

"Eddie fix the cable?" You hear your mom call out up the stairway. 

"Yeah he's, he's really good with his hands!" You shout back, Eddie's body shaking with silent laughter over you, the arms caging your head trembling with barely contained amusement. 

"Great news, night honey!" 

You grip Eddie's shoulders as hard as you can as you listen for the minute changes in air. There it is, mother and father both going to bed. 

"Fuck that was close." You huff, releasing your titanesque grip on his shoulders. 

"But I'm not done sweetheart." 

He thrusts hard and deep against you, his impressive member rubbing against that sweet spot yet again.

"Eddie, you can't, fuck-"

"Oh I can. You just need to shut up." He grins quietly, holding your body close to his. 

"Oh Eddie, oh-" 

"Shhh, fuck sweetheart, shut the fuck up." He whispers urgently into the skin of your neck. Your mouth forms a perfect 'o', wiggling against him ardently. 

He releases his cum into you with a hard, shuddering thrust, throbbing and throbbing out of him. It pumps inside you, pushing you to the edge of coming yet again.

Eddie knows. 

Grinning wickedly, he latches his teeth to your nipple again and sucks hard. Moments later you feel your release explode from your core, dampening your bed sheets in the process. 

Thrumming against him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, you manage to coax your breathing to a normal level. 

"I hope that's everything you wanted sweetheart, 'cause it aint happening again." 

Before you can protest, Eddie is leaving the warmth between your thighs and aiming for the window, so no one suspects what just happened between you two. A few sure movements and he disappears, however reluctantly, into the night. Leaving you huffing, and panting, and wanting. 

@eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiethefreakkmunson @munson-blurbs @roanniom @eddiemunsonfuxks @eddiesprincess86 @corrodedhawkins @eddiethefreakkmunson @indouloureux @icallhimjoey

#ms gexy writes #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #eddiemunsonsmut #eddie munson older #older eddie munson #eddie older #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stanger things #stranger things smut

[distantdarlings]

SPEAK OF THE DEVIL // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.6K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* During an after-game Quidditch party, Theo approaches you, intending on reconnecting with his on-and-off ex, you. You are not interested, at least, not originally. He quickly changes your mind, though, just as he always does.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! No protection - piv, Language, slight praise kink, fem reader, slight begging, slight resistance from reader at first, dom!Theo

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Half of My Heart - Josh Makazo

---

The wind rushed against the Quidditch stands, blowing the team flags up and around the stadium. You gasped and ducked as one flew right over the Slytherin stands. Next to you, Pansy burst out laughing as you helped each other to your feet. It had narrowly missed her, as well. 

“That was insane!” she laughed. The two of you huddled together in an attempt to pool some warmth between the two of you, to no avail. It had to be close to below freezing. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sky started dropping snow soon, and with the blanketed, gray light overhead, you figured that would be happening rather quickly.

Around you, shivering students chanted a few cheers for the Slytherin team, ensuring that the shitty weather could never get them down. Even the Gryffindor team had dampened a bit, but not the Slytherins. A prideful smile beamed on your face. Pansy and you joined in the hooting and hollering.

Overhead, three green jerseys swooped downward, causing several students to duck again. You thought you heard a few professors gasp over the cheers. Once the players had passed over the students, you saw them split and tackle different sides of the pitch. This was a strategic maneuver to get the Gryffindor beaters away from their seeker so the Slytherin seeker could focus solely on catching the Snitch. Anticipation burned in the air as the tension between the two teams swelled at this tactic. Merlin, you loved Quidditch. Who didn’t?

And in a matter of a few minutes, the Slytherin players had successfully deflected the Gryffindor Beaters’ attempt to ward them off, sacked a couple bludgers toward their Seeker, and allowed their Seeker enough time to spot the Snitch and soar after it. By the time he had caught the small, golden thing and dived back down into the main part of the pitch, the roar of the Slytherin crowd was deafening. You could barely feel your fingers or toes, but you couldn’t care less. Slytherin had won, which meant that the aftergame party was going to be fun. 

The group of green-clad students began to pour out of the stands and toward the common room as the Quidditch players exited the field. Pansy ranted back and forth with you on the strategies used in this evening’s game. You laughed and teased the whole way back. The two of you had discussed outfits for hours after classes had ended today and, thanks to your obvious inability to remain realistic in your expectations, had set out your selected clothing for the party. In your minds, there was no way Slytherin wouldn’t win tonight, and you had been right. 

Once back in the common room, students were flashing up the stairs, running to grab their outfits and stashed bottles of firewhisky, amongst other stashed things, so generously donated by the Hufflepuffs. The two of you giggled as you made your way into your dorm room, quickly shutting the door behind you. A few of your other roommates had already returned and were changing. The group of you squealed in excitement, ramping each other up. You all had plans for the evening, ones that had been discussed over secretive shots the night before. 

Your plan was to find a bit of a distraction tonight. In the last year, you and your ex-boyfriend, Theodore Nott, had bounced on and off with each other. No matter how many times you had called it quits, you kept finding yourself back in his bed, beneath his strong, warm—

“Hey, come on!” Pansy shook you. “Get dressed!” You laughed along with her and began pulling your heavy winter clothing off. This was going to be a night to remember for all of the right reasons, not because of Theo. 

You selected the dress you’d reserved especially for this party and slid it over your body, letting it fall down the expanse of your hips. Pansy appeared behind you to zip it up, marveling at its gorgeous design: a small black thing with a high neck and no sleeves. Perfect for the evening, in your opinion. You slipped into the black heels you’d picked out last night and pulled a necklace over your head. It was silvered with an ornate snake carved into the charm at the bottom of the chain. Nothing wrong with a little bit of house pride.

“Okay, let’s head down!” Pansy announced to the others in the room. The small group gathered closer and filed out the door. You gathered the larger group of students in the hallway filtering through the passageway and into the common room. Like magic, it had transformed into a gorgeous scene of celebratory banners and music. You poured into the enormous amount of students, all dispersing randomly. Pansy squeezed your hand politely before briefly leaving you to go find someone.

You pushed through the crowd, feeling the bass of the music pound in your chest. Excitement built in your chest, pushing small pants out of your lips. Your mind was set on finding someone new tonight and the anticipation of getting to know someone like you had once known Theo made your heart flutter. Then again, no one had ever known you better than he had. His hands had traveled every inch of your body and learned you so personally as if he had sculpted you. 

“Looking for someone?” A sly whisper appeared in your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of the voice so close to you. You turned and came face-to-face with Theo. Speak of the Devil…You rolled your eyes and turned, intending to leave him behind. You weren’t doing this. His hand gripped your arm roughly, his eyes dark and needy when they found yours. Shit.

Your body slammed against the door of his dorm. You moaned loudly into his mouth as his hands ran smoothly up and down your body. Sculpting you, shaping you, just like always. Nobody’s hands compared to his. His fingers trailed up the outsides of your thighs, slipping slyly beneath the material of your dress. 

Suddenly, he ripped the material up and over your hips. You gasped at the sudden movement, hissing as he bit down onto your bottom lip. Your hand slapped against his chest as a blossom of pain spurted against your teeth. He mumbled a breathy apology against your mouth before resuming his previous activities. His fingers curled beneath the thin waistband of your panties, slowly tugging them higher and higher. The material of the undergarment pressed against your core, eliciting a spark of pleasure behind your eyes. Your hands tightened in his hair. 

“Mm,” you pulled away from his lips, “we shouldn’t be doing this.” You struggled to get the words out around his insistent kisses. Every syllable you spoke was lost against his rough lips, marking every inch of your own. “Theo, you know we’re just going to regret it.” Yet you didn’t stop kissing him back. You couldn’t stop. His taste, his touch, his smell…It was addicting, and pushed more heat between your thighs than anyone else ever could.  

“Tell me to stop, then,” he mumbled into another kiss.

“What?” His lips separated from yours and began to trail down your neck. The cleavage parted in your dress granted him just enough access for his teeth to scrape the soft flesh of your breasts. A silent moan parted your lips as you leaned your head back against the door. His large hands held you firmly in place. His head began to move past your chest. As he lowered to his knees before you, his fingers slipped into the sleeves of your dress, wrapping tightly in the material. As he dropped before you, he roughly tugged the garment down over you. You yelped as your chest was exposed to the cold air. Your dress remained scrunched up around your waist as one of his hands traced delicately over your clothed core and the other massaged your left breast. You couldn’t contain your moans any longer. 

“Teddy,” you moaned breathlessly, letting your favorite nickname for him paint the walls of the room. You never called him that unless he was pleasuring you in some way and, fuck, was he ever doing exactly that. 

You ground your hips against his fingers, trying to gather a bit of friction against yourself. Just as you’d come into contact with his perfect fingers, he pulled away. He smirked devilishly at the whine that fell from your lips.

“Should I stop, baby?” he murmured against your lips. “Don’t want you to regret me…” He laid an open-mouthed kiss to the outside of your left thigh, maintaining darkened eye contact with you. 

“No, don’t stop, please baby,” you begged, your hands curling in his hair. You tried to push him closer to you, to press his face to you. But you couldn’t, he was much too strong. 

He got to his feet, pressing his face closely against your ear, his lips brushing against you. A shudder fell down your spine as your knees weakened.

“Beg for it,” he whispered. He pressed small kisses to your jaw, reiterating he wanted to hear you beg until you finally caved.

“Ugh, please, Teddy,” you whined, bucking your hips against his, eyes rolling back at the contact it made. “Please fuck me, baby. ‘ve missed you so fucking bad.” A smirk fell on his face as he lifted you into his arms, wrapping your thick thighs around his waist. Your mouths found each other again and he claimed every inch of your tongue as his own. 

“Always miss me, baby?” he breathed into your mouth. “Think about this sweet mouth every day.” His hand gripped your jaw, holding it perfectly still. He walked the two of you away from the door and laid you against his bed, careful to set you down gently. 

“Raise your hips,” he instructed. You did so, allowing him to slip the rest of your dress off your body. The only thing left on you was your thin underwear, already soaked through with your arousal. You shook in anticipation as his fingers slowly glided against your naked thighs. Your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. They crush down on it until you taste metal, the reddened material painting your lips.

“So pretty,” he moaned, pressing his mouth to yours. His spit mixed with your blood, his tongue carving a new taste against you.

His hands, rushed and rough, tore through your panties with strong, mean fingers. You whimpered against his lips at the sudden action. The tips of his fingers slid against your core, tracing your wetness all around you. Your head pushed back, separating your lips.

“Turn around,” he said. “Now.” You nodded your head and promptly obeyed, flipping yourself over. His hands wrapped around your hips and yanked your ass into the air. Your teeth closed around your folded arms, trying your best to keep your noises to a minimum.

Behind you, you could hear him undoing his trousers and pulling them down. The bed creaked and shifted as he got to his feet and slid them all the way off. Your hips swayed impatiently, waiting to feel his touch again, desperate to feel it. 

“Please, Teddy,” you whined, spreading your legs even wider. You could feel the wetness from your core sliding down between your thighs, slowly coating his comforter. No one had an effect on you like this. 

It never mattered who you were with. If they had magic fingers, the perfect mouth, none of them compared to Theo. Traits as simple as his voice had your legs pressing together, from the very moment you’d met him. The very first time he touched you had been imprinted in your mind, tracing your eyelids every time you closed them. 

His fingers brushed against your entrance, sending shocks of fire through your body. You gasped and tightened your fingers painfully hard in his sheets. Merlin, this was where you were meant to be. Pressed into his mattress, inhaling his scent, his body claiming yours. Fuck, you were pathetic. 

His hands wrapped around your hips, carefully lining himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing himself into you. Sharp heat split through your body, carving a line down your abdomen. It had been a while, but you hadn’t expected yourself to be so tightened up. Your muscles tensed roughly until he bottomed out with a breathless groan. You relaxed into the bed, barely holding yourself up. He gave you a minute, then two, until you nodded your head, eyes clenched and wanting. The two of you knew each other so perfectly well, no words needed to be spoken. He knew every inch of your body better than you knew it, yourself. His tongue and his fingers and every part of him knew you better than anyone else and he took you as such. He began to move.

The feeling of him moving himself back and forth, traced every part of you from the inside to the out. Your lips parted in a silent scream, relishing in the sensation you’d missed so dearly, that no one else could recreate. You could tell he felt the same way. A brief glance back revealed a flushed, pleasured Theo; his lips parted, musical grunts leaving his throat, his eyes fluttering shut. You’d have never known what he looked like if you hadn’t looked back, because he tended to be the “big man” in bed, always doling out your pleasure and keeping face. He wasn’t such a big man, you realized smugly, you were the same drug to him, as he was to you. A particularly sharp thrust had shoved a scream through your lips.

His hands slid up from your hips and found your chest. He swiftly pulled you up and against his chest, his sticky skin melding with yours. His hips never faltered and the change in position had him hitting new parts of you. His lips were against your ear, whispering sweet nothings and kissing the areas surrounding.

“Feel good, baby?” he groaned. You nodded weakly. “Yeah, baby, yeah?” His pace fastened, the speed working you towards the end of all things. Your breaths came out in short, hot pants. His fingers curved over your chest, tracing the tips of your breasts, forcing your end closer and closer. You tightened around him at your fast-approaching finish. He groaned at the sensation.

“Mmm, missed this fucking cunt, baby,” he grunted out. “Always squeezing me so well.” His lips pressed to your neck, creating a tight suction with his teeth anywhere he could. The bruises he left there were going to remain for days, alerting all who spotted them that you were his and no one else’s. The thought was enough to push you over the edge. You came around him hard. 

The sensation of your finish pushed him against his, which he announced with one more whiny moan and shaking thighs. His hot release painted every inch of your insides, soothing the rough force with which he’d fucked you.

The two of you collapsed against the bed, side-by-side, and watched each other with heavily-lidded eyes. And once again, you realized, the two of you were back in the same position you always were. The regret hadn’t yet had time to bury itself into your stomachs, and the guilt hadn’t made its way to your hearts yet, but in the few hours after, you’d graced each other with immeasurable pleasure; that was your favorite. His thumb traced gently over your lips, shaking slightly with the afterglow of your love. 

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #theo nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #fem reader

[casiia]

bubble bath with simon 🙏🏽😫

— ༉‧₊˚. simon 'GHOST' riley; rainy days.

warnings .: x reader, smut, mdni 18+, afab ! reader, choking, kinda pervy simon, heavily unedited.

.: masterlist.

when simon opens the door alarm bells run through his head. the first thing he sees is you; standing in front of him with mascara running down your blushed cheeks. you’ve been crying? he’s trying to think about what he could’ve done to make you this upset, normally you’d just call him and give him a piece of your mind — but never show up at his front door.

that’s when he takes in the rest of your appearance, damp hair, and a white top that’s clinging to your chest. he swallows and follows the curve of your breast, the material had turned translucent and he can see your hard nipples.

it takes every bone in his body to tear his eyes away and look back up to your face, and immediately he’s relived. although he’s been caught in his pervy stare, you’re not mad at him. a smirk grows on your puffy lips as you push past him, getting out of the rain that patters at his windows. you rub your hands up and down your arms hoping that it’d soothe the cold that’s washed over you — but you’re only squeezing your breast together, and simon kisses his teeth.

you had woken him up from a nap with your obnoxious knocks, so he was well aware of the ‘morning wood’ that you were glancing down at. simon’s brain was still all fuzzy, he couldn’t decipher if he was still dreaming or if you were actually standing in his living room. fully dressed but completely exposed to him.

he watched as you kick your shoes off, and dramatically flopping down onto his leather couch. panic surges through him again; did he forget about plans you made?

your outfit was anything but fancy, so nothing too important. his tight shoulders ease when he finally hears your voice. “i missed you.”

he’s not in trouble. simon rubs his eyes and almost sighs in relief. his gaze catches onto your cheeks, the smudged mascara making his brain go wild. he knows it was from the rain, but he wants to imagine that it was from his dick.

stuffing your mouth full of his cock, tears brimming your eyes as you gag on it. he has a fist full of your hair, watching the mascara run down your cheeks as he fucks your face.

his balls tighten and he can’t look at you anymore. not when you’re lying on his couch and leaving little to the imagination — your knees knocked apart, and your arms stretched above your head.

simon's been standing in the same spot since he opened the door. he hasn't said a word, you'd think he hasn't acknowledged you or your abrupt presence. but that is far from the opposite — simon's been admiring you from the moment he saw you standing in the rain. his mind clouded with lust and love; how effortlessly beautiful you are, how your eyes gleam in the dimly lit sky. with droplets of water running down your forehead, and makeup smudged on your skin, he can't believe you're his. and he wants you.

"simon?"

he blinks, and you're standing in front of him with your head tilted to the side. your cold fingers sliding under his wife beater, he shivers and rolls his shoulders back.

you can feel the goosebumps on his skin as you continue to trace along his defined muscles, your lips turn up when you feel him flex under your touch. he still hasn't said a word to you, just staring at you with his jaw clenched.

"you sore, baby?" you asks, removing your hands from under his tank and rubbing up and down his biceps. you squeeze his arms lightly and flutter your eyes up to meet his. a dazed glare.

you can only scoff light heartedly when he still doesn't open his mouth to reply. you know he knows what you're doing, you just can't tell if it's going in your favor or not.

technically you didn't lie. you did miss him, but you couldn't stop thinking about his throbbing cock and how much you missed being stuffed full of him. he'd been working so much recently, only meeting you at your place for dinner or a quick conversation. simon had been neglecting you, whether he knew it or not. so it'd be dumb of you to not come over on his only day off.

you pinch him lightly, with a pout. "earth to simon, are you even listening to me?"

simon only swallows when he looks down at you, your arms crossed over your chest. a cute little frown playing on your lips, he wants nothing more than to shove his fingers or his aching cock into that bratty mouth of yours.

"you're going to get a cold." he finally says. motioning towards your soaked clothes, and he bites the inside of his cheek when he sees your almost bare breast. they're teasing him in the worst way possible, he wants to rip that sheer shirt off and suck on your taut nipples. but he can't.

"take a bath with me, then?" you asks, chewing on your bottom lip. you're dragging him through the house by the hem of his shirt. and he before he knows it, you're stripping in front of him.

he must still be dreaming, he doesn't want to look away — afraid that if he even blinks he'll wake from what surely must be a dream.

you are bent over the tub and squeezing a bottle of one of your soaps into the running bath. you squeeze your thighs together, and look back at him from over your shoulder. "y'just gonna stand there?" you're teasing him, and normally he would do something about that, but he's confused. did you come over in the rain to fuck?

his question is answered when you tug his boxers down, your thumb brushing the precum that dribbles from his slit. simon hisses before grabbing your wrist, squeezing it lightly. you only roll your eyes and shake his grip off, pulling his wife beater off and nudging him towards the bubble filled tub.

simon sinks into the large bath, his arms hanging over the rim as he waits for you to join him. water spills over the edges as you sit in front of him, but he doesn't care. not when your ass is pressing into his throbbing cock.

you moan softly, leaning back into his chest. you rest your head on his shoulder and turn to kiss his collarbone. shifting in his lap, you nonchalantly grind against him.

"you're a naughty lil' thing," simon grunts. his hands sink under the water and squeeze your hips roughly, stilling your movement. he kisses the shell of your ear before letting one of his hands travel between your thighs.

you inch your hips forward, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your clenching cunt. "i don't know what you're talking about." you mumble, grunting when he squeezes your inner thigh.

"i don't like liars." simon tuts in your ear, and his other hand sneaks towards your front. wrapping his fingers around your throat, he squeezes lightly and taps your jugular with his index finger. "you missed me?"

a whimper slips from your parted lips, and you're suddenly very aware of his large erection that presses into the small of your back. "i missed you, needed you." you mutter, your words are raspy from his his hand around your neck.

"needed me," simon repeats. and as much as he wants to tease you —to break you, he needs you just as much.

under the water, he slips his fingers between your fold. at your sharp gasp, he continues; rubbing your clit with his thumb, he presses his middle finger against your hole.

"p-please." you plead, your back arching off of his chest causing water to splash around in the tub. bubbles cover your breasts and collarbone.

simon only hums, he slips two fingers into your clenching cunt. removing his hand from around your neck, he trails it down to your chest and rolls your nipple between his index and thumb.

burying your face into the crook of simon's neck, you whine when he curls his fingers inside of you. squeezing your thighs together around his forearm, you babble incoherently into his damp skin. his pace is slow and controlled, just how you like it. his thumb is firm as he rubs slow circles and patterns along your puffy clit.

your orgasm comes much too quickly, and you're slouched against his chest. your breath is shaky and when he begins to move from behind you your eyes widen, "w-wait, give me a second." you say, and you can feel simon tugging you up from the warm water.

"enjoy your break, 'cause you're not gettin' any sleep t'night."

#[ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ — 𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒. ] #guys i hit my head writing this #like i was trying to imagine this and i threw my head back and banged it against the wall LOL #( 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 ᡣ𐭩 ྀིྀ ) #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader smut #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #cod mwiii #mwii #mwiii #cod smut #call of duty smut

[toxicanonymity]

Would you please write a boyfriend’s dad fic 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Maybe the bf ditches her while she’s on vacation with his family and Joel knows his son is a fuck up so he wants to show her what she’s missing

Sky’s out, thighs out

1.5k / boyfriend's dad!Joel x f!reader 

thighs out masterlist

Warnings: NSFW 18+,  non-outbreak AU, big girthy age gap (unspecified), public, exhibitionism, oral & rimming (f receiving), unsafe P in V sex, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, use of daddy (prone bone anon). 

☀️🌤️☀️🌤️☀️🌤️☀️🌤️☀️

You're sunbathing face-down in a pool chair and a shadow falls over your book.  Joel squats down in front of you.  “Hey,” he says gently.  You wipe your eyes under your sunglasses.  He takes your shades off, but leaves his own on.  “Don’t worry 'bout my dipshit son, okay? Not worth the tears." He catches one with his thumb as it rolls down your face. You glance up and he asks, "Wanna go for a swim or somethin’?”  You avoid your reflection in his shades. Your eyes fall to his meaty thighs which are stretching his short, retro swim trunks under his wife beater tank top.   He follows your eyes down, then his nose twitches, smugly tugging at one corner of his mouth.  “We could do that, too." He’s shameless, but you've ignored it so far.  

One day, lounging on the beach, he caught you looking. He said, “sky’s out, thighs out," then sensually rubbed his upper inner thigh. You said, “sky’s always out. . .”   “Exactly.”  His beard pattern only enhanced the mischief in his smile, his hand resting at his groin. He wet his lips, still looking at you. Then he adjusted himself. The next day, he snuck up on you from behind when you were reading at the edge of the pool. He silently swam up and stood behind you, pressed himself up against you, and you didn’t do anything about it except think about him while you fucked his son later.  

"Thanks." You take your sunglasses from his hand and go back to reading. You're looking at the book but can’t focus with all these butterflies between your legs.  

You're thinking about how big and hard Joel felt against your ass in the pool and now hot it was that he stole that moment, no matter how creepy. The way he loosely wrapped one arm around you under the water, and you didn't flinch as he ran his hand over your stomach, just barely dipped his fingertips into your suit, and whispered, "good color on you." His soft grunt when he pressed himself harder against you before sinking back and floating away just in time for Jack to come back outside.

"Plenty of time to ourselves," he says as you stare at the words on the page. It’s a rooftop pool shared by several units, and the other units have been empty this week.  But there are higher roof tops nearby with direct lines of vision. Someone waved from their barbecue the night before and invited y’all to join. It's a friendly area, lots of vacation condos.

-

“Alright, I’m gonna make this easy on ya,” Joel says.  “Want me to stop, I will, but you gotta say stop.” You throb at his words. He knows exactly what you need right now - for him to take charge.  

He starts by massaging your back. "Damn fool to even glance at another chick.”  He kneads your muscles lower and lower, then gropes your ass with an "Mmm."  You put your book down and rest your head on your hands.  He slides his hand into your swimsuit bottoms and keeps sliding down, over your crack, a little further, until his middle finger reaches your dripping wet pussy.  He inhales deeply and his voice lowers to a horny pitch as he swirls his finger. “Yeahhh," he growls.  "That's what I thought. . .” he says as he touches you.  

He swings a leg over the pool chair to straddle you, and as his crotch hovers over your ass, he brings his mouth to your ear. "You're so damn hot, baby," then dips his pelvis down for his raging erection to brush your swimsuit, sending all your blood to your loins.  "Knew ya wanted it."

He uses one hand to slowly untie your swimsuit bottom on both sides, so slowly, as if any sudden movement might break the spell.  Then he backs up toward the foot of the lounge chair and spreads your thighs.  "Damn, this ass is perfect,” he says under his breath as he gives your cheeks a quick squeeze. Then he inserts a thick finger into your cunt and breathes deeply as he adds another.  

“Pussy, too. . . Damn. . .” Your cunt twitches around his digits and he says, “Wooo.”  He takes out his fingers, and his hands on your hips nudge you into lifting your ass and tilting your hips for him to plant his face. His facial hair prickles you lightly.  He starts at your clit and when he reaches your warm, wet hole he gives it a kiss.  Then he inserts his tongue and moans into you.  After about a minute of eating you out, his tongue sharpens and drags from your entrance up to your asshole to tease you there while squeezing a cheek.  

He gets on top of you and presses the hard bulge of his swim trunks into your ass.   You moan softly and he says, “Yeah, that’s right.”  He pulls his swim trunks down enough to free his stiff member then runs the firm tip through your folds.  You gasp and he says “All yours, baby.  Every inch.”  

-

He notches the swollen head at your entrance.  Your thighs spread and your hips tilt for him. "That's right, baby."  He shoves himself into you with a grunt.  You moan as his girth splits you open.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes and retreats half way.  He plunges forward again and bottoms out with a long sigh. "Damn. . . tight 'n juicy. . ." He repeats the motion.  "Perfect pussy." He lowers his broad torso against your back for a moment, pulling out all but the tip. The light padding of his stomach makes you twitch. Then with a deep thrust he pushes himself back up.  He hovers over you and braces himself on both sides of the pool chair as he rails you.  He’s hitting just the right spot.  The tension builds in your core.  

“Ah, fuck,” you gasp. 

“Yeah, how’s this cock treatin’ ya, baby?”

“Fuck, it’s good.”

“That’s right,” he says into your neck. "Daddy knows best. . . Don't I, baby?" He latches onto your neck. 

You start to say it back to him "Da-" and cut yourself off with a moan.  He sucks your neck so hard it’ll leave a mark but you don’t care. All you care about is his cock inside you.  You take a deep breath and manage, “yeah, Daddy.”  

He pounds you with all the pent up tension of the week.  You hear faint voices from a neighboring rooftop.  It sends a rush of excitement through you, the thought of strangers seeing you get railed by your boyfriend’s hot dad. 

Every time Joel buries his length in you, it rocks you forward on the chair and you grip it for dear life.  You moan in near disbelief at how good he feels. Your chest feels light with energy.

“Jack ever fuck you this good?" Not even close.  

“No,” you pant.  “Never, daddy. . ."  You could come any minute but don’t want it to end.

“s'what I thought." His cock is so stiff and thick.  And length wise, even a smidgen more might be too much to take. 

-

You look up and a shadow moves inside the clubhouse. “Wait,” you say. “ Is someone in there?”

He slows his hips.  “Want me to stop?”  He stops moving, and you can hardly stand it you’re so close to coming.  You groan.  No, you don’t want him to stop.  

You’re trying to see into the clubhouse when he pulls out and you answer too late, “Nooo.”  

He says “C'mere” and flips you over.   The voices return next door.  His strong thighs swell out from under his swim trunks and you follow them up to his commanding cock.  His sun-kissed arm flexes as he pumps himself, then crouches down and lines himself up.  

“Look at Daddy, don’t worry ‘bout nothin’ else."  He plunges to the hilt with a loud sigh from both of you.  “Damn you take it good,” he says.  He begins to pound you, then puts your legs up in a mating press.  

“I’m on the pill,” you manage to say between deep breaths.  Hard to tell if he’s relieved or disappointed.  His hips snap into you faster, and you forget about the shadow in the pool house and the people next door.  When you’re on the edge of  bliss, you say “I’m gonna–”

“Yeah baby, come on my cock.” 

You pant. 

“Come on, baby,” he says as he slams into you. 

You begin to clench around him and moan obscenely, gushing on his cock.

“Attagirl.”  He keeps fucking you through it. “Hell yeah,” he says between heavy breaths.  

He plunges into you slower but harder and somehow further, bottoming out with a primal grunt. Then he pulses inside you and sighs loudly as his balls empty.  His pulsations extend your own until he finishes coming and pulls out. Before he takes his still-hard cock away, he gathers his cum with the tip and pushes back inside.

When he's truly done, he swiftly pulls up his swim trunks, drags his hand through your juices and sucks his fingers.  He crouches down, cups your cheek and says, “Hot as hell.”  

Then he takes off his tank top and jumps in the pool.  He turns around and rests his arms on the deck, facing you. 

 “Damn. . . Jack’s even dumber than I thought.” 

-

Same Joel, same vacation:

thighs out on the beach

sun's out, guns out

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

If you like this one, you might like the Speakeasy series which has exhibitionism, horniness, and talking.   Like how he talks?  Try night walks for similar energy (on the darker side).  Instagram and Uber for another squirter. 

-

ty for reading @dark-scape

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #bd!Joel miller #bd!Joel #joel miller/reader #boyfriend's dad!Joel #pedro pascal smut #toxicanonymity ☠️ #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #joel miller/you #thighs out!Joel #thighs out!Joel☠️ #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #love2cuck #toxic dilf summer

[mothdruid]

Happy birthday!! Can I please get "you’re freezing, come here.” With Hangman?

Fast like Rain

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x gn!reader

word count: 1k

summary: Your childhood best friend, Jake, is home from deployment. The two of you spend the day together and it ends with a cold but sweet treat.

a/n: sorry this took so long to write! my blurbs keep end up being longer than just blurbs lmao. i hope you enjoy!!

The day had started out great. Jake was home on leave for a little bit, meaning that you finally got to see your best friend after months of his deployment. He had promised you one full day of hanging out when he had left. So, it was time for him to honor that promise.

The day had started with brunch from his favorite local diner, to which he ordered his classic sunny side up eggs with crispy bacon and toast. You ordered your own favorite meal, earning teasing when you ordered your classic cup of orange juice. Jake never let you live that down, always joking that you were never going to fully grow up.

The two of you spent the next few hours doing whatever. It was so refreshing to finally have Jake home. He was your best friend no matter what, even if you happened to have a little bit more than just platonic feelings for him. It was hard not to like him. He had that Texan charm you had grown up dreaming about.

Charm with a bit of asshole to him, and it honestly made your heart sing. Maybe that's because he didn't intimidated you, instead it pushed you to be an asshole right back at him. Which Jake himself loved about you. Every time you ever swore at him and yelled at him, he would later that night think about it in bed, wondering if you would speak that way if you were underneath him.

The two of you were currently in some random field outside of town. Jake had decided to drive the old beater truck he had during high school while he was in town. So the tailgate was currently down, the both of you sitting on it with your legs dangling. The soft yet dry tall grass was brushing against your ankles.

"Are you serious?" You laughed after asking.

"Come on, of course, how could you not believe me?" Jake retorted.

"You weren't a track star in school, that's why!"

"I played football," Jake reminded you.

"As a QB, not a running back!" You could help the laughter that came from you.

"Fine," Jake hoped off the tailgate, "let's race."

The laughter immediately stopped when you heard him. You both had been too caught up in each other to have noticed the darker clouds starting to consume the sky. You gave Jake a serious look, tiling your head as if to question his seriousness.

"Hey, I'm being serious here," Jake threw his hands up in defense.

"One hundred percent?" You questioned.

He took his right index finger and drew a cross over his heart. You hoped down off the tailgate and stood face to face with him. You crossed your arms, signaling that you meant business.

"What's in it for me?"

"I'll buy you ice cream," Jake said.

"Fence line?"

Jake shook his head yes, that stupid smirk on his face. Without a second thought you took off running. You heard Jake yell from behind you about how he never said start. All you did was throw a middle finger back at him. Jake chased you all the way to the fence line, huffing once he finally caught up to you. You had been waiting for only a few seconds since reaching it. Your own breath was heavy, lungs struggling to keep up.

"Guess you aren't that fast," you chuckled while trying to steady your breathing. You looked over at Jake and then leaned again the fence post next to you.

"I don't know if that counts," Jake joked. He moved near you, putting a hands on the same post you were leaning on.

The two of you were close, only a few inches separating your bodies. Smiles adorned both of your faces while you stared at each other. You could never get tried of staring at him. Yeah, he looked like a generic jock, but he was your generic jock. Those green eyes never left yours, and a part of was starting to wonder if the two of you were moving closer towards one another.

Suddenly there was a loud rumble through the sky. It was only then that both of you noticed the dark sky. You examined the sky, a small drop of water hit your skin. Jake felt one too, looking at you quickly. It was seconds before a complete down pour started. You howled in laughter and shock as Jake just started laughing. After a few more seconds of taking the rain in, you ran back towards the truck. Jake was right behind you, stopping to lift the tailgate back up while you climbed into the cab.

"Holy shit," the words were breathy from your laughter.

"That was a surprise," Jake said.

The both of you were practically soaked. His t-shirt was practically a different color now. Yours was about the same though. Little goosebumps were starting to prick up along your skin. Jake noticed this when you wrapped your arms around yourself. He reached out hesitantly, brushing his knuckles against your skin.

"You're freezing," he whispered, "come here."

Jake opened his arms and gestured for you to move closer to him. You hesitated for a minute, eventually moving into his arms. Jake's arm were so warm, they were like one of his old sweatshirts that you had stolen forever ago. The sound of rain filled the silence between the two of you.

"I missed you."

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them. You sat up a little and looked at Jake. There was worry weaved through your expression as if you had done something wrong. Jake moved a hand to your jaw, cupping it then leaning in.

Neither of you fought it, leaning into the kiss and your emotions. For so long the both of you had fought them, telling yourselves that this couldn't be real. But it was.

Jake pulled back and just stared at you, a small smile on his lips. He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, marveling internally at how soft your skin was.

"I missed you too."

#moths 26th #jake seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin fic #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm fluff

[marauderverse]

Maybe it was then//J.P x Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: He wasn’t sure when it had started. But sometime between then and now, he had fallen for y/n.

A/n: I am posting this from my phone so sorry if the formatting is weird.

He wasn't sure when it had started.

Probably somewhere between the charms classes he had shared with her since first year and the Gryffindor party, she had somehow snuck into.

Somewhere between then and now, James Potter fell for y/n.

She stood on the other side of the common room, dancing with Lily Evans to Dancing Queen, which Mary had all but threatened Sirius’ life to let her play.

An odd warmth crept up Jame’s neck as he watched her.

The long sleeves of her shirt flowed like water down her arms as she spun lily around; he felt like a creep looking at the knot in the centre of her chest where the two halves of the shirt met. The pattern of her skirt matched that of her top; a belt with a daisy belt buckle sat at her waist. The outfit was finished with white boots that sat just below her knees.

She looked hot.

Her hair was out, something he had only seen her with probably three times in the seven years he had known her.

“What are you staring at?”

James jumped, prying his eyes away from the girls grinning face to look at Sirius.

Sirius moved forward slightly to put his face beside James, looking over in the same direction.

“Evans?” The boy questioned, downing the rest of the drink he had in his hand, “I thought you got over her?”

James sighed slightly, sipping his lukewarm drink.

“I wasn’t staring at Evans; I am over her,”

Sirius looked at his friend, a look of annoyance and confusion set of his angular features. His grey eyes flittered back to the group of girls.

It took him a few seconds of staring before he realised.

“Y/N!” he yelled.

James scrambled to turn his attention away from the girls to his friend, slapping a hand up to his mouth to shush him.

“Shut up,” He whispered-yelled.

“Y/n?” Sirius whispered back this time.

James rolled his eyes; it was obvious his friend was drunk, and perhaps spilling his secrets to him at a Gryffindor Quidditch party wasn’t his brightest idea.

“When did this happen?” Sirius asked.

That was a great question.

When did it start?

It could be in the third year when she had made reserve beater of the Ravenclaw team.

The sun was high in the sky as the captains shook hands in the middle of the pitch.

With a shrill blow of her whistle, the teams mounted their brooms and kicked off.

The game was in full swing within minutes; the crowd cheered and booed as the Gryffindor team scored three goals in the first ten minutes.

Things got better from there.

The Ravenclaw team was wholly unprepared for this match.

An hour in, Gryffindor was ahead by sixty points and the beater had fallen from his broom and they had to use their reserve player.

Y/n.

As soon as she entered the pitch, so did an entirely new team.

Gryffindor couldn’t seem to keep the quaffle; as soon as it so much as grazed the fingertips of a Gryffindor team member, a bludger was already on its way.

And it seemed the Ravenclaw players repelled the bludgers; as soon as one was sent toward a Ravenclaw, it was immediately redirected.

She was fantastic.

Even though Gryffindor caught the snitch, Ravenclaw won the match by a landslide.

Needless to say, she was a permanent part of the team from that point on.

Maybe it was then.

Or maybe he had fallen for her last year when she and Lily became best friends.

It seemed she had made a home in the Gryffindor tower.

Anytime he would enter, she would be lounging on one of the squishy sofas, toasting something over the fire or sitting in the corner pouring over some essay that hurt James' head to look at.

Perhaps it was the proximity that sparked it, the way she would smile shyly when he accidentally caught her eye, or how she seemed to get along with all his friends so easily.

Maybe it was then.

Or maybe it was earlier today when Ravenclaw lost the Quidditch cup to Gryffindor.

He knew how hard she pushed her team for this game. He had seen the Ravenclaw’s schedule for the quidditch pitch and caught a glimpse of the plays she spent hours on in the library.

She had been devastated, throwing her broom down in defeat as the Gryffindor seeker was hoisted up on the team's shoulders after the game.

He watched as she returned to the changing room, far ahead of her team.

If it hadn’t been Gryffindor they were playing, maybe James would have felt bad for her. Maybe he would feel bad tomorrow morning after the euphoria of the win and the excitement from the Gryffindors died down, maybe he would feel bad.

She caught him on his way up to the castle, now changed out of her quidditch robes and impeccably polished broom over her shoulder.

“Hey, James,” He stopped, turning around to look at her.

He saw Lily, Mary and Marlene a few steps behind her, Marlene still in her quidditch robes. There were amused looks on the girl's faces, an almost mischievous look.

“Uh, you guys did well out there today,”

The girls were giggling that high-pitched giggle they do.

“Uh, thanks, you did great as well,”

She smiled, turning on her heel quickly and running back to her friends.

They were giggling like maniacs and whispering to one another.

“Sometime between third year and now,” James admitted.

“Wow, so this is like. Super serious,” Sirius said before pausing, “Super Sirius,” He said, laughing at his stupid joke.

There was a pause between them.

“You should ask her out,” Sirius said as if this was some kind of life-changing advice he had just offered his best friend.

James rolled his eyes, finishing the last little bit of his drink.

“I would, but I just don't think she’s into me,” He confessed.

“C’mon Jamie, you’re a total catch; what naked do you think she's not into you?”

James Cringed at the nickname that seemed only to come out when his friends wanted to get on his nerves or when they were drunk.

James thought back on the last few years.

The time he had attempted to be charms partners with her, only for Y/n to barely contribute to the conversation and simply write her thoughts down instead of talking to him.

Or the time she had traded seats with Mary so they wouldn’t be beside each other in transfiguration.

Or the time he had attempted to talk to her after one of Ravenclaws quidditch practice sessions, and she had slipped out the back of the changing rooms to avoid him.

James shook his head.

He didn’t know why, what he had done, or what she had heard.

But James Potter knew that Y/n L/n didn’t like him.

“She just doesn’t like me the way I like her,” He brushed Sirius off, tuning to the refreshments table to pour himself another cup of mystery liquid.

Sirius scoffed.

“That’s not what I’ve heard,”

James paused, turning to look at his friend.

“What does that mean?” James prodded.

Sirius shook his head, his long black hair bouncing around as he did so.

“No can do; I’ve been sworn to secrecy by Evans,”

“You heard something from Lily?”

Sirius took a shot of fire whiskey from the table, his face screwing up slightly as the liquid burned all the way down.

“Yeah we were talking the other day about her massive crush on you,” He stated.

“Lily has a crush on me?” James asked.

Sirius shook his head again.

“No, Y/N's massive crush on you. But I promised Evans I wouldn’t tell you,” He explained, taking yet another shot of alcohol “Apparently, she’s super shy and awkward about this stuff and doesn’t want us making fun of her or something.”

James was gobsmacked.

This whole time.

This whole time she’s liked him back, and it took a drunk Sirius to tell him.

“So if I go ask her out now, she’s not gonna yell at me?”

Sirius laughed loudly.

“Mate, from what Evans told me,” Sirius began, lowering his voice slightly, “all you would have to do is say please, and she’d be under you in a second.”

James felt a flush at the comment.

“Shouldn’t you be annoying moony or something?” James asked, attempting to turn his friend's attention away.

Sirius lit up, a grin forming on his face.

“Oh yeah, I haven’t seen him in fifteen minutes; he's probably worried,”

James watched as his friend bounced away.

He downed the liquor in his cup before going over to the group of girls.

Mary was the first to see him coming and nudged Lily, who whispered to Marlene, who then told Dorcas, who told Y/n.

She turned, a wide grin on her face.

“Hey ladies,” he said, using all hos will power to keep his confident persona on, “Mind if i steal Y/n for a moment?’

The girls giggled, sending /n knowing looks. Marlene, before she left, stopped to whisper something in Y/ns ear.

James couldn’t hear what it was, but by the scandalised expression on her face, the way she hit her arm, and Marlenes grin, he could guess what it was about.

James turned to Y/n, her face was already red and she was avoiding eye contact.

“So, Sirius said he was talking to Lily the other day,”

Y/n blushed deeper, if that was even possible.

“Oh god,” She moaned, covering her reddened face with her hands and giggling awkwardly, “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing bad,” He hurried to say, “Well, I guess it depends on your definition of bad,” he was losing his grip.

She hadn’t moved her hands away from her face yet.

“Do you want to go on a date?” He asked quickly.

She finally dropped her hands and looked at him.

“Right now?” she asked, confusion evident on her features.

“Yeah, why not?”

James reached forward and pulled her hand into his own, leading her out of the common room.

The girls whooped and cheered as they walked past.

“Where are we going?” She asked, coming to walk in stride with him, their hands still connected.

“Just trust me,”

#james potter #james Potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction

[queenie-avenue]

Hey! I saw your post about the requests and was wondering if you could write a story about Sebastian and a female MC, which contains a lot of angst ( with a happy ending ) maybe about a huge misunderstanding with jealousy on MC’s side and all is good in the end? :)

Thank you!! 💚

You're so pretty, it hurts.

—> he's so popular he can barely give you the time of day now.

⤻ reader is a female, reader's house is not specified, reader is insecure, reader is easily jealous/a bit clingy, angst with a happy ending but it's like more internal turmoil than straight up arguing, jealousy, all characters are in their sixth year, ominis is the best wingman, mentions of the events in hogwarts legacy, sebastian is on the quidditch team as a beater

note: i know that sebastian is canonically unfit, and i love him for it, but i think he would be good as a beater. thank you for the ask, btw anon! <33 keep them coming!

🦋 ⤻ archives.

Ever since the events of last year, you and Sebastian weren't that close anymore. He had promised things would be the same, but a part of you felt like Sebastian blamed you for the events that happened in your sixth year. You blamed yourself too, to be honest. If only you had been more persistent, if only you had been more persuasive, Sebastian wouldn't have lost his sister and uncle.

You still dream about the hollow eyes of Solomon Sallow, at times. Regretting how you did nothing to stop Sebastian from going down the path of evil.

Although you and Sebastian did not talk that much anymore, you still heard whispers about him. Well, technically they weren't whispers given how everyone was speaking about him to the point the whispers grew into a buzz that you could not fizz out from your brain. Your dearest slytherin boy had decided to try out for the quidditch team this year now that Professor Black finally allowed the darn sport to be played. Ominis told you — yes, Ominis and not Sebastian — that Sebastian wanted a way to let loose that anger inside him, he hoped that being a beater would help with his issues, get his mind off things.

That seemed to work, given how little he seemed to think of you nowadays.

Even now, as you sat in the library, you heard giggles from girls who thought that Sebastian looked rather dashing in the quidditch uniform or how some guys were jealous of the attention Sebastian was getting. Even some guys fancied the slytherin boy too.

You slammed your book shut and practically stormed out from the library. "A library is meant for studying, not gossiping." You muttered, overcome with jealousy, ignoring the fact that you had been gossiping with Poppy just weeks ago.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

You stood at the side of the quidditch field, staring up at the sky as the slytherin team flew overhead, practicing drills for next week's match with hufflepuff.

"You know, this would be much easier if you talked to him." Ominis said, interrupting the gawking session you were currently undergoing. You had invited Ominis over to the quidditch field in an attempt to make things less awkward when Sebastian would eventually descend from the sky back onto the green patches of grass.

You stood there alongside with Ominis, making small talk as you stared up into the sky — your eyes almost being burnt off by the afternoon sun — as you look at Sebastian flying up there.

His hair riding against the waves of the wind, the curls flapping like a bird's wings, the way all the worries in his chocolate eyes flutter away when he rides on the broom, going against the current of the wind. He looks happier, happier than he was throughout the remainder of fifth year and you can't help but feel jealous and left out. You wished you could make him that happy, so joyous that all his frustration seemed to melt away like snow when spring slowly came to reap.

Insecure thoughts plagued your mind as you played with your fingers, your head slowly dipping as it now paid more attention to the ground and dirt rather than the glorious sight that was Sebastian Sallow.

You didn't even notice when he landed and began speaking.

"[y/n]! [y/n]!" Ominis' voice brought you out of your daydream, and your eyes immediately snapped up to be met with those eyes.

"Hey." Sebastian's smirk was brighter than the sun.

Hey? Was that all he would say to you after avoiding you for the better part of the first two months of the year? "Hi." You replied dismissively, looking away. Ominis seemed to sense your apprehension as he nudged you. Poor Ominis, really.

"What are you guys doing here?" Asked Sebastian as he reached out to grab your shoulder but you simply moved away.

You would have paid to see that look on his face again.

"Just watching the show." You shrugged as you looked over at the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team that had landed. Imelda seemed to shoot a particularly dirty look at Sebastian for riding away from them. "You did well. I saw you." You commented rather stiffly.

"Yeah well, training will do that to you. I can finally walk up the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower without running out of breath!" He laughed and you responded with a polite chuckle.

Then you both just stared at one another.

"Confident about the game?" Ominis asked, attempting for what seemed like the millionth time to help with the relationship.

"Yeah." Sebastian said rather cockily, looking like the fifth year you first met. "We're going to pummel hufflepuff, just you wait." You smiled at that.

Just then, one of the other beaters, a rather tall girl practically ambushed Sebastian, throwing an arm over his shoulder. "Oh Ominis, and the new fifth year!" She said, but all you could focus on was how chummy she was with Sebastian.

"I'm a sixth year now, actually." You corrected, perhaps a bit too sharp.

"Hah, yeah, sorry. You just made an impression was all, the whole defeating Ranrok thing." The girl smiled and you could tell she was genuine in her awe of you but your eyes kept glancing over at where Sebastian and her made contact. You had no claim over the boy but you felt like your heart was shattering into glass pieces as he returned her side hug.

"We should probably head back to doing drills, before Imelda burns a hole in either of our heads." Sebastian commented, his eyes drifting towards you intently.

"You will be watching us during the match, right?" The boy confirmed, looking at you with anticipation.

You were almost tempted to make a snide remark about how he didn't need you anymore given the fact that he had a whole team and school of people who wanted to be near him.

All you did was give a simple nod before excusing yourself, not wanting to have your heart broken further.

✧ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ✧

As he soared through the winds, your eyes still remained on him and only him. You didn't even know whether or not Slytherin was winning. You could hardly care for anything else other than the triumphant look on his face every time he blocked or parried a bludger. God, maybe a bludger to the head would help see sense and just speak to you properly about why he was acting so strangely.

You barely registered it when they announced that Slytherin had won the match, only realising it when Sebastian practically tumbled to the floor, thrown onto it by the same girl you had been so jealous of the other day.

Sebastian smiled at her and lifted her up into the air, his eyes brighter than ever.

Had he ever looked at you that way?

You wanted to puke, you wanted to scream, but you couldn't. Not here. Maybe because of your pride but the moment his eyes met yours, you dashed. Skirts fluttering in the wind as you ran and ran, practically sliding down towards the edge of the black lake. With no one there other than the mermaids at the bottom of the lake, you sank towards the ground.

Perhaps it was a bit dramatic but you were a teenage girl and you saw your crush embrace another girl like it was nothing. You think you had the right to be dramatic.

You sat down, not caring about whether or not the dirt or water would stain the fabric of your skirt. You didn't care much about anything except the way Sebastian looked so happy without you.

Had avoiding you really made him that more relaxed?

You curled up, holding your knees close to your chest as you fought back tears.

The sun had set by the time you finally regained enough sanity to wonder whether it was time to head back to the castle.

Before you could have any other rational thought, you heard the rustles behind you, your wand raised and pointed at the intruder only to see a boy with freckles dotted all over his face raising up his hands. His forehead was marred with sweat, cheeks red and mouth panting as he stared at you.

"Where the bloody hell were you!" He practically screamed, causing you to lower your wand.

"Well, I'm here, as you can tell." You didn't mean to make his worries seem like a joke but it just slipped out.

"I was-" he panted. Despite how fit his arms had gotten, Sebastian still couldn't run well, it seemed. "I was looking for you everywhere! I thought you went to go fight Ashwinders, or something! I was scouring the entire place for you." He said, approaching you and grabbing hold of your shoulders, shaking you like a mad man as he looked into your beautiful [e/c] eyes. "Don't- Don't scare me like that. Please." He begged.

"I- I didn't mean to." You replied, shocked at how emotional Sebastian suddenly was.

"Please don't do that again. You know I lost her, I can't lose you too." He said and you knew he was obviously referring to Anne and you felt pity for him, but you also felt annoyed. You wanted to push him away as he embraced you, his sweat smearing all over your dirt-stained clothes.

"If I'm so important to you," you started, "why have you been avoiding me?" You finally let your emotions spill out as you caressed the side of Sebastian's face, eyes leering over his prominent freckles. You had once joked they looked like constellations but really, Sebastian was as bright as a star. "You kept running away from me," your hands gently touched his skin, enjoying the texture of the slight stubble he had shaved. "You didn't talk to me, I thought I did something wrong."

"You did nothing wrong." Sebastian cut in.

"Then tell me why."

"It was- I couldn't help it. I was terrified. I know you promised to always be by my side. But I was so scared I'd disappoint you, I wanted to better myself. At the start of the year, throughout the holidays, I kept having the urges to use dark magic. I knew I might cave in and use it and I- I didn't want you to see me when I eventually failed." Like you, it seemed Sebastian was finally spilling out everything he ever wanted to say. "It was so stressful." He whispered, head buried in your chest.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the fact the mood was so emotional, you would have thought Sebastian was trying to cop a feel.

"It didn't look stressful earlier when she hugged you." You thought aloud.

"Is that what you're upset about?" Sebastian asked, looking up from your hug.

"Ngh.." you groaned, not wanting to admit your jealous tendencies but Sebastian simply smirked as he wrapped an arm around your waist knowingly.

"I just needed a way to vent out all that stress. Ominis suggested Quidditch so I gave it a try. I just wanted to be better for you." He whispered. "You like more athletic guys, don't you? The way you look at the Gryffindor boys when they fly tells me a lot." He said, expressing his own envy.

"I don't like other boys, I just like you." You left those words hanging in the air.

"I was scared I wouldn't be. That if I caved, you would leave, like Anne did." He said, his grip on your waist tighter now.

"Even if you fell back into dark magic, I'd be there to pull you out. I would never abandon you." You emphasised, holding Sebastian closer.

"But it wouldn't sit right with me. I wanted to let you go, that's why I didn't respond to your letters all that much during the holidays, I thought you deserved some better." He said, blurring the lines between your relationship. "But when I saw you on the first day... I just couldn't. I wanted to be selfish. But I knew I didn't deserve you, so I wanted to become someone who did."

"You were always enough." You told the slytherin boy, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm getting better. I don't- the urges for dark magic aren't there anymore. Whispers tempting me but when I look at you, they all disappear." He admitted, one of his hands reaching up to brush your lips, taking in the curve of your eyelashes, the blush on your cheeks and finally the way your lips were pursed. "All I think of when I see you," he breathed, inching closer, "is just how much I want to be with you." He admitted.

He was getting closer and closer until there was barely a centimetre between the both of you.

His lips were so soft.

Both of you tumbled to the ground in a passionate embrace as your arms wrapped around his neck and his around your waist. It felt like forever as he continued kissing you, giving you only a bit of space to breathe before he dived back into your lips, wrestling your tongue like if he didn't taste it, he may die. His hands travelled up, bunching around your hair as he tugged softly, causing noises of ecstasy to escape from your lips.

"Sebastian." You called.

"[y/n.]" He responded as he pushed his lips harsher into yours.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, he pulled away. His eyes bore into yours, the reflection of you sparkling in his.

"Trust me, you are enough for me." You whispered as you pulled him into a chaste kiss, something sweeter than the desperate first kiss both of you had.

"You'll never leave my side?" He asked.

"Never." You smiled.

Sebastian's tense expression finally loosened as he kissed you again. "I suppose we can't exactly call each other friends anymore, can we?" He chuckled as he dived back into another kiss.

"Yeah, and that also means you can't let anyone else hold you like this. Even your quidditch team." Sebastian laughed at your words.

"With how jealous you are, I'm surprised this didn't happen sooner."

He kissed you again and it felt like heaven.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow imagine #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #ominis gaunt #anon ask

[starstruckunknown-princess]

Forget-me-not - Eddie Munson x Reader

Forget-me-not (Myosotis) - Meaning: Don't forget me, remembrance

Summary: Reader visits Eddie's grave. Little does she know what awaits her there.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 958

Warnings: Drug use (reader smokes weed), ANGST (with a happy-ish ending), dead!Eddie, Reader was part of ST4 events, cemetery setting, Vampire!Eddie, blood

Day 17 is another angsty one but I think it ends on a positive note. I love Eddie, and I fully believe the Cas storyline is what we'll see in season 5 cuz there's no freakin way I will just forget about this sweet metalhead, you hear me Duffers??

In Bloom Masterlist

Likes, Comments, Reblogs are SUPER appreciated! ❤️

You held your breath for as long as you could, feeling the smoke invade your lungs before sputtering it loose. The smoke filled the inside of your shitty beater car. You knew you’d reek of it for the rest of the day but you didn’t care. 

You hadn’t cared about much for the last few months. Not since Eddie died. 

Taking another hit, you glanced over at your passenger seat. A bundle of fresh cut flowers — white daisies, the flowers Eddie had brought you on your first date because he heard they were your favorite. A pang of sadness hit you right in the gut, like a punch and you blew out the smoke, feeling the calming effect of the weed. 

You’d only been here a few times since the funeral. It was difficult to bring yourself here, to stand where his uncle had buried an empty coffin and pretend Eddie was down there instead of stuck in the hellish landscape that was the Upside-Down. 

God, everything was so fucked up. 

The whole town was convinced he was a bloodthirsty maniac who deserved what he got. Only you, Wayne, and Hellfire club knew him for what he’d been. A sweet, brave, incredible guy who lived in his imagination because reality was difficult. 

He’d called you ‘princess’ and ‘love’ and drove you to and from school every day in his van, holding your hand the whole way there. He planted kisses on your cheeks when you passed in the halls and wrote you little love notes that he snuck between the pages of your notebook or textbooks so you’d find them later. 

He’d been so gentle when he took your virginity (after having listened to your long-winded feminist rant about how virginity was a “bullshit patriarchal concept”). Every touch and sigh and moan etched on your memory forever. Afterward, he cleaned you up and wrapped you in his lanky arms and told you he loved you for the first time, his big doe eyes shining in the dim light of his room. 

You’d been so incredibly, irrevocably in love with him. And he was gone. 

If you didn’t get out of the car now, you never would, so you stubbed out your blunt and grabbed the flowers and got out. The cemetery was quiet, despite being next to a busy highway. It was early evening, the sun hanging low in the sky and casting everything in an orange glow. Walking through the rows and rows of headstones until you found the familiar name. 

‘Edward Munson’

‘Now at Peace’

Except that wasn’t the truth. His body was rotting in another dimension, probably torn to shreds and completely unrecognizable by now. 

“Hey, love,” you said to the chunk of granite. “I brought daisies.” You crouched, laying the bouquet in front of the headstone before plucking out a few longer blades of grass that threatened to obscure his name. 

You sat down in front of it, not really sure what to do. Talk to him? Cry? Another long feminist rant about how you hated the idea of marriage but how you would’ve married him in a heartbeat? 

Because you would’ve. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you said, absentmindedly picking at the grass around you. “I should’ve gone with you and Dustin. I could have dragged you back so at least you’d be here and not there. If I’d been there, you’d be home. Or maybe you…” you trailed off with a long sigh. “It’s no use living in the past, is it? Except that’s where you are, it’s the only place you are right now and I can’t — how do I keep going on without you? I just want to hear you laugh again, Eddie. Feel your arms around me one more time…” 

Tears spilled down your cheeks. The gaping wound in your chest reopened and you doubled over, letting yourself sob. You cried until the sun disappeared, at some point laying down on your side in the fetal position. 

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, because you woke up sometime later to a brush against your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open and you shivered in the chilly night air as you sat up, looking around. You had the strange feeling you weren’t alone. 

The sound of leaves rustling behind you made you turn, and you choked on your gasp. 

Sitting on top of his own headstone, looking a little worse for wear but still beautiful, was Eddie. His clothes were torn, but free of blood. His curls were frizzing out under his bandana, and his rings glinted in the moonlight. 

He looked up at you from under his brow and smiled wickedly, “Hello, princess.” 

You scrambled toward him, a fresh wave of tears falling down your cheeks. Eddie met you in the middle, kneeling in front of his headstone and welcoming you into his embrace which you dove into, clutching his leather jacket and burying your face in his neck. 

“Shh, princess, I’m here,” he muttered soothingly. Placing kisses from your cheek down to your neck, you barely registered a pinching pain from his teeth. He groaned. “Ohh, you taste so good. Missed you so much, so sweet for me…”

You sniffled and pulled back from him to look him in the eyes — his big brown eyes that you swore you could drown in — but your gaze was drawn down to his chin, covered in something that made it dark. With a shaking hand, you reached up and traced his lower lip, gathering some of the substance. 

Blood.

You looked back at Eddie, who was still holding you and gazing down at you like he always had. Full of love, hope, all-encompassing joy. 

And then he smiled, revealing two long, razor-sharp fangs.

#writing challenge #fanfiction #in bloom #angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #vampire!eddie munson

[finelinevogue]

the warmest bed

summary - your bed is the warmest harry’s ever stayed in

warnings: negative past relationships, swearing, inspo

word count: 1k

“Y/N?”

You shuffled up the stairs, turning of the hallway light with the spare hand that wasn’t juggling a cup of tea.

“Yeah?” You called back to Harry, who you knew was already in bed waiting for your daily bedtime cuddle together.

“Did I turn the heating off?”

“Yeah, H. Y’did.”

Walking upstairs and into your bedroom, Harry had his pyjamas on over his white wife-beater shirt and boxers. They matched yours identically. Yes, you were that couple. He was all snuggled into the cotton sheets and feathered duvet, ready for a long sleep after a busy day.

Only after a cuddle or two, though.

“What?” You giggled, wondering why he was being so bashful.

“What?” You giggled, wondering why he was being so bashful.

“Just excited to have you sleeping next to me.” He pulled back the duvet to allow you to slip in next to him, not wasting any time to draw himself closer towards you.

He smelt like home. His nighttime routine meant that his face smelt freshly washed and his breathe slightly minty from the toothpaste. His hair was slightly greasy, but that was nothing a morning shower together wouldn’t fix. He was gorgeous under the soft night-light glow, his face slightly dewy from the products he used.

“Really?”

“You might as well break up with me if I wasn’t excited. Nights with you are my favourite, Y/N.” He smiled, slinking his arm around your waist to pull you closer towards him again. Your hand went straight up to his hair, threading your fingers through the brown locks and massaging away the stress of the day.

“Tell me more.” You spoke softly to him, not needing to fill the room with your voice when he was so close to you.

“The only way to describe how I feel when you’re here, is this is the warmest bed i’ve ever slept in.”

His eyes caught yours and you could tell there was a hint of sadness behind those pretty eyes of wonder. You furrowed your eyebrows thinking about him being even slightly sad, because if you could you’d keep him in a bubble of happiness forever.

Leaning in, by not very much, you used the grasp on his hair to pull him closer towards you and meet your lips. You watched his eyes follow the movements of your lips, before closing his eyes when you closed yours. You pushed your lips onto his, hoping he could sense how much you loved him just by the simple gesture. It was only a little kiss, but it was filled with as much passion and love as any other.

When you pulled back, Harry’s cheeks had gone slightly rosy and a little ringlet of hair had fallen to his eyes. After moving the hair back into its place, you moved back so you weren’t completely breathing in each other.

“What was that for, hm?” He asked, looking at your lips to see that he’d left them beautifully tinted.

“I can tell when you’re sad. Your big soft eyes give you away.” You smiled at him kindly.

“Y’always tell me that.” He smiled back.

“Some people wear their hearts on their sleeve, whereas you wear yours in your eyes.”

Harry’s eyes smiled at yours, sparkling with so much love. His eyes often twinkled like a beautiful night sky when he was extra, deeply, in love with you and this was one of those times. Other times had been when he’d first met you at your local chippy, or when you gave his nephew your chocolate chip cookie even though you’d been looking forward to it all day, and especially when you’d met him at the end of the aisle.

“Now you don’t look so sad.” You took note of his eyes looking happier.

“That’s because now i’m thinking of you.” He chuckled like a 14 year old girl having a crush.

“And who were you thinking of before?”

Harry didn’t need to verbally answer because his eyes did all the talking. The way they down casted to look at the space between you both and his lips slightly frowned, made you realise he was thinking of his ex-girlfriend. The woman who tainted his heart to profit off of his fame. The ex-girlfriend that broke him so dearly that you were afraid to be the one to fix his heart.

“She doesn’t deserve a second thought from you, H. Or anyone, for that matter.” You told him, knowing sometimes he just needed some reassurance.

“I know. I’m not sad because of what she did or who she was. I get sad thinking about who I would be if I’d never have found you.” His eyes re-met yours and you could tell he needed a little bit of loving.

“You would’ve been okay. I believe you would’ve been strong enough to mend your own heart.” You smiled warmly, reminding him not to take himself for granted.

“Maybe. Still would mean a world without you and a bed left cold.”

“But I am here.” You told him, attempting to get him to realise the positives.

“You are.” He nodded.

He leant in to give your nose a soft touch with his own nose, humming in appreciation as you tugged at his hair for a continued massage.

“So don’t think about her. Think about how strong you are and how loved you continue to be. You are a fucking amazing person, H, and more of a decent human than anything she’ll amount to.“

He kissed you because he couldn’t wait another moment not to. You were his and no one knew how much time you’d have together, so he’d take every kiss he could.

“I don’t know how I found you or if the universe just decided that it was our time to meet in this life, but I could never leave you, or this bed, knowing it’s the warmest i’ve ever felt.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles boyfriend blurb #boyfriendrry #fic rec harry styles #fic rec finelinevogue #harry styles blurbs #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles angst #husband!harry

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 2.6k ➠ warnings: cursing, extremely brief implication of alcohol? (bestie chenle is back and bringing his best unhinged wine aunt energy to adulthood and we love that for him) ➠ genre: fluff, slice of life, established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after between two palms, before freezing the puck) ➠ extra info: the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: ok how could i NOT write a lil something about their time abroad ft. my bestie, your bestie, everybody’s bestie chenle still being a little menace ➠ series masterlist

You shrugged off his apology by grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his lips down to yours. Sungchan tasted like the ocean, like seabreeze and salt spray, and he happily hunched over to deepen the kiss, pressing your head back against the back of your chair.

Standing in the small regional airport of the little tropical town that you were staying in, you fanned yourself as you watched the sky out the window. The air conditioning was of course broken (not that you’d ever heard of a time that it was working), and you wished you could just stand straight on the tarmac as that would honestly be cooler.

After successfully defending his thesis and graduating with his PhD, Sungchan had (after discussing it with you) accepted an opportunity to join a team studying a tropical fish in its native habitat abroad for ten months, and you of course came with. It was a whirlwind of getting everything ready to move internationally in less than a month, and now that you two were finally sort of settled in, you were having your first visitor from back home.

Finally, you spotted the small prop plane descending, and literally bounced up and down in place with excitement as it landed, and you got a look at the four passengers deboarding right onto the runway. Your focus was on one in specific, as he fumbled with putting his sunglasses on as his hat nearly blew away in the strong winds.

As soon as he was in the doors, he spotted you with ease—there were only a few others waiting for their own family and friends—and you two nearly tackled each other with hugs.

“Chenle!” You squealed, squeezing him tightly.

“Y/N! Oh my god!” Chenle let you go, his chest heaving dramatically. “Did you see that landing? I thought we were going into the fucking ocean for a second. God, and the turbulence—I thought I was going to die, like typing my will in my notes app at 40,000 feet.”

“You’re too used to being spoiled with all those first-class international flights for work,” you scoffed, grabbing his rolling luggage as he kept his duffel bag on his shoulder.

“Business class,” he tried to insist as he followed you outside. “And really, is it too much to ask to not have my seatmate almost throw up on my shoes because the plane is convulsing like we’re in a cocktail shaker being thrown around by a flair bartender?”

“Oh no, did baby’s designer shoes almost get a little bit of commoner vomit on them?” You gasped teasingly.

“That is not what I—”

“Really brave for you to complain about getting somebody’s puke on your shoes.”

“That was one time sophomore year, I can’t believe you haven’t let it go,” he complained.

“And I never will,” you snickered, finally arriving at the small car that the research institute loaned out to the team for personal use. “Now come on, we’re getting brunch. Sungchan says hey by the way, and he wishes he could’ve met you at the airport too, but they had to go out on the boat early this morning. We’ll probably see him a little after lunchtime.”

“So what exactly are you two doing out here?” Chenle asked, reclined back in his seat and sipping on his second colorful cocktail of the day. “It’s absolutely gorgeous here, by the way, so if I were you, I wouldn’t give a shit what Sungchan was doing…”

You laughed, biting on the straw of your one and only drink. “He’s studying a tropical fish that’s only found in this region. Not really the whole fish, I guess, but apparently some of it could help cure human blood diseases. So that’s more the part that he’s interested in. His research head from his doctorate program recommended him for the spot on the team, and so far it seems like they love him.”

“And you’re just…?”

“Enjoying the view?” You replied sheepishly. “Been doing a lot of reading, exploring the area, trying to keep myself busy. His stipend is enough to support the both of us, and the research institute provides our housing and all those utilities, so I’m really just trying to keep busy while he’s out and about for the next… eight a half months?”

“I’d say you’re living the dream, but I know you…” Your friend pulled his sunglasses down just so you could see it clearly as he narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re going to get bored.”

“I’m enjoying the break! Really!”

“Tell me when you start writing an academic article out of boredom.”

“Well…”

“Already? You’ve been here for six weeks!”

“I haven’t started writing it, but I was re-reading the screenplay for M. Butterfly the other day, just something short, you know, and started taking some pretty rough notes about this idea that I’ve been turning over in my head for a while.”

He shook his head. “Of course you were.”

“I have to get a job when we go back, LeLe! I can’t be a stay-at-home girlfriend forever,” you tried to defend yourself.

“Sungchan would probably be cool with it.”

“After he made sure I wasn’t replaced by a robot, an alien, or suffered some kind of head trauma because he knows I’d go crazy like that.”

“I’m just saying…” Your friend gestured to the incredible view that the waterfront restaurant offered.

“Sounds like you want to be Sungchan’s stay-at-home girlfriend, Chenle,” you crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned mischievously. “Hell yeah, you two looking for a third?”

“You’re going to eat those words when you see the size of the apartment they put us up in.”

As soon as Chenle stepped over the threshold into your small one-bedroom apartment in town, he looked around, as if expecting more.

“You’ll be sleeping on the couch, sorry. Mine and Sungchan’s room is in there,” you pointed. “And the bathroom is connected, so we all have to share this week, sorry again.”

“You know, thanks for the offer, Y/N, but I don’t think I’m cut out for the throuple lifestyle.” He patted you on the back. “Good luck on your search, though.”

“Ungrateful little—” You cursed, grabbing his ear and yanking on it. “Wait until I tell your mom about this!”

“Tell my mom what?!” He yelped, jumping back from you and cradling his ear. He clearly wasn’t over taunting you either, though. “You want me to tell her that I rejected your throuple offer?”

“I’ll tell her it was your idea in the first place. She won’t even care about that when she hears about you rejecting my kind and selfless hospitality!”

He merely stuck his tongue out at you, and you stuck your tongue back out at him. With the situation essentially resolved, you two relaxed again, and he gave the apartment another lookover.

“It is really cute in here, actually,” he appraised. “How much of the décor is yours and how much came with the place?”

“Most of it came with the place, we couldn’t bring a whole lot, and we can’t buy too much while we’re here if we can’t bring it back.”

Reclined on the beach later in the day, you hummed contentedly at the cool breeze blowing over your warmed skin as you sat under the shade of an umbrella and some trees. You and Chenle had already swam around for a bit, and were taking a short rest back up on the shore.

“So when’s Sungchan allegedly supposed to appear?” Chenle asked, taking pictures of the incredibly blue water with his phone.

You checked your watch. “They left pretty early this morning, but he didn’t bring a lunch, so probably soon. Thirty minutes or less if I had to guess?”

“Hey, can I see that?”

“My… watch?” You held your left hand out to him, confused.

“No, this!” He smacked you in the face with the back of your own hand.

“Hey! What was that for?”

“Sorry, thought you couldn’t see it.”

“See what? How fucking dramatic you are? I’ve known that forever.”

“No, this!” That time he didn’t hit you with your own hand, but instead pointed to your bare left ring finger. “No ring?”

“No ring,” you confirmed calmly, yanking your appendage back from him so it couldn’t be used for evil again.

“Isn’t this the same guy who said ‘I love you’ on your first date or something?”

“Second.”

“Right, my bad, second date. And you two have been together for…” Chenle silently counted on his fingers. “…Six years?”

“I was worried for a second there at five. Thought you wouldn’t figure out how to get to your other hand.”

Chenle ignored your provocation, though, already on a mission. “Same guy who said ‘I love you’ on the second date hasn’t proposed in six years?”

You sighed, sitting up in your chair and leaning over the armrest towards him as if you two were conspiring on some plot. “I didn’t want to say anything but… we did pick out a ring before we left.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Got a little distracted with having to move to a new continent in like three weeks, sorry!”

“Did he bring it? Is he proposing here?”

“I don’t know! That part’s supposed to be a surprise!” You shoved him, laying back against your chair back again. “We had all the big talks and stuff, he has the ring somewhere—here, home, I don’t know—and now’s the surprise part: When it happens, how it happens, where it happens.”

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands. “I rescinded my right to making decisions in the relationship when I left the throuple—”

You smacked him on the chest, “Shut up! Is that is now? It’s no longer rejecting an offer, you now were in our relationship, and left us?”

Chenle cackled. “Yeah, keep up, Y/N.”

“This is going to be the bit, isn’t it?” You deadpanned as he continued laughing. “The running bit for your whole week stay is going to be continuing to develop this nonexistent throuple lore?”

“I’ve got to keep myself entertained somehow.”

“Well, I’ll have to tell Sungchan that you left us, he’ll be devastated, I’m sure…” You retorted, knocking down the brim of your hat to cover your eyes. “I’m going to rest my eyes. Don’t get lost and don’t drown.”

“Heard.”

Just a few minutes later, and you heard the sound of a motorboat coming closer and closer, then the chatter of several familiar voices. The sound of shoes kicking through sand got nearer to your chair, then there was an even more prominent shadow over you, and you could sense someone hovering there. Right as you opened your mouth to say something, a drop of saltwater dripped off of whoever was standing over you and into it.

“Pfft!” You sputtered, shooting up in your chair and wiping your mouth as the newcomer burst into laughter.

“S-Sorry, baby,” Sungchan clutched his stomach, holding onto the arm of your chair for support. “Should’ve toweled off better…”

He was in a wetsuit that had been unzipped so that it only clung onto him from the hips down, the black material going down to just above his knees. His hair was clearly still damp, sticking up in crazy directions and he had that same excited, breathless smile he always had when running up to you after a boat day. His bag of personal effects and materials was on the ground by his feet, and you could see a towel crumpled up on top of that.

You shrugged off his apology by grabbing him by the back of the neck and pulling his lips down to yours. Sungchan tasted like the ocean, like seabreeze and salt spray, and he happily hunched over to deepen the kiss, pressing your head back against the back of your chair.

“Hey Sungch… Christ…” Chenle’s voice trailed off from somewhere further away. “You two know there’s other people on this beach, right?”

You reluctantly let Sungchan go, glaring at your friend. “And where the fuck did you go? I said don’t get lost.”

“I was in the water! Like right in front of you!”

“Hey, Chenle,” Sungchan greeted him enthusiastically like nothing had just happened, wrapping the smaller man in a big bear hug. “Glad you made it here in one piece, dude. How was your flight in?”

“Don’t rile him up…” You groaned, covering your face, but it was already too late.

“It was the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced! We like, seriously almost crashed into the ocean. Like, actual water landing!”

As Chenle took over your shower early that evening, you and Sungchan went about your own tasks. He had to wash out all of his equipment that didn’t get taken care of at the marina and you put the finishing touches on Chenle’s makeshift couch-be. Sungchan stood directly under one of the lights at the sink in your kitchen—well really, it was more of a kitchenette, with a sink, a few cabinets, and minimal counter space that was taken up by a microwave and single plug-in electric burner, both of which couldn’t be plugged in at once for safety reasons and because the counter could only fit one at a time.

Glancing up from where you had just completed Chenle’s couch-bed, you furrowed your brow thoughtfully as you looked a bit harder at Sungchan’s complexion. Meandering over to lean against the counter next to him, you reaching up to gently tilt his head to expose it to the light better. Then, you grabbed his collar and pulled it to the side to take a peek at the skin of his shoulder. Sure enough, bright pink as well.

“Baby, you’re sunburned again,” you declared, letting go of his clothes.

“I let you put sunscreen on me this morning!” He protested, putting the last small piece of equipment onto the hand towel sitting on your counter.

“Did you reapply? That stuff’s not supposed to last the whole day, you know.”

With a slight pout to his bottom lip, he looked down into the sink guiltily. “I forgot…”

“Sit down, I’ll get the aloe from the fridge.”

He plopped himself down into one of the chairs around your tiny dining table just a couple steps away, pulling his shirt off and setting it on the surface in front of him. You grabbed the already near-empty bottle of aloe vera from the fridge then joined him.

Depositing a generous amount onto your fingers first, you then started applying it gently to the sun-tender areas of his shoulders.

“Ugh…” He groaned in relief, dropping his head forward into his hands. “Thank you, baby.”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were doing this on purpose so you could have me doing this every night,” you replied teasingly, making sure you went down the pinkened skin of his back as well.

“Ooh, hey, that’s a good idea.”

“Sungchan…”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I really do just forget, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You started on his other shoulder. “Anyway, I was telling Chenle about that little place we like by the water, with those scallops you love. Sound good for dinner?”

“Sure, whatever you guys want. I’m ready to third wheel for the week.”

“He’s your friend too!” You insisted, pushing him back so you could access his also sunburned chest and face.

“But he was yours first, and you two are best friends.” He closed his eyes, a content smile spreading across his face. “Just happy to see you so happy, baby.”

Having finished his chest, you stole a peck from his lips before applying a small amount to his red cheeks and nose.

“God, I’m going to need to gouge my eyes out by week’s end!” Chenle had appeared in the open doorway to the bedroom, fully clothed and with a towel wrapped around his hair.

“And who was practically begging to be our third less than twelve hours ago?” You snapped back, carefully leaning your elbow on top of Sungchan’s hair to avoid all the sunburned areas you’d just tended to.

“Wait, what?!” Sungchan looked up at you, knocking your arm off his head.

“Don’t worry about it, I broke up with you two,” Chenle waved him off, dropping onto your couch. “So when’s dinner?”

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[sehunniepotwrites]

Head Over Broomsticks | J.JH

SYNOPSIS. When your friends are tired of watching you and your crush go around in circles, they take matters into their own hands. Putting their Advanced Potions skills to the test, Donghyuck and Chenle conjure up a powerful truth serum and slip it in your drink right before a Quidditch game, which leads to a few inappropriate comments about No. 77, Jeong Jaehyun, of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. This would’ve been fine if you were just a regular spectator but you are much more than that--you’re the Announcer and everyone is subjected to hear your unfiltered thoughts. Just great.

PAIRING. Gryffindor Beater!Jaehyun x (f) Quidditch Announcer!Reader GENRE. Hogwarts!AU, Sports!AU, Quidditch!AU, humor, fluff, suggestive WORD COUNT. 3.5k+ WARNINGS. reader makes a lot of suggestive comments/innuendos that are also Quidditch puns (referring to Jaehyun’s parts as a bat, bludger, stick, broom, etc.), profanity, kiss, mentions of food and drinks, spiking a drink with a truth potion, no explicit scenes!

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters and concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work.

“Hello, Hogwarts, and welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season!”

A deafening roar made its way through the Quidditch Pitch. The game itself tapped on the centuries old Slytherin versus Gryffindor rivalry that brought everyone to the stands. Each bench was filled to the brim, students and staff alike huddling together to all warm the wooden benches. Those who weren’t able to find a seat surrounded the Pitch’s borders, straining their necks for hours to watch the game taking place in the sky, hands covered with gloves and filled with flags to support their beloved team.

Professor Minho Choi, the official Hogwarts referee and the school’s very own flying instructor, stood in the middle of the Pitch with the wiggling chest. Everyone watched in anticipation as he spoke to the players, green and red, hovering above him. No one could hear his exact words but you all assumed it was warnings to play a nice clean game. All players closed their eyes on his command. His scuffed, leather boot kicked the side of the chest, releasing all the required equipment for the game to start.

“Out come the Bludgers. The Golden Snitch comes next; that’s worth a whopping 150 points, if you don’t remember! Whichever team seeker snatches the fast flier first will earn those points and will end the game!” Choi’s gloved hands took hold of the Quaffle, taking a second to smile at the players, before tossing it into the air. “The Quaffle is released and the game begins!”

Amongst the spectators, of course, was you with your hands gripping the announcer’s microphone, usually dedicated to relaying every single move. And although you were initially excited to be at the game, where you would hear the angry swish of brooms along with the cheers and jeers, you were now hating every little second that passed. Why? Because, no matter how unfiltered your thoughts were when it came to Quidditch, it seemed that this time around, you were on another level.

“There goes number seventy-seven, Jaehyun Jeong of Gryffindor, hitting the Bludger away from his side of the field and onto the other. Oh, how I would let him beat me with his sti—” Your comment was interrupted by a wand poking your side. Professor Changmin Shim, the Gryffindor head, simply glared at you before jerking his head to the current game on the pitch. “Sorry, Professor!”

It wasn’t like you wanted to make comments such as that one out loud—your crush on the handsome Quidditch player was something you wanted to keep to yourself and your small group of friends. The thing was, no matter how hard you tried to restrain them, they just spilled out of your mouth. The words flew out faster than the Golden Snitch zooming around the field—there was no way of stopping them. 

You couldn’t catch your words. 

Merlin’s beard, you could barely keep your mouth shut to begin with. That was how you ended up at the next Hogwarts Quidditch Announcer, following in the footsteps of the loudmouth  Lee Jordan and the mischievous Baekhyun Byun. Despite that fact, you were never that explicit when commenting on plays. The unfiltered thoughts resonating through the microphone was all thanks to your idiot friends, Donghyuck Lee and Chenle Zhong.

“You are dead to me,” you whispered harshly at your friends.

“You always say that, mate,” Donghyuck said as he stretched, resting his palms behind his thick head of hair.

“When are you going to actually act on your threats?” Chenle added on with a smirk.

“Today. Say your goodbyes, boys,” you say with an evil glint in your sharp eyes, doing their best to follow the plays. You leaned forward and made a comment about Slytherin’s swift Keeper blocking the Quaffle from entering the middle hoop, earning a cheer from their fans. 

“How long does this potion last?”

“Six hours, give or take,” Chenle recited from memory. Two hours had passed since you consumed it and each game lasted around two hours. Hypothetically, you would have to deal with the effects of the serum for two more hours. “Why?”

“Time to find your crushes and blurt every dirty little secret you rascals have.” 

There was a reason you three got along. You were all menaces. Their eyes widened and before they could beg for your forgiveness, your eyes caught the Pitch’s referee making a call. Leaning into the mic, your voice boomed throughout the yard. “FOUL!” Your volume increased as the passion for the game overcame you. “Slytherin was just issued a foul for cobbing, rightfully so! KEEP YOUR SHARP ELBOWS TO YOURSELVES, YOU DAMN SNAKES! I’M LOOKING AT YOU, NAKAMOTO! I HOPE YOU DON’T MAKE IT TO THE HOUSE FINALS!”

“Hey!” Donghyuck placed his hand over his heart, pretending to be offended by your comment.

“Oh, don’t get all soft on me now,” you roll your eyes at him. “You’re a damn snake for pulling that stunt and you know it.”

“Hiss hiss, motherfucker.”

“Ten points from Slytherin,” Professor Taeyeon Kim blurted out from the bench behind you.

Donghyuck and Chenle’s big eyes became circles at their own house head’s betrayal. “Professor Kim, what gives?!”

“No need to curse, Lee, hold yourself with dignity,” your instructor held her ground, her eyes not even leaving the field to give her two students a chance. 

Smart yet dumb was how you would describe your meddling friends. Much like every friend group, each person had their own strengths. Donghyuck and Chenle’s strong suits just so happened to be Potions and they always used it to their advantage. Because you were afraid to confess your feelings to Jaehyun, the two decided to take matters into their own grimy hands. They slipped Veritaserum—a truth serum—into your morning coffee that you chugged before rushing to the Pitch. 

Your liking towards Jaehyun developed over time. It didn’t hit you all at once like your other crushes. In fact, you didn’t like him at all at first. His cockiness when it came to his athletic ability irked you in your previous years as a Quidditch fan. Jaehyun’s confidence grew throughout the years, his second-year benchwarmer days long behind him once he had a chance to debut his skills. Some people wanted to be him, others just wanted him. 

Others much like yourself.

Especially when all he would do was blush in your presence. (And yet, you still couldn’t bring yourself to confess.)

If anything, it made Jaehyun all the more attractive in your eyes. He could barely make it through a Friday Potions lesson with you as his partner once, stumbling over his words as he read the recipe out to you. It turned your cauldron into a ticking bomb, the gooey substance exploding all over your robes. Jaehyun, who was never a klutz when it came to these things, flushed with embarrassment while you stared blankly at him, hands filled with what was meant to be your exit ticket at the end of class. Professor Yunho Jeong made the two of you stay behind to clean the mess up as he graded your papers. The Gryffindor coach, who doubled as the potions professor, was secretly entertained by his star athlete’s lack of coordination and words the whole time.

“God, I’m so sorry, I really don’t know how I mixed up the words like that,” Jaehyun reiterated while he scrubbed the sticky floor. His red and gold tie dangling too and fro with each miniscule movement. The athlete was on his hands and knees right next to you with his long, white sleeves rolled up above his elbows. His robe and sweater vest were long forgotten, settled on his assigned lab bench, mingling with your own belongings. 

“Jaehyun, it’s okay. People make mistakes like this all the time–”

“I know but–”

“Jae,” you said, clearly exasperated, “for the last time, it’s okay.”

When your classmate failed to reply, you turned to see a redness spread from his ears, down to his cheeks, and dot his precious nose. He blinked slowly, pretty mouth opened just a tad. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” you wiped your face with the back of your palm, pushing your loose strands out of your sight. “Is there something on my face? I thought I already wiped it all off.”

Your comment pulled him from his thoughts, his hands shaking in front of you. “No, there’s nothing on your face. It’s not that.”

“Then what?” you poked the bear, shifting your attention until it was fully on him. Jaehyun looked at you with a bashful expression and you jutted your jaw towards him, giving him that silent reassurance. 

“You called me Jae,” he said after a beat, “you’ve never done that before. Only my friends call me Jae.”

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to, it just slipped.” 

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just surprised,” Jaehyun laughed nervously, “that’s all.”

“If you don’t want me to call you that, Jaehyun, you can just say so, it’s alright.” Gritting your teeth, you went back to work, adding an insane amount of pressure into your scrubbing. You wanted the cold floors to swallow you whole.

A warm hand rested itself on your forearm, halting your movements. “You can call me Jae.” His soft and sweet brown irises found yours, the tiny corners of his eyes lifting up as he smiled. 

“Are you sure?” 

“As sure as I can be.” Jaehyun’s hand gave you a little squeeze and a giggle escaped you. Turning away from him, you shyly continued your work, way too flustered to maintain eye contact.

Another second passed before Jaehyun’s low voice spoke again, “Call me whatever you like.”

Even after that exchange, Jaehyun still felt extremely apologetic for putting you through that on a Friday. He felt so bad that he went out of his way to find your friends to ask for your favorite dessert. The same dessert Donghyuck and Chenle mentioned showed up via owl delivery with the sweetest note on a Sunday morning. You found Jaehyun in class the next week, thanking him for the thoughtful gesture, failing to mention that you saw him frantically fighting a younger student for the last dessert in the case at Honeydukes. The moment remained in your head years later, when you did, in fact, call him whatever you liked.

“He certainly has quite the Bludger, doesn’t he? Jeong is so hot,” you swooned as Jaehyun leaned back on his broomstick, padded arms stretching towards the sky. He snuck a glance towards you, eyes meeting across the way, and you just knew that his red ears were hiding underneath his brown helmet. 

Your focus wasn’t even on the game anymore as the seekers dove towards the grass in an attempt to catch the snitch. You had tunnel vision with the student that claimed your heart. 

Number twenty-nine of the Gryffindor team, Chaser John Suh, decided it was high time to stop right in front of your stand. His shouting voice was loud enough for your microphone to pick up, projecting his comment throughout the field. “He really does, I’ve seen it with my own two eyes!”

Ripples of laughter moved through the audience like a wave.

“I’d like to take a ride on seventy-seven’s broom, if you know what I mean,” you shot back, eyes trailing said player as he swung his bat to deflect a Bludger. 

Fuck, why couldn’t your brain just shut up? You cringed at every single lewd comment that escaped your motor mouth, slapping your forehead repeatedly without end.

As that comment rang throughout the stadium, Jaehyun’s broom shifted in your direction so quickly, the boy almost lost his steadiness. Known for his insane balancing skills, Jaehyun wasn’t one to be easily knocked off his feet; after all, his job in the sport was to maintain his balance while handling his hat to ward away unwanted Bludgers. You, however, were the only one who could make him this way. 

Johnny knew it and so did the rest of the Gryffindor team. And as his best friend and fellow teammate, it was Johnny’s job to embarrass Jaehyun, even if it cost their team losing the game. The Gryffindor members grew tired of Jaehyun’s flustered state whenever he came near you. The confidence in him disappeared every time the beater flew past you and Johnny knew pushing the buttons of your thoughts would do the job.

“I think everyone knows what you mean, sweetheart,” Johnny laughed, “I’m sure he wouldn’t be opposed to it!”

“Suh, don’t you dare make me take points away from my own house!” Professor Shim hissed, pointing his wand towards the center of the field.

“Sir, yes, sir!” The Chaser saluted with a grin, zooming back into position. 

The game continued with your usual distracted commentary, the animated remarks amplifying tenfold when it came to player seventy-seven, which made the match all the more interesting. For an opening game of the season, it was the closest match the school had seen in years: 210-200 with Slyterin barely in the lead. 

“Slytherin Chaser trio–Nakamoto, Ten Lee, and Yangyang Liu–speed their way through in the famed Hawkhead Attacking formation, to force the Gryffindor Chasers aside. A great tactic for the snakes, may I add and OH–Chaser Suh is on their tail, zooming in behind–NO, WAIT–next to them, fast enough to break their tight triangle! AMAZING WORK, SUH! The Quaffle is now in his hands. He’s going towards the other end of the field with Jeong following behind, deflecting all the Bludgers Slytherin throws Suh’s way.” Your eyes never left the dynamic duo as they inched towards the hoops belonging to their opponents. Your vision flitted to your crush, who fell into place right next to Johnny, broom in one hand and bat swinging around in circles on the other. His gaze resembled a radar, grazing the Pitch for the incoming hardballs that were most definitely going to fly Johnny’s way. Jaehyun barely managed to knock out another ball that was aimed to harm Johnny with his bat before the elder took the clear shot in front of him. 

“AND HE SCORES! GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN ARE NOW TIED AND IT’S ALL TO JEONG’S BEAUTIFUL ASSIST DURING SUH’S THROW!” Your fingers pressed on the button of the scoreboard, increasing the number on Gryffindor’s side. Your loyalties were as clear as day. “Jeong, what else can those hands do? I’d try ‘em out for size.”

“Bloody hell, someone please get her off the mic before I do it myself,” Professor Shim muttered more to himself than to anyone else.

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that, Professor?” Donghyuck smirked, the gleam in his eye glowing as brightly as ever. 

“Ten points from Slytherin,” the teacher announced, eyes still focused on the game. He swore that particular duo reminded him of the legendary Weasley twins that were in his year during his time at Hogwarts. Donghyuck’ s grin immediately dropped. 

“Professor!” Chenle tried to protest.

“Each.” Both Slytherins felt their shoulders sink. They could practically picture the green sand in their hourglass decrease. 

There was barely time to chuckle at their misery when a power play occurred right before your very eyes. You felt the two Seekers–Renjun Huang of Slytherin and Mark Lee of Gryffindor–fly past you before you saw them, the athletes riding their brooms faster than the speed of light. There were no questions asked when they were picked to be their team’s representatives. Both boys, although young, were lithe speedsters that were hard to spot with a normal eye. Even the hardcore fans at Hogwarts had a rough time keeping their eyes on their teammates. 

“Off the Seekers go, towards the Slytherin’s end of the Pitch, following the Snitch wherever it may go. Whoever gets it first will break the tie and win the game. Lee’s on enemy territory with almost no one to defend him–a bat just hit a Bludger right in Mark’s direction with two Chasers locking him in–AND A QUICK SAVE FROM JEONG ALLOWS LEE TO BREAK FREE AND CONTINUE ON HIS QUEST FOR THE SNITCH! Great work, Jeong! Goodness, I’d kiss you if I could. Hell, I’d do whatever you want me to!”

A collective hiss of your name came from the professors surrounding you but at this point, you didn’t care.

The force of Jaehyun’s swing causes his broom to propel him straight in front of your stand. Jaehyun hovered before you with that dimpled grin and even though the wacky flying goggles blocked his cheeks, you just knew that they matched the color of his Gryffindor uniform. Maybe the surge of confidence came from his plays. Maybe it came from your unending compliments, but it was enough to make him draw his broom closer to where you sat, look straight into your eyes, and say, “Do whatever you want to me. I’d love it all.”

His act of courage caused your eyes to widen, grip the microphone in your hands with whitened knuckles, that you missed Mark Lee doing a deep dive straight for the grass with an outstretched hand, his fingers finally grabbing hold of the Snitch after two hours of flying.

A sharp jab to your side–courtesy of Donghyuck–snapped you back into reality.  You were able to guess the results of the game by the way all the Gryffindors surrounded Mark, who was lifted on Johnny’s shoulders. But even as you announced the winners of the game–Gryffindor with 260 points–your eyes did not falter from Jaehyun Jeong. He did not rush to join his teammates. He stayed there, ripping his goggles off his eyes, to look right at you. 

Jaehyun reached over to change the score on the board, his face loitering so close to yours. His lips were close enough to taste and the victory glow made him look like an angel in red. Jaehyun’s post-game look, with his messy helmet hair and sweat-slicked skin, was a sight for sore eyes, you couldn’t look away from him. You couldn’t even try.

“How about this Saturday?”

“What?”

“Saturday. You and me. Hogsmeade. How ‘bout it?” 

“Really?” 

Jaehyun’s pretty grin widened as you questioned him. “Really.”

“Okay, this Saturday. It’s a date.”

Jaehyun backed away to clear enough space to do a quick, nerdy little spin on his Starsweeper, making you laugh wholeheartedly at his cuteness. His broom led him straight to you once again. “I should head over to”–he jerked his head in the direction of his team–“celebrate with the rest of the guys but be my date to the afterparty?”

“That’d be a dream come true,” you admitted, the truth serum still working its wonders. 

“Brilliant,” he chuckled in both awe and disbelief. “I’ll wait outside the Common Room for you.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Jaehyun flew away to join the rest of the Gryffindors, still throwing Mark in the air. He stopped midway on his path, when the crowds around you were thinning out and you were beginning to pack up your belongings. Like acting on instinct, his Starsweeper brought him back to you one more time. He yelled out your name, grabbing the attention of everyone still on the Pitch. They all turned into onlookers as he floated on air. His body was on the front end of the broom, hands resting at the tip and torso leaning towards you. 

“One more thing before I go,” Jaehyun said. On his face was a lovesick expression, one that no one else could mimic. 

You cocked your head to the side. “Yes?”

Jaehyun closed the distance between your lips with the slightest bit of pressure. You sighed into it, meeting him with a bit more eagerness that had him smiling into the kiss. He pressed another one and then another one, with a strong arm wrapping around your middle and the other snaking up to cup your jaw. It was the best victory kiss he could ever ask for.

His lips lingered and you could still feel his breathing as he balanced on the broom. His lashes tickled your skin before he drew back from your personal bubble. Jaehyun’s whole face was red, from the tips of his ears to the bottoms of his apple cheeks as he flew backwards, the broom already leading the way. “I’ll see you later, alright, lovely?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Jae.” 

One truth serum was all it took for you to get the boy. For once, your blabbering mouth didn’t lead you to trouble. As much as you wanted to kill Chenle and Donghyuck for making you suffer, you supposed a thank you was in order as well.  After all, they led you to the best feeling in the world, falling head over broomstick for Gryffindor’s all-star Beater, Jaehyun Jeong. 

Even with twenty points taken away from your house for your lewd comments and your unexpected public display of affection, it was a great way to kick off another year at Hogwarts. With your mind and heart fluttering like the Golden Snitch in Mark’s hand, you couldn’t wait to see what else was in store. 

AUTHOR’S HOWLER. Happy Jaehyun Day, my loves! My Valentine self is back, writing for Jaehyun again. I really missed writing for him <3 I hope everyone enjoys this lil fic. It’s been sitting in my drafts for years and I’m so happy it’s finally being released. I tried my best to make OC sound like Lee Jordan and stay true to the characters in the books. Please tell me what you think! 

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @emmybyeakitty @ppangjae @sokkigarden @kaepop-trash @suhnnyskiess @baekhyuns-lipchain @bebsky @bat-shark-repellant @renjuunsz @ferxanda @lebrookestore @yutaholic @alluringjae @justsayk @itsapapisongo @ashes23 @hyperfixationficrecs @bebskyy @misakiise @iwishiwasthemoontonight​ @inlovergirlsworld​ @tyongblr

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© sehunniepotwrites, 2022

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[deathbecomesthem]

Estate Sale 1 of 2

Eddie Munson x Medium!Reader | 3.8K

Summary: Home is not home anymore. The road is your friend. You find yourself in a strange place where you encounter a spirit unlike anything you've known before after a trip to a strange estate sale. There will be second and final part upcoming.

A/N: The first bit of this was written as a request for @jo-harrington on a different blog. I've decided to revive it. This is a story that asks you to suspend your disbelief. Take a journey into the weird, and don't come to me for answers.

Warnings: Blood, body horror, mental distress, and a reader that has a vague history of institutionalization.

The world you live in is on fire, and he is cold. He’s been cold for as long as he can remember. The bites festered for so long. They opened wide, blackened and bleeding, making him hunger for things he could never find. The ache in his gut never satiated, even when his sharp teeth broke the skin of the petal-faced creatures that populated the world that had become his home. He kept to the places he knew from the other side, his school, the Hideout, his trailer - he sat on the stained mattress with his Sweetheart laid across his lap when he heard the primal screams of that spider-like beast. Both the man and the smoke. The time after his new home splintered and bled, his own body changed again. It healed. He laid in his bed, wrapped in the blanket his mother knitted together when he was a baby, and he healed. The wounds closed and began to scar. The sharp fangs that broke the soft skin of his lips dropped from his mouth. And he slept.

–

The combination of heat, humidity, and orange smoke from the raging wildfires - a discontenting trifecta. Is the whole world designed to make you miserable? Yes. It must be. The wind that whips through your beater of a car moves like the air of a convection oven, perfect and even baking without the need to rotate the cookie tray of your faux leather driver’s seat. You wonder if it’s a mirage when you see it, a desolate highway on the central eastern part of Indiana - “Estate Sale”. Mercy. You pray to the gods that wherever the sale is located, there will be air conditioning.

You thought after making your way through Nebraska you’d seen all the corn the world had to offer, but Indiana proves you wrong. It’s not until you pass a sign that says “Entering Hawkins” that you finally see roads lined with trees rather than corn stalks that are looking ready for harvest. You notice the scars on the earth as soon as you enter the city limits. The goosebumps on your forearm are what make you realize how cold the air in your car has gotten, like the air conditioning suddenly kicked on at its max setting. But no, your windows are open, and the sky is darker. Another sign, black spray painted letters on brown cardboard, “Estate Sale”. An arrow pointing to the left at the stop sign a quarter of a mile in front of you.

So you push down the indicator and turn.

–

Eddie only stirred a little in those decades of healing when Wayne took his last breaths. His own steady breaths began to quicken along with his father’s. He gasped in air and felt the vice grip on his lungs. A burning, empty feeling when he tried to expand bronchial tubes and let the oxygen in. The gasping was brief before turning into hollow breaths. Slower. Slower. Slower. And then the darkness pulled him back into that quiet and restful place of waiting.

–

When you reach the center of town, the unease you’ve been feeling turns into disbelief. The town hall is barely visible through your foggy windshield, a building marred with large scars that look like the smaller ones you’ve been seeing along the roadside since you entered the town. You think about cranking your steering wheel and going back the way you came when you see another cardboard sign pointing to the right. It’s not some sort of mystical force driving you through this apparent ghost town, it’s your curiosity. You tell yourself, curiosity killed the cat, and then remind yourself, but satisfaction brought it back.

Another turn of the steering wheel, and a short jog down an old road when you see the final sign. You avoid potholes that threaten to swallow up your Ford Fiesta and take a final turn down a gravel road greeted by a much larger sign reading “Forest Hills Trailer Park”. You are not surprised to see rows of mobile homes alongside the small road your car is bouncing along. You’ve almost forgotten your purpose when you see so many cars that haven’t been roadworthy since your mom was a teenager. You’ve entered a time warp, it’s the only explanation your brain can come up with. Finally, at the end of the gravel road, you see a trailer with a scar down its center. It’s cold enough now that you’re extending your right arm to the backseat of your car to find a hoodie you haven’t needed to wear in over a month. Outside of the trailer are boxes. An estate sale with no one to collect your money, just boxes sitting on the ground with a spray painted “Free” sign propped against one. 

Free is something you can afford.

–

Gravel crunches under your boots as you approach the line of boxes. It occurs to you that the trailer itself might be worth entering, but think better of it. Let the ghosts keep their secrets and take what they’ve so generously offered you today. A shiver creeps down your spine when you consider how many spirits might be watching you from the tree tops in the woods that encircle the trailer park. You can feel how real they are in the silence that echoes inside your ears.

*crunch, crunch*

You keep moving until the tip of your boot is against the box closest to your car. It doesn’t have any markings, not like some of the other ones further down the line. You’ve decided to roll the dice and peek inside, only to find dozens of mugs. No one wrapped them in newspaper to protect them from chipping. You gasp when you see it - a Garfield mug almost exactly like the one your Nana had in her kitchen. Nana kept that mug for you, and always served you her special hot chocolate in it. You know it’s not Nana’s mug, because that special cup is chipped on Garfield’s cheek. This one is pristine. You consider, only for a moment, that you could take the whole box with you. Put it in the back of your car and line your kitchen shelves with the mugs. You can hardly believe your eyes, these vintage pieces are in such good condition. You shake your head, pick up Garfield, and move to peek into the next box.

Inside you find mostly clothing, tattered flannel shirts and threadbare jeans. There’s also a stack of hats on one side. Most look barely worn. Evidence of a working man’s wardrobe. You let your fingers brush against the soft denim of a pair of blue jeans at the top and imagine the man that wore them. They’re old school Wranglers, probably worth something even in their current worn condition.

This is when you catch a glimpse of a treasure hidden behind the boxes. Through the misty fog of that strange atmosphere, a shock of something red catches your vision. The way the boxes are laid you, side-by-side, you only catch a sliver of the instrument placed onto its back in the gravel. It’s a B.C. Rick Warlock. You’re not a guitarist, but your Uncle Keith was. You’ve seen pictures of him with a guitar that looks just like the one in front of you, only your uncle’s was black. Your hand moves like a magnet, reaching behind the boxes to pull out your prize. This sweetheart of a guitar found its new home with you. She flashed you her smile, and now you’re hers.

You pulled out of the ghost town of Hawkins, Indiana 3 hours and 15 minutes after pulling into it with - a guitar you don’t know how to play, a guitar pick necklace, a Garfield mug, and a silver mood ring. Each item gave you a sense of joy, each for different reasons. Nostalgia of a more innocent time in your life, memories of family now lost. And you wonder about the previous owners. Most of their belongings, with the possible exception of the pretty guitar you have riding shotgun in your car, would be found at the local dump. The Estate Sale signs bother you, because you know that means they must be gone. So you promise yourself to remember them, even if it’s only when you drink your first cup of coffee in the morning, or when you fiddle with the new necklace around your neck.

You stayed later than you meant to, and the sun was fully set when you lost the sight of Hawkins in your rearview mirror. You’re getting a hotel room tonight. It doesn’t matter that it’s out of the unrealistic budget you never really meant to keep in the first place. You need a fucking shower certainly, but that’s not your top motivation. You want a room with an electrical outlet to plug in your new guitar and see how she sounds. The idea sounds stupid inside your own head as you think it, you don’t know how to play. Not even a single chord. 

But it feels right in your hand, the weight of it. You brushed your fingers against the metal strings and felt the vibrations move through you, building and creating a need. Your fingers twitched and you felt a song in them, a tune ringing through them that you only vaguely know. You find yourself humming it through your closed lips when you see the roadside motel with the red “VACANCY” sign lit up.

Even with the sun down, it’s hot as hell outside. You’re happy to see that each room has an air conditioning unit set high up in the outside wall. You can almost smell the freon in the air, and it sends a little shiver of excitement down your spine. You’re desperate after leaving the much cooler air of Hawkins. There’s only one other car in the parking lot,that you assume must belong to the person sitting behind the counter of the front desk. 

A bell chimes above the front door as you push it open, drawing the attention of a middle aged man sitting with his feet propped up on the counter in front of you. His balance is lost and you see him attempt to catch himself before he slides off the vinyl office chair. 

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.” You offer a quick apology as he awkwardly plants his feet down on the linoleum below his feet, that Midwestern habit that won’t quit. Apologies all around.

“Oh, sorry. I’m good. Just didn’t expect anyone tonight.” He’s giving you a friendly enough smile when he asks, “you need directions? Or, do you want a room?” 

“A room please. At the far end, if possible.” You’re thinking about the song inside of you. You need to let your fingers strum without pissing this guy off by making too much noise. 

He’s turning to grab a key from the hooks behind his chair, real metal keys with big red tags hanging from each, when he asks another question, “You’re lucky you came through when you did. This place is coming down next month. No one takes these back road highways anymore. It’s too bad. We did alright for a while when the Hawkins ghost hunters used to make a regular appearance, but that’s been waning for years.”

Your interest is piqued at the idea of a local haunting, but even more so at the name “Hawkins”. A part of you had started to wonder if it was only a delusion your mind created, the otherworldly town with the estate sale. The sale that offered you that beautiful instrument and a pick necklace to match the red of the guitar.

“Oh, ya know I just passed through there. What a creepy place.” You wrinkle your nose, remembering the way cracks in the earth spread out like a giant spider web through the town center. “What happened there? Some kind of earthquake?”

The motel manager - you look and see the name “Keith” on his nametag - is looking at you with open shock. Like he’s looking at an alien, something his brain has never seen before. He swallows, shaking his head at the same time and says, “Ain’t no way to pass through Hawkins. The government has blocked off completely at the city limits since the huge ground shaker two years ago. The city hall, along with the entire city block where it sat, were swallowed up into the earth. Real apocalyptic stuff.”

You open your mouth to rebut his statement, and close it again. It really was just a hallucination - a strange oasis hidden inside the surrounding fields of corn. That earth scarred land only lived in your mind, despite the tangible evidence of its existence sitting in the trunk of your car. It doesn’t matter, because you’d rather believe that you lived in a delusion than the alternative. That you entered another world, something that is simply not possible. 

But then why do your fingers ache more and more with every passing moment, crying to stroke the neck of the guitar - Sweetheart, Sweetheart, Sweetheart - and coax a song from her. The desire, need really, overwhelms you. So you  nod in agreement, say something along the lines of, “of course, I must be mistaken, I’m sure I would have noticed a giant crater in the ground”, and head out the glass door of the motel office.

—

Eddie’s breathing is picking up, something that hasn’t happened in years. It’s been decades of a dreamless sleep, but his mind is sending out small sparks of ideas. His fingers twitch. His heart, that’s been beating at 30 bpms for more than 30 years, is firing at a steadily increasing rate. The chrysalis is beginning to crack, and his mind is humming a tune. One that you’d certainly recognize.

—

The room is exactly how you expected it to look, only a little cleaner. You’re pleasantly surprised to find a light smell of citrus hanging in the air. The sheets are probably as old as you are, but they smell fresh, and the comforter is soft. Any other night, you’d crawl in and fall asleep without a moment’s hesitation. But you’re anxious to spend time with your new treasures. You’re absentmindedly twisting the mood ring on your finger. You expected when you had placed it on your finger earlier to see it change against the warmth of your body heat, but the plastic gem remains onyx. 

You try not to think about the reason for your impromptu road trip while you plug in the amp to the wall socket at the head of the bed. You push back on the memories. Strange things speaking to you in the dark, the hospital, the dead things reaching out to you from their restless afterlives. Prescriptions to fight against psychosis and the hallucinations that never fully left, only grew more quiet in your mind. You’ve learned how to survive this world, to disconnect from those otherworldly voices, and to never speak of them out loud in this world where seeing is believing. 

Now, though - something is moving you, an impossible to fight force. And that’s fine, because your curiosity, your desire to connect with the thing that’s led you here, is not a malevolent force. You know that in the same way you know that the sky is blue, the grass is green, and that the living and dead are separated by a thin veil that only some folks can see through.

There’s no one here with you to look at your behavior and show you caring concern. No one here suggests the idea that maybe you ought to drive to the nearest inpatient facility and sign your rights away until the “ghosts” leave you alone. So, you let the gentle hand of the spirit speak through your hands. 

They’re not your hands anymore. For the length of the song, you’ve been pushed down somewhere deep inside of you. You can feel the weight of the guitar in your hands, feel the strings under your fingers, hear the sounds filling the small room. A presence, stronger than any spirit you’ve encountered before now, is using your body. It’s a peaceful feeling, letting them take the reins, bobbing your neck along with the fierce and frenzied movements of your fingers. 

5 miles plus one dimension away, Eddie’s eyes open. You see through them. You feel the cold air, smell mold and dirt. You hear the faint beat of wings, and a scream of pain. Your body never falters while it plays the song that you now recognize as an old Metallica tune. You feel a string pulled tight - that other body sits up in its bed and shakes its head. You call to him without a voice, eerily similar to the way you’ve been called in the past. You feel him exhale as the echo of the final notes your body plays on the BC Rich echo through the room.

—

Eddie doesn’t know anything outside of the need to follow the path in front of him. He remembers dying. He remembers his true self leaving the flesh, drifting through the air of that hell dimension, never breaking through the gates. Eventually, settling back in the still form tucked neatly into the mirror image of the bed where he spent so many hours of his life in the real world. 

He knows nothing and everything. His heart beats in his chest, and air moves through his lungs - this is a living body that should have molded along with the blanket that covered it. Instead, he’s listening to a familiar song and following its sound through the empty wasteland where he’s been hidden away for decades. 

And you. He knows you, a stranger that heard his soul cry out and answered without fear. He trusts the path, he trusts his guide. He knows the music will show him how to finally leave hell and walk in the sunlight once again.

—

You sit with the neck of Sweetheart, you know this is her name, in your hand. With that knowledge comes recognition. This guitar has an aura. It has a soul. No, that’s not quite right - a piece of someone has been left inside of her. It’s what called you to her. The chain on your neck that held the guitar pick that is currently pinched between your fingers, feels heavy. 

“You bitch,” you say to the guitar without bite. You’re feeling duped by that world you’ve tried so hard to pretend does not exist despite all of the evidence you’ve been shown so many times in your life. You whisper out, “what have I stumbled into here?”

You stand and place Sweetheart in the corner and unclasp the necklace from your neck. You leave the chain and the pick on the long dresser in front of the bed in your motel room, and walk out into the humid Indiana summer night. You haven’t had a cigarette in 2 years, not since the last time the call from behind the veil was too hard to ignore, and yet you still clocked the machine that stands just outside of the front office door. You fumble in your back pocket for your wallet and push a 10 dollar bill into the ancient machine. You’ve never seen one of these in the flesh, and wonder if the smokes that come out will be from 2024 or 1986. 

You shake your head at the strange, intrusive thought, and absentmindedly pull the knob. It’s not until you’re holding the box in your hand that you realize you didn’t choose your old favorites, Marlboro Reds. You examine the desert scene behind the plastic film with fascination. If you had looked closer at your own hand, you would have seen that the onyx on the mood ring you picked up along with Sweetheart and the guitar pick necklace has turned an opalescent blue-green. But you didn’t do that. Instead, you went back into the now empty motel office to grab a box of matches from the fishbowl next to the guest book on the counter. Again you’re struck by the idea that you have entered a sort of time warp, this place seems stuck somewhere between the past and the present. 1986 with Wi-fi.

1986. The year means nothing to your conscious mind, but for some reason it is conjured once again. You think that Sweetheart will be safe enough in the trunk of your car tonight. Keep the ghost, or whatever is calling to you through the foggy veil between life and death, out of your dreams tonight. The necklace, too. You need to clear your mind or risk being swallowed whole by whatever this is. 

—

Eddie is following two things - the string from his mind that is connected to your own, and a faint glow somewhere in the distance. He is trying to think, but his mind is labyrinthine, and he’s somewhere in the middle unable to see the twists and turns that lead him there. Instead, his body moves on its own accord, and he focuses on the light. 

There are things following him, he can hear the solid foot falls land with every step of his own. The things, whatever they are, do not register as a threat to him. He feels no need to turn and fix his gaze on them. They won’t bother him. They share the memories of the hive mind, and remember the way his teeth felt biting into their flesh. They remember when his wings beat, and the ground trembled. They remember the things that Eddie forgets. 

That light, blue-green and glowing through the darkness of Eddie’s world, takes his feet beyond the places he has traveled. The following footsteps fall away as he continues his journey, the unnatural light frightening the beasts. For Eddie, it’s a beacon of sorts. With each step, his skin grows warmer. 

In the void where the light shines for him, a building slowly comes into his view. He would be confused if his mind knew how to perceive the things that he has been experiencing. Instead, a feeling of relief sweeps over his body when he sees that it’s a motel. His legs are tired, and his head feels too heavy on his neck. His feet carry him to the room on the end where the light glows brightly. The bed in the center of the room is where the source of the beacon is found, and he is more than glad to climb into and sleep in its warm glow. It smells like home here, something he hasn’t known for so long. Tears streak down his cheeks while he slumbers, a different kind of rest than he knew in the coldness of his bed that was not his bed in that monster realm.

—

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic

[mvnsvn6]

texan Eddie thirsting over Steve

wc:560 cw: none

Living near the Gulf of Mexico has a lot of perks.

Eddie prefers it to living in northern Texas, where him and his Ma were at, where the heat is dry instead of humid, the sun about dries him out like a piece of jerky. 

Nothing beats sitting on his trailer porch sharing a cigar with his old man Wayne, other hand holding a sweating beer, hair gets big and frizzy, sunk down on a beach chair in a pair of blue denim jeans, and a sweat-stained wife-beater.

Even better, his most favorite weather, when there's light drizzling all day, like the sky has turned into a mist machine that sprays cool rain wherever he goes, while the sun remains smiling mighty bright. The green is green out here. The prettiest green you'll ever see. 

Nah, see, the gulf has it's scary hurricanes and tornado warnings every once in awhile but nothing beats heading out to the beach and catching sight of a dolphin or two. 

Not too far from Corpus Christi is a little place called Galveston Island where the buildings look straight out of an old western movie. He loves driving in his truck past all of the beach houses that are raised off the ground and finding neat sea shells that cover the sand. 

Eddie was an adventurous child, so surprising, but now, living right here, like this, taking care of Wayne? Yeah a quiet life like this one couldn't get any better. 

Certainly helps that there's a nice view across the trailer park. 

A view where moles span bronze tanned skin, muscles flex and relax from turning a wrench thats working some thingamajig on a motorcycle, Eddie doesn't know shit about shit like cars. Big hands are covered in grease and oil, an almost black towel from said grease lays on a wide set of shoulders, that connect to a plush and hairy chest. And that chest connects to a hairy stomach, and a happy trail that leads to–.

"Ya starin' at that boy again?"

Eddie whips his head towards Wayne.

"Uhhh, no. Definitely not, don' know what you're talkin' bout, Wayne."

Wayne hides his smirk by pulling a swig from his beer, the smug bastard. He chances another look at the man out of the corner of his eye. 

God almighty, Eddie’s never seen a man so sexy. Someone put him out of his misery. 

"Hey, Steve! My nephew's lookin' for some help with his truck, do ya mind?"

Eddie mutters out a quiet, "Yer a son of a bitch, Wayne." He sinks further in chair, cowboy hat tipping down. Wayne just smiles bigger. 

Steve looks up from he was focused on his bike and pushes his hair back from his face, using his hands to shield his eyes from the sun to see them. God, his biceps are huge, and fuck, his armpit hair is showing, jesus christ. 

Eddie is but a weak, weak man, when faced with another man covered in thick, dark hair.

"'Course, sir! Y'all mind if I steal a beer or two when I come over?"

Jesus. Who needs a sun when Steve's around and has a billion wattz smile? It's making Eddie's insides all warm and gooey, somebody call an ambulance.

"That's no problem, son." 

Anyway, yeah, living near the gulf in southern Texas, in a trailer park with Wayne. Well, that ain't too bad. 

#cowboy eddie #yes im waxing poetic about hairy steve harrington again #texan eddie #stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #ficlet #stranger things fic #steddie ficlet #my writing

[bonefall]

the whole thing with the author defending (?) tom the wife beater is so repulsive, and then you read it again and i don’t think bumble is mentioned ONCE. she scrounges for sympathy with turtle tail, but the other one? the fat, useless, other one? forget her! (this is negative towards the authors, i adore the better bones stuff, esp how bumble is treated. vote bumble :) )

I really cannot get over it... to angrily write out a whole screed on how the strongest punishment is regret and not consequence, compare the sentiment of a reader that "Tom didn't deserve heaven" to his physical abuse of Turtle Tail, and then not even mention his other crimes of kidnapping and torture.

Even in death, Bumble isn't important enough to mention. As the books continue, they even continue to only mention her death as an unfortunate accident, or evidence of why kittypets can't join Clans. Even though she was MURDERED.

I think the statement is a good exercise in the difference between a post advocating rehabilitative justice, and abuse apologia just dressed up as it.

There IS a point to be made about how the idea of a Hell/Prison just makes bad people worse. We often have a desire to punish, because we FEEL better getting catharsis seeing A Bad Guy suffer like they hurt others. But that alone doesn't really fix or address a problem.

For example, it's really common to feel that kind of revulsion at a drug addict who robs a convenience store for money. Does it actually reduce addiction rates, or undo the trauma of the assaulted cashier, or help prevent it from ever happening again to throw the robber in a broken prison where they come out, 7 years later, with no rehabilitation?

The answer is no. It didn't help anyone. 7 years pass and he's still addicted to substances, possibly even worse, because prison just made his life shittier. As a leftist we can recognize that compassion is usually the answer.

(Unless, of course... someone needs to be removed from a position of power or actively prevented from attacking others. Violence is the answer sometimes.)

But the thing is, the author didn't SAY that. What they did was compare the impulse for catharsis, to TOM'S DESIRE TO BEAT HIS WIFE.

NO, those are NOT the same thing. Your desire for comeuppance towards a wifebeater character getting a redemption reward for "saving his child" after a long life of cruelty without consequences, is NOT THE SAME as Tom the Wifebeater inflicting pain and suffering on people out of spite.

She had to phrase it in the worst possible way for this argument to even LOOK like it made sense. "She broke HIS rule of Don't Be Mean To Tom" vs "He broke YOUR rule of Don't Be Mean To Turtle Tail." And "Now he's being taught how to be lovely"

Physical abuse, emotional abuse, and kidnapping are not "being mean" and it's both sick and insightful that she'd call it that

Domestic abuse is not a "failure to be lovely," it's the act of harming your family or partner to control them.

Tom the Wifebeater is a character who was not written with a scrap of nuance. He is not a real person. All they did with him was consistently show how much pleasure hurting people gives him, then say him dying for his biokid absolved everything

So in this series where you establish there are Born Evil Truly Malicious people (ONE EYE IS IN THE SAME BOOK), but then turn around to cry that Tom the Wifebeater can be made lovely off-screen...

You end up saying that domestic abuse isn't in your arbitrary "evil" category.

And that's so fucking fitting for the arc of Clear Sky's "redemption," where the same book ends off on Thunder saying that his abusive, woman-killing dad wasn't so bad all along because he's not like One Eye.

The answer's just that simple. They don't think male abuse is all that terrible because it's the same as an impulse; explicitly not malice. So it doesn't make you "evil," and only "evil" people deserve the Dark Forest.

(Dont question the Dark Forest as a concept or how starclan defines evil though :x dont worry about it :x)

#Anyway thank u it is my honorbound duty to give all the women a kiss on the head in BB #Bone babble #I should go back and tag these as Tom Authorial Statement or something

[my-castles-crumbling]

can we have some pandalily or dorlene? pls...

Sure! Dorlene!

It was a bad idea, she knew.

To practice alone.

But she did it anyways, because she had something to prove, damnit.

She was the only girl on the Gryffindor Team. The first girl to play Beater in decades. The only girl to play beater in the league! Well. Until-

But she wouldn't think about that. About her.

Instead, Marlene refocused, looking around for the Bludger she knew was going to be returning to her shortly. She need to practice.

Of course, it was as if thinking about her manifested her. Called her to the Pitch. Because suddenly, she was there.

Dorcas Meadowes.

Tall and lean, dressed in Muggle clothes that hugged her frame, and crossing her arms she stood on the ground, just watching.

And for some reason, it infuriated Marlene.

Who was Meadowes to spy like this? To blatantly stare?

To distract?

Because, too late, she realized the Bludger was screaming towards her. And luckily, she had great reflexes, because she was able to hit it away. But the angle was wrong, and her bat bounced backward, clipping her in the mouth.

And she tasted blood.

"Fuck," she murmured, waving her wand to freeze the retreating Bludger, heading to the ground.

"Alright, McKinnon?" Meadowes called, smirking, sauntering towards her.

"Never better!" she said thickly, but she was mad. Because she was hurt, and in front of Meadowes. And she was terrible at healing charms.

But before she could do anything, Meadowes stopped in front of her, deep brown eyes meeting blue. "Looks like it hurts," Meadowes remarked lightly.

But before Marlene could even open her mouth to respond, the other girl reached out, fingers wrapping around her chin, thumb barely touching her cut lip. In the other hand, she slightly raised her wand.

And her whole mouth tingled at the contact, her body hot and breath coming in small gasps.

All the while, their eyes stayed locked. And somehow, the tension felt...important. Unbreakable. Her stomach flip-flopped in a way that wasn't unpleasant.

After a moment...or a lifetime...Meadowes murmured, "There. Good as new," slightly grazing her thumb on Marlene's lip.

Marlene resisted the insane urge to stick her tongue out and lick at it. "Erm...thanks," she barely whispered.

"Better keep practicing, McKinnon. You're the closest thing here to competition, after all."

Marlene almost smiled at that, head still cloudy, before turning and taking off into the sky.

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #fanfic #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #the marauders era #marauder era #marauders fic #dorcas x marlene #marlene mckinnon #lesbian marlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon x dorcas meadows #dorcas my beloved #lesbian dorcas #dorlene #mwpp #sapphic #fanfics #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction