#mock trading games

[nylwnder]

can i just go one fucking day without the depressing talks of trading x top player. like gawd. calm the fuck down you scums. it’s a FUCKING GAME. it’s a FUCKING SPORT. these are REAL PEOPLE who are NOT going to be PERFECT ALL THE FUCKING TIME. clearly we have learned that from many other teams and players this year. like it’s boring and i’m sick of it!

[theminecraftbee]

Here is how to slowly, completely, and irrevocably fall into having someone know your soul as well as you do theirs:

First, be enemies, but of circumstance. Neither of you were really on opposite sides so much as connected to them. You think he loved them, though, that side that was only your enemy by virtue of not being your ally. He loved them, even if he didn't spend as much time with them. You mock him for this. For calling their leader 'king'. (Later, you'll hold onto mockery like it's all you have. You know it's not a game and you know he was really king, but without your ability to make fun of what's happening, you won't be much at all.)

You have a best friend then. This, too, is almost an accident, although to explain all the ways it's also on purpose will take longer than you have to explain. He's wonderful, and loyal, and going to die. So you die fast and young first, before him. You die in front of your friend. You die in front of him.

You don't regret it, the dying young, because it means you die before anyone else can die for you.

Second, watch your best friend fall in love with him, although that phrase feels both too pedestrian and too much like it's overstating the thing that really happens. You have your own drama for too long to really understand how it happens, of course. You're too busy facing a betrayal that will scrape the inside of your soul forever. (To tell the truth, you've already forgiven him for it, but there's something easy about being each other's enemies, so you keep going, orbiting around each other in betrayal betrayal betrayal. But that's someone else who knows your soul, another story.)

Then your best friend dies, as does nearly everyone else. You sit around a campfire with him. You tell him that your best friend trusts him; you'll trust him too. He stands by your side near the end, the two of you running together, another man's memories on your lips.

You're not sure what you regret, then, but you know there's something that won't undo that's a part of you now.

Third, learn the value of choices, as the universe tries its best to take yours from you. In this one, the people you're by the side of is at once familiar and strange. The finalists who'd protected you last time are now an ugly mix of your chosen soulmate and your enemy by making that choice; you attempt to hold on to your ability to choose even as blood makes it clear you can't. (The universe tried to pick someone who would fit you well, you realize later. More people who know your soul that this story isn't actually about. You care for him too, is the thing; you care for choosing more.)

You don't see him much, this time. You respect each other, though. It's hard not to respect each other after everything that's happened. Still, you don't see him, and he doesn't see you. Instead, you see the end of the game. You nearly hold it in your fingers.

You regret. You regret deeply. You are so tired of watching people die, you think, and you regret more than anything else that you couldn't stop it.

Fourth, become enemies, but this time intentionally. Enemies, maybe, is a strong word; you're assigned co-parents, except bad, divorced ones. There's something hysterical about the whole thing, in both the comedic sense of the word and in the original, more concerning sense, especially given the way you all have thought about your best friend-now-son in the past. (Family ties are a thing you'll come to value; it's just that what the names are don't count, really, not when you do this again and again and again. Plus, it's nice to be able to have an excuse to yell.)

It's almost fun again. Maybe it's almost fun. You trade barbs with each other, and try to kill each other, and this time the consequences are light enough that you try to help each other, too. You see each other a lot. You're enemies, of course, but you see each other a lot, as you are: scared, and tired, and not as frightening as you appear, and happy, despite it all.

You don't regret much. You die fast and young, alongside your allies. You see his face before you do though, and you think he's the one with regrets.

Fifth, trip over him as you run across the first session of a new game. You don't know yet what this one will be, if it will be betrayals, or more stolen choices, or family, or fun, or anything else, but you look him in the eyes and make a choice. You will be friends this time instead of enemies. And it's nice. He and you fit together oddly now, but well, despite the oddities. You've had time to learn to, from a distance, and then closer and closer. (People seem baffled you're friends now. You wish you could explain that that's how these stories go sometimes.)

You're pretty certain he'll leave you when the time comes. He says he's a runner, and not a protector, and yet, when the time comes to betray you, you both know he won't hurt you, and you're both surprised anyway.

"You might regret this," you tell him quietly. You both have scars.

"You might regret this," he agrees. But you also both have choices.

"Okay," you say. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

"Cleo," he says, brushing your hair aside, and he doesn't answer.

"I don't think I have," you say honestly. "I think it's something else. Have you ever accidentally given someone a piece of your soul?"

"All the time," he says, and that's that.

The end is coming soon. You'll find out if you regret it.

[ferritins]

THIS TORNADO LOVES YOU | S. RILEY

SUMMARY: Simon takes a step you never thought he would, in a way you’d never imagine.

NOTES: the endearment ‘pet’ is used once, in an “author grew up in The Midlands City God Forgot AKA Leicester” way, not the kink way. credit for the idea for this piece goes to @bleuu-moon, who’s post about Simon letting you take off the mask has been living in my head rent free bills and utilities included for ages.

disclaimer; whilst I’m down bad for fictional men who are taller than me, I also an anti-militarism pro disarmament pacifist. COD and other military games a recruitment tool for the armed forces, and PMCs are just a way for governments to outsource war crimes to avoid The Hague. do not enlist; big oil and genocidaires are not worth dying for and armed service will chew you up and shit you out to die as soon as you are physically or psychologically incapable of dying for the sake of capital.

You come home to Simon illuminated by your television, scant blood splotches blackish on his fatigue sleeves.

“Um. Is any of that yours?” You venture, dropping your keys in their designated dish, casting a careful eye over your lover. “I thought we had come to an agreement about you actively bleeding all over my sofa cushions after last time.”

Simon grunts.

You roll your eyes.

“Words, love.”

“Just got back from Santo Domingo.” You hiss a quiet breath through your teeth, wincing as you turn to hang your coat; the boys had been following an organisation of information brokers trading in NATO military intelligence, the kind of people with whom contact was both rare and in its eventuality, incredibly bloody.

Nevertheless, Simon has never been someone who is particularly receptive to sympathy; by the time you turn back around to face him, your face is carefully neutral.

“Did you achieve your mission objective? Wait, more importantly, you didn’t answer my question; are you bleeding?”

There’s a bitter little chuckle. “Affirmative to the first, negative to the second.”

The air sits heavy as you and Simon watch one another, flashes of colour and light bouncing off the skull of his mask like a nightmare in Technicolor.

Just when the tension reaches the point of being unbearable, Simon speaks.

“They knew your name.” He says, voice basso profundo with his gathering fury.

A frisson of fear runs down your spine — not at Simon, not after all this time, but at the information — before dissipating like cigarette smoke in a hurricane.

It’s a target on your back, sure, but it is one of dozens. Your career has made you many enemies.

“They trade in military intelligence, Simon, which is pretty much my entire area of specialty.”

“Do you think this is a joke?”

“Do you think I’m a shrinking violet? What, should I give up my Lance Corporal’s stripe and my job? You met me when I was working signal intercept radio intelligence on RAF Ascension Island, for God’s sake.”

“You’d be safer.” Simon’s voice has taken on as much of a pleading tone as he’s capable of.

“I’d be miserable.” You retort.

“Fuck.” Simon snarls, a savage sigh of breath leaving him. “You know I’m not gonna leave your side after today, pet? Gonna get sick of my face.”

“If this is supposed to irritate me into obscurity, it’s not going to work. I like the mask, and having six foot eight of perfectly built spec ops soldier at my back isn’t exactly a hardship.” You snarl.

“Simon’s head tilts, predatory.

I”I said my face, lovie.”

Your heart starts hammering.

“”Simon, you’ve not been barefaced in front of someone in nigh on a decade. Your personnel file doesn’t have a photograph of you, and the only one that exists of you is redacted so far only His Maj can see it. For fuck’s sake, you’ve torn men’s throats out for so much as touching your mask.”

“Simon hums an affirmative, a mocking note under the tone of it.

“So now you’re scared of what intelligence gathering can lead to? Scared I’ll tear your throat out, hm?”

“Fuck you.” You snarl. “I’m not scared of you. I’m not going to let you violate your own autonomy and boundaries to prove a point, you supercilious son of a—“

“You’re the one taking it off.” Simon interrupts.

“You’re insane.”

“If you’re not going underground to wait this out, I’m gonna be living in your fucking shadow, sweetheart, breathing in your every exhale, and I can’t do that when all they know me for is the mask. The next person to so much as look at you sideways is going to die, slow and bloody, and my face is going to be the last thing they see.”

Your next inhale is shaky. Simon, sensing blood in the water, goes for the kill.

“Either you can look me in the face, acknowledge what you’re dooming anyone who hurts you to, or you back down.”

Even as you’re swinging a leg over both of Simon’s to situate yourself in his lap, you’re aware of how hideously stupid what you’re doing is.

Bolstered my nothing but bravado and an inkling of curiosity, and with your pulse rabbiting, you slowly pull up his balaclava, revealing his face to you piecemeal; a strong jaw, a bottom-heavy mouth, a patrician nose broken thrice and healed right only twice, whispers of long blonde eyelashes, and brown eyes, dark as bitumen.

On anybody else, the features would be discordant, too much dissonance to be cohesive; on Simon, they work.

His face is arresting, more than handsome; you can’t help but look at him.

His top lip is pulled up into a perpetual snarl on the left by a long deep furrow of scar tissue that starts just under his eye.

There’s a silvery scar about a half-inch long from his hair line, and his cheeks are dotted with faint demarcations; nicks from shrapnel and knifepoint, you assume.

All flat eyes and scarring, this is perhaps this most dangerous Simon has looked to you in a while.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say, referring to both your job and Simon’s unmasking. “I’m not backing down.”

Simon is a big man, and has a surprising amount of heft to him, even when he's not trying.

His hands are large enough that even the love tap to your rump has you tipping into him. Your front is pressed to his, and you're looking up, up, up into his eyes, bearing witness to the way hunger floods them, a hungry kind of dark pouring into his gaze like an oil slick in the Mediterranean Sea.

“And I’m not backing off. Hell or high water, death or desertion; we’re in this together for good now, you and I.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this has been in the development hell folder of my Google docs for like two months so if it’s shite that’s no longer my problem I’m afraid 😭🙏🏽 thank you for reading! please do not recommend/repost on TikTok.

[nytb]

If you were mine

Click here first <3

A dinner party leads to a hot encounter with what seems to be a master of all trades, Alexia now filled with lust and desire for more.

“Want to explain why you left in a hurry last night?" Mapi questions her captain, leaving the woman no time to rest after practice ended.

"You know, I could have just wanted to leave"

"If that were the case, Y/N wouldn't have left running after you like there was something to fix" The defender's quick wit taking a hold on the situation "Want to tell me what actually happened?" she smirked.

It wouldn't be implausible that her childhood best friend had laid it on thick on Alexia and it might have somehow backfired. Unrealistic? Yes, but implausible? No.

The midfielder took a quick glance around her, making sure that nobody else would be able to hear her confession.

"God, what didn't happen - " flashbacks from the previous night in her head, smiling from ear to ear.

"Spill it"

"So..." Alexia started "Have you ever not have had to think? Like whatever was happening was meant to happen and it's not like you don't want it to happen so you're just there - happily participating?"

"Ale, I think that you lost me"

"How about you give me another excuse to be around her and I will give you all the details" she smirked, Mapi always loved to know all the gossip, especially when she wasn't involved in it.

"Wait - around wh- " she questioned, only to realize it before finishing her question "You and Y/N?"

"Mhmhm" Alexia nodded, clearly proud of herself.

"Wait so the whole 'you need to celebrate getting a new apartment' thing was a setup?"

"You catch on quick" The midfielder laughed "Sadly, I think that your girlfriend got there first"

Mapi's gossip game was lacking.

"Tell me everything" the defender ran behind Alexia as she made her way to the locker room. The latter turned on her hips, tapping at her friend's shoulder as she punctuated every word "One. More. Excuse." she reminded Mapi of the deal she had previously offered.

It didn't take long for the defender to concoct a plan to trap her childhood best friend in Alexia's reach.

A quick pop up, that her media team would gladly encourage, at a major concert in Barcelona.

"You do know that I hate these things right?" Y/N complained, getting dressed in Mapi's guest bedroom.

"Just think that right after we will go to your favorite sushi bar" the defender, who was sitting on Y/N's temporary bed, said "And if we get real crazy we pop by a tattoo parlor and get a new design on that arm" she smirked.

Clearly Mapi was the influence quiet homebodies begs for.

"I will even skip over the fact that you called Rosalia's concert a thing" she air-quoted the last word "And you should know that that's a serious offense in my book"

Y/N broke in laughter "Sure, because you now listen to the latest music and aren't still caught on the songs your parents still listen to" she mocked.

"Again, I will let that offense slide by" the defender stated "Aren't I an amazing friend" grinning from ear to ear, only to confess the real reason they were heading to a concert.

"Just be aware that this whole thing is a setup"

"Yeah I know, my agent has been grilling me to actually show up this time"

"Oh no cutie, she's not who I'm talking about"

Y/N turned on her feet "You're telling me that you got me to renounce training days just to hook up with one of your friends - again?" This time the boxer didn't sound as happy.

"Yeah because you had such a bad time with them" Mapi mocked "But don't worry, this time I'm not the one that planned who you're meeting"

"I'm not sleeping with your girlfriend's friends Mapi" Y/N crossed her arms, now staring at her childhood friend.

"Loosen up, this is all Alexia's doing."

Y/N's face turned blank, probably thinking about her previous encounter with the Barcelona midfielder.

"Stop daydreaming" the defender threw her friend a shirt "And cover up, you're making me feel frail."

"I have asked you if you wanted to come train with me in the past" she slipped into the tight fitted shirt.

"Yeah, you still need something over that" the defender groaned "Can't have you looking like that."

"Looking like what?" Y/N complained "I always wear this sort of stuff”

"That's the problem" the defender argued "You're always making the rest of us look like potatoes, even us athletes."

"Cheer up, in a couple of years, when all this fighting thing ends I will look just like you." Y/N joked.

"Maybe I should also teach you how to be funny" the defender threw her own dig "For when you can no longer rely on looks to get women"

"I have other traits" Y/N smirked.

"And somehow I think that that's why Alexia is so adamant on seeing you again" Ingrid joined, smiling as she greeted Y/N "What about we actually get going now? I have been keeping watch on that blonde all day - and it's tiring" she joked.

Damn - no wonder Y/N hates these things, people practically glued to one another, screams coming from every direction - this must be what introverts picture hell to be.

Getting greeting and her media press appearances over and done with, Y/N made her way to her VIP gifted tickets.

Being a star with a great agency backing her was a great asset, especially for Mapi as she managed to get a free concert and an easy setup with one single phone call.

"Remind me to thank your agent"

"So you're the one that made this happen" Y/N laughed "You had me thinking that my agent thought I liked this sort of music for a hot minute."

"And what's wrong with this sort of music?" Alexia questioned, shimmying past Ingrid, aiming her question at the boxer.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and I think that I messed up again" she extended her hand out, making a clear reference at their first encounter.

"Funny" Alexia said sarcastically "You should probably get more clothes" she stated "There is nothing wrong about having those peek through every shirt you wear" the midfielder pointed at Y/N's abs "But it's getting a bit repetitive"

"Weird, I was thinking the same thing" Y/N approached Alexia, bringing her into a hug and as she reached her ear she whispered "If you were mine you wouldn't be wearing that right now".

Alexia's excuse of a tank top that barely covered any of her skin wasn't to Y/N’s liking, let alone the short booty shorts she had on - if she was trying to cover the least amount of skin possible she successfully pulled it off.

"Maybe I'll invite you when I go shopping" Y/N disguised her previous statement, allowing herself a quick glance over Alexia's figure "Or send you along my assistant to pick outfits for me" she smirked.

"You have an assistant? Let me give you my assistant's number, maybe they want to be friends" she joked, taking the opportunity to place her hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Maybe it's me who wants her number"

The midfielder's hand flew to her own abdomen, crossing her arms like a discontented child "I liked you more when you were more action and less maybes" Alexia stated, clearly annoyed at the boxer's previous statement.

Y/N snuck into the midfielder's personal space, slightly taking hold of her hips, moving past the group but not before taking the opportunity to whisper at Alexia's ear.

"Jealousy looks good on you"

And she was off, letting everyone knew that she was on the first drink run of the night.

"What was that?" Ingrid questioned, flustered at what just happened "What actually happened between you girls?"

"A lapse in judgement" the midfielder replied, seeing that Y/N was already being wrapped by someone else's body.

Mapi, followed her captain's line of sight, sympathizing with her situation "It's probably not what it looks like" she stuck up for her childhood best friend.

"Don't" Alexia's cold statement put the defender in her place "She's literally salivating at her for goodness sake"

Y/N's return to the group had the drinks she brought along with a couple of women overshadowed, especially by the Barcelona midfielder.

"Found these two in the pit" the boxer laughed, they were also Mapi's friends.

"OMG I haven't seen you girls in forever" pure enthusiasm in her voice, greeting them euphorically.

“See? Only friends" Ingrid spoke at a tune only Alexia would hear

That probably calmed the midfielder's jealousy for a minute, but she would be damned if it were only her that would be feeling that way tonight.

Dancing with strangers, her hands travelling through another person's body, her own fully leaned into it.

Y/N was fuming.

"You think that this is funny" the boxer approached, clearly pissed but hiding it underneath the coldness of her statement "Come with me" she grabbed Alexia's wrist, taking her away from the concert.

“What!?" the midfielder crossed her arms as soon as they got to a less crowded hallway, stopping Y/N dead in her tracks.

"Don't give me attitude" the boxer warned "I will teach you how to behave" and with that statement Alexia found herself up on Y/N's shoulder as she was carried out of there.

The midfielder fought it at first, but seeing Y/N's determination, and being highly attracted at the possibilities of whatever this was leading towards, she simply closed her grip around the boxer's abdomen. Grinning from ear to ear at her previous performance, clearly over the moon that it worked.

Setting Alexia back on her feet right next to Y/N's car, the midfielder made her way to her car's bonnet, leaning against it.

"No." Y/N groaned "I'm not rewarding whatever that was."

"Oh really?" Alexia leaned backwards, resting her weight on her arms firmly placed behind herself "So what will you do?" the midfielder continued, clearly provoking Y/N, being successful at every turn "Punish me?" she smirked.

The boxer's answer was simple. She made her way to Alexia, settling herself between her legs, she pulled the midfielder by her short's waistline, getting her to stand straight.

"I clearly have a lot of things to teach you"

"What if I don't want to be taught"

"Don't lie now" Y/N whispered at the midfielder's lips "There are better things we could be doing than having this" she pointed between the pair of them "conversation"

"This is a conversation to you?"

"I would rather it not be one"

Y/N placed space between them "Get in" she ordered opening the passenger door.

"And if I don't want to?" she argued.

"I would go over there and make you want to get in"

Alexia leaned back onto the bonnet, yet another provocation. Y/N groaned.

"Have it your way" the boxer closed the door roughly, a loud echo on the underground parking filled the air.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you" Y/N groaned at Alexia's ear "I will have you begging for me to let you enter my car"

A promise that would soon be fulfilled.

The boxer pulled Alexia into a rough kiss, exploring her mouth as the midfielder reached for Y/N's shirt, pulling her even closer.

"No." Y/N stated, grabbing the Catalonian's hands away from her shirt, placing them on the car's bonnet "They stay there" she ordered.

For a while they did but as Y/N nibbled at her ear, unbuttoning the midfielder's shorts, she had no other choice than to break the command given to her.

Alexia tried her best to grab onto Y/N's hair, she wished to pull the boxer’s lips back to her mouth, but Y/N reacted quicker.

Grabbing Alexia's neck, firmly choking her she whispered into the midfielder's mouth.

"So disobedient" she started, placing Alexia's hands back on the bonnet "Let's make it easier for you" she smirked

“You move, I stop."

"No" Alexia argued back.

"I told you not to give me attitude, it wasn't a suggestion."

"Or what?"

"You wouldn't want to find that out." she warned

"Actually, I do."

That ignited a flame in Y/N, Alexia was getting what she so eagerly requested.

The boxer rose her hand, placing two fingers on Alexia's lips "Suck" she ordered and the midfielder gladly obliged "So beautiful" Y/N whispered "What a shame that you're so disobedient" she took her fingers back, lowered them into the midfielder's pants "I will teach that out of you"

"It's more fun this way" she argued back

"I will show you how untrue that is"

Y/N roughly inserted both fingers at once, no warmup this time.

"You move, I stop" she reminded Alexia the simple command she had to follow.

As Y/N expertly curled her fingers inside Alexia, bringing the midfielder into a state of pure lust, the Catalonian learned that rolling her hips - as she looked for release - was getting her nowhere, so she fought against her body's urges, at times struggling with it.

The boxer made it her mission to edge Alexia for as long as possible, ignoring every request for release that slipped the midfielder's mouth.

"More" she begged as Y/N worked her clavicle, roughly sucking on it, leaving hickeys only a few people would see.

"Say you want to get into my car."

"I want to" she whispered as she arched her back, looking for release.

"Beg."

"Please" Alexia whispered into Y/N's mouth, making the boxer stop, placing space between the both of them she walked towards the car’s passenger door “Now wasn't that easy” she opened the passenger door again.

"You're just going to leave me here and stop cold turkey on me?" Alexia was raging.

"I don't reward disobedience" Y/N stated "Now, get in."

The midfielder did just that, buttoning her shorts as she gave Y/N a death stare.

"Did I allow you to do that?" the boxer pointed at the short's button.

Alexia's death stare remained, not granting Y/N an answer.

"So disobedient"

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The long, bloody lineage of private equity's looting

Tomorrow (June 3) at 1:30PM, I’m in Edinburgh for the Cymera Festival on a panel with Nina Allen and Ian McDonald.

Monday (June 5) at 7:15PM, I’m in London at the British Library with my novel Red Team Blues, hosted by Baroness Martha Lane Fox.

Fans of the Sopranos will remember the “bust out” as a mob tactic in which a business is taken over, loaded up with debt, and driven into the ground, wrecking the lives of the business’s workers, customers and suppliers. When the mafia does this, we call it a bust out; when Wall Street does it, we call it “private equity.”

It used to be that we rarely heard about private equity, but then, as national chains and iconic companies started to vanish, this mysterious financial arrangement popped up with increasing frequency. When a finance bro’s presentation on why Olive Garden needed to be re-orged when viral, there was a lot off snickering about the decline of a tacky business whose value prop was unlimited carbs. But the bro was working for Starboard Value, a hedge fund that specialized in buhying out and killing off companies, pocketing billions while destroying profitable businesses.

https://www.salon.com/2014/09/17/the_real_olive_garden_scandal_why_greedy_hedge_funders_suddenly_care_so_much_about_breadsticks/

Starboard Value’s game was straightforward: buy a business, load it with debt, sell off its physical plant — the buildings it did business out of — pay itself, and then have the business lease back the buildings, bleeding out money until it collapsed. They pulled it with Red Lobster,and the point of the viral Olive Garden dis track was to soften up the company for its own bust out.

The bust out tactic wasn’t limited to mocking middlebrow family restaurants. For years, the crooks who ran these ops did a brisk trade in blaming the internet. Why did Sears tank? Everyone knows that the 19th century business was an antique, incapable of mounting a challenge in the age of e-commerce. That was a great smokescreen for an old-fashioned bust out that saw corporate looters make off with hundreds of millions, leaving behind empty storefronts and emptier pension accounts for the workers who built the wealth the looters stole:

https://prospect.org/economy/vulture-capitalism-killed-sears/

Same goes for Toys R Us: it wasn’t Amazon that killed the iconic toy retailer — it was the PE bosses who extracted $200m from the chain, then walked away, hands in pockets and whistling, while the businesses collapsed and the workers got zero severance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/business/wp/2018/06/01/how-can-they-walk-away-with-millions-and-leave-workers-with-zero-toys-r-us-workers-say-they-deserve-severance/

It’s a good racket — for the racketeers. Private equity has grown from a finance sideshow to Wall Street’s apex predator, and it’s devouring the real economy through a string of audactious bust outs, each more consequential and depraved than the last.

As PE shows that it can turn profitable businesses gigantic windfalls, sticking the rest of us with the job of sorting out the smoking craters they leave behind, more and more investors are piling in. Today, the PE sector loves a rollup, which is when they buy several related businesses and merge them into one firm. The nominal business-case for a rollup is that the new, bigger firm is more “efficient.” In reality, a rollup’s strength is in eliminating competition. When all the pet groomers, or funeral homes, or urgent care clinics for ten miles share the same owner, they can raise prices, lower wages, and fuck over suppliers.

They can also borrow. A quirk of the credit markets is that a standalone small business is valued at about 3–5x its annual revenues. But if that business is part of a large firm, it is valued at 10–20x annual turnover. That means that when a private equity company rolls up a comedy club, ad agency or water bottler (all businesses presently experiencing PE rollup), with $1m in annual revenues, it shows up on the PE company’s balance sheet as an asset worth $10–20m. That’s $10–20m worth of collateral the PE fund can stake for loans that let it buy and roll up more small businesses.

2.9 million Boomer-owned businesses, employing 32m people, are expected to sell in the next couple years as their owners retire. Most of these businesses will sell to PE firms, who can afford to pay more for them as a prelude to a bust out than anyone intending to operate them as a productive business could ever pay:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

PE’s most ghastly impact is felt in the health care sector. Whole towns’ worth of emergency rooms, family practices, labs and other health firms have been scooped up by PE, which has spent more than $1t since 2012 on health acquisitions:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

Once a health care company is owned by PE, it is significantly more likely to commit medicare fraud. It also cuts wages and staffing for doctors and nurses. PE-owned facilities do more unnecessary and often dangerous procedures. Appointments get shorter. The companies get embroiled in kickback scandals. PE-backed dentists hack away at children’s mouths, filling them full of root-canals.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/17/the-doctor-will-fleece-you-now/#pe-in-full-effect

The Healthcare Private Equity Association boasts that its members are poised to spend more than $3t to create “the future of healthcare.”

https://hcpea.org/#!event-list

As bad as PE is for healthcare, it’s worse for long-term care. PE-owned nursing homes are charnel houses, and there’s a particularly nasty PE scam where elderly patients are tricked into signing up for palliative care, which is never delivered (and isn’t needed, because the patients aren’t dying!). These fake “hospices” get huge payouts from medicare — and the patient is made permanently ineligible for future medicare, because they are recorded being in their final decline:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/26/death-panels/#what-the-heck-is-going-on-with-CMS

Every part of the health care sector is being busted out by PE. Another ugly PE trick, the “club deal,” is devouring the medical supply business. Club deals were huge in the 2000s, destroying rent-controlled housing, energy companies, Mervyn’s department stores, Harrah’s, and Old Country Joe. Now it’s doing the same to medical supplies:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/14/billionaire-class-solidarity/#club-deals

Private equity is behind the mass rollup of single-family homes across America. Wall Street landlords are the worst landlords in America, who load up your rent with junk fees, leave your home in a state of dangerous disrepair, and evict you at the drop of a hat:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/16/die-miete-ist-zu-hoch/#assets-v-human-rights

As these houses decay through neglect, private equity makes a bundle from tenants and even more borrowing against the houses. In a few short years, much of America’s desperately undersupplied housing stock will be beyond repair. It’s a bust out.

You know all those exploding trains filled with dangerous chemicals that poison entire towns? Private equity bust outs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/04/up-your-nose/#rail-barons

Where did PE come from? How can these people look themselves in the mirror? Why do we let them get away with it? How do we stop them?

Today in The American Prospect, Maureen Tkacik reviews two new books that try to answer all four of these questions, but really only manage to answer the first three:

https://prospect.org/culture/books/2023-06-02-days-of-plunder-morgenson-rosner-ballou-review/

The first of these books is These Are the Plunderers: How Private Equity Runs — and Wrecks — America by Gretchen Morgenson and Joshua Rosner:

https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/These-Are-the-Plunderers/Gretchen-Morgenson/9781982191283

The second is Plunder: Private Equity’s Plan to Pillage America, by Brendan Ballou:

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/brendan-ballou/plunder/9781541702103/

Both books describe the bust out from the inside. For example, PetSmart — looted for $30 billion by RaymondSvider and his PE fund BC Partners — is a slaughterhouse for animals. The company systematically neglects animals — failing to pay workers to come in and feed them, say, or refusing to provide backup power to run during power outages, letting animals freeze or roast to death. Though PetSmart has its own vet clinics, the company doesn’t want to pay its vets to nurse the animals it damages, so it denies them care. But the company is also too cheap to euthanize those animals, so it lets them starve to death. PetSmart is also too cheap to cremate the animals, so its traumatized staff are ordered to smuggle the dead, rotting animals into random dumpsters.

All this happened while PetSmart’s sales increased by 60%, matched by growth in the company’s gross margins. All that money went to the bust out.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/antoinegara/2021/09/27/the-30-billion-kitty-meet-the-investor-who-made-a-fortune-on-pet-food/

Tkacik says these books show that we’re finally getting wise to PE. Back in the Clinton years, the PE critique painted the perps as sharp operators who reduced quality and jacked up prices. Today, books like these paint these “investors” as the monsters they are — crooks whose bust ups are crimes, not clever finance hacks.

Take the Carlyle Group, which pioneered nursing home rollups. As Carlyle slashed wages, its workers suffered — but its elderly patients suffered more. Thousands of Carlyle “customers” died of “dehydration, gangrenous bedsores, and preventable falls” in the pre-covid years.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/economy/opioid-overdoses-bedsores-and-broken-bones-what-happened-when-a-private-equity-firm-sought-profits-in-caring-for-societys-most-vulnerable/2018/11/25/09089a4a-ed14-11e8-baac-2a674e91502b_story.html

KKR, another PE monster, bought a second-hand chain of homes for mentally disabled adults from another PE company, then squeezed it for the last drops of blood left in the corpse. KKR cut wages to $8/hour and increased shifts to 36 hours, then threatened to have workers who went home early arrested and charged with “patient abandonment.” Many of these homes were often left with no staff at all, with patients left to starve and stew in their own waste.

PE loves to pick on people who can’t fight back: kids, sick people, disabled people, old people. No surprise, then, that PE loves prisons — the ultimate captive audience. HIG Capital is a $55b fund that owns TKC Holdings, who got the contract to feed the prisoners at 400 institutions. They got the contract after the prisons fired Aramark, owned by PE giant Warburg Pincus, whose food was so inedible that it provoked riots. TKC got a million bucks extra to take over the food at Michigan’s Kinross Correctional Facility, then, incredibly, made the food worse. A chef who refused to serve 100 bags of rotten potatoes (“the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in my life”) was fired:

https://www.wzzm13.com/article/news/local/michigan/prison-food-worker-i-was-fired-for-refusing-to-serve-rotten-potatoes/69-467297770

TKC doesn’t just operate prison kitchens — it operates prison commissaries, where it gouges prisoners on junk food to replace the inedible slop it serves in the cafeteria. The prisoners buy this food with money they make working in the prison workshops, for $0.10–0.25/hour. Those workshops are also run by TKC.

Tkacic traces private equity back to the “corporate raiders” of the 1950s and 1960s, who “stealthily borrowed money to buy up enough shares in a small or midsized company to control its biggest bloc of votes, then force a stock swap and install himself as CEO.”

The most famous of these raiders was Eli Black, who took over United Fruit with this gambit — a company that had a long association with the CIA, who had obligingly toppled democratically elected governments and installed dictators friendly to United’s interests (this is where the term “banana republic” comes from).

Eli Black’s son is Leon Black, a notorious PE predator. Leon Black got his start working for the junk-bonds kingpin Michael Milken, optimizing Milken’s operation, which was the most terrifying bust out machine of its day, buying, debt-loading and wrecking a string of beloved American businesses. Milken bought 2,000 companies and put 200 of them through bankruptcy, leaving the survivors in a brittle, weakened state.

It got so bad that the Business Roundtable complained about the practice to Congress, calling Milken, Black, et al, “a small group is systematically extracting the equity from corporations and replacing it with debt, and incidentally accumulating major wealth.”

Black stabbed Milken in the back and tanked his business, then set out on his own. Among the businesses he destroyed was Samsonite, “a bankrupt-but-healthy company he subjected to 12 humiliating years of repeated fee extractions, debt-funded dividend payments, brutal plant closings, and hideous schemes to induce employees to buy its worthless stock.”

The money to buy Samsonite — and many other businesses — came through a shadowy deal between Black and John Garamendi, then a California insurance commissioner, now a California congressman. Garamendi helped Black buy a $6b portfolio of junk bonds from an insurance company in a wildly shady deal. Garamendi wrote down the bonds by $3.9b, stealing money “from innocent people who needed the money to pay for loved ones’ funerals, irreparable injuries, etc.”

Black ended up getting all kinds of favors from powerful politicians — including former Connecticut governor John Rowland and Donald Trump. He also wired $188m to Jeffrey Epstein for reasons that remain opaque.

Black’s shady deals are a marked contrast with the exalted political circles he travels in. Despite private equity’s obviously shady conduct, it is the preferred partner for cities and states, who buy everything from ambulance services to infrastructure from PE-owned companies, with disastrous results. Federal agencies turn a blind eye to their ripoffs, or even abet them. 38 state houses passed legislation immunizing nursing homes from liability during the start of the covid crisis.

PE barons are shameless about presenting themselves as upstanding cits, unfairly maligned. When Obama made an empty promise to tax billionaires in 2010, Blackstone founder SteveS chwarzman declared, “It’s a war. It’s like when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.”

Since we’re on the subject of Hitler, this is a good spot to bring up Monowitz, a private-sector satellite of Auschwitz operated by IG Farben as a slave labor camp to make rubber and other materiel it supplied at a substantial markup to the wermacht. I’d never heard of Monowitz, but Tkacik’s description of the camp is chilling, even in comparison to Auschwitz itself.

Farben used slave laborers from Auschwitz to work at its rubber plant, but was frustrated by the logistics of moving those slaves down the 4.5m stretch of road to the facility. So the company bought 25,000 slaves — preferring children, who were cheaper — and installed them in a co-located death-camp called Monowitz:

https://www.commentary.org/articles/r-tannenbaum/the-devils-chemists-by-josiah-e-dubois-jr/

Monowitz was — incredibly — worse than Auschwitz. It was so bad, the SS guards who worked at it complained to Berlin about the conditions. The SS demanded more hospitals for the workers who dropped from beatings and overwork — Farben refused, citing the cost. The factory never produced a steady supply of rubber, but thanks to its gouging and the brutal treatment of its slaves, the camp was still profitable and returned large dividends to Farben’s investors.

Apologists for slavery sometimes claim that slavers are at least incentivized to maintain the health of their captive workforce. This was definitely not true of Farben. Monowitz slaves died on average after three months in the camp. And Farben’s subsidiary, Degesch, made the special Zyklon B formulation used in Auschwitz’s gas chambers.

Tkacik’s point is that the Nazis killed for ideology and were unimaginably cruel. Farben killed for money — and they were even worse. The banality of evil gets even more banal when it’s done in service to maximizing shareholder value.

As Farben historian Joseph Borkin wrote, the company “reduced slave labor to a consumable raw material, a human ore from which the mineral of life was systematically extracted”:

https://www.scribd.com/document/517797736/The-Crime-and-Punishment-of-I-G-Farben

Farben’s connection to the Nazis was a the subject of Germany’s Master Plan: The Story of Industrial Offensive, a 1943 bestseller by Borkin, who was also an antitrust lawyer. It described how Farben had manipulated global commodities markets in order to create shortages that “guaranteed Hitler’s early victories.”

Master Plan became a rallying point in the movement to shatter corporate power. But large US firms like Dow Chemical and Standard Oil waged war on the book, demanding that it be retracted. Borkin was forced into resignation and obscurity in 1945.

Meanwhile, in Nuremberg, 24 Farben executives were tried for their war crimes, and they cited their obligations to their shareholders in their defense. All but five were acquitted on this basis.

Seen in that light, the plunderers of today’s PE firms are part of a long and dishonorable tradition, one that puts profit ahead of every other priority or consideration. It’s a defense that wowed the judges at Nuremberg, so should we be surprised that it still plays in 2023?

Tkacik is frustrated that neither of these books have much to offer by way of solutions, but she understands why that would be. After all, if we can’t even close the carried interest tax loophole, how can we hope to do anything meaningful?

“Carried interest” comes up in every election cycle. Most of us assume it has something to do with “interest payments,” but that’s not true. The carried interest loophole relates to the “interest” that 16th-century sea captains had in their cargo. It’s a 600-year-old tax loophole that private equity bosses use to pay little or no tax on their billions. The fact that it’s still on the books tells you everything you need to know about whether our political class wants to do anything about PE’s plundering.

Notwithstanding Tkacik’s (entirely justified) skepticism of the weaksauce remedies proposed in these books, there is some hope of meaningful action. Private equity’s rollups are only possible because they skate under the $101m threshold for merger scrutiny. However, there is good — but unenforced — law that allows antitrust enforcers to block these mergers. This is the “incipiency standard” — Sec 7 of the Clayton Act — the idea that a relatively small merger might not be big enough to trigger enforcement action on its own, but regulators can still act to block it if it creates an incipient monopoly.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/16/schumpeterian-terrorism/#deliberately-broken

The US has a new crop of aggressive — fearless — top antitrust enforcers and they’ve been systematically reviving these old laws to go after monopolies.

That’s long overdue. Markets are machines for eroding our moral values: “In comparison to non-market decisions, moral standards are significantly lower if people participate in markets.”

https://web.archive.org/web/20130607154129/https://www.uni-bonn.de/Press-releases/markets-erode-moral-values

The crimes that monsters commit in the name of ideology pale in comparison to the crimes the wealthy commit for money.

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Edinburgh, London, and Berlin!

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/02/plunderers/#farbenizers

[Image ID: An overgrown graveyard, rendered in silver nitrate monochrome. A green-tinted businessman  with a moneybag in place of a head looms up from behind a gravestone. The right side of the image is spattered in blood.]

[zvdvdlvr]

being on team 141 and being one of the youngest people in the team HCs [p.02]

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢. ✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞!!

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒔, 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 141, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈,

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑺: 𝒖𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹'𝑺 𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺𝑰𝑮𝑵: 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓

back at it again, its another fatherless rapscallion😭

100% believe you and soap call people bestie if you dont like them

ex: "soap come hither, i have tea on bestie chloe" and he comes barreling down the hall to hear the tea

lmfao speaking of soap

SOAP=WHINY MAN BABY

this man whines when you give him the silent treatment fo sheezy 💯

ghost thinks its really funny when soap watches you with a '☹' face evrry time you ignore him

gaz always knows everything because you know everything so you tell him its hilarious asf

anyways

you and gaz always be talkin about topher fr

(i dont have the of so an edit will do:)

HELLA INSIDE JOKES

price is highkey tired of your humor

"is there anything you need?" price "other than a father/mother? nope. thanks, tho" you *insert gaz laughing from the other room*, distressed price leaved the room, clutching at his sussy goofy wacky little hat

if you are fluent in spanish i strongly believe ghost will be scared of you

as i have been trading my spanish for german, i wont put anything else involving spanish, thanks 😍🙏

screaming judas in tge shower

ghost yelling at you to shut up

soap joining to annoy his babygorl

gaz humming along because lady gaga is goddess

price needing to leave the room

l m f a o

ok so like what if you're really good at card games, savvy?

you and 141 are laying low in a safehouse somewhere

soap finds a deck of cards, and everyone plays and/or watches

anyway you suggest playing manipulation

price immediately agrees, he hasnt played in a while but still thinks he could beat everyonr

ghost joins in, but gaz watches

what if you sat in his lap

no sorry my bad im in love

anyway

the first, like, three rounds everyones drawing like five cards

and price somehow ends up with two cards while everyones drawing cards

hes getting cocky, thinking that he'll go out first because of his amount of cards

HOWEVER

he had an ace

so that was virtually impossible to get rid of lmfao

anyhow,

price had on his poker face, and surprisingly, so did you

no one could tell you were able to get rid of the five cards in your hand only in the eighth round

bada bing bada boom you served the team their ass when you quickly arranged your cards into their appropriate piles

and then you look at everyone's flabberghasted expression

price is 😯🙁ing so hard

not only did price lose, he lost to one of the youngest people on the team

ghost is a sore loser tbh

"fuckin' hell, reaper. the hell you learn to play like that?" ghost "around" you shrug

price thinks about that all the time tbh

LETS TALK ABOUT THE TIME 141 FIRST SAW YOU SMOKING

after a somewhat rough mission, you go MIA

everyones worried; you generally let someone know whenever you go somewhere

but its hour 4 of you being gone and price is worried

you did this when the whole situation with alex went down, so price has limited experience with your MIA bouts

highkey feels bad he can't protect you emotionally :(

it was well below sun down when price found you

poor captain almost had a stroke when you saw you

you were outside sitting cross legged facing the direction which the sun had set, indicating you'd been there for a while

you had a lighter in your hand, lighting up cigarette number unknown

"what are you doing, kid?"

you had heard him coming so you didnt jump or anything you just shrugged

"do you want to talk about it?"

a mocking laugh fell from your lips, spewing out with smoke "nah."

price was at a loss. you had never acted like this before- cold and sharp

he moved to sit by you though </3

soon ghost trailed out, wondering where price was

an inky black mass caught his eye

but as he was making his way over, he saw a cigarette get smushed into the ground and a knew one being pulled from a pack

price didn't smoke cigarettes, he smoked cigars, so who would that be?

but then ghost heard your voice and an exhale and you had the cigarette

ghost: 😯

"hell's goin' on out here?" ghost grumbled, sitting on the other side of u, eyes widening at the amount of boxes at ur side

price answered when you didnt "getting some air"

ghost blinked at the cigarette hanging from your lips. okay

the guys tried to get you to talk but couldn't get anything out of you but a scoff or two

even when ghost offered to let you sleep in his room you said no :(((

after that you gathered your shit and left for the base leaving ghost and price concerned </3

whoa who broke my heart i sure am angsty today 😟💯

you didnt get any sleep that night btw

on another note

MOVIE NIGHTS WITH THE GUYS BUT GAZ INSISTS INSTEAD OF YOU

obviously he goes to you first

"hey y/n" :))) "do you wanna" :)))))) "watch a movie" :))))))))) "with us?" :))))))))))))

i'll be damned if you say no. 😐🔪

so you said yes 😍❤

he smiled so big </33

went to soap next

then pulled up the movie

with everyone ( minus ghost ), price couldn't say no 🙃

ghost pulled up, ffs 🤯

gaz chose either a horror movie or a horror movie

so you watched a horror movie 😁

gaz was probably clinging to you the whole time

so was soap probably

ghost was somewhat interested, but price fell asleep

his goofy snore is so loud bro im not even playing 🤧😭😭

if you have migraines you best believe everyone has midol/typenol for you

never ibuprofen tho bc after a mission if you had a headache, 141 might think you possibly had/have a brain bleed and wouldn't give you ibuprofen bc thats a blood thinner and could start another bleed

you and gaz have playlists for everyone

you both follow each other on EVERYTHING

if you were too poor (like me HDJSNEHDJEUZ) gaz would let you and only you on his netflix acc ❤

im sorry im a gazlvr

will probably edit later tbh

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞!!

@shadylilac

🤍

[lustfulslxt]

In Love - Chris Sturniolo

summary : you're fwb with chris, until you both confess your love

warnings : smutty smut smut

a/n : last ao3 i have finisheddd, might as well feed y'all xx

—

it was around 10 o'clock at night and the four friends were gathered in the living room, having a movie marathon. nick and matt were on one couch, under separate blankets with a bowl of popcorn in between them. chris and savanna were on the opposite couch, sharing the same blanket with different snacks to the left of them. they were watching House at the End of the Street.

"this is intense." nick says, pulling his blanket closer to him.

"don't be a baby, nicolas." chris teases him.

"oh kill me! my bad for being affected by suspenseful movies."

the other three laugh at the boys dramatics, resuming their focus onto the tv screen. chris had his hand resting on savanna's thigh and her head laid against his shoulder. it was normal behavior for them, they've always been close friends.

"you smell good." she whispers into his ear.

"do i?" he smirks at her, interlocking his free hand with hers.

"i know, right? way to boost your ego." she quietly chuckles.

he laughs with her and gives her a small peck on her forehead, pulling her closely into him. "thanks, sav."

she just hums and they both go back to watching the movie. it didn't take long for chris to lay down and pull her on top of him. they were still under the blanket, but it was very clear that she was on top.

"what are you weirdos doing?" matt asks with a chuckle.

"cuddling. why? jealous you can't cuddle with me?" chris retorts.

"oh yeah, definitely." matt sarcastically replies while they all laugh.

"aww matty pooh, if you wanna trade me spots, just say that." savanna grins.

he just shakes his head, a small smile very visible, while he pulled nick into his arms. "nope. i got my favorite with me."

chris feigns hurt, before diverting his attention back to the movie, which only lasted a mere few minutes before it was back on savanna. his arms were over and around her, his hands resting on her lower back. her arms were around his waist, and the side of her face on his chest as she watched the tv. suddenly, his hands trailed lower and lower, gripping on her ass. she peeked up at him and noticed a sneaky little smirk on his lips as he pretended to watch the movie.

"you think you're so slick, christopher." she mumbled to him.

"hmm?" he hummed with mock confusion.

"two can play at that game."

after that sentence slipped from her mouth, she slid one of her hands underneath her and took hold of his dick through his sweatpants. he immediately tensed and a smirk came to her lips as well. he slowly relaxed, in attempt to play it off, before giving her a shrug as if to say it didn't affect him.

he began massaging her under the blanket, squeezing and spreading her cheeks. she could feel him stiffening in her hand, and she knew that even if they tried to resist one another, it would still end up with them in bed together.

"you seem to like when i touch you." savanna whispers to chris.

"funny, i could say the same thing for you." he teased her.

"oh really? prove it."

he then stuck his hands in the back of her pants, trailing his hands back between her legs. she was shocked to say the least, not knowing he'd even do anything with his brothers in the same room. but then again, she kind of wasn't surprised because it is chris after all. he swiped his hand through her crack, her arousal soaking his fingers.

he pulled his hand out and put his two fingers in his mouth, sucking her juices off. "seem to be enjoying it to me."

her jaw was dropped and she felt incredibly turned on. first, it's chris and he just sucked her off of him so casually. second, he's doing this in front of his brothers and the risk of being caught made her hot and bothered.

"i like actually want you to fuck me right here and now." she admits, nonchalantly.

he lets out a loud laugh, "i'm not too sure my brothers would appreciate that."

"appreciate what?" nick questions the pair.

"nothing." savanna says quickly, nudging chris who just started laughing.

"actually, i think matty would like it." chris whispers to her, causing her jaw to drop wide open.

"what are you guys talking about over there?" matt asks, noticing the girl's face.

"just about which one of you two would-" chris was cut off with savanna's hand slapping over his mouth.

"don't you dare." she warns, her eyes wide and face flushing.

"i'm like very intrigued now." nick says, sitting up and turning his attention to them.

"i will get up and leave you with a crazy hard on if you say a single thing about this to them." she quietly tells chris, giving him a stern look.

for some reason, nick and matt, think savanna's an innocent angel, and if they knew what her and chris do, that image would be completely obliterated. she didn't want that. she liked keeping their dirty secrets, a secret.

chris quickly shut it down, "nothing. just wondering which one of you would win in bowling."

nick and matt shared a knowing look, before turning their attention back to the other two. they knew that was definitely not the topic of the conversation, but shrugged and let it go, returning their attention forward.

"that was close." chris smirks, "but you can't even lie. the thought of them finding out has got you dripping."

savanna glares at him, pushing up as she stood up, "i'm going upstairs."

while she walked away, the two older triplets looked at chris with confusion while chris tried to hide his smile.

"what's her deal?" nick asks.

"she's just crabby cause she's tired. i'm gonna go see if she needs anything." chris lies, following after her.

upon walking downstairs to his room, chris heard the shower in his bathroom running. he locked his bedroom door and made his way to the connected bathroom. once he entered, he saw savanna undressing. she hadn't noticed his presence yet, so he just took the time to admire her.

"you're really beautiful, you know that?" he speaks aloud, causing her to jump in fright.

"thank you." she says, removing the rest of her clothes until she was bare.

"can i join you?"

she shrugs, "sure, why not?"

she steps under the hot water while chris quickly undresses himself. she had her eyes closed while the water poured over her, only opening them when she heard the shower door click shut. chris stood in front of her, completely naked, his dick throbbing at the sight of her.

she was truly remarkable to him. he loved everything about her, from the way she carried herself to the kindness in her heart. she was irreplaceable, he never wanted to live without her. she's been amazing to him. she's been a great friend, always there for him whenever he needs anything. he loves spending time with her, laughing with her, going on adventures, making memories. she made him feel like he's never felt before.

"can i tell you something?" he quietly asks her.

she furrows her eyebrows, giving him a look of confusion, but nods nonetheless.

he takes a step forward, his hands meeting her waist. he could feel the heat coming off of her and it only pulled him in closer. he cupped her face with one hand while the other went to her lower back, bringing her body into his. he stared into her eyes for a moment, before kissing her deeply and passionately. the two moved in perfect sync, savanna's hands running up his torso and around his neck, into his hair. the hot water poured down on the two, drenching every part of them.

after a minute, chris pulled away, breathless. he placed his forehead on hers with his eyes closed. she had her eyes closed for a moment, before opening them and staring up at him.

she lifted his head, her hand on his chin, "what's up?"

"i'm scared to say it." he admits, biting his cheek.

she frowned and pulled him in for a hug. her arms wrapped around his torso, hands hooking around his neck. she laid her head in the crook of his neck, placing little kisses there.

"i promise you never have to be scared to tell me anything. you're safe with me." she whispered to him.

"i'm in love with you." he abruptly states, causing her to freeze.

she pulls away from him, her hands still holding onto his arms. "you're what?"

he sighed, running a hand down his face. "i'm in love with you. i have been for a while now, but i've always been scared to tell you. i didn't want to make things weird between us and i know you're probably thinking it's gonna be weird now, but i just had to tell you. keeping it inside just felt like a heavy weight on my chest and i couldn't hold it any longer."

when she didn't respond he kept going, "i'm in love with the way you smile and the way you laugh. how when you make that face, your nose crinkles. the way you play with my hair and hold my hand, simply for comfort. the way you, respectfully, don't care about anyone's opinions. the way you're so caring to others. the way you talk, the way you walk. i'm in love with your confidence and your humor. i'm in love with the way you're so supportive and motivating. i'm in love with the way you love."

with every word he spoke, savanna felt like crying. her breath was slowly being stripped from her lungs, in the best way possible. she was in the clouds. without saying a thing, she yanks him into her, her mouth smashing into his. she kissed him with every thing she had in her, like it was the last thing she was able to do.

it got heated fast. no words were spoken, but it was like so much was said. one of chris' hands was on her jaw, holding her in place while his mouth dominated hers. his other hand was sliding down her back, before gripping her ass. savanna had her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands tangled in his hair. she had to stand on her tippy toes to be a good height.

"i wanna fuck you so bad." he whispers to her, his voice deep and raspy.

she pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth, attempting to hide her smile. "what are you waiting for?"

a smirk made it's way on chris' face and he brought his mouth to hers, latching on once again. their tongues glided all over each other, slipping in and out of one another's mouths. chris' hands run up and down her body while her hands tugged his hair.

chris then trails his mouth down her jaw and onto her neck, leaving wet open mouth kisses. savanna was whimpering above him, making his dick twitch. he knew exactly where her sweet spot was, it only taking seconds to find. his tongue flicked over the sensitive skin and he latched his mouth over it, sucked ever so slightly, causing a moan to ripple from her.

"i could cum just from the sound of you." chris tells her, going back in for a kiss.

as his hand grabs her boob and squeezes, she let out another moan. chris moaned back, eager to fuck her. he grabbed his dick and teased her clit with the tip, causing her legs to shake a little bit. without warning, chris picks her up, and smoothly slides inside her.

"ohhh." savanna moaned, sucking in a sharp breath as she hooked her legs around his waist.

chris had his hands gripping her thighs as he started thrusting into her. he leaned into the crook of her neck, putting attention on her sweet spot again. she had her hands on his shoulders and down his back, to better help support herself.

"you feel so good." chris groans, moving to put his mouth back on hers.

their tongues battled for dominance once again, chris winning and exploring her mouth. through his kisses, she was a moaning mess from him pounding into her which only encouraged him to keep going.

he picked up the pace and brought one of his hands in between them, rubbing her clit with his thumb.

"oh my god!" savanna almost yelled, before whispering to him. "i'm already about to cum."

chris immediately pulls out and sets her down, despite her wishes. he set her on the small bench and spread her legs, getting to his knees and putting his mouth on her. his tongue laps her folds a few times before sucking on her clit. he plunges a few fingers in her, pumping in and out at a fast pace.

"i want you to cum in my mouth." he tells her, "then i'll fuck you again."

savanna's hands thread through his hair, tugging here and there. her legs were shaking and multiple moans were escaping her lips as chris devoured her. he was eating her just right, already knowing what she does and doesn't like.

they were perfect for each other, sexually and emotionally. they belonged together, and it didn't take sex for both of them to realize. it just made it that much better.

"mm, i'm so close." savanna whines.

"that's it baby, let it go." chris nods, his mouth right back on her.

with his fingers fucking her, his tongue viciously exploring the rest of her, and his extremely sexy words of encouragement, she couldn't help but release. chris continued fingering her for a moment, bringing her to a full climax. as soon as he pulled his hand away, he replaced it with his mouth. he was sucking up all of her arousal while he began jerking himself.

"that was so good." savanna whimpered.

"i know what you like, babygirl." chris teases, before standing, "come on, stand up."

her legs were still slightly shaking and they felt so weak, so she shakes her head, "i can't."

"stand up or i'm not fucking you."

she whines, pulling herself up, her legs wobbly as she glared at him. he gives her a teasing smile before placing a couple of soft kisses on her lips. he then turns her around and places her hands on the railing above the bench.

"hold this." he instructs, his hands trailing down her body.

he gripped her ass, squeezing it ever so slightly. he then grabbed his dick and slapped it against her cheeks a couple of times. he put it between her crack, sliding up and down, coating it in her juices.

as he positioned himself at her entrance once again, he asked, "you ready?" when she only nodded her head, he pulled away, leaving her whimpering. "use your words, baby."

"yes, please! i'm ready! i want you to fuck me, i need you so bad." she was damn near crying at this point.

as soon as she was done talking, chris slammed into her. her mind was foggy, loud moans and yelps falling from her lips as he started fucking her fast and hard. the sound of skin slapping and both of their moans sounded throughout the downstairs, surely traveling upstairs at some point.

chris had one hand on her waist, guiding her as she pushed back, and the other hand wrapped around a fistful of hair. he pulled her back with it, him leaning forward and attacking her neck with his mouth.

"oh my." she cries out, his face scrunched in absolute pleasure. "d-daddy you're fucking me so good."

she doesn't call him that often, but from how he groans, smacks her ass, and starts railing her, she can tell he likes it and makes a mental note to call him that more frequently.

"yeah, you like this?" he groans out.

"mhm. i love it so much!" she admits, pushing back into him.

his hand reaches under her and he starts rubbing her clit again, causing her to jerk and her mouth to fell open at the overstimulation. her clit was hella sensitive and she was already cumming.

"oh fuck." chris moaned above her, his dick twitching as he then came too.

he continued fucking her, pushing his nut in and out of her, until he couldn't go any longer. he pulled out and leaned against the shower door while she sat against the bench. both of them looked fucked out, faces flushed, breathing heavily, and exhaustion plastered over their faces.

"i'm in love with you too." she pants out. noticing the multiple looks on his face, she continues, "and before you say it's because you fucked me so good, which you did, it's not because of that."

he shuts his mouth, already knowing that's exactly what he was about to say. she grins at him and keeps talking, "i'm in love with how goofy you are. how deeply connected you are with your brothers, how you're a mamas boy. i'm in love with the way you hold yourself, how you're unapologetically you. i love your crazy laugh, i love the way you squeeze your eyes shut when you're super happy. i'm in love with the way that you don't even have to try, yet you still are incredibly amazing. if it was entirely up to me, i'd spend the rest of my life by your side."

chris now stood in front of her, holding her hand as she looked up at him. he pulled her to stand and kissed her so deeply. he was passionate about the way he felt for her, and knowing it was reciprocated, made him feel on top of the world.

"let's get cleaned up and go to sleep."

let's just say, nick and matt don't think she's so innocent now.

--

a/n : i figured why not just post it now? i know you bitches are thirsty, cause same! please please send in more requests, love you!

[eddiessluttywaist]

as if (part 3)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: reader isn’t keen to playing the usual games between her and eddie after how she felt sunday night, and eddie can’t stand losing her attention. PICK WHAT ENDING YOU WANT AFTER.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 8,704 words (9,272 total words with the fluffy ending, 9,516 total words with the angsty ending)

content/warnings: swearing, SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, breeding kink, mocking, teasing, biting, dacryphilia, groping, pet names (doll face, princess), degradation, some embarrassment, yearning, menophilia, angst :(((, feelings :(((, fluff(what? who said that?). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: thank you for all the love :( i’m truly so surprised and grateful and just super flattered so thank you!! i hope i didn’t fuck this up by giving it crap endings sobs. i saw some were interested in a bit of a better look into eddie’s thoughts/feelings so i hope those lil parts are good! i’m considering the occasional blurb in the future about them tho so 👀 OH ALSO!! the past week or so tumblr had a bug on their app that cut off the ends of my posts >:( so I’d appreciate it if you could look back to double check you caught the full ending so you get the proper experience! okay i’m shutting up now!

part one - part two

*

You weren’t as responsive to his teasing that Monday…or, well… just about the rest of the school week so far, for that matter. You blamed your mood drop on his indifference, and the cramping that you assumed was only from this weekend. You had been sure it was just your cervix making its opinions on Eddie known, but then—after your second sugar pill of the week—you got your period Wednesday night. This culprit seemingly just as likely for that aching in your lower abdomen and back. It was welcome evidence that your birth control was working, but the appreciation for its presence didn’t last long with all the cramping and the bleeding. You hated getting your period, no matter how many older women reminded you of your “connection to Mother Nature” and “the beauty of the womb.” It’s messy and painful and almost always broke out your face.

So no you aren’t playing Eddie’s usual games—instead going silent on him or answering in an empty murmur. Part of you worries it’s going to all build up to one particularly heinous act, but he surprisingly didn’t get worse. He only bothered you with the same old stuff more frequently. By Thursday he’s pestering you constantly with his teasing, and his grabbing, and honestly? Just about every trick in his sick little book which were usually tastefully sprinkled throughout the week.

“So you’re not talking to me? Playing hard to get or somethin’?” He whispers from behind you in the lunch line. You grab a saran-wrapped cookie and put it on your tray.

“What? You on your rag or something?” Eddie scoffs in response to your ever freezing cold shoulder. He’s out in the tundra these past couple of days. You make a face and continue moving through the line.

“Come on… don’t fuck me and forget me, babe. You’ll break this ol’ cynic’s heart and I’ll never recover.” He teases with a wide smile, hand placed over his heart before it drops to settle on the small of your back and gradually travel down to cup your ass. He’s pleasantly surprised that you’re not gently nudging him away like you had the last time he attempted his usual lunchtime groping, but something feels different. He glances down as he flips up your skirt only to reveal small shorts in the same pattern of your dark, plaid skirt. Your worst nightmare is bleeding through a light-colored pair of pants or skirt, so you always wear darker clothes on your period, and you trade skirts for skorts in favor of the added coverage.

“What the fuck is this shit?” He scowls, tugging at one leg of the shorts.

“It’s called a skort. We’ve had this conversation before.” You sigh, thanking the lunch lady as she hands you your tray and eyes the metalhead trailing behind you.

She thinks he resembles an abandoned puppy who grew mean and practiced his bite and his bark just to follow after you with his tail between his legs. If she had any genuine interest in connecting with the student body she fed 5 days out of the week, she might’ve made a playful joke about you having him whipped. But she didn’t care that much.

“I don’t think we have.” He grins, wondering if you even noticed you let yourself talk to him.

“You do it every time I’m on-“ You catch yourself almost admitting you were on your period, which would certainly only pull new harassment from him, so you pretend to correct a simple mistake. “In. Every time I’m in a skort.”

He hums disapprovingly.

“Yeah, well… I…” He trails off as you simply walk away from him to your usual spot in the cafeteria. You don’t bother to stay at his table you two reached just for him to finish making some crude joke before ultimately shooing you away anyway. “Okay… or be a bitch.”

He grumbles that last bit, landing into his usual spot at the head of the table. A few of the other Hellfire members are still staring even when he clearly takes notice.

“Can I help you?” He snaps, everyone who had been staring immediately looking down at their food. He huffs, adjusting his position in the chair to get more comfortable and lets his gaze move over to your table. You’re sat so pretty it’s like your image could actually advertise such a crappy plastic chair. The way your ankles are crossed underneath you, book cracked open on the table with all of your attention on it as you sat with your body leaned into the table. Your food was hardly touched due to a pang of nausea that he was completely unaware of.

“You know if you like her maybe you shouldn’t pick on her so much.”

Eddie grimaces at the comment that’s—in his opinion—beyond a disregard for his rank at this table, icy glare on the curly haired freshman. There are panicked faces and soft muttering around the table showing he isn’t the only one taken aback by this.

“I…” the boy falters, putting the spoonful of pudding he’s about to eat back down. “I just mean if… if you like her. I dunno… you’re kinda mean to her, Eddie.”

He eats his scoop of pudding now, his bold words inspiring the wiry one that always sits next to him. Eddie’s burning glance flits over to him now that he’s speaking, his expression remaining unimpressed with etches of frustration in the shadows of his facial features.

“Yeah, which is actually totally weird cause you’re not like that at all.” The brunet speaks in a rapid ramble like usual. “Like, you took me and Dustin and Lucas under your wing cause we were new and weird and alone and stuff like that—no, I know Lucas has been ditching Hellfire for the jocks, but anyway— you’re always talking back to those asshole jocks—which is totally cool—so I don’t get why you’re not like that with her.”

“I’m sorry, I must be confused.” The man spoke with sarcastic interest, a sinister smile breaking out onto his face. “Are you two talking to me? About something that is, quite frankly, none of your business?”

The two boys look at each other, the nerves shared between them tangible. Eddie raises a brow and tilts his head when they face him again. Still silence. Mike swallows anxiously.

“Well?” He sneers, flicking some of his trail mix at them.

“Sorry, Eddie…” They say in unison as he chews slowly, staring them down. He rolls his eyes as his body slowly relaxes again in his spot and he glances at you again. You were at least breaking off pieces of your cookie now, still reading your book.

“She’s not new or weird or alone anyways. She’s always with the smart kids.” He states, before holding up a hand as his gaze returns to the pair. “Not that I’m inviting you two shitheads to stick your noses in my business.”

The freshmen, along with a few others at the table shift to look over at you. You’re still engrossed in whatever you’re reading and you looked miserable, even if you were enjoying a good book. You look tired.

“Dude, literally no one is interacting with her. There’re the Jacobson twins talking at one end—probably still fighting over what’s the right answer to the equation from algebra class (it’s zero, by the way). Then there’s Richie and Greg from advanced calculus. Some people I don’t know…” Dustin mutters that last part before continuing, “And yes technically speaking there are a few girls sitting with her, but they’re not even talking. They probably don’t even know her.“

Eddie stares him down, the conversation still on you burning away at something inside him. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about you or how lonely you look. He doesn’t want to talk about inviting you over. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about how mean he is to you, cause he has no interest in trying to break down the intricacies of the crossover between bullying you and fucking you. Especially to freshmen.

“Just saying.” Dustin finally sighs in defeat, clearly getting no response from the DM sat at the head of the table. “But seriously, tugging on a girl’s pigtails cause you like her is completely grade school.”

*

Eddie had figured that having sex would change things between you two, but he imagined it changing for the better. Things like fucking you in the janitor’s closet or in the back of his van in the parking lot. Feeling you up between classes. Being so fucking mean to you all day until you were all wet and needy for him by the time that final bell rang.

He certainly didn’t imagine this.

At the start of the school week, Eddie didn’t entirely notice your lack of participation. Just that something felt… off-kilter in your interactions. It had been on Tuesday night that he realized nothing felt right because you weren’t glaring at him or shoving him away or pouting up at him. You didn’t even turn your head when an object was flicked at you, you just kept your eyes on the chalkboard.

Now he isn’t particularly well known for his critical thinking with… well… anything other than music, DND, and—subsequently—the math that came along with both hobbies. And, of course, selling drugs. So it’s somewhat understandable that poor Eds didn’t even realize what caused the imbalance for a whole day or two. Once he realized it though, it only frustrated him further. It irritated him that you weren’t playing the game, and it irritated him that it bothered him so much in the first place.

Why aren’t you snapping back at him? Why are you ignoring him, and if you even do look over: why was it always with a sad glance? Why, when he toyed with your skirt on Monday did you tilt your head to the side and quietly ask him to please leave you alone? When he saw you first thing Monday morning with circles under your eyes that were barely disguised by drug store concealer; Why, when he leaned into you as he passed you in the hall with a quiet “Something keep you up last night?” Did you only give him a passing glance with lips pressed together in what might’ve been an attempt at a small smile just to fall flat with that dull look in your eyes.

Being how he is, his game plan had been to keep bugging you constantly. Wear you down until you were finally glaring or giggling or whining, and everything could be back to the way it was. Maybe you were just suddenly playing hard to get. Being a teasing brat who would eventually have a smirk sneak out so he knew you were toying with him, and he could make you pay for it later. That smirk never quirked up your lip though. You were still such a rainy cloud drifting through the school.

The little twerp got to him at lunch today, too. He wonders now if maybe you were sick of the way he acted, and realized you want deserve someone a little less inclined to pigtail-tugging and a little more open and romantic. But why now? He thought you enjoyed it all. That’s why he wasn’t expelled already. That’s why you fucked him and called him for more. Right? Sitting in his van instead of attending the last class of the day, Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a frustrated groan. He feels something crucial missing in him at the fact that he’d rather pull teeth than drop down his smug and playful demeanor even for a second and show you that he’s yours.

He noticed you were pretty when you were a sophomore, but not much else. Now in your senior year with him, god—you aren’t even pretty. You’re fucking devastating, and he knows his methods of showing affection aren’t something that will stand the test of time. You’ll grow tired and fuck it, he’d be living up to that Munson name if he has to see you with someone else—probably wind up serving time right alongside Pops after leaving some guy in the hospital. So maybe there were tweaks to be had. Even if he’s bitter and reluctant about it. (And did I mention bitter?)

Eddie pulls his hands away from his face at the faint sound of a bell, letting the side of his head fall against the window with a solid thunk as he awaits the crowds of students rushing out of the school.

*

You’re passing by others on your way out of the building, just as relieved as everyone else to be going home for the day—not that your excitement showed. It’s more of a calm relief to be heading to your room again than everyone else’s bubbly enthusiasm to make plans for the rest of the day. (When they should be getting their assignments done after all it’s not Friday yet, you think, but maybe that’s just because you evidently have no life.)

Making your way through the parking lot, a loud horn makes you jump. Your eyes wild and your heart up in your throat, you look around until you spot Eddie laying on his horn with his tongue partially sticking out off to the side. He lets up the second you lock eyes and laughs.

“Need a ride? Gotta couple of good options.”

You huff, trying to ignore his filthy innuendo and shake your head. He groans, settling his head back against the head rest of his seat while you start walking away.

“What the fuck is your problem? Jesus fucking Christ!”

You keep walking, hearing his car door open and the sound of his sneakers on the pavement. His car buzzes irritably at its door being left open while running, but he doesn’t care. You’re sure he doesn’t care about anything, really. He rests a hand on your shoulder to turn you around.

“’m just not in the mood, Eddie.” You snap the second you’re facing him.

But you’re always in the mood, he wants to argue as if that made a difference right now. He lets out a long breath that puffs out his lips as he decompresses, arm bent up to rub his hand on the back of his neck. It’s evident that he’s not used to this, and doesn’t have a clue how to go about it. You eye him in that moment, waiting for him. Waiting for something that made that ache in your chest dissipate and the hole it leaves be filled with a light warmth. Then you’re ready to give up on waiting for something that clearly wasn’t going to happen when he suddenly dips down and drapes you over his shoulder all in one fluid motion.

“I- Eddie-!“

“I- Eddie- I-” He mimics, clearly out of habit and opens the back door to his van to plop you right on top of a random cushion nestled inside. It looks like it’s just a single couch cushion and you wonder where he got only one. Is it from an old couch that was getting tossed anyways? Did he steal it? Who steals a singular couch cushion from the seat of a sofa? And what was that stain on the corner? You’re shifting away from it as he climbs in after you, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his lips again until the door is shut and he’s settled against it with a sigh.

“Yoo-hoo.”

“What?”

He scratches his jaw as he looks over at you then points at the stain you were avoiding.

“Yoo-hoo. The drink. That’s what the stain is from.”

“Oh… okay.”

Eddie lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes going wide as he fights the urge to roll them while he stares up at the ceiling of his vehicle, and then he finally speaks up again.

“Why are you being all…” He gestures his hands out in a odd way, flopping them a bit before settling them on his legs again. He sighs, tilting his head down and looking over at you again. “I don’t fucking know… you’re not being fun this week.”

Your nostrils flare and your brow creases with a pulse of rage at his words.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m not playing your game, Eddie. For your information, yes—as you said so elegantly before— I’m ‘on my rag’ and don’t exactly feel like dealing with you.”

Despite the tone you’re taking with him, a grin is pulling at his face and a few laughs bubble from his chest that were almost like little amused giggles. God, he missed getting you all worked up.

“What? Never got it before?” He suddenly questions.

“I- What?”

He snickers.

“Your rag. The crimson tide. Never ridden the cotton pony before?” He’s having too much fun with this and your face is getting all hot.

“Cause I kinda doubt it. Y’know…” he gestures to your form, “The idea that you haven’t gone through puberty yet sounds fake to me, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well you’ve never acted like this before so unless this is your first week of Carrie...” He hisses an inhale through his teeth.

“My condolences, but look at it this way: You’re finally a woma- hey!” He’s laughing until he’s dodging the random work boot you toss at him—the sight of him scooting away from the projectile actually getting a giggle from you.

“Those ‘r for the garage, doll. Heavy duty shit, can’t be throwing those.” He chastises as he waves the shoe at you, but there’s a weight that’s lifting from him. He got you to just sit and talk to him, and even made you laugh. Even if you’re biting the inside of your cheek now to try and refrain from giving him the satisfaction of your smile. How are things like this right now? Shouldn’t he be bending you over his knee for not acting the way he wanted you to? Shouldn’t he be angry? Shouldn’t he be making you cry?

“I’ve gotten my period before.” You state simply. Eddie puts the boot down, dropping his head back against the interior of his van as he looks at you expectantly.

“Then what? What’s with the bitching and the ignoring and the crybaby shit?” He asks bluntly, making your brow furrow again.

“And not even the good crybaby shit,” he continues in a softer tone as he makes his way over to you, “Where’s my pouty girl, huh? Where’s my brat?”

My. My. It’s making your head swirl, his words and proximity putting up a good fight against this latest impulse to be cold to him. He’s settled in front of you and pulling you forward by your hips.

“Don’t wanna talk about it…” You murmur because he should know. He should’ve automatically known the second he left your room that he fucked up when he didn’t kiss you.

“No? Do I gotta bully it out of you, baby? Should I keep up with what I’ve been doing or are you gonna keep pissing me off with that silent treatment shit if I do?”

Watching your expression, his hands settled on your hips start to massage his fingertips in small circles against your lower back. A sigh falls from your lips before you can even stop it, melting from his touch. He’s massaging that spot that’s been tied up in knots the past couple of days, and taking care of it perfectly. Just when you think he’s suddenly a completely different person he stops the movements entirely. That familiar pout that he loves pulls at your lower lip, clearly disappointed by the loss of his kneading.

“Gonna tell me?” He coos, tilting his head.

Your lips part then close again, faltering on if you should just tell him. He mimics the motion then your pout before grinning at you again. You stay quiet, a new conflict arising inside your head. Should you just tell him and move forward? Should you let him suffer until he figures it out? He deserves to suffer in your book, but who knows how long it would take for him to realize. The man has failed his senior year twice already.

“No? Okay, doll.” He’s separating himself from you now, moving to a corner of his van to start digging through some random stacks and piles there.

He’s going on about how he’d help if he could, but he guessed that won’t happen now. How if only you’d cut lil’ ol’ him a break. His theatrical and bitter words are coated in a soft tone and playful, exaggerated sighs. He’s having all the fun in the world trying to tease you until you just sigh and admit whatever your major malfunction is. It’s lighthearted in comparison to his usual teasing, but even this starts bringing the tears forward.

You hate that he doesn’t know. That it clearly didn’t mean enough for him to notice. You hate that he pulls you in all smooth and sweet to get you intoxicated on him just for him to laugh over it and leave you alone again. You hate how he’s suddenly making you feel cared for just for him to go away again cause he isn’t getting what he wants. Now you’re desperately trying to hide the fact that you’re crying as all of your feelings and aches and pains of this week rush through you.

Sure, he’s seen you cry before but it was never like this. It was teary eyes from frustration or, recently, the occasional sob from how good he made you feel. It’s never been breaking down after a hard week. It’s never sobbing because after all this time the two of you finally cracked, and you’re scared you’re the only one increasingly enchanted every passing second since that first kiss. It was never hiccuping sobs that you were doing your best to push down. Your face is burning, your sight blurry even though tears kept rolling down your cheeks. It’s like there’s a never ending supply to stream down your face and still keep your vision bleary.

“Jus’ sayin’ we could be doing something way more fun right no…w…” He trails off once he finally looks over at you.

He’s holding an unopened pack of cigarettes he had been looking for in his typical mess and pulling out his lighter, but now all his focus is on the way you’re sniffling and shaking. You’re still sat on that cushion, knees up and a hand settled over your mouth with your head turned away from him. A heart-wrenching sob just barely sneaks its way out before you choke it back down. Little huffs are escaping you in a desperate attempt to breathe without letting your need to wail break free. It feels like your lungs are on fire.

“Y/N…” Eddie says in a tender voice that you didn’t think he was even capable of. You shake your head.

“Y/n c’mon…” He tries again with a small, nervous laugh. Nervous you were serious. Nervous that he really made you so upset. Nervous to really show that he cares if he did.

“It’s okay, really-“ Your voice is higher than usual, another heavy breath puffing out before you try to drag it in again just to end up whimpering as another wave of sadness comes over you and you’re too overwhelmed to hold it in. You stay facing away from him as you cry and hiccup, trying to get it back under control.

“I just- it’s stupid, it’s n-ot that big of a deal.”

For Eddie, making you cry is all about the glossy eyes and pouty lips as you stare up at him defiantly or a sign that you need him to quit playing games and fuck you. It’s never been this… brutal. Panic continues to rise in his system, and he’s unsure of how to handle the situation. Once upon a time, he thought he treated you the way that he did because some sadistic part of him liked to always make you hurt, but it was becoming evident that he just liked the play. The banter. The shoving and the glaring and pouting and the wandering eyes. When he acted the way he always did and you didn’t respond or did so in a quiet plea for him to really stop or really cried—it made his stomach clench. The more he tried to keep it up this week the more he realized that when you weren’t playing along he just… he was just mean. Really mean. Not “you’re so awful, just fuck me already” mean, but “you’re making me miserable” mean. And fuck if he didn’t hate the way that felt.

“Is it really that bad?” He murmurs, partially surprised by his own voice when it sounded this gentle. The thin plastic around his cigarettes crinkle under his nervous hands. And he thought he needed a smoke before. “Did I hurt you? Or-or somethin’? Do you need to go to a doctor?”

“No.” You weep, still refusing to look at him and it’s killing him even if a part of him knows he would crumble if he sees how you look right now. God, he hated this. The vulnerability of caring openly and to this extent, but what else could he do? Double down on his usual behavior and kick you while you were already so down you might as well have been sinking into the pavement?

“Y/N, please-“ He tries again and you crack completely.

“It’s just not fair because I thought I wanted this, but it’s to-oo hard. You don’t care enough to stick around. Y-You don’t check in with me. You’ve pushed me around for the past two years and I’m an idiot who thought it was all lighthe-hearted deep down, a-and that you wanted me too.”

You break down into tears again until you put yourself back together just enough so it’s only the constant sniffling and your voice trembling that’s interrupting you. All Eddie can do is stare at you with big brown eyes like saucers while you babble, his brow frowning as he anxiously picks at his fingernails and the skin around them.

“A-And of course I got my fucking period cause why wouldn’t I? Cause why would I catch a break? N-N my body aches and I’m so tired and you… you couldn’t… you didn’t…”

“What?” He’s shuffling a bit closer now, lowering his face like he always did to catch your attention. He was right that seeing your face like this would cave him in, and he wishes he could be dropped into a black hole. He knew he deserved it. At the sight of your current state, he was pulling that smoke he already had his fingertips on and placing it between his lips. He lights it and inhales deeply before letting his hand drop down, cig between his fore and middle fingers, ring finger toying with a tear in his jeans.

“You…” You let out a breath before dropping your gaze to your hands in your lap, tears still slipping down your cheeks and over your jaw to wet your neck and dampen the collar of your top or drop down and land on that skort he hated. “You wouldn’t even kiss me on Sunday…”

You sound horribly deflated at the admission, and his eyes flicker all over your features before the smallest twitches of the corners of his lips start to tug them up even though his eyes hold a sad sort of infatuation within them.

“You kissed me on Friday, but not once on Sunday. And you didn’t even seem to care…” You mumble, glancing over at him once and then twice when you notice the curve of his lips. Your eyes burn with a potential for new tears. “Are you fucking smiling?”

“No—no, well, yeah. Not like that.” He huffs out an anxious laugh. “I just… you ignored me… cause I didn’t give you a kiss..?”

You scoff, lips parted and gaze furious. He is unbelievable.

“Among other things! I-I… ugh! You’re infuriating!” You announce and his brows shoot up, grin widening with interest and he brings his cigarette back to his lips.

“You… you make fun of me constantly. You fuck me and finish in me and don’t even spend time with me after. The least you can do is kiss me. Or… or…” You huff, which was becoming a theme today.

He can’t help but find you cute when you’re angry. You remind him of that temperamental pixie in that old animated Peter Pan film from the ‘50s. He used to babysit a young girl in the trailer park who watched it constantly (much to his chagrin).

“Or you don’t get to have me anymore.” You conclude, and he just keeps staring at you with wild eyes as he smokes.

Your anxieties peak and a voice in your head is screaming to get out of the damn van, even when he’s just casually puffing on a cigarette without a hint of irritation on his face. Eddie lets the cig stick to his bottom lip as his hands find your form to pull you closer to him. His right hand raises to place the smoke between his middle and forefinger, and remove it from his lips. His left hand moves to hook his thumb on your lower lip and part your mouth for him to plant an open-mouthed kiss on you as his smoke floats around you and in your mouth, his tongue hot on yours. The pamphlets your parents gave you about the dangers of cigarettes popped up in your mind as his smoke fills you. The statistics and pictures of smoker lungs mean nothing to you as he kisses you like this.

You’re more than just warming up to the smell you usually couldn’t stand, and you find yourself back where you were on Friday. Willing to take whatever he gives you. As long as he kept kissing you like this. As long as he kisses you like he plans on making you his wife while he fucks you like he’s your high school bully. The kiss is all tongues and muffled moans, your arms wrapping around his neck. You chase after his lips when he finally starts pulling away. An involuntary whimper slid from you as you look at him with heavy eyelids.

“If you want something…” He trails off in a whisper, keeping his half-lidded eyes on you even as he reaches over to tap off ash into a cheap plastic tray. His thumb and pointer finger pinch your chin to keep your focus on him. “You ask, okay? Pretty standard rules, princess.”

“But…”

“But now,” He cuts you off with a soft sigh, head tilting as he looks at you. The eye contact is becoming so intense it’s burning through you. “Now I know this is important for you, ‘kay?”

You’re surprised by this. Honestly you’re shocked by every kindness and touch of patience he provided you today. You would have never guessed Eddie Munson is even capable of such a thing. You nod with your gaze retreating downwards, toying with your hands and he chases after your stare with a tilt of his head to try and get you to look at him again, brows raised up.

“Doll?”

You wipe at the cooling streaks of tears on one cheek with your shoulder then finally look up again, and nod with more confidence this time.

“And…” He looks almost like he’s in pain for a moment before he finally continues “‘m sorry, okay?”

“…Really?” You murmur, eyes wide with shock.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m capable of an apology, given the right circumstances.”

You eye him, silent with hesitation and shock.

“‘N the right girl.” He murmurs with a soft voice even though he had that shit-eating grin on his face. Why is it always so charming? It’s smug and teasing, but always so endearing.

You don’t know what else to do so you just kiss him. You pull him in by his shoulders and kiss him. You kiss him like you could devour him, body and soul. His arms circle around your waist after leaving that partly-smoked cigarette in the cheap ash tray and drags you closer all while kissing you back. He’s leaning down to place you on the scratchy carpeting and hover over you. Any break for air is short-lived before you’re back on each other. Your hands tangle in the messy curls draping around your head, tugging to pull a groan from him.

“Fuck…” He sighs into the kiss, dropping his body down to put more of his weight on you. He parts from your lips despite your whiny protests and presses kisses and nips to your jaw as he works his way to your neck. His arms unfurl from around your waist so his hands can settle on your hips and let his thumbs massage into your skin. You’re pawing at his vest as he works on leaving a love bite on your pulse point below your ear, and—surprisingly—he moves away to shake the jacket-vest combo off and drop it beside you. You eye the fit of his t-shirt and it makes your mind fog up.

All your focus is on the shape of his tummy against the fabric. The way the material sticks to him and shows all the harsh angles of his toned chest. The fact that he had cut off the bottom hem of his top and when he moves the right way you can see that trail of hair on his lower stomach. The shape of his arms under the sleeves. Does he work out? Considering his lack of discipline, you couldn’t imagine him having an exercise regimen, but dear god. His arms weren’t absurdly cut, but they were still thick with enough muscle that his sleeves seem a little tight. You can see the veins of his forearms and the blown out ink on his skin. When he’s on top of you again, sucking on your neck, you let your hands drag over his back and sneak underneath his shirt. The heat of his skin and the moving musculature alone making your toes curl. You’re happy to have him on you, but you wanted that damn shirt off too. You’re grasping at the fabric and pulling it up, gasping when he bites on your neck for doing so.

“Take that shit off-“ You huff, making a smile tug at his lips.

“Using my lines now, doll?” He purrs once he’s raised up again and grasping behind his head to pull his shirt over it. You can’t even think of a smart reply, your brain short circuiting at the sight of his naked torso. Even though you enjoy it, you never really understood his urge to bite. You sure do now. You shift from laying on your back to sit up in front of him while he remains raised up on his knees. Your hands slide up his stomach, feeling the goosebumps that raise in the wake of your cold fingertips. He’s still for once and you bring your hands back down to pull on his belt, fighting against the stiff leather to slide it out of the buckle.

You’ve never given head before, mainly because the only time there was an opportunity it had been with a guy you didn’t even like that much who kept trying to push your head down while you were kissing; but you felt feverish with thoughts of Eddie’s dick down your throat. While rushing to go down on him was the last thing you had on your mind at the start of your day, after he was so sweet on you, you were desperate to taste him.

Eddie’s breath is staggered as he watches you undo his jeans, his pupils all blown out. He can’t even count how many times he’s fantasized about those lips wrapped around his cock, but he knew after everything that he didn’t deserve to go first. Fuck, he wanted to, but he doesn’t deserve it. Belt open and slack and jeans undone, he grabs your hands to pin them over your head once you were pushed back onto the floor and he leans down to kiss you. One hand holds the side of your face and the other is pulling the zipper on your hip down, muttering a you first against your lips.

Before tugging at your skirt skort, Eddie pulled away again to lift your shirt off. He grew irritable for a moment with the long sleeves that fought him, tossing it aside harshly with a grumble that made you giggle. That gentle laugh was the only thing that lightened his mood again and encouraged a small smile before he continued. He kisses down your body, giving you the occasional bite. There are little things that he does along the way that make parts of you feel beautiful—parts that you either don’t pay attention to or even aren’t fond of. It’s an odd thing considering how mean he always is, but he seems to show a devotion to each and every inch of your skin that wouldn’t occur to most men. The way his hands slide along your sides as he makes his way down your chest, giving you the occasional squeeze. The way his arms slip around your midsection and bring you closer to his face with a press to the small of your back, smothering his face between your breasts still covered by a flimsy, lace bra—breathing in the scent of your skin. The way his hold relaxes as he continues down, just to squeeze you to him again when he finds a new spot he wants to smother himself in. One side of your tummy underneath your ribs. The slight rise of your lower abdomen beneath your belly button. Your hip bones.

You’re so drunk on his touch at first that it doesn’t even occur to you where this is leading until he’s already face-to-face with the center of your underwear.

“E-Eddie- no-“ You squeak out suddenly. “Not that.”

He lifts his head to eye you curiously and with surprise at the denial of getting head, lips parted in a question that you interrupt.

“I’m on my period, remember?”

Eddie half-jerks his shoulder up in a careless shrug. “Yeah, I know. So?”

“It’s just… it’s so messy and bloody. I wouldn’t even want you to eat me out right now if I was still mad at you.”

“Doll, c’mon…” He groans while pressing his face into your inner thigh—not to try and convince you to give consent cause he doesn’t care about this boundary, but rather to show how badly he wants to do this. That he doesn’t care about the mess and he doesn’t think it’s gross, in fact he found it hot. If you were sitting in his bed or in his passenger seat and got your period, his perv ass probably wouldn’t even try to remove the stain.

“I want to.” He insists, pulling away again to look up at you. “I think it would be so fucking hot. It’ll help the pain, princess.”

You consider the offer for a moment, wondering if he’s right. If he could make you feel so good that he’d reach and clear out those aches and pains that Tylenol couldn’t even touch. You still shake your head, the thought of all that blood on his tongue and the smell in his nostrils making you nervous and embarrassed. He groans again and dramatically flops into your stomach to hide his face.

“Not with your mouth.” You clarify, cheeks all rosy.

At that, he finally raises his head with a raised brow and his bangs all messy.

“Oh yeah?”

He’s sitting up now, settling back against folded legs as he raises your legs one by one to take your shoes off and toss them randomly. You tilt your head to watch one sneaker smack the back of the passenger seat, then look to the side to watch your second sneaker smack into the interior with a vibrating clunk. After taking off your shoes, your ankles are lightly settled on his shoulders and he has his hands wrapped around your calves as he tilts his head to press a kiss to the inside of one ankle. Then he’s moving to bite the inside of the opposite knee.

After that, he skips right back to your lips, your legs parted to settle on either side of him now. Eddie hooks his fingertips into the band of your underwear and pulls them down, having to begrudgingly separate enough so you can bend your knees up to your chest while he tugs them off your legs. He’s about to casually pull on the string of your tampon when you shake your head quickly and clasp your hand over your entrance.

“I’ll- I’ll do it.” You murmur and he’s (once again) groaning irritably.

He wishes you wouldn’t be so sheepish about it. He can understand the experience of your period not being the most comfortable thing in the world, but he doesn’t know what he has to do to show that he likes it. That he wants to go down on you and wipe that mess off of his face with pride, therefore not needing to look away at your insistence while you take out your tampon. Maybe it’s his pride in being a freak. Maybe it’s a slight twinge of superiority, knowing that he was one of the few guys that would even offer in the first place. Maybe it’s that breeding kink flaring up at what he saw as a glaring reminder that you could possibly get pregnant with his kid. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s you. But he lets you do it yourself, holding in his usual attitude for the sake of your sensitivity for once, then leaning back down to kiss you the second you give the okay.

The kiss doesn’t have as much of an apologetic gentleness as the others, but it was passionate and it was hot. The heavy breathing and groping and spit; the taste of cigarettes and mint; the scratch of slight stubble and the bump of his nose against yours. Eddie shot a hand out to feel for his jacket which he promptly crams under your tailbone to raise your hips, then dips his thumbs in the band of his exposed boxers to pull his pants and boxers down. (He didn’t take them off completely per usual, but you took getting him shirtless as your win).

Eddie pulls away just enough to wrap his hand around his cock, giving it a few good tugs before leading it to your entrance. He keeps an eye on your expression, plunging into you the moment his tip slid in. The few times he’s fucked you, you were always so messy and wet and warm, but this was enough to sign his soul away. You were soaked with arousal and blood as expected, but he wasn’t prepared for how much puffier you are like this. And so fucking hot. You mewl at the sensation, a dull ache in your lower abdomen at the start, but it’s slowly dissipating. Maybe it’s the association between blood and pain, and menstruation and pain, but you genuinely thought this would hurt more than usual—you certainly weren’t betting on your heightened sensitivity. Even that first stroke slipping into you lit up your nerves.

“‘S good, right?” He asks with a cocky grin, left hand wrapped around your right thigh and his right hand sliding over your tummy and slowly massaging the area.

You almost don’t want to admit it, but you do with a nod and pouty lips that have pathetic little whimpers slipping past them. Eddie slides back out a couple inches then pushes back into you, your toes curling as a bit of blood and arousal gushes and sputters out around his base. You curse under your breath, encouraging him to proceed. He’s uncharacteristically tender, and while seeing his sweet side today was a pleasant surprise—you just wanted him to fuck you.

“Eddie-“ You breathe out.

“Hm?”

“Please just fuck me.”

His grin is devilish and his gaze is fiery. He snaps his hips forward once without wasting a second, threatening to making your eyes roll back.

“Yeah?” He leans down, his voice a condescending whisper as he stays infuriatingly still while this deep. “My baby come cryin’ cause ‘m too mean? But she still wants me to bully her little pussy?”

You whine and nod your head, his following thrusts nearly punching the breath out of your lungs. His hand rests over your pubic bone and starts rubbing at your clit as he fucks into you. Your head lolls back into the carpeting, breasts bouncing with his efforts.

“Such a good fucking slut for me. This pussy all mine?”

“Uh huh-“ You speak in a whiny moan, hips weakly pushing forward and he takes the hint.

Eddie pulls you forward by your hips and holds you close to him as he gives you breathtakingly shallow thrusts. Your eyes begin to water from the way he’s moving inside you and his thumb is brushing on your clit. His other hand parts from your hip to grip onto the center of your bra, pulling it down to free your breasts and to keep a steady grip on you by the fabric clasped around your chest.

“Eddie-” You sob, and an earth-shattering sense of relief blows through him, leaving him temporarily wrecked before settling again like a gust of wind pushing up bird feathers before they smooth out again. Finally seeing those globs of tears in your eyes in the way he loves brought that balance back, and he’s doubling his efforts. Your lips part and your back arches up off of the carpet of his van, those wet streaks leading from your eyes back into your hair just like they were on Friday.

You’re counting your blessings that you aren’t back in your bed with your parents down the hall during your make up session because even the fear of being caught wouldn’t have been able to stop the moan that gasps from your lungs when you cum around him. All the tension and hormones and yearning of this week mixing with the overpowering pleasure he’s giving you, all culminating to this very moment and making you see stars. You feel like you’ve been temporarily shoved under water, all of the sounds around you muffling—even the sound of your own breathing. Just as you’re floating back up to the surface, Eddie’s leaning down to place his lips on yours. His large hands cover both sides of your face as he’s kissing you like he means it, only letting his hands part from your cheeks to wrap around your midsection and scoop you up while he sits back.

“Fuck-” You breathe out, hands settling to cradle the back of his head. You’re sure you look as disheveled as you feel. He thinks you look incredible.

“I know right?” He teases, all smug even in this quieter tone of voice and he laughs when you smack at his arm.

He eyes you from where his face is level with your chest, watching the playful irritation melt from your expression as he starts thrusting up into you. You’re almost too overstimulated from him moving so close to your orgasm that was still pulsing in the aftershock, but fuck if this doesn’t feel too good to pause even for a moment. Eddie wraps his arms around you to finally unclasp your bra and fling it towards the front of his van, metal hooks clinking against the hard surface of his dashboard. His hands smooth over your back, groaning against your skin as he smothers himself between your breasts again, fucking up into you. You start bouncing on top of him to meet his thrusts, whimpering quietly at the fluttering still rippling through your walls. You still have that palpable pulse inside you, squeezing around him and making it incredibly difficult to not cum before he can get you to let go at least one more time.

“C’n you cum for me, doll? Gimme one more?” He finally separates from your chest to look up at you again and while you were always the one looking fucked out, when you look at him you can’t help but feel like you’re seeing him the same way. A faint shine to his doe eyes glossed over with lust, that rosy tint to his cheeks, and the swell of his pink lips. You nod, but your hips buck in disagreement when his touch is back on your clit. It’s admittedly too soon, your eyes burning with prickling tears as the pleasure jolts through you like shocks of electricity rather than rolling waves—but you certainly weren’t going to ask him to stop.

You gasp out his name, fingers gripping the hair all damp with perspiration at the nape of his neck. You feel like you’re vibrating and the cramping in your stomach nearly makes you break and ask him to stop nudging at that sensitive bud. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, hearing him groan against your skin, feeling his hot breath on your chest. The two of you are moving like the universe would simply unravel if you stopped—as if it isn’t already unraveling in this moment.

“Oh my god-“ You moan and Eddie’s sinking his teeth into your breast—partly to punctuate his claim, partly to muffle his own sounds as he unloads inside of you.

You’re trembling in his lap with soft sobs in the aftershock of probably the most heart-stopping, all-consuming orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Even the slightest touch to your flushed skin sent shocks throughout your nerves and made you cry out, so Eddie stays still.

When both of your hearing is clear again, and you swallow to bring some moisture back to your throat—you let out a small laugh. It isn’t malicious or mocking. It rose up out of pure joy and relief and (honestly) a bit of surprise at everything that’s happened. And it all happened so quickly, you aren’t sure if your memory was able to keep up. God, you hoped it was. You want to relive it every time you close your eyes at night.

Eddie’s licking his lips and pulling back to look at you, a few laughs of his own bubbling up. Like always, he isn’t quick to pull out, but he does set you back down onto the carpet and press a few kisses to your jaw. His hands are pressed into the floor on either side of your head, pulling up his upper body to look down at you. Your hair is messy around your face, and streaks of mascara are all muddled around your eyes and down your cheeks. He put all of his weight on one arm to allow his other hand to raise up and swipe at those black streaks with his thumb before settling back down to kiss you, one arm still pressed up and bent at the elbow and the other settling his forearm on the rug.

The kiss is slower, but still sloppy with exhaustion. He pulls back one more time just to smile down at your face and ends up right back to kissing you seconds later.

*

The sun is setting in Hawkins and the two of you are all over each other until you realize how late it had gotten and your lips might as well have been ready to fall off. But even when you’re dropped off at home with excuses ready, he still climbed in through that bedroom window to keep kissing you once everyone in the house retired for the night.

After all, you finally left it unlocked and he couldn’t stand another week out in the cold.

*

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day... ↓

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[inklore]

impetuous

premise: the little games you and joel like to play become risky when you almost get caught.

pairing: joel miller x smuggler!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected piv, established enemies with benefits, dirty talk, a certain clothing item being used as a gag, small mention of masturbation and bjs, hints of angst.

note: episode eight changed me as a person, the integration scene rewired my brain chemistry and i just needed to get this out before i collapsed from being in heat. the gif was made by me so don't steal pretty please.

part of this world but you don't have to read it to enjoy this!

“Shh, shh,” Joel silences you, just as a hard thrust of his cock has your mouth falling open, a moan filling the air of the damp shed. The crunch of sticks and gravel outside makes your already thumping heart beat faster against your rib cage.

Brows drawn together, the hands gripping onto Joel’s flannel digging into his sides. The thumb that was just pressed to the column of your throat—dirty palm squeezing your airway just enough to lower your moans, enough to make you wetter and less coherent—now moves down to where you’re bare and his cock is fucking into you. The rough pad of his thumb moving along your clit, “focus right here.” 

Ignore the noises outside. 

Ignore the possibility of getting caught by someone out after dark and up to no good. 

Ignore the possibility of getting thrown in a cell by FEDRA because you two were out after dark and up to no good. 

“Fuc-Joel,” you whine. Clench your eyes shut until all you can see is little white dots behind them. Try to focus on those, on the burn you feel from the tears that are now prickling at your lash line from how hard you’re trying to focus. 

From how hard you’re trying to keep your mouth shut, to not getting caught—at least not before you’ve come. 

Joel’s words “focus right here” mocking and blaring in your head like a song you can’t stop humming, a song stuck in your head, a song you want to bodily remove from your brain stem; your focus on the footsteps outside no longer the issue; your attentions shifting to the head of his cock, hitting every spot inside of you that makes your legs tighten around his hips more, on the burning pleasure he’s delivering to your clit right now. 

You couldn’t focus on anything but him if you tried, and you’re trying really hard to focus that attention on staying quiet. 

Which the two of you know is not your forte, in and out of this situation. 

The countless times when Joel’s not fucking you come to the forefront of your mind of him complaining about your need to argue, to talk talk talk, instead of the two of you doing a trade, or making the other come. 

“Anyone ever told you you talk too much?” 

"Well, one of us has to do the talking, Mr. Resting Grump Face. Besides, you’d be bored if I didn’t make you work for what you came for.” 

“That what you call it? Workin’ for it? You mean until I give you what you want because you can’t seem to ask for it unless you’re deliverin’ me bad news,” he had smirked. Wiped the grin from your face and covered it with his mouth seconds later as he backed you into the wall, groin grinding against your front. “I got better uses for that mouth.” 

The scrape of the metal table your ass is on moves each time Joel thrusts, each time his cock drags against your sensitive walls over and over. If it weren’t for his jeans still covering half of him, the sounds of your skin moving against each other—and your wetness that was more than likely staining the front of his jeans, the small window in the back doing little to help light anything but his face and neck—would cover up the mewls and cries making your throat hoarse and raw each time they slip out when you fight to swallow them down. 

“The only way you know how to be quiet is with my cock in your mouth.” There’s humor in his tone; his heavy breaths add more heat to your face. You feel his free hand run along your leg, moving it from his hip for half a second as he pulls your underwear from your calf and over your ankle until it’s in his palm and he’s pushing the material into your mouth. 

You can taste the remnants of your arousal on the cotton, from even before the two of you started your little game. When it was still just a simple trade of stolen items and things your boss was too cowardly to hand off to the big bad grump. When he had just been scowling at you, listening to your bullshit story, and bidding the time until one of you cracked. Before both of you threw the items to the side and Joel’s hands were bending you over the nearest surface or pushing you to your knees. 

You swallow around the material, your whimpers caught by the fabric and barely audible. His lips press against the material, barely touching your lips; the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own as he presses it against yours. “Focus on comin’ for me, take what you came for. C’mon. Come with me,” he grunts. Moves his hips in a way that has your eyes rolling back and your teeth biting the salvia-soaked cotton. 

The hand not rubbing fast circles on your clit, cups the back of your skull. His dirty fingers wrapped in your hair, keeping you in place. Keeping you bent at the perfect angle so your hips can meet his. So his thumb has access to that nerve that’s making your toes curl—to push his cock further and further into you so the tip hits something pleasurably painful. 

When you’re coming, when his name is muffled against your underwear and your nails are clinging and digging into his skin from the searing heat that has your body convulsing against him—"That's it, that's it, take it” murmured against your forehead—you feel him finish seconds later. Your walls clenching and spasming around his cock. A deep grunt breathed against your skin. 

Your insides feel warm, like jell-o left out in the sun. Like if Joel never moved from between your legs and the two of you stayed connected forever, you wouldn’t mind. 

And after he’s pulled out and his warmth is gone from your body, you quickly shoot down the disappointment rising up inside of you that he didn’t stay between your legs longer. That this part of the night is over, and now you’re back to the game. 

To the reason you snuck out after dark to begin with. 

Completely denying yourself any opposing thought that could put that reason into question. The two of you have been doing this for too long for your mind to think it’s something it isn’t. 

Even when he doesn’t just take what he came for and leave or shoot you a scowl when he helps you find your pants, the way you expect him to. 

Or how he doesn’t let you go first no matter how much arguing you do against it—how he makes sure the coast is clear before signaling it’s safe. Him hanging behind to—cover his ass, you’re sure—make sure when you slip down the dark alleyway, no one is there to catch you sneaking away into the night. 

And later, when you’re laying in bed, you’ll chalk up the pounding need you feel again as you remember Joel’s rough fingers against you—your jaw, your neck, digging into your sides, your shoulder to keep you from moving anywhere but against him, anywhere but where he wouldn’t be inside of you—and his words still playing in your head “focus right here, come with me”, your heart will pick up, and you’ll have no choice but to sedate the ache you feel by making yourself come. Joel’s name on your tongue and bit into your bottom lip; you’ll blame it on his stupid mouth and your lack of options for sexual partners in this hell hole. 

It won’t be because of an attachment or attraction of any kind. 

Fuck that. 

And tomorrow, when you tell Robert to do his own fucking deliveries, it won’t be because of your feelings but instead because you almost got caught last night. This little game becoming more of a risk than entertainment for you, and you’ll be damned if you get in the mix with FEDRA over Joel and the underlying need the both of you have to pick each other apart and pull the hatred you harbor inside out with teeth, tongues, and fingers that make you see stars. 

But Robert is spineless, and you’re not convincing enough to make yourself believe you want to end anything with Joel. 

[heliads]

hiiii! I’d really like a Draco Malfoy x fem!slytherin!reader where they used to be BEST friends and started to date, but then ended up breaking up on bad terms (due to some angsty miscommunication). so it’s basically like best friends to exes to lovers but in the end it’s super fluffy and Draco’s a little simp even tho that’s lowkey ooc

'friendships end' - draco malfoy

masterlist

It’s been a long time since you’ve heard from Draco Malfoy, which is unusual. Typically, he likes to make his presence known. Yet it’s been many months since his owl sent word of his exploits, or the last time he sought you out in the Slytherin common room to explain at length the latest novelties to come his way. You used to love that, you know– the trust, the confidence in you to hear him out– but now you love the silence more, or so you tell yourself. Then again, you suppose the emptiness is your fault. After all, you’re the one who broke up with him. 

You hadn’t wanted to, of course. Not really. In the heat of yet another argument, you’d convinced yourself that a breakup would be good, but in the time since then, you’ve only been spiraling into memories of what had been yours before you took it all away. You had been happier with Draco, hadn’t you? Now all you can do is second-guess yourself and wonder if you had been wrong to end the one brilliant thing that had belonged to you and no one else.

It had been inevitable that you and Draco would start dating. That’s what your other friends of Slytherin House had said, at least, when the news broke. It seemed like the entirety of Hogwarts had known within a few hours of your first date together. Gossip spreads like wildfire in a school like this, and as it turns out, more than a few of your fellow students had been expecting you two to get together for quite some time.

At first, it had seemed like yet another victory in your pocket. Draco loved you and you loved him. The two of you were the talk of the town. Stealing Draco’s heart might have been the best hat-trick you’d ever pulled off, and he might say the same thing about you. You traded scarves and stole his jackets, bought each other roses and studied side by side in the common room every night, borrowing glances when you were sure the other wasn’t looking. Every move felt like a miracle– look at this person, who loves only me. Somehow, I managed to make them fall in love with me, despite all odds and all other people, and now they’ll be mine forever.

Only– forever isn’t a true thing, not in the wizarding world, and certainly not in fast-paced Slytherin. Every day, there are new battles to be fought, more prizes to be won, and victories that can be won by one person and one person only. You and Draco stopped competing together and started fighting against each other to secure the top places. Instead of being happy for each other when you got high exam scores, it felt like more nails in your coffin. Wouldn’t he grow tired of you if you couldn’t get your grades up? And he went to bed afraid, lay up all night wondering, wouldn’t you move on if Draco couldn’t win more Quidditch games?

Regardless if the two of you actually depended that much on each other’s academic and personal successes for your love to flourish, it certainly felt that way. The other Slytherin students, which at first had welcomed your relationship with open arms, turned against you, whispering to each other like snakes whenever you passed them in the corridors. Nowhere felt safe except by each other’s side, and then not even that. You swore Draco was mocking you to Crabbe and Goyle. He thought you were bad-mouthing him to Pansy and Astoria. 

And then, after weeks of rumors and indecision, it all came to a fiery head. You accused each other of not actually caring about each other and lying about what you’d done and worse things, too. When the voices were raised and the words got bad, you pulled for the last weapon you had up your sleeve and announced that you wanted to break up with him. You were assuming that Draco would recognize the move for what it was, a last-ditch attempt for him to realize that you were on fragile ground, but instead his eyes just flashed and he agreed that separation would be best for you two.

All of a sudden, it was over. Years in the making, only months in the having. The two of you have never been able to do anything but escalate a situation– grades, love, and this, now– so of course Draco would never back down from a fight. One of you always had to be better. One of you always had to have the last laugh. And now you’re both alone, forever on opposite sides of a classroom or common room, staring daggers at each other’s backs because it’s the only glimpse you’ll ever be able to catch of the person who had once sworn to love you forever.

It’s terrible because not only have you lost your love, you’ve lost your friend. You and Draco were the best of friends before you started dating, it’s why you felt confident enough to risk your heart on a Malfoy. You knew he would never hurt you because he never has, and then he did. Sitting with the broken fragments of your heart in your hands, your first instinct was to go to Draco about this, and then the truth slowly sunk in that you couldn’t, that you never could trust him with your honesty again. Draco knew every part of you, broken and bare, good and bad and ugly, and he ended things anyway. If Draco Malfoy can break your heart, then where is the proof that love could ever exist anywhere again?

Friendships end. Friendships always end. You know this to be true. Either by sudden death or slow drifting, best friends never stay that way forever. You’ll have irreconcilable differences that lead to jaded arguments, or time will intervene and you’ll stop seeing each other around, then stop making attempts to care. You’ve chosen the first end, it seems, but since when would anything with you and Draco end with a lackluster indifference? You would either pledge yourselves to each other forever or go out with enough chill to ice you both out for good. There was no world in which you could go quietly.

Perhaps this is true, perhaps it was meant to be all along that two people so ambitious and excitable as you two could never end with anything but terror, but Merlin, if you don’t hate it now. You straggle from class to class, hardly able to convince yourself to put in the effort to care about what you’re learning. You’ll lock in long enough to study for exams, and turn in halfway decent papers, of course, but your heart isn’t in it anymore.

And how could it? You have no heart. It’s gone, lost to you forever in the annex of a corridor a few turns away from the Slytherin common room, where Draco stalked away from you, unaware or perhaps not caring about the blood he tracks wherever he goes. He ripped your heart in two and washed his hands of the agony. You wish you could do the same, but every new day just reminds you of how much you wish you were with him.

Still, you move on, or you try to, at least. Draco clearly has. He hardly spares a word for you, not even a gloating reminder that he’s got the upper hand since he isn’t wallowing in self-pity on a day-to-day basis. He’s simply busy all of the time, too busy for you. You’re not so busy that you don’t notice it, and certainly not busy enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

Yes, you miss Draco, but who wouldn’t? What a time in your life. There are some people in life that you simply won’t be able to forget, and you have a feeling that Draco Malfoy is one of them. As much as you would love to push him into the past and lock him up with all the other dusty relics of times long since gone, he refuses to be barricaded with the rest of your childhood playthings and old friends.

He’s always been too ambitious for his own good, hasn’t he? And so have you. It’s what drew the two of you together in the first place, and it’s what drew you apart. You try to use that same strength to push yourself onwards and upwards, and it works for a time, but never completely. You can throw yourself back into your studies and spend your free time laughing with friends, but there will always come a time at the end of the day in which you have nothing to occupy your heedless minutes, when the gloomy thoughts come creeping back in again and you wonder– just why did you have to let him go, really?

Not even the strictest schedule in the world can free you of regret, it seems. You feel like you’re being torn apart at all seams even as you attempt to force yourself back together again. Your nerves are flighty, your senses on constant high alert, and you can’t seem to stop your eyes from scanning the room whenever someone exits or enters, just in case Draco might come in, just in case he might see you as anything but your best. You have to prove that you’re doing better than him, but you’re not sure if you can convince him of that when you can hardly convince yourself.

Days go by, blending into weeks, and then two months have come and gone and you’re no better off than you were at the start. Things with Draco are still painful, like testing a wound just to watch the stitches come undone. Every interaction with him is terrible. You run into each other in the corridors and he practically flinches with an effort to look away again. You both raise your hands to answer the same question in class and you almost sprain a muscle in your effort to quickly pull your arm down again. You and Draco approach the entrance to the common room at the same time and have to stand there, side by side, pretending you don’t notice each other at all. 

It’s an awful sort of hell, having to feign indifference to the one person who used to be able to read you like a book. Maybe he still can, maybe not even time and separation can heal Draco of that great gift, or maybe he just doesn’t care enough to attempt to read between your lines anymore. Maybe he’s not faking apathy with you. Maybe he truly just doesn’t care.

Despite your tendency to think that way, your friends seem to have none of it. They keep telling you that he stares when he thinks you’re not looking, that every time some boy asks for your help on a problem in class, Draco snaps a quill or otherwise looks like he’s going to burst a blood vessel from failing to keep himself in check.

You don’t have the heart to believe them. Your friends will tell you whatever they think is right to get you to smile again. You know you’ve been ruining the mood whenever you complain about Draco, but you’ve been trying to work on that, too. You’ve been trying to work on a lot. It doesn’t always go the way you plan it.

Still, when they talk like that, you can’t help but secretly listen along. You catch Draco looking one time, then again. The second time, he doesn’t look away, but keeps holding your gaze like an oath, a promise. He used to smile whenever he caught your eye in class, but this time, his gaze is more serious. It feels like life and death, and it’s only just the two of you happening to look the same way at the same time.

Everything feels charged. You cross paths and the entire corridor seems to crackle with energy. You know how this feels, you remember it from the first time around, so at this point, it isn’t a question of if you’ll make another mistake but when.

When, as it turns out, is about a week later. You’re walking back from the library, late one night when a problem set got the better of you. After finishing the work at long last, all you want to do is go back to the Slytherin common room so you can go to sleep. Halfway back, though, you run into Draco, obviously coming from a similar situation given the ink stains on his writing hand.

Usually, this is the part where one of you doubles back or otherwise hides from the other, but instead Draco looks at you, and says, “Walk with me?”

You agree before you know what you’re doing. At first, your footsteps echo in the silent halls, and then you gather up the courage to speak again. “It’s been a while since I saw you.”

Draco scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. I saw you in class this morning.”

You give him a dour look. “You know what I mean. I don’t think you’ve spoken to me on purpose since–”

Since the fight, that is. Since both of you walked out on each other. Draco looks away for a moment, and when he speaks again, the syllables are terse and clipped. “I didn’t think you wanted to talk. After all, you were the one who ended things.”

You sigh. “I didn’t want to, though. It was a stupid thing to say and we were both angry at each other. We’d had arguments before, I thought we’d talk it over in a day or two and then be fine.”

“And then we weren’t,” Draco supplies.

“And then we weren’t,” you repeat listlessly. A moment later, you can’t help but add on somewhat desperately, “Where did we go wrong, Draco? What happened to us?”

Draco’s gaze is bleak and painful. “I don’t know. I’ve tried thinking it over loads of times. I thought you liked me.”

“I did,” you insist. Then, quieter:  “I do.”

He risks a quick glance your way. “Still?”

You don’t dare look at him outright. He’s always been an expert at calling your bluff, anyway. You reckon he doesn’t need to hold your gaze to know when you’re telling the truth. “Always. I never thought you’d leave me, Draco. I didn’t know what to do without you. I tried to move on, but I couldn’t.”

“Neither could I,” he reveals. “Every time I saw some bloke flirting with you, I wanted to hex him. Worst part was, I couldn’t admit to being angry because I wasn’t supposed to be jealous.”

“You were jealous over someone asking me for help on the homework?” You ask, a quiet laugh rising to your lips.

“They weren’t just interested in the homework,” Draco insists, although his irritation starts to fade when you laugh outright.

“Alright, then. Let’s say you did have something to be jealous about. Would that mean that you– that you wanted–”

“It means that I want you, Y/N,” Draco says, quickly stepping in front of you so you’re forced to stop walking and look directly at him. “I want you back. I want us back. What do you say?”

He’s close, so close. He hasn’t been this close since an empty room and a furious argument. This time, though, you’re not unhappy. Far from it.

“I say yes,” you tell him, and the words have hardly left your lips before he leans forward and kisses you.

You’ve had many victories over your time at Hogwarts. You’ve aced exams, you’ve done well in competitions, you’ve won the boy you loved, twice. This kiss feels like the best of them all.

harry potter tag list: @blondsauduun, @with-inked-solace, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @sher-lokid7, @eclliipsed, @frenchgirlinlondon, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[kayewrite]

I hate to admit

(bsn ending #3)

changbin x reader!! changbin x fem.reader!! word count: 2.5k

bsn alternative ending #3 wherein; changbin who can't believe that he falls in love with you, and do the dumbest thing he thought he would never do.

an: i love this.

an: i have alot of upcoming exam so maybe i would post some parts at the same time.

part 1! part 2!

At first, Changbin just wanted to tease you. It was like a game to him, a way to pass the time and keep things light. You had this way of reacting that was just too entertaining—your exaggerated eye rolls, the way you'd huff in mock annoyance, and then the inevitable laugh that would bubble up despite yourself. Changbin thrived on that; it made him feel like he had the upper hand, that he could easily get under your skin in the most harmless way.

It started innocently enough. You were just friends, and that’s all it was supposed to be. He loved the banter, the ease with which you two could go back and forth, trading playful insults and teasing each other about the smallest things. He loved how you’d get flustered when he pushed your buttons, and how you’d always try to get him back but never quite succeeded. It was fun, nothing more.

Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But then, things started to change, even if he didn’t want to admit it. It wasn’t just about the teasing anymore. He started noticing little things about you—how your smile could light up a room, how you’d chew on your lip when you were thinking, how your laughter was the one sound he always wanted to hear, no matter how bad his day was going. He found himself looking forward to seeing you, to hearing what you’d say next, to feeling the warmth of your presence.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It was gradual, like a slow burn that he didn’t even realize was happening until it was too late. He started to notice how his heart would skip a beat when you were around, how he’d feel a strange sense of protectiveness whenever someone else got too close to you. He hated it. It didn’t make sense. You weren’t his type—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. You were just his friend, nothing more. But no matter how much he tried to push those feelings away, they kept coming back, stronger and more persistent each time.

He told himself it was just a phase, that he’d get over it. But then there was that day, the day you cried in his arms. It was unexpected, and it shook him to his core. You weren’t the type to cry easily; you were strong, independent, always ready with a comeback. But seeing you like that, so vulnerable and in need of comfort, it did something to him. He held you close, whispering soothing words, and in that moment, he realized just how much he cared about you. Not just as a friend, but as something more.

That’s when it hit him—he wasn’t just having fun anymore. This was serious. He had feelings for you, feelings he had been trying to deny for so long. And he hated it. He hated how you were starting to become beautiful in his eyes, how you were becoming more important to him than anyone else. The girls he used to date, the ones he thought were perfect, suddenly seemed so superficial in comparison. You were different. You were real, and that scared him more than anything.

But there was no denying it now. The more time he spent with you, the deeper he fell. And that terrified him.

“I think I like her,” he finally admitted to Hyunjin one day, his voice barely above a whisper as he stared at the ground, unable to meet his friend’s eyes.

Hyunjin paused, blinking at Changbin like he'd just grown a second head. It was the first time Hyunjin had ever seen him look so vulnerable. Changbin, the tough guy who always had a snarky comeback, was bowing his head, almost as if he was ashamed.

Hyunjin snorted, trying to stifle his laughter. "Why do you look like you just admitted to committing a crime?" he teased, twirling a pen in his hand as he eyed Changbin with amusement.

"You don't understand," Changbin grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "She’s seen me with all those other girls. She probably thinks I'm a jerk."

"Well… you kind of are," Hyunjin said with a smirk, earning a glare from Changbin. "And besides, she’s your friend. Doesn’t that make it even more complicated?"

Changbin sighed, leaning back against the couch. "She deserves someone better. Someone who doesn’t have a track record like mine."

Hyunjin nodded thoughtfully before breaking into a mischievous grin. "You know who that is, right?"

Changbin frowned, not catching on to the joke. "Who?"

"Me," Hyunjin said with a cocky smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Changbin’s eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, he gave Hyunjin a playful shove. "Don’t tell me…"

Hyunjin just laughed, the kind of laugh that echoed with a challenge. "What? Scared of a little competition?"

Changbin rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. And just like that, the two of them were in a playful competition—both too stubborn to confess, both too proud to back down.

Changbin had never been one to second-guess himself, especially when it came to girls. But this time was different. For days, he had wrestled with the idea of confessing to you, feeling torn between his usual confident self and the unfamiliar vulnerability that came with liking someone genuinely.

It was a feeling that gnawed at him, a mix of excitement and fear that kept him up at night. He’d planned it out in his head a thousand times—how he’d approach you, what he’d say, and how he’d try to keep his cool. But every time he thought about it, his heart would race, and his words would get jumbled up in his mind.

Finally, one day, Changbin decided he couldn’t wait any longer. It was now or never. He’d confess to you, and he’d do it in a way that was both personal and meaningful—something that showed how much you meant to him.

But when the moment came, Changbin found himself sitting at his desk, staring down at a small blue sticky note. His heart pounded as he held the pen in his hand, trying to figure out the right words. He couldn’t believe he was doing this—writing a confession on a sticky note like some lovesick kid. It felt so unlike him, yet at the same time, it felt like the only way he could express what he was feeling.

“Love really does change you,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “It makes you a fool.”

The playboy who used to flirt with girls without a second thought was now reduced to sneaking around, trying to leave a secret note in your binder. It was almost laughable, but Changbin couldn’t deny the fluttering in his chest as he wrote down his confession.

He stared at the words for a long moment, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and anxiety. This was it—his feelings laid bare on a tiny piece of paper. He quickly folded the note and looked around the classroom, making sure no one was watching.

When you excused yourself to go to the bathroom, Changbin seized the opportunity. His heart raced as he sneaked over to your desk, his hands shaking slightly as he slipped the note into your binder. He quickly pulled back, almost as if the binder had burned him.

“It’s done,” he thought, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, though the nervousness still lingered in the pit of his stomach.

But just as he was about to head back to his seat, Seungmin walked in, his sharp eyes immediately noticing Changbin’s unusual behavior.

“What was that?” Seungmin asked, raising an eyebrow.

Changbin shot him a nonchalant look, trying to play it cool. “Mind your own business, puppy,” he replied with a smirk, using the nickname that always seemed to get under Seungmin’s skin.

But Seungmin wasn’t so easily fooled. He had known Changbin long enough to recognize when something was up, and the way Changbin was acting only made him more curious. His eyes narrowed as he watched Changbin walk back to his desk, the usually confident boy now looking slightly rattled.

Seungmin frowned, glancing towards your desk. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him, and despite Changbin’s dismissive attitude, Seungmin couldn’t help but feel like there was more to this than met the eye.

Once Changbin’s back was turned, Seungmin casually strolled over to your desk, his curiosity getting the better of him. He knew he shouldn’t pry, but something was urging him to take a look. Slowly, he reached out and opened your binder, his heart pounding as he found the blue sticky note tucked inside.

As he unfolded it, Seungmin’s eyes widened in surprise. There, in Changbin’s unmistakable handwriting, was the confession. The words were simple but sincere, and Seungmin felt a strange mix of emotions swirling inside him. He knew Changbin cared about you, but seeing it written out like this made it all too real.

He took a deep breath, trying to process what he had just discovered. Changbin, the notorious playboy, was confessing to you. Seungmin couldn’t believe it, and yet, at the same time, it made perfect sense.

But as he was about to close the binder, something else caught his eye. There, in the back of your notebook, was a small drawing—a sketch of Changbin, with a heart drawn beside it. Seungmin’s heart sank as he stared at the drawing, the reality of the situation hitting him like a ton of bricks.

“They’re so childish,” he muttered under his breath, trying to brush off the pain he felt creeping into his chest. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, the truth was there, staring him in the face. He liked you too, and seeing this only made it harder to deny.

Seungmin quickly closed the binder, hiding the note and the drawing from sight. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He didn’t want to acknowledge the pang of jealousy that gnawed at him, or the fact that he might be losing you to Changbin.

As he walked back to his seat, Seungmin forced a smile, trying to act like nothing was wrong. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to change, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for it.

--

"Here is the toothpaste-flavored ice cream I promised you," Changbin said, shoving it into your hands with a playful grin.

You glared at him, giving him the most deadly look ever. "Why do you like this stuff? It’s like eating bubbles while you’re brushing your teeth," he teased, his face twisted in mock disgust, though you could see the laughter in his eyes.

Ignoring his teasing, you took a bite, savoring the cool minty flavor. "Why do you care? You even like pizzas with pineapples on top! Pineapples are pineapples!" you retorted, raising an eyebrow at him.

Changbin burst out laughing, "Pineapple on pizza is the best!"

"No, it’s not," you shot back, rolling your eyes.

"And mint chocolate chip ice cream is never," he countered, sticking his tongue out in disgust.

You pouted, shielding your ice cream protectively as if it had feelings. "Don’t talk like that right in front of my ice cream."

He chuckled, leaning back on his hands, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to tease you. The two of you were sitting on a bench, overlooking the vast field at your school. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything.

"There are indeed things that shouldn’t be put together," he said, his tone more serious now, "but others love it."

You nodded silently, sensing the shift in his mood.

"Everyone thought it was wrong, but for some, it was perfect," he continued, his voice softer, almost reflective.

You listened quietly, understanding what he was trying to say. "No matter what other people say, you don’t want to care. Because their opinions don’t matter," you added, your voice filled with quiet determination.

Changbin looked at you, and you looked back at him. A small smile tugged at his lips, and you couldn’t help but smile back. In that moment, everything felt simple and clear.

He hated to admit it, but he was really in love with you, deeper than he had ever expected.

-

When his birthday came around, you carefully packed the watch you had bought for him. It was special, not because it was expensive, but because it held a little secret—something only you knew about. Inside the box, you slipped in a small drawing you had made, along with a letter.

You arrived at the party, trying to feel happy, but the tension in the air made it hard. There were too many emotions swirling inside you—happiness, confusion, and a nagging sense of guilt. You didn’t know what to feel.

Before you could walk out, you handed Changbin his birthday gift, your heart pounding in your chest. He had planned to confess to you on his special day, but now, seeing the look in your eyes, he wasn’t sure what to do. So, he decided to give you some space.

After the party, when everyone had gone home, Changbin sat down and opened your gift. Inside, he found a watch. He already had many watches, but this one immediately became his favorite.

He thought that was all you had given him, but then he noticed a small piece of paper tucked inside the box. Curious, he unfolded it and found a drawing of himself, accompanied by a letter.

As he read the letter, his heart began to race.

"I wish you a happy birthday. I hope you have the best day…" the letter began.

Changbin suddenly sprang from his seat, grabbing his keys and jacket in a rush. He had to see you, and he had to see you now.

He hurried to his car.

"I hate to admit but this is a very lame way to confess…"

His eyes welled up with tears as he sped down the road, the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over.

"…I like you… but I know you also see me as a friend."

You stood by the window of your apartment, feeling the cool evening breeze on your face. Your heart was heavy with all the emotions you had been holding back.

"and… I know you were the one who put the note,"

Just as you were about to turn away from the window, a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat, and you knew who it was before you even opened the door.

It was Changbin.

You both hated to admit it, but you were both childish, caught up in your own fears and insecurities. But now, standing there in the doorway, all that mattered was the truth that had finally come to light.

--

em: i love this changbin. i cri. why no one chooses him btw TT

masterlist

[songbirdseung]

ALBUMS AND PHOTOCARDS / EN-

synopsis: your boyfriend gets upset that you don't pull his photocard from their recent comeback's album.

HEESEUNG 이희승 ~

might print out his picture and slap it on the other member's pc

silly little baby

"what do you mean you wanted jake's pc?"

You enter your shared apartment, excitedly clutching the latest album from your boyfriend group. Heeseung watches you with keen interest, his eyes shining with excitement as he imagines the possibility of you pulling his photocard. You carefully open the album, and as you flip through the pages, you notice Heeseung's expression growing increasingly hopeful.

You pull out the first card and, to Heeseung's dismay, it's not him. His face falls, and he looks at you with a mix of disappointment and disbelief.

"What do you mean you wanted Jake's PC?" Heeseung ask, genuinely confused. Heeseung pouts, crossing his arms like a sulking child. You can't help but chuckle at his adorable sulking. "Come on, baby, it's just luck. Let's check the other cards."

As you continue pulling out the photocards, Heeseung's hope slowly fades with each passing moment. Finally, you reach the last card, and it's still not him. Heeseung lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing himself back on the couch. "Maybe I should just print out my picture and slap it on the other member's PC," he says, half-jokingly.

You burst into laughter at his playful threat. "You wouldn't do that, would you?" Heeseung grins mischievously.

You roll your eyes playfully, realizing that his disappointment is all in good fun. "Okay, okay, I'll make it up to you. How about we take a cute selfie together and print it out to put in the album?" Heeseung's eyes light up at the suggestion, and he quickly grabs his phone.

JAY 박종성 ~

doesn't really mind

if it is Jungwon, he might even take it from you

"i'll just get you mine tomorrow at work"

He's sprawled out on the couch, engrossed in his phone, but he looks up with a bright smile as you approach. Excitedly, you sit down next to him and begin opening the album. Jay watches with interest but doesn't seem too invested in the outcome. As you pull out the first card, and it's not Jay.

He glances at it briefly before turning back to his phone, seemingly unfazed. "Oh, nice. Sunghoon's card. That's cool." You look at him in surprise. "Aren't you disappointed it's not yours?"

Jay chuckles, shaking his head. "Nah, I don't really mind. It's all random luck anyway." You continue pulling out the remaining photocards, and Jay remains nonchalant, showing no signs of disappointment. As you finish, you look at him curiously. "You're really okay with this? I thought you'd want me to have your own PC."

He smirks playfully. "If it was Jungwon, he might've snatched it from you, but I'm cool. Besides, I'll just get you mine tomorrow at work."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh, really? You have a plan, huh?" Jay nods, grinning. "Absolutely. I'll trade with someone or sneak into the storage room. No worries; I got this." You happily oblige, snapping a cute picture with Jay, grateful for his carefree approach to the whole situation.

JAKE 심재윤 ~

petty

will go to the company and switch it for his photocard

"Jay's overrated anyway, here's mine"

You burst into the room, Jake looks up from his game console, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grins at you. "Hey there, ready for the moment of truth?" you tease, holding up the album.

Jake smirks, leaning back on the couch. "Oh, I've been waiting for this. Make sure you get my PC, okay?" You roll your eyes playfully and begin unboxing the album. You pull out the first card, and it's not Jake. He raises an eyebrow, looking at you with mock disappointment. Jay's overrated anyway," he declares, crossing his arms. "Here's mine."

Before you can react, he reaches into his bag and dramatically gives you his own photocard, as if he had planned this all along. You stare at him in disbelief. "Wait, did you seriously bring your own photocard just in case I didn't pull yours?" you ask, incredulous.

Jake grins, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You never know with these things. Gotta be prepared, right?" You can't help but laugh at his level of pettiness. "Okay, Mr. Sim. I'll remember that for next time."

But Jake isn't done. He smirks even wider. "You know what? I think I'll go to the company tomorrow and switch Jay's PC for mine."

You burst into laughter, finding his over-the-top response hilarious. "Jake, seriously? You're going to go all the way to the company just for that?" He nods, completely serious. "Absolutely. It's a matter of principle."

SUNGHOON 박성훈 ~

pretends to not care

but deep inside he's a little cranky'

"it's whatever, just a piece of paper"

"Alright, let's see if I got your photocard," you say, flipping through the pages. Sunghoon glances at you briefly, a faint smile playing on his lips. As you reveal the first photocard, it's not Sunghoon's. You show it to him, expecting a reaction, but he simply shrugs, maintaining his facade of indifference.

"It's whatever, just a piece of paper," he says coolly, avoiding eye contact. You give him a skeptical look. "Come on, don't tell me you don't care at all. It's your own photocard!"

Sunghoon remains composed, feigning disinterest. "I mean, it's nice to have, but it's not a big deal. Just a picture, right?" You continue pulling out the remaining photocards, and each time, Sunghoon's poker face remains intact. However, deep down, you can sense a slight crankiness building up.

"Seriously, Hoon, I thought you'd be more excited," you comment, teasingly poking his side. He smirks, finally breaking character. "Okay, fine, maybe I wanted my girlfriend to have my own photocard. Just a little."

You chuckle at his admission. "I knew it" Sunghoon grins, rubbing the back of his neck. "But hey, let's take a selfie together. That way, I'll have a better picture than any photocard." As you capture a picture with Sunghoon, you can't help but appreciate his attempt at nonchalance, even though the tiny bit of crankiness underneath only makes him more endearing.

SUNOO 김선우 ~

packed your album himself

so he doesnt have to worry about it

"i didnt want you carrying another man's photo around"

"Guess what I did?" he says, holding up the album in his hands. You raise an eyebrow, curious. "What did you do, Sunoo?"

He beams proudly. "I packed your album for you. No need for you to worry about pulling another man's photo." You chuckle at his playfulness. "Oh, really? And how did you manage that?"

Sunoo stands up, presenting the neatly packed album to you. "I made sure your hand went straight to my photocard. No room for mistakes!" You burst into laughter. "You're quite the strategist, aren't you?"

He nods, looking pleased with himself. "Of course! I didn't want you carrying another man's photo around. It's all about loyalty." As you both sit down to unbox the album, Sunoo watches with anticipation. Sure enough, as you reach the photocard, there it is – Sunoo's smiling face. "See? I told you I got this!" he exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

JUNGWON 양정원 ~

pouty wonie

but if your happy with your pull, he'll accept it

"you like it right, okay, im happy then."

There's a hopeful glimmer in his eyes as he watches you approach. You sit down beside him and begin to open the album, but as you see the card, you notice a pout forming on Jungwon's lips. It's clear he's hoping for a specific result. As you pull out the first photocard, Jungwon's eyes fixate on it. His disappointment is palpable, but he quickly tries to hide it behind a forced smile.

"Oh, Ni-Ki's photocard. That's cool," he says, attempting to sound casual. You can't help but sense his slight disappointment. "Are you sure you're okay with it, Wonie? I can always try to trade it for yours."

Jungwon's pout deepens, but he shakes his head, trying to be supportive. "No, no, it's fine. If you like it, then it's all good." You decide to tease him a bit. "Are you sure? You seem a bit pouty."

He lets out a dramatic sigh. "Okay, maybe I was hoping for my own photocard. Just a little." You chuckle at his honesty. "Well, I guess I'll have to pull yours next time. You can't have it every comeback, right?"

Jungwon nods, his pout softening into a small smile. "True. As long as you're happy with your pull, I'm happy too." You show him the rest of the photocards, and he manages to stay enthusiastic, even if a bit pouty. When you finish, he looks at you earnestly.

"You like it, right? Okay, I'm happy then," he says, and this time, his smile is genuine. You give him a grateful smile in return. "Of course, Wonie. Your photocard is always my favorite." Jungwon's pout disappears, replaced by a contented expression. Even if he didn't get his own photocard this time, your happiness is what matters most to him.

NI-KI 西村 力 ~

it's either he rolls his eyes in disappointment or he doesn't care

might just send you 100 selfies instead

"i'm just that rare to get"

His reaction is swift – either he rolls his eyes in disappointment or he simply looks at you, unfazed. If he rolls his eyes, he quips, "Seriously? Again?" in a playful yet slightly disappointed tone.

You try to soothe his disappointment, saying, "Hey, it's just luck. I'll get yours next time, I promise." Ni-ki might continue rolling his eyes, but there's a small smirk on his face, implying he's not too bothered.

If he doesn't care, he simply shrugs and says, "Eh, it's whatever. Not a big deal." You look at him, surprised. "Really? You're not disappointed?" Ni-ki smirks, reaching for his phone. "Nah, I'll just send you a hundred selfies to make up for it."

You laugh at his carefree attitude. "A hundred selfies? Isn't that a bit excessive?" He grins, holding up his phone. "I'm just that rare to get. Gotta make the most of it."

You shake your head, amused by his playful response. "Alright, Ni-ki, I'll gladly take those selfies. But next time, I'll make sure to pull your photocard." He chuckles, giving you a playful nudge. "Good luck. I'm counting on you."

[rendezvouz-fling]

Astro Observations #18

• I’ve noticed Water suns especially Pisces are really good at playing the Villain’s role in movies/series! They’re the types of villains you’ll easily remember and love to hate! E.g. Martin Kove (who plays the ‘no-mercy’ Sensei Kreese from The Karate Kid trilogy and the Cobra Kai series), Thomas Griffith (who plays the jack-of-all-trades eccentric Terry Silver from the 3rd Karate Kid movie and the Cobra Kai series) and Jacob Bertrand (Eli Moskowitz a.k.a. ‘Hawk’ from the Cobra Kai series) are all Pisces suns. Also Sean Kanan (Mike Barnes from the 3rd Karate Kid movie) & Dallas Young (Kenny Payne from the Cobra Kai series) who are both Scorpio suns.

• The main characters in cheerleader movies like the Bring it on series are mainly Leo and Libra suns while the mean girls are mainly Water suns. E.g. Solange (Camille from Bring It On: All Or Nothing) is a Cancer sun and Rachele Smith (Avery from Bring It On: Fight To The Finish) is a Scorpio sun.

• Venusians tend to be very attractive!! They might be known for their good looks and subconsciously or not might just have good taste in fashion/aesthetics.

• They can also be known as good singers.

• Aquarius moons are the type of relatives that distance themselves from the family as they grow older or they just go M.I.A. on their relatives lol.

• Aries placements are the ultimate ride-or-die friends. Prove me wrong.✋🏽

• Water placements are really good at drawing/sketching!! My mom is a Scorpio sun/mercury and my dad was a Scorpio mars and they both draw REALLY good.😭 No wonder it passed down to me (Pisces sun/venus/uranus).💗

• Water risings have such a chill, affectionate nature it’s really cute!!😩💞

• Capricorn placements are so hot and attractive for what?😭

• Aries suns with Virgo moons and Aries mercuries are so feisty and cute!! They’re very driven, humble and get so excited when talking about their passions!! 🤎

• Aries sun-Taurus venus men are the types to be into sports and music! Some of them love 70s music and might be into James Brown!😂💞

• We all need a funny, blunt, energetic Sagittarius venus in our lives!

• Taurus sun-Gemini venus men culture is playing video games 24/7 and saying funny things to try to make their crush laugh.

• No because I can assure you a Fire mercury/mercury in a fire degree, will always add in their 2 cents even if you didn’t ask.🤣

• Some Cancer risings with Leo moons might feel fulfilled when those closest to them start telling them they’re starting to mature more and they’re proud of them.

• Virgo moons with Aries mars and Cancer risings WILL call you out on some petty shit. They don’t like to hold stuff in.

• Christian Leo suns 🤝 trying to justify their actions with “but in the Bible it says’ every time they get into a conflict yet they’re being hypocrites themselves.😭

• One thing Air placements will do is try to talk/sneak themselves out of situations.🌚 “They used to pull me over and ask me out on dates.” Said by La Toya Jackson (Gemini sun/mercury and Aquarius moon/mars)

• Aries mercuries can be so passive aggressive lmao.😭

• Capricorn mercuries can also be clowns with their logical humors!😭

• You better believe an Aries mercury/rising is going to raise their tones if they feel like your not getting their points.

• Virgo moons hate lying and hate liars.

• Parents with Water/Earth in their charts especially in their big 3 don’t like to hit their children.

• Sagittarius moons will listen to what you have to say then add onto them in a slight philosophical sense.

• Virgo suns with Libra mercuries and Leo mars love talking about people’s outfits and mocking other people.😭

• Fire mars parents are the types to embarrass their kids in front of other people by arguing with them/calling them out on the smallest things while Water mars parents are the types to embarrass their kids around their friends by being too bold and sometimes friendly sometimes mean lol.😭

• Water/Earth mix in the big 3 to love animals and nature! My mom’s a Scorpio sun/Cancer rising/Virgo moon and she’s obsessed with cats lmfao!🤣

• Capricorn/10H placements and their good/hard-working reputations are so attractive!

• Virgo placements are normally the health nuts and might complain about the back of their knee hurting this week and their stomachs hurting when they’re full the next. 😭

[whoreforred]

Intoxicated Confessions

Summary: Tony threw a party for Sam's birthday, but Natasha was out of town on a mission.

Warnings: None. Fluff :)

AN: This has been sitting for a while and kind of sorta is a part 2 for Needs. I can't help myself with the fwb trope. But this is a precursor to something more spicy if I ever get around to writing it

Tony threw parties like no one else. It became even more apparent when you became an Avenger. Sometimes it was every other week that the lounge would be decked out from floor to ceiling in extravagant decor, as if there was something to celebrate. Most of the time there wasn't. But living the lifestyle of an Avenger meant stress. Lots of stress. So hardly no one complained about the frequency of such vivacious events. It was nice to let loose. This week though, it was Sam's birthday.

You would show up to the parties typically later than your coworkers; giving them a chance to loosen up before you made your appearance. You always hated the awkward conversations that you found yourself in when everyone was still sober and finding who they wanted to go home with that night.

Lucky for you, you knew who you would be in bed with. You and Natasha found yourselves slipping out of the party early on more than one occasion - trading the loud atmosphere for one that was more intimate.

But tonight wasn't one of those nights. Of course, Natasha had to be given a last minute assignment earlier in the week. She shared in confidence her annoyance at the abrupt change of schedule.

"Why is it always me who suddenly has to get on a Quinjet to fly to the middle of nowhere? No one else can hack a damn computer?" She gruffed as she moved around her room to pack her mission bag.

"No one else is as good as you, Nat" you replied with a small smile, attempting to change the tone of the conversation.

Natasha didn't reply right away as she stuffed her duffel bag tightly and zipped it shut. She turned towards you and said, "You know I was actually looking forward to the party. It's Sam's first birthday with us." She turned back towards her bag making sure it was closed all the way. She began again, "Plus I like watching you drunkenly pretend you're not staring at my ass." She let out a small giggle and looked over her shoulder at you. You smiled and felt your cheeks get warm.

"It's an easy mission, right? You might make it back in time."

"Maybe. We'll see."

So here you are. Perched on a bar stool stirring your drink around like it was a game. The ice clinked against the glass, over and over. The chance that Natasha would be here before the party ended dwindled. You were sure she was out there kicking ass, while you lazily sipped your vodka. You thought the situation was backwards. She should be the one relaxing, not you. Suddenly someone grabbed your shoulder.

"Hey Y/N, why don't you stop pouting and come hangout with the rest of us?" Wanda teased.

You raised an eyebrow and threw back the rest of your drink before saying, "I wasn't pouting, for your information." You began to stand up to follow Wanda.

"Whatever you say", she threw her hands up in mock surrender, "help me grab some drinks before we head over there."

You helped Wanda bring over the drinks to your friends who were sitting on various couches and chairs, each engaging in several conversations at once. The chatter stopped once they saw you holding the booze they requested.

Thor quickly grabbed two out of your hands and mumbled a thanks before relaxing back down. You offered Sam one and sat on an open chair to join the conversation.

Hours, and many drinks later, the night had come to an end.

Natasha slung her duffel bag over her shoulder as she approached the elevator. It was almost five in the morning and she couldn't wait to get in her bed. She pressed the button for the lobby and sighed as she let her body relax a little. She wondered how the party went and quickly pulled out her phone to check her text messages. Part of her was hoping to see a text from you, but instead she got one from Wanda from earlier in the night. A selfie with you to her side, sticking your tongue out, and Sam further back making a face at you.

Natasha smiled to herself then put her phone away. She stepped into the elevator and kicked herself for missing out. She would have to get the recap from you tomorrow. Surely you would be sleeping.

She walked down the hallway to her room but stilled briefly when she realized her door was slightly ajar with the lights on. She slowly creeped up and pushed the door open more, not sure what to find on the other side.

Her eyes quickly locked onto the figure sprawled out in all directions on her bed. You. And atop your head you were a sporting a party hat that belonged to Sam.

She dropped her bags and couldn't help the way her lips curled up into a smile. You had come to wait for her, but fell asleep in the process.

She walked over to rub your back and found your phone laid a few inches away from your hand. The screen was still on and upon further examination she realized it was open to your text messages, with one in the process of being written out.

'Miss ur face nat. Im drink. I mis yo'

The half written message made Natasha giggle a bit before pushing your body over to make room for herself. At that you began to stir, the party hat slowly dropping over your eyes. You pushed it out of the way and squinted to adjust to the light. Once your eyes caught glimpse of the red hair you immediately began to crawl to rest your head in her lap.

Natasha whispered a "hello" and you looked up at her, still clearly intoxicated, and mumbled something that sounded like "wanted to wait for you".

She took a second to study the way your hair fell around your face, then locked eyes with you again when she saw your mouth open to speak again.

"Can I stay in here?" You said slowly. She pulled you closer and replied "of course". You buried your head in her neck and began to feel the arms of sleep take over you again.

Natasha stroked your arm while fighting with herself internally. Natasha knew there was something more between you two than sex. And she had known it for awhile. But she agreed to keep things strictly sexual. There was no room for anything more complicated than that in your line of work. She had never been with anybody like that. How would it work? What if you didn't want to pursue something like that in the first place?

She turned off the lamp you had left on earlier and let her eyelids flutter shut. She needed to tell you how she really felt, soon.

[roses-for-rosalyn]

what if abby's father and the reader's father were friends and the like to hangout and play tennis a lot ; one day jerry anderson tries to convince his daughter to play a game with him, his friend and his daughter (reader) who has just returned home after two years of travelling ;

both girls accept their father's invitation! then the big day arrives and abby finds herself in front of reader in her pretty tennis set (and maybe something could happen in the locker room, after a heated match 👀)

I'm baaaack!

Sorry this took me so incredibly long it's been a weird few weeks. I hope I did your idea justice, she's a long one.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: enemies to lovers, mean, competitive Abby, thigh riding, fem! reader, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r! receiving), overstimulation, dirty talk, modern au where Abby's dad isn't dead obvi, no use of y/n

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

You were sitting at your kitchen counter sipping on a glass of ice water and gazing out the window, watching the summer breeze rattle the trees. It had been a few weeks since you’d gotten back from Europe, but ice still felt like a luxury. Europe was so beautiful and you wouldn’t trade it for anything, but after a few years you started to yearn for air conditioning, cold water and disgusting greasy fried food. Your first bite of a McChicken back in the states was orgasmic. 

You also missed your family, your dad would call you every other day and talk about his day in incredible detail. He joined a country club and got into tennis while you were gone, he even made a few friends. You were especially happy about that because you were worried about him getting lonely while you were gone. You didn’t want him rotting in an empty house while you went out and traveled the world. Even though your dad’s days were mundane and repetitive you just liked listening to him talk. His voice was the only thing that could dull the feeling of homesickness. 

The front door opening pulls you out of your thoughts. Your dad walks in clearly having just got back from the country club, he was dressed head to toe in tennis gear including a visor. You can’t help but giggle at how stupid and preppy he looks. You didn’t exactly grow up going to country clubs, and dressing in brand name clothes. Luckily your dad had gotten a new job so he could splurge on himself. It made you happy to watch him treat himself for the first time in his life. 

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He looks up and down checking his clothes for stains or any wardrobe malfunctions. 

“Nothing, you just look a little funny dressed in your tennis uniform. Not exactly used to you in country club attire.” You smile as he acts mock offended. 

“I think it suits me, thank you very much.” He dramatically marches over to the fridge to fill up his water bottle. He’s really not gonna let go of this.

“You’re right, you were born to wear exclusively Vineyard Vines and sip wine on the balcony of your third beach house.” You say with a smirk. 

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” He smiles and leans on the counter across from you. 

He hesitates before saying “I’ve been meaning to invite you to play with me and Jerry, I think you’d have fun, it’ll be like the good old days on your high school tennis team. You’d probably deeply humble both of us.” Jerry was your dad’s best friend right now, one of the first people that welcomed him into the country club. 

“Dad, I haven’t played tennis in three years I don’t kn-” 

“Jerry said he’d bring his daughter too. She also used to play a lot of sports in high school. We could do father daughter teams or daughters vs fathers. It’ll be fun.” He sounds so excited, you would feel way too guilty turning him down at this point. 

“Ok, ok. Have you met his daughter? Is she like.. Nice?” You didn’t want to have to fake getting along with her for your dad’s sake, if you were being honest you would probably end up doing that anyway. Your dad wasn’t exactly good at finding you friends. 

“Yes, she’s incredibly nice, and respectful. She’s a few years older than you, about 25 I think, and she works for a construction company.” He pauses trying to recollect the little information he knows about his friend’s daughter. “She’s so strong I’m pretty sure she could pick me up bridal style.” Your dad laughs at his own joke, but now you are a little nervous. It’s starting to sink in that your dad essentially set up a playdate for you with an incredibly buff woman. You just hope you don’t end up noticeably ogling at her, maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll be incredibly mean.   

You woke up bright and early the next morning, your dad bribed you with a fancy breakfast before the match. The food was delicious, but you couldn’t stop your nervous movements, constantly tapping your fingers or feet. Your dad noticed and reassured you there was no reason to be nervous, and that there’s no pressure. To be honest your nerves weren’t completely because you were out of practice. Meeting new people always made you anxious, especially when it was arranged like this. There was an unspoken expectation for everyone to get along and enjoy themselves and you liked to keep your expectations low. 

Before you knew it you and your dad were walking to the tennis courts. Your dad noticed you were starting to get all up in your head.

“Hey, loosen up kiddo this will be fun, if it’s not you let me know and we can leave. I’ll just tell them I’m not feeling well and we can get ice cream. Jerry will understand.” He messes with your hair a bit and you feel mildly relieved. 

Once you get to the tennis court all of the relief you felt drained from your body, immediately replaced with pure anxiety. As you walk onto the smooth green court you see a middle aged brunette man, no doubt that was Jerry, and a tall strong blonde standing next to him. She towered over him, every muscle chiseled to perfection by what must have been some higher power. As you got closer you could see her biceps straining against her blue t-shirt, her thighs were barely visible, but from what you could see they were just as muscular as her arms. You were beginning to ogle when you’re snapped out of it from the sound of your dad greeting Jerry. Your dad shakes hands with Jerry and Abby and you begin to do the same. Abby’s blue eyes pierced right through you, a neutral expression adorning her face. She was incredibly intimidating considering she could clearly snap you in two. You shake Jerry’s hand “I’ve heard so much about you, hope you still remember your stuff from high school. Your dad and I have gotten pretty good.” 

You smile and reply “It’s been a while, but I’m sure I’ll warm up in no time!” You liked to stay humble, but honestly you were pretty good at tennis. You had won a lot of games and you were one of the best on the team. You didn’t talk about it much though because you were self aware enough to know literally no one cares about tennis. You were also as a result extremely competitive so you were hoping you would be able to tone it down in order to not scare your dad’s friend away. 

You move to shake Abby’s hand “I’m Abby, nice to finally meet you.” From her tone you would have assumed she thought it was indeed not very nice to meet you. But you nod and smile as her calloused hand engulfs yours. You can’t help but notice how warm her skin is to the touch and how large her hands are. 

She was incredibly attractive. 

“Alrighty you guys ready for an ass whoopin?” Jerry jests. 

“You bet.” Your dad replies. 

You and your dad make your way to the other side of the net and get into your ready positions. Abby serves the ball first and her swing was strong, but it was no match for your speed. You quickly learned the harder Abby hit the ball the louder she would grunt, so naturally you attempted to rile her up further. You would smirk arrogantly at her every time you and your dad gained a point, and take an extra long time getting ready to serve on the rare occasion she and Jerry would score a point. You and your dad rack up points quickly and the blonde was growing visibly frustrated. She was starting to hit the ball even harder, her jaw was clenched and her expression was so serious. It was adorable. 

Eventually Jerry calls for a break and sits on one of the benches with you dad, leaving you to sit with Abby. Alone. 

You sit down next to her on the wooden bench and start sipping from your water bottle. She does the same and you sit in silence for a bit. You notice the sweat on her brow and how her shirt is starting to stick to her skin. You can almost make out her abdominal muscles through the thin blue fabric. 

“I’m not usually this bad at sports, not used to losing.” Abby says, looking straight ahead. You can’t help but smile at her discontent, she seems just as competitive as you.

“I’m sure your strong muscles get you pretty far in most sports, but apparently tennis is not one of them, especially when you're up against an expert like me.” You say trying to joke around to lighten her mood.

“I wouldn’t classify a varsity tennis player as an expert, but okay.” She says with a smug look, still not facing you. She definitely did not understand your humor. 

“Clearly enough of an expert to beat you.” You shoot back. Abby grows silent and continues to sip her water. 

You sit in silence while your dad chats with Jerry, giving up on trying to make conversation with Abby. Eventually Jerry and your father stand up ready to finish the game. You and your dad beat them miserably. The game only ended because the sun started to go down, the country club quickly emptying out for the day. 

Your dad and Jerry suggest you all get washed up in the locker rooms before leaving. They walk away from the tennis court side by side talking and laughing while you and Abby walk behind them in almost total silence. Once the group reaches the locker rooms the two dads turn to you and Abby. 

“Would it be ok if me and Jerry grab a drink together? Abby can take you home in Jerry’s car.” The absolute last thing you wanted was to be stuck in a small car with this mean blonde, but you smiled and nodded. 

“See you later kiddo.” Your dad smiles and tussles your hair before walking into the locker room. 

You walk into the locker room as well, planning to just keep your distance from Abby for as long as you could until you were stuck with her in a tiny car. You can hear her heavy footsteps follow behind you and you quickly put your bag down, grab a towel and walk towards the showers to avoid facing her. You walk into one of the stalls and turn on the shower. The warm water helps to calm you down and soothes you. You lather on the soap massaging your muscles to relieve any soreness or tension, making sure you washed all the sweat away from the match. Unfortunately you have to be quick because you don’t want to make Abby any more annoyed than she was. 

As you step out and begin to dry yourself off you realized you forgot your change of clothes. 

Fuck.

You wrap the towel around you tightly and make your way to the lockers. Abby is sitting on the bench in the middle lacing up her shoes. Thank god she was looking down. You scramble over to your bag and grab your clothes out. You turn to head back to the showers to change in peace but Abby’s voice stops you.

“You took fucking forever.” She’s not looking at you, which you have observed to be a habit of hers. 

“Didn’t want to stink up your car. Is that ok with you?” Abby scoffs, but says nothing in response. 

“Seriously what the fuck did I do to you?” You blurt out, exasperated. You’re not usually this confrontational, but you felt like you deserved an answer. “I have barely had a conversation with you and for some reason you seem to have a problem with me or something.” 

Abby stands up angrily to face you and you had almost forgotten you were wearing a towel until she looked at you up and down with wide eyes. “You weren’t even gonna get dressed before asking me that question?” She sounds genuinely pissed off. Was everything you did an inconvenience? 

“Doesn’t matter, just answer it.” You look her straight in the eyes, challenging her. 

“Fine. You really wanna know?” You nod “I barely had a conversation with you and I could tell you were a brat.” As she’s talking she starts walking towards you, you didn’t even realize you were backing away until you felt the cool metal lockers against your skin. “You have an attitude problem, you know that? You don’t know when to shut the fuck up” She’s close, too close, she’s looking directly down at you daring you to respond. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You were the one who started being rude to me.” You refuse to break eye contact with her, trying to intimidate her from your height was ineffective, she wasn’t backing down. “What are you gonna do?” You ask boldly, tilting your head inviting her to answer. “Teach me a lesson? We both know you’re not gonna do anything, so just let me get dressed so I can get home and never see you again.” She doesn’t respond, the only sound was you and Abby’s synchronized breaths as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes. Her stare somehow made you feel more naked than you already were, making you overly aware of the fact that you were wearing a towel that was starting to slip down. 

“You have no idea what you’re asking for sweetheart.” She says almost breathlessly. The anger in her eyes quickly turns into a hunger when she looks down at your towel slowly slipping off your body. You’re holding on to the towel for dear life. 

“Fuck.” Abby says breathlessly before doing the absolute last thing you could have expected. She kisses you. Hard. 

You let out a surprised squeak and quickly back away, both of your chests heaving. You look in her eyes and see a desperation and hunger that’s almost scary, but for some reason you kiss her back. Abby melts into you and threads her fingers into your hair. You place your hands gently against her chest as she pushes you further against the lockers with her strong body. Her hands slowly travel down to the towel barely maintaining your dignity. She gently pries your hands from the soft material and rips it off throwing it across the room, keeping her lips on yours the entire time. You barely notice the cool air against your bare skin, she is so close to you you can feel her body heat radiate through her clothing. 

Abby uses her foot to move yours outward, spreading your legs enough for her to slot her thigh between them. You moan into her mouth the moment her strong thigh makes contact with your bare cunt. You start slowly writhing against her, trying to relive the ache that was growing in your center. Abby breaks away and looks down at you desperately grinding on her thigh. “You’re already so wet for me sweetheart. Barely had to do anything.” She smiles smugly as she watches you become a moaning mess, her thigh creating a perfect pressure against your clit. 

Abby starts kissing you down your neck, occasionally sucking on the sensitive skin, the feeling of her rough tongue causing you to whimper. She begins circling her fingers around your nipples, teasing them, before pinching them and rolling them between her fingers. You begin to move faster against her thigh and the pleasure in your belly begins to build. Your moaning starts to become louder as you begin to reach your high. Abby notices and moves her thigh further against you, putting even more pressure on your sensitive bud. “You close baby?” You nod and whine, desperate for any kind of release. You start moving faster against Abby’s thigh and your pleasure quickly hits its peak. It comes crashing against you in overwhelming waves, forcing loud moans from your lips. Abby eventually puts her leg down and backs away slightly, before kneeling in front of you. Before you can ask any questions she grabs one of your legs, hooks it around her shoulder and licks a stripe up your soaking cunt. You hiss through your teeth, sensitive from your first orgasm. She begins teasing your clit with her tongue and you have to thread your fingers into her hair for something to hold on to. 

You barely manage to whimper out, “Abs-fuck- I-I’m too sen-senitive.” 

She stops for a second and looks up at you. The sight of her kneeling between your legs is nearly enough to have you coming again. “You can take it baby, gonna make you come until you can’t give me that attitude anymore.” And with that she starts lapping at your cunt once again. She sucks your clit into her mouth, her tongue circling your sensitive bud. You let out a surprised whine, your chest heaving from the intense sensation. Abby’s hands grab hold of your hips, bring you closer to her mouth. 

You can feel another orgasm building as Abby rubs her thumbs in circles against your skin. You begin uncontrollably writhing against her tongue, but Abby quickly uses her grip on your hips to pin you firmly against the lockers forcing you to remain still. The action caused your pleasure to bubble over. “Abby-”, you whine out “-ffuck-fuck.” 

She keeps assaulting your clit through your orgasm, not slowing down. As you begin to come down, you become sensitive again and try to wriggle away from her. She pins your hips against the lockers and looks up at you with a stern look in her eyes. She wasn’t going to stop until you couldn’t even hold yourself up. 

She shoves two fingers inside of you causing you to gasp at the sudden intrusion. Her digits slid in easily, your arousal now dripping down your thighs. She curls her fingers forward causing you to have to bite your lip to keep from screaming. 

“Don’t you fucking dare bite your lip I want everyone to be able to hear you screaming for me sweetheart.” You clench around her thick fingers at her words and Abby takes that as a sign to keep talking. “You’re taking me so well princess. Think I can add another finger?” You nod eagerly at her in response. “Use your words baby.”

“Y-yes pl-please yes.” With your pathetic reply she adds another finger, filling you to the brim. She fucks you at a steady pace occasionally looking up at you to watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. She begins sucking hard on your clit causing you to let out a pornographic moan. She speeds up her fingers, hitting your g-spot with each thrust. Little moans and whimpers were escaping your lips every time her fingers hit that spongy spot. Your walls began clenching around Abby’s fingers and she knew you were close. Your orgasm hit you quickly and caught you by surprise, your whole body feeling the most intense pleasure you’ve ever felt. You’re not even sure what noises you were making or what you were saying, the pleasure was so blinding all you could do was buck your hips into Abby’s mouth. You were being held up exclusively by Abby’s grip on your hips. She stands up and quickly scoops you up bridal style to sit you down on the bench. She helps you get dressed and you could barely protest, she reduced you to jello. Abby stands up and offers her hand to help you up. You oblige and as you stand up she says “Need you to teach me your tennis skills sometime.” Weirdly she’s smiling. 

You can’t help but smirk, “Yeah? Well it’s gonna cost you and I don’t take sexual favors as payment.” 

[sergeifyodorov]

WAIT . say more about the McDavid/Draisaitl/Matthews/Marner!! 👀

mcdavid for marner trade: connor mcdavid experiences The Horrors part 35273958 (toronto edition), leon draisaitl scores 70 goals, auston matthews is torn apart emotionally for the first 3 months and obviously trying to hide it before falling deeply and pathetically in love with cmd97, mitch marner is pictured on at least one occasion tarpless in shorts when it's clearly -30 outside

mcdavid for matthews trade: auston matthews realizes he actually hates winter so fucking much when he's in edmonton instead of the glorious metropolis of toronto ontario, connor mcdavid scores 70 goals, leon draisaitl is torn apart emotionally for the first 3 months and doing a really bad job of hiding it because his new 1C is a total bitch, mitch marner is pictured on at least one occasion feeding cmd97 a single strawberry

draisaitl for marner trade: leon draisaitl tells at least one toronto reporter to fuck off to his face and gets suspended 3 games for it, auston matthews scores 70 goals, connor mcdavid's smiles/60 rate stays roughly the same as it did in pre-mm16 years but his laughs/60 increases, mitch marner is pictured on at least one occasion sitting in another oiler's lap

draisaitl for matthews trade: connor mcdavid takes up wearing graphic tees and silkscreen see through mock turtlenecks, auston matthews scores 80 goals, leon draisaitl cries on the broadcast, mitch marner finally gets 100 goddamn points