#i know no one's gonna care about this now that there's an actual performance but. here it is lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munson-blurbs · 5 months

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Eddie Munson x Shy!Reader

Summary: Max and Lucas are tired of their friends silently pining over each other but never making a move, so when the Winter Formal rolls around, they take matters into their own hands.

Warnings: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluffy fluff

WC: 1.8k

A/N: Happy anniversary to the love of my life, @corroded-hellfire 💚 one year ago today, we met in person for the first time, and my life has been infinitely better ever since. Thank you for being my best friend. I love you more than Dustin loves his Weird Al shirt. Red, this fic is for you.

Divider credit to @saradika

“Kill me now.”

Three words uttered by none other than Max Mayfield, sliding her lunch tray onto the table and sitting down with an irritated sigh.

You look at her with an amused grin. “What is it this time? Bombed a pop quiz? Got detention for flipping off a teacher—again?” Her brazen, flippant attitude provided many entertaining moments, so long as you weren’t on the receiving end of it.

Max shakes her head, spearing a limp macaroni noodle with her plastic fork. “I wish.” She holds up two tickets to the Winter Formal. “Lucas is dragging me to this bullshit. ‘All the other basketball guys’ girlfriends are going,’” she mocks him in an octave much lower than his actual voice, “so I guess that means I have to follow suit.”

Bringing a hand to your heart, you jut out your lower lip in mock-pity. “Oh, no; your boyfriend wants to show you off at a school dance! How will you ever survive?”

Max doesn’t miss a beat. “You could go, too,” she says, blue eyes pleading. “Keep me company when the guys inevitably bail to get wasted in the woods.”

“I don’t—”

“You don’t need a date,” she insists, reading your mind before the words can leave your mouth. “I’m telling you, Lucas is gonna ditch me as soon as Jason and Patrick show up.” She takes your hand between both of hers. “Please? I’ll even tell Ms. Kelly the lengths you went to for your poor, troubled freshie.”

You exhale, knowing that she doesn’t need to go to all of that trouble. You’d started off the school year as her peer mentor, but just a few months later, you two have become close friends. “Fine, I’ll go,” you acquiesce, laughing when she pumps her fists victoriously. “But I’m not gonna be happy about it.”

You return to your own lunch, completely missing the mischievous look that graces her freckled face.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar discussion is had at Hellfire Club later that same afternoon.

“Absolutely not,” Eddie scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. “Nice try, Sinclair, but I wouldn’t be caught dead at some lame dance.”

“Seriously,” Jeff smirks from his position across the table. “He’s never been to a single one in his ten years of high school.”

Eddie flips him off casually. “It’s only six, asshole. But that doesn’t matter, because I’m not dressing up in some penguin suit to drink unspiked punch with a bunch of shitty people.”

“C’mon, dude,” Lucas says, his tone bordering on a whine. “If you don’t go, I’m gonna be stuck with the jocks all night, and they just wanna suck face with their girlfriends.”

“And you don’t?” Gareth quips.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Not in front of everyone. And I don’t need a front-row seat to their performances, either.” He turns his attention back to the Dungeon Master. “Look, I’m desperate. Mike’ll be visiting his grandma and Dustin’s grounded because of his D-plus in Spanish.”

Eddie narrows his eyes. “What about Huey, Dewey, and Louie over here?” he asks, gesturing to the three remaining club members.

Their collective responses are jumbled excuses; Eddie swears one of them says he’s going kayaking—in mid-December in Indiana—but he doesn’t bother to sift through their lies. “You owe me, Sinclair,” he declares, pointing his forefinger at the underclassman. “Big time.”

The next few weeks leading up to the Winter Formal are spent meticulously making plans. For someone who seemed so disinterested in this dance, Max is paying careful attention to each detail.

You walk out of the dressing room in a velvet emerald green dress that hits just above the knee. Max is beaming as she adjusts the off-the-shoulder sleeves and smooths down any creases.

“You look really nice,” she says, nodding her head. She’s trying to temper her enthusiasm, but you can sense her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Lucas.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Lucas? Why would he care?” He’s a nice kid—more in tune with emotions than the average fourteen-year-old boy—but that doesn’t constitute an interest in your fashion choices.

Max’s cheeks burn as red as her hair. “Uh, well, seeing you happy makes me happy, and seeing me happy makes him happy, so…everyone’s happy?” she finishes lamely. She clears her throat as if expelling the awkwardness from the conversation. “Anyway, let’s buy this dress so we can look for shoes.”

“Yeah, okay.” You’re not fully convinced, but you brush it off and steel your nerves to ask a question. “Is anyone else gonna be there that we know?” You really want to know whether Eddie Munson is going to be there, but you can’t say the quiet part aloud.

“Probably,” she shrugs, a bit too quickly, but she’s pushing you back behind the curtain to change before you can inquire more.

“Why does this stupid tie need to be green?” Eddie asks, sifting through the store’s selection with Lucas by his side.

“Uh, Christmas colors,” Lucas stammers, fumbling for a decent explanation other than the contents of his secret phone call with Max earlier today. “And, y’know, red is way overdone, so…” he trails off lamely, going back to the display table and hoping Eddie drops the matter.

They find exactly what they’re looking for—not without Eddie complaining about putting in too much effort just to be a third wheel—and make their way over to the food court. Eddie makes a beeline for the Pizza Hut when he stops dead in his tracks. “Shit, Sinclair; we gotta go,” he says urgently, clapping a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and steering him away from the fast food.

“What the hell? I’m hungry!”

Eddie shakes his head, curls brushing against his shoulders. “Look, man.” He discreetly points to his left, where you and Max are giggling at the Orange Julius. “We can’t let them see us.”

“Dude, she’s like the nicest person ever,” Lucas rebuts. “Even Max likes her, and Max pretty much hates everyone.”

“That’s not the problem.” Eddie rakes his ringed fingers through his hair, wincing when he snags one on a knot. “The problem is that she’s gonna be all, ‘hi, Eddie; what’re you doing at the mall?’ And I’m gonna be all, ‘just picking out a tie for the Winter Formal.” And then she’ll go, ‘oh, who’s your date?” And then I’ll have to say, ‘I don’t have one; I’m just playing babysitter to some freshmen like a goddamn loser!” He hops back and forth to indicate each character change.

“First of all, ouch,” Lucas quips, “second, go hide in the bathroom if you want, but I’m getting something to eat.”

Eddie exhales an exasperated sigh, giving in and schlepping over to Pizza Hut, one of the few times in his life that he’s trying to be inconspicuous.

You pull into the school parking lot on the night of the Winter Formal and shift into park before killing the engine. Max is bouncing her leg up and down in the passenger seat, lower lip tucked between her teeth.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, mistaking her excitement for anxiety. “You know that Lucas would think you look beautiful even if you showed up in a potato sack.” You furrow your brow. “Where is he, anyway? Why didn’t he come with us?”

She mumbles something about not wanting her mom to ask any questions about the relationship, and you take them at face value. Her eyes light up when she spots her boyfriend walking into the school alongside…Eddie Munson?

“Eddie’s here?” you ask in a hushed whisper, feeling sweat prickling under your arms. You’ve been nursing a massive crush on him for ages–one that Max is very much aware of. And now he’s here, dressed in a black suit with his hair pulled back into a low bun at the nape of his neck. “Max, why didn’t you tell me? Who’s he going with?” The idea of him slow dancing with someone else has your stomach turning.

Max just shrugs. “I don’t think he had a date.” Too casual, too blasé–she knows something. “C’mon, let’s go in.” She swings the car door open enthusiastically, leaving you shell-shocked in your seat.

“Maxine Mayfield!” you hiss, using her full government name to drive home your bewilderment, but she just skips ahead. Damn your heeled shoes, slowing you down before you can catch up to her. When you finally do, she just grabs your hand and tugs you towards the guys.

She poorly feigns surprise, jaw dropping as she exclaims, “Eddie? What are you doing here? Oh, my gosh, this is such a coincidence!” She pulls you closer, smiling far too wide. “Lucas and I both brought our upperclassmen friends! What are the odds?”

“Yeah, so weird,” Lucas says, not as loud as Max but just as transparent. He looks at Max before regarding you and Eddie. “Okay, well, we’re gonna go dance–bye!” The two of them scamper off, leaving you alone with Eddie. If their stilted dialogue wasn’t evidence enough, the way Eddie’s tie perfectly matches your dress certainly clears up their intentions.

Eddie speaks first, shoving his hands in his pants pockets and nervously swiveling his body. “I, uh, think we’ve been set up,” he says with a small, awkward chuckle. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Not–not that it’s a bad thing, I just meant, like, if you’re uncomfortable with this, I don’t wanna be held responsible.” His cheeks burn red. “Shit, I need to stop talking.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him with your own kind laugh, “we might as well make the most of it. Get some punch and make fools of ourselves out there?” You gesture towards the gym’s makeshift dance floor; the band has just started playing Journey’s “Faithfully.” Eddie’s nods, following you to an empty space, and you timidly drape your arms over his shoulders. Taking care to avoid an inappropriate touch, he rests his palms on the small of your back.

His voice is low when he murmurs in your ear, “you look really beautiful tonight.” He clears his throat and speaks again. “You always look really beautiful, though.”

The two of you sway to the music, swapping shy smiles and fleeting but longing glances. As the song ends, you look over your shoulder. “We’re being spied on,” you report, noting the way the two younger kids are watching you from across the room. You consider your next words before eventually deciding to go for it: “Did you talk to Lucas about me as much as I talked to Max about you?”

“Probably more,” Eddie laughs, bringing you a bit closer. “But I’m interested in comparing notes.”

You nod, staving off any lingering nerves. “Maybe after the dance, we can split a burger from Benny’s and discuss?”

Eddie presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Yeah,” he says; you can feel his lips move against your skin, “I’d like that.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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usedpidemo · 2 months

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More than you know (Nmixx Haewon)

“Miss Haewon, please see me after class hours later. I would like to talk to you.”

There it is. A rather predictable bookend to another dull lecture. She saw it coming from the moment she walked into the classroom.

She absolutely loathes hearing it.

Despite the comically indignant scowl she shoots you on the way out—and the mocking jeers from her friends that elicit embarrassment—by the time the final bell rings, she couldn’t wait to see you later on.

You’re excited, too—but for all the wrong reasons.

She’s the only thing keeping your passion for teaching alive.

—————

For the record, Haewon is not a bad student, not in the slightest. If anything, she’s par for the course. She’s not gonna be some summa cum laude, but she isn’t a sorry case, either. And that’s been the pattern with your students for years. They only care enough just to get by. Haewon is the most clear-cut example you can refer to.

Based on the rather intriguing stares she shoots at you, you’d be tricked into believing she’s actually interested enough in improving her future performance in class. Peeking through the laptop, catching glimpses of everyone’s grades. Her name is highlighted on the document, and the scores consist primarily of mid-eighties with some low-nineties. Clearly she’s nowhere close to a flunk or a future dropout.

Better than the high seventies and low eighties that the rest of your class averages.

“Sir, how many times do we need to go over this. I’m doing well for myself,” she remarks, giving you a look that says I told you so. The evidence is right in front of you, written in bold. “C’mon sir. Just let me go early today.”

And that’s when you make your first of many mistakes—feeding her the attention she craves. Where’s this energy when it comes to your lectures, you wonder?

Before you even entertain the thought, the scene has already gone completely sideways. Here’s a student with zero regard for following rules, and you’ve experienced your fair share of troublemakers. She’s sitting on the desk, pale skin in plain view from the off shoulder cropped sweatshirt that barely qualifies for the dress code. You’re looking—and she’s keenly noticing.

“Maybe another time, sir?” Haewon reads your mind like an open book. She’s purposely dressing improperly for two reasons: to piss off the higher-ups who hate her guts, and to make it easier for you to rip through her clothes. “I’ve got dance practice with the theater girls and I’m running late.”

“Well for one, you can drop the honorifics,” you reply, plainly, in a particularly weak effort to change the conversation. The attention you give her is short-lived; your focus returns to the unanswered emails and grades you need to fill. “Class hours are done for the day.”

It’s evidently not the response she wanted, because her arms are crossed and she’s pouting. You have to admit, she looks cute acting like that, revealing clothes be damned.

“Sir.” Haewon drawls out into a groan, bothered by the monotony of waiting when she has places to be. She won’t go as far as to knock your laptop down, but she’s considering it as a last resort. “You’re being a bitch right now.”

Anyone else in her position would get it—a verbal lashing that would get your teaching license rescinded and take you to court, but Haewon is the epitome of getting away with murder. You have no idea how she does it—how she manages to escape mostly unscathed from punishment. Even now while you drum on the keyboard, because you’re allowing her to call you a bitch without consequence.

Maybe because you like her more than you would openly admit.

She sighs. It’s a defeatist tone. A few moments later, you close your laptop and she perks up.

“Take a seat. I do want to talk to you about something important,” you tell her, knowing one hundred percent certain she’s not getting off your desk.

Haewon can’t help herself to a snarky comment. “Damn. Finally.”

By every conceivable account, this should be awkward, if not outright wrong. She’s still an undergrad, you tell yourself, staring into her sharp, alluring eyes. For as rebellious and as unruly as Haewon acts, she still listens to you. Hell, you’re the only professor she bothers to attend classes regularly for. She’d tell you she cares in her own twisted way. Look at how she dresses, for one. Your thoughts consist of mainly her in some cumbersome position, her lips letting out these desperate, heavy gasps. Your hands squeezing her taut breasts; the way her shirt accentuates the curves of her chest drives your imagination wild. You can spend all day planning how you intend to fuck her—

“Sir, you’re staring again.” A snap back to the present, where she’s grinning and leaning close to your face. So pretty. “I get it—I’m hot, but we’re on borrowed time, sir.”

“Right. I honestly forgot what I was gonna tell you,” you mindlessly drawl, searching through your desk for something. Something to temporarily distract you from the inevitability of the end. The rest of your paperwork lies unattended in the faculty room, you remember, but you’re not gonna step foot inside that place—not when the other professors are still around. Time is money. “But it’s definitely not your grades, that’s for certain.”

“What’s it about, then?” Her eyes continue to follow your every move.

You place a folded sheet of paper between you. She grabs it and reads through the brief content. The response is concerning.

“You’re leaving?” Haewon turns to you, stunned and gobsmacked. A rare expression coming from someone who’s usually indifferent toward everything and everyone.

Genuinely, you have no idea how to explain yourself. You had this all planned out since the beginning of the year; these two semesters will be your last, you were completely certain. You could have told anyone in the faculty. They’re decent people—as decent as they can be during the few times you actually interact with them—but they were merely coworkers and nothing more. You could have told your wife, who just so happens to be a fellow professor and colleague, but she’s one of the reasons why you’re leaving in the first place.

Word spreads like wildfire around campus, so you know to be careful, but this is straight recklessness. You call it mutual trust.

“Been thinking about it for a while,” you say, rather quietly, trying your hardest not to look her way.

“Let me guess,” she says, breaking the pretense of sympathy and concern for her usual caustic tone. “No one cares about your shitty class?”

You’re not remotely bothered by her comment, even if she’s speaking the truth. Though she could have used a nicer word besides shitty. “Part of it, yeah.”

“I seriously don’t understand why there’s gotta be a religious unit for a business degree,” she adds, fascinated by her own question. Even more so than listening to your lectures. “I don’t get it.”

“I don’t get it either.” Truthfully, you seriously question why you’re even teaching here to begin with.

You’re employed by one of the top universities in the country; every parent would sacrifice everything just for their children to study here. It pays well by teaching standards, but the bar is in hell. Despite the prestige, the overall experience is no different than your time in public high school. Most of the students who do attend come from rich backgrounds; people who use the place as a dick measuring contest to see who is the richer person. These entitled scholars who are always on their phone—one of their many phones—and cheat to get ahead.

It happens so often on the regular that you eventually stopped caring.

“Hmm,” Haewon thinks to herself, running through every piece of information she has to weaponize against you. She knows you better than anyone, mainly because you share personal life details like they’re the daily newspaper. Not to mention the very reason she comes to the classroom in the afternoons: you.

Then she comes to a rather off the wall conclusion. “It’s Miss Myoui, isn’t it?”

You squint your eyes. Haewon glints up. A small opening.

After a brief pause, she piles on, smirking. “Did I touch a nerve? Poor you,” she says, shooting you a mocking pout that you mostly ignore. “I guess you haven’t had some good pussy in a while. I mean, there’s no reason for me to be here other than the fact that Miss Myoui isn’t letting you clap her ass. Maybe the rumors are true then—”

Before she continues to spill more information that anyone shouldn’t be allowed to know, you fire back with a sharp glare. She cheekily grins. By ignoring the flashing red light right in front of you, you’re purposefully walking towards your own downfall. It’s a trap; you know this. You know Haewon more than any other student. All her little tricks, all her crafty schemes.

God, you can already see how this is gonna end.

“So I’m right?” Haewon tilts her head, leaning slightly forward. Her smug expression, word choice, and mocking tone tests your patience—including your blood levels—and you’re failing by the minute. “Trouble at home?”

Your response? Nothing. Going word for word with her ultimately results in a losing effort; previous conversations with her leave you more tongue tied and in a rut by the end. Haewon is so natural at getting under people’s skin. It’s what she gets off on—wrapping professors and superiors around her finger with her mouth. And more often than not, she’s charismatic and charming enough that it’s entertaining, but no one wants to openly admit it except you.

It’s how she’s able to read you like an open book. Let personal information slip so seamlessly. The numerous discussions regarding her underperformance in class lead into intimate sessions where you and Haewon become more acquainted with each other. A little too comfortable at times, but you can see where and why she acts the way she does. And you had come to the conclusion that you can’t fix her. Many have tried—and failed. She does whatever she wants, and she’ll end up getting away with it.

You slide your laptop aside, ready to dance with the devil, going against everything you swore against. “Mmm—not quite, but you’re halfway there.”

Haewon smiles and her eyes flutter. Not in a patronizing, condescending way, but the sweet kind. Genuine. The soft side she’ll only let you see. “Miss Myoui not letting you clap, sir?”

“She does,” you say, dour. And I already told you class hours are done. Please don’t call me sir.”

“Right. Sir.” Haewon’s playful tone trails off with that loathsome word. She can’t help but smirk; it’s second nature to her. She’ll claim that you fell for that bait, but that was deliberate, you’ll say—even if she refuses to believe you.

After a brief impasse, “So—sir,” she follows, using her eyebrows and cadence to tease, her hands on the edge of her pants, teasing some underwear, “You need to fuck me again? Now? Is Miss Myoui not letting you have some lately?”

Turning your gaze away and to the desk, “About Mina,” you reply, drumming your fingers on the table, deep in thought, “I’m planning to divorce her soon.”

“Huh?” Her eyes shoot wide, her expression rather surprised at the sudden revelation. You’d think by how she teases you about your wife, she’d have a much more subdued reaction. Considering she knows facets of your rather strange relationship with Mina. “Well, I would tell you’d be fumbling big time, but you should know—”

“She’s cheating on me. I know.”

Now she’s genuinely shocked, completely caught unaware. She’d assume you to be particularly naive and clueless about campus rumblings, especially since she’d never see you outside of the classroom and in the faculty room. “Well damn. I honestly thought you didn’t know.”

“Can’t say it would be the first time I’ve heard about it,” you say, turning to face her again, cold and gloomy. Pointing your finger at her, “And before you say anything, no, I didn’t catch her getting eaten out in the faculty room.”

You say that with the utmost sincerity—and sarcasm.

Haewon hesitates, before answering, rather “I figured.” She understands that your poor eyes have seen some things you shouldn’t be seeing.

Truthfully, you’re amazed she hasn’t brought up the subject a lot earlier. Since the end of the previous academic year, you’ve noticed Mina’s sudden changes in behavior. She’s sending more text messages telling you she’ll arrive home later than usual, the frequent faculty outings she chooses to attend, the cancellation of plans scheduled months in advance—the biggest of which, a dinner date at a particularly expensive five-star restaurant on the other side of town that has a notorious 18 month waitlist that you miraculously booked for your anniversary. And that was five months ago.

People change, but Mina is an entirely different person to you now. You can hardly recognize her.

“I guess I should say I’m sorry for what happened,” Haewon says, pretty modest and empathetic in tone, but even during serious moments, she can’t help but remark, “But you were kind of loser material for a woman like her.”

You can only stare back, annoyed. She chuckles, heartily. Seeing your animated, cartoonish expressions only serves to amuse her even further and fuel her addiction of teasing you.

“Ah, I fucking love you, sir. You’re my favorite professor for this reason.” In an instant, the somber facade falls apart and she’s back to being her usual coy self.

“Among other things?” you question.

“Such as?” Haewon looks confused. It’s a bluff; you’re calling it now. “Such as what, sir?”

Placing a hand on her knee, you’re creating friction so intense that her mouth goes agape and her breaths grow heavier. “Such as the fact that no one eats you out better than I do,” you reply, inflection transitioning from formal to low.

“Oh?” She doesn’t believe what’s happening to you. “Sir,” her cadence dances in such a melodic and sultry way it’s gonna ruin you faster than anything she’s done so far. “You have no evidence to prove—”

Suddenly, Haewon goes tongue tied, unable to finish her sentence. That’s a first. And you didn’t need to lift a finger or use your voice. Your other hand finds solace around her toned waist, exploring her tummy, and it’s thankfully not restricted by any layer of clothing. So much pristine skin to claim as yours, you begin to lose your restraint—and there isn’t much left to begin with.

“I can take you to the faculty room and show you,” you mumble against her belly, the cold breath tickling her flesh that she trembles. Haewon’s senses float off, her vision growing dark as her hands impulsively latch onto your shoulders. In return, you peck her navel, her abs, until you reach her abdomen, a hair’s breadth away from her chest. Between kisses, you continue to feed into her want, “Or I can give you an example right now.”

“Please,” Haewon finds enough clarity to cup your face up and meet her in a lengthy passionate liplock. This is what she wanted from the start. “Indulge me, sir.”

The only thing keeping you two apart is the laptop dangling on the opposite side of the table, almost pushed aside while you were making out. You quickly place it on a random desk before closing the two classroom door curtains.

When you return to Haewon, she’s sitting atop your desk, playfully swinging her legs, smiling modestly. It’s only now that you recognize how pretty she looks. But behind that meek appearance is a demon, a temptress that only sees you as a conduit for pleasure. In her eyes, the only purpose you have to give is sex, and nothing more.

So push your chair forward when you sit down. Haewon’s legs are already spread wide, but the pants remain on them. She doesn’t like to do it herself.

“Won’t give me a cheating discount?” you say, looking up at her coy grin, placing your hands around the hem of her trousers.

“Technically—” she trails off, kissing you, “You’re cheating on her with me, sir.” Followed by another. Each one deeper, more intimate than the last. “Don’t act all innocent now, especially when we’ve been doing this for months.”

Then, Haewon consumes you—as in, devours you. Grabs you and makes out with you with a passion you wish she’d present during class hours. You’d be content to remain in this position for the rest of the day, even if the clothes never come off; he’s so passionate and fervent that it’s intoxicating. But it’s all planned. Elaborate. You’re familiar with her more than you ever want to be: how she loves to unbutton your shirt while kissing you, how she mumbles and hums softly against your mouth, how she whispers desires that end up becoming realized after the foreplay. In reality, she’s the one dictating the pace, the one calling all the shots, and you’re merely an instrument she uses to indulge herself.

And she wants it: everywhere, in every position—something you find too much to handle, and she’s already quite the handful. But it’s merely a delay of the inevitable; you’re going to fuck Haewon, you’re gonna pour all your cum inside her, and you can figure out the rest the morning after.

More often than not, your shirt ends up unbuttoned, but not completely undone. One of two layers keeping your impulsive desires in check. As you work Haewon’s pants down her legs, most of your lesser instincts are shown in full display. It takes almost tearing your own fingers off your very hands not to rip through her panties. Meanwhile, she’s lounging on the desk, enjoying the sight of you reverting back to something primal.

The way you fondle her creamy thighs, never finding their beginning and end, is like beholding a sculpture crafted by the gods. They’re meant to be worshiped, to be handled reverently.

And Haewon guides you through the process, commanding you like she has authority over you. Titles do not matter—they never have. “Keep going,” she says, as you leave delicate kiss marks down her thighs, slowly burying yourself into the inviting presence of her pussy. Peeking through the near-nonexistent layer of fabric, she shifts the lift of her legs, perching on your shoulders as she forces you into her suffocating warmth.

“Show me,” she gasps, brushing your hair with her hand, and that’s what sets the rest into motion.

Her legs clutch you into a breathless hold. God, she’s killing you slowly, and you don’t mind it one bit. At this point, you have nothing to lose. You might as well treat this as your last supper, your final meal before you have to say goodbye. She can strangle you with her thighs while you drag your tongue up and down her folds, suck on her clit, take in all her nectar—it doesn’t change the fact that Haewon is gonna fucking end you.

You might as well repay the favor.

And despite throwing caution to the wind, Haewon appears unprepared. Dazed and confused by the overwhelming sensation burning through her nerves, she trembles—and moans. She couldn’t be any less subtle if she tried; hearing her hit notes you never thought she’s capable of hitting only serves to be a minor distraction from her pulsating heat. You’re relentless, slowly picking away at her senses, at her sensitive cunt, knowing that no one can eat her out as well as you do.

“S-sir.” Haewon can only muster up a single word before her mouth fills the room with nothing but air.

Deep down, you despise the rather obstructive yet comfortable position you’re in. Your tongue brushes against Haewon’s folds, going back and forth to taste of her warmth and her clit. The rest of her frame lays atop the desk, trembling, unable to keep herself steady under your grip. She’s lost you somewhere in between, clinging onto the edges of the table for support. You can only imagine her jaw agape, her expressions twisting in pleasure, wriggling and tossing her head around as she aimlessly tries to find some semblance of control.

Her mouth is the only tool she can use to make some sense of this overwhelming bliss. And even that doesn’t amount to much. ‘Shit,’ ‘so good,’ ‘don’t stop—’ these are only some of the things she groans out as you trap her in a whirlpool of her own ecstasy. It’s still not enough. You want to prove her wrong; you want to remind her what’s important, and the only way you can make sure she truly understands if she fucking cums all over your face.

So while Haewon writhes and makes a damn mess of your desk, you continue to feast on her pretty cunt. She’s making sure every person in the building knows how good your tongue is, and it’s in character with how unabashedly shameless she behaves in front of everyone. Her legs kick sharply against your chair, so you end up where you were supposed to be from the beginning—on your knees. And yet it doesn’t deter you; if anything, you grow more attached to her pussy, savoring every taste and drop, taking piece of every little part of her as yours.

You can’t wait to explore the rest of her body and claim it as yours. On the off chance you’re able to rip her shirt off, your hands roam her tight, lithe figure. You’re met by layers of fabric, frustrated at the inability to grab her breasts in their natural form. She grabs you by the wrists; it’s a miracle she’s able to feel you through the waves crushing her to the desk. You suck on her clit hard. She lets out this guttural moan that sounds violent in nature, like you’re hurting her, when you’re actually doing the exact opposite.

And it’s how you play off each other for the most part. Your need to get Haewon naked is only matched by her desperation to cum. She doesn’t need to tell you directly how much she wants to. Her hands guide you beneath her shirt, and you press on the underside of her boobs in appreciation. You’re playing a dangerous game; you have no intention of letting go.

Surprisingly, Haewon holds up well. One look and it might appear that she’s a complete wreck: how her body trembles unceasingly, how she has half her shirt lifted to give you a better view of her chest for when you eventually come up for air, how helpless she is at even the slightest touch. You made her like this. It’s a habit she’s used to by now; she’s learned that a figure like hers is meant to be admired, to be used.

Before you grow comfortable with the habit, the idea that you can eat her out on the desk for hours, Haewon cums.

She keens and shudders through her surprise orgasm. It’s aligned with her playful nature to cum without your knowing, even though the signs were there all along. Your tongue works through the torrent of fluid, then the wave of slick that you drink up. Lap whatever your satiated bud allows. You can see remnants of her climax spill down the desk and to the floor, to her pants.

Even now, you’re still learning something new about your students. For one, you never knew Haewon squirts.

The wet desk would make for a perfect reference picture for when she questions your legitimacy again—but you have better ways of explaining yourself.

You give Haewon no reprieve; she mewls and whimpers as you lick her folds clean, till you settle into soft, gentle kisses. The situation is all sorts of fucked; she has places to be and friends to meet, but you have her on top of your desk, keening after eating her out and making her cum without a care. It’s gonna take an essay's worth of explaining the glaringly wet patches on her clothes and deep red marks over her skin.

Truthfully, she’d rather be with you than with her overbearing friends—but you won’t hear it directly from her lips.

Speaking of, you hear a phone ring. Haewon cranes her neck in the direction of her bag. “Sir, I need my phone.” She huffs, gasping for air, each word spaced out between deep breaths.

Regretfully, it takes every bit of your resolve to release your tongue from her warm cunt. You rummage through her bag and hand the phone over to her. It’s about picking up the pieces now, salvaging whatever you can make of the mess you made, albeit there’s hardly anything to save, even yourself.

“Don’t.” Haewon uses her loose toes to point at you, shifting herself into a sitting position on the desk. You’re halfway done with the first button on your shirt when she stops you. She’s tapping through her phone, texting some bullshit excuse to her friends. Knowing her, they’re most likely no better than her; they might be playing into your little secret, too. All it takes is one person, one word of mouth, before information spreads around like wildfire.

Like everything else about her, you had mostly left it up to interpretation. Forcing details out of Haewon is a near-impossible task. You were never really a good negotiator. The deal usually ends up like this: her panties for a bonus in her grades, her lips for a signed excuse letter, and if she was really in the mood, her pussy for a cheat sheet. Sometimes,

She sets her phone aside on the desk, hopping off the table to lay her hands on your exposed chest. Momentarily kissing you, she whispers, “Sir, I told them I would be a little late today. You should know better by now.”

Her fingers wring around the collar of your button up shirt, eyes ablaze with reinvigorated lust, lips curled in a pleasant smile. You’re so enamored with her, it drives you crazy. Even when she pushes you onto your chair, even when she rips the already undone shirt off your body, all you can do is pay attention to the stars in her eyes. Her warm, wanton gaze—both charming and alluring in all the right ways. She knows how to use every part of herself to near perfection.

The rest of your clothes couldn’t come off any faster. Your pants and boxers pool around your ankles, followed shortly by a dark cropped sweatshirt. You’re not given any time to savor the perfection that is Haewon’s naked figure; she’s straddled on your lap, stroking your hard cock with a delicate grip. She smirks, and she has every right to look smug. You’re left breathless, under pressure; if only you can see yourself in the mirror and see how needy you look, and the utter control Haewon has over you.

And you allow her; this is her specialty, this is what she’s built for—to fucking end you.

If your words allow you, you’d command her to get on her knees, suck your cock and take a warm load all over her face; this is the ideal position to make the move. But you can’t. Not when you’re missing the point.

Haewon is on the edge of your lap, running her hand around your cock, gathering spurts of precum on her nails and finger pads. She’s still winded from before, slow in her movements. The naughty look she gives your body never grows old.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a question,” she starts, looking down at the little mess she’s making on your thigh. You’re too overwhelmed to breathe, let alone say a word.

“Be honest with me. I’m being serious for once.”

And she sounds like she means it. You gulp your throat as you enter the unknown.

Her eyes flicker up to meet yours, her expression deep in thought, something she’s not usually seen doing. And you feel the heat gradually building on your lap, but you’re paralyzed by anxiety for the sensation to register. She runs the other hand through hair to take a good luck at you: your rather sweaty face, somewhere between pleasure and tense.

“Tell me,” she sighs, running a hand down your shoulder to your elbow, before continuing, “Am I the best student you’ve ever fucked?”

“Yes.” The word comes out involuntarily, as if it were muscle memory. Like your body knows, and it knows itself better than anyone or anything else.

It draws a piqued reaction from Haewon. She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “And what about Yoona?”

“And what about her?”

A reply you end up regretting almost immediately. Haewon doesn’t take bullshit for an answer, as evident by the cold, dour stare on her face. If there’s anyone who knows the ins and outs of university, it’s her.

It doesn’t take long for you to cave in. “She’s so tight,” you admit, sounding like a guilty criminal being interrogated. “But you’re still the best, I swear.”

“And what about Yuna? That exchange student Lily? Miss Minatozaki? You say that to just about anyone.”

In an instant, she goes from curious and passionate to downright frightening. It’s not supposed to be like this; normally it’s you who has the authority. Haewon can go on and on for hours if she wanted to. She has all the leverage, all the evidence, all the power to cause the end of everything, your life included. But she only wants one thing: the truth.

“They’re nothing compared to you. Promise. You’re still my favorite student.”

To a certain extent, you’re right; Haewon is your favorite, but for all for the wrong reasons. It has nothing to do with teaching her anything other than being a good toy, because deep down, she’s about as irredeemable as your peers make her out to be. Really, it’s about using her body, fucking her, pushing her to the absolute limits—anything to get your mind out of the numbing, monotonous work of being an actual professor. There are many good girls in class, including the names she mentions in passing, but this is a stark reminder that Haewon is yours, and you belong to Haewon.

“Then show me.”

And to drive the point even further, she sinks down on your lap, pressing her weight on your crotch—until her pussy meets your cock and you both disappear into the sea of pleasure again.

Haewon throws her head back, and she’s never looked more vulnerable, not even when you had her laid out on the desk. All this flesh and body to claim, and you have no clue where to begin. But that’s the least of your problems when she begins to glide up and down, rocking your lap with slow, agonizing thrusts. You end up blanking out and caring about the friction in your hips instead.

The slip of your cock in and out of her pussy when she rides you. Your palms press against her waist while you watch her slowly come undone: the moans, curses, and every sound in between, the rapidly twisting expressions, the hypnotic jiggle of her chest. Soon, you find a steady rhythm to match, and everything becomes effortless. Both of you pushing and pulling against each other’s bodies in an effort to get deeper. You forget you’re a professor and her a student, only two souls in need of sex during some trying times in your lives.

In a way, you’re both meant to be. Fate is a strange entity.

Then Haewon regains some clarity, enough to be kissing you, moaning directly in your ear, demanding your gaze. Even when her hole swallows your cock, she still wants your attention. And even while you have it so deep in her cunt that she’s mewling, struggling for oxygen, she manages to form a coherent sentence.

“Tell me I’m the tightest. Tell me I have the best pussy you ever fucked.”

God, she’s so fucking tight you can’t fully comprehend it. Perhaps even more, and you’re used to using her. Maybe it’s all that pent-up frustration toward your dead end job, toward Mina, that makes her clench tighter. That’s now how pussy works; you’re just stretching her out really hard, but you have nothing sensible to conclude with. What you can tell, however, is that you needed this—and you needed it badly.

You’re thankful you closed off the doors and curtains to the classroom, because the last thing anyone needs to see and hear is the sight of Haewon riding you while you both moan about how good the other feels.

“Love this pussy,” you murmur, breathing against her collarbone, wanting a taste of her taut nipple. She has you in a tight bearhug that binds your hands around her waist. “Fuck—so—fucking—tight—the best—”

And that’s all she needed to hear. Every word—every sound—slips from her lips like it hurts, but she’s in total bliss. She moves her hips against the roll of your cock with deep emphasis, like fitting puzzle pieces together, and it sends you. You’re left even more breathless, more in awe at how fucking well Haewon takes your length. As if it was always meant for her.

Curses and praise aside, she’s never one to talk during sex. But then she makes the faintest comment about how your cock fits so snug inside her, and you honestly just lose it.

Once in a while, a certain inquiry is brought up. What’s your favorite thing about me, Haewon asks, when it’s supposed to be the opposite. You’re supposed to give out this very question to your students as a way to improve your teaching style and maybe come off as an approachable authority figure. As expected, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest. She then would suddenly come to you at the most random of times with this particular question, and you’d be preoccupied with numerous things—home life, school activities, the usual—to find an answer.

But right there, right as you spear deep into her tight, needy cunt, is where you figure it all out. It’s all in the little details. Your hand going up and down her arched back. The squelching of her pussy against your cock. The furious sound of your flesh slapping against hers. Her loose, shrilly whines while you bury your face between her chest, begging you harder. Her hands tangled with your hair and nape. All that while she’s bouncing on your lap at such a feverish pace; she’s going to break the chair you’re sitting on.

Before you know it, your tongue has traveled all over the most sensitive parts of her body: nipples, neck, and even pits.

Everything about Haewon is so ridiculous, you can’t believe how much of a challenge she has been for the longest time that you’ve forgotten how easily she folds. Like she’s meant to be used.

But no punishment is suitable enough; no amount of discipline can change her. If anything, it only fuels her goal to thread the needle even further.

“Gonna fucking cum, Haewon,” you hiss against her ear, blurring the line between kissing and biting her collarbone. Using all the strength in your hips, you have her legs spread as wide as they can over the chair, over your thighs. The squirt she releases as she crashes on your lap serves to fan the flames in your cock even brighter. It’s all but inevitable that you’ll pour it all inside her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

If you had any semblance of a spine, you’d never let her hear the end of it. The idea that her pussy isn’t getting its fair share of seed disgusts her. She needs to learn what boundaries are, and how not to cross said lines. At least there’s one lesson you can impart on her before you split, but you’ll save that for another day, because you cum.

You fuck Haewon so hard, she turns into mush that melts in your grasp. Forget the guttural groan you made; the aftermath is alarming. Her pussy drips with a huge load pooling on the chair and trickling down her thighs. You make sure you bury yourself to the hilt and unload inside her. The evidence is undeniable; from the smell to the sight of clothes and cum, there’s no concealing it—if there was even anything to hide, because your salacious activity could easily be heard anywhere in the building.

And lost in the madness is your train of thought; your body is reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you simply idle. Let your cock stay in Haewon’s warmth as long as possible. Let the setting sun bathe her pretty face in that lovely afterglow. Let her slowly recover and realize that you’ve been right all along about everything.

“Sir, you came inside me a lot,” she says, a little over a whisper, trying to take record of your work. Her eyes stay glued to the puddle of cum dripping down her leg, running a finger to taste you.

“For my favorite student, why wouldn’t I,” you tell her, caressing your hand up and down her back. Even through the climax, you never stopped.

The brief, peaceful respite is interrupted by, you guessed it, another phone. This time, it’s not Haewon’s. She moves gingerly bending down, almost tumbling over in an attempt to retrieve your phone from the depths of your pocket. Your only contribution is ensuring she doesn’t bash her head on the floor.

“Well, well, well,” she comments, looking at your phone with a familiar, sarcastic tone before handing it over to you. “Speak of the devil.”

On the screen are two missed calls and one new text, all from none other than Mina herself. A grim reminder of the reality you live in.

The message is as predictable as it reads. She won’t be home till late in the evening, which might as well be dawn of the next day.

“Miss Myoui is getting it. A hundred percent sure.”

She delivers it with such conviction that it might as well be fact. You’d be upset about the very thought—anyone would—but a glance at Haewon gives you an idea. One that leaves her curious.

“Sir? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You can already imagine it: the image of railing Haewon everywhere. On the table, against the wall, under the showers. Maybe if you’re lucky enough, Mina will go through that door and be greeted by the sight of her least favorite student getting fucked by her husband from behind.

You show her the text, and just like that, you’re both one and the same. A look of pride crosses her face, as if she’s accomplished an important milestone—and it’s quite a momentous one.

And what better way to celebrate than inside the comfort of your home.

—————

(A/N: Been down bad for Haewon since December. Also, NMIXX is actually good now! Their latest EP has some bangers, highly recommend Run for Roses and Passionfruit. The setting might be a bit more on the bleaker/less wholesome side, but I hope it's not uncomfortable/upsetting. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #nmixx #haewon

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fiapartridge · 5 months

Text

♡ how you get the girl | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: after you walk out on quinn, he realizes he made the biggest mistake of his life, leading him to your doorstep. wet, soppy, and begging for forgiveness.

warning(s): cursing, kissing and grinding and stuff leading to sex but no actual sex described??? idk it just gets heated, angst but there is a happy ending!!!! <33333

author's note 💌: i love writing for quinn. he's my fave. anyways, i got a request to do a part two to the "you're losing me" imagine so! hope u enjoy!

read part one here !!

YOU LEFT HIM. And for a moment, the longest moment of his life, it felt like Quinn’s heart stopped beating. It felt like a wake-up call.

Ever since becoming captain, his focus shifted. His eyes grew tired, waking up before you had the chance to pepper him with kisses in the morning. His arms felt sluggish, coming home later and later, trying to perfect his performance, trying to be a good captain for the team, trying to be the person they needed after a terrible, horrific season. He was trying so hard to be what they needed that he forgot about the most important person in his life, and what she needed.

The second you walked out the door, he knew he fucked up. He knew he should’ve called out for you, or kissed you before you had the chance to break up with him and end it all, or promise to be there, to be what you needed. But that argument—it felt like the end. He hadn't lost you in that moment; you had been slipping away for much longer.

“Hey, where’s Y/N going?” Brock drunkenly draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder, watching him watch the door like you were going to come back and rush into his arms, saying that it was all a huge mistake; that you didn’t mean what you said; that you didn’t care that Quinn had made no time for you in the months he became captain. But that’s not who you are. When you say something, you mean it.

“I fucked up,” he whispered, like he didn’t want to believe that it was true.

Brock’s brows raised, his words a bit slurred but still comprehensive. He pouted. “What did Captain Huggy do now?”

“She asked me if I wanted to marry her.”

Brock released a breath as if gaining his sobriety. “Oh shit. What’d you say?”

Quinn gulped, not believing the words he was gonna say. Of course he wanted to marry you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He would give up anything to be with you, even hockey. And he should’ve said it, he knows he should’ve said it. But would you even believe him if he did? He hasn’t spent a waking minute with you for the past three months. You don’t do that to someone you love. “I said no.”

“What did you want to say?”

Quinn didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t have to think about his answer. “That I would marry her in a heartbeat. That I fucked up and I don’t even know how to fix it.” That when he’s asleep, you’re the only thing he sees in his dreams; that when he’s at practice, and he sees his teammates with their wives and kids, he wonders what it would be like for you to be there, your child on your lap, cheering him on from the stands; that he knows he’s been neglecting you, but he just felt like you would always be there, even if he stopped paying attention.

“So what’re you gonna do?”

Walking back into the party, Quinn scrambled to find his car keys, ignoring the questions of where he’s going and if he’ll return because, for once, he didn’t care about what they thought about him. All he thought about was making it up to you and getting you back.

After fifteen of the longest minutes of his life, he finally made it to your apartment. He knew you would be here instead of his, but it broke his heart nonetheless. You always said that you hated being here. It felt cold and lonely in contrast to Quinn’s, but after these past couple months, neither apartment felt like home.

It was raining outside as he paced outside your apartment complex, trying to come up with the right words, not wanting to say something that’ll upset you further. His suit was wet, his hair shaggy, and his new white socks a squishy mess. You deserved more than him, he thought. You deserved so much better. Someone that would actually be there for you and love you and take care of you. That wasn’t Quinn; it was never going to be Quinn, but the least he could do was try.

Knocking on your door, Quinn shook from the rain, and maybe also from a little bit of fear. As terrible as it sounds, he knew you still loved him, but he was worried that that part of your heart was growing smaller and smaller by the second.

Opening your door, you saw the wet mop on his head and his flustery red cheeks. He was standing in a puddle of rainwater and his hands were trembling. You wanted to hold them, give him a mug of hot chocolate, and warm him up. Swaddle him in a fuzzy blanket, cuddle him, and never let go, but you were also pissed as hell. Why was he standing here? Did he want to rub it in some more? That the only guy you’ve ever truly loved, that you ever actually considered marrying, doesn’t want you? That’s just messed up.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anger still laced in your tone. But you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. You wanted to push it down, but the longer you looked at Quinn and his sad stupid eyes, you resisted it a little less.

“I was afraid,” he muttered, a little less than a whisper.

You rolled your eyes. You’ve been together for years, and he was afraid to tell you he loves you? That he sees a future with you? That he could maybe possibly want to marry you?

Not wanting to hear his excuses, you held your hand on the wood, attempting to close the door as he held it open, a plea in his eyes—please hear me out. “I was afraid that I wouldn’t be what you needed. You shouldn’t marry me. You deserve so much more than me, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “And that’s supposed to be your decision? I get to decide who and what I deserve, not you.” Tearing your eyes from him, Quinn felt his heart plummeting even faster. He can’t lose you. “You know, maybe you were right, Quinn. Maybe we don’t have a future together.”

Was he dying? Was Quinn dying? Is this what death felt like? He felt like he was dying. Everything was going wrong. He was wet, you two weren’t back together yet, and somehow you are even more mad at him than before he came.

Just be honest, his mind screamed.

“I thought that I needed to be what everyone else needed,” he said, staring at the puddle of rain he tracked in. “I needed to be a good captain, I needed to be a good player for the fans and for the organization, I needed to be good for my family, but I forgot about you and what you needed.”

“You don’t need to be on for me, Quinn!” you shouted, not caring for your neighbors that could probably hear from down the hall or the people walking past your guys’ melodramatic scene. “If you just told me how you felt, I would’ve been there! I would’ve been there for you!” your eyes were stinging, sparkling with unshed tears. “But you pushed me aside like I was nothing.”

“Y/N-”

“No, no.” You shook your head. “I think you should go-”

“I’ve thought about marrying you since the moment I met you. Since the moment you met my family and you couldn’t care less that Jack had no idea what personal space was, and that Luke was in love with you so he always asked to sit next to you at dinner. And how invasive my parents were and my grandma giving you those crazy ten-minute-long hugs and always asking you when you were going to give her grandchildren. I’ve thought about marrying you since our first date when I got whipped cream on my nose from the funnel cake we shared and you licked it off even though it was our first date, and I thought ‘this girl is crazy and I think I’m in love with her.’ I’ve thought about marrying you every time we went to a wedding together, not even caring about the actual ceremony because I was imaging it was you and I walking down that aisle and you would start crying during your vows but you’d somehow also sneak in some sort of joke about me balding soon that would get everyone laughing and I would somehow fall more and more in love with you than I was before.

Quinn walked closer, you let him. “Believe me, I want to marry you, Y/N. I would do it right now if I could.”

“So why-”

“I saw you pulling away. I knew I was losing you. I knew that hockey and my life and everything going on right now was hard, and I didn’t want you to be stuck with it if we got married. I didn’t want you to feel like you were stuck with me.”

You breathed out shakily, not expecting…any of that. “I don’t care if you go on roadies every other week, bring me with you. I don’t care if you have a bruised eye or a missing tooth, I’ll be there with an ice pack. If you have to practice from 5 in the morning to 5 in the afternoon, wake me up and I’ll be there with snacks! If the Canucks tank this entire season or they win every single game, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about any of it," you shook your head. "I only care about you.

You held his wet cheeks, his eyes closing against your warm palms. “I’m not stuck with you,” you whispered against his lips. Planting a soft kiss, you felt him chasing your lips as you pulled back. “I want to be with you forever. But what do you want?”

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to think. “I want you, Y/N. I want to marry you, and grow old with you, and do everything with you. I just- I want you.”

Standing on your toes, you pulled Quinn into a kiss, his lips quickly closing the distance. He melted into your body, his hands finding themselves underneath the fabric of your shirt, wrapping his arms around your torso as if you were going to dissipate into a clear mist.

As you backed into the apartment, Quinn kicked the door shut, sealing the world outside. With the living room dimly lit, you found yourselves on the couch, pulled gently onto his lap, his hands exploring the curves of your body. “I love you,” he whispered, wanting to get closer, closer, so much closer.

Meeting his urgency, you grinded against his hard-on, licking his lips. “Yeah?”

He nodded profusely, already imagining you back at his apartment, where you were meant to be, in his bed, in his shirt, moaning his name. “Yeah.”

You smirked, lifting your shirt over your head, your lacy red bra being on full display. Quinn's eyes drank in the sight, his desire palpable in the air. “Show me how much.”

Quinn wasted no time, his hands finding the clasp of your bra, skillfully releasing the constraints. As the fabric fell away, his hands traced the contours of your skin, a silent vow to explore every inch. To kiss each mole and each dimple, and thank whatever godly entity led you to him.

"Wanna marry you," he moaned into your lips.

"You obsessed with me or something?" you smirked, giggling as he lifted you from the couch, carrying you to your bedroom.

"Something like that."

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #i love quinn

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servicpop · 2 months

Note

Hhhhhhh this is gonna be embarrassing 4 me to write out shshjsjs but I LOVE your writing and I have a request

If your like up for it, could you write another yanfic? But cowboy x ‘showgirl’ (a dude cross dressing for fun) it’s sfw

Like the cowboy goes to one of the readers shows and is immediately obsessed with the performer who he assumes is just a really flat woman, but when the cowboy goes backstage to find the woman he’s met with a man who looks identical to the woman on stage and realizes that the woman of his dreams was actually a man and to the cowboy that’s even better

N they go on a date and it’s fluffy and shit cus i love fluff and cowboys, i really fucking love cowboys

-🎱

✶ ﹑ love at first performance ﹏

NOW STARRING : Soft cowboy (Cole Hudson) x show"girl" reader

「ㅤSFWㅤ」ㅤCole goes to watch one of reader's show and was captivated by the performance but he didn't know that reader wasn't really a showgirl.

✙ warnings — fluff, reader cross-dresses, addresses reader as woman in the first bit (he doesn't know yet) use of her once! I'm not very good at portraying a cowboy well...

notes ,, this got me doing my research ! not too sure if this is accurate for show girls (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) not proofread!

Dusty boots scraped on the floor as Cole navigated through the bustling crowd; his heart raced from how many people there were. As the cowboy wandered in the dimly lit venue, his gaze fixated on the stage where beautiful women dressed in flamboyant clothing that glittered and swayed with their movement, danced along with the rhythm of music blaring through speakers. One showgirl especially caught Cole's attention. The way your body moved like water was hypnotising and he coupling stop his heart from thumping against his ribcage.

At first, Cole wasn't interested in these loud events; always scarin' his poor cows and his horse, but this time his pal had really insisted for him to visit one. 'It would be fun,' he said, 'see lots of spectacular performances and maybe some cute girls,' he said. So, Cole rode his horse into the heart of town and here he was now, stuck between sweaty bodies and glaring lights in his eyes.

That one performer though, your radiance was brighter than the other showgirls. Cole was entranced by your dancing, oh how he wishes he was there with you, hand on your hips, slow dancing under the soft streetlights of his home town. He slid his hat off, placing it over his chest almost like he was trying to muffle the sound of his racing heart. The costumes were bright, dazzling, and flowed easily in the wind. They were also quite revealing, accentuating the girl's cleavage and showing off the performer's midriff. All but you.

Cole noticed the lack of well— a larger chest like the other girls had, but he just assumed you were flat-chested. That didn't matter to him, besides, he prefered modesty anyways. After a few minutes, your performance was unfortunately coming to an end. The music faded out and the vibrant lights dimmed as he watched you all bow. The venue filled with deafening clapping but Cole couldn't help but stare starry-eyed at you as you walked off stage. He needed to meet you in person.

The next act slowly made their way to the stage but Cole couldn't care less about them; it was a horse show! He's pretty skilled with horses himself so there was no need to stay. Once again he pushed through the crowd of cheering people, weaving his way out of the venue. When he emerged out, Cole was hit with the crisp night air, a stark contrast of freshness compared to inside the venue. His eyes scanned the area, trying to find where the performers went after their show and he was able to spot a small tent that had light seeping out of the gaps. Cole walked over to said tent and grazed the fabric with his fingertips in hesitancy. He took a deep breath; his chest heaving before he shut his eyes and pushed the fabric aside, walking inside.

He opened his eyes as he walked in, a few showgirls turned around to look at him with confused faces and he just stood there dumbfounded. The words he wanted to speak were clogged by the lump in his throat. You walked up to him, waving your hand infront of his face, "Hey, are you okay?" You asked with a raised eyebrow. He blinked a few times before tilting his head down to meet your gaze. Christ you were beautiful, almost hauntingly similar to the showgirl he was infatuated with earlier. "U—um, I'm looking for a specific showgirl that performed tonight and I was wonderin' if I can... find her," He mumbled out, his eyes locked onto your features as if he was assessing your face. "Are you two, by any chance, relatives of some sort?" He questioned, his country accent shining through his voice.

The girls giggled while taking off their make-up and Cole shot them a confused glance. You sighed with a small chuckle and you looked down at your feet, "By any chance, would this 'showgirl' you're looking for, be me?" Once again, Cole stared at you with his jaw open. He felt his heart strangely flutter despite knowing that you were a guy. He swore he wasn't into guys but you were— different. Not like any man he's seen. He just couldn't shake off his attraction towards you.

"You're a fella?"

"Yeah, you got a problem with that?"

"Well I'll be damned, you are one beauty."

The mixture of his country accent and your more refined accent strikingly contrasted but for some reason complemented eachother. City boy meets country boy. It seemed like Cole had a staring problem because once again, he was blankly gazing into your eyes. It was charming though, how Cole always looked like he was admiring you. Pretty flattering to say the least. Out of nowhere he spoke up...

"How 'bout takin' a ride on my horse?"

How did you get here? Holding onto Cole's waist, you screamed pathetically. Your eyes were screwed shut and your cheek was pressed against his back, all you could hear were hooves thumping on the ground and Cole's warm laugh that echoed through the valley. You two were going so fast that you swore you'd fall off if you didn't hold on tight enough. "You enjoying the ride darlin'?" Cole chuckled, peering over his shoulder to see you clutching onto him like a koala, "Slow down, please!" He ignored your pleas to slow down, "C'mon sweetheart, open your eyes, the stars tonight are just somethin' else!" He yelled through the noise of the wind instead. When he saw that you didn't budge from your terrified position, he just let out a soft laugh and placed one hand over your ones that were clasped around his waist. The warmth of his calloused palm spread to your fingertips and you almost forgot how cold it was tonight. "We're almost there, don't worry," his voice was gentle and thick like honey as he reassured you.

You weren't used to this, not used to the serene silence of the nature, not used to the wind beating so hard against your body, not used to clinging onto a cute cowboy for your dear life as he rode his horse with such passion. You've grown used to the smoke filling the city, used to the loud noises of late night partiers and engines running, used to being by yourself in an apartment with only the warmth of your blanket to keep you company. When was the last time you felt so— free?

The wind died down and you two slowly halted to a stop; you didn't even realise. "You can let go now sugar," Cole giggled as he waited for you to look up from the comfort of his back. You raised your head, your eyes meeting the beautiful scenery of a small cliff with forests lining the background and a starry display of the night sky that seemed like the stars were winking at you. This was a sight you could never see in the city. Cole slides off his horse, planting his two feet on the floor before extending a hand up to you to help you get off too. Your hand reluctantly meets his, the warmth of his palm returning to your finger tips as he guides you down, catching you when you hopped off. The way he handled you was so gentle, as if he was a beast and you were a fragile butterfly.

"Guess you could say we're on a date, huh?" Cole's smile punched your gut from how soft he looked, his hand never left yours. You scoff at his remark — but in a light-hearted way — as your eyes leave his instead, and returned to the scene presented infront of the both of you. It really did seem like a date, far more romantic than any fancy dinner in the big city. Oh and the way his eyes aren't even looking at the sky. He's looking at you. "Ain't it a sight for sore eyes?" He marvelled, and you know he's not talking about the scenery.

"Yeah, it really is," You breathed out quietly like your breath had just been taken away. Cole's eyes finally leave you and he stared at the soil beneath him before he spoke, his voice hushing to barely above a whisper, "You goin' back to the big city soon?" He doesn't want you to leave. Not now. Not yet. Before you could speak, his large hands bring yours together and he traps them between his. His eyes were wide and his brows were furrowed, "Please don't go," he blurted out, embarrassingly higher pitch than he wanted his voice to be.

Your eyes soften as you couldn't help the giggles that escaped your throat. Your eyes lingered on his hands over yours and you noticed the way his fingers trembled slightly but his strength in his grip never faltered. He wasn't allowing you to leave. You did have time before your next gig so, why not?

"Maybe I'll stay for a little longer."

Your heart ached when you saw Cole sigh in relief, his eyes darting everywhere but yours with dusted rose cheeks. He let go of your hands, clutching his own. "I reckon I'll take you out to the strawberry farm my buddy owns. You can't find nothin' sweeter than the fresh grown strawberries out here," He proposed, his fingers skimming over his own knuckles. He was somewhat afraid that you'd reject him. You were so sophisticated, so refined that he couldn't help but feel silly next to you, a big performer who traveled the country to entertain. You, on the other hand, almost instantly fell to your knees from his adorable invite. Strawberry farming? With this cute cowboy you just met? Hell yeah!

"Sounds like a deal, um—" You just realised, you never got his name, "Oh! It's Cole, Cole Hudson," He replied, tipping his hat at you. Jotting his name down in your mind, you glanced at the sky, and noticed that it was incredibly dark, your manager and the girls would be worried if you were nowhere to be found in an unfamiliar place, "Well, I guess it's time to let you be. Let me take you back to your place for tonight." A whistle breaks through the silence in the air as Cole called over his horse, her hooves tapped against the floor in a trot as he took your hand in his and hoisted you up onto the horse's back before hopping on himself, "Hold on, sweets," He smiled, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his waist, securing yourself to him. With a gentle nudge of his foot and the flick of the reins, he guided his horse forward.

You were a little braver this time, keeping your head up as you tried to look around you but it was practically useless now as everything was pitch-black. You wondered how Cole could navigate in such darkness, maybe it was because he travelled up this same path multiple times and knew it better than the back of his palm. As of now, you put your whole trust in him to escort you to your hotel safely.

The lights of the town in the distance inched closer as you two finally made it back. The town was eerily quiet as many people were presumably asleep at this hour — it was so different to the city. "Thanks for the ride, Cole, I really enjoyed it," You thanked him while fumbling to get off his horse; you were still getting used to it. Cole had a hand gently caressing the mahogany-coloured fur of his mare as he looked at you with those hazel eyes of his.

"See you here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure."

You found yourself rushing to meet up with Cole the next morning. Something in you just— felt at home with him. You met up with him, he took you on his horse, and after a few long conversations about seemingly anything that popped into your minds, you and Cole arrived to the strawberry farm. It was a surprisingly big farm with green rows of leaves with a pop of red peaking out from behind the leaves. Cole helped you put on your boots and strapped a hat to your head to shield you from the harsh sun of the countryside.

"I'll teach ya how to find the sweetest ones," Cole grinned, flicking his head to the side as he encouraged you to follow him. He trudged along the rows of strawberries with his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, showing his well-built forearms. He had given you a little basket and labelled you on 'basket duty,' but you didn't complain. You stared at his back while he proudly walked infront of you, it was now that you realised how big he was compared to you, both in height and muscle. Could you grow to his height in the future? Probably not.

You were snapped out of your trance when Cole squat down and reached a hand out to one particularly red strawberry, "Here, this is a good one," he hummed contently before plucking it off the stem before handing it to you, "Y'see, a bright red tells you its a sweet strawberry, and these green caps are also good," Cole explained. He placed the strawberry into the basket and turned back around, walking forward with peeled eyes. He wanted to find the best ones for you.

"How 'bout you try, darlin'?" Cole asked, glancing over his shoulder before reaching out his arm to encircle around your waist, drawing you closer and leading you forward. "Alright," You hesitated on agreeing but why not give it a try? You couldn't get this experience anywhere in the city. Your eyes caught on specific strawberry that fit the 'Sweet Strawberry' criteria that Cole suggested to you. Vibrant color? Check. Green cap? Check. You picked it off the stem and showed Cole for approval. He placed a hand on his chin as he looked like he was lost in analysing the strawberry. A smile plastered on his face and his dimples appeared, "You'll ain't gonna know 'till you try it."

Bringing the strawberry to your lips, you sunk your teeth into it, the refreshing sweetness meeting your tongue. Your gaze was casted off into space as you took some time to process how to describe the taste until you suddenly felt warm fingers tilt your chin up. Before you could question it, Cole leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, savouring the taste of the strawberry that was lingering on your lips. It was only a small peck before he pulled away. You swear you were just swept off your feet and— was it getting really hot or was it just you? You stood there, frozen, unsure of how to act after that kiss. That was enough to send your heart running laps.

"It's real sweet, you sure did a good job pickin' that one sweetheart."

♡

notes ,, I loved writing this so much! Thank you nonnie ♡♡ I wasn't planning on writing this much but I just had to ,, anyways! If you wanna see more Cole please request scenarios/date ideas/etc etc, also, thank you for 400+ followers ♡ my read more thing keeps breaking so don't mind if its kinda weird!

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #oc x male reader #male x reader #mlm #male x male #sub male reader #male reader #cowboy oc #x male reader #m!reader #oc x reader #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #fluff

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normansnt · 3 months

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Knight in shining armor

(Hazbin Adam x singer!male reader)

(Not my art, idk whose sorry I got it from pinterest but credits to the artist cuz he would SO wear that I cant😭)

Warnings: fist fight

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"FUCK YEAAHHHHHH THATS MY BOYFRIEND MF" yelled Adam to a random person at your concert.

He always did that. Whenever he went to one of your concerts (always, I am not kidding the man has not missed a single one) he yelled to every one of your songs because he knew them inside out and after each song he yelled to someone that you're his boyfriend.

It was sweet in your eyes he was truly your number one fan. However on more than one occasion this has gotten out of hand. Like right now.

Sometimes people get annoyed at his yelling even though it is a rock concert he is still the loudest one. But this time it was different. This time something happened that actually bothered him.

He was yelling about how much he loves you and how you are his boyfriend again when he overheard something that he didn't like.

"For real? That gorgeous singer is dating that flop no fucking way."

"I know right? I gotta say I wouldn't mind hearing the singers voice moaning my-" Adam didn't wait longer to hear the end of the sentence he straight on punched that guy.

"I fucking DARE you to finish that sentence." Adam literally growled. Even though this was heaven, assholes were present here too.

The fight got so big that you had to stop your performance and stop it.

"Adam- Adam stop" you tried to get your boyfriend off of the two guys who he was now fighting.

"Let me go babe, I'm gonna fucking murder those two mother fuckers-"

"Adam, they already had enough you won." You tried arguing with him while you dragged him to your dressing room. The two guys laying on the floor beaten to pulp.

Once you closed the door, the ruckus outside got just a bit quieter and you could finally take a deep breath.

"What happened this time?" You asked your boyfriend while getting the first aid kit and patching him up. He was much better of than the other guys thats true. But he still had some scratches and a black eye.

Adam told you the whole story of what happened and you listened intently while gently putting some alcohol at a deep cut on his nose.

"And then I was like- aww fuck babe warn me next time" he started whining because of the alcohol.

You sighed.

"Listen Adam, I appreciate what you did, those pigs said some disgusting shit and you were a great knight in shining armor but I worked really hard to get this gig and you know that" you said trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Babe, your boyfriend is the fucking Adam, tell me where you want to preform and you'll get in within seconds I can take care of that."

"I know Adam but I really wanna accomplish some things on my own." You sighed again.

Adam knew he fucked up, he sees first hand how much work you put into your music. But he just couldn't help it this is the kind of thing that pisses him off to no end. His first two wives left him for someone else and even though he might act confident he was terrified that you would leave him, too. He didn't want to loose someone he loved so much.

You put your hand on his cheek and made him look at you.

"Hey, its ok I understand." Thats all you needed to say. You knew about Lilith and Eve leaving him. And you knew how insecure he actually felt. You have been dating for almost 6 years now you knew him way too well.

You kissed him to let him know that you weren't mad. He kissed back with enthusiasm, he loved kissing you. It might be true that he has kissed a lot of people before you came along but he always said that you were his favorite kisser of all time. He just loved the feeling of your lips against his.

"(Y/N)...I- listen I mean what I said really, wherever you wanna play I can hook you up."

You chuckled lightly. You knew this was the closest thing you are gonna get out of him as an apology, the man was not good at apologizing. But you already knew that, and loved him nonetheless.

"I know honey I know." You put your forehead on his.

The wholesome moment was interrupted when you both started hearing chanting from outside.

"Is that-?"

"THEY ARE CHANTING YOUR NAME BABY COME ON GET YOUR BRETTY ASS OUT THERE"

And there he was again, your stupid boyfriend.

You laughed an snatched up your guitar.

"All right baby you wanna watch from back stage?" You asked back as you held out your hand to him.

"FUCK YEAAHH"

And with that you two walked out of your dressing room laughing.

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HE IS JUST A STUPID LITTLE MEN HELP I LOVE HIM SM IDK WHY😭😭

Hope you guys enjoyed😘~

#male reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male y/n #hazbin adam

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apomaro-mellow · 9 months

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Hospitals still weren't Eddie most favorite place to be, even though they had technically saved his life once. He didn't give doctors the credit though. No, he reserved that praise for his husband who had literally carried him through hell, holding his guts together.

But alas, he was still only human. And thus prone to human ailments. Which was why he was currently in a hospital bed, preparing for a tonsillectomy.

"Steve, my love, my muse", Eddie took his hand and kissed it. "Should I not return from this-"

"Oh shut up. It's a routine operation." Steve could tell he was being dramatic to cover up the fact that he was actually scared. "You'll be fine. In fact, I'm going down to the cafeteria right now. You're not getting just any ice cream. I'm gonna bring you back a whole sundae."

Steve looked to the rest of the band, who had come for moral support. "Watch him please. And don't let him fall to hysterics." He left out, really hoping he wouldn't come back to an Eddie in tears.

"Sooo", Grant started. "If you don't make it, who gets your house?"

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Uh, my husband, duh?"

"Okay, who gets your husband?", Gareth asked.

Eddie saw the cavalry arrive in the form of Steve's true soulmate. "Robiiiiin", he whined. "You have to protect Steve from these vultures", he hissed the last word.

"We're just trying to hash out who has dibs on Eddie's hot husband", Jeff said.

Robin pointed to herself. "I made it clear to Eddie when he proposed that should the marriage end, either naturally or by divorce, custody of Steve would revert back to me."

"Not exactly the answer I was looking for Bucks, but as long as you keep Steve out of another man's clutches, I won't haunt you from the grave."

"Actually, I plan on setting him up with the first wealthy guy he meets", Robin said. "Thanks to your fame, I've become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. And also, Steve doesn't know how to be single."

The other CC boys nodded sagely.

"All the more reason one of us should get him. We can take care of him", Grant said.

"I can't believe this. This is a goddamn coup!", Eddie shouted.

Steve returned, none the wiser to their conversation. "You won't believe this. The cafeteria has chocolate syrup AND nuts? Isn't that wild? You're gonna have the best sundae of your life, babe."

He took his seat right next to Eddie's bedside and kissed his forehead.

"Angel, we're surrounded by snakes and thieves", Eddie said deliriously.

"What are you talking about?", Steve asked.

Having only Eddie in his line of sight, he couldn't see the others behind him. So he didn't see Jeff making kissy faces, Gareth making a circle with his hand and sticking a finger through it repeatedly, or Grant making a V with his fingers and flapping his tongue between them.

"Those traitorous lechers covet what is mine. And not even Robin seeks to protect your virtue!", Eddie said, desperately reaching out for Steve.

Steve kept his voice even and calm, trying to soothe his husband from whatever delusion he was having when the doctor came in. This guy looked like he played a doctor on tv. Chiseled jaw with perfectly manicured facial hair.

"Good evening", he greeted.

"Hi", Steve said, voice a little breathy.

"Oh he's perfect", Robin said, reading her friend perfectly.

"I'm Dr. Morip, I'll be performing your operation today."

"Morip?", Eddie tilted his head.

"Yes, as in 'more ripped than you'." Then he flexed and busted out of his scrubs and swept Steve off his feet, ignoring the cries of the invalid on the bed.

Eddie was tossing and turning even as Steve shook his shoulders to wake him up.

"You were having a nightmare", Steve spoke softly in the dim lamp light of the hospital room. "Was it 86 again?"

"Steve!", Eddie clung to him as best as he could. "You didn't leave me for Dr. Morip!"

"Dr. Morip? Eddie, her name is Dr. Hudson. And she's married and in her sixties."

Everything caught up with Eddie as his brain became more lucid. He'd already had the operation. That had all been a dream. The tension released instantly as he realized he wasn't about to die on the table and Steve would be scooped up by opportunistic friends.

"You're mine, you know that?"

"Really? Is that why I'm hand-feeding you ice cream?", Steve teased, holding up a spoonful to Eddie's lips.

"I love you", Eddie said, voice muffled from the food and a little watery too.

"I know, you dope. Love you too."

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #everybody loves steve

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ineffable-suffering · 8 months

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Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #story of job #job minisode #good omens analysis #aziraphale is a storyteller #but not a very accurate one #my own meta

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eimids · 7 months

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Don’t care about them

Alexia Putellas x reader

i’m gonna keep writing to annoy that rude anon😉

this is inspired by this whole situation going on in my blog!! enjoy nonnie i know you are reading this😚😚

warnings: bad body image, rude comments, angst

You and Alexia had dated for a year before your relationship became public. It wasn’t ideal but you were happy that now you were able to show to the world your girlfriend.

The press was having a field day after your relationship came out with the one and only, Alexia Putellas. They were writing about your life and every single thing you ever did.

That wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact that they were talking about your body and looks. Giving their opinions on your posts on instagram. Judging and criticizing if you are worthy enough for Alexia, the star player of Spain and Barca.

The articles weren’t all that bad but the comments were.

Under a photo with you wearing heavier makeup than usual.

“She wears way too much makeup, i bet she’s actually ugly and just maskes it behind that makeup”

If you weren’t wearing makeup.

“She’s so ugly, look at those eyebags. she doesn’t deserve Alexia”

Then there was a photo of you in a bikini.

“🤢 look at those things and that stomach. she should be a lot skinnier. alexia deserves much better than that”

“She’s trying so hard to suck her stomach in it’s pathetic”

“I wouldn’t be posting bikini pictures with that body”

You quickly decided to turn off the comments on specific posts. Not wanting to hear the mean words they said about you.

You went through the rabbit hole of scrolling and reading through every single comment before deleting the comments. It wasn’t good for you but you couldn’t help it. Just needing to read what they said about you. Some comments were actually nice. Telling you how cute you and Alexia were together. Probably most of them were nice but they went to blind eyes. You were only able to see the negative ones.

It quickly became too much for you. You actually started to believe the comments about Alexia deserving better. You started to isolate from her and from everyone. It was easy since Alexia was in the Spain women’s camp during international break.

It started as you just not replying to her texts so often and missing some of her calls but it quickly escalated to you completely ignoring her. You thought she wouldn’t care about your absence in her life but she did.

In fact she was stressing the whole camp about it. She didn’t perform as well and you were in her mind constantly. She thought she did something wrong. Luckily for her there was only one more day of camp and then she would see you again and solve this situation. She knew that whatever it was, you could work through it. You always did.

When Alexia came back home finally she found you in your shared bed. She noticed the dry tears on your cheeks and your phone in your hand. She decided to unlock it to see what it was.

She was horrified when she saw all the comments about you. How could anyone say those things about her precious girl. The girl who wouldn’t hurt or say anything bad about anyone. She hated that this was somewhat her fault. Her being a public figure, it was hard to avoid those comments.

She closed your phone and took her own in her hands to post quickly on her instagram. After that she cuddled close to you. Not wanting to wake you up but also wanting you as close as possible. She stayed like that for a while before falling asleep herself.

The next morning you woke up to the soft hands caressing your body. So gently touching every part of your body while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“Should we break up?”

That wasn’t at all what Alexia expected from your mouth and she tensed up immediately.

“What, why” She asked breathlessly.

“I don’t deserve you. They all say it. You deserve much better than me” You said while looking into her beautiful eyes. Tears creeping in your own.

“Absolutely not. You are more than enough and i love you more than anything my beautiful girl” She answered then quickly followed “You don’t actually wanna break up, right?” She asked nervously.

“No” You said and shook your head. You started crying to her about all the mean stuff in your comments. She listed carefully and assured that none of them were true.

The rest of the day she showed just how much she loved you and you stayed in bed for the whole day. Just before you went to sleep you checked your instagram. To your surprise there was a post from Alexia made the day before.

Liked by yourinstagram, Lucy Bronze and 1, 456, 789 others.

alexiaputellas: my beautiful, amazing, kind and loving girlfriend 🩷 te quiero mi niña

the comments you been writing about this beautiful soul are horrible and i disagree with them all. i couldn’t ask for anything better and if we are being honest, i don’t know how i deserve her but i’m so lucky to have her in my life<3

so for anyone who has been sending those comments, just stop. if you’re own life is that boring then maybe get some help 🙂

me and my girl will enjoy our life together 🤝

no me importa lo que piensen los demás✨

—

hehee

#woso community #woso x reader #woso fanfics #wlw post #lucy bronze #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas marry me #fluff #barca femeni

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luvkyu · 2 months

Text

and i ( zhang hao )

zhang hao x male reader

hao is slightly obsessed with another violinist

content : 1.7k words, fluff, violinist!hao x violinist!reader, music terms, v shy hao, mention of vom!t ( just used as exaggeration )

"make sure you go into a heavier crescendo here, okay? this is the biggest climax of the song."

zhang hao nodded sheepishly. it was hard to stay focused on his violin when his mentor was so attractive. especially while sitting right beside him.

"i think a little more vibrato here would be good too, but you can worry more about the actual notes for now if you like," y/n said with a soft smile as he pointed to the sheet music. he could tell hao was nervous, so he was trying his best to keep a light hearted atmosphere.

"it's okay, i can do the vibrato," hao assured.

y/n smiled and nodded. he liked how determined hao was.

"alright, let's run through it one more time and then we'll be done for the day," y/n said.

hao raised his violin back up, straight posture and impeccable bow hold. y/n smiled in approval before doing the same, the sounds of their strings soon filling the practice room.

hao was a second year in their performing arts college. y/n was a fourth year and a first chair violinist in the school's competitive chamber orchestra. the pair had met during hao's first year, but never exchanged more than a few words.

y/n spent a lot of his time helping struggling first and second years with adjusting to their harder music pieces, so when hao spoke up, y/n was happy to help. now they met about three times a week to practice, and hao just received new sheet music that was a complete eyesore.

"good, that was really good," y/n praised happily. "how're you feeling with this piece so far?"

"it's fun, it's just a lot.." hao replied while loosening his bow. y/n nodded.

"yeah, i know. at least we got through the whole first page today! we'll work on the second one next time."

hao nodded as he began putting his things away. y/n gazed at him for a second, admiring how soft his personality seemed.

"y'know, you're a really good violinist, hao."

hao looked up at him with wide eyes. y/n was standing up now, violin hanging from his fingers and a gentle smile resting on his lips. hao could feel his cheeks turning red.

"..thank you. i really like playing, so that means a lot."

y/n nodded in return. "are you gonna try out for the chamber orchestra next year? they let some third years in."

hao thought about it for a moment. he carefully closed his violin case and latched the locks.

"mm.. i'm not sure."

"well," y/n began, "i think you should. if you want to, of course."

hao blushed and nodded in response. he wasn't really sure how to talk to y/n. not when he had the biggest crush on him known to mankind. he could feel y/n's eyes still on him, and for just a second, he wondered if y/n possibly liked him back.

"anyway, i'll see you back here monday?" y/n asked brightly. hao nodded, trying to give his best smile.

y/n hung his violin case over his shoulder and gathered his sheet music before waving goodbye. hao followed his exit, beginning to walk the opposite way to his dorm.

after finally getting back home, zhang hao threw his bags aside with a sigh. he gave more care to his violin case, setting it down gently. taerae stood in the small corner kitchen with a bowl of food in his hands.

"hey, hao. you good?"

"mm," hao mumbled. he went into the kitchen with the other and took a water from their fridge.

"y/n again?" taerae asked with a small chuckle.

hao nodded, "i'm so into him. i hate it."

"i don't know why you won't just ask him out."

hao shrugged. taerae set his bowl down as he gazed at his roommate. hao was so down bad, and taerae hated that he refused to do anything about it. he rolled his eyes and lightly slapped his hand on the counter.

"alright," taerae declared, "you're coming with me tonight. i'm going to his concert to write a review piece for the school paper, so i can get you a ticket too."

"there's a concert tonight??" hao asked with wide eyes.

"yeah, with the chamber orchestra. how did you not know that?"

"i have no idea. i guess i've been too preoccupied."

"sure, preoccupied with y/n."

"..shut up."

zhang hao was shivering. not because it was cold, but because he was nervous. more nervous than he'd ever been, even on his first day of college. he had a small bouquet of flowers in one hand, and his phone in the other with a deathly tight grip. he stood frozen for a moment as he stared at the large theater in front of him.

"hey, relax," taerae's voice cut through his anxiety, "it'll be okay."

hao nodded, trying to let a smile curve on his lips. he could barely see y/n on the stage, as he and taerae were still by the entrance. the orchestra was tuning and warming up, but he could make out y/n's styled hair and pretty smile from far away. he seemed to be talking to the violinist beside him about the sheet music. hao felt his heart swell. seeing y/n in his formal concert attire was almost too much for him.

"c'mon, let's get to our seats," taerae said eagerly. hao nodded again and followed his friend to a pair of seats that were much closer to the stage than he thought.

"oh, he's right in front!" taerae exclaimed quietly, pointing to y/n.

"mhm, he's first chair."

taerae looked over at hao as he looked at y/n.

"taerae?"

"hm?"

"he looks so good i'm gonna throw up," hao muttered. taerae rolled his eyes with a small snicker.

zhang hao took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. he laid the flowers in his lap before rubbing his palms together.

"wait, i think he sees us!" taerae enthused.

hao's head shot back up to find his crush's eyes resting on him. a smile quickly sprouted on y/n's face, keeping his gaze set on hao.

"oh, i hate him.. why is he staring at me like that.."

"cause he likes you, dumb fuck."

hao looked over at taerae with wide eyes before going back to y/n.

"maybe he's just surprised to see me. he didn't know i was coming so.."

taerae rolled his eyes. he watched hao muster up the courage to wave at y/n, the male sending a tiny wave back with his violin bow.

the lights soon died down as the audience began clapping and the conductor made his way out to join the orchestra. hao loved watching y/n become all serious as he lifted his violin to his chin in sync with the others.

throughout the pieces of music, taerae took notes for the school paper, while hao simply sat in awe. he'd seen them perform before, but it was like a new experience every time. the group was so professional and well put together. hao hoped he could be at such a level soon.

by the time it was over, zhang hao was even more of a nervous wreck. he waited with taerae by their seats, pretending to talk until y/n made his way over to them. he was currently traveling through the theater to talk with different people. hao assumed he was thanking people for coming and receiving congratulatory words in return - the usual etiquette that hao found quite tiresome if he was honest.

"hey guys," hao felt his heart quicken as he recognized y/n's voice, "thanks for coming. i didn't expect to see you, but i'm happy you're here."

taerae could tell that was directed more at zhang hao, but he didn't mind a bit. he and y/n were more like acquaintances than friends anyways.

"of course! you guys did really great. the review in the paper will be nothing but good things, i promise," taerae assured.

"thank you, i'm really glad you liked it!"

taerae smiled before turning to hao, "i'm gonna go wait in the car, okay?"

hao nodded in response. he could feel a chill run down his spine as he now faced y/n alone. he felt like melting on the spot. seeing y/n up close in his suit and tie made him feel weak.

"i've never seen you so dressed up. you look really amazing," y/n complimented, as if reading hao's mind.

"thank you," hao blushed, "you do too. i like your suit a lot."

y/n smiled and looked down at the clean black fabric.

"yeah? i always feel kinda weird when i dress up this nicely, but i'm glad someone else enjoys it."

hao nodded. oh, how he really did enjoy it.

"ah- these are for you," hao spoke up as he reached to the seat behind him where he'd left the flowers. y/n's jaw fell open just a bit, blushing a little himself now.

"really? you got me flowers?"

hao smiled and nodded. "you deserve them. i knew you'd be great tonight."

y/n couldn't help but chuckle at how cute the other was. he took the bouquet happily, looking at the flowers before turning his attention back to zhang hao.

"hey, are you doing anything else tonight?" y/n asked. hao's heart picked up once again. he shook his head while trying to hide his growing smile.

"then can i take you to dinner?"

hao almost couldn't believe it.

"really? you mean now?"

y/n nodded confidently, "we're already dressed up, i'm hungry, and i have the prettiest boy in the room to come with me. it's perfect."

hao looked down at his shoes, his smile too much for himself now.

"sure, i'd love to. let me just tell taerae?"

y/n nodded again, "of course. let's go." he offered his hand out, which hao took a bit shyly before he was led out of the theater.

#kpop x male reader #male reader #zb1 x male reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #zerobaseone #zb1 x reader #zb1 #zb1 zhang hao #zhang hao #zhang hao x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zhang hao x male reader

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wildernessuntothemselves · 7 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy... | Part 5

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

Word count: 5.9k

Genre: Smut, angst

Warnings: fem!reader, drinking, sub!beomgyu, dom!reader, blowjob, edging, overstimulation, degradation, nipple play, cum eating, fingering (female receiving).

Haeun’s appearances increase along with the band’s gigs, inviting herself to all the afterparties and mingling with the new crowd Beomgyu curated.

It's a cause of contest between you. You keep telling him that she's using him but he doesn’t care. He just wants her attention. Besides, every time you bring her up, he brings up Yeonjun and the whole thing just devolves into a fight, and so bit by bit you just learn to shut up and keep your distance–to protect yourself from the pain and to stop fighting with him.

You’re once again at one of the band’s gigs, but this time you’re wearing Yeonjun’s merch. You’re here to cheer for him, not your asshole best friend, who by the way was so obviously drunk he keeps messing up, even to your woefully untrained ears.

You can see him struggling and see the band shooting him dirty looks every time he messes up. You'd feel bad for him if he wasn't such an asshole. Actually, you still feel bad for him. You can't help it. You’re so worried about him that you can’t even enjoy the performance. Not that anyone can really when the vibe is so off with the whole band.

And this isn’t a one-time thing even. It has happened a few times now. Beomgyu seems to be slipping. You blame Haeun. Ever since she came into his life, he became like this.

As soon as the last song ends, Beomgyu storms off backstage. His band members awkwardly stay behind to say goodbye to the crowd but you can tell they’re fuming.

You quickly go backstage, hoping to catch Beomgyu before the members do. For what? You don’t know exactly. You just know your best friend is in trouble and you want to help him.

But unfortunately, the band makes it back before you do. You go there to find them already ripping into him.

“For fuck’s sake man. If you wanna get drunk, by all means do it, but on your own time. We’re trying to get signed here. We can’t have you ruin it for us.” Soobin curses at Beomgyu.

“Oh, like you’ve never performed drunk or high before.” Beomgyu retorts, clearly defensive.

“Yes, but we’ve never let it affect our performance.” Yeonjun interjects, and Beomgyu looks at him with such venom, you think he might lunge forward and punch him. “No, you let your shitty singing and botched notes do that for you.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that what you’re gonna tell people after you’re kicked out of the band?”

That does it. Beomgyu lunges forward, but Taehyun was anticipating this and he grabs Beomgyu and holds him back. Luckily, he is much stronger than your scrawny best friend. “Hey, hey, let’s calm down.”

“What is he talking about?” Beomgyu demands, and the boys look at Soobin.

“It won’t come to that.” Soobin tries to calm him down but Beomgyu will not have it. “Won’t come to what? Are you thinking of kicking me out?”

“No. No, we won’t because you are going to get your shit together and clean your act up.” Soobin deadpans, “Right?”

Though Soobin was trying his best to reassure Beomgyu, there was also a clear threat there, and Beomgyu shoves Taehyun off him.

“Right.” He says darkly, grabbing his guitar and walking out.

You try to run after him but Yeonjun grabs your arm to stop you. “Let him go. He’s an idiot.”

But you shake your head. “I can’t. He’s my best friend. I have to be there for him.”

He sighs in disappointment, letting you go, and you run to the parking lot, wondering if you’ve missed him and Beomgyu had taken a taxi home already. But thankfully, you find him standing in front of one, just… waiting?

When he sees you, he gets into the car and leaves the door open, obviously waiting for you to get in so you do, closing the door behind you before the driver pulls off.

“I thought you might’ve left.” You say awkwardly.

“I was waiting for you.”

Yeah, you definitely did the right thing. If Beomgyu had waited and you didn’t come, you know he would’ve been super pissed, probably thinking that you chose Yeonjun over him.

You don’t say anything else for the whole drive home. You didn’t want to get into it in front of a stranger so you wait until you’re back inside your apartment to speak up.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this,” You start nervously once you’re back home, “But you really need to focus. You can't risk your future like this."

"Like you fucking care. It's all because of you." He accuses you and you reel back in shock. "What?"

"Why did you have to fuck my friend?"

"Oh my god, I can't listen to this again." Your hands fly to your head, already feeling a headache coming because of this tired point. What does this even have to do with him getting drunk and ruining the band’s performances?

But Beomgyu doubles down on his stupid point. “Well, you’re going to have to because your boyfriend wants to kick me out of the band.”

“You are crazy! This has nothing to do with me and Yeonjun.” You shout, exasperated, “They will kick you out because you’re going on stage drunk and playing like shit.”

“Wow, thanks for the support.” Beomgyu snorts, looking hurt, but you won’t let him get away with guilt-tripping you for his questionable behavior. “No. You won’t do that. You won’t make me feel bad for calling you out on your shit. What the hell are you even doing? You’re jeopardizing your whole career by acting like a goddamn idiot. What has gotten into you?”

He looks down, not answering you.

“You weren’t like this. Not before she came along.” You mutter and his head snaps up to look at you. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Fuck, why did you even bring it up? Now you’ll get into an even bigger fight. “It means that maybe she is a bad influence on you, with all the parties and the drinking and shit.”

“That’s fucking rich coming from the girlfriend of the party animal himself.” And there it is.

“Why are you so fucking obsessed with Yeonjun? I thought he was your friend.”

“He is not my friend anymore. Not after what he did.” Beomgyu speaks as if Yeonjun has stabbed him in the back when he may have given him a warning before it’s too late. If he hadn’t said anything, Beomgyu wouldn’t know the band is even considering kicking him out.

“You’re bringing it on yourself. If you would just not drink on the fucking job then your career wouldn’t be at risk right now.”

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.��

“I am not taking anyone’s side.”

“Well, you should!” He screams, clearly getting emotional. “You’re my best friend. You should be on my side! They’re fucking threatening to take my dream away and all you can think about is defending your boyfriend.”

“I am being your best friend! A real best friend calls you out when you’re making a mistake before it’s too late.” You try to clarify, “Beomgyu, I don’t know why you’re doing this but I don’t want you to ruin this for yourself.”

“I’m just stressed out.” He says slowly, “Which you would know if you had bothered being a friend and asked.”

Now maybe you shouldn’t get into it now, but you can’t help being peeved by what he said, and you just blurt out, “It’s hard to ask when you’re so busy getting your face sucked off by her.”

He’s been hanging out with her so often that you hardly even see him anymore. How the hell are you supposed to know what he’s feeling if you don’t even see him?

But of course, Beomgyu takes it in another direction, the direction where his dick is doing all the talking.

“Aw, are you jealous, baby?” He goads, getting all up in your face. “You miss kissing me?”

“Jealous?” You laugh forcefully, the jealousy indeed burning through you and firing you up. “Yeah right, I can have you begging for me any time I want to.”

“Oh, please." He scoffs, his denial irritating you.

"It's not like I haven't done it before. All I have to do is give your cock a couple of pumps and you'd be whining like a bitch."

His breathing hitches for a second before he counters back. "I was just humoring you. It didn’t even feel that good."

Oh, hell no. The only thing you managed to have with Beomgyu is getting him to need your touch the same way you need his love, and you'll be damned if you let anyone take that from you, even Beomgyu.

You curse him out under your breath as you charge forward and push him against the wall, crashing your lips together.

And for someone who just basically claimed to not want you, he sure as hell is eager to reciprocate… damn it, this was bait, wasn't it? That whore.

Oh, well, now that you started, you can't get yourself to stop now. You've fucking missed the feeling of him pressed needily against you and the all the little noises he makes when he's turned on. You need to have him again. You need him to admit he's addicted to your touch. You need to hear him beg.

And it doesn't look like it's gonna be hard when the first thing out of his mouth as soon as you part is, "Touch me."

“You’re so fucking needy.” You mutter, hand trailing up his thigh slowly, intentionally teasing him. “I thought your girlfriend lets you fuck her everyday.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He says, shocking you, and against reason, that makes you happy. “We just mess around.”

"Sad." You say with faux sympathy, finally grabbing his cock, making his breathing waver. "What about you? Is he your boyfriend?"

Maybe you shouldn’t be having his discussion with your hand cupping his dick. You don’t know if you should tell him the truth, but he did so you should too, right?

"He's not my boyfriend. We just mess around."

“What… what do you do with him?” He asks slowly, “Do you let him touch you?”

“Yes.” You admit, watching his reaction closely. You know he’s asking it because you never let him touch you, and if you wanna annoy him, you’d tell him the truth. Which you do. "I let him touch me. I let him eat me out too."

His face changes just like you hoped it would. "Slut.".

You laugh, hooking your finger into the chain link on the collar he’s wearing and tugging on it a little. "I'm the slut? Not you who is practically begging for me to touch your cock when you’re already getting off with another woman?"

"Whatever. I don’t want whatever STDs you caught from Yeonjun anyway." He tries to walk away but you shove him back against the wall, your body pressed tightly against his. "Really? You don’t want this?"

"No.” He tenses, but his body betrays him, leaning into you.

“Oh, really? So you don’t want me to pull your pants down and jerk you off just the way you like?” You pull tighter on his collar while feeling the exact imprint of his hardening cock through his pants.

“No.” He gulps, uncertainty clear in the way his voice wavers.

“Hmm, and if I were to offer to take you into my mouth, you would say no to that?” You brush your lips against his as your thumb swipes across the head of his cock. “You’d say no to my hot, wet mouth around your needy, pathetic cock?”

“Shit.” He shudders, his breathing getting ragged and his eyes getting hazy–tell-tale signs that he’s a goner.

“What is it, baby? Want me to let go?” You feel wetness gather under your thumb, soaking through his pants. Is he not wearing any underwear? Fuck.

“No, fuck. Want it. Want your mouth.” He finally admits, his eyes fixed on your mouth.

“Okay.” You swipe your tongue over your lips, teasing him. "But first, admit you're the slut."

He blinks, a moment of clarity shining in his eyes. "No."

“No?” You laugh, bringing your hand to your face and licking it before you slide it under his pants, taking a hold of his cock and giving it a firm stroke, feeling his knees buckle for a second.

“You don’t want my pretty mouth wrapped around your dick?” Your face is so close to his, lips brushing against his every once in a while but every time he tries to close the gap and kiss you, you pull him back by the collar away. “No. Bad dog. If you want it, you have to play nice.”

“Shit…Okay. You win. I want it.” He confesses, but you don’t give in as easily as he does. “Say it. Tell me what you are.”

“I’m a slut.” He whimpers and you smile, squeezing his cock as a reward. “That’s right, Beommie. You’re a slut who goes all dumb over the promise of a warm mouth. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes. Please. I really want it.” He begs, hips timidly thrusting forward. “I need it. I need you.”

Okay, it doesn’t matter what went on before this. Just hearing him say those three words, that he needs you, is enough for you to get on your knees. “See? I told you I’d get you to beg.”

But Beomgyu doesn’t care, only focusing on one thing which is you pulling his pants down, letting his cock spring up before grabbing it in your hands and bending forward to give it a few licks–getting it wet just like Yeonjun showed you.

But it’s not hard to get Beomgyu wet when he’s already dripping precum for you. Fuck, even his body is slutty.

“There you go. Now that wasn’t so hard.” You tease, brushing your lips back and forth over the head of his cock.

"Please, put it in your mouth." He chokes, bucking up into your hand. “I want it! I really want it. Please!”

You open your mouth, only taking the tip, not just to tease him but get yourself ready for more. But the virgin doesn’t have the self-restraint of Yeonjun, and his hips shoot forward, gagging you on his cock.

You immediately pull back, glaring up at him. “Do you want me to stop? Do you want to go back to your room and fuck your cum into my panties like you’ve been doing before?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Keep your hips still or I’ll stop.” You hiss, and he nods pitifully. “Yes, baby.”

There he goes again, calling you baby as if you were his lover. Though you guess he calls Haeun the same and she’s not his lover either.

You take him in your mouth again, this time daring to take more of him, knowing whatever you do, he’ll like it anyway. And he does. You can see his nails scraping against the wall behind him as he struggles to keep his body still. “Oh, thank you. Fuck, thank you.”

He’s such a loser. You love it so much.

Spurred on by his pathetic display, you make yourself go further and further down his cock, your tongue swiping back and forth on the sensitive underside, getting him so worked up. And he doesn’t even try to hide it.

"Fuck, so good. You’re so perfect.” He gushes, staring at you taking his cock. “You look so pretty with my dick in your mouth."

"Do I?" You pull back to answer before taking him in your mouth but this time, you don’t move, just letting the weight of him rest on your tongue.

"Fuck, don't do this to me. Please move." He whimpers, but doesn’t dare to move you. You keep still, but swallow around him, making his thighs go rigid with the effort to not thrust forward and fuck your face. “Fuck…fuck… you’re gonna kill me.”

You smile, humming around him happily, making him go delirious. “God, I wanna take a picture of you like that."

“Pervert.” You glare at him, finally pulling back. "Does she let you do that?"

He shrugs, making you more angry. What the hell does that mean? Is that a yes or a no? Is his phone just full of pictures of Haeun with his dick in her mouth?

“Is that what she does?” You prod, grabbing his cock a little too tightly, punishingly. "Or is she too good to suck your dick?"

"Yeah, she does.” He scoffs, puffing his chest out. “She always sucks me off after the shows."

Is that where they disappear to? Why did you even ask? Why do you have to hurt yourself this way?

"And I guess she didn't get the chance to today." You mutter, hoping he doesn’t hear the bitterness in your voice.

"Uh-huh. Doesn't matter. I wanted to try your mouth anyway." He confirms, so casually crushing you while making you feel like nothing but a fucktoy in the same breath.

"Fucking whore." You scowl, pulling back and watching him bucking in the air, seeking the warmth of your mouth again. Are you just a mouth for him? A pair of warm hands? The girl who’ll get him off even if he treats her like a toy?

"I know I'm a whore but please. I need it."

There it is again.

You know you should just get up and leave him all high and dry, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you like that, long hair all tousled and lips inexplicably bitten raw despite the fact that he has made no effort to hide his noises so far, moaning and gasping and whimpering so loud you’re sure the neighbors think he’s a camboy or something.

“Yeah? You need me?” You prompt and he nods harshly. “Yes, need you so bad. You don’t even know.”

You suppose you can’t blame him for treating you like a toy when just a little cry and whine is enough to get you to give in to him.

"Are you going to be a good boy?" You taunt as if you had any real power over him. Still, Beomgyu reacts as if you do, nodding again. "I'll be good, I swear."

“Lift your shirt up.” You order, and he obeys, pulling his mesh shirt up.

God, he’s becoming as much of a flirt as Yeonjun, wearing these revealing outfits on stage and teasing the fans with winks and lip bites. You’re sure he’s collecting his own groupies now too, and soon it won’t just be Haeun you’re competing with.

Suddenly, you’re filled with the urge to punish him.

“Higher.” You tell him, instructing him to lift his shirt up until his pretty nipples are in view before reaching out to play with them. “Good boy.”

The effect on Beomgyu is instant, his hips shooting forward, his cock seeking some relief which you don’t give him for a while, choosing instead to watch him squirm as you thumb and pull at his nipples until they turn puffy and red.

“Fuck, please…” He cries, cock weeping in need.

“You’re so sensitive, Beommie.” You lick up some of the precum dribbling down his cock, just light touches that drive him even more insane, teasing him until he’s almost crying.

You know you shouldn't compare. Yeonjun has a lot of experience while Beomgyu is a horny virgin but you thrive off how enthusiastic and needy he gets whenever you touch him, like he would die if you stop.

“Please, please, please…” He keeps repeating, holding his shirt up to expose himself to you like a slut as he pleads with you to put your mouth on him and end his suffering. “I need you. Please.”

You finally wrap your lips around him once he says the magic words, bopping your head up and down his length, relishing in the taste and feeling of him on your tongue so much that you don’t notice at first that he’s trying to get away after only a few bops of your head.

“Stop. Stop!” He squeals, his hands flying to grab at your hair, finally catching your attention.

“What is it?” You ask, worried. Did you do something wrong?

“Was gonna cum.” He gasps as if that explained anything.

“So? You can cum in my mouth.” You offer, thinking maybe he wanted to give you a warning. But of course that’s not what the horny bastard is worried about.

“Oh.” His cock twitches, and you swear he almost came right there. “But… I don’t wanna cum yet. Don’t want it to stop.”

Immediately, you pull back, grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the wall. “You don’t get to ask for things. You just stand there and keep your hands to yourself and take whatever I give you. Understood?” You hiss, and he tries to argue, “But baby–”

You ignore him, grabbing his cock and jerking him off. “Shut up, Beomgyu. I don’t want to hear anything from you except those slutty moans you love to make.”

Even that turns him on, and he squirms under you. “No. No, please, too fast. Don't want it to stop." He cries deliriously and you laugh evilly.

“Don’t you wanna cum in my mouth, baby? I’ll open wide.” You smirk before letting your mouth fall open and sticking your tongue out, mimicking what you know is one of his favorite parts of porn videos as you had seen on his non-so-secret nsfw twitter account all too often.

And just as expected, the pervert loses it with a loud broken cry, spurting his cum all over your tongue and parts of your face.

You pull your tongue back with a grin, and he watches in rapt attention, waiting for you to swallow it just the way he likes. But you don’t. Instead you spit it back on his cock, grabbing the sensitive member in your hand and jerking it off quickly and cruelly.

"What are you doing?" He panics, writhing harder in your hold.

"You said you wanted more." You act innocent, but your hands are all but, twisting around him just like you learned from Yeonjun.

“Not this!” He squeaks, trying to pull away. "Hurts!"

“Suck it up. You said you’ll be a good boy. Are you going to disappoint me?”

You didn’t expect that to work but it did. He bites down on his lip, swallowing down most of his pained cries, his hands pulling so hard on his shirt, it tears, but he doesn’t once try to push you away.

He takes it so well, you actually start feeling bad for him and rethinking your punishment. But when you try to pull away, he lets out a loud sob. “No. Please! Need it. Need it, baby."

“But I thought you wanted me to stop?” You ask, confused, and he shakes his head, sparkling tears falling off his eyelashes.

“Is it feeling good again? You coo, massaging his tense thigh with your free hand.

“Uh-huh. So good.” His mouth was almost permanently hung open now, a little bit of drool dribbling out. “You’re so pretty.”

Even though he’s all dumbed out and you’re sure he doesn’t even know what he’s saying right now, it still makes your heart flutter. He thinks you’re pretty.

But then an ugly thought comes into your mind. Is he like this with her? Is he just as loud and desperate? Will he just say anything to get what he wants? You haven’t heard him be like this the tortuous couple of times you have had to endure listening to them, but maybe he is the one in charge when he’s with her. Maybe he has her to fuck and has you to fuck him, so he’d be getting the best of both worlds. You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that’s why he keeps pushing for more from you even when he has her.

“I’m–I’m there, b-baby.” He stutters out, his hips moving a bit, but you don’t punish him for it because you don’t think he’s even aware of it. Besides, you don’t feel up for this anymore.

“Cum for me, Beommie.” You order, taking him in your mouth, and it doesn’t take long for the wet heat of it to have him cumming again. You take it in your mouth like last time, not swallowing it.

Instead, you get up, grabbing him by the jaw and kissing him, forcing him to take his own cum. But Beomgyu doesn’t even flinch, kissing you back hungrily, letting you push your tongue into his mouth as he sucks on it needily.

When you finally pull back, you see the mess you’ve made of him–panting heavily, his lips swollen and red, coated with your saliva and his own cum, some of it smeared along his chin.

But he doesn’t care, smiling at you. “Fuck, that was hot.”

You frown at that. You don’t know what you expected him to say. That you sucked him off so good, he now realizes you’re the one for him? That he’ll ditch Haeun and be with you only? You’re a disaster.

“Get cleaned up and go to bed.” You tell him, heading towards the kitchen, suddenly in desperate need for some water to clear your mouth. God, what are you even doing?

But Beomgyu isn’t done with you, and he follows after you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your neck. “Beomgyu…” You warn. You can’t deal with this right now. You’re too fragile.

“Please…” He begs sweetly, knowing the way to your heart. His hands slither up your waist to cup your breasts, his fingers ghosting over your nipples causing a burning white sensation to shoot down between your legs.

“Just let me take care of you for once.” He pleads, pulling lightly on your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, fanning the fire brewing in your belly.

You can let him just one time right? You’d be getting yourself off in bed dreaming of his touch anyway so why can’t you let him help you rub one out just this once? That way you can head straight to sleep and let your tired bones rest so you wouldn’t have to think about what you just did, so you’d get one night’s relief from the crushing feeling of your unreciprocated love.

“You can’t take my clothes off.” You finally relent. Yes, you’re out of your mind but you’re still deeply insecure and worried what he’ll think.

“Just the shirt.” He growls, pulling on it. “Want it off.”

You’re confused for a second by his aggression before you realize you’re wearing Yeonjun’s merch.

“No. The shirt stays on.” You insist, partly due to your insecurity and partly to annoy him.

He’s not happy about it. You can tell by the way he bites down on the junction between your neck and your shoulder, but honestly that just turns you on more.

One of his hands leaves your breasts to go down your body, shimmying under your waistband to reach your pussy.

“Fuck…” He sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how wet you are. He immediately starts rubbing your pussy, not attempting to tease at all. “You’re so wet.”

You freeze. Is that good? Is it bad? Does he think you’re too wet?

“So sexy. Driving me crazy.” He groans, sucking on your sensitive neck and rolling your nipple between his fingers, dispelling your ridiculous doubts. You spread your legs a little, giving his fingers easier access to your pussy, and his long fingers rub along the entire length of your slit, not leaving one part untouched, overwhelming your poor body, all while his mouth never ceases to kiss and such along your neck. “Yes, baby, just like that, spread those legs for me. Let me make your pussy feel good.”

Fuck, he’s so lewd, it’s so sexy. You don’t even care that he’s probably leaving so many hickies along your neck that in the morning you’ll look like you’ve been ravaged by a wild animal. All you care about right now is his relentless attack on your body.

His words and touches have made your brain go fuzzy that you let him unbutton your pants, shoving them down your thighs so he can squeeze two fingers inside you at once.

“Oh god, you’re so tight. So soft. You’re perfect.” He moans as if he’s the one getting pleasure. You don’t know who is more desperate here, you or him. His words feel almost as pleasurable as his hands. You've never imagined Beomgyu saying this to you. You were always so insecure of what he'll think. You were worried about him even touching you. If you knew this is how he would react, maybe you would’ve let him do it sooner.

Or maybe not. You don’t know what this will do to your heart once your pussy gets its fill. But it’s hard to think about that when he’s panting against your neck. “Fuck, fuck… You like it, baby? Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, Beommie. You’re such…such a good boy.” You praise, and he keens, one of his hands returning to your breasts. "Can I see your tits? Wanna see your pretty tits."

Fuck it, you’ll give him what he wants at this point. You just really need him to make you cum.

“Okay…” You relent, and as soon as the word is out of your mouth, he’s pulling the shirt up over your breasts to expose them.

“So pretty.” He whines, wetting his fingers before returning them back to your nipple, rubbing the poor sensitive thing until you can’t hold your own body weight anymore. You lean against him, the wet sound of his fingers fucking your pussy open reaching your ears, but you feel too good to let the embarrassment or security in right now.

“God, I wanna fuck these.” Beomgyu grunts, pulling at your other nipple, his hips grinding against your ass as if he’s imagining doing just that. “Can I, baby?”

"No. Be good." You warn. You’ll go crazy if he stops. “I’m close. Don’t ruin it now.”

“I won’t. I promise, I won’t.” He lets go of your abused nipples and grabs you by the hair, turning your head towards him so he can kiss you. “Need you to cum on my fingers, baby. I need it more than anything. Please. Will you cum for me?”

“Y-yeah… I’ll cum for you..” You say as if you had any choice in the matter, as if your body would’ve let you retain any dignity.

You break down on his fingers, clenching around them as the orgasm shoots through you in little pants and needy mewls which Beomgyu hungrily devours with his mouth.

“You’re so hot.” He heaves against your lips, kissing you again and again long after your orgasm is over.

“Beomgyu–” You start to say, the brain fog clearing up.

“I need more.” He moans, the words jolting through your brain as it’s waking up.

What?

You feel his hands messing around with your pants, trying to take them off your body completely, and when he drops to the floor to pull them off your leg, you quickly stop him.

“What are you doing?” You exclaim, grabbing onto your pants and trying to pull them back up. But Beomgyu holds onto them tightly.

“Please, want to taste you.” He begs, clearly still in the throes of lust.

“No.” You hiss, and he whines. “Why not? I’ve become really good at it. Had lots of practice.”

God, you feel sick.

“No!” You push him away and he falls on his ass.

“What? So he can eat you out and I can’t? You can suck me off but I can’t taste you?” He asks angrily and you roll your eyes. “Yes. That’s exactly it."

As if his horny brain could ever understand how all of this makes you feel. All he cares about is that Yeonjun got something and he didn’t, like you’re a piece of candy Yeonjun swiped from him.

“You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” He huffs, getting up. “Why won’t you let me taste you?”

“I don’t need to let you do anything.” You shout at him, putting your pants back on, hoping that would lessen the humiliation coursing through your veins. “I don’t owe you anything and you need to get that through your fucking head. But it’s my mistake because I keep letting this happen. This has got to stop.”

"Why? I like it and you like it too." He looks at you for confirmation and you look away, but Beomgyu is not deterred, grabbing you by the shoulders. "Come on, I know you feel it too. It's different when we're together. I know it is for me. It doesn't feel like that with Haeun. Does it feel like this with Yeonjun?"

“What feels different?” You confront him, daring to ask the forbidden question. “What is this?”

He frowns, stumbling back and taking his hands off you as if you’d burned him. “Sex?”

Right. Typical guy behavior when faced with the remotest possibility of intimacy.

You laugh sadly. “Beomgyu, are you with Haeun or not?” You have to know. You have to know what he’s even doing. Are both you and Haeun just a way for him to get his dick wet?

"Do you not want me to be?” He answers your question with another question, catching you off guard.

“N-no–you can do whatever you want. Why would I care?” You immediately deny, fear and anxiety gripping your heart. You can’t let him know how you feel, especially not after he just basically confirmed he’s just here for the sex.

He’s silent for a few moments, just staring at you as if he can see through your lies. God, please no. You can’t handle the shame of it.

But he just shrugs. “Well, if you don’t care then what’s the problem, right? Me and Haeun aren’t exclusive so you and I can keep doing this.”

His words make you feel disgusted. That’s all he thinks of this, that’s all he thinks of you–just some fun to be had so he can get his rocks off

“I don’t think so.” You finally say and he frowns. “Why not? I thought you said Yeonjun isn’t your boyfriend.”

"He’s not.”

He smiles widely, moving to grab you again but you stop him. "But I want him to be. I want to try it seriously with him."

“Why? What do you even like about him?” He asks, irritated.

“He’s sweet–” Beomgyu rolls his eyes, preparing to protest but you keep going, not giving him a chance. “He cares about me. He’s charming. He’s talented. He’s funny.”

“So? I’m all of those things.”

Yes, you are. And much more. But you don’t love me the way I love you.

“So I want a boyfriend, Beomgyu, not a fuckbuddy.”

“Right.” He scoffs, “Good luck getting that from Yeonjun.”

With that, he turns around and leaves you feeling sick in your own skin.

___________________

A/N: feedback gives me the motivation and energy to write more so if you want the next chapter as quickly as possible, drop in a message or a comment telling me what you think 😘

As some of you know, this might've been the last gyu smut scene, but if I were to include another one, would you rather it be sub!gyu or dom!gyu?

i can't include another poll so i'll skip the "who do you want oc to end up with" this time, but you can let me know anyway

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

#txt smut #sub!idol #sub!txt #sub!beomgyu #sub!gyu #dom!reader

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drvscarlett · 2 months

Text

About You Pt3

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife

2009, Hungaroring

There was at least 2 weeks before Formula 1 went back to racing. It means that there was 2 weeks for Y/N to hide herself and that embarrassing situation she was in. 2 weeks to prepare herself how to pretend on how to act if she sees Sebastian.

'As long as Sebastian does not bring it up then I will pretend that nothing happened' she told herself.

She tried not to think about the incident by allowing herself to be buried with answering emails and looking into other things needed pre-race.

"Did you eat already?"

A sudden orange appeared in between her and the computer screen. Y/N didn't have to look up to see which driver handed the orange because there was only one driver who would always give her an orange.

"I haven't got the chance yet"Y/N replied to Sebastian

"You should probably eat. It's not good that you aren't eating" Sebastian insisted "Can't Mark do these things?"

"I'm his personal assistant remember, I'm paid to do these"

"But is it really necessary to finish it at the moment?"

It was pointless to argue with Sebastian so Y/N took the orange and closed her laptop.

"Happy?"she asked

"Very much"

The two of them started eating the oranges brought by Sebastian. It was a habit that the two have, Sebastian calls it a pre-race ritual. He actually believes he performs better when they share oranges. So here they are sitting and enjoying the oranges.

In the back of their minds, they are both thinking about that night at the hotel but there is a certain peace between the them. They don't want to ruin things by saying something stupid.

"You heard what happened with Massa right?"Y/N tried to establish a new topic just to get things off her overthinking.

"Absolutely felt bad for him. It's a good thing that he seems to be in a stable condition"Sebastian said.

The qualifying incident yesterday has been terrifying to watch. Y/N didn't want that happening to either Sebastian or Mark or even any other driver. Her heart dropped when she saw Massa being wheeled out unconscious to the hospital.

"Do you sometimes think that you'll ever stop racing?"Y/N wondered "You have been racing since you were like young and now you are stil racing"

"I honestly don't know, racing is all I have ever known" Sebastian admitted.

"I know, you were born gripping on a steering gear I bet" Y/N joked which made Sebastian laugh too.

"But seriously, if you ever want to retire of racing. Don't retire and go out because you got badly injured. Retire because you want to"Y/N added

It was her way of saying that she is extremely cared about him. Maybe its something that she cannot put into words but maybe Sebastian can figure it all out, he is a smart man in Y/N's opinion.

With a comforting smile, Y/N was assured that he got the message.

2009, Spa-Francorchamps

"Did you try texting Mark?"

Christian Horner and Sebastian Vettel are both in a meeting room about to discuss some things with the team strategists. They were supposed to meet up 10 minutes ago but they can't go on with the meeting since Mark is not around.

It was highly unusual for Mark to be late. He is never late as far as Sebastian knows. He considers giving Y/N a text when the door burst open.

"I'm gonna punch Button in the face when I see him"Mark Webber was fuming when he entered late at the conference room.

"Hold on, what did Jenson do?"

"Punk tried to ask my sister out"Mark huffed.

"He did what?" Christian butted in the conversation "I thought Sebastian was dating Y/N"

"HOLD ON WHAT?" "EXCUSE ME?"

The two red bull drivers were on their feet. Mark seems to be ready to hit Sebastian while Sebastian was debating which exit is much more safer. Frankly, Sebastian was never afraid of Mark but with the way he is shooting daggers with his eyes- If looks could kill, Sebastian was 4 feet under ground now.

"I just thought Sebastian was dating Y/N, they are always together when she isn't following you around Mark" Christian explained.

"My sister and Sebastian?" Mark repeated

Sebastian wanted to explain himself to Mark but he is internally panicking. If Christian, their team principal, can notice then there is a big chance that his feelings might be obvious to other people in the paddock.

At the same time, he felt a sick feeling in his stomach upon realizing that Jenson Button asked out Y/N. Jenson had the courage to ask her out and Sebastian couldn't even talk to Y/N about what happened weeks ago.

Christian seems to sense the tension that he brought to the two red bull drivers

"Maybe its just me and my understanding, right seb?" Christian apologized

"Huh yeah, mmhh nothing going on" Sebastian lied

There was a sharp gaze from Mark "I'm watching you"

"Let's talk about Jenson"Christian redirected the topic "maybe he is just trying to get a rise off you. We're slowly closing on him for the championship"

"If I hit that boy with a car this Sunday, I won't regret it" Mark swears.

"Don't bring your personal life on the car" Christian reminded.

Sebastian seems to take it as a mental note for himself as well. He was actually debating that if Mark wasn't successful in punting Jenson then he would.

"Besides Y/N has to date, she is in that age of dating" Christian added

Sebastian knew that Mark has been the kind of sibling that is overly protective. Given that Y/N has been the youngest one and the one that has been following Mark around, Mark has a special worry about her. It was very understandable why he acts like this.

"As much as I could, I will not let my sister date drivers." Mark says with finality.

It felt like it wasn't just a statement meant for Jenson but it was also something meant for Sebastian. Great, now Sebastian feels like everything is more complicated than it was before.

2009, Interlagos

It wasn't Y/N's brightest idea that she went on a date with Jenson Button. She figured after weeks of being constantly asked by Jenson, she should give him a chance. She thought it could also help lessen her feelings for Sebastian.

It's a pretty bad idea now that she thinks about it.

But there was no going back because here she is sitting with Jenson at a small restaurant somewhere in Brazil.

Don't get her wrong but Jenson is charming and he knows how to make people comfortable. He is a gentleman, he picked her up with roses, asked her for her favorite dish, and was kind enough to lend his jacket when she is feeling a bit cold.

But there is something missing about Jenson.

"You know, I really enjoy spending time with you tonight"Jenson started "But are you enjoying yourself?"

"I'm sorry its just that its my first time going out for dates, I'm not good with this sort of thing" Y/N replied

"That's okay, I'm glad to be the first one to take you out"

Y/N felt the guilt of lying eating her up so she quickly wanted to clear out the air "Jenson, you are a really nice guy but you know I really think its better if we become friends instead?"

There was a small smile from the British driver. It seems like he has also felt that he was about to be friendzoned tonight.

"It's perfectly fine Y/N, I just really enjoy your company"

The dinner continued on more smoothly and they were able to share some personal details about their life. It felt like an air of relief for the two of them to clear out things that this will not be a failed date but rather a new friendship.

The media on the other hand has seen a different story.

Jenson Button winning on and off track against Red Bull?

In case you missed it, the newly declared Formula 1 champion, Jenson Button, has been seen in a restaurant in Brazil having dinner with a very special lady. Who is this mystery lady? It's Mark Webber's sister and personal assistant, Y/N.

The pairing is a shocker for everyone since Red Bull is the main competitor of Button this season. It seems like the two are a star crossed lovers in the making. People who have been in the restaurant has noted how the pair were giggling and close to one another.

We can't wait what Mark will have to say about this pairing.

2009, Yas Marina Circuit

"Sebastian please just slow down"Y/n begged.

It was really petty for Sebastian to be angry and ignore Y/N but he felt really confused on how to act around her. Ever since he read that stupid article, its all that he could think about. So while he couldn't deal with his emotions then he thinks its best to avoid her like the plague.

"I'm busy" Sebastian's curt reply

"Oh c'mon, you are not busy. You are ignoring me" Y/N was still hot in trail "This is so childish and stupid"

"Me? Stupid?" Sebastian stopped and turned to face her.

"You are calling me stupid when you are the one out there having dinner with the enemy"Sebastian wasn't thinking at this point.

"The enemy? Do you think I'm giving out secrets to Jenson?" she asked in shock

"Yes, Jenson is our enemy. You should have not gone on a dinner date with him, don't you have any sense of loyalty to the team?"

Sebastian could see the tears starting to form in her eyes. He knows that he said the wrong things and its not something that he can take back. Everything was just so heated.

"You believe those tabloids than me?"

"I don't know what to believe. You two looked pretty cozy on that front page" Sebastian really wanted to shut himself by now but jealousy is a sick sick disease that cannot be stopped.

"That's real mature of you Seb, you disappoint me" she sounds so defeated "Out of everyone, you were one of the people who I thought would believe me rather than what was painted by the media"

"Y/N you can't fault me on that, you were close"

"We were just friends and besides I-" she caught herself to stop.

There was a confession at the other end of Y/N. She almost confessed how she cannot see herself with Jenson because all she can see is how he is not Sebastian and all she wants to love is Sebastian. It was a good thing she caught herself before she slipped again.

"Besides what?" Sebastian wondered.

"Never mind. Talk to me when you mature"

"Yeah that's real mature, run away when you don't wanna face the consequences of your actions" Sebastian chastised.

Y/N felt that her tears are falling so she could only turn away and run the other direction. Sebastian, on the other hand, felt like hitting himself. It was the type of conversation he wanted to avoid because he could not contain his emotions. He bitterly regrets how this was their last conversation for 2009.

#sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagines #sebastian vettel x oc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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