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the-offside-rule · 5 months ago

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Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

NFL requests are open ♡

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x y/n #joe burrow x you #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fluff #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow #nfl x reader #nfl imagine #nfl football #nfl fic #nfl

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l0vergirlwrites · 1 year ago

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gulity as sin ; eddie munson

synopsis: since eddie joined your friend group, you’ve fallen for him. but sometimes the feelings you’ve harboured for him make you feel guilty—but he’s just too dreamy, so how could anyone blame you?

warnings: sexual innuendos, mentions of weed & alcohol & partying, mentions of sexual thoughts, downbad!reader & eddie, love confession & makeout!!!!

note: inspired by taylor swift’s song “guilty as sin”

alsooo i just had to get this out of my system because ahhhh!!!

“just so you know, you’re staring at eddie like you wanna fuck him” robin whispered in your ear as she came to your side with extra vcr tapes to stack near the back of the store.

“jesus! am i really?” you asked in a hushed whisper, face crowing warm with embarrassment. you couldn’t help it when eddie just looked so good as he leaned on the front counter talking to steve.

while you mentally face palmed yourself, robin gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “just a little bit”

peeking back over her shoulder at eddie to make sure he wasn’t looking at you (because you’re anxious & paranoid), you let out a breath of relief. “you think he noticed?”

she laughed “i hope not”

letting out a quiet gasp, you shoved robin’s shoulder “thanks for the vote of confidence, rob” you said sarcastically.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!—but seriously…” she paused for moment to create dramatic effect. “when are you gonna fess up & tell him how you feel?”

the big question.

with a big sigh, you shook your head in retreat. “probably never. it’s just some stupid crush—& besides, we’re just friends. i don’t know if he’d like me like that, rob.” you said while getting back to work, trying to get the image of eddie’s ring clad hands out of your mind so you could focus.

“is that really how you feel? or is your fear of rejection speaking for you?”

narrowing your eyes at her, you rolled your eyes knowing she was kidding (but was she? were you really hiding behind a guise so you wouldn’t get hurt?).

“you know,” she paused to look at eddie. “if he doesn’t want to jump your bones, i’d be floored” she said cheekily, causing you to nudge her rib cage.

“he doesn’t” you stated, but in your mind you hated the thought of it.

“if that’s what’ll help you sleep at night” she chided before moving onto a different shelf, the open space letting your eyes drift back to eddie, only to find that he was looking right at you.

“you coming to the party by reefer rick’s place on the weekend? i convinced stevie boy here to tag along—“

“—& to be the DD. i don’t know how i got roped into this” steve cut eddie off with an exasperated expression.

with the spotlight (eddie’s eyes) on you, you couldn’t help but feel stuck in place & your mind was running a million miles a minute.

clearing your throat, you nodded. “yeah sure! i should be able to if keith doesn’t make me come in last minute”

the last sentence caused eddie to roll his eyes.

“who cares about what keith says—you’re coming & you’re gonna have fun! you’re deserving of blowing off some steam, right?” eddie said convincingly.

“he’s right! fuck keith & his stupid last minute shift calls“ robin agreed with steve soon following suit.

jokingly with your hands up in surrender, you finally agreed. “maybe you guys are right…”

“of course we are, babe!”

the pet name eddie called you made your stomach flip in six directions, your face growing warm until steve beat you to speak.

“when the hell did ‘babe’ get into your vocabulary, munson?” he asked eddie with a quizzical eye.

“oh calm your tits harrington—“

“hey man, i don’t have tits & i am calm so shut—“

“hey!” you yelled, shutting them both up. “no bickering on my watch, idiots” you pointed to them both, causing eddie to place his right hand in his heart in apology.

“what do you expect,” robin chimed in. “they’re five year olds”

you both laughed a bit at her comment while the guys just rolled their eyes.

“well, i’m gonna head out & prep for my next campaign. butttt, i’ll see you geeks saturday?” he asked while twirling his van keys around his index finger.

before steve could try to rebuttle against eddie about him calling you all “geeks”, you beat him to it.

“yes—we’ll be there! bye eds” you waved sweetly, your hand flattering when eddie shot you a wink before heading out the door.

as the glass door chimed & shut after his departure, you immediately turned to robin.

“he winked at me!” you mouthed to her with excitement.

“are you guys secretly talking without including me, again?”

turning to steve, you gave him an apologetic look. “she was just fawning over how eddie winked at her” robin said with a nonchalant smile, causing you to gasp.

“robin—“

“why do you care if he—wait… ohhh… that makes sense” he lit up like a light bulb, going back to checking through the return log on the computer.

you stood there stumped at his reaction.

“is me liking eddie predictable?” you asked aloud, causing steve & robin to share a glance.

“yes” they said collectively, leaving you to sigh & turn back to the shelf to finish stacking the pile of tapes.

**~*~**~*~*~**~*~~*~**~*~*~~***~*

it was now saturday, & you were on speaker phone with robin as you were getting ready for the party.

you had decided to wear a short flowy black skirt, fishnet tights, your favourite black boots, & a dark green babytee with your favourite band on it. it was simple, but cute (& you secretly hoped eddie would think the tights were a nice touch).

“do you think you’ll tell eddie how you feel once you get some liquid courage in you?” she asked genuinely.

with a thoughtful sigh, you stopped applying blush to your right cheek. “gosh, rob—i don’t know. i don’t think it’s a good idea”.

you could tell she was shaking her head from the other side of the phone.

“remember when i was too afraid to tell vicky i liked her?”

you knew what she was gonna say. “yes, i do”

“so, you remember how you told me i should just ‘go for it! do it before it’s too late—what’s the worst that could happen?’, right?”

you slumped in your desk chair, fidgeting with your makeup brush. “yes…”

“sooo, you gotta practice what you preach—tell him before you regret it!” she encouraged, but still, you were horrified to.

“what if—“

she shushed you. “no what ifs. don’t do that to yourself—just be honest when the right moment comes along”

staying silent for a moment, you thought it over in your head before coming to a conclusion.

“maybe you are right, robin”

“i’m always right—regardless of what steve says” her words made you laugh, relieving you of a little stress.

**~*~*~~~*~***~*~**~**~*~*~~*

it was now nine-thirty on the dot & you could hear steve’s beamer honking from your driveway, signalling that it’s time to go. as soon as you stepped onto your driveway, you were met with hollers & whistles from your friends in the car—including eddie.

as soon as you saw him with his head out the window, whistling & vocally saying “shit y/n, looking good!”, you could’ve sworn you were going to collapse then & there.

shushing them before their hyper annoyed your neighbours, you (coincidentally) got into the backseat with eddie.

“you have everything?” steve asked before reversing the car.

“yes, dad” you joked before a silver flask was shoved into your lap.

“got you your favourite” eddie told you with a smile, causing you to audibly “awe” & thank him before taking a swing from it.

despite steve having a fancy car, the backseat was surprisingly small, so you knew it was going to be a long night with how your thigh is already pressed into eddie’s & his fingers were tapping his jean clad thigh dangerously close to your exposed one.

you caught him every now & then staring at your tights too, which didn’t help the fantasies brewing in your mind of him taking them off you.

“you excited?” you asked him while steve & robin were caught in their own conversation.

swiping his tongue across his teeth, he looked at you with a gaze that made your stomach tighten. “as long as you stick close by, then yeah i’m excited” he nudged you gently, allowing you a moment to process what he just fucking said.

tucking your hair behind your ears (a sign that you were nervous & liked him & were going insane), you let the conversation drift into comfortable silence as steve turned the radio up.

thank god for that.

**~*~~**~**~***~**~*~~**~**~*

the party eddie brought you guys to was packed at some random house on lover’s lake.

& it reeked of pot & beer, which was normal & expected.

with the flask eddie gave you in your right hand & eddie’s hand in your other (because the front lawn was packed & he didn’t want to lose you), your group maneuvered your way inside to disco party lights, sweaty bodies, more pot & more beer.

your grip on eddie’s hand was taut as you continued sliding past more & more people while muttering “excuse me, sorry!” over & over until you guys arrived on the dance floor.

“do you want anything?” eddie leaned down & whispered into your ear so you could hear over the music.

you took a second to answer because of how warm his breath felt against your skin. “no i’m okay, i got this remember?” you said with a smile, holding up the flask he gave you.

returning you a smile, eddie let go of your hand because robin was pulling you to dance a little.

“be back in five!” eddie mouthed to you, holding up five fingers & looking at you until you waved in acknowledgment.

“okay there’s no way he doesn’t want you” robin yelled into your ear as the song changed & people roared happily.

laughing & shaking your head, you disagreed.

“cmon! let’s just dance, yeah? destress!” steve yelled to you both before bopping his head to the music, causing you & robin to look at each other before laughing & join in.

the more songs played & the more you swing back eddie’s flask, you could feel yourself letting loose a little—possibly even making you feel courageous.

so much so that when eddie returned with a red solo cup with some sort of drink, you slung your arm around his middle for a quick hug.

“missed me?” he yelled in your ear.

“just maybe” you replied, feeling his right hand rub your arm up & down before fetching a joint from his pocket.

“missed me more now?” he asked again, laughing when you nodded your head, eyes glassy from the smoke in the room that was building.

“outside?” he yelled again, & you were the only one that agreed.

*~*~*~~*~~*~*~~**~***~*

departing from steve & robin to go smoke, eddie grabbed your hand once again & kept you close as you both made your way to the back porch that outlooked onto the water.

the backyard was still filled with people, especially jocks who were doing dumb keg games, but you didn’t mind. with your back against the siding of the house & eddie in front of you, caging you in, all you saw was him.

& god he looked hot. his hair was a bit frizzy, but his leather jacket managed to showcase his muscular arms & his slightly cropped band tee allowed you to see the happy trail on his abdomen.

it took everything in your power not to fold then & there.

“you want the first hit?” eddie asked as passed you his drink & pulled his lighter out of his pocket.

with a simple nod, you placed the joint between your lipstick covered lips & leaned forward for eddie to light the end of it for you. the action felt extremely intimate & already hand your skin tingling.

with the joint slotted between your fingers, you took a few hits & relished in the buzzed feeling it already gave you. & knowing eddie & is interest in pot, you knew whatever was wrapped within the joint was the good shit.

while you were taking your hits, eddie was reminding himself to not get hard at the thought of your lipstick rubbing off onto the joint or how you looked pretty with smoke exhaling from your mouth—he could feel his pants start to feel the tiniest bit tight at his view of you.

when you handed the joint to him, eddie stood beside you on the wall & took his time (possibly so you could look at him a little longer?).

& you didn’t care because he just looked too perfect with his head tilted up, the veins in his neck showing in the porch light, the joint rested between his ring clad fingers—you could already imagine yourself getting off to this image of him later—but you reminded yourself to stay cool.

everything was fine! you guys were just friends!

“you feeling okay?” eddie asked, turning to you who was already giving him soft doe eyes.

“better than okay” you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder because you felt too warm under his gaze.

“wanna get off inside?” you heard him ask, causing you to cough & blink for a moment.

“shit—what did you say?” you looked at him, feeling his hand begin to interlock with yours again.

“i asked if you wanna go back inside—you sure you’re good?”

oh god, now you were hearing things.

“y-yeah, good idea” you mumbled as you followed his lead, holding on tight to avoid getting broken apart through the sea of teenagers & college students.

you only broke apart when robin pulled you in for a hug, hearing her say “it felt like you were gone for ages!”

for the rest do the night, you told yourself to he lost in the music rather than thoughts of eddie munson doing nasty things to you, which was going pretty successful until you felt his breath on your neck again.

“wanna dance?”

& how on earth could you say no?!?!

you let him pull you into his arms, his hands firm on your waist while yours were loose around his neck.

with the pot & other alcohol mixing in your system, you felt on top of the world. especially with eddie’s eyes on you. he’d twirl you around in circles & give you room to dance your heart out with him in your grasp & steve & robin would give each other knowing glances about whatever was brewing between you too.

you felt hot, sticky, & tingly all over your skin (not just because eddie was touching you) so you pulled his head down a bit to yell in his ear. “i’m gonna find a washroom!” & he was leading you around the house to find one without a question.

once you both found one of the third floor of this outrageous house, you pulled eddie in with you & turned on the light, thankful there was a dim setting.

“jesus, that was bright!” eddie shielded his eyes, causing you to laugh as you hopped up onto the counter.

exhaling a sigh of relief, you let your head lean back & rest against the mirror while eddie leaned against the closed door.

“do you need me to like, turn around or something…?” he asked, wondering what you were going to do.

“no—i just wanted to go somewhere quieter. less sweaty bodies”

he nodded understandingly before shamefully looking you up & down, telling himself to not get hard at the sight of you so pretty. you were already falling down a rabbit hole of all the things you want to do with him right now, each more dirty than the next—it would be just so easy for him to take off your skirt & unbuckle his pants—wouldn’t it?

but the guilt started to seep in & make you hide your face to groan in annoyance because why on earth were you spiralling like this?

“is something wrong?” he walked to you, holding your wrists & pulling them away to uncover you.

“just going insane is all” you replied, causing you both to laugh until he reached up to wipe off some of your smudged eyeliner from your under eye. he just needed to touch you somehow.

“guess what an old friend told me while i was getting a drink earlier”

you tilted your head in wonder, staring directly at eddie’s lips as he spoke.

“he saw us walk inside & told me that we looked like some couple from a movie—don’t remember which one though…” he ended with a murmur, too focussed on swiping his thumb on your cheek until you spoke up.

“is that a bad thing?” you asked, suddenly feeling small in this washroom with his hand directly on your skin.

eddie was closing in on you now, & you didn’t want it to stop.

you instantly felt sober now. especially with how each swipe on your skin felt like he was making you his—which was definitely an exaggeration but how could you need feel that way when he was holding you so delicately?

shaking his head ‘no’, eddie’s brows furrowed. “of course not—it’s not a bad thing. i-i just thought it was, i dunno, cute—“

“cute?” you questioned softer than him, a smile in the beginning stages of forming on your face.

was this your moment that robin was talking about? you sure hoped so.

“i-i think that’s the right word” he stumbled over his words, feeling your right hand brush some hair out of his face.

“i think so too”

& then there was comfortable silence.

you weren’t sure how to move forward from here. do you tell him all your feelings for him that you’ve keep hidden in a vault at the back of your mind? do you tell him that you’ve been fantasizing about him for weeks? that he’s the only one that makes you feel so many things?

you wish this part was easier.

“would it be, i dunno, uncalled for if i told you that you’ve been driving me crazy?” eddie asked, immediately unlocking said vault inside you.

“are you serious?” you asked, completely sober now as you pulled his hand away from your face & fixed your posture, eyes locked on his for the answer.

“as serious as the dead” his breath hitched, unsure if he made things worse or misread whatever signs you sent, but before he could apologize your hands were already on his face to pull his lips to yours.

it was a messy, top lip & hungry kiss that you’ve been dying to experience since you first laid eyes on him. & god did it felt right, with his tongue meshing with yours & his hands gripping your fishnet covered thighs as he pulled you closer to his body with aching need.

it was the kind of kiss that tried to convey just how you felt about him, the wanting & lusting from afar, the longing glances & lip bites when he made you feel a certain type of way.

it was catastrophic & heavy but sweet with laboured breaths of beer & smudged lipstick.

“holy shit” eddie breathed out against your lips, chasing him for another kiss because it was just that good but you were smiling & clashing your teeth against his & giggling from how silly it all felt.

“that is why i’ve been going insane” you panted against him, hands falling to grip the cotton of his shirt.

“i’m crazy about you eddie. & it’s not the drugs talking, i promise” you swore, scouts honour.

with his forehead pressing against yours & laugh escaping his lips that had little bits of your lipstick, he squeezed your thighs. “i would hope not, ‘cause i’m really crazy about you too”

you closed your eyes now, relishing in the weight lifting off your shoulders & how his touch felt electric. “eddie” you exhaled.

“yeah, sweetheart?” his fingers were pressing different patterns on your thighs to the point where you asked in yourself if he was writing ‘mine’ across the fishnet material.

“can we do this again tomorrow?” you asked, already longing for this feeling to last, praying this wouldn’t be just a one time thing at a party.

“i don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon, so yeah, i think we can make it happen” eddie smirked, kissing you quick before pulling back to see your swollen lips.

“wanna go back to the party & surprise the geeks?”

“i’d love to”

& with eddie whisking you from the counter, hand on your hip as he lead you back downstairs, you both immediately saw steve & robin jumping up & down happily when they witnessed you two looking like love sick idiots who finally fessed up.

#l0vergirlwrites💌#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve stranger things #stranger things netflix #fanfic

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therobotmonster · 3 days ago

Note

Saw some of your posts about AI recently, but don't really know very much about you. I have two questions:

1. Are you an actual artist, or do you just do genAI?

2. If you are an actual artist, why do you use/support AI?

We're going to get into this in a minute, but yes, by what you'd likely use as a definition of 'actual artist', I am. I have a BFA in graphic design, a minor in art history, I've been working as a freelance artist either on the side or as my main hustle since 2001, and I've been making art since I was five. Multimedia, 3d modelling and sculpting, photography (in a darkroom type and digital), acrylic painting, illustration, writing, puppetsmithing, I'm a jack of many, many trades.

Because it's a potent force multiplier that lets me do things that I could not previous (as well as helping compensate for my increasingly arthritic joints) and because it's entirely keeping with the copyleft principles I've had since the 1990s. It's just plain interesting and fun. And I had my fill of moral panics in the 1980s.

This is gonna be a long one, enjoy a song while you read.

I've gone over all this many times before, (for full reading, here's the #AI Discourse tag on my AI blog) but the short version is that I agree with the Electronic Frontier Foundation's position on AI art.

To demonstrate, we've got some of my non-AI photobash work, and some of my AI-work of the same type. Both were made using many, many public domain images broken down to B&W lines, scaled, reinked, normalized and colored.

On the left, is a comic made with specific panels from comics that have had their copyrights expire (back when that could happen), on the right, a comic made with about 35 individual dall-E 3 gens. The techniques are the same, the only difference is the source of the pubic domain images.

No one debates whether what I've done on the left is art, yet somehow the one on the right is a problem for some people. Yet I have vastly more control over the latter than the former.

And it's hard to get more transformative than 'broke down into math and blended with literally millions of other math formulas in order to make a completely new image" Replace 'math' with 'memory' and you have how all human creativity works.

Moving to covers, one of my parody deepdream-adjusted comics, and a reinked-recolored AI one on the right. The one on the left no one had a single problem with, but Bruce Wayne and Jessica Fletcher are screencaps, the Specter is a sales photo of a statue with a copy of 1989 Ted Dansen's face, and I'm using direct DC trade dress. Crickets.

On the right, no actual images by humans are used (outside the barcode, comics code authority emblem, and the 30 cent mark.) Same techniques, same situation. Very different reaction.

I also was a young artist in the 90s when Disney and the RIAA bribed and lied their way into extending copyright to its current ridiculous 120 year term, and I recognize what's happening with the anti-AI movement.

The exact same fear-mongering was used to get small artists to rally their congressmen against their own self-interest, and that's what the Copyright alliance is doing now.

Copyright does not help the small artist. It's also a relatively new invention, one that would be baffling to humans through most of history. You can't own art. Not even the people who make it. You can own a canvass or a carved rock or a book, but you don't own the art itself because you can't own feelings or ideas.

Copyright is a limited patent on specific expressions intended (supposedly) to encourage production, a limitation on the business use of art. The arguments levied against AI would kill fanfic, fanart, pastiche, collage, and more.

This isn't a bug, it's a feature, because...

The anti-AI side isn't actually anti-AI, they're pro-regulatory-capture-of-AI-by-Megacorporations. The copyright anti-AI argument conveniently leaves it open for Disney, Warner Bros, Nintendo, Sony, the RIAA, all to make their own AI systems to lower their production costs, because they own more than enough material to make powerful datasets.

They get it, you don't, worst of all possible worlds.

Now, at the start I mentioned that we'd get into the "actual artist" situation. All those people making bog standard waifu-pics with AI? They're also making art. Kids using a spirograph make art. Duchamp's fountain is art. And people who make art are artists.

But more than that "if you're an actual artist why do you use AI?" is an interesting question, because if more people actually used the tech and saw how it works, you'd see a lot less people against it. Most of the anti-AI talking points are just factually incorrect or greatly misrepresent the situation, but nobody is gonna learn that if even using it is treated as a transgress worthy of 'fair game' treatment.

Funny how that works out.

To close out, enjoy one of my music videos, made from dozens of clips made using reference images made with dozens of heavily modified gens that I totally could have made the hard way, except for the lack of 5 million dollars and access to Geena Davis and Ron Ely circa 1982:

youtube

#ai discourse #art and artists #what is art?#copyright alliance #copyleft #copyright #public domain #fair use #my art

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ohhiimweird · 11 days ago

Text

Lengths We Go For Love [Phainon]

Character: Phainon Reader's Gender: Neutral Additional Tags: Fluff, poetic, sleeping beauty based, Angsty ending, Phainon is the flame reaver here, definitely lore inaccurate

--------------------------------

Your limbs were tangled with his when the Entry Hour greeted you both. The Deliverer had a rare moment of free time and decided to spend it with you in his arms. His head rested on your chest while you ran your fingers through his snowy white hair. He let out a heavy sigh like a dog would.

Phainon shifted to where he was practically on top of you. If he had the audacity and the lack of moral compass to hold you hostage, he would have a long time ago. You were sure of it. He might be the most clingy man you've ever met. It wasn't like you were complaining, not when you got to see sides of the Great Hero of Amphoerus no one else could.

"Honey?" Phainon asked. "Can you tell me one of your stories?" His morning voice was groggy but still laced with honey. If you thought he couldn't get sweeter, he continued to surprise you.

"Like the ones I tell the children?" you chuckled. "You live those kinds of epics every day."

"I know, but--" Phainon said.

"I tell those stories better than you ever could?" you leaned on your palm.

"See? You agree with me. Now come on."

Phainon batted his eyelashes at you while giving you the most agregious puppy-dog-eyes. You were already going to say yes. This was just an added touch.

"Alright," you smiled. You immediately thought of the perfect story. The children you taught love it, so you have it memorized at this point. "Once upon a time, there were two lovers. One was a lovely princess and the other was a commoner boy. They both knew that their love couldn't be, so the princess prayed to Mnestia, asking for a way to be with her true love and was given a tonic that would make her fall into eternal slumber. Then, she was given the antidote. The princess gave the antidote to her lover and told him to give it to her when her father declared her dead. The commoner agreed and the princess took the tonic and fell asleep that night. She stayed like this for several months before the king declared her as dead, as the princess predicted. The commoner boy broke into the princess's room and fed her the antidote through mouth-to-mouth. Finally reunited, the lovers confronted the king, saying that the Romance Titan blessed their love and that it was the commoner's kiss that broke the spell. The king was not willing to argue with a Titan and allowed the princess to marry the commoner boy, unaware that it was according to his clever daughter's plan."

Phainon listened intently to the story, despite hearing this one at least five times. He looked at you like you were wiser than Lady Tribbie.

"That one is more light hearted than your other stories," he commented.

"My mother loved tragedies. I didn't understand why when I was little," you said. "But now I think it's because we can't have a happy ending without sadness."

"I would drive away all of that suffering for you," Phainon said. "You deserve nothing but happiness."

"You've said that phrase a million different ways."

"Do you not believe me?" Phainon asked, his brows furrowed in worry.

"No, it's not that," you answered. "But you do realize that you're saying all of this to a simple teacher, right?"

"You're doubting yourself again, love."

"I'm not."

"You are, and I won't stand for it. You're the most beautiful and selfless person I've ever met. I'd rather die than call anyone else the love of my life."

"Okay, I get it," you said.

"I don't think you do." Phainon had that mischievous look his eyes. His hands went down to your sides and started tickling.

You squirmed under his touch, laughing while trying in vain to kick him away. "Hey, quit it!" you squealed.

"Not until you admit you're good enough," Phainon said in a sing-song tone.

You pulled yourself away from him, only for Phainon to pin you back to the bed. Even while teasing you, his touch was gentle.

"Alright, I yield," you breathed. "I'm good enough."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Phainon laid next to you. He gazed into your eyes with such a serious look as if he wasn't tickling you earlier. "No matter what happens, I'd find a way for us to be together. I love you."

"I love you too," you gave him a quick kiss on the lips. He returned the kiss with yearning and even a bit of desperation behind it.

___________________

The Flame Reaver knelt next to your sleeping body. Getting something to put you to sleep for so long was the most difficult thing he's ever done. But, it was well worth it.

You must've thought his words that day were an exaggeration. But, the Flame Reaver was serious. He would do anything if it meant you could be together when the new dawn rushes in. Until then, he would do whatever it took to keep you safe.

The antidote was somewhere. The Flame Reaver didn't know where he put it, but he knows that he has it. That's all that matters.

Perhaps he was inspired by that story about the princess and her commoner lover you told. The lengths they both went for love stuck to him every time he heard it. This is no fairytale world, yet the Flame Reaver relied on one to save you. How ironic.

The skies in Okhema were turning red. The cycle would reset once again and the Flame Reaver would get another chance to save you. He just hoped he would do it right.

#hsr #honkai star rail #star rail #hsr x reader #star rail x reader #honkai star rail x reader #phainon x reader #phainon x you #phainon x y/n

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 25 days ago

Note

hey! Just found your blog and will be doing a deep dive! I saw your prompts and would love to make a request of my own? So I've been very much in cnc deep dive?? idk it just kinda knocked tf outta me and I haven’t gotten up yet so that's fun 🙂‍↔️

anyway... can I pretty please have a 113 "bite me harder — i like it" and a 214 cnc with Yunho? I feel like this would really do a number on me

thank you 😌😌

➯a/n: i just fell to my knees and startED BARKING OMGGG YES. bias wrecker + a personal favorite kink... you betcha i had fun with this one ➯a/n2: this is the request that originally smacked me in the face w the idea for "lowlife princess" so i had to think of something else kkkk sorry for the wait !

Stress Relief

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

113: "bite me harder — i like it"

✈︎queued for: tues 3rd

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 214 cnc meaning reader: fights, bites, begs & yunho: forces, restrains, threatens, mocks. there IS one time yunho uses the word 'rape' and asks if she likes it, but the first c stands for consensual, this is just a couple roleplaying. idol yun / gf reader, mean dom yun, venting frustration through sex, hide and seek with high stakes, fingering, minimal prep, using a belt as restraint, yun REALLY likes being bit, unprotected + creampie, multiple male orgasms, churning butter (fucking after a creampie 🫠), pet names (doll, sweetie, love, angel), aftercare and domestic fluff a bit further down

➯cnc disclaimer: CONSENT IS SEXY. all parties are and always will be consenting in my stories. cnc is a way to explore power dynamics and it's attractive to many people, it does not "promote s/a", the first c is CONSENSUAL. you should only ever do it with someone who you trust. be safe and stay freaky !!

♡masterlist + tag form !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @everyonewooeverywhere @willowwyy @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+.MINORS GTFO.

ᥫ᭡

It always surprises you just how intense your boyfriend can be.

Even if you've played out this scene a million times over, your heart still thuds in your chest so roughly that you're afraid it will give away your hiding spot.

"Come out, come out~" Yunho sing-songs as he stalks through the dimly lit apartment. "C'mon, doll," he says loudly, "I'm not really mad at you. Come on out, we can talk about this like adults."

Of course he's not mad. You're both having the time of your lives with this game of cat and mouse. You always do.

The rapid beat of your heart is making your entire body hot — and the knowledge that he's going to fuck you when he finds you adds to the fire.

He gave you a five minute heads up before he got to your shared apartment, and then the game was on.

"It's just been a rough day is all," he hums as he opens up the hall closet, tutting his tongue as he faces nothing but towels and washcloths. "I could use some help de-stressing." The door to your bedroom is slightly ajar, and he kicks it open the remainder of the way lazily. "Is it so bad to want my girlfriend to help me?"

This is you helping him. Giving him the thrill, the adrenaline rush of finding you and then giving it all your might but always falling short when fighting him off. It makes him feel like he's got all the control in the world after a shitty day of being perfect for the world. He can be as nasty and mean as he wants with how he takes you, and you both love it.

"I won't even fuck you if you come out," he speaks into the silent air, "how about that? You come out now — I'll just use your throat. Is it a deal, sweetie?"

Your hand twitches at the door knob, thinking over which option you want more. You let your hand fall back to your side in the end. You're already wet with the promise of having your boyfriend inside of you.

"No?" He pouts as he looks under the bed. "You know our place is only so big, right? I'm going to find you eventually. And when I do —"

You turn the knob slowly.

"— I'm going to fuck you until you cry!"

You dash out of the bathroom as quickly as possible, making a bee line for the front door. You hear his footsteps behind you immediately.

You don't even make it out of the hallway before his arms wrap around you; pinning yours to your sides. "There you are, love~" He chuckles, pulling your back to his chest, "running away from me? Really? Has that ever worked for you before?"

"Stop it!" You yelp as he drags you towards the bedroom. "I don't want to!"

"You should've taken my offer then," he grunts as he crashes you both onto the bed, landing on top of you and catching his weight with one of his hands; the other pushing your face into the blankets. "You know I'm not a liar, sweetie. I'd have just choked you on my cock if you played nice and came out-" He shoves his knee between your thighs, pressing it against your heat, "but no."

"Please-"

"I don't want to hear it. Not another damn peep unless it's, 'yes, Yunho.' Got it?" He growls, shoving your face deeper into the mattress as he presses his knee against you harder.

You feel your heartbeat in your cunt, almost drooling at his words before you gulp.

You shake your head as much as you can under his palm, letting out a whine. "I'm not ready to take y-"

"Don't worry, love." He pats your head before he lets go, sitting up on his knees. "I'm not a monster, I'll stretch you out first." You gasp as he yanks your shorts and underwear down in one rough tug — not even bothering to remove them all the way before his hand meets your wetness.

You kick your legs, trying to push away from him when he sits on the back of your thighs and stills you. "Stay put, doll. Wouldn't want to hurt you~" He grins as you yell into the sheets, grabbing at them to cope with the sudden intrusion of two of his long fingers inside of you.

"Ahh! Slow down!" You plead as you reach back and try to grab at him. He's thrusting and curling his fingers inside to you so roughly that you can feel his pent up energy in every move. And you can feel a ball of pleasure winding up in your gut much too quickly.

He only tuts his tongue, chuckling at your attempts to get away. He can tell you're really giving it your all to please him. Because it makes it all the better that you can't get anywhere.

Putting all of your strength into your hips, trying to buck away but only succeeding in driving his fingers deeper. Your moans mixing in with your grunts of effort make his hard length pulse with want.

"You really think I'm gonna go easy on you? I told you," he grips the back of your neck with his free hand, pushing another finger into you as you groan, "I had a rough fucking day. Be good and let me fuck all my stress into you. Can't you do that for me?"

All that you can do is whine at the intense stretch of his fingers inside of you. "Please, slow down-"

"Fine." He pulls his digits out quickly, covered in your arousal. "I'm getting impatient anyway."

While he leans back to remove his belt, you manage to slide out from under him and scramble up the bed; getting caught by your ankle. He all but yanks you back to the middle of the mattress, forcing his way between your fidgeting legs as he pushes you onto your back.

"C'mon, I won't be long, sweetie." He won't be. Usually he has a pretty high stamina but watching you squirm gets him unbelievably worked up. Letting him do almost anything he pleases makes him hot in the ears. "Just need to feel you- need to fuck you."

He gathers up your wrists, wrapping his belt around them and holding both ends in one hand while the other guides his length towards you.

"Yun, wait-" Your voice gets cut off by a gasp that forces its way up your throat as he pushes into you slowly — making you feel the stretch. He pulls your arms above your head by the belt before leaning over and kissing you.

Kissing is one things you'll never fight him on. You meet his lips with just as much passion every time.

His lips slide against yours softly until he bottoms out, pulling back to look down at you. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, go," you whisper, rewarded when he starts thrusting — slowly, at first.

But in no time at all, he's pounding all of his frustration into you, moaning and groaning non-stop as you tug against the leather on your wrists; breathing heavily and gushing around him.

"Fuck, angel..." He pants from above you, pressing his chest against you and resting his head next to yours. "This tight cunt of yours loves me," his moans are deep and rich with lust, "going to fill you up so good, and you can't stop me, can you~?"

You lick your lips, biting them for a moment as you look at his shoulder; barely covered by his tank top. Thinking about something he said he wanted to explore.

His hips stutter to a stop when you lean and nip at his skin. He lifts his head quickly, meeting your eyes; dazed. "Did you just bite me?"

"It made you stop, didn't it?" The small smirk is wiped off your face as he starts fucking into you harder. Prodding at every spot inside of you that makes you see stars; makes your back arch as far as it can while crushed under his weight.

"F-uck," he moans brokenly, "nothin' is going to make me stop." He yanks the strap down his shoulder and pulls your head to him. "Bite me harder — I like it."

You glare at him for a moment, but he can see the sparkle in your eyes before you sink your teeth in roughly.

He cums. Loud moans, jaw dropped, eyes closed, messy thrusts forming a milky ring around his base as he keeps furiously rutting into you — like he'll die if he stops.

His downright needy sounds, paired with his warm release making him slide in-and-out so easily pushes you off the edge as well; trembling below him and adding to the mess between your thighs.

He doesn't stop. "Yunho!" You wail shakily, twisting and turning and getting nowhere.

"I'm st- I'm still hard, love... M'gonna cum again," his voice is just as shaky as yours, his breath is hot and short as he looks down at you, "feeling you cum around me... I'll never get over it."

You've ran out of fight after your orgasm, but that doesn't stop him from pulling your bound arms down as he sits up; using them as leverage to pull you into his never-ending thrusts as his other hand finds your cunt, looking down at the messy scene as he swipes his thumb against your clit. And again. Then he starts drawing circles on it as your hips jerk.

"Yunho!!"

"What~?" He laughs breathlessly, eyes flicking between you and your twitching heat. "You going to cum again so soon? You like it that much, doll? You like it when I rape your messy little pussy?"

Evidently, yes. Because his near babbling moans paired with his harsh thrusts and his rough thumb on your clit send your eyes back into your head, cum-slicked walls clenching down on him so tightly that he has no choice but to unload another overflowing release into you.

Cursing under his breath, he leans over you; heavy cock still buried deep in your twitching walls. Both of his hands find your face, cradling it tenderly as he kisses you lewdly. It's all tongues and spit, moans and blissful hums traded from your mouth to his and from his to yours.

You work your wrists out of his belt and wrap your arms around his neck, hugging onto him loosely.

Neither of you want to pull away but unfortunately you can't live on each other's lips, you need air — and Yunho curses that fact as he leans back.

"Do you feel better, Yun?"

He smiles serenely, rubbing your heated cheeks as he holds your face softly. "Yes," he pecks your lips one more time, "you're the perfect stress relief."

ᥫ᭡

You're laid on your side next to him, admiring his peaceful features as he massages your tender wrists with lotion.

All of the tension in his shoulders is gone, his entire body and face completely relaxed as he listens to your breathing.

"Hey," you speak up softly, "what do you think about watching that new Kissing Booth movie?"

"They made another one? Ugh..."

"Ugh? Why ugh?" You nudge his leg with yours, "you like those movies."

"No, I like making fun of them with you." He chuckles, hands sliding down to rub your arms.

"Me too~ That's why I asked, dummy," you lean and kiss him softly, "please? Let's try to predict what stupid plot twist will happen next."

"Hm... I'll get some chips."

ᥫ᭡

#stars ask and receive #request #ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic

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only-mildly-evil · 2 months ago

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tagged by @mysticretrieval :3

Put your music library on shuffle, then list the first five songs that come up in a poll to let people vote for which one they like the most!

oh damn some of these are like. really really old. i mean they're still great but. i am having flashbacks to 2020. also why are they putting so many popular tracks in here deezer you're undermining my position as a unique social outsider ///>_<///

i no-pressure tag @ibidflash and @watchingthecredits 🫶🫶

#also the sixth song was a cover of Mama by Bear Ghost which was honestly my favourite of all of these #i looooove the new covers Bear Ghost is putting out i like them as much if not in some cases more than the originals #🗡️

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devotedfem · 4 months ago

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Isn't a threat a promise? - Part I

Synopsis: Where you're an assassin hired to finish the mysterious and poweful gang of seven eccentric men, but you're oblivious of how unpunishable and untouchable they were. You were bred to kill, but they were bred to rule over the mafia. They will break little by little your mind, reminding you that not even a hired assassin can beat them.

BTS OT7 x f. Reader

4.8K words.

Genre: Mafia and hitman au | Enemies to lovers | yander-ish.

Tags and TW: Organized crime, mafia BTS, hired assassin reader, german reader, hidden identity, a lot of lies, fake identity and name, fierce and intelligent reader, really sassy and brave reader but Bangtang will slowly break her mind and turn her into a fragile mess (you've been warned), adrenaline rush, murder, typical criminal violence, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanism, they're all morally ambiguous, a lot of death, past traumas, manipulation, obsessive tendencies.

Series masterlist.

Navigation Masterlist.

Chapters: I, II, III, IV.

FIRST BULLET:

. . . . .

Your heels clicking were the only noise in the huge living room. You hummed a song walking towards the luxurious bathroom, washing the blood off your hands. You always have your nails painted red, so the blood won’t stain under them. And red looks so good on you, so it's like killing two birds with one stone.

You took your phone to make a call, fixing your hair and your maroon lipstick that was smudged on the corner of your lips.

“Yes?” Greeted the husky voice.

“Work’s done, I want my money in cash. I also want to go to Paris this weekend, so I’ll need a new passport.” You said removing your red lipstick, concealer and black eyeliner, putting some gloss on your lips instead.

You look cleaner with your face bare. Less messy, less suspicious. More innocent.

The man at the other side of the phone sighed deeply, as if he was dealing with a spoiled brat.

“Y/n, we can’t give you a new passport every fucking week. You’re too messy and too attention seeker. Learn to be more discreet and you’ll earn your little trips.” The broken English of the man made his words sound angrier.

You snorted at him. Learn to be more discreet? What would be the fun of that?

“Can you not be a boring prick for five minutes? All of my targets always get killed and the police’s incompetence never fail to be on my favor. Doesn’t it?”

You said with your also broken English. You cleaned the doorknobs with isopropyl alcohol, and burned your target’s slit neck with a lighter, to erase any kind of fingerprints. You also cleaned the bathroom sink and the floor where the corpse lay with acid.

You felt like the cleaning lady of the house, vacuuming the floor to collect hair and clothing fibers. Every detail must be taken care of.

“Y/n,” the man warned, with that tone of voice that was supposed to intimidate you, but the both of you know that it never works. “You have a new target, so move your trip to Paris to another day.”

You stopped vacuuming with a gasp.

“You’re giving me more work!? But I just finished killing this one, and he was so annoying,” you whined, looking at the corpse of the old man with disgust. That man was a sexist sexual predator and a pain in your ass.

“Oh but you’d like this one. They’re seven men, a secretive gang, pulling all the strings from the shadows. It took us years to find their whereabouts. They’re a big deal in this business.”

Business. Big deal. That took your attention very quickly.

You said nothing for a couple of seconds. He knew that you were considering it, he knew that you love challenges.

“Prize?” You asked, checking your red nails out.

“Five.”

“Five fucking what? Dollars? Hundredths?”

“Millions.”

Oh. You hummed to yourself.

“How dangerous?”

“Very dangerous. In fact, the odds of killing them are very low. You’re more likely to get killed instead of them.”

You bit your bottom lip trying to stop your mischievous smirk from curling in your lips. You tasted the sweet savor of challenge in your tongue, imagining yourself spending those 5 million on trips in Europe.

“You’re so mean, giving me such a difficult task. You’re not trying to get rid of me, aren’t you Bruderherz?” You purred, grinning like a starve wolf. You took your Birkin bag and switchblade with you, walking out of the mansion towards your sport car.

“Oh, I would never my Schwesterlein. How could I lose my golden star? You’re irreplaceable.”

“Good to know that we’re on the same page, after all, it’s going to cost you more than seven men to get rid of me,” you hummed, lighting a cigarette, driving away. “I want vacations after I finish this target by the way, long vacations.” You made him sigh again.

This is going to be so fun.

|||||||||||||||

NEW YORK STATE

LAST NAME: NOVIKOVA

FIRST NAME: ANN

COUNTRY OF BIRTH: RUSSIA

DATE OF BIRTH: 15 AUG ****

SEX: F

CARD EXPIRES: 05/08/2034

RESIDENT SINCE: 01/12/2024

You pursed your lips reading your new fake id card. He always makes you Russian, you think you can hide very well your broken English, you weren’t that obvious. But in this kind of business, it’s pretty common to see Italians and Russians, no matter how stereotypical it sounds. You were proud of your German roots, but it is in fact stupid to let people know where you came from.

Your targets were Korean, you don’t see a lot of Koreans in this business, they were ruthless. That’s why you have to be even more careful.

You can do a lot of things wrong, like wasting your money in bags and shoes (not in your rent and bills), or playing a little with your targets, testing how quick they found out they’re falling into your trap. But the one thing you prohibit yourself from is to underestimate your prey, oh boy, that’s a huge mistake. You always have in mind the possibility of them outsmarting you. So, you do a long list of 100 ways they could find out who you are, and a quick plan to solve each one of those outcomes.

You weren’t the golden star of your Bruderherz for nothing.

You pin your hair up away from your face, securing it with grips, putting on a short wig that reaches your jaw. Wearing a dark trench coat and red lipstick.

Your new identity this time is a Russian heiress of a gang located in many countries of Eastern Europe. You’re supposed to be rich, spoiled, a little dumb and ruthless. Your daddy’s money gives you all the wonders in the world, even if the money it’s stained in blood.

You’re supposed to meet the Bangtang gang to “talk” about business. Convince them to unite both gangs for their best interest. You wanted to live in New York, but you couldn’t without the protection of your daddy’s men, so you’ll give him a good deal in this city. In your opinion, it’s a good drive for your character.

Your siren’s charm this time won’t be your body. Bangtang were young and rich, used to women throwing themselves at them expecting something in return. This time you’re the one with the golden bait.

The greed for money and power is stronger than temporary lust or infatuation.

That’s what you thought, watching Bangtang’s mansion from the car, the driver leaving you in front of the huge place.

You grinned to yourself, already smelling the scent of the five millions of dollars, in cash of course.

You walked towards the entrance of the mansion with your heels clicking, your chin was up and your gaze fixated on the big doors. You weren’t surprise when three men armed to the teeth and dressed in black stopped you.

“Wait here.” One of them said rudely, making you arch a brow.

“I’m not waiting outside the doors like a fucking dog. I have a business appointment with Bangtang, so if you don’t want to end dissolved in acid, I suggest you to take me inside to them.” It was and order and a threat. Your voice didn’t quiver and your gaze was steady, burning on the man. You were dressed in expensive clothes, all of you screamed luxury and power.

Fear flashed the guard’s face for a moment, nodding at your words and leading you into the mansion.

The decoration and furniture were classic, all here screamed old money; discreet but expensive.

You stopped when the man halt in front of a mahogany door. He looked nervous for a second, but his face turned expressionless again, opening the door and bowing to the men inside of the room.

It was an office, very chic and expensive-looking. You could smell the money.

There were seven men watching you both with frowns, looking almost startled at your presence. A tall man with bulky body and nice clothes looked at you from head to toe, arching a brow and crossing his buff arms.

“Who’s this? And why is she in my office, without my permission? I gave strict orders to make any guest wait.” The man’s jaw was clenched, and his words were grunted between teeth. He looked beyond displeased by your presence.

The guard at your side flinched a little by the cold stare of the other man, clearly intimidated by his boss scold.

“I-I, I uh, i mean, she-she said it was… She looked important…”

You felt a pang of guilt and pity by looking at him, the poor guy was about to piss himself.

“I am indeed, very important. Let me introduce myself; I am Ann Novikova, heiress of the Eastern Europe biggest gang. And please, don’t be hard on the guard, although it isn’t clever to ignore your boss orders, I wasn’t very easy on him either.” You said with a charming smile and a wink towards the guard, standing tall in your spot, watching all of them in their eyes. You can’t show an ounce of insecurity.

They were wolves, but you were a panther, circling their den from the distance.

“You’re fired. Get out of my sight.” Barked the bulky guy, looking straight into your eyes while speaking.

The guard’s face fell, turning around to leave you alone in the wolves’ den.

“You have 5 minutes to explain why you think you’re important enough to come here, to our house, almost breaking in, and clearly uninvited.” Another tall man stands up from a couch, nursing himself a glass of whiskey without averting his gaze from you. He has such plump lips, but an arrogant presence.

“Hurry up!” Thundered another one when you kept silent. His hair was black, curling at the nape, he was so handsome and so fucking rude.

You blinked, clenching your fists with fire rising to your lungs. You never let anyone speak to you in such way, not without consequences. But you have to keep calm, a prize is sweeter with a good chase.

Breathe. Act. Kill. Easy Peasy.

“Important? I have the blood of one of the most powerful and ruthless men of Europe. One call to my daddy and all of you are going to literally war,” you phrased calmly, even when your words were shot to kill. “But I don’t want to. My time is too precious to waste it on war gangs just because. I came here with a proposal, one that will benefit us all.”

And there it was, the golden bait.

The room fell silent for a moment, there was a growing tension and interest.

“Tell me, why a girl like you, that came out of nowhere, that is rich and spoiled would want to make business with us of all people?”

That was a great question, one you anticipated.

“I want to give my daddy a good deal here in New York, a good reason for him to send his men to this city so I can have their protection, he’s very protective of me. You guys are very discreet and also my dad is enemy with half of American gangs, so I don’t have many options.”

There was silence again, and then a giggle from the pretty blonde boy looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“You’re doing all of this just because you want to live in New York? I mean there’s nothing special here. There are a lot of rats though, nothing you don’t have in your homeland.” He sneered, running slowly his eyes on your body from head to toe, but unlike the buff guy, the blonde’s stare glinted with interest.

“Well, what can I say, I like New York and I want to live near my new friends. I’m bored in Russia.” You shrugged, as if your answer was enough reason to convince them.

“It’s so fucking disrespectful to have a spoiled brat thinking she can waste our time.” Growled a deep voice, catching your attention. It came from a cat-eyed man with raven hair. His face was pale and his gaze burned on you, full of contempt.

At least they believe you’re just a spoiled rich girl. That’s good.

“I said I came here with a proposal that will benefit us all. Don’t you want to hear it? If so, I’ll find another gang. Time’s money.” You stand your ground, hoping they fall for your act. It will make your job easier.

Uncomfortable and deep silence surrounded the office again.

“Let the girl speak.” Said gently a man with a heart type of smile. He seemed nice, too nice. You noted to be careful around him in the future.

“Continue.” Ordered the buff man with a sigh.

You started to explain the fake but very well thought out plan. You gestured while explaining the details, pacing around the office as if it belongs to you; as if you were one of them.

But beyond your act, you were scared. Your stomach churned, your heart beat increased and your hands sweat and trembled, that’s why you hid them inside your coat’s pockets. You can’t show them fear, you can’t show them insecurity.

Predators smell fear.

The buff guy’s name was Namjoon. He stared piercingly at you while you were talking, leaning on the edge of the desk. His brows were slightly furrowed in concentration, nodding slowly to himself at your words. The drumming of his fingers on the desk made your heart beat spike.

The other tall man, named Seokjin, has his steady dark eyes fixated on you. He was straddling a chair, with a glass of whiskey in one of his hands. You tried not to look at him for too long, getting distracted by him drinking whiskey and keeping the liquor swimming in his mouth, tasting it slowly, while looking straight into your eyes.

Braced himself against the wall was the handsome boy with dark hair curling on his nape. His name was Taehyung, and he has his arms crossed defensively over his chest, glaring at you with his jaw clenched. You didn’t know why your presence pissed him off so much, he looked like a wolf on the defensive, ready to pounce and kill at any sign of danger.

You were a threat for him, that means that your acting skills aren’t that bad. Because if he knew how powerless you actually were, he would devour you whole.

Jimin, the pretty and mischievous blonde, was sitting cozily on the couch. He looked up at you through his beautiful eyelashes, smirking and tilting his head at your words. He seemed innocent and dangerous at the same time, you knew his kind very well. He’s a snake charmer.

You can’t be charmed by him, or you’ll get eat.

And the cat-eyed man named Yoongi, resembles Taehyung’s posture, although he seemed colder and calmer than the other. He was sitting on the arm chair of the couch, with his arms crossed and his deep and intense gaze studying you. He was just watching you intently, with analyzing eyes drinking in every detail of your posture and choice of words.

You have to be careful with that one, the dullness and lack of shine of his eyes tells you that he has too much experience.

Hoseok. The smiling and gentle guy that was sitting on the edge of the couch beside Jimin, stared at you with his eyes sparkling with curiosity and something else. His elbows rested on his knees, smiling every now and then but never looking away from you.

Something about him made you feel shivers, because his smile felt a little bit fake. You knew damn well that the smiley ones are the most dangerous.

And then, there was Jungkook.

It surprised you how quiet he was, sitting in the desk chair behind Namjoon’s body half hidden from your view. But you observed him in detail anyway. He was a buff guy, not as buff as Namjoon but bulky enough. He has piercings and tattoos all over his arm, dressed in baggy black clothes. He looked like a biker guy, and that didn’t take you by surprise, what you didn’t expect was to see such big doe eyes looking at you with pure innocence sparkling in them.

His eyes took your breath away, and you tried to hide it. It was so rare to find people with clean eyes in this type of business, in this type of world. Everyone has some darkness staining their eyes, but not this one. He looks kind-hearted, not faking it like Hoseok and not using it as a weapon like Jimin. He just seemed genuine.

That’s why you mentally noted to bond with him later, to find out what is he doing here. Maybe he is Bangtang’s weakness. Their Achilles heel.

You finished talking with your hands behind your back, rubbing them in anxiety and adrenaline. You felt your heart beating fast against your ribcage and your senses getting sharp as if you were fighting a dangerous predator. It was just your anxiety talking, but you knew damn well that you were playing with fire.

There was silence. Deep, uncomfortable silence.

And then Seokjin stands up from the chair, walking towards you with his squared shoulders and firm steps. You hold his gaze, not showing fear.

You got your gun hidden in your hip, ready to risk it all if you’re forced to.

He stood inches from your body, making you look up at him. His eyes dropped heavily on your lips and then back up to your eyes again, watching you intently.

“I like you. And that’s worse than my dislike. I supposed your daddy already warned you about big bad guys like us, but I’ll warn you anyway; you better not be disloyal to us, because you’ll wish to die before getting into our bad side.” He threatened lowly and fiercely, curling a lock of your hair in his finger, staring down at you like you were an insignificant bug under his shoe.

But you knew you weren’t harmless, and he knew it too despite his indifferent façade. They will have their eyes on you, watching your every move.

“Don’t worry, I’m more than used to threats,” you hummed, smiling at him and holding your head high.

Seokjin widened his eyes for a second, and then he clenched his jaw, getting out of the office without another word.

You watched Namjoon, Yoongi and Hoseok walking towards you, feeling a rush of distrust.

“You heard him loud and clear, don’t test us, and you’ll stay with all of your limbs intact. We don’t care about your daddy’s power, as long as you’re working with us, under this roof, you’ll follow our rules.” Said calmly Namjoon, with his hands in his pockets, watching your every expression.

“Guys come on, stop being so dense with the poor girl. I mean, she has more balls than all of our guards and enemies together, she came here alone looking so… strong and pretty,” Hoseok paused to drop his gaze on your body, and then he looked up at your eyes with a smile, “I must say that you took me by surprise, I like your boldness.”

“You mean audacity.” Interrupted Yoongi with his arms crossed. His cat eyes were calculating over you. “I don’t know if your little act it’s brave, stupid or suspicious, but I do know that you have a hidden intention, and it better don’t affect us, or you’ll pay the price.”

Yoongi’s voice was deep, and his gaze dull of light. He knew you were hidden something; he has the experience of a veteran written on his face. But he doesn’t know what you’re hiding exactly, so his wariness didn’t bother you too much, at least not for now.

“If I were you, I’d be unsure too. I promise that the only person I want to bother it’s my daddy, with a new penthouse on New York,” you grinned mischievous.

“God, I love her,” purred Jimin behind the three of them, devouring you with his gaze.

The four of them walked away towards the door, but Jimin stopped at your side, leaning close to your ear, as if he was about to tell you a secret.

“Be careful little bunny, I can see right through your tough girl act.” He mouthed lowly and quietly near your ear, chuckling before getting away from you, disappearing as smoke air.

You blinked, gulping your anger and fear.

Fear? You never felt fear in your life. You were ruthless, your Bruderherz teach you better than to let some gang guys get into your head. You had face worse than them.

You were alone with Taehyung and Jungkook, the latter walked towards the door but you stopped him.

“Hey, what was your name again?” You faked confusion, making Jungkook bite his inner cheek.

“Jungkook,” he said, his voice deep but quiet.

He seemed pretty shy.

“You didn’t say much while I was talking about my plan, what do you think about it?” You asked with a soft smile and gentle tone.

Jungkook stared at your smile before looking up into your eyes, something glints in them.

“I’m not sure what are your… intentions, but if my hyungs agreed to your plan, then you must worth the… risk, I guess. They know better,” he shrugged, throwing glances at the door.

“Right, can I have your number? Just in case Namjoon doesn’t pick up his phone so I can speak with one of you in an emergency.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows taken aback, closing and opening his mouth, looking unsure if it was okay to give you his phone number.

“You’re quite direct, aren’t you?” He said with a timid smile, giving you his number.

“What can I say? You look trustworthy,” you smiled triumphant.

“Let’s hope I don’t disappoint you,” he muttered before walking away, leaving you puzzled by his words.

Your gaze followed Jungkook’s body walking away, frowning by his cryptic response. Maybe you were misjudging him?

You startled when you turned around facing Taehyung’s body too close for your comfort. He was staring at you with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t let Jungkookie fool you, he’s not that innocent.” He remarked, stepping closer to you, inches from your face. You can feel the warmth of his body and his hot breath brushing your cheek.

“I think you’re too close for my like,” you said about to move away but he didn’t let you, gripping your waist with his hands and pulling you roughly against his chest. You gasped with surprise, not knowing if you should laugh at his audacity or punch him in his face.

But before you could do anything, he put his hand inside your coat, with his fingers brushing and running slowly your hips. You stayed freeze in his grip, with your heart beating wild.

His hand found your gun, taking it away and putting it in his pocket.

Your mouth was parted and your heart was pounding in your ears, you look up at him with fury. He didn’t release his grip on your waist, tightening it instead.

“Give me back my gun, and let go of me,” you warned, but your voice quivered a little, making Taehyung smirk like a wolf.

“Or what? In this house, our guests aren’t allowed to carry weapons,” his lips were too close to your face. You felt his hot breath brushing your lips.

You broke free from his grip, leaving a big space between you two.

“You don’t want to get on my bad side so quickly, Taehyung,” you said, trying to compose yourself.

“Oh, isn’t this your bad side already? I think you’re not that scary.”

His mocking words made your heart stop, you didn’t like how this conversation was going.

“No. But my daddy is, so watch your mouth,” you spat before walking away from the office, feeling Taehyung’s gaze burning on your back.

Your phone rang in your pocket, you looked at both sides before answering it.

“Y/n?” Asked your Bruderherz.

You bit a smile at the sound of his voice, finding it comforting after dealing with wolves.

“Who’s that? I’m Ann Novikova, remember?” You teased, getting out of the mansion to wait for your driver to pick you up.

You heard a laugh on the other side of the phone.

“Did you convince them?”

“Did it,” you crooned lightly, breaking a proud smile on your face.

A muffle sound took your attention from the call. You frowned watching your surrounds with your senses heightening.

“Make the driver hurry,” you ordered before hanging up the phone.

You followed the odd noise coming from behind a bush.

And then, your heart stopped and your eyes widened at the sight before you.

The fired guard lay on the floor with his neck slit, drowning in his own puddle of blood. But that didn’t disturb you, you were used to death. What you didn’t expect was the perpetrator behind the kill.

Jungkook looked at you with his face sprinkled with blood.

“I-“ you didn’t know what to say. You were taken aback.

Jungkook grinned with his nose wrinkling, resembling a bunny.

“Why you look so… surprise? Doesn’t your dad kill in front of you?” He asked with his head tilted to the side, frowning at your shocked expression.

There it was again, that glint of innocence flashing his doe eyes. But the fact that those eyes belong to a murderer, fucked up a little your mind. But it shouldn’t surprise you that much, after all, he was part of a criminal organization.

But still, it was confusing.

“No, you’re right, I am… used to death,” you said, watching the guard’s eyes lose the spark of life.

“Did I disappoint you?” Jungkook’s desperate voice startled you. He walked towards you with crazed and worried eyes, making you take some steps back.

Before you could say or do anything, Namjoon’s voice stopped Jungkook from coming closer to you.

“Jungkook, get inside. You did a good job,” he dismissed the bunny boy.

Jungkook glance between you two, looking indecisive. But he chose to follow Namjoon’s orders and leave you two alone.

“Do you need a ride?” Asked Namjoon, making you blink.

“No, my driver is on the way. Thank you though,” you said, averting your eyes towards the gates when you heard a car nearby. “And there he is, goodbye Namjoon, it was a pleasure to meet you.”

Before you could turn around to leave, he stopped you grabbing you by your arm.

“Are you sure you want to do this? You can change your mind right now, because the moment you’re out of those gates, there will be no turning back.” His eyes were intense and fixated on you, expecting an answer.

You won’t dare to say that he was worried about you, because you were a stranger to him, one that can even be considered a threat. But a tiny bit of concern did flash his gaze. Maybe because you looked like a naive woman, one that acted like a spoiled kid, not mature enough for this world and for this deal.

He didn’t know you, but you knew him well.

“I am sure, don’t worry about me,” you said smiling at him, holding his gaze.

He blinked taken aback, and then his grip on your arm tighten.

“I have this odd feeling since you came to our office, that my boys will bond with you very quickly, they already like you too much. That’s why you better not play with their trust, no tricks or games. Am I being clear?” He growled lowly, his features hardening at the thought of you betraying them.

The driver honked the car’s horn behind you, you glanced back at him and then back at Namjoon again, grinning wider.

“And you?”

Namjoon frowned at your words.

“What about me?”

“Do you trust me? Would you ever bond with me like your friends?” You asked leaning towards him, biting your bottom lip with Namjoon’s dark and heavy gaze following the movement.

He let go of your arm as if the touch of it burned his hand.

“I don’t trust you, not now and sure not ever. You can keep your performative charms to yourself when you’re with me, I won’t fall that easy.” He said lowly, like a promise, like a threat.

Excitement and adrenaline rushed to your veins. That sounded like a challenge.

“You said it; not that easy but not that impossible either, let’s see what happens Namjoonie,” you purred, turning around to walk towards the car. Feeling Namjoon’s eyes burning on your back.

You watched from the car Namjoon standing tall at the entrance of the mansion, with his hands in his pockets and the breeze moving his hair.

You recognized that glint in his eyes, he saw a challenge, he saw a threat, but also a chance to success in this business.

He bit the bait, as you planned.

But you felt something odd too, a little voice at the back of your head whispering a warning.

You’re playing with fire, says the voice, you’re not in a wolves’ den; you’re in a nest of starved python snakes.

But a catch is sweeter with a dangerous chase, isn’t it?

Taglist:

@demonshauntingthedoves @pynkgothicka @itlover8000 @monochromaticfawn @devilzliaison @11thenightwemet11 @deluluisdasolulu @shailari @queenc22x

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brockkboeserr · 1 year ago

Text

last night (blame it on the vodka)

They say drunk words are sober thoughts, so what are drunken confessions of love?

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: a pinch of angst, swearing, alcohol (and its after effects - aka a fat hangover and a twinge of regret)

word count: 3k

a/n: matthew tkachuk is a stanley cup champion!!!! you know i had to do it to ya. ps this idea was formed a million years ago (pre trade) therefore I have simply plucked Cowboys from downtown Calgary to downtown Miami deal with it. big ups to @wyattjohnston for the edit and for outsourcing my geography queries. title and inspo from the song by the same name by lucy spraggan. enjoy my loves and let me know what you think <3

You’re never drinking again.

It’s a mantra you repeat all morning, from the minute you’re dragged back into consciousness by the sound of construction down on the street, to when you finally pull from bed to dramatically slam the window shut, to the one-two-three-four times you end up with your knees on the bathroom mat and your head in the toilet.

You’re far too old to be drinking like that on a nearly empty stomach, far too old to be drinking like that regardless. Okay, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, being a mostly single twenty something year old in downtown Miami. Mostly single in that every time you drank, your painfully unrequited crush on probably the one guy in all of Florida you couldn’t pull came out with a vengeance.

Looking at your phone and all the unread texts you groan, realizing that the little girl who used to write ‘Mrs. Matty Tkachuk’ in all of her diaries came out in full force last night.

Hyping yourself up, you type out and forward the message ‘What the hell did I do last night?’ to everyone you remember being out with you. Everyone, that is, except Matty himself.

Brielle: Last night you told him you loved him

It’s not atypical for you to be out on a Friday night, a group of your closest girlfriends at your side. Neither is it uncommon for the night to begin with the three of you taking thirst traps for the ‘gram before taking shots as the Uber pulls up.

Cowboys is a favorite place, certainly not for the high class atmosphere or clientele—of which you’ll find neither. But who doesn’t love to let loose in an environment where the city boys of Miami don Stetsons and large belt buckles? And okay, maybe you’re a bit of a gambler—though, with money or love as the currency depends on the night.

Tonight you’re pressing your luck, drinking enough to dull the edge and to keep you from overreacting to Matt’s response to the aforementioned Insta story. It’s a simple message, a string of fire emojis, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t refresh the app until his username appeared as ‘Seen’ under the story.

You don’t want to think it means anything when he shows up with a couple of his boys an hour into dancing with the girls. Cowboys is a popular place, evidenced by the crowded dance floor and the complete lack of personal space. So what Brielle was wearing a cowboy hat in one of the pictures and so what everyone and their mother knew this bar was your favorite place to spend Friday nights and so what you’d even tagged the place in a boomerang of your shot glasses five minutes after arriving.

It didn’t mean anything—doesn’t mean anything.

That thought doesn’t stop you from abandoning your friends the second you see the all too familiar head of curls.

“Hi Matty,” you greet, stumbling into him and sliding your hand around his waist. He feels solid beneath your fingertips, warm and secure and everything you’ve ever wanted. His resulting grin could build and topple empires, you think.

But then reality all comes crashing down again as he slides his arm around your shoulders in turn, squeezing gently as he replies, “Hey, Kid.”

It’s the gentle reminder you’ll never be anything more than the annoying girl next door who used to follow him and Brady around like they were the greatest thing in the world.

If he notices the way you deflate, he doesn’t say a word, though his hand rubs comfortingly at your shoulder for a moment until you can’t stand it anymore and go back to your friends and their sympathetic faces.

The thing about you when you drink is the filter comes off. Normally you play your cards close to your chest, making it very hard for others to know your emotions. But a little vodka and you’re suddenly ready to face your feelings head on.

It starts off innocently enough, an over exaggerated ‘I love you!’ when he brings you a drink without you having to ask. But then Georgia is all but holding you down to prevent you from running after him and professing your love. She doesn’t succeed, what with you running into his arms midway through the night anyway.

He has that same grin on his face as you tell him how much you love him, and though he doesn’t mean it the way you do, he tells you that he loves you too just the same.

Though you haven’t eaten in at least twelve hours, the thought of food makes your already upset stomach turn some more, and so you settle for making a cup of tea to get some fluids back in you.

Not quite ready to face the music in terms of what your alcohol fueled self did last night, you ignore the unread messages to flip through some Insta stories. There’s cute pics and videos of you and your girls, you screen shot your favorites and tap away until you pause on a boomerang of Georgia and Brielle. It’s cute enough if you ignore the small stain by Bri’s collar where she’d lost some of the second tequila shot. Oh, and you looking up at Matthew with the most pathetic lovesick look on your face in the background.

It unsettles your stomach further, and so you abandon all plans of tea—turning off your kettle and grabbing the water bottle you’d prepped for yourself before you left last night and taking up residence on the couch.

Putting on a random movie from your childhood on Disney+, you lay back and cover yourself with your favorite quilt. Another wave of nausea washes over you, and so you prop yourself up with a few extra pillows and fall asleep sitting up.

It mustn’t be more than half an hour of uninterrupted sleep before you’re pulled out of it by the incessant buzzing of your phone. It’s a set of four pictures of you on Matt’s lap and another incriminating tidbit from the night before.

Georgia: Last night you told him you need him

“Shut up Sammy,” you glare, angrily poking his chest with your index finger. You’re grateful for the uncharacteristic change in nail shape at your last manicure, the stiletto tip serving as a makeshift weapon that actually makes him wince before laughing in your face.

Truthfully, you’re not sure how the night got to this point—you and your girls hanging around a table with Matty and his boys. You’re not complaining though, not with how your bare legs pressed to Matty’s jeans or how his arm rests above your shoulders, fingertips brushing your skin now and then.

Matt can spot a fight coming from a mile away, well versed in the language that is your rage from the countless years he was the source of it, pulling on your pigtails and breaking your barbies.

“That’s not my name,” Sam rolls his eyes, rubbing his chest and stealing a swig of your beer. “Lightweight.”

He’s referring to your drunken state and the fact that Matt himself had to drag you to the table with the promise of a Bud Light if, and only if, you drank an entire glass of water. Narrowing your eyes, you begin to lunge at him again, stopped only by the force of Matt pulling you onto his lap and wrapping an arm around your waist, one hand resting on your stomach and the other on your bare knee.

The effects of being wrapped up in him are almost instantaneous. Your rage quickly simmers, your body relaxes and you all but sink into the embrace. You quiet then, content to let the rest of the table do the talking for the moment while you memorize the feel of his arms.

It’s a nervous habit to fiddle with the small charm around your neck, something you do unconsciously, not even noticing until it’s somehow come undone in your grasp.

“Matty, I need you,” you whisper against the side of his face, watching his eyes darken and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. He opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt with your fist coming at his face with your necklace clenched tightly within.

He visibly relaxes, motioning for you to lean forward and swiping your hair to the side.You grab the strands of your hair after he takes the necklace from you, shivering as his cold hands drag across your skin.

Georgia is shaking her head at you from across the table, having clearly read your lips and witnessed the little moment. You just smile and shrug at her before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin of Matt’s jaw. “Thank you.”

You’re pretty sure you’re dying. By the grace of some higher power, you haven’t seen the inside of your bathroom in a hot minute. Yes, you’ve finally moved past stage one of your hangover, however you’re not out of the woods yet. You’re dying a slow death on the couch—feeling yourself dip more and more into dangerous dehydration levels despite the giant water bottle on your coffee table that had been a gag gift from Matt last Christmas.

Truthfully, the room is still a little spinny and your stomach still a little unsettled, but perhaps the worst of it all is the splitting headache and the sore throat. Both ailments make sense, you’re a yeller when you drink and you’re certain last night was no exception—even if the memories are slow to return to you.

It’s not aggression, not really. It’s more that your body can’t contain all the emotions that you so carefully hide in your day to day life, and without the control that sobriety brings, you’re wont to let them all spill out.

And really, you can’t linger on the what ifs too long, so you settle back in for another nap as an attempt to sleep off the symptoms of your poorly thought out night out with another movie playing as background noise.

Elizabeth has just rejected Darcy when your phone lights up three times.

sam: let’s just say you’re screwed if you ever wake up in vegas

you: fuck off sammy

sam: still not my name, lightweight

sam: at least I didn’t propose last night

“You know, Sammy,” you slur, no longer angry but keeping up the nickname in hopes that the table will think you are and Matty will let you stay in his arms. “You’re very lucky Liz agreed to marry you because other than the hockey thing you really have no redeeming qualities.”

“At least someone wanted to marry me,” he retorts not unkindly.

“Matty would marry me,” you state confidently, tilting your head back to look up at the man beneath you. “Wouldn’t you, Matty?”

“Gonna have to get down on one knee, Kid,” Matty laughs, shaking your body slightly from where it leans against him. The dopiest smile crosses your face at the sound and you know you’re being far too obvious but you can’t help it. Matty laughing is your favorite sound, and happiness looks so good on him. There’s nothing you hate more than seeing him sad or upset. Nothing except dirty, sticky bar floors, which makes your next actions even more comical.

Pulling from his arms for the first time in what feels like an eternity—not that you were complaining—you jump from the table and dramatically flop down to one knee.

“Matthew—M-Matty,” you hiccup, keenly aware of the dozens of eyes on you and yet utterly uncaring of any of them except the icy blue you stare into now. “You’re my b-best friend. Marry me?”

The look he gives you is fond if frigid, not at all the passionate love declaration you were hoping for. Pouting deeply, you don’t move to pull up from the floor. “Is that a no?”

“It’s a ‘not right now’,” he answers, getting up himself and pulling you up by your armpits. You wrap around him like a vine, not even protesting as he leads you to the bar to grab another glass of water and some appetizers for the table.

God, you really regret asking about last night. Maybe it was better to live in beautiful, blissful ignorance — if you never remembered all the embarrassing behavior did it really happen?

Unfortunately your vibrating phone simply refuses to let that happen.

brielle: and you totally ate shit on the pavement leaving the bar last night

That certainly explains the dull ache of your biceps, having caught the weight of you alongside breaking your fall. Luckily that appears to be the extent of the damage, given you can wiggle all of your fingers and toes and no other part of your body stings.

Just your ego is bruised.

“Why would we go home?” you ask, gesturing wildly at the emptying bar around you as though it were still the hopping venue of an hour ago.

“Cause the bar staff would like to go home too,” Brielle explains kindly.

“So we go to the next bar? I’m sure there’s somewhere still open, it’s only midnight!”

Matty’s arm is heavy and warm and secure as it wraps around your shoulder to guide you to the exit. “I’ve already called us an Uber.”

You preen at the mention of an ‘us’ between you and Matt, suddenly docile and calm, allowing him to guide you outside.

Far too preoccupied with the weight of him, you miss the broken piece of sidewalk and subsequently toe pick the crack, ending up face down on the pavement.

Matt is quick, pulling you to your feet with ease and examining your face and upper body for damage. “You alright?”

“If I say no, will you kiss it better?” you crack back, only half joking.

Shaking his head at your antics, he guides you into the waiting car before sliding in beside you.

You’re quite content to lean your head on his shoulder the whole drive home, arm curled around his before letting him lead you to your bed.

A joke about inviting him into your bed doesn’t leave your lips, momentarily mesmerized by the gentle way he tucks you in, the soft press of his lips to your forehead.

Could it possibly get worse, you wonder.

Matty: let me up?

He’s got a key for emergencies, and although you usually appreciate that he doesn’t misuse it, in this case you almost wish he would let himself in.

It would give you some extra time to compose yourself and—to be quite honest—you do yet harbor a little fear that getting vertical might have you running for the bathroom once again.

Neither of those things happen—he doesn’t let himself in and you don’t throw up on your way to the door. You make quick work of the lock before opening the door to reveal Matthew looking as well rested as you’ve ever seen him.

The contrast between the two of you is likely a stark difference, but his face doesn’t give anything away if he’s thinking it too.

His first words to you are simple, full of care and compassion. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got hit by a bus that then backed right over me again,” you answer truthfully.

His responding giggle makes your insides feel warm and you can only hope you don’t have the tell tale lovesick look on your face. There’s a moment of quiet contemplation—his chest visibly puffs up and then deflates as he takes a steeling breath.

“You said some things last night,” he says and you feel your blood run ice cold in your veins.

You attempt to deflect. “I say a lot of things, Matty. Especially when I’ve gotten into the Tito’s.”

He shakes his head and takes a step towards you. “Last night you said you loved me.”

“Of course I love you, you’re my best friend.” It’s not a lie, not completely anyway. You love him. He’s your best friend. So what if that love you have for him is something a little bit more than friendship?

He shakes his head again, little ringlets of curls shaking with the motion. “Didn’t sound friendly. You said you needed me.” His voice is rough, tone something heavy.

“To fix my necklace, Matty. What are you doing?” Your voice in response is a little wild—short clipped sentences spoken in quick succession.

He appears frustrated. Not necessarily at you, you don’t think, but it’s clear on his face. “That’s not—You said you wanted to marry me, got down on one knee even.

“I was drunk, it’s not that deep.”

He takes the remaining steps toward you, crowding your space and boxing you in with his arms. Yet you know with one word he would back off if you asked.

You don’t ask.

“But what if it is? What if I said that I love you too, that I need you too? That the only person who I’ve ever thought about marrying was you?”

“Matty, what are you doing?” you ask lowly, heart pounding so loud you fear he might hear it.

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” he murmurs and leans in until your lips barely touch.

It's the invitation you feel you’ve waited a lifetime for. No amount of doubt or hesitation or uncertainty is going to stop you from wrapping yourself around him and deepening the kiss.

It’s soft and sweet—two decades of buildup, of a beautiful friendship turned something more. It’s you and Matty the way it was always supposed to be—the way it was always going to end up.

#nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk x reader #shelb writes

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stone-stars · 10 months ago

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songs in c3e66: wavemother (timestamps from the ad-free version. does not include the generic combat music. “a wizard’s tournament” is the recap song.)

Henry Hogfish - 7:34

Sea Beast - 9:41

Henry's House - 15:36 and 18:28

Ode to the Archipelago - 21:07 and 22:10

A Fairy Remembers - 26:33

Irondeep - 33:30 and 35:15

All I Need is One Thread to Spin a Web - 38:26

string chords - 41:38

Tsunare - 43:04 and 48:03

The Inkling Syndicate - 53:08, 54:23, and 55:08

The Hexblood Centurions - 56:28

Tsunare - 59:59

Henry Hogfish - 1:04:15

Frankie Vantasmo - 1:08:40

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:10:17

Dopplegangers - 1:13:39 and 1:15:53

Rousel - 1:17:52

Gunvar - 1:18:47

Frankie Vantasmo - 1:20:48

The Multiverse - 1:22:21

Tsunare - 1:25:25

Henry's House - 1:26:35

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:31:24 and 1:31:57

The Inkling Syndicate - 1:33:05

Frankie Vantasmo - 1:36:08

The Fairy - 1:36:49

Rousel - 1:41:27

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:42:56

Haunting Visages - 1:44:58

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:52:09

A Friend for Life - 1:54:50

The Prodigal Sister - 1:58:34

All I Need is One Thread to Spin a Web - 1:58:58

context for each song + notes under the cut!

Henry Hogfish - 7:34 - Zunark pulls out a bag of treasure

Sea Beast - 9:41 - Callie examines the treasure for things she recognizes (finds the lance with wave symbol)

Henry's House - 15:36 - Sol finds magic items for Kenna

Henry's House - 18:28 - Raiding the captain's mini bar

Ode to the Archipelago - 21:07 - Lazlow takes them towards the Archipelago

Ode to the Archipelago - 22:10 - Zunark explains how he and Lazlow met

A Fairy Remembers - 26:33 - Callie tells Zunark what her vision for the Feywild is

Irondeep - 33:30 and 35:15 - Reading the plans for the summit

All I Need is One Thread to Spin a Web - 38:26 - Discussing Jovyre's plan + Cyra's static fate

string chords - 41:38 - Seeing destroyed triton vehicles in the water

Tsunare - 43:04 - Merfolk knights on shark-back arrive (Sir Brinesplooge)

Tsunare - 48:03 - Descending into Akoralil's throne room

The Inkling Syndicate - 53:08 - Duck Team asks Akoralil for help / to make a deal with them

The Inkling Syndicate - 54:23 and 55:08 - Talking to and negotiating with Akoralil

The Hexblood Centurions - 56:28 - Akoralil shows them Bearlane leading automatons + Charbin marching w/ his army

Tsunare - 59:59 - Akoralil agrees to sleep on their suggestions

Henry Hogfish - 1:04:15 - Sir Brinesplooge takes them to their room / Trying to sus out which clam is a toilet

Frankie Vantasmo - 1:08:40 - Taking about Akoralil's plans and demands

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:10:17 - Wandering around and investigating Akoralil's past and the way her people regard her

Dopplegangers - 1:13:39 - "Worst case scenario" discussion (if they'll need to turn on Akoralil)

Dopplegangers - 1:15:53 - Talking to a random knight about if the sea can stay the same size

Rousel - 1:17:52 - Discussing Gunk becoming a knight of Akoralil

Gunvar - 1:18:47 - Triss 2 connects w/ the second Brinesplooge

Frankie Vantasmo - 1:20:48 - Discussing if they can ask Akoralil about Cyra

The Multiverse - 1:22:21 - Meditating (rolls) to recharge Galactic Swag divination

Tsunare - 1:25:25 - Akoralil heals Lazlow

Henry's House - 1:26:35 - Looking for a kitchen / discussing their demands

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:31:24 and 1:31:57 - Meeting w/ Akoralil to make their demands of each other

The Inkling Syndicate - 1:33:05 - Talking about High Ember Lord Charbin

Frankie Vantasmo - 1:36:08 - Continuing to negotiate with Akoralil

The Fairy - 1:36:49 - Callie lays out Duck Team's demands to Akoralil

Rousel - 1:41:27 - Letter to Gunk to drop out and come join them

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:42:56 - Akoralil tells them Cyra disappeared

Haunting Visages - 1:44:58 - Scrying on Cyra sitting alone in the Shadowfell

In the Dark of Dusk - 1:52:09 - Talking about leaving Zunark + Triss 2 behind

A Friend for Life - 1:54:50 - Triss 2 hugs Callie + says goodbye

The Prodigal Sister - 1:58:34 - Calder comforts Callie about facing Cyra / Callie hugs him

All I Need is One Thread to Spin a Web - 1:58:58 - Planeshift to Shadowfell

Notes: string chords at 41:38 appear to be royalty free (repeatedly used in episodes without credits) / "The Widow" is listed in the credits but is not used Different credits: "In the Dark of Dusk" is credited as "In the Dark of Dawn" / "The Inkling Syndicate" is credited as "The Entertainment District" Not listed in credits: Gunvar, The Multiverse New song: Ode to the Archipelago

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joelalorian · 1 year ago

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Fall Into Me - Chapter Six: And I Knew My Heart Wasn't Mine

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling in love. Finally some smut-ish stuff. Dry humping on the couch. Joel is his own warning. Tommy keeping it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

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Chapter Five | Main Masterlist

Sitting at the kitchen table on Sunday morning, you reviewed an email on your phone from the Texas Education Agency. Relief washed over you. The State Board finally approved your certification after jumping through a million hoops, just in time for your upcoming meeting at Sarah’s school.

Yet another step closer to finally feeling like an actual adult contributing to society.

“Morning, Spud,” your dad greeted as he walked into the kitchen in search of his morning coffee. “You’re up early. Did you have fun with Sarah yesterday?”

“I figured I’d seize the day and all that. I had a blast yesterday! Sarah is so smart, and Joel was really nice, as always,” you replied, playing down quite how much of a roll Joel had in making the day so enjoyable. You still couldn’t believe how things worked out.

Joel Miller, dead sexy single father, liked you, wanted to be with you. Little morsels of doubt tried to weasel their way into your mind, trying to make you question what was so special about you that a man like Joel would be interested in. You shook those thoughts away, resolving to believe that you deserved someone like him, someone who liked you for who you were and not who they wanted you to be.

“He comes from good stock, that Joel,” your dad interrupted you’re wandering thoughts. “Not sure what happened with Tommy, though. Musta been dropped on his head as a baby or somethin’.”

“Dad!” you laughed, shaking your head. “There’s nothing wrong with the guy. He’s young, single, and unburdened by responsibility. I imagine you were like that once upon a time.”

“Musta been so long ago I can’t remember,” he replied, hip checking you into the counter when you stood to place your glass in the sink. “Watch yourself there, Spud.”

“Jeez, thanks, Dad,” you replied with an amused eye roll. Your dad watched as you tidied up your little mess from breakfast and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“You know, Spud. You’d do well to find a man like Joel. He’s a really good guy. Shame he doesn’t date. All the women go crazy over him.”

Your dad kept going on about Joel’s aversion to dating, but your mind froze on that one simple statement – you’d do well to find a man like Joel. You tuned back in just in time to hear him say, “He needs to settle down with a girl like you. Someone smart and responsible who’ll still give him a run for his money.”

Practically bursting with the urge to admit that you and Joel just officially started seeing each other, you curled your lips between your teeth and just nodded. You promised Joel you’d wait a bit before mentioning anything to your dad and you planned on keeping that promise. “He should be so lucky to find someone like me,” you sassed finally.

The day carried on as you spent some quality time with your dad watching TV and lounging around. It was refreshing and relaxing, reminding you of times past where the two of you spent a bunch of time together.

The urge to text you plagued Joel all day Sunday, distracting his attention from the football game until Tommy finally snatched the phone out of his hands and hid it.

“Enough, brother. You’re like a lovesick fool checking your phone every five fuckin’ seconds. You just spent the day together yesterday. Give her a little breathin’ room,” Tommy chastised. “Women like a little mystery after all.”

Flopping back into the couch cushions with a huff, Joel crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t want to play games with her, Tommy. None of that aloof, hard to get bullshit.”

Shaking his head, Tommy waited until a commercial break to turn to his brother again. “I’m not sayin’ to play games. I’m just sayin’ you don’t need to be up her ass 24/7. You’ll see her every day this week. It’s ok to build up a little healthy anticipation today.”

Joel knew his brother had a point. He just couldn’t help himself. It’d been so long since he felt like this about someone – if he ever really did before – and it was messing with his head. Berating himself for not even kissing you yesterday, Joel wanted to at least text with you today. It felt somehow wrong to not talk to you.

Then again, you hadn’t texted him either.

Tommy made a valiant effort to distract Joel from his thoughts, talking statistics about the game and the players, anything to get the guy talking. It only worked for so long before Tommy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright, how ‘bout this. I’ll take Sarah for a dinner and ice cream date tomorrow so you two can spend some time alone. Get a little action in and maybe that’ll help you get your head out of the clouds.”

For the first time in hours, Joel’s face lit up. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise,” Tommy replied. “You two need to figure out if there’s something there and you can’t do that with a ten-year-old hanging around all the time. Not unless you want to scar her for life.”

Joel nodded, reaching out to take his phone back. Before letting go of it, Tommy grinned. “I already texted her for you. You’re welcome.”

Ripping his phone out of his brother’s hand, Joel scrolled through his text messages to find what Tommy sent you.

JM: Hey sweetheart. Netflix and chill tomorrow?

He only knew what that meant because of Tommy and you had to know that wasn’t something Joel would say. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tommy!” Joel growled, his ears turning red from what you must think. He was about to really lay into his brother for overstepping when you responded.

You: Netflix and chill, huh? Sounds like my kinda date 😉

Not expecting that response, Joel chuckled. Maybe Tommy knew exactly what he was doing after all.

“Like I said, you’re welcome,” Tommy teased when he saw the goofy smile on his brother’s face.

Joel ignored him, proceeding to ask you about your day. The two of you texted back and forth well into the night until it was time for bed.

Climbing between the cold sheets of his large, empty bed, Joel wished you were there with him. He could already imagine you there, falling asleep together after a romp or two, waking up next to you in the morning. It sounded like heaven to him.

Hmm, maybe he could Netflix and chill his way to convincing you to spend the night tomorrow.

You didn’t know what to expect when you walked into Joel’s house Monday morning, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered Joel, knelt on the floor, staring down at a mess of pancake mix surrounding him and Sarah giggling her little heart out at the breakfast table.

“What happened here?” you asked, hands on your hips and eyes surveying the damage. “Did you have a fight with the boxed pancake mix.”

“He really did!” Sarah exclaimed, still laughing. “It went everywhere!”

“I see that,” you replied, grinning at her before turning back to Joel.

He stared up at you with wide, sad eyes and shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t get it open and then it just…” His arms spread wide, gesturing at the powdery mess on the tile in such an endearing way. You couldn’t stop your smile from growing wider.

“Go finish getting ready for work. I’ll get Sarah some cereal and clean this mess up,” you directed, gently pulling him to his feet and around the mess.

“You shouldn’t have to clean up my mess, sweetheart,” Joel replied, pulling you in for a hug. You could tell the warm press of your bodies together made him feel better and you basked in it as well, not minding the bit of pancake mix that transferred to your clothes.

“Don’t worry, I got it. Now git!” One hand swatted at his ass playfully as he rushed out of the room. “Now, what kind of cereal do you want, nugget?”

Fifteen minutes later, Joel returned to find the mess gone and you running a mop over the tile to wipe away any last remnants of the pancake mix disaster. Sarah already finished her cereal and was upstairs brushing her teeth before it was time to head to school. When you put the mop back into the bucket, Joel crept up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled you close until your back was flush against his chest.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he breathed in your ear, sending a flood of goosebumps down your arms. Joel pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear and left a trail of kisses down your neck. The feel of his lips on your skin exceeded any expectations you had, and a contented sigh left your own lips.

With a hurried tenderness, he spun you around in his arms, the mop forgotten as it nearly fell out of the bucket. Faces close together now, your eyes drank in every detail of him from the richness of his dark brown eyes, the curve of his nose, the purposeful stubble of his beard, and, finally, to the fullness of his bottom lip. You could feel his eyes doing the same, drinking in every bit of your face before tilting his head impossibly closer.

“I’m going to kiss you now, ok?” Joel murmured; lips nearly pressed to yours already and you hummed in approval.

After all the weeks of mutual pining and self-doubt, Joel finally kissed you. It started as a soft press of lips and quickly morphed into an overwhelming need to devour each other when his tongue teased along the seam of your lips, begging entry to deepen the kiss. Teeth knocked together and tongues tangled as you tasted each other – somehow, the taste of coffee was suddenly appealing when it came from Joel’s mouth.

Hands wandered – his over your curves and yours into his luscious, dark curls. Joel’s hair felt as silky as it looked, and you had been itching to get your fingers in it from the moment you met him.

The sound of Sarah’s footsteps bouncing down the stairs broke the two of you apart, breathless, and dazed.

“Wow,” Joel murmured, struggling to remove his hands from your waist.

You smiled up at him, equally unwilling to remove your fingers from his hair. “Exactly,” you whispered, stepping back with your hands at your side just as Sarah entered the kitchen.

“I’m ready!” she declared excitedly and you both grinned at her cuteness.

“Okay, nugget. Let’s head out.”

Heart melting in your chest, you watched Joel and Sarah do their morning routine of saying goodbye. The love between the two of them was so strong it was like a tangible thing you could hold in your hands. Nostalgia washed over you as memories of your own childhood, moments like this with your dad, flooded your mind. What you had with your dad, what Joel and Sarah had together, was a connection that would never fade, only grow stronger with time.

Briefly, you wondered if your evolving relationship with Joel would affect that connection, interfere with it in anyway. You couldn’t move forward with him if that was the case. Some woman showing up and changing the dynamic between you and your dad would have upset you as a child and you refused to be the cause of any upset Sarah felt.

When the two of them stepped back from their hug and grinned at you, any question about your place in their dynamic washed down the drain. You felt nearly dizzy with relief when Sarah quickly said, “Give her a hug, too, Daddy,” and shoved him as hard as she could in your direction.

With a chuckle, Joel gave in to Sarah’s demand, wrapping his arms around you. The broadness of him surrounded you, enveloping you in warmth and a sense of security you’d not experienced before. Was that what love felt like?

“Have a good day, darlin’. I’ll see you later,” Joel’s deep voice was but a whisper in your ear, his lips just grazing your earlobe. “I’m looking forward to tonight.”

Warmth raced up your neck to your cheeks and you squeezed your thighs together in anticipation of what you hoped would happen later. “You have a good day too, Joel. Be careful, ok?”

“Always, darlin’.” He winked as you led Sarah out the front door to your car.

The journey to Sarah’s school started off quietly, Sarah bopping along to the music on the radio as you navigated the morning traffic. Your thoughts wandered to what you should wear later when Sarah startled you with a sudden question.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend now?”

She asked the question so nonchalantly that you weren’t sure how to respond. Would she be upset with whatever answer you gave? Was there even a right or wrong answer? What did she want to hear? Mind racing, you settled on asking Sarah a question in return.

“Would you be upset if I was?”

Tilting her head side to side a few times, the little girl contemplated her answer while you held your breath. She turned to you with a smile so big it scrunched up her nose. “Nope! It’d make me really happy.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline.

“Uh huh. You’re the coolest and prettiest. My dad would be lucky if you were his girlfriend,” Sarah admitted with all the confidence and knowledge of a ten-year-old. Another head tilt and she added, “So, are you?”

Equal parts amazed and grateful for Sarah’s acceptance of the idea, you opted for honesty. “I mean, I don’t know,” you shrugged. How could you explain what you had to a 10-year-old? “We haven’t talked about naming it yet, but we did decide to see how we like being together. Does that make sense?”

Sarah gave it a moment of thought. “Yeah, I think so. It’s kinda like how you’re a teacher, but not officially until you get the job, right?”

You laughed at the comparison with a nod. “Exactly. I’m as good as your dad’s girlfriend, we just haven’t made titles official yet.” You pulled up in front of the school and it was Sarah’s turn to get out. “Now get going, nugget. Have a good day!”

The little girl bounced out of the car, calling out to one of her friends. Just before you pulled away, you heard Sarah tell the other girl that you were her dad’s not-yet girlfriend.

The day absolutely dragged. Joel could swear that time went backwards every time he looked at a clock. It didn’t help that every single subcontractor gave him a hard time about something today.

The roof trusses arrived six weeks early and the sub refused to take them back even though the damn things would rot before they got to the roofing phase of construction. The company he rented the extra backhoe from wanted to raise their rates in the middle of his contract. The list went on and Joel ran out of patience three hours ago.

The only thing holding him together was the thought of you. Spending time with you. Kissing you. Touching you. Burying himself inside you… He adjusted himself with a sigh. Damn, he needed to put those particular thoughts on ice before he got himself riled up. The workday was shitty enough, he didn’t need the guys giving him a hard time about an untimely chub in his pants.

Finally, Joel had enough of everyone’s bullshit and called it a day, leaving his foreman in charge of the worksite.

“Off to doll yourself up, are ya?” Tommy teased as Joel headed for his truck. Gesturing in the general direction of Joel’s crotch, he added, “You remember how to use that thing? Make sure to clear out the cobwebs and use protection!”

“Jesus, Tommy,” Joel grumbled, climbing into his truck, and driving off. He knew his brother was only teasing, but Joel was nervous enough as it was. He didn’t need Tommy getting in his head. He did have a point about protection, though.

A quick stop at the convenience store to grab a box of condoms, Joel made it home before you and Sarah. Putting on some 90s rock, he jumped in the shower, putting in the extra effort to tidy himself up down there. He wondered if you preferred pubic hair or not. Fearing he was getting way ahead of himself, Joel opted to just trim his down and hoped for the best.

By the time he finished trimming his facial hair and tousling his curls, you and Sarah were downstairs, working on her homework. As he walked down the stairs, Joel could hear you encouraging his daughter to think the questions through and congratulating her when she got the answers right. His heart grew three sizes watching how you were with Sarah. You held his whole world in the palm of your hand and treasured it like the precious cargo it was.

Joel was falling so hard for you. You were quickly gaining the power to destroy him.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called out when she spotted him in the doorway. “We just finished my math homework. Can I play in the backyard?”

He set up a tire swing on the large live oak out back a week ago and it quickly became his little girl’s happy place. “Of course, nugget. Come give your old man a hug first.” Bending down, Joel swept Sarah up in his arms, biceps stretching his shirt sleeves as he swung her around in a circle. Sarah’s laughter echoed through the room, and you smiled sweetly at the pair of them.

“Uncle Tommy’s coming to take you out for dinner and ice cream in a bit. Ok?” Sarah nodded when he settled her back on her feet and raced for the sliding door. Once she was out of sight and earshot, Joel turned to you. “Come ‘ere, darlin’,” he said, voice deep and velvety.

Your body followed his command without conscious thought, so great the need to be in his arms. “I thought about you all day,” you admitted, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Me, too. Could hardly focus on the job thinking about you and spending this evening together.” He tightened his arms around you, head bending to seal his lips to yours. When your lips parted at his prompting, Joel teased your plush bottom lip with his teeth. “It’s like a tasty little gummy worm,” he teased. “I could nibble on it all day.”

You moaned into his mouth, the little breathless sound music to his ears.

The kiss deepened until you were licking into each other’s mouths, hands wandering and grasping for purchase on any piece of real estate you could reach. Neither of you heard the front door open or the footsteps approaching the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” he asked cheekily as the two of you sprang apart, disheveled and gasping for breath.

Joel ran a hand down his face, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself. “Excellent timing as always, brother.”

“Y’all just couldn’t wait five more minutes, could ya?” Tommy’s grin a mile wide as he teased. “Lemme get the nugget out of here before you two scar her for life.”

You tucked your face into Joel’s shoulder bashfully when Tommy slipped through the sliding door. Joel groaned and wrapped his arms around you. “Don’t mind him, darlin’. He just likes to bust my balls.”

Ten minutes later, after some hugs from Sarah and more teasing from Tommy, you and Joel were alone. Taking your hand, he led you to the couch. He hoped you didn’t notice that his rough palms were sweaty with nerves. You were abnormally quiet, and he wondered if you were nervous as well.

Seated a few inches apart, the tension became too much. “What are you in the mood for?” Joel asked, breaking the silence as he pulled up Netflix on the TV. He barely logged into his account when you suddenly straddled his lap.

“Hi,” you said when he stared at you in surprise. “You know what I’m in the mood for?”

“What?” He barely got his mouth to form the word, his brain short circuiting with you in his lap. His grip on the remote loosened, yet neither of you cared when it fell to the ground.

“You.”

There was a moment where you both froze, each waiting for the other to act first. Then the tension snapped, and Joel’s lips crashed against yours. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened them to let him in. Tongues tangled in a never-ending dance as your hips tilted, grinding down on him. Joel was uncomfortably hard in moments, pressing up against your warmth.

His hands were everywhere, fingers tenderly tracing the structure of your cheekbones, down the curve of your neck, along the swell of your breasts. They finally settled, grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you impossibly closer. You moaned into his mouth, hips bucking in search of more friction.

Gasping for breath, Joel tore his mouth from yours, his hands urging your hips into a rhythm as you dry humped him. His mouth left a trail of scorching kisses down your neck, eliciting a wave of goosebumps to flow down your arms. Your hips rocked, gliding across his hardened length and Joel swore he could feel your wetness breaching through the layer of clothes separating you.

Fuck, how he wanted to taste you, get high on your sweet nectar. He knew, just knew in that primal way, that yours would be the best pussy he ever tasted. His cock swelled impossibly harder at the mere thought of burying his face between your legs.

“Jooooeeelllll.” His name coming from your luscious lips in a drawn-out moan caused his own hips to buck up into you, hitting just the right spot to make you both see stars from the friction alone. His mouth sucked little marks into your neck, leaving his left ear exposed to your mouth as crooned, “I’m gonna come, fuck. You’re gonna make me come in my panties, Joel.”

“Fuck, darlin’. Come all over me, pretty girl. I want to see you fall apart from grinding on me like this. Drench those panties.” Joel sat back a little, just enough to watch your face as your orgasm swept over you. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, eyes rolled back in your head, mouth hanging open in a silent ‘o’ as you trembled above him, delicate hands clenching the meat of his shoulders for balance. A little sheen of sweat dusted your hairline. Fucking beautiful.

Joel was absolutely certain he could feel you drenching his pants as you came, your breath finally coming back in a sharp exhale. He had never been so turned on in his life. Watching you come apart for him, feeling it seep through the layers of clothing became too much. For the first time in his adult life, Joel Miller came in his pants with a desperate whimper.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981 @marirxse

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 11 months ago

Text

Hope, somewhere

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, August 2024 edition

Prompt: plug, 437 words

Rated: G

Tags: Future fic; Post Vecna; Everybody lives; Single dad Steve; Rock star Eddie; Exes Steddie; Reunions; Second chances; Hopeful ending

Steve shouldn't have come.

He tried to refuse. The concert would run way too late, on a weekday, and couldn't they just see the Backstreet Boys?

Leah rolled her eyes, the image of himself at fifteen, brandishing the tickets she won. “Live and unplugged, Dad. With a meet and greet after. He's one of the greatest musicians of our time, and this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dad, please, we have to!”

It'll be fine, Steve thinks, standing in the front row with his quivering daughter. The meet and greet will take five minutes at most, and he looks nothing like he used to. He is closer to forty than to thirty. His hair isn't anywhere near as full. He has grown softer around the middle, and his glasses have become a permanent feature. There's years between the boys they once were. Years and miles and dozens of lovers, for one of them at least. It'll be fine.

And then the lights dim and the crowd explodes. Eddie walks onto the stage, looking just as beautiful as eighteen years ago. Their gazes lock. Those dark eyes go wide. And suddenly the years and miles drop away and it's just the two of them in the room.

“Hey, Indie,” Eddie says into the microphone, unslinging his acoustic from his back. His voice carries all across the hall. His eyes never leave Steve’s. “Good to see you. This is one I've been saving for a special occasion.”

His fingers find the strings and he sings. And Steve is nineteen once more and nothing will ever be fine again.

“Where's the other five?”

Steve blinks. The hall is empty. They're standing by the side of the stage, watching an ecstatic Leah strum away on Eddie’s guitar.

“Huh?”

Eddie grins, lopsided and dimpled. Devastatingly familiar.

“Nuggets. You wanted six.”

Steve sighs, watching his daughter fumble a chord and scowl.

“Only her. We tried for a sibling, briefly, but- ... Just as well, probably.”

Eddie fiddles with his hair. “So her mom … You're not-?”

Steve shakes his head. “Broke up when Leah was three. It's hard with people who aren't- ... who weren't there.”

Eddie hums and they lapse into silence.

“I liked the song,” Steve says at length. “The new one? It was so raw, so full of regret, but the way you sang it? I dunno, there was hope there, somewhere.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says. “Been waiting for the right opportunity to sing it for a long time.”

They part with a million unspoken words between them, but tucked into Steve’s pocket is a number. A number, and hope.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie brainrot #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficaugust #hype's microfics

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manlikeazi · 1 month ago

Text

Hear Me Out - Aj Shabeel

Summary: A late-night tiktok scroll turns into viral chaos when you post a cringe-worthy “Hear Me Out” video about Aj Shabeel

Pairing: Aj Shabeel x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Note: SUPER SUPER SORRY THAT I FINISHED THIS LATEE OML, I REALLY HAVE NO MOTIVATION TO WRITE LATELY.

Masterlist

Your phone screen glowed like a second moon in your dark bedroom.

It was 1:42 am and your brain was soup.

Technically, you were supposed to be asleep. Your alarm was set for 7:30 am, you had an early lecture, your phone was at 12% battery, and your skin was in desperate need of a break from blue light but then... the algorithm decided to play god.

Your "five minutes on tiktok" had turned into a full-on anthropological study. You were twenty swipes deep into the world of "Beta Squad Edits" Specifically, Aj Shabeel edits.

You were deep into your usual midnight scroll, curled on your side like a shrimp under your duvet, blanket pulled tight up to your chin, when it hit you like a spiritual awakening.

And not the funny ones.

The unholy kind. The "slow zoom, R&B music, black-and-white filter" kind. Someone out there had layered a dramatic Labrinth song over Aj video scenes.

You squinted. Rewatched it. Let it loop three, four times.

"Okay, wait" You whispered out loud, even though you were entirely alone.

"Hold on" You said.

You pulled your phone closer to your face.

Why was he so?

And how come?

Who allowed?

You paused the video. The frame stopped on his stupidly symmetrical face mid-bite. You stared.

"Okay, but... hear me out" You said.

That was the beginning of the end.

"This is stupid, I'm not doing this" You said.

Your thumb hovered over the search bar anyway.

"aj shabeel hear me out"

Zero results.

Your face twisted.

No one's done it? Not even a sound?

Your fyp was filled with "Hear Me Out" thirst traps for everyone from anime characters to minor footballers who played like twelve minutes total. That soft, playful voice, followed by a ridiculous beat drop that felt like a fake slow-motion montage from a Wattpad movie. Trainers. Fictional characters. One girl used it on Lord Farquaad from Shrek.

But Aj? Nothing.

You? You had taste.

And questionable judgment.

You stared at the screen. Blinked once.

And then, like an actual gremlin possessed.

"...Fine, I'll do it myself" You said.

You tossed your head back dramatically and groaned.

You flipped the camera around and stared at your reflection.

"This is so dumb" You whispered.

You pulled your hoodie over your head like a cartoon villain and whispered to yourself

"This is for the girlies who get it" You muttered to yourself.

Your face filled the screen. Hair was a mess. You hadn't even washed your face yet.

You hit record.

"Alright, hear me out.... Aj Shabeel"

And then came the smirk. The one you practiced ironically one time in the mirror but had now accidentally mastered. You tilted your head a little. Just a little. Just enough to look unserious but somehow flirty.

You watched it back.

"Cringe" You said as your face twitched in unison.

You hit delete.

Take two: the lighting made you look like you were being held hostage.

Take three: You said "Shabeel" too soft, like you were afraid of summoning him. You paused halfway to Google if he was single.

Then.

Take five: nailed the smirk, but your forehead was shiny. Distracting.

You didn't even film anything.

Take eight: finally.

It was clean. Flirty. Slightly embarrassing, which meant it would probably do numbers. You hesitated over the caption, thumb hovering.

No tags. No hashtags. No mentions.

And yet.

You stared at the "Post" button.

You watched the finished product once. Just once.

Then you posted it with the caption:

"This is so embarrassing but I stand by it 😭 #HearMeOut #AJShabeel #BetaSquad"

You turned your phone screen down on the bed.

And yeeted yourself into a pillow.

"He's never gonna see it, chill" You reassured yourself.

You didn't actually expect him to see it.

He had, what? Over a million followers? His for you page was probably elite. Controlled. Powerful. Your little tiktok? Just another scream into the void.

"Okay" You sighed.

"That's over" You added.

You dropped your phone on your nightstand, rolled over, and shoved your face into your pillow.

One thing about you? You'd post and ghost. No checking. No refreshing. No living in shame.

Except thirty seconds later, your phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Twenty-six times.

You sat up. Eyes wide. Neck slightly cracked from the sudden movement.

Notification flood.

"NAHHHH" You breathed.

11 new followers 49 likes 7 comments

That's too many. What if it ends up on his fyp? What if Chunkz sees it and clowns me? What if Beta Squad has a secret group chat called 'Girls Who Are Delulu About Aj' and I'm now the header image?

You hovered over delete.

But just before you tapped it, a comment came in,

"You did NOT lie"

"Aj needs to see this immediately"

"Petition to tag him"

Then someone tagged a friend.

Then ten more people did.

You watched the numbers jump. 421 views. 1,027. 5,204.

Oh no.

Chaos. In real time.

You blinked. Stared at the screen.

"Well, shit" You murmured.

You didn't mean to go viral. You barely brushed your lashes. You had cereal dust on your sleeve. This wasn't supposed to work.

You locked your phone. Threw it across the bed like it had betrayed you. Wrapped yourself up in the blanket like a guilt burrito.

"Whatever, It'll die down. I'll delete it in the morning" You mumbled.

Spoiler alert, you didn't.

Instead? You woke up to endless notifications.

And the first thing your brain said to you?

"Check the comments before you pee"

Your hand reached for your phone. Shaky. Delirious.

You opened TikTok.

186K likes. 740K views. 13K saves. 2,409 comments.

"Aj better respond or I'm rioting"

"Babe, he liked this"

You screamed into your blanket.

And then your brain registered it.

Wait.

He liked this?

You froze. Fingers trembling. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll----

@ajshabeel liked your video.

@ajshabeel reposted your video.

You screamed. A full, unfiltered shriek. You slapped a hand over your mouth like someone was going to call the police.

You scrambled upright in bed, phone shaking in your hand. Your heart sounded like Aj's laugh, loud, chaotic, impossible to ignore.

New notification.

@ajshabeel has sent you a message.

You didn't breathe. You didn't move. You stared at it like it might explode.

And then you opened it.

Aj Shabeel: you tryna get me in trouble??? 😭

You dropped the phone. You picked it up again. You read it three more times.

Then you replied,

"hear me out again 👀"

ajshabeel is typing...

- end -

Hello lovelies!!! That's a short one lmaoo sorry, I really just forced it out of me.

I hope y'all have an amazing day, absolute love and guidance.

As I said everytime, send in some request and ideas!!

#beta squad #beta squad x reader #chunkz #sharky #king kenny #aj shabeel #niko omilana #aziwrites #aj shabeel imagines #aj shabeel x reader #writing #writes #fanfiction #youtube imagines

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thisapplepielife · 11 months ago

Text

Written for @steddiesongfics.

If He Wanted To, He Would

July Prompt: Any Song Lyrics | Word Count: 2000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Eddie POV, Modern Setting, Sports AU, Rockstar Eddie, Baseball Player Steve, Very Public Love Affair, Corroded Coffin, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

I've used lyrics from Take Me Out to the Ball Game & Blank Space.

Even the news is covering it.

That's fucking ridiculous. There's an animated graphic, a live tracker of where his plane is, a moving dot over the Atlantic, like it's Christmas Eve and he's Santa Claus.

Eddie's gonna make it. He was always gonna make it, even as the press ran the numbers, the miles, and milked every ounce of drama out of it.

He made game one, and game four, and now he's racing back from playing Wembley in London to make it for game seven. The media has tried to sell the idea that Steve wanted the World Series to go to seven, just so Eddie would be able to attend.

Eddie's glad he's getting to see it, of course he is, but if they could have swept it in four, or locked it down in five or six, that would have been fucking awesome. Even if that meant Eddie missed seeing it live, and had to watch on television, in the middle of the night, across the world.

There are a shitton of tiktoks every week, dissecting their every move, looking for easter eggs. Eddie is just living his life, even if a million people are always watching him like a fucking hawk.

Goodie is walking back from the beer garden in the stadium, carrying his plastic cup in his mouth as he fiddles with something in his hands. Not spilling a goddamn drop. Eddie can only see this because he's being broadcast onto the stadium jumbotron.

When he climbs the stairs into the suite, Eddie asks, "Where's Gareth?"

"Got spotted. Now he's taking pictures. I just slipped away unnoticed. Sucker," Goodie says, putting his cup down on the table.

"Unnoticed, huh?" Eddie teases. He won't tell him. He'll just wait until Goodie sees it online for himself. "There's free beer back there you know?" Eddie asks. Neither one of them needed to venture out into the crowd.

Goodie shrugs, "I wanted this kind."

He could have had that kind, could have had any kind, if he'd just asked for it. But no, he wanted to be out among the people.

None of them are particularly fond of baseball, but they are fond of Steve, so here they are. The whole band doesn't always come, but it's the championship game, so they did.

And the score has been 1-0 forever.

Wayne is pacing. Unlike them, he loves baseball, even if he's been a little turncoat, switching teams like a lifetime of dedication meant nothing at all. He's gotten a little shit from his friends back home, but Eddie thinks it's honestly very sweet. Eddie loves that Wayne likes Steve enough to put him and his team as his number one with a bullet, now.

It helps that Steve's part of a fucking dynasty. It's fun to win, even Eddie gets that.

Wayne doesn't always hang out in suites. More often than not, he'd rather sit in the stands. Focus on the baseball, not the celebrity that's now surrounding it. But Wayne's been dragged into their highly publicized love affair, and now he's starting to get recognized all on his own, so Eddie worries.

Plus, he'd rather have him right here, where they can spend time together.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks.

"3-2," Wayne answers.

Eddie's distracted, filling his plate with the various appetizers that came with the steep price of the private suite. Sliders, pigs in a blanket, and all kinds of other fancified versions of comfort food. He's just scooping some mac & cheese on his plate when he hears his main guitar riff from Buckwild. He puts down his plate, making his way to the big windows just in time to see Steve step towards the batter's box.

Steve only changes his walk-up music to Corroded Coffin when Eddie's in attendance. He currently walks-up to Milkshake, which is fucking hilarious. He's one of the first openly out players, and he really leans into it, changing up his walk-up music, usually to something a little queer. Eddie knows it's partially to poke fun at himself first, before anyone else can.

But tonight, it's his song. Eddie's sure he's being broadcast on the jumbotron from some camera he can't even see, and may even be on live television. Eddie watches as Steve briefly points his bat, and at first Eddie thinks Steve's calling his shot, but no. Not unless he's intending to hit a foul ball.

No, he gestured at Eddie. At least where he assumed Eddie would be.

Eddie fiddles with the rings on his hand, moving from finger to finger, twisting them around and around as Steve swings and misses for the second time. Eddie can hardly watch, it makes him so nervous.

"What's the count?" Eddie asks. It's the only question he knows to ask.

"2-2," Wayne says from somewhere behind him. Wayne doesn't stand at the front when it's likely the camera is on them. Eddie gets it, he does, but he'd like him at his side. The windows are open tonight, and the fans in the seats in front of the suite have leaned up to talk to them, to get things signed, and Eddie has done it. They all have. Waving off security.

Nobody is being shitty, just excited, and Eddie's grateful he's been accepted by most of Steve's fans. There was always the fear that he'd be seen as a distraction, and sure, that's been a bit of the narrative, but Steve's in the goddamn World Series. His head is obviously still in the game.

Eddie signed a custom Corroded Coffin jersey with Steve's number on the back earlier, and if that wasn't fucking weird and delightful. And Harrington jerseys have been increasingly spotted at their gigs, from one in the crowd, to a dozen or more.

Steve takes the next ball, and Eddie was terrible at baseball as a kid. He swung at everything. He never had the self-control to wait for something good.

He's glad he grew out of that, at least a little, because he waited, and now he has Steve. A goddamn home run in human form.

Eddie's relieved when he hears the crack of the bat finally making contact with the ball, and he watches intently until Steve's safely on first, Eddie leaning out of the open box window, hanging onto the frame, screaming.

He rights himself, clapping hard as he spins in a circle, screaming some more.

Then, Eddie watches as Steve steals second on a wild pitch, and the stadium sound system blares to life with Gimme Three Steps.

Steve dusts himself off from his slide in, and Eddie is so fucking smitten.

And his ass looks damn good in those pants. His milkshake did bring Eddie to the yard.

It's the seventh-inning stretch, and Eddie hears the familiar, "for it's one, two, three strikes, you're out," being sung by the entire stadium.

He's nervous now. More nervous than he ever is going on stage anymore.

They've made it this far, and he wants Steve to win the whole thing.

They do win. Steve fielded a grounder, whipped it to first base, and with one last out, it was finally over. Gloves being thrown in the air, lots of hugs and jumping up and down.

Steve did it.

And Eddie smiles.

Steve isn't released, not yet. There'll be interviews, and a parade that Eddie unfortunately can't attend, so Eddie only gets a few minutes in the tunnel with him. Some stolen kisses and a silly groped handful, just giving Steve's cup a squeeze, to make him laugh.

It's all too brief, but he'll see him soon.

They go from the game straight back to the airport, Goodie and Gareth both pretty drunk after too many celebratory shots, leaving Jeff and him to babysit as they get wheels up, to head back across the pond. Their world tour, waiting.

They'll make it.

Steve swears jet-lag is a choice, and Eddie's choosing to believe him.

Another city, and his turn on the big stage, as Eddie looks out towards the VIP tent. Steve waves with both hands over his head, making himself larger, more easily seen.

Steve attended a few Monday shows with Robin, when their schedules lined up enough to allow it. But now his season is over. He's a fucking world champion, and it's the offseason, which is Eddie's new favorite word.

If he'd known he'd fall in love with a sportsball guy, he would have made sure their tour had a lengthy break during this magical offseason.

Next year.

And Eddie is confident that next year is a given. That's how in he is with their relationship, with Steve. They both have their own lives, their own fame, their own increasingly busy schedules. But they make it work, because they want it to work.

The fans have dubbed all their crisscrossing travel as "if he wanted to, he would" and have been straight up swooning.

Eddie likes that thought, because he does want to, and he knows Steve wants to, too.

He's committed to this thing, and so is Steve. And if that means flying for hours to be there for the important shit, even if you have to turn around and fly right back, well fuck, you do it. And you don't even think about it.

Eddie slips in a pop cover, mid-set, just being silly, because he wants to shout out Steve a little bit extra tonight. He sings and when he gets to "'cause you know I love the players, and you love the game" and the crowd gets behind it. Steve, too, if his hands in the air are any indication.

He's a pop girlie at heart, and Eddie loves him for it.

Steve is comfortable in his own skin, and he likes what he likes. He's supportive of Eddie, of Corroded Coffin, and very demonstrative with his affection and admiration. The love is always free-flowing. But, heavy metal isn't his thing. Not really. And that's okay.

So, a little pop is injected for his benefit, Eddie saying 'I love you for who you are' right back.

Buckwild is last, is always last, and Steve's here, so that means a subtle lyric change. He only does it when Steve's in attendance, and it makes the crowd go wild. Changing one word is enough to send them into a frenzy, like they're part of something special and sacred.

They are.

When he approaches the lyric, Steve has moved closer, right at the stage, in front of the barricade, and puts his hand up to his ear, hyping the crowd, getting ready for it, and Eddie can hardly sing through his fucking smile.

When they exit the stage, the first face he sees is Steve's, and Steve opens his arms and Eddie hugs him, pulling back and kissing him, over and over.

He's the one.

The one he loves.

The one he'll marry.

The one. Period.

Steve waves to the crowd that's gathered to watch, and then he puts his arm around Eddie's waist, ushering him away, one more show over.

In bed, Eddie rests his head against Steve's bare chest. These last few weeks have been different, brand new, and exciting. It's the first time they've really gotten to feel like they're coming home to each other. Getting to be in the same place for an extended period of time, Steve following the tour.

Steve brushes Eddie's bangs off his face, and kisses his forehead.

"You were amazing tonight," Steve whispers, and Eddie grins.

"So were you, working the crowd," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, and Eddie loves it. Steve's not shy. He's had all the media training, probably more than Eddie, because he's got a brand, a team, to protect. Eddie just runs his mouth at-will, always has.

Steve doesn't hide backstage where Eddie can't see him, no, he always makes sure he's supporting Eddie out loud and with his whole goddamn chest.

So, because he wants to, he does.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiesongfics and follow along with the fun! 🎶

Notes: Obviously inspired by the very public relationship of Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. Goodie carrying the beer in his teeth is straight up a shoutout to Jason Kelce doing that at the Eras tour. 🍺

This one was so hard to stop writing for at the 2k max word count, lol.

#steddiesongfics #lyrics song prompt #stranger things #established steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #rockstar eddie munson #sports au #sports guy steve harrington #corroded coffin fic #corroded coffin guys #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiesongfics

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vivalas-vega · 2 months ago

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fine line / part one

look at me trying new things !!! dipping my toe into a new fandom - long time lurker, first time contributor. first four parts are written, I just wanted to get this out and get some feelers and feedback. this is gonna be a big one, i'm working very hard !! please please please, let me know what you think (gonna update the header - just wanted to put something for now lol)

fine line / mcu x reader / part one

summary: Three kids from Brooklyn. A war that asks too much. And a woman with secrets stitched into every seam.

also - seems obvious bc of the title but fine line by harry styles is the song for this fic, if you like listening while reading that should def be on your playlist (maybe I’ll make a playlist, I’m undecided)

to be tagged in future works, please turn on post notifications for @vegaslibrary

word count: 2.5k

warnings: (not specific to this part, but for the series as a whole. this fic is 18+, you are responsible for your own media consumption). language, angst, drinking, smut, violence, references (and descriptions) of bucky's abuse within hydra, canon-typical situations - this is the mcu y'all, shit will get a little crazy, and a little devastating

Summer, 1943

“Come on, doll,” Bucky sighed, hand on your waist gripping firm to try and stop you but you just gave him one of those looks that was so classically you. A little annoyance, a little mischief. “A double date with Steve and Bonnie isn’t really what I had in mind for our last night.”

His hand shifted just slightly, not enough to be considered indecent for how publicly you were situated, but enough towards your hip that you knew what he meant, what he wanted. “There’ll be plenty of time for what you’re suggesting later, Sergeant Barnes,” you replied, the smirk on your lips completely undercutting how innocent you sounded. You pushed him closer to Steve, forcing them to soak up as much conversation as they could before Bucky left at first light tomorrow morning.

“I don’t see what the problem is. You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.” Bucky said. “You know there’s three and a half million women here?” He was trying to make him feel hopeful and optimistic about his departure but you and Steve both knew it was fruitless. Bucky was leaving, leaving the two of you behind to go fight the war. It had been just you three since you were children, against the world, and your trio was about to fracture… in ways the boys didn’t even know.

“I’d settle for just one,” Steve sighed and you flashed him a bright smile, trading places with Bucky and looping your arm through his.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I’ve taken care of that, isn’t it?” you asked, waving to Bonnie in the distance, waiting for you all just at the entrance.

“What did you tell her about me?” he asked apprehensively.

“Oh, only the good stuff, Steve,” you replied, leaning closer, “and there was a lot to tell.” You made introductions and nudged him forward, trying to push him out of his shell but Steve didn’t do well with letting the rest of the world see who he was. You and Bucky were larger than life, and so was he according to you, but you two seemed to be the only people who knew that.

Howard Stark took the stage—a technology man so ahead of his time you half-believed he was a time traveler. You considered yourself a fairly practical woman, but even you couldn’t help feeling giddy as he spoke of a flying car. You watched in awe as he made it hover above the ground and you turned to face Bucky when you heard him mutter holy cow, with an awe struck smile on your face and delight in your eyes.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning to say something to Steve, who had disappeared at some point in the last five minutes, causing him to look around confused. You gave a sad smile, pointing toward the recruitment center. Bonnie didn’t notice, still marveling at Stark’s other inventions.

“I’m not sure why he wants to face the rejection time and time again,” Bucky said, a mix of disappointment and sympathy in his tone.

“He’s a dedicated man,” you said. “It’s a fine trait in what would make a fine soldier… I just wish they could see that.”

“Well, not everyone can see the world as you do, doll,” he said, pulling the door open for you. “But it’d sure be a good thing if they did.” You frowned slightly when you found Steve, standing in front of a mirror meant to show the person in front of it in a full military uniform… and Steve’s eyes rested where the neck was supposed to be. You thought the world of him, as did Bucky, and you hated how much him and everyone else fixated on his size. You always said a man was measured not by his stature, but by what his heart contained, though Steve could only hear you say it so many times before he stopped believing it.

“Come on,” Bucky said, clapping him on the shoulder and Steve turned, almost a little embarrassed at being caught in front of the display. “You’re kind of missing the point of a double date, we’re taking the girls dancing.”

“You go ahead,” he replied, stepping away from the mirror with his hands in his pockets. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“You’re really going to do this again?” Bucky asked with a disapproving look and you shot him one of your own.

“Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.”

“As who? Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you… or worse, they’ll actually take you.” You gave Steve a sympathetic look, you’d watched him torture himself with this since the war began, and it broke your heart.

“Look, I know you don’t think I can do this-”

“This isn’t some back alley, Steve. It’s a war,” Bucky shot back and you sighed, realizing Bucky’s little side mission before he met up with you was pulling Steve out of another fight.

“I know it’s a war.”

“Why are you so keen to fight? There’s lots of other important jobs-”

“What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”

“Yes! Why not?” Bucky was exasperated and you let out another sigh. This is how it always was, it was you in the middle of them constantly… because you could so clearly see both sides. Bucky had points, but so did Steve.

“I’m not gonna sit in a factory, Bucky. Even Button is doing more than me,” he protested and your eyes darted around… of all the places you didn’t want your laundry aired, a recruitment center was pretty high on that list.

“Steve,” you nearly whispered, a warning. You didn’t need any attention on you or what you did for the war, the less people knew the safer you’d be and the better you could carry out your tasks.

“Sorry,” he muttered, giving you an apologetic look. “Men are laying down their lives, Bucky. I’ve got no right to do any less. It’s not just about me.”

“Right, cause you’ve got nothing to prove,” Bucky shot back and the air grew more tense around you. You wished they wouldn’t fight, not when you had a gut feeling things would never be like this again. Tomorrow Bucky would ship off to war, you’d disappear into your work, and Steve… you didn’t know what Steve would do. This moment could have been the last where you were all still just kids from Brooklyn.

“Come on, aren’t we goin’ dancing?” Bonnie called out, lingering near the entrance.

“Yeah, we are,” Bucky answered, a slight edge to his tone as he tried to pull you away but you planted your feet.

“James,” you said, voice firm. “Not like this.” You gave him a look and he glanced back to Steve, letting out a sigh as he conceded. You were right, as always.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid until I get back,” he said, a teasing lilt to his tone as he fixed the distance he’d created just a minute ago.

“How can I?” Steve asked. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You cracked a smile, watching Bucky pull him in for a hug, both of them muttering something like punk and jerk. “Be careful,” he added when Bucky pulled away and you could see the longing in his eyes. Longing for his best friend’s safety, longing to go with him.

“Stop by the shop this week, okay?” you asked, leaning down to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek and he nodded half-heartedly. “Don’t disappear on me too, Rogers,” you prodded, keeping your tone light and he gave you his full attention, promising he would come by before you ran to catch up with Bucky. Perhaps it was a low blow pulling on his heartstrings like that, but you felt you had to. You didn’t have much time to make sure he’d be alright without Bucky… without you. You all had jobs to do, and as soon as Bucky shipped out yours would be your focus, you just didn’t know what Steve’s focus would be.

You and Bucky burst through the door like you were outrunning the end of the world, clumsily making your way inside your small apartment without letting your lips stray from his. Your back hit the wall with a soft thud and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck as his hands roamed everywhere, trying to memorize the feel of you as best he could and you were doing the same. You wanted his touch burned into your skin, the memory lodged in every fiber of your being.

He groaned when you grabbed him by the lapel of his coat, one you’d made for him, and pulled him back to your lips, kissing him with such an intensity that his grip on your waist became bruising. Good, you thought. Give me something to hold onto when you’re gone. The sound that tumbled from your mouth when he hoisted you off the ground to set you on the table shot straight through him and he couldn’t get his hands to move fast enough as they pulled your coat down your arms and began working on the buttons of your dress.

Each inch of skin he exposed made him crumble for you, and his hands landed on either side of your neck to pull you back into a kiss, demanding and hungry… possessive. The slide of his tongue against yours melted you into him, sent tingles to the tips of your toes…. Your fingers were more controlled as they undid his belt, more graceful than his movements had been but the way you tugged it off and threw it on the floor was anything but. You slid your fingers through the loops and pulled him flush against your core, softly biting his bottom lip as he groaned into your mouth.

“God, Button,” he whispered, pushing the hair from your face. “You tryin’ to kill me before I ship out?”

“Maybe just incapacitate you,” you replied and he shook his head before his lips traced a path along your chest. Your fingers tangled in his hair as he lingered just above your heart and when he lifted his eyes to meet yours they were dark, unreadable.

“You’re gonna vanish, aren’t you?” It was barely above a whisper but it felt loud as it rattled through your ears, heart still thudding rapidly and his hands still holding you like you might vanish right now. You’d grown so still you felt a little like glass beneath his fingers but he pressed on anyway. “I know what you’re planning, you might be able to fool Steve, but not me.”

You didn’t answer, just let your hands slide up to rest on his chest… not quite pushing him away, but not pulling him closer either. “You think I’m stupid?” he asked, catching your chin and pulling your gaze to him… not forceful, but insistent. “You’ve been wrapping things up for weeks, meeting people you won’t name. Soon as I got my papers, you started pulling away. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“Bucky-”

“I get it. You want to do more. You’ve always wanted to do more.”

“So please don’t fight me on it,” you replied, soft and sure. “Not tonight.”

He swallowed hard, jaw flexing as he considered his next words. “I’m not trying to stop you, I just-” he exhaled sharply. “I don’t know how to walk out of here tomorrow and feel like it’s really you that’s leaving me.”

“Because it’d be so easy if it were you leaving me?” you asked as you ran your fingers through his hair and he didn’t have an answer, because it wasn’t easy either way. “Forget tomorrow. Just be here. Just… be here.”

There was nothing else to say, and he didn’t know how to deny you anything, especially not when you pleaded. His eyes scanned your face for a moment and his grip on your face squeezed, just slightly, before he pulled you back into him, kissing you with a new purpose. Now, it wasn’t just him that had to make it back home to you, you had to make it back home to him, too. He didn’t like those odds, both of you being out there.

He pulled you up and helped you pull off the rest of your clothing before pushing you back onto the bed and settling above you, hands taking in every inch of flesh they could. Each movement felt loaded, a whisper of I love you, of I miss you, of please don’t break my heart. Each push of his body into yours filled you like fire and you wished you could stay here like this with him forever… that there wasn’t a war you were both so determined to fight, that you didn’t have to worry about the world outside your apartment door. You wished you lived in a world where the only thing that mattered was you and Bucky in this bed, giving and taking everything you had to offer.

You laid curled against his side, head resting on his chest and listening to the steady thump of a heart that you knew belonged to you. Your fingers moved idly along his skin, as if you were trying to stitch something into him. “I keep thinking about everything we’re never gonna get.”

Bucky was quiet for a long moment. His hand moved slowly along your back, like he could calm the ache out of you one inch at a time. “Like what?”

“Sunday mornings,” you said. “Stupid arguments over curtains. You kissing me in a grocery store, and it not meaning goodbye.”

He smiled, a little sad, “I would kiss you in a grocery store.”

“You’d kiss me anywhere, Sergeant.” you teased, voice thick with affection.

“True,” he chuckled before you fell back into silence. You could feel sleep trying to pull you under, your body exhausted from the weight of his touch, the weight of what it had meant, but you fought it… wanting another minute. Another ten. Another twenty.

“Promise me something,” you said, your voice smaller than you meant it to be.

He looked down at you. “Anything.”

“Leave before I wake up.”

“Button,” he started, already knowing he’d barely be able to stand leaving you as it was.

“Don’t make me watch you walk away,” you murmured. The pain of it lived in every word. “I won’t be able to take it.” He stared up at the ceiling like it might hold a better answer, jaw tense. “Promise me,” you prompted and you saw it break in his eyes. That familiar crack, the one that always came right before he gave in… because it was you. It would always be you. There wasn’t a single thing you could ask of him that he wouldn’t do, even if it broke his own heart.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I promise.” You stared at him for a long moment, memorizing every sharp line, every soft crease, like your eyes could hold onto him when your arms couldn’t.

You pulled him back into you, losing yourself in him again. There would never be enough kisses. Never enough I love you’s. Never enough of this.

But it had to be.

This one night had to hold all the ones you’d never get.

Time was already moving on without you. But for now, it was just him. Just you. Just this.

And that would have to be enough.

next part

#james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x you #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu x you

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blair3writ3s · 1 year ago

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And I Can’t Help Myself | Kyle Scheible

Kyle Scheible x F!reader, smut

You and Kyle end up stuck in the same hotel room after a concert, and he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible. Spoiler, he ends up knuckles deep inside you.

Warnings: confused to lovers. The CLASSIC one bed trope. Cussing, inexperienced reader. Reader calls people “babe” platonically. Kyle speaks French because Timothée does and it’s the hottest thing ever so!! The French is in italics :}

OOC but I don’t care

MDNI

Your extremely rusty, ancient car rumbled down the highway. The steering wheel trembled slightly beneath your hands. Honda Civics, seating exactly five, had almost enough room to fit the band. Almost. You had to make Kyle sit in the trunk.

Luckily, your car was a hatchback, and police officers didn’t have much interest in pulling over a rag-tag car full of high schoolers; blasting Seven Nation Army.

Olive, sitting next to you, shouted the lyrics of the song. Her blonde hair was all mused up from the wind, but it still looked marvelous.

Tony, Miles, and Jake, in the backseat, sang along. Their yelling was completed with air guitar motions and air drumming. With the windows rolled down, it was a madhouse.

Between the loudness of your band; and hair flying everywhere, it was almost enough to take your mind off the show tonight.

Almost.

The car rumbled along, nearing the shabby hotel Olive had booked for us. It was the closest hotel to our venue, and the cheapest too.

Turning down the radio and rolling up the windows, you shouted, your voice laced with excitement, “Guys! We’re almost here. Get your stuff together.”

Olive grinned, exclaiming, “Between your horrible driving and Ky in the back,” Kyle held up his middle finger from the trunk, face blank.

“I thought for sure at least one of us wouldn’t make it.” She laughed, her laughter a bird-like chirping. You swatted at her leather-clad arm playfully, scoffing at her antics.

Glancing in your mirrors, pulling into the parking spot, you locked eyes with Kyle. He had his book in one hand, bass on his lap. Nausea was plastered on his face, likely from the boat-like qualities of the car.

You snickered under your breath.

Kyle, face pale and hands sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the nausea etched on his face. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl back at home.

Unfortunately, you weren’t too different from them.

“Remind me,” Kyle grumbled, “To never let you drive anywhere ever again.” He said to you, a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

You turned around to face him, slamming your door shut. “Remind me,” I mocked, “Which one of us has an actual drivers license?” You walked over to him, picking your guitar up off the ground, along with your backpack full of essentials.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

You turned towards the back windshield of the car, hip bumping the side of his upper thigh. Combing your hands through your layered hair, and adjusting your tank top, you made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“At least I can drive, babe.” You commented, ignoring the prickle of fondness that ran down your spine.

“Sure, chérie,” Kyle said, lowering his voice to match the slight grin playing on his lips.

He promptly turned away, ruffling your hair before he walked towards the hotel, following your band mates inside. Your eyes, despite your best judgement, followed his figure. He was stupidly hot, a kind of hotness that a guy like him shouldn’t get to have.

Not that you would ever, not in a million years, tell him that.

“ONE ROOM?? I BOOKED THREE!” Olive screeched, an angry redness was creeping up her neck. She glared at the receptionist, “How do you expect 6 people to cram into one room!?”

The receptionist looked blankly at her, glancing at the lot of us. “I don’t know. But I can assure you that your file only has one room under it.” She clicked her tongue “you’ll have to make do.”

Olive clenched her jaw, eye twitching. “LISTEN HERE YOU-“ She raised her voice further, leaning inwards towards the older woman.

“Oli, babe,” You interjected swiftly, grabbing her arm. “Why don’t you go.. take a walk?” Olive’s jaw clenched, shoulders tense as she stomped out of the hotel. She slammed the glass door shut so hard you thought it would shatter. Luckily, it did not.

Pushing through your band mates to the front desk, you smiled in a friendly manner to the clerk. She did not not return your smile.

“Is there any way to book an additional 2 rooms now? We can pay.” You said, putting on your costumer service voice, that you use at your management job.

“Nope.” She said, voice as monotone as ever. “I’m afraid we only have one other free room, and it only has one double bed.” She flicked her eyes back across the group of us, “As opposed to the two separate beds your other room has.” She finished, glancing down to the computer, clicking away.

“We’ll take it! Anything’s better than one room.” Miles quickly interjected, glancing at you pleadingly.

“It’ll cost $100 for one nights stay, and because you’re just getting it now…$50 extra.” The clerk stated, glancing back up at you.

You turned towards Jake, the manager of the band. He swept his dark hair to the side, swiftly giving you the cash for the room.

You passed the money to the woman, and quickly guided the band up to the rooms.

“Ok, boys…and Olive,” You said, putting your hands on your maxi-skirt-clad hips. “Oli and I are going to take the room with the single bed, and you guys are going to have to figure out the other room.” You tossed Tony the keys, turning towards the room directly across the hall.

“Really?” Kyle challenged, grabbing your arm before you entered your room. “What are we, children? Why do all four of us have to get packed into that room,” he said, gesturing the boys standing around him, as well as the door to their room “while you and Olive get plenty of space?” He stated, walking towards the other end of the hallway, and towards the other room.

“I vote we split three for three. It’s much more fair.” Kyle declared, crossing his arms. “What do you think, little Miss Guitarist? ” he really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both feuding over something as fickle as rooming arrangements.

“I dunno, Mister Bassist, maybe I don’t want to share a room with your annoying ass!” You whisper-shouted, pulling Oli inside of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Kyle, from outside your door, yelled “Va te faire foutre, putain de con!”, banged on your door once, then gave up, going into his designated room.

“And I thought I had a flare for the dramatic,” Olive teased, setting her outfit for the night out on the bed. “You and Kyle are on a completely different planet. Especially with him yelling his French” She chirped, laughing at the situation.

“I can’t believe I actually won that fight,” You said lightheartedly. “I thought for sure he was going to kick down the door.” I rolled my eyes, turning towards her.

“I know, right? I mean, he still hasn’t given up with the whole dating thing..” Olive said, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sighed, setting your bag on the bed. “He’s a player. I’d rather die than give in to that nightmare” You joked, turning back towards her.

Olive sighed, grabbing your hand softly. “I really don’t think he wants to hurt you-“

You swiftly interrupted her “-I’m going to take a quick shower before I start getting ready, ok, babe? I want to look perfect for tonight.”

“Sure,” she sighed, flashing you the classic; ‘I-don’t-agree-but-I’ll-go-along-with-it’, best friend look.

Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. Quickly stripping, you set out a towel for yourself and a hair mask. You took your time in the shower, scrubbing, exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing. You were determined to be ready for tonight, who knew how it would go.

The time flew so quick, it surprised you to hear a rhythmic knock on the door, disrupting your trance.

“What’s up?” You called, scrubbing the last of the hair mask out of your hair.

“I’m going to head over to the other room to practice with the boys,” Olive called through the door. “I want to go over vocals one more time with Miles. And I think Tony wants to assemble some of his drum equipment,”

“Ok! I’ll see you in 30.” You called back, excitement flowing through your veins for the approaching show.

You finished the shower, drying off and blow drying your hair. Tonight, you decided, you were going to go all out. Full glam, you suppose.

The room door clicked open, implying Olive’s departure. You heard some mumbling, but it wasn’t outside the ordinary to hear Olive talking to herself. The door promptly clicked shut.

Thinking nothing of it, you finished your makeup and hair, leaving the bathroom in only your bra and underwear from the day to find your outfit for the night.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and you whirled around, startled to find Kyle; sitting on your bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw his flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his hazel eyes stared into yours blankly.

He mumbled “Putain de chaud”, eyes darting away from yours. The bass that he had previously been strumming was left limp in his lap.

“What gibberish are you grumbling now?” You complained, Turing your back on him. Quickly slipping on a stray sweatshirt Olive had left out, you covered your torso and upper thighs from view. “What are you doing in here anyway?” You inquired crudely, digging through your bag for your clothes.

“Merde, I was just looking for my bass, and found it in here near your guitar.” He said, glancing away from your perturbed expression. “And it was really loud in the other room so I wanted to stay in here, ma femme parfaite.” He trailed off, not making eye contact while saying the last part.

“You can’t just switch into French and assume I understand,” You ridiculed him, pulling your tights on. “For all I know, you just called me a “cunt-bitch -whore” I teased, a playful smile pulling at my lips.

“The world may never know,” he said, lying back on the bed, slight smirk playing on his lips. His hair fell across his forehead, eyes closing, strumming his bass absentmindedly. And for a second, you wanted to kiss him.

The band unloaded out your car, hauling the musical equipment towards the entrance of the venue. Pushing through the door, you followed closely behind Olive, trying not to bump your band mates with the case of your guitar. The venue was still completely empty, to your relief. It was big, clearly a party scene. There was a slight haze in the air, from what, you don’t know.

Jake, being the manager, walked across the venue, beginning to set up the -sparse- merch he had designed for the band. It was a typical black band tee, but with the name of your band, “L'Enfance Nue”, sprawled across the upper half.

The rest of us decidedly walked over towards the stage, hauling the equipment behind you.

You hopped up onto the stage, placing your guitar and amp cord close to the center, but a little to stage left. Olive was already in the center with Miles, attempting to plug in their microphones to the questionable-looking amp.

Kyle stood to your stage left, also puzzling over the amp and his bass.

“Fuck this. My plug doesn’t fit,” He grumbled, standing up from his crouched position. Turning towards you, he demanded “Did you switch our cords, belle?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, flipping your hair over your shoulder. Approaching the amp, you grabbed Kyle’s bass right out of his hands. You briefly glanced over it, noticing the black sheen and the shallow scratches throughout the face of the instrument.

You glanced up at him briefly; making, then quickly breaking, eye contact. His brunette hair had fallen into his eyes, mouth slightly agape, creating an aloof look.

You knew better.

“Oh,” you laughed, pulling the plug out of the socket on his bass. “You had the cord twisted. This side,” you clicked it into the amp, “goes here, and this” you finished the circuit, fully plugging in the instrument, “goes into here! Dumbass.” You laughed, strumming a B7 chord on the bass.

“Give that back, belle!” He demanded, grabbing your hand, which was now attempting a bass line that he plays during one of the songs.

“You can’t even play..” he trailed off, staring at your ring-clad hand. His hazel eyes drifted back up to yours, stopping briefly on your parted lips. An annoying smirk tugged on the corners of him mouth.

The position you two were in hit you like a bus. Your bodies were nearly touching, with his hand grasping yours, and his bass hanging from a strap around your shoulders. To an outsider looking in, you were about to kiss.

Yeah right.

You punched his shoulder with your opposite hand, backing away from him. Kyle scoffed, putting his hands up in surrender. Passing him his bass, you padded over to your own cord and instrument, plugging it in and tuning.

Your fingers played with the knobs on the guitar, adjusting it to perfection. You could feel Kyle’s insidious gaze on your profile, but you decidedly avoided eye contact. An embarrassed redness creeped up your neck, the tension of the room was becoming unbearable.

The lights in the venue began to dim, and the stage lights lit up. The ambiance of the room shifted, stirring your nerves. This was really happening, your first show.

The night went by in a haze, but the only thing you could really focus on was Kyle. He was in “the zone”, so to speak.

His hair was in his eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. A light sheen coated his forehead, dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes. He was strumming his bass with quick, ring-clad fingers, body swaying slightly to the beat.

And, despite his fuck-boyness, he looked angelic.

Kyle, finishing his bass line, glanced up at you, smirking. You smiled back, completing your solo at the end of the song.

The crowd cheered, a sound that was simply music to your ears. They loved you, loved the band. You basked in the glow of their cheers, hugging Olive from the side.

Kyle sneaked up behind the both of you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. He was smiling the brightest you’ve ever seen him smile, laughter was pouring from his lips like song.

Olive glanced at you mischievously, a small smirk pulling at her cherry lips.

“Y’all wanna hear some punk-ass French?!” She yelled into the microphone, laughing as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You both pushed Kyle forward, giggling as his face turned a bright crimson.

“Um, hey guys,” He said into the mic. There was a few whoops from the crowd, egging him on. “Nous sommes “L’Enfance nue”!” He said, laughing under his breath. “Nous sommes plutôt cool, alors... ouais. Passe une bonne nuit!” The crowd erupted into cheers and clapping.

You never wanted the night to end.

But, like all things, it did.

And now you wanted nothing more than to shower and relax, in your bed, alone.

Alas, Olive decided tonight, of all nights, was the night to make a move on Miles. And so, Olive sat on his lap in the backseat of your car, loudly making out with him.

And when you arrived at the hotel, they had wordlessly claimed the room with the two beds, locking the door swiftly behind them.

“Guys!! Really? Come ON!” You yelled, banging on the door. Turning to the group, you sighed, crossing your arms. “What are we going to do?” You groaned, leaning against the wall.

“Well.. I guess I can find another hotel..” Jake said, scratching the back of his head bashfully.

“I’ll go with him!” Tony quickly agreed, following Jake out of the hotel. You turned to Kyle, sighing reluctantly.

“Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with." Kyle followed, his movements mirroring yours. The small walk down the cramped hallway was filled with a tension.

Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching the door, you fumbled for the key, your irritation evident in your clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room that was thoroughly unappealing.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. Kyle rolled his eyes at the sight, scoffing at you.

“We’re not children, belle,” Kyle stated, starting to dismantle your fortress.

“‘You could’ve fooled me, Ky,” you said, giving up on the pillows. Grabbing your bag, you walked swiftly into the bathroom, hoping to change into something more comfortable.

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with someone who you refused to love.

And unfortunately, your resolve you crumbling.

You sat at the small vanity, brushing your hair out. You saw Kyle approaching you out in the reflection, but you refused to make direct eye contact.

You knew what was about to happen.

He touched your shoulder lightly, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, his voice still soft. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is soft, too, but it is also nervous, almost fearful.

He knelt down. “Belle, look at me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to look at him. In fact, you were quite sure everyone would be infinitely better off if you never laid eyes on him again, bandmate or no.

You did, though, turning around on the chair hesitantly. He took your hands in his, smiling at you in such a way that your heart fluttered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispered, clutching your hands. “Your heart is safe with me,” he finished, blushing lightly.

“But I know you,” you told him softly with a slight shake of your head, “And I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his hands tightening around yours. “Why not?”

You shook your head again.

You couldn’t tell him why you refused to allow him to have you, despite him trying so many times in the past. You knew how he felt about you.

But you know how he is, what he does.

“I love you, belle,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ve loved you for months. I want you. I need you.”

“You don’t,” you insisted, yanking your hands away and standing up, backing away from him.

He stepped forward. You turned around, adjusting a table decoration to distract yourself from him.

Then, footsteps.

Hands on your hips.

Being pulled gently backwards.

The firm lines of a male body pressed against you.

The heat emanating from him, seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

“I do,” he said quietly, pulling your hair to one side and leaning down to press kisses into the skin of your neck.

You tried desperately not to whimper.

Logical or not, you wanted him to touch you, and had for a long time.

Kyle’s grip on your hips tightened. “I want you,” he said again. “I need to be yours” Another kiss to your neck. “Please, belle. Please don’t turn ms down. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” he swore. “The best you’ve ever had.” Another kiss, this one open-mouthed.

“I want to fill you,” he murmured. “With me at first, again and again until you’re screaming for it, screaming for me .” He slid his hands up and down your sides, lingering on your hips. “Then I want to fill you with my children.” Another kiss. “And then me again. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I know… I know I’ll never tire of you, never get enough of you.”

You knew he’d been with a great many women, but hearing him say it was like an ice shard in your chest anyway.

“How many?” You whispered, your voice sharp.

“You mean, uh…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“How many women?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds.

“About seven.”

Another ice shard.

“I see.”

“Does it bother you?” he questioned.

You didn’t say anything at first, but then, “You know it does,”

“But I love you,” Kyle pointed out, winding his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “I have for so long” You almost scoffed. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not,” you said primly.

His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts.

“I like that you’re jealous,” he told you, nuzzling your neck.

“I’m not,” you snapped.

Kyle chuckled softly, then sighed and said, “I won’t force you.” He stepped away from you. “But I… I need you to know,” he went on, “that I care for you a great deal. I’ll make it special for you. I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “I can make you beg for me. I can make you burn for me as I burn for you.”

You turned towards him, bracing your hands against the table behind you for fear you’d fall over, shock evident on your face.

“You…” you paused, “you burn for me?”

He stepped towards you again until he was right in front of you, then cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Haven’t you seen the way I look at you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide.

“Let me be yours, belle,” he murmured, gazing longingly at your reddened lips. “Let me make you feel good.” He was leaning towards you slowly, gauging your reaction. “Please. I need you,” he said again, desperate for you. “Say you’ll have me,” he pleaded. “Say you'll let me take you, make you mine.”

“Aren’t I already yours?” You wondered aloud. Realizing your words, you slapped a hand over your mouth, face turning red.

Kyle smirked at you, chucking softly. “If you are mine I am certainly yours,” he responded.

You’d never thought you’d want to belong to someone, but you wanted to belong to him. Your heart and soul have belonged to him for a long time, though you’d never tell him that. What difference did it make if your body belonged to him, too?

You shouldn’t. You should refuse him. He would break your heart, and there’d be nothing you could do to escape him. You couldn’t very well kick him out of the band, could you?

You shouldn’t let him touch you, but with him looking at you that way, you weren’t sure you could refuse. Your resolve crumbled.

He’s already going to break my heart, you realized.

Unintentional it may be, but he will destroy you nonetheless, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you let him do as he wishes, at least you’ll have him in this small way. At least you’ll be able to pretend, for a moment, that he’s truly in love with you, too.

You couldn’t refuse him. You wanted this with him too much.

You clenched your eyes shut and nodded slightly.

Within seconds, Kyle’s hand was in your hair and his lips were moving against yours with barely restrained passion. He wound his free arm around your waist, tilting his head slightly.

His lips never leaving yours, moving against you with a gentle pressure, he began to untie drawstring that was keeping your shorts on your waist.

Having been the only person to ever see your body since you’d passed that age of 10, you nearly pushed him away from you, nearly swatted his hands away.

He was still kissing you when he slid your tank-top off of your torso. “Tilt your head,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes. You did so. “Move your lips like I do, okay?” You nodded your understanding, and he smiled. “Good. When my tongue touches yours, just do what I do, belle.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice quiet and rushed as he moved in to kiss you again. “You’ve been calling me that all night”

“Belle?” he questioned. You nodded, and he smiled again. “It means ‘beautiful’.”

You blushed. “Oh.”

And then he kissed you again. Hard. You wanted more, wanted his lips to keep moving against yours, and when you tentatively mirrored his actions, he moaned against you, gripping your hip with one hand and placing the other at the small of your back. When he felt the fabric of your bra, however, he froze.

And you remembered that he hadn’t actually taken the time to look at you in your underwear alone. He pulled back slowly, his eyes sliding down your body.

It was a fairly typical set, black lace and pink stitching that led to a bow in the center. It pushed your breasts together slightly, and hugged your curves closely.

It left nothing to the imagination.

The shapes and lines of your body were visible. The color of your nipples, the slightly curved expanse of your stomach, the slender dip of your waist and the swell of your hips.

Kyle could see every part of you, and he stared at you for nearly a minute, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a fraction, before the two of them appeared to snap out of the trance they’d been in; him after seeing your body, and you at the horror of him seeing your body.

You crossed one leg in front of the other and covered your breasts with your arms.

Kyle, on the other hand, was in the process of pulling his shirt off as quickly as physically possible.

“No,” he practically growled as he yanked his shirt over his head and promptly began to unbuckle his belt, shucking off his shoes and socks at the same time. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he stripped down to his undergarments (a cotton pair of short pants with a drawstring, which he quickly undid) before sliding those over his hipbones, too, with absolutely zero hesitation.

You didn’t even get a look at his dick, he was on you so fast.

He kissed you roughly, with a groan of, “Belle,” against your lips as he slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders. It caught on the tops of your breasts, and you kissed him back hesitantly. “Take this off, amour.”

He kissed your neck wetly and began to suck on the skin there, and you were lost. Slipping your arms out of the confines of the bra, pulling it off your frame. You allowed him to slide your underwear down your legs, too, so that it pooled at your feet.

And then you were naked before him. Well and truly naked. He stopped kissing you, pulling away from you, panting. “Let me look at you.” When you lifted your arms up to block your breasts from view again, he grabbed your wrists. “No,” he said softly. “No. Tu m'appartiens maintenant.”

You found you quite liked the way French rolled off his tongue. Particularly the way he his mouth moved with every foreign syllable.

“What does that mean?” You asked, forcing your embarrassment at being so exposed from your mind.

He grinned. “It means you belong to me now.”

Yes, something deep inside of you whispered. I am yours.

And then you glanced down at his body for the first time, and…

No. No, this wasn’t going to work. It was not what you’d been expecting at all.

You have masterbated before, and it was indeed pleasurable. But that was two of your fingers, maybe three. Naturally, you’d assumed that a man would be about the same size (and therefore endurable) as your fingers.

Kyle was… Well. He most certainly wasn’t the same size as your fingers. In fact, he was about as thick as your wrist, or very nearly so, and seemed to be close to 7 inches.

Fuck.

This wouldn’t work. No, it certainly would not.

You looked back up at him, scoffing. He was taking a step towards you. You took one back. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you shook your head in response, earning a frown from your newfound partner.

“Nope,” you squeaked, taking another step back.

“Nope? Why ‘nope’?”

“If,” you began, “if that is what you plan on putting inside me, then I’m sorry to tell you, Kyle, but but there’s no fucking way”

He blinked at you in confusion. “Amour.” He said the pet name slowly, drawing out the syllables. “I promise you, it’s not impossible.”

“We can try, I guess,” you conceded, still inwardly skeptical.

Pushing past your worries, you tilted your head to the side, beckoning him back towards you. And when he pressed his body to yours, you felt it against your stomach.

Good god, but it felt even larger than it looked.

“I’ll prepare you,” Kyle promised, one of his hands resting on your hip. “You were made to take me.” He pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you were.” And then, he was murmuring French again. “Je vais te faire mendier pour ma bite.”

“What does that mean?” You gasped out as he trailed kisses up your neck and peppered your jaw with them.

He smirked against your skin.

“It means I’ll make you beg for my dick.”

You whimpered. “Let me make you scream for me,” he said huskily before kissing you again, even more fiercely than he had before.

“Ky,” you gasped out as he laved at your neck. “Kyle, please—“

“I will,” he promised, cupping your cheek and kissing you hungrily. “Spread your legs for me, mon amour.”

You pushed down your nervousness by force and did so, too absorbed in him to ask the meaning of what he’d said. Once your legs were spread, he slipped his hand between them and began to stroke you.

He groaned when his fingertips first brushed against you. “You’re so wet,” he said hoarsely. “God, you must want me as much as I want you.” You didn’t speak, because he was kissing you again. And then he brushed his fingers against your clit, and you knew it was over for you. Your resolve snapped.

He rubbed you with one hand and grasped your breast with the other, stroking your nipple.

A whimper forced its way out of your throat, and he chuckled against your lips. “Does it feel good?” He was still stroking you between your legs, sending sparks of pure electricity shooting through your veins, and the fingers caressing your breast had started to pinch your nipple lightly. “Tell me if it feels good,” he encouraged.

“It— it does,” You gasped out as he trailed kisses along your jaw.

“Je vais te baiser jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus bouger, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus respirer, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses penser à rien d'autre qu'à moi,” he murmured in your ear.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, “if you— if you’re going to speak French, you have to translate it.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He rubbed you a little bit faster, pinched your nipple a little bit harder. “I said I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move,” he told you lowly, “until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

He slid a finger inside of you, and it was insanely better than when you’d tried it on yourself. It was… it was divine. He pulled the finger out again, pumping it a few times and rubbing that spot with his thumb all the while.

A wet squelching sound filled the room that you were embarrassed by, but Kyle seemed to revel in it. “So wet for me,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and sliding another finger inside you.

You clutched at his shoulders, and your hips started to move against his hand. As soon as you became physically responsive, he lifted his head and kissed you desperately, his hand leaving your breast to cup your cheek as you practically rode his fingers.

You panted and whimpered, and when he saw you biting your lip in effort to keep quiet, he pulled your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb, stroking it.

“I want every part of you,” he whispered on an exhale. “I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t you dare hide them.”

Shutting your eyes tightly and letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thunk, you stopped trying to suppress your whimpers and cries of his name.

“Kyle, Kyle, ah, ah, Kyle—“

“I know, gentille fille,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“Oh, God, Kyle—“ you cried out.

“Trust me, beautiful. Let go.”

You were certain you were going to die. It felt as if he continued, you would die. It felt good, it felt incredible. You didn’t know how he was simply so good, but you were so grateful for it.

“Let go,” he said again, and you fisted a hand in his unruly hair, kissing him with a desperation you hadn’t known you’d had in you. His tongue brushed against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, yearning for him.

You were going to explode after all. This orgasm, it was building inside of you, and with it, your love for him was, too, and he kept thrusting his fingers into you, kept stroking you with his thumb, and you kissed him again, for fear you couldn’t contain the words within you, but then your head leaned back of its own accord.

“Kyle Kyle Kyle please, please don’t stop—“ you moaned loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

“I won’t,” he promised darkly. “Cum for me, amour.” You cried out again, and he leaned down and bit your neck. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me.”

“Ah ah ah, oh fuck, Kyle—“ You were sobbing now, and Kyle leaned down to suckle at your nipples, biting them gently. You practically screamed, and then you burst into starlight, and as you did, something emerged from you that you couldn’t have contained no matter how hard you tried.

“Ky,” you were sobbing.

“I know,” he murmured against your breast.

“Kyle, I love you, please, I— I love you, I love you I love you I love you, Fuck, Kyle, ah!” He froze when he heard you say it, but you were already clenching around his fingers, your body convulsing.

He pulled back from you and removed his fingers from within you, still in shock.

“Really?” He finally murmured, tilting your chin up softly. His hazel eyes gazing back into yours.

“Yeah,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “Yeah.” You repeated louder, a smile tugging at your lips.

And they lived happily ever after blah blah blah

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