#Plus its fun to read and see everyone having fun :)

[saint-starflicker]

I was surprised and confused when I heard that there's fanfiction-only readers, as in no contact with most of the source materials to read fanfiction of—I'm not disparaging that, because fanfiction is free and Millennials are seeing like a third or fourth "once-in-a-lifetime" economic recession in living memory, which is not what "once-in-a-lifetime" is supposed to mean, so I expect that the young'uns are probably even more always broke and even more broke. If you have fun reading fanfiction from the fandom of your friend who explained the source material via improv theater extemporaneous slam poetry reenactment summary and that (plus gifs of most dashboard-fillers' favorite moments) is your source...then, bless you. Your media literacy must be phenomenal and I mean that genuinely: if you can get into the fandom for a media and discuss or re-represent it with enough savvy to stay in the fandom, then I think either you're telepathic or the fandoms these days don't have as many canon purists. That's not a bad thing, that's just getting along with a different set of skills for a different context for a different pocket of society to be in than fandoms back in my day.

That said, reading a variety of prose can enrich your writing prose by mere exposure to it, and sometimes that means: book. Vocabulary, sentence length, or whatever other quirks might be notable from reading, are all things you can decide to avoid or adopt in your own writing. (I am not touching the explicitness of the human condition deepthemes in Real Literary Literature versus the instant-gratification entertainment, debate. I can deeptheme a David DeCoteau movie, I have and I would do it again.)

What I think is going unsaid in all the above comments—excellent discussion that I agree with—is that learning to read fiction with the evaluation of a fiction writer...is its own meta skill, though.

Even if you read a variety of original fiction, it could still be that you like "the writing" for flattering your worldview or having feelgood content or an action-packed plot structure rather than for "the writing" as in writing style. Being able to know that difference, and deconstruct the words themselves or the story itself, is another step that can really be a lot of fun.

And that evaluation can be done with fanfiction. I used to write fanfiction of television shows, now I write fanfiction of sung-through stage musicals. The form of the canon can have an influence on the writing, and the keener the awareness of that influence then the better for a writer to decide whether or not you're going to be limited by that influence. The same goes for mostly if not only reading fanfictions, and then having that influence writing fanfictions or original fictions. I think it's great that fandom subcultures now are comparatively more fun and relaxed than they've ever been—haven't had a Ms.Scribe type of thing recently anywhere, have we?—But I'll agree with what everyone above is saying when I say that I hope the fun of broadening horizons with variety, and getting empowered by honing a more specific and critical attention, won't be forgotten either. All of us are incrementally dying of time.

fascinating that when you tell people "you have to learn the rules to break them" when talking about drawing/painting etc everyone nods and agrees but the second you say "you have to read books if you want to write better" there's a horde of contrarians begging to be the wrongest people ever all of a sudden

[cleverxgirl]

The tyrannosaur watched from within the trees as everyone began to sing. She had observed their little gathering from afar. The dinosaur was originally drawn in by the smell of delectable treats but stopped midway. She couldn't tell why they were all sing and laughing, but she particularly care either. They were all having a good time, and that's all that mattered.

[todayisafridaynight]

would it be okay if u told me why u like aoki😭/gen😭😭😭😭BEEN TRYNA LIKE HIM FOR SO LONG I JUST CANTT but i love ur art so much so i still consume it otherwise lol

i liked tohru adachi in high school and tbh i think that alone is enough of an explanation for why i ended up liking aoki

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Surprised to see that you as a communist (and a lot of other communists too) seem to like disco elysium so much. doesn't the game make fun of communists a lot?

It does! Quite frequently and gleefully, in fact.

My blanket response to this type of question about most pieces of media would be that, in the words of Big Joel, "I am not a politics robot". My enjoyment of a piece of art is almost entirely orthogonal to how much its implicit or explicit worldview aligns with mine. And I think ultimately that's the way you end up having to approach media if you're a communist who plays videogames at all. Or reads fantasy books. Or watches anime. Or... you get the idea.

But in the case of Disco Elysium specifically I think the read that the game depicts communism just as negatively as all the other ideologies it criticizes is a quite shallow one. Ultimately we're being shown this world through a very communist lens. Like yeah the game has a lot of (usually pretty funny) jokes about firing squads and about "communism is about failure" and about pretentious overeducated college communists who do nothing but read theory and then do some leftist infighting about it, it doesn't shy away from the immoral actions of the revolutionary army, it depicts the dockworkers union as extremely shady and corrupt and basically a crime syndicate (although this depiction is way more nuanced if you actually take the time to dig deeper and talk to people about it), and generally doesn't shy away from pointing at the ugly parts of a variety of communist movements past and present. But, under all of that, the game's understanding of issues like class and poverty and crime and colonialism and imperialism and international conflict is ultimately rooted in a very marxist worldview.

I once saw someone say something along the lines of "everyone in this game talks like a communist regardless of political alignment", and while that's obviously an extremely hyperbolic statement, I do think there's a nugget of truth in it, the clearest example being Joyce Messier. Joyce is an ultraliberal, the furthest thing from a communist you're going to find in the DE universe. And yet, when she talks about the world she does so in very marxist terms, like in her famous "Capital has the ability to subsume all critiques into itself" quote. Like. You'd never catch a real libertarian expressing that idea Like That. And a lot of the more serious, in-depth political discussions in the game are similar.

Plus, ultimately... regardless of how much criticism the game piles on it, of all the ideologies it criticizes, communism is the only one which is not depicted as a completely lost cause. The communist vision quest ends on a quite hopeful note, unlike pretty much any other one, and the Union is ultimately shown as having tons of popular support because they're the only ones who have actually gotten shit done to somewhat improve the lives of the people of Martinaise. I have lots of thoughts about the way Evrart Claire and the Dockworkers union are depicted actually, but for the time being I'm just going to say that the read of "unions are corrupt and union leaders are greedy fat cats who only care about their personal gain", while not exactly lacking in textual support, is likewise an extremely shallow one.

[timperleyworldofwater]

hey so this is something i covered throughout my degree so i'm somewhat qualified to talk about it, plus i lived in austria (the bit that's in the Alps at that) for like a year. but to spell it out as simply as i can: it's not the geology we have a problem with. you are also not being accused of being a white supremacist here, and if you believe that is something you're being accused of, have a think about that. it's a fucking pervasive ideology that is much, much more than white hoods and nazi rallies. hopefully what i'm gonna talk about will help you understand that.

the Alps were vital to the Nazi Aesthetic because they symbolised a ""simpler way of life"" rooted in ""German tradition"" (read: white supremacy). the Nazis didn't really care as much about the actual agricultural traditions of the region which spanned throughout German, Austrian, Italian and Swiss territories, instead they kinda garbled together an aesthetic not dissimilar to the tradwife/homesteading shit we're seeing online today. they're pretty closely interlinked in fact, but that'll take another post to get into. after Austria was annexed, a decent portion of the Alps became Nazi territory, i.e. it was now for the ""German People"" only. invoking the Alps unprompted rings these alarm bells immediately!

plus (only really speaking for Austria here) the alpine villages are not as Untouched and Remote as you want to think. the state of Tirol has a pretty robust transport system (i know this having lived in Innsbruck, which had really good links to surrounding towns and villages outside the city). you also kinda forget you're in the Alps the longer you live there because you only know the mountains by their local names, like the Nordkette or Patscherkofel. it only really matters that they're the alps for tourism or like. geography and geological studies. it's just not important to people living in the (especially German and Austrian) Alps that they're in the Alps because it gets weird pretty fucking quickly if they talk about it a lot beyond basic geographical information. this is one reason out of many why it wouldn't work with DE's main themes, because almost everyone you talk to has something to say about Martinaise, but if it were a fictional alpine village near a state capital, i doubt that would still be true.

like this is what would happen if it was set in the alps: the young witch finds her neighbour's lost cat within 20 minutes of gameplay after asking around and finding it on a farm not too far from her house. you learn nothing about the place, you feel nothing for the characters. you have gained nothing. you might as well have logged on to the latest mmo slop game and beaten a bunch of 12 year olds over the same amount of time.

so anyway i would love to have a game like stardew valley with its fun mechanics and easy gameplay... but it's about a young venture capitalist who moves to the peak district trying to get planning permission for an outdoor activity centre on some farmland. the locals use it as a route for dog walking and hikes and the farmer who owns it isn't fucking budging.

was talking to my girlfriend about this and i think it's the "in the alps" part that makes the tweet so vile. like it is such a lethal dose of ideology it's really the tipping point between an eyerolling but unremarkable tweet and something that expresses a repellent worldview

[felassan]

David Gaider on Zevran, under a cut for length:

"I was going to skip over Zevran, honestly, as I felt like I didn't have a lot to tell in the way of stories about him... but I know he still has some (ardent) fans. Plus, on reflection, I thought maybe I DO have a few things to say. 😅 Sooo we'll see how this goes. Zevran came along much later in the DAO process, as we were trying to round out the cast of party members. Alistair and Morrigan were well underway (as "main" characters, they were concepted very early) and I'd just started to consider who our Rogue followers might be when... things changed, a bit. See, BioWare had released a game not long beforehand called Jade Empire. It had included some same-sex options in its romances - not obscured like the way Juhani's "romance" had been hinted at in KotOR, but explicit. To this day, I have no idea who on the Jade Empire team was behind it, or why. More to the point, the same-sex options had received a lot of attention and praise - almost universal praise, in fact. In 2005, everyone was just pleasantly surprised. And I don't recall if I went to James and asked about it or if he came to me to suggest DAO should include it. The latter, I think."

"You might ask "Aren't you gay, Dave? Weren't you already pushing for this?" And the answer to that is, emphatically, "no, not at all". It might seem odd looking through the lens of 2024, but there was no talk of 'representation' or 'diversity'. Not at any level where we were aware of it, anyhow. Today, fans argue about how MUCH representation to include and whether it's done well enough... the idea that, less than twenty years ago, it being included *at all* was very much in doubt feels so far away. But, back then, I'd always assumed my private life and my work in games would never meet. So I think it was James who brought it up, because I remember being startled. Pleasantly so, of course. Now I had to look at our two rogues and figure out how this would apply. I sketched out the female of the two (who was taken on by Sheryl Chee) and then looked at the male - he who became Zevran. I'd been reading about the CIA and one thing that stuck with me was how they'd (allegedly) recruit gay men as assassins because they rarely had familial ties. Zevran wasn't going to be gay (bisexuality wasn't a question of representation, but a cost-benefit compromise) but that was the inspiration."

"Then there was the question of how "flamboyantly" I was writing this character, whether that might be too stereotypical? I don't remember how it arose, but I had too many "flamboyant" friends to do anything other than double down. This character was gonna be Zorro the goddamn Gay Blade, that's what. So that's how Zevran happened. Fun, a bit nihilistic, maybe a bit too overtly flirty for today's audience but very confidently *sexual*. Everything I'm not, so I'll admit it was an interesting exploration to dig down and find that voice somewhere inside. He was the anti-Alistair, and I needed that. Casting him was difficult. Caroline always tried to go for authentic accents, when we could, but for some reason this was getting us nowhere. I think back, and I suspect it's because I hadn't yet learned the lesson to not use terms in casting descriptions I thought were universal... but were not. What do I mean by that? Well, there was one write-up that said "drow elf". Now, I know what a drow elf is. It wasn't even important to the description, but the director saw the word "elf", and you know what we got back? A Keebler elf. Like a leprachaun, high and sweet and cutsie. Can you imagine?"

"In this case, I think it was the use of the word "assassin". Combine that with the sorts of roles many Hispanic actors in LA probably are asked to play, and all the auditions we were getting were 150% dark, mean, and gritty. 🫠 So we widened the casting call a bit, and this led us to Jon Curry. I knew Jon wasn't Hispanic, but what I wasn't prepared for when I flew down to meet the DAO actors was that he's this extremely tall, extremely Nordic looking dude who just happened to do the most amazing Antonio Banderas impression. Watching THAT man channel Zevran was... more than a bit surreal. 😅 And he had fun with it. As soon as we gave him the go ahead to play the fun and flirtiness to the hilt, that's exactly what he did. Over the few days where we found Zevran's voice, it totally supplied me with something I could hold in my head when I went back to Edmonton and finished writing him. Zevran was funny enough that the fans liked him. The only part of the reception I thought odd was the occasional comment by a male player who felt "tricked" into having sex with Zevran. "You mean... that part where he invites you to his tent for a sensual massage?" "Yes! I was expecting a massage!" "He literally says the massage is sensual." "Well he wasn't clear enough!" This is where I first came to the conclusion that a certain number of our players just don't know how to people. And that maybe an adjustment to the way we approached the messaging (or massaging lol) of romance was in order. If I could go back, would I change anything? Maybe I'd remind the systems team Zevran should really be able to pick a lock. And maybe not allow him to die. We had no idea we'd need to import these choices into the future - we kinda thought DAO was "one and done". Not so much, as it turned out. 😁"

[source thread]

David Gaider: "there's something to be said about how Zevran flirted and even had sex with you because he thought that's all he had to offer... not just you, but anyone. And when he realized you wanted something deeper, suddenly he was on unsteady ground and it truly unsettled him. It was fun to explore." [source]

User: "So David - besides loving the fact that the third image you picked is a gay sex scene - what happened in DA2(DAE - come on) with Zevrans design?" David Gaider: "Check the ALT text. It wasn’t a custom sculpt, so that’s as close as they could get it. Which… was not close." [source]

User: "Just to make sure I fully understand: the director (was it the voice director?) saw the word "elf" and thought you were looking for someone high, sweet, and cutesie?" David Gaider: "Yeah, this was from back before we managed VO in-house. The voice director in this case just didn’t have an association with “elf” like some familiar with fantasy would." [source]

[ace-turned-confused]

seashells & sandcastles | dbf!joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

summary: weekend break in full swing, you spend the day “relaxing” with joel word count: 5,3k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied / wears a bikini & a dress / can swim, Joel picks up & carries reader but Joel = huge big strong man so he can carry anyone (fight me if you disagree), pet names, unspecified age gap, food & alcohol consumption, parents getting tipsy, smut, super duper explicit grinding (?), public fingering, unprotected p in v, come eating, creampie, dirty talk, spanking, pussy pronouns huzzah!, praise kink, size kink a/n: so........... sea spray was just a silly little oneshot that now has over 1k notes which is actually insane????? actually cried about that btw but anyways i cannot thank everyone enough for all the kind words 🥹 this follows on from where we left off, but could be read on its own :) big thanks to @morallyinept for helping me with some of the warnings 💗 idk how some of this got in here guys i swear and special thanks to my bestie for calling me a wizard and always screaming with me, love you so much 🕺🏻 not beta'd, have fun 😇

Drifting in and out of sleep just as the sun starts filtering through the curtains, the distant sound of rolling waves and the rich smell of the sea air floats through the window. In the back of your mind, you register the sturdy frame behind you, the arm draped over your waist, the heft pressed against your ass. With the sheet bundled up in your arms and barely covering you, the air in the room is stifling, even with the fan blowing — only you can’t blame the summer temperatures for the heat crawling under your bare skin and settling between your legs.

By the time you wake completely, the arm over you is held tight and the heft against you is hot and hard, poking into you. Your memory comes back to you and that's when you realise — you’ve slept with Joel Miller. You know, dad’s best friend Joel Miller. You’re not sure what good will come from this, but he’s still in your bed the morning after, so that must be a plus — right?

With steady breaths being puffed against your neck, you shift around and slowly grind yourself back into him, your eyes fluttering closed and quiet whimpers falling from your lips. His arm around you tightens even further, pulling you into him and he starts rutting against you, still sound asleep. Reaching between your legs, you drag your fingers through your folds, the inside of your thighs slippery and wet as you rub them together.

You reach behind your back and feel for him. You were rendered speechless seeing the size of him last night, air taken from your lungs at how impossibly full you were and he feels just the same now as you touch him for the first time — a fair gap between your fingers and thumb as you try to wrap your hand around his girth, beads of precome starting to pearl as you brush your thumb over his tip.

Joel keeps mindlessly grinding himself against you as you take a finger to your clit, drawing in tight, steady circles. You push yourself into him more forcefully, soft moans gradually getting louder. You could just finish the job yourself, but why do that when you could have Joel do it instead.

“Joel?” It comes out breathy, your voice still raspy from sleep. He doesn’t respond, and you pull your hand from between your legs to grip his hip behind you. You shake him as best you can, fingers digging into his skin and he murmurs.

“Joel.” Twisting your torso to look at him, you drag your hand up his side to shake him more vigorously — his eyes finally flit open and he grumbles a good morning.

“Need you, Joel.”

“Already got me, ‘m right here.”

He grinds himself into you one more time and pushes your leg up and away from him, revealing your glistening cunt to his eyes. He drags his fingers through you, coating his fingers before taking his cock in his hand, stroking your slick up and down his length.

“Barely woken up and you’re already all needy, huh? S’what happens when you get fucked real good.”

Guiding you with a hand on your hip, he pulls you back to press his cock against you, slipping himself between your folds. He moves your leg back into place, holding himself in the wet heat between your thighs and starts thrusting, the fat head of him just catching on your entrance but never pushing in. You gasp and clench around nothing, feeling painfully empty.

“You’re gonna come just like this.”

“Joel-“ 

“Don’t wanna hear any complaints. You be good and come for me like this, then maybe I’ll give you what you want and fuck you nice ‘n hard later. Understand?”

You whine back at him, eyes falling closed and he snakes a hand around you, holding two fingers on your clit and he stops moving.

“Understand?”

“Yes, yes I understand.” You nod frantically and he resumes his movements, fingers swirling round and round, cock dragging against you.

Just before you start unravelling, a loud knock sounds from your door and Joel slows his hips to an agonising pace.

“Hey kiddo, you up?” Your dad’s voice is muffled and you see the door handle start to turn.

“DON’T-“ You’re shouting back at him before you can even think. “I’m getting dressed, Dad! I’m, uh… I’m up.”

You pray your voice comes across more steady through the door than it sounded to your own ears. It was bad enough that you were nearly caught palming the bulge in Joel’s shorts the night before, but this…

The handle snaps back up and you glance around with a sigh of relief, really taking the two of you in for the first time this morning: bodies moulded to one another, damp and sticky with sweat, Joel’s throbbing cock sliding along your cunt, fingers pressed firmly into your clit, your thighs a mess of precome and slick that’s been dripping out of you since before you even woke up.

Tightening your jaw and breathing hard through your nose, you knock your head back into Joel’s to hold back a moan as you clench down again.

“Your mom and I are heading out, you wanna come?”

Joel actually snorts at that and you whip your head around to glare at him, his eyes dark and a sly smirk on his face.

“Um, no, thanks. I’ll stay here.”

“Okay, see you later. Looks like Joel must’ve headed out for a walk, will you let him know we’ve gone when you see him?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Alright, you have fun.”

His footsteps fade off, the front door closing with a click and Joel takes your jaw in his hand, pulling you to look at him. You can smell yourself on his fingers, and feel him leaving cold, wet fingerprints on your cheeks.

“You having fun?” Joel punches forward more forcefully this time, the tip of his cock knocking into your clit. Your mouth falls open at the feeling, nodding your head as best you can.

“Asked you a question,” he whispers to you, squeezing his fingers into you.

“Yes, Joel.” You smile elatedly and he huffs a laugh at you.

“You wanna come for me?”

“Oh, please, yes please.”

Letting go of your jaw, he presses his fingers into your clit again, gliding between your folds at a steady pace. What was sea air has been replaced with the smell of Joel and sex, his thick fingers and heavy cock and deep, gravelly voice are hurtling you to your end in record time.

“Never felt a pussy as drenched as this one. Bet I could slip right in her like it’s nothing.”

You’re still twisted around to watch him, and he pulls back to watch where he disappears into you, over and over again.

“Feels like heaven, baby. Looks like it too, fuck me.”

He snaps his hips into you repeatedly, taking your hand in his and replacing his fingers on your clit with your own, flicking them over the swollen bud.

“Come on sweetheart. Soon as you come I’m going right with you.”

And you do — thighs tightening around him and hips jerking, a high-pitched whine coming from the back of your throat. He holds your hand in place and comes after a few more thrusts, spilling into the tight space between your legs. You feel it pool between your folds, seeping down your thighs and he forces your fingers apart, coating your hand in his spend.

Lifting your hand to your face, he shoves both your own and his fingers into your mouth.

“I got to taste you, now you get to taste me.”

If you weren’t still trembling with aftershocks you might’ve come again from the sheer depravity of it all.

Joel pulls his hand from your mouth and turns you to face him, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy exchange of tongues and spit and his come.

“You okay?” Breaking away from you, he tugs the sheet up to wipe your mouth, followed by his own.

“Am I okay? Jesus, Joel.” You laugh and burrow your face into the pillow, completely fucked out and you haven’t even had breakfast.

He cradles the back of your head, planting a gentle kiss on your temple and you can feel him smiling into you.

“Go shower, we’re heading for the beach today, remember? Plus, your dad said to have fun, and I’m gonna make sure you do.”

He traces a hand down your body, pushing himself off the bed and stretching with a groan. You could easily drift off to sleep again, but spending the day alone with Joel, free from your parents? That’s better than any dream you could have.

-

Joel can’t remember the last time he had a break like this — summer sun, bottomless drinks, the serenity of the sea. It’s off-season and the beach isn’t too crowded. Lounging back in his fold-out chair, he watches — a father and son excavating trenches and building up sandy defence walls, a little girl carving patterns with the end of her spade, an elderly couple strolling hand in hand just where the water breaks, seagulls nip at each other over old sandwich crusts, and a handful of surfers are far out in the waves.

With the sea ahead of him and the mountains behind, he could easily get used to this: friendly faces, quiet chatter, and hearty laughter all around; peace and stillness as far as the eye can see — and then there’s you.

You haven’t sat down for longer than five minutes the whole time. Zig-zagging along where the water washes over your feet, you crouch down every few steps to dig around in the sand, collecting an array of shells, pebbles, and glass smoothed by the everlasting waves. You’ve already been back twice to empty your shorts pockets, only to venture out again to continue your search. Every so often you look back at him to flash a smile, hand in the sky to shield yourself from the sun.

On your third trip back to unload your findings you stand, hands on your hips to inspect your haul.

“What you gonna do with all this?” He asks as you finish scattering everything out on your towel.

“Dunno, I just like picking them up.” You take a pebble in hand, smoothing your fingers over its surface.

“And how you gettin’ it all home?”

You lift your head to look at him, perching your sunglasses on your head and squinting in the sun.

“Don’t your shorts have pockets too?” You grin and he shakes his head, turning his attention to his unopened book.

“You brought a book?” Your voice is laced with disbelief, and he draws his eyes back to you again.

“Didn’t come here just to drool over you all day, believe it or not.”

“I’m sure you could multitask. Come on, you’re seriously not gonna swim or anything?”

“And who’s gonna guard these ancient artifacts of yours? I’m sure there’s some real rare finds here, sweetheart.” He raises his eyebrows as he leans over to look at everything.

“‘Ancient artifacts’ my ass, it’s a heap of fucking rocks and glass Joel, come on.” You hold your hand out in waiting, scoffing when he doesn’t move to get up.

“Fine, if you’re not gonna come with me then at least put more sunscreen on my back.” You pull your shorts down, rounding the towel to stop before him.

As he starts to stand up, you drop down to your knees, eyes locked on his and a cheeky grin spreads across your face as you sink into the sand, head levelled perfectly with his crotch. You lean to the side, a hand planted on his covered thigh to steady yourself while you rummage through your bags, and all moral thoughts flee his mind.

“You’re real trouble, sweetheart.” You ignore his comment and stand, handing him the bottle and turning your back to him.

He starts below the nape of your neck and you jerk forward, muscles in your back tensing briefly from the stark cold sensation. Palms massaging between your shoulder blades, you soon relax and lean into his touch and he lifts each strap of your bikini top, letting them snap back against your skin once the area is covered.

Moving further down your back, he pushes his hands under the band of your bikini top, curling them around your body until his fingers brush against the supple skin of the sides of your breasts, your breath catching just so.

Leaning in close behind you, he lowers his voice right into your ear, “You just wanted my hands on you.”

He smirks to himself and withdraws his hands, dragging his palms down your sides and sneaking his fingers under your waistband, squeezing your soft, unsunned skin. Part of him wishes you were somewhere secluded, where he could just take them right off, but working you up and fogging your mind is far more rewarding.

Glancing around, the few other people on the beach are well occupied — he grips your hip with one hand and twists the other around to your front, dipping down to cup you entirely.

“Joel…” You say in warning, but he knows it’s an empty threat.

“What, you can tease me but I can’t do the same? Seems a little unfair, sweetheart.”

He applies pressure on your clit with the heel of his palm and you try angling your hips, chasing any relief you can find. Curling his fingers into your heat, he confirms his suspicions. 

“Thought this morning you were just bein’ needy, but this pussy’s always drooling for me, isn’t she?”

You whine at that, already sounding desperate and you push your head back against his chest.

“Please, Joel.”

“Please what? What you want, baby?”

“Want you.”

“Wrong answer.” He keeps his hand steady between your legs, fingers just prodding at your entrance and you try to press your thighs together. “Tell me what you want.”

“I…” Your voice trails off to near silence before you can get the words out, and you turn your head to the side, trying to burrow yourself into him.

“Don’t waste my time, sweetheart. Either tell me, or you’re gettin’ nothing at all.”

“Want your fingers. Please Joel, wanna come on your fingers.”

“Good girl, that wasn't so hard.”

Finally pushing two fingers into you, you’re already pulsing around him. Your mouth hangs open, a strained moan slipping out.

“Only doing this if you keep quiet, or this whole beach is gonna know I’m knuckle deep in this tight cunt.”

You whine again but close your mouth and nod. It seems you really are trying your best to be good — either that or you’re so desperate you’ll do anything. Joel keeps watch of your surroundings, knowing you won’t keep your eyes open — or stay alert — long enough to do it yourself.

Pumping his fingers in and out, in and out, you’re sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, hands gripping his arms to keep yourself upright, small whimpers sounding from the back of your throat. He can feel how close you are, walls fluttering around him, but you’re tense, maybe unable to let go in fear of being caught.

He’s a fast learner, though, and already knows that his words alone are enough to give you that final push.

“Nobody’s gonna see you, sweetheart, been keepin’ watch the whole time. You been such a good girl for me, keepin’ so quiet.”

You clench around him more forcefully — he knows he’s heading in the right direction and curls his fingers into you, pressing that same delicious spot he found so easily the night before.

“That feel good? Know my fingers are so much bigger than your own. Bet it’s not as nice as my cock, though, huh? Had you completely stretched out, took me so well.”

Your chest is heaving as you hold yourself back, thighs trembling and he knows you’re impossibly close.

“You’ve been so good for me, ‘m gonna fill you up again tonight — I’m gonna fuck ya nice ‘n hard, just like I promised. You can be as loud as you want, wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make.”

That does it. Nails digging into his skin, you cross your knees and squeeze your thighs tightly, face screwed up as you come around him and soak your bottoms. He keeps whispering praises to you, pulling his sticky fingers from you when you still and lean your weight against him. Wrapping his arms around you, he holds you upright until you’re ready to stand by yourself.

When he notices you’re sound of mind again, he turns you in his arms, hands resting on your waist.

“How ‘bout that swim you wanted?”

You huff through your nose, a small smile on your face as you throw your head forward, knocking into his chest. He bends his knees as he tightens his grip on you, lifting you up and practically throwing you over his shoulder. You shriek with laughter, your fists landing in playful punches on his back and feet kicking in the air as he marches towards the water.

Placing you down on your feet again, he doesn’t give you time to scold him and seals his mouth to yours, one hand pulling you into him by the small of your back, the other cradling your cheek. For the first time, he notices how the softness of your skin elsewhere carries over into your lips, and you hang your arms over his shoulders, fingers threading gently through his curls. Considering all the time he’s spent with you has been frankly pornographic, this kiss in contrast is surprisingly pure.

Pulling back from you, your eyes are warm as you stare up at him. Taking a hand in his, he laces your fingers together and starts walking, pulling you into the gentle waves.

-

After your… escapades on the beach, you and Joel spent the afternoon winding your way through town — perusing all the tucked-away shops filled with antiques and random nick-nacks, stopping for ice cream, Joel taking your photo for you to send to friends. You insisted on taking one of him too, promising you’d be the only one to see it.

He’s been casually handsy since you left the beach — crossing the street hand in hand, guiding you by the small of your back, that same hand drifting down to rest on your backside.

A few repulsed glances were shot in your direction whenever he had his hands on you for too long, and rather than back off, he only made it more obvious — pulling your body into his, his hands groping the nearest stretch of skin, a kiss lasting far too long to be publicly decent. With a constant smirk on his face, you reckon he was rather proud of himself for getting you flustered and pissing off the townsfolk even further.

It’s almost disconcerting how easy things are. You’re not used to feeling so laid back, not worrying about making a fool of yourself, not caring about the looks you’ve been getting. 

You’re making your way down a quiet side street when Joel’s phone rings from his pocket.

“Hello?”

He shifts his weight to one leg, a hand on his hip with his lax knee popping out to the side.

“Yeah, we’re just walking through town.” He looks at you, mischief in his eyes as the corner of his mouth lifts in a skew smile.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll see you soon.”

Joel says his goodbyes, dropping his phone back into his pocket. Taking his place by your side again, he drapes an arm around your shoulders as you resume your journey.

“So?” You look up at him, face framed beautifully by the late afternoon sun — skin glowing, curls tousled by the salty air, eyes crinkling at the corners as he turns to look down at you.

“Was your dad — he just wanted to know where we were.” His grin only spreads wider as you make your way down the street. “He told me I didn’t have to do all this, that you’re a big girl who doesn’t need to be taken care of. Said I should take some time for myself, relax a little.”

You realise then that, much to your annoyance, your dad does have a point — Joel hasn’t relaxed at all, he’s spent almost every hour together with you. Not to mention he’s barely seen your dad, the man who invited him to begin with.

“Oh… I mean, he is right. I’m sure you came here for a nice break, and you haven’t actually had a moment on your own.”

“Sweetheart, this is the most relaxed I’ve been in years, thanks to you.” He plants a kiss to the top of your head and you feel warm at his words.

“I just thought it’s funny what your old man said about you — that’s the one thing you do need, right baby? Just need someone to take care of ya.”

You’re scared to admit it, but Joel really has taken care of you — in more ways than one. You decide not to fret about what’ll happen after this weekend — you can still enjoy the rest of your time here and whatever Joel has in store for after dark.

-

Upon arriving home, your dad had asked what you and Joel got up to — Joel stayed tight-lipped and you managed to keep your voice level as you recounted the day’s happenings, minus the obscenities. Your dad mentioned that he and your mom had also gone into town, curious that they didn’t bump into you — you’d brushed it off as just missing each other, and thank God for that.

With all the concerned looks you’d received throughout the afternoon, it never crossed your mind that they could’ve come from your own parents, too. You’ve had two close calls now and your luck is bound to run out at some point. You cringe at the thought of your dad finding out about this whole situation — his best friend sleeping with his daughter, his daughter sleeping with his best friend. You’re not sure which version would horrify him more.

You gave him a tight smile in an attempt to cut the conversation short, walking off to your room to avoid further interrogation.

You’d been looking forward to dinner though, but when Joel approached the table, he sat down across from you, leaving your mom to take up the chair next to you. You’d twitched your eyebrows in questioning, but all he gave you was a slight nod of his head.

You thought back to last night — with Joel sitting beside you, you’d tested him and in return, he fucked you better than anyone before. You were keen on trying to push him again, but the added obstacle of the extra distance tonight would’ve made it far more risky.

Throughout dinner he made sure your parents' glasses were never empty, sending you a wink and a slanted smile with each pour as they became more and more carefree, his free hand caressing your back every time he rounded the table.

You’re not usually one to back down from a challenge, especially now that Joel is involved, but you suspected you wouldn’t need to tease him anymore to get what you wanted.

With dinner over and your parents having blissfully stumbled to their room, you now find yourself pinned against the countertop with Joel mouthing kisses along your neck. You’d told your parents you would handle the dishes, but you doubt you’ll even get a start on that.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you didn’t try anything funny under the table tonight.” Joel’s hands roam all over you as he nuzzles up against your jaw.

“I thought about it, but someone made it rather difficult.”

“Yeah well, you were enough of a brat last night, ‘bout time you started behaving.”

“Seemed to me you rather liked it.”

You’re smiling to yourself when you feel his hand smack down on your ass and you yelp, your dress barely doing anything to soften the blow.

“Seems to me that you quite like bein’ punished. Now, I do enjoy puttin’ you in your place, but it’s nice when you’re a good girl and I can reward you instead. You’re all dressed up too, you put on this pretty dress for me?”

Gripping the counter’s edge, you drop your head as he lifts your dress around your waist and holds it against your back. He pushes himself into you until you’re flush with the cool granite top, held down underneath him. He smacks down again and you’ve already soaked through your panties.

“Don’t make me repeat myself, you should know this by now. Been good all night, don’t start actin’ up now.”

“Yes…” You’re met with silence, Joel unmoving on top of you — that wasn’t a good enough response. “I wore it for you.”

“Looks real nice, pretty dress for my pretty girl.” 

He lifts his chest off of you, pressing a hand between your shoulder blades as he stands. Trailing his hands down your back, he tightens his grip when reaching your hips again, grinding himself into your core. A small gasp falls from your lips and he chuckles as you try pressing your legs together.

He hooks a finger under the gusset of your panties and pulls them to one side, tracing over the lips of your pussy as gently as possible, kneading your ass to spread you open — that and the cool, late-night air coats his finger in a fresh wave of arousal.

“All weepin’ and I’ve barely touched her.”

You’re whining at his words, on the verge of begging him to do something, anything to relieve you. He pulls your panties off completely, dropping them to your ankles and he pulls loose the tie of his shorts.

“Joel?” You prop yourself up on your elbows, turning your head to look at him.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You alright?” He rests a hand on you, thumb drawing soft circles into the swell of your ass, concern in his eyes.

“Are we not, uh… not going to bed?”

His eyes turn almost black as all traces of worry fly out the window, lips parted as he ticks his jaw to the side.

“Had no problem with me finger fuckin’ you on the beach, but now you wanna hide away again? What, you scared your old man’s gonna open his door and see his little girl gettin’ railed within an inch of her life? And by his own best friend, of all people.”

That really shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, even more arousal seeping out of you and trickling down the inside of your thighs. Joel lays his fingers flat and wipes his hand up through you before slapping you hard and leaving a burning, sticky handprint on your ass — you buck your hips back into him, letting out a strangled moan.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His shorts rustle as he shifts them down his thighs, and he swipes his hand up your cunt a second time, spreading his fingers and coating them in slick. You can hear how he takes hold of his length, the room filled with your heavy breathing and the lewd sounds of Joel stroking himself with his sticky hand.

He just slips into you and grabs you by the upper arms to pull you up into his chest, your back arching. He grunts as he thrusts up into you and bottoms out in one swift motion, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you cry out, Joel taking up all empty space inside of you, your clit aching from lack of attention.

“You remember what I told you? Wanna hear what pretty noises you can make.” Joel pries your hand away, keeping it in his own as he takes hold of your hip, his other hand moving to your shoulder. “And before you argue, your parents ain’t wakin’ up any time soon baby — you saw ‘em heading off.”

He pulls out to his tip devastatingly slowly and knocks back into you, repeating the same rhythm over and over — you can feel every ridge, vein, and inch of him. Your eyes are pinched shut and your brow knitted, a choked moan sounding out from the back of your throat with each movement.

“Still just as tight as last night, even after bein’ stretched so wide.”

“Mmh, Joel…”

“Tell me what you want,” he mumbles into you, lips pressed into your skin.

“Please touch me, please Joel, wanna come.”

“Greedy, are we? Pussy’s stuffed full and she still wants more.” Taking half a step back, he pulls you away from the counter’s edge and removes his hand from your shoulder. “Askin’ so nicely though, really are bein’ such a good girl for me.”

He feels down between your legs and parts his fingers around where he splits you open, wetting them in your creamy slick that coats his cock before reaching around to your front and pressing them into your clit. Your hips jerk as he starts swirling his fingers, still withdrawing slowly and thrusting into you hard — you’re so worked up and sensitive that you’re coming already.

“Ohh, fuck, Joel!” you shout out, clamping down on him, your legs shaking as you struggle to keep yourself standing.

“Good girl, come on now, let it out.” He keeps the same pace in both hand and hips as he works you through it. You whine, face contorted and body writhing in pleasure.

Joe eventually stills inside you as you come down from your high, wrapping his arms around you to hold you against him. 

“You ever felt so good, sweetheart?”

“No.” You shake your head haphazardly, still breathless, but you want to see if you can drive him as crazy as he does you. “Never had a cock as big as yours, Joel. Never been so full.”

You feel him twitch inside of you and you break out into a wide grin.

Hand taking ahold of your shoulder once again and readjusting his grip on your hip, he starts slamming his hips into yours, the force of his movements jolting you forward as unabashed moans start falling from your mouth again.

“Never knew you had such a dirty mouth, baby. Definitely ruined this cunt for anyone else, nobody’s gonna make her come like I can. Stretched her so well that anyone else just ain’t gonna do the job.”

Last night was supposedly a punishment, Joel setting you straight after you’d teased him, but this? This feels like you’re being used, having Joel just take what he wants and God do you love it.

“Please come inside me, Joel — wanna be full of your come, want it dripping out of me while I fall asleep.”

It seems like your words work just as well as Joel’s — he pistons into you a handful of times before he erupts, groaning as he empties himself inside of you. He withdraws slightly just to push back in again, working himself even deeper into you, head falling to rest on your back as he folds on top of you.

His hands rub all over your body as he catches his breath, lazy kisses being dotted all over your back and neck. Pulling out of you, Joel grunts and you whimper at the feeling, he crouches down to pull your panties up off the floor, now ruined even further as you feel him start to leak out of you and soak into the already wet cotton.

He turns you to face him, hands cradling your head as he leans to kiss you, the same kind of kiss as earlier on the beach — not driven by lust or need but something real.

“Come on, now let’s go to bed.”

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[cronasluvr]

DIFFERENT.

rafe cameron x male reader

genre: smut

warnings: cursing, pet names, dirty-talk, penetration, smut, alcohol, drugs, noncon/dubcon, not proof-read

a/n: mb for the inconsistent posting T-T I didn’t have much motivation but I came up with this! also sorry if its not the best ;(

Rafe loved parties. He loved every aspect of them like the drinks, the drugs, but mostly the sex. Rafe enjoyed selling drugs to randoms and also getting drunk but sex would always top those things, he loved how he never had to stick with the same person and could fuck any girl he wanted. 

They always would be wrapped around his finger and Rafe would just leave them to fend for themselves after he was satisfied. He knew it was toxic but thats the only way he felt a sense of power, he wanted to be better than his dad so this would help him feel something and nothing could stop him. 

Rafe had a reputation of being the perfect kook; Rich, hot, and straight, so whenever any boys would try to pounce on him or tease him with sexual jokes he would decline right away and never look back.

His friend was hosting a party that started around sunset and of course Rafe was gonna be there, he just recently got new drugs so he was definitely excited for the money.  It had already been a while since the party had started and business was booming, the only downside was he hadn’t had much sex yet so it was getting a little boring. Rafe kept selling for a little while until he had enough, he was indeed of pussy right now.

You were doing homework until your phone started to ring, “M/n!!! It’s the weekend let’s go to Toppers Partttyy.” it was your bestfriend, “I have homework to do not today.” You said while continuing, “Cmonn you never go out and plus everyone’s gonna be there including Rafe Cameron.” they say the last part teasingly.

You never understood the hype of Rafe Cameron, yes you believed Rafe was handsome but thats it. You’d always questioned why girls would be all over him other than his looks. You knew Rafe sold  drugs so you would stay far from him just in case, but at the end of the day you decided that a break would be okay.

You sigh annoyingly “Okay fine whatever, pick me up in 20.” You heard your friend yelp in excitement, “See ya in 20!!” They hanged up. After that conversation you decided to get up and get ready, you decided to wear a basic tee and jorts with sandals. After a while your friend finally arrived, “Ready m/n??” They said excitedly, “I guess”. You both start making your way to Toppers house.

Rafe was halfway drunk by now and decided to snort another line. You arrived to the party and your friend decided to split up to get drinks. You were walking through the crowd and saw Rafe, he looked at you and you both made eye contact. He looked at you with hungry eyes but you look away and walk to the kitchen for drinks. 

At first you told yourself you wouldn’t get too drunk but now you’re here tripping and stumbling all over, you couldn’t find your friend so you decided to dance with the crowd. Rafe was fully gone at this point but then he decided to let some energy out and began to walk toward the crowd, as he approached the crowd he saw you dancing in the middle.

You were having the time of your life until you felt somebody press against your back, “Having fun m/n?” Rafe whispered in your ear, your face started to heat up and you turned around to meet his face. Inches apart you felt his breath against your lips and smelt the alcohol from his mouth, “G-good” you said with slurred words, “Thats good, just keep dancing” he says as he places his hands on your hips and starts making you grind on him. Your face starts heating up more but you continue to grind on him, “Just like that” he encourages, you both stay in that position for a little more till next thing you know hes pushing you against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

At this point you both are making out with each other and it felt so good, “M-mm!” you moan out as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He continues to fight with your tongue until he wins dominance and starts making you breathless. You pull away and look into his eyes in awe, “You taste so good baby”, he carries you into one of the bedrooms and lays you on the bed, “R-rafe, i n-need you”, you say looking at him with hungry eyes. 

You knew this was wrong but it felt so good, “here let’s get you naked” he moves his hand toward your top and starts remove it with your pants too. Your face turns even more red, “You look so cute like this” he looks at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, you move your hands toward his shirt and help him take it off. 

You trace your hands on his biceps in awe, “You like that?” He smirks and begins to kiss your neck, “M-mmm” you moan out. He stops at your nipples and starts sucking them, “R-rafe!” You moan even louder, “Sensitive huh?” He stares up at your face while biting your nipple, “f-fuck!” you bite your lip to contain your moans. 

He slurps them even more and your body jerks in pleasure, “M-more!” you beg as you move your hand to guide his head, he doesn’t listen and teases you while continuing to suck on your nipples while watching you squirm under him.

“o-oh my god!” you moan out while stopping his movements, “n-need your c-cock” you beg even more, “Whatever you need then baby” as he begins to start unzipping his pants and letting his cock free from his boxers. He lowers your pants down along with your underwear and spits on his head, “Let me just get this needy hole ready” he smirks and starts inserting one finger into your hole, “O-oh f-fuck” you moan while clenching the bed sheets. 

He adds more fingers until he gets to three and starts hitting your prostate, “Mmm so wet for me” he looks at you squirm even more under him, “I-Im close!!” you moan out as he quickly pulls all his fingers out, “Not yet baby”, you look up at him with teary eyes. Rafe began to slowly insert his cock into your gummy walls and you couldn’t hold back, “S-so big, s-so full!!” you loudly moan out, he began to start thrusting into you with a fast pace. 

You came undone onto your stomach but he continued, “You feel that baby its in your stomach” he moves even faster and leans in to start making out with you. You felt another high incoming and you started to scratch his back from the pleasure, “C-close daddy!!”, “Fuck m/n!”and with one final thrust you both come undone. “Mmm so warm”, he says while kissing your lips and still continuing to thrust slowly into your hole to ride his high out, you moan quietly and begin to lose consciousness. 

He looks up at your face and finds you sleeping, “we only had one round :[“ he says a little annoyed but decides to get up and clean you both. He didn’t understand why he just had sex with you, but it felt so right to him so he knew you were different.

The next day you felt warmth with his arms wrapped around your body, you turn to face him and see him sleeping peacefully, “what a cutie” as you peck his nose, falling back to sleep content.

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Steddie X Plus Size You)

"Don't be so hard on yourself The name of the game is humiliation, And thanks for your admiration. I never thought I'd say this: The way that we play has its confrontation, And guilt by association."

A/N: New version of these beings for me to try out. Thank you @bimbobaggins69 for the idea by just being amazing <3.

This take place 10 years after events in season 4 so about 1996.

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N (whew! That's a mouth full lol), SMUT, spanking, choking, degrading, voyeurism, use of sir, FLUFF, Eddie and Steve have an established relationship. ANGST (because I'm me), reader is plus size and gets name called by the jocks (they call her names like piggy), one of them does assault her (pushes her and yells at her; brief), Steddie saves the day, mentions of reader staring in a play that makes her anxious due to her body.

This whole dynamic is technically angsty (which is why I love it muahaha).

Word Count: 8679

“I fucking hate schools.”, you grumble under your breath as you hit snooze on your alarm for the fifth time that morning. The beginning of your junior year spring semester at Hawkins University started today but the idea of getting out of bed sounded exhausting. In Hawkins, everyone was in everyone else’s business and being the bigger girl some of the jocks felt the need to butt in more than anyone else. 

“Hey Y/N. Did you put on more weight this summer? Those jeans look like they’re about to pop!”

“Should you be eating that, piggy? Maybe try a salad every now and then.”

You thought when you left high school, you wouldn’t have to deal with this crap anymore but unfortunately some of it followed you to college. 

When you finally made it to your first class it was right before it began so you could avoid any unwanted conversation. You weren’t so lucky.

“Heeeeeeey, Y/N.”, football star Martin Click cooed obnoxiously as he leaned towards you from his seat above yours. “I was hoping we’d have some classes together, piggy. I missed you over the summer. You couldn’t bother to dress up for me?”

“Oh, sorry Martin, if I had known we would be sharing a class I would have made myself uglier but unfortunately for me that’s impossible since I’m so fucking sexy. Maybe you can tutor me on how to be a sloppy asshole.”

The breathy laugh that echoed to your ears caught you off guard as you glanced up towards the front of the classroom and met the chocolate eyes of your new Literature & Writing professor. 

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper as red paints your face.

“No, no. No reason to be sorry. I thought it was a good comeback.”, he grinned making you blush even more. “Mr. Click, should I tell Coach Harrington that you’re more focused on ladies attire than my class or are we going to behave this semester?”

Rolling his eyes, Martin leaned back in his chair making the professor smugly smirk as he winked in your direction. 

“As I’m sure ya’ll are aware, I’m professor Munson and if you’re here because of my reputation then I will kindly ask you to leave. I’m not here to talk about my past or my family history.”

You had heard rumors about Eddie Munson and of course knew all about him being on the run back when you were little. You parents never let you leave the house or play outside for fear that the “satanic Hawkins killer” would snatch you up and make you his next victim. As you grew up and read more about what happened, it seemed less to you like he did anything at all and obviously the chief agreed because Mr. Munson was never tried or did any prison time. 

No, you weren’t interested in his past. You were interested in the things he could teach you. After overhearing one of his lectures, you were fascinated with the way he told a story and explained the material. He got so animated to an adorable degree and as a theater major you thought it would be fun to see how he interpreted literature while getting the final English credit you needed. 

When no one moved he smiled and began talking about usual first day things such as the syllabus and what to expect over the semester. After the class had ended and everyone left, you stayed behind and quietly made your way to his desk. 

“Hey, um, I’m sorry if I was rude or—”

“I didn’t think you were rude. If anything, he was and definitely needed to be put in his place.”, he interrupted without looking your way as he sorted through papers in front of him. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yes, sir. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen some of the plays you were in on campus here. I dragged my friend to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream and you actually got him to pay attention.”, Mr. Munson smiled as he finally lifted his head to look your way. “You were very good.”

“Oh, um, thank you very much. That means a lot coming from you.” He tilts his head at your comment as blush fills your cheeks again. “I just meant I’ve seen some of your lectures before and you’re an amazing storyteller. You excite me, I mean you make me want to pay attention to, I mean… ok, let’s pretend I just left right after class and didn’t just embarrass myself.”

Hugging your books to your chest, you power walk out the door as his chuckle fills your ears. 

***

With a break between periods, you hastily headed for the gym after lunch to change and get out on to the track by the field. Contrary to popular belief, you were fairly athletic despite your size and enjoyed letting off steam as you pumped your legs as fast as they could take you.

As your music blared loudly in your ears, the feeling of eyes watching you grabbed your attention towards the bleachers where Coach Harrington was standing with his arms crossed and leaning to the side as Professor Munson balanced his arm on his shoulder, murmuring something to him as their eyes followed you. 

Trying to block them out, you continued to focus on the path in front of you but was blindsided when a football whizzed past your nose almost hitting you.

“Whoa! Sorry, piggy. Have to keep your eyes open around here.”, Martin laughs as you roll your eyes. 

Glancing their way, you noticed both men were standing straighter as if prepared to defend you if needed. You weren’t a weak little girl and for whatever reason you strongly felt like you needed to show them that. As you pick up the football one of the players lifts his hands running towards you as if expecting you to not be able to throw it but at the last minute you throw a perfect spiral to their coach who doesn’t even hesitate as he lifts his hands and catches it seamlessly from the air. 

“Well, shit, gentlemen. Looks like I have a new passer.”

“Oh, no thank you, Coach Harrington. If I ever played a sport it would be with a team that doesn’t suck.”

Again, Mr. Munson snicked through his teeth as the man he was leaning on flashed you a big grin. 

#############

That night you decided to run after hours, thinking you would be alone but were surprised when you saw Coach Harrington on the track. 

“Shit! Sorry, you scared the hell out of me.”, he nervously chuckled. 

“I’M sorry. I thought no one would be out here.”

“Yeah, normally there aren’t.”, he teased raising an eyebrow at you. “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

As he took off continuing to jog, you pushed your headphones on your head and started your run. After a couple of laps with you in your zone, your feet abruptly slipped out from under you as you tumbled forward onto the gravel.

“Whoa!”, Coach Harrington shouted in concern as he ran to your side and kneeled down. “Are you alright?”

“Ow. Yeah, I just…tripped. Fuck that hurt.”

“Let me see.” Without any hesitation, his hand gripped your leg and looked it over. “Oof, you may have a pretty good bruise there but you should be alright.” Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to you to help you up which you eagerly accepted while he gripped you tightly and led you towards the bleachers. “You must have been deep in thought because you passed me a couple of times and didn’t even turn your head.”

“I did? Yeah, I’m sorry. I just have some things on my mind.”

“No, I know what you mean. Eddie—Professor Munson told me what happened in his class. If any of those guys bother you again, please let me know. I’ll make them run laps or even sit them out of a game if I have to. Nothing scares these kids more than not being able to play.”

You knew of Steve Harrington mostly because of his parents. The Harrington’s were prominent members of the community and very well respected. In your high school there had been pictures of him from his days on the basketball and swim team when he was a student. 

After he graduated, other rumors began to circulate about him spending time with the “freaks of Hawkins” but who cares. Not you especially since you had been labeled a freak since elementary. 

“I, um, I hope you didn’t take offense to what I said. Your team doesn’t suck just…some of your players. I mean, not their playing ability just their personalities. FUCK, why can’t I talk today?”

His smile widens as he laughs from his gut making you don your own smile. 

Coach Harrington’s eyes meet yours for a moment before a controlled laugh escapes his lips.

“What, um, what were you listening to so loud that you didn’t hear me yelling for you to slow down?”

Giggling, you gesture towards your Walkman. 

“Just some CD I burned to get me pumped. Right now, it’s playing ‘Master of Puppets’ by Metallica. Have you heard that song?”  

Something dark flashes over his face before he awkwardly nods and gets up leaving you alone on the bleachers as you stare after him. 

***

“Are you fucking kidding me?”, you growl as you push on the girl’s locker room door to find it locked. “What is going on with me this semester?”

Glancing around and seeing no one, you brave the boy’s locker room, finding it open, assuming that in his weird state, maybe, Mr. Harrington forgot to lock up. As quickly as you could you showered and began to change into some comfy clothes. 

The sound of something hitting the wall nearby froze you in fear as you gaze scanned the area. 

No one nearby. It could be the janitor cleaning the coach’s office.

Quietly, you threw your things over your shoulder and tiptoed that way with the intention of ducking under the window of the area so you weren’t seen but the muffled sound of moaning had you pausing again. 

“Mmm…Steve…Steven. Wh-What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, sweetheart. It’s ok. I’m ok. I’m right here, Steve. You saved me.”

Peeking through the window, you saw their forehead’s pressed together as Eddie gently caressed his cheek with his thumbs. A small sigh left your lips when they began to kiss each other again. With a bit of needy force, Steve turned him around and pulled his back flush to his chest. Gently nibbling on his neck, he reached around and unbuckled Eddie’s pants, pushing them down to free his cock that he promptly began stroking. 

Fuck me he’s big. 

You practically drooled at the sight, licking your lips as your palm absently glided under your shirt to rub your tummy.

With his free hand, Steve sloppily yanked down his sweats making you moan as you watched him spit in his palm and rub it between Eddie’s cheeks before gradually guiding himself into his entrance. 

“Fuck, Steve. That’s it, baby.”

Clinging to each other tightly, Steve thrust his hips at a steady rhythm and you marveled at the sight as your fingers drifted into your own sweatpants and you began circling your clit.

“H-Harder, Steve, please.”

“Please.”, you whisper as you try to keep your eyes open and on them. 

“Like this, honey? Fuck you feel so good, Eddie. I love you.”

Arching his back, your professor craned his neck to kiss the man’s lips as he pumped into him as hard as he could without hurting him. 

“I love you to, baby. Shit, I’m going to cum. Cum with me, Steve.”

Nodding aggressively, he chased their highs until both men grunted and came. While they softly kissed each other your body trembled as you covered your mouth, trying to stifle your moans as the coil snapped. It wasn’t enough as both their heads turned meeting your eyes as you were coming down from cloud 9. 

No one moved as the three of you stared each other. 

Holding up his hands in surrender, Steve pulled out as Eddie straightened up, worry painting both their faces. 

“Y/N…”

Before they could do anything else, you turned and quickly ran out of the locker room.

##############

What the fuck was I thinking?! I shouldn’t have watched them. Two teachers in the MALE locker room while I was touching myself. Shit. I’m going to be expelled for sure. 

Sitting on the stage of your theater class, you focused on the script in front of you as you prepared for an audition your professor recommended. Mrs. Lilah always felt constrained by Hawkins when it came to material but this year she quiet literally said fuck them and decided to do Rocky Horror Picture Show. 

As you read through your lines for Magenta, a clearing throat caught your attention. 

“Hey Eddie!”, your theater teacher beamed as she waved at him and he smiled back before jumping onto the stage to sit beside you. He smelled strongly like cigarettes and a dash of cologne that had your head spinning as you continued to keep your eyes on the paper in front of you. 

“Hey Lilah. I hope I’m not disturbing anything. I just need to talk to Y/N here about an assignment real quick.”

“No problem. She does have her audition for Janet in a few minutes and I’m dying to see her interpretation.”

That caught your attention as your head swiveled her way. 

“I’m doing what now?”

“For Janet, honey. I think you’d be perfect. She’s a bit timid at first but comes out of her shell.”

“But…but…she’s in a bra for a good chunk of the play.”

“Yeah…does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Hm, yeah, Y/N, does people seeing your body in the shadows in an intimate way make you uncomfortable?”, Eddie murmured low enough so only you could hear. 

“Let’s just do the audition and if you prove me right, we can talk about the wardrobe, ok?”

Flashing her a timid smile, you turn to give your attention to your professor. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Skipping my class this morning? Oh, you mean when you watched me and my boyfriend have sex in the boy’s locker room?”

“The girl’s one was locked and I needed to shower—”

“That explains why you were in the locker room but not why you were there watching. Are you going to run and tell all your little friends about how you saw the murderous freak fucking the pretty, rich football coach?”

“What? No. I would never—”

“Mhmm. Look how much will it take to keep your mouth shut?”

“Nothing. I don’t—”

“Please, Y/N! Everyone has a price and Steve doesn’t deserve to lose all he’s worked hard for. So, tell me—”

“Will you let me talk!?” Glancing around to make sure no one heard your outburst; you lower your voice as you continue. “I don’t want anything or any money. I won’t tell anyone. I genuinely don’t care about your private lives. I’m really sorry I watched. I shouldn’t have…I just…”

Your professor’s eyes focused intently on you as he waited for you to continue. 

“I was attracted. The way you two kiss and the way he holds you…no one’s ever been that way with me…” When your eyes dared to finally meet his, you expected anger but those gorgeous chocolate irises displayed a softness you appreciated. “I swear, Mr. Munson, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

Nodding, he jumped down from the stage before turning to face you again. 

“I think under the circumstances you can call me Eddie. Not in class but… I also think you should play Janet. You’re a very beautiful young lady. Don’t let any of these superficial idiots take away that lead role from you just because of how you look.”

#############

A couple of weeks had passed and nothing of note happened with school or your classes. You were cast as Janet, allowing Eddie’s advice to drive you as you maneuvered the role. Your professor and Coach Harrington had minimal contact with you but you always felt their eyes following you around. 

Tonight, you were studying in the Hawkins diner off campus. You preferred it here then the library after hours because not only could you munch on some delicious food but no one was usually there that you knew. 

As the bell above the door dinged, you glanced up from the novel Eddie had you guys reading to see said professor and his boyfriend entering the establishment and taking a seat. You couldn’t help but wonder how hard being out like this must be for them. They couldn’t share a booth or be flirty. They couldn’t hold hands or kiss, at least not visibly where people could see. You hated that for them since both seemed like good men. You wondered why they stayed behind here in this terrible little conservative town instead of moving anywhere else. 

Hoping to slip out unnoticed and allow them privacy this time, you gathered your things and placed some money on the table. 

“Is that my favorite piggy?”

You roll your eyes at the sound of Martin’s voice as you try to ignore him and head out the door. A hand abruptly grabs you but you slap it away. 

“Don’t touch me.”, you hiss. 

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s Saturday and we just left an awesome party. Can’t you and I get along for once?!” His friends around the table behind him snickered as a big devilish smile stretched across his face. 

“If you weren’t such a fucking dick maybe. Now leave me alone.”

As you storm out the front door to your car, something tugs your backpack, ripping it open as all your books and papers tumble to floor. Martin’s hand wraps around your throat and pushes you against the trunk of your car. 

“You will show some fucking respect especially in front of my friends.”

“Aw, did little Martin get his feelings hurt?”, you sass. “Didn’t realize you had any.” 

Your knee rises as you hit him in his stomach but he’s still faster as his palm reaches out to grab your shirt tugging you down hard onto the pavement.

Abruptly, someone grabs his own jacket collar and tosses him roughly away from you as Eddie quickly maneuvers around them both, kneeling to your level. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart? Can you stand?” Silently nodding, you take the hand he offers to you and rise to your feet. He notices immediately that your blouse is torn and without hesitation shimmies out of his leather jacket and places it around your shoulders. 

“Mr. Click, on Monday, you will see me in my office.”, Coach Harrington growled as he glared at the boy. 

“Oh, fuck you! That fat little whore pushed me into it!”

“HEY!”, he bellowed making you jump as your teacher rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “I would advise you to stop speaking. You’re already in a lot of trouble.”

“Pfft, you think I’m scared of you, Steve Harrington?! Yeah, my parents told me all about you and the disappointment you became to Hawkins. You’re fucking pathetic! I’m surprised they even hired you to coach us let alone your friend the freak! I guess those satanic rituals DO fucking work.”

The man’s body language stiffened before he did that controlled chuckle you had heard before. 

“Alright, Martin, we can do this right now then. I was only going to suspend you but you know, since I’m so fucking pathetic I think I’ll just go all in. You’re off my team.”

“WHAT?!”

Turning around, he ignored the boy’s continued expletives as he faced you both. 

“Eddie, get her books and all her things. We’ll take her back to our house, if that’s ok with you.”, he asked pointedly in your direction. All you could do was nod and try to bend down to get your thing but the metalhead stopped you before descending to the concrete to collect your things. 

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! YOU’LL REGRET THIS!”

“Take it up with the dean. Until then on Monday, I want your shit out of my locker room or else I will throw it in the garbage. Come on, guys.”

Coach Harrington opened the back seat door for you, startling you when he closed the door a bit too hard. 

***

When they parked outside of a home, neither moved as Eddie’s eyes scanned over his partner’s face.

“You ok, babe?”

His ringed fingers reached out to caress through his hair and in the rearview mirror you could see Steve close his eyes as he exhaled. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get inside.”, he answered curtly as he came around and opened your door and you followed both men inside. You stood in their living room silently as they threw their keys down and Eddie disappeared down a hallway. 

When he came back, he handed you a t-shirt that read “Def Leopard: Tour of 88!”

“Go put this on and we can see about fixing your own.”

His eyes followed you as you entered their bedroom where the bathroom was located and shut the door. Removing your blouse, you could see a slight bruise forming where the strap of your backpack had been on your shoulder and some redness around your neck where Martin had grabbed you. Swallowing your pain at the sight, you put on the shirt they provided and folded his jacket, placing it nicely on the countertop.

Your eyes took in their fairly average bathroom, smirking slightly at the hair gel you imagined was Steve’s as Eddie’s hair was always wild even during class when he pulled it back. Both their colognes and bathroom products were side by side like any couples but the few things you knew about them had each personality standing out. Cigarettes were by the window near the bathtub where you imagined Eddie smoked as they took a bath together. On the floor by the shower, were some handheld barbells you imagined Steve used while Eddie took a shower or got ready so they could talk to each other about their days. 

Walking back out to their bedroom, you noticed a guitar against the wall and grinned at its slightly cheesy 80s aesthetic. You remembered once hearing that Eddie Munson used to be in a band but for the life of you couldn’t remember the name. You wondered if he still played. 

“Your student that you talk about…Y/N…she was listening to that song you played in the upside down. I just…it made me think of us…us finding you.”

What could he have meant by that…

Your gaze shifted to their dresser that had a vanity mirror attached with pictures taped to it. There were so many images of them together that made your smile widen but there were also photos of Steve with a young lady you remember seeing around Hawkins. She used to work at Family Video until a few years ago but you weren’t sure where she moved on to from there. Did you remember Steve there? No… you were pretty young though and focused on your own carefree life. 

There were pictures of Eddie with the Hellfire club. They were still active when you went to Hawkins High filled with a cool group of kids you hung out with from time to time. There were whispers of the man that created it but everyone in the club always said good things about the former Dungeon Master. 

They must have been in two different worlds in high school. 

What must have happened to bring them together?

“Steven, you need to calm down.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice caught your attention after something loud slammed in the kitchen. You tiptoed down their hallway and paused on the other side of the wall. 

“Fucking asshole kid, I swear to God.”

“Baby, it’s not the first time someone has said those things to us and it won’t be the last especially since we chose to stay here.”

“We didn’t exactly choose and that’s not why I’m upset.”

“Why then?”

“She…she seems like a nice girl.”

“She IS a nice girl.” Eddie sighs as he lowers his voice. “Steven, she’s a student and a lot younger than us.”

“Not a lot. Jesus, you make us sound ancient. She’s, what, how old you were when you graduated high school.”

“Hey, ok first off, rude.” They both giggle making you grin. “Second, again, she’s a student. She’s MY student. I could get in way more trouble than you.”

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

“I swear, sweetheart, don’t we have enough chaos fucking hiding our relationship?”

“Oh, come on, Ed, you don’t like her?”

“I didn’t say that. I just… yeah, she’s beautiful and adorable and… fuck. We shouldn’t talk about this with her here.”

Collecting your bearings, you walk around the wall and knock on it lightly.

“Hey, there she is. I, uh, I fixed your backpack. Let me, um, see if I can salvage this top for you here.”, Eddie smiles as he takes it from your hands and heads for their couch. 

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

“Mhmm. I can’t like whip up a brand new outfit or anything but I can patch things together.”

“Are you alright? Do you need any Band-Aids or an ice pack?”, Steve asks from his place by the counter. 

“No, I’m ok. My throat is a bit sore but…” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s turning around and grabbing an ice pack from the freezer, wrapping it in a rag, and sitting in front of you on their coffee table to place it on your neck. “Thank you. I like being choked but not like that or by that asshole.”

They both glance at each other as you blush. 

“Yeah, probably not a joke to make right now. Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot.”, Eddie says from behind you. 

“Sorry.” They laugh making you grin to yourself as you look down at your feet. “I hope I didn’t get you in trouble. I’m not…actively…trying to do that.”

“Oh, no worries, honey. Trust me. What is he going to say? ‘Coach Harrington kicked me off the team after I drunkenly assaulted a girl?’ I’m pretty sure the dean will side with me on that one.”

Your silence makes them nervous and they exchange another look. 

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

“I’m thinking about how I never expected Martin to do what he did. He’s been mean to me since freshman year but never aggressive like that.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right, princess?”

“Yeah, I know. I…I…” Unable to control them, the tears began to flow and a ring laced hand delicately reached for your shoulder, moving the things in his lap aside so he could hold you to his chest. Steve placed his own palm on your jeaned thigh and comfortingly rubbed against the material. 

Once again you were engulfed in the scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and cologne as his cheek rested on the top of your head. You couldn’t explain why but you felt safe here with their hands on you encased between them. 

It had been a few months since your last relationship and you could feel yourself dropping into that particular headspace the longer they comforted you. 

“I’m…I’m also thinking…about what I saw that night…in the locker room. How you two took care of each other…”

All movement on your body ceased as they even held their breathes. 

“H-How about we get you home, Y/N? I can give you this shirt after our next class.”

Eddie lightly pushed you to the side as he tried to stand but you hastily grabbed his arm stopping him. 

“I heard you. You said I was beautiful and sweet.”

As your little voice flowed through his ears, his eyes squeezed shut trying to keep control. 

“Y/N, maybe, he’s right. Maybe, we should get you home before—”

“Before what, Steve?” This was the first time you were using his name out loud and the notion sent tingles all through your body feeling like a little girl who misbehaved.

“Hey. You show him respect, little girl. That’s Mr. Harrington or sir.”, Eddie scolded in gruff tone.

“Edward…”

“No, Steven. Little girl wants to play with the grownups, then that’s how we will treat her. Now, we said, you’re going home. Grab your things and head towards the front door.”

“Why did you bring me back here, Mr. Munson? You could have taken me back to my dorm but you didn’t. Why?”

“Because people shouldn’t be seeing a professor drop off a student on campus.”

“But Steve said he was taking me to your house out loud to Martin.”

The man’s hand firmly came down on the side of your thigh making you yelp as you bit your bottom lip. 

“He said show me respect.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.” Placing your hand on top of his, your thumb tenderly ran along his skin as you leaned against Eddie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mr. Munson. Like I said…no one has ever taken care of me or looked out for me the way you two do with each other.”

You were slightly surprised when his fingers gently came around and brushed your hair away from your face. 

“We brought you back here because we thought you were safer with us here. After what he did, we thought that’s what you needed.”

“Am I not safe here?”, you whisper as you can’t help but rub your thighs together. 

“Y/N… Eddie and I have been through a lot. What you saw in my office isn’t always how we are when we’re intimate. We’re not always…soft.”

“But I promise you, princess, we are nothing like Martin. If you wanted to leave…right now…that’s ok. We can take you home or call you a cab if that makes you more comfortable.”

He was giving you an out; they both were. You could leave right now and the three of you could pretend this never happened. You could pretend that Steve’s large hand on your upper thigh wasn’t turning you on as you thought about how those long fingers would feel inside of you. You could pretend that Eddie’s touch wasn’t getting progressively slower as the pads of his own fingers traced your cheek making your pussy clench around nothing. You could pretend the notion of doing something you shouldn’t and being at the mercy of these two men’s wills didn’t drive you crazy. You could do that… 

Or…

“I don’t mind it not being soft, Mr. Harrington. I trust you and Mr. Munson.” Both men exchanged on final look of caution before your last sentence pushed caution to the wind. “Please, I need you.”

“I think since you saw us in vulnerable position we should get the same courtesy.”, Steve replied in a much huskier tone than before. Taking your hands in his, he pulled you to your feet and pushed the coffee table out of the way before taking the seat you had just been in. On impulse, Eddie leaned closer to him as the other boy wrapped his arm around his shoulder. 

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

As your eyes shifted between their heavy gazes, you lifted off the shirt he gave you, unbuttoned your pants, and shimmied them a bit clumsily down your legs.

You stood there waiting for more instruction as they continued to stare at your body. 

“Did you see our cocks?”

“Yes.”

Steve smirked as his boyfriend began to kiss his neck while his palm traveled along his chest down his stomach.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Remember that, Y/N. I don’t like repeating myself and Eddie is a lot nicer than I am in here.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered when the metalhead’s palm grazed the bulge in his jeans. 

“Now, if you saw or cocks, then why are you stopping?”

“You said…I should be vulnerable, sir.”

Your small voice had them groaning as Eddie fumbled with the pretty boy’s belt almost desperately. 

“Fuck. Don’t move.” He commanded towards you as his head turned to capture his boyfriend’s lips. Lifting his hips, he helped Eddie blindly pull his jeans down just enough to free his length. As he started to lean over his lap, Steve hastily stopped him with a smile. “You don’t want to see her, honey?”

He chuckled as he focused his attention back on you. 

“Do you feel vulnerable, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm. Not enough to not finger yourself out in the open though, huh? I mean at least you had pants on.”

“I-I-I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, you weren’t. Take off the rest so we can see you.”

While doing what he said, you watched as Steve pushed down Eddie’s pants as well and both men kissed passionately in front of you as they stroked each other’s cocks. 

“Y/N, is there anything we should know? Anything we should avoid?”

“No, Mr. Munson.”, you answered, appreciating his soft tone as he asked his series of questions. 

“You said you liked being choked but is there anything physical we shouldn’t do?”, Eddie groaned out as Steve lifted off his shirt.

You heard his question but couldn’t form an answer as your eyes starred at the scars that littered his chest. They looked like whatever wound created them was deep, possibly life threatening. What could have happened to him?

“HEY!”, he barked making you jump. “He said he’s not as nice as me but that doesn’t mean I’m easy going! Now, answer the fucking question, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. N-No, I don’t mind being hit or p-punished. Mr. Munson, what happened?”

As you started to step forward, both sets of brown eyes glared your way freezing you in place.

“Do you know the stop light system?”, Steve growled in a much rougher tone than you were prepared for. Nodding curtly after reciting it to them, he got up and grabbed your arm, sitting you between them. “Now, we do have some rules, Y/N. The first rule is the most important. DON’T ask about our scars.”

“Our?”

Steve slowly lifted off his own shirt and tossed it to the side. He didn’t have as many scars as Eddie but they were just as deep and looked similar. Whatever happened must have happened to both of them. 

“I’m so sorry you both went through…whatever hurt you.”, you coo as you reach out to graze your fingers down Eddie’s chest. 

The darkness in their eyes faltered slightly at your sincerity and the metalhead took your hand in his, tenderly kissing the back of it. 

“Second rule. You have to be vocal, Y/N. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, we need you to say red ok?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson. “

“Good. Good girl.”

His praise made you giddy as you blush making him smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I have one more question, princess. Have you ever done anything like this before?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yeah, we’re going to need you to clarify that.”, Steve laughs. 

“I’ve done rough stuff with dominate partners before. I’ve never been with two men before.”

The way you said the word men had Eddie’s eyebrow quirking upward. 

“Are you trying to tell us you’ve only been with boys your age?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why did you feel the need to tell us that?”

“Do we make you nervous?”, Steve asks as his fingers dance up your arm. 

“Yes b-but not because of you two, Mr. Harrington. I just wanted you to know j-just in case I’m not as ‘experienced’ as you both.”

Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks as he brought your lips to his. You weren’t surprised by the nicotine that lingered there but you were by the tingle that ran through your body as his tongue caressed your own. When he pulled away you tried to lean forward for more but his grip held firm. 

“We weren’t expecting you to be, pretty girl. You’ve only ever been with these little boys but you’re about to be fucked by real men, sweetheart. Trust us, we know how to take care of you.”

You moaned at his promise, turning towards Steve to crash your lips with his. He was a much more determined kisser, his mouth and tongue sending that same shock wave through to your core. 

“Have you ever sucked a cock as big as mine?”, he panted against your lips.

As you shake your head, his fingers grab your throat just below your jaw as if purposely avoiding where Martin had hurt you. 

“What did I say? How do you answer us?”

“I’m sorry. No, sir, I’ve never sucked a dick as big as either of you.”

Sitting back, his palm moved to the back of your neck, guiding you down over his leaking tip as Eddie adjusted your body till you were on all fours for them. 

“Fuck me, Steve. She is so fucking wet. Her pussy is just tripping down her thighs.”

“Aw, you like being a bad girl, don’t you, honey?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Harrington. I like being a bad girl.”

“Open your mouth.” Doing as he directed, you quickly kissed his slit making him mewl before fully taking him between your awaiting lips. “Yes, oh my god. T-That’s a good girl.”

Eddie’s fingers glided through your folds causing your eyes to roll as you bobbed your head.

“Steve, baby, Jesus, she’s so fucking tight.”, the metalhead groaned as his palm came down hard on your ass. 

“Yeah, Y/N? Did that feel good? You like when your professor spanks you?”

Yanking your hair roughly he tugs you off of him as you continue to stroke him with your hand. 

“I didn’t hear that, little girl. What did you say?”

“Y-Yes, sir, I like when Mr. Munson spanks me.” 

At your response he spanks you again right as he guides two of his digits into your core. Gripping you tighter, Steve forces your mouth on him again and holds you still as he thrusts his hips allowing his cock to hit the back of your throat. 

“Good girl. That’s it, Y/N. Keep your throat open for me.”

Abruptly, Eddie swats his boyfriend’s hand and tugs on your shoulder, guiding you down the hallway to their bedroom and tossing you onto their bed. After completely removing the rest of his clothes, he climbs between your legs and runs his wide, flat tongue through your pussy up to your clit. 

“Oh shit.”, you moan as your back arches into the feeling before yelping when his palm smacks your cunt. 

“Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

Steve chuckles as he climbs in beside you both placing his knees by your head as his fingers grip your hair again. 

“Can’t really blame her. I know how amazing your tongue feels. Then again, you may have some competition, babe, because her fucking mouth feels so good.”

Pride washes over you at his praise as you grip his cock and take him as far back as you can trying to continue to please him. 

“I-It’s ok, honey. We can train this little throat. As—fuck—as you know, Eddie’s a wonderful teacher.” His boyfriend tosses him a smirk as his tongue flicks faster against your bud. “Are you going to cum? Cum, Y/N. Cum all over his face.”

Your hips grinded against him as the man’s mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves and he pushed two of his fingers rapidly inside of you as the sound of your arousal to fill the room. 

Steve backed away from you, allowing you to focus and breathe as your orgasm washed over you. As you came down from your high, Eddie lightly slapped between your legs making you jump and groan. 

“Sensitive. I like that.”

Tilting towards their bedside table, he paused as their eyes met. 

“Shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

“What?”, Steve almost wined as you tried to contain your smile at their desperate need for you.

“Steve, we’ve been together for almost 10 years. When was the last time we used a fucking condom?”, Eddie growled. 

“We’ve been talking about adding someone to our dynamic for a while now.”

“Yeah but I wasn’t prepared for it to be tonight with a fucking student!”

“Excuse me.”, you finally pipe up. “I’m on the pill. I can understand if you still don’t want to but…I’m safe. And like I said, I trust you.”

Both men exchange a glance and you can’t help but giggle up at them. 

“So how long were you going to wait before you said anything, huh?”

“Mr. Munson, you didn’t ask. I wanted to be a good girl and only speak when spoken to.”

They narrow their eyes playfully at you for a moment before Eddie grabs your jaw and tilts you till your face is level with his. 

“You’re not cute, little girl. That little snarky attitude may have worked on those pathetic boys you were with but you’re in the bed of real men now. Don’t hide things from us you think we should know. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m—”

Steve’s hand cuts you off as he pushes you back against the mattress. 

“We know. You’re sorry.”

Taking hold of his shaft, Eddie taps himself against your pussy making you squirm as you open your legs wider for him. Grabbing your hips, he slides you closer and gradually guides himself into your dripping entrance.

“Fuuuuuck.”, he moaned as he slowly pumped his hips. “We are going to fucking ruin you for anyone else, little girl. Goddamn.”

“How does she feel, baby?”, Steve asks as he leaned towards him to lightly kiss his neck.

“S-So fucking tight, sweetheart, you have no idea. I want…”

“What do you want, Ed?”

“I wanna…fuck her into the fucking mattress.”

Your pussy fluttered around him at his words and his eyes that been closed shot open as he placed his palms on either side of you and started thrusting into you aggressively.

“You want that, you little whore. I can give that to you.”

Much softer than his partner, Steve turned your head and slide his cock back into your mouth that you eagerly sucked on relishing the taste of him. As he pounded into you, Eddie’s lips kissed along his boyfriend’s chest making the man groan louder as he ran his fingers through his hair. 

Bringing his lips to his own they passionately exchanged a kiss that had you mewling as the long-haired man rolled his hips hard hitting that soft spot inside you repeatedly. 

Eddie’s head tilted back as his jaw went slack and you couldn’t help but reach your hands up to run your nails down your chest. 

“I’m…I’m…please…”

Steve moved back as the metalhead grabbed your wrists and held them against the bed as his face fell beside your own. 

“You fucking ask me, Y/N. You beg us to let you cum. Shit. We have control in here.”, he whispers in your ear making your shudder underneath him. 

“P-Please, Mr. Munson. Can I cum? I want to cum on your cock, please.”

His hair tickles your face as he nods and the action of him tenderly kissing your cheek pushes you over the edge as the coil snaps. 

“Fuck, that’s it, pretty girl. Came so fucking hard on my dick. I’m going to fill you up, princess, ok?”

“Please…”, you whimper as he slams into you, chasing his high.

Your professor’s grunts filled your ear and you turned your head into the sound as he warmed your insides. As soon as he rolled off you, a hand took hold of your ankle and yanked you to the edge the bed. 

“Hey, hey, honey. No, no.”, Steve cooed with a hint of sarcasm as he lightly slapped your cheek. “Open your eyes, baby. What color are you at, Y/N?”

“Green.”

His massive palm slapped you a bit harder causing your eyes to fully open as you leaned up on your elbows. 

“Green, what?”

“Green, SIR!”

You’re suddenly turned on to your stomach as rough hands lift your ass in the air while another set takes hold of your wrists and pulls your top half down and forward. 

“Get rid of the attitude, Y/N. You think just because you came you’re allowed to be disrespectful?”, Eddie growls as Steve spanks your behind. “Now, answer him clearly without the tone.”

“Green, Mr. Harrington.”

As he ran his tip through your folds, you knew even after taking his partner, he was going to split you in half. 

“Fuck me.”, Steve moaned as he began pushing himself into you. 

Eddie’s head tilted to the side as he watched your face scrunch together. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart. Trust me, I know how hard he can be to take at first but it will feel good soon. I promise, baby.”, he soothed and kissed your lips. 

“F-Feels…feels good…now. Fuck.”

The man behind you smacks your ass at the curse, pressing further into your cunt till his hips finally connected with yours. 

“Still green, babe?”

“Yeeeees, sir.”

“Good.” Clinging to your waist, Steve pulled back till he was almost all the way out of pussy before roughly slamming back into you practically punching the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god!”

With a slanted smile, he pounded into you as Eddie watched from the side, sitting up on his knees to occasionally run his fingers down the man’s chest. 

“She feels really fucking good, right? Our young, new little toy.”

“Goddamn, I’m gonna fucking bust like a teenager.”

“Wait, pretty boy. You need to feel her cum. Her pussy fucking chokes your dick, I swear.”

“Fuck, Y/N, are you close, little girl?” When you didn’t answer, his hand reached around to grab you throat and lift your back to his chest. “Still coherent, you little slut? I asked you a question.”

“H-Harder, Mr. Harrington, please.”

As his forehead landed on your shoulder, he did what you asked till the bed began to jostle underneath you. A jolt of electricity shot through your body and you mewled as Eddie rubbed circles into your clit. 

You took their conversation as approval and your arm circle around Steve’s neck as you came. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!”, he grunted as he took hold of your chin and turned you so his lips could mingle with yours as he pumped into you a few more times before releasing his seed inside you. 

You were completely drained and slightly sore as he tried to delicately pullout of you while you waited for what to do next. Usually, the boys you were with did the minimal amount of aftercare, choosing to just cuddle with you which was fine. You were surprised, however, when Eddie informed you the bath was ready when you were. 

“For me?”

“Yeah, princess, come on. It will soothe your muscles.”, he murmured softly as he took your forearm and slowly walked you to the bathtub and guided you in. Your head remained lowered as you listened to him maneuver around the bathroom, sliding on some boxers before lighting a cigarette and placing himself on his knees beside you. 

Utilizing the washcloth, he cleaned you pausing when your hand suddenly grabbed his wrist as he attempted to clean between your legs. 

“I’m sorry. Just sore.”, you whispered as you let him go. 

Eddie’s eyes scanned you over and you heard him blow out some smoke from his lips as he put the cigarette down in a nearby ashtray. His fingers moved some of your hair back and he pressed his nose into your cheek while he continued to clean you. 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re still doing really good for me. I know your little pussy hurts from how we stretched her open but we got you, pretty girl. You took us both so well.”

As his deep, comforting tone continued to whisper praises, you keened into the sound as you winced, trying not to grab him again.

“I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

Tilting your head, your lips found his, both of you getting lost in the feeling as he dropped the rag from his hand so he could cup your face and hold you closer. A throat clearing distracted you two as Steve entered the bathroom. 

“I, uh, I have some clothes for you here, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Nodding, you allow Eddie to help you out and lead you in front of his partner who took a seat on the edge of the bed. His honey irises ran along your body, checking for extra care you may need that they inflicted but unlike your assault earlier the only mark they left was the slight reddening of their handprints on your behind. 

“How’s your throat? I tried not to grab you where—”

Your kisses startled him at first but after a few seconds his hand slithered tenderly behind your neck as he kissed you back. 

“I’m ok. Just sore…and tired.”, you reiterate as your heavy eye lids dropped. 

“Ok, honey.” Steve’s hands held you steady while Eddie dressed you in what smelled like their clothes as you swayed in his grasp. “You did so good for us. You deserve some sleep. Would you like me to carry you to the guest bedro—”

Both men watched with amusement as your shook your head before climbing over him and crawling under their covers. 

“I guess we can sleep in the—”

“Please don’t leave.”, you begged in a little girl voice that pierced their hearts. 

“Why does she keep interrupting me?”, Steve chuckles as he gets to his feet and yanks Eddie into his arms to kiss his lips. “She doesn’t do that with you. Or does she in class?”

At the word the metalhead became silent as he kissed his partner’s shoulder and crawled into the bed in front of you. His palm softly caressed your face and through your hair as Steve got in bed behind you.

“You’re worried.”

“Of course, I am and not just because she’s a student. That’s just the frosting on top of the cake that is our problem.”

“That sounds delicious.”

“Steven.”, Eddie scolds as they both smile. “She’s so much younger than we are.”

“10 years. Not much.”

“Not to mention the fact, that we are already hiding OUR relationship let alone another with a young, student. She deserves to be taken on dates and to live her life. She deserves to be seen not hidden.”

“So do you, honey.”

“Steve… we decided a long time ago to stay in Hawkins for a reason. We can’t be run out of town by these homophobic small, minded idiots. They’ve just barely started calming down when it comes to me and what happened in 86. And that’s another thing. What if…what if something happens? What if Vecna comes back or any other fucking monster? We can’t drag her into that.”

“Eddie, you’re over thinking again, but I see where you are coming from. Let’s…let’s take it one day at a time, ok? Who knows. She may wake up and decide this is all too much herself. She may not want to be with some…old, broken-down college professors slash coach.”

“Oh my god, baby.”, the long-haired boy chuckles as he throws his arm over his eyes. “You’re not broke down. We just have some wear and tear.”

Your palm reaching out and pulling Eddie closer as you fully folded into Steve silenced them. They relaxed into you as your professor kissed your forehead and your school’s coached nuzzled into your shoulder as they drifted off to sleep with you. 

##############

@corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon

[fruittt-punchhh]

useless

Synopsis: you were called in for the night shift unexpectedly, and now have to spend the next - 5 hours - with the on-shift manager, Sukuna. based on this ask.

Characters: Sukuna x reader. Other jjk characters mentioned, but not a major point in the plot.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! smut, afab! reader, fem! reader, manager! Sukuna (sorry, no four-armed, two-cocked royal monster for this one unfortunately), suggestiveness, cursing, mentions of female masturbation, public sex if you squint (outdoors), pet/affectionate names, age gap kiinda, big dick! Sukuna (duh), cunnilingus (m! receiving), probably other stuff i forgot.

Word count: 11.6k (holy SHIT)

Notes: it's time for a new arc on this page bitches. Toji is my one and only forever as you all know but everyone deserves to read ab sucking off their fave fictional character at your imaginary place of work :) @scorpiosugar

“Behind!” you hear someone yell from, well, behind you for the tenth time that hour. It was well past the restaurant’s usual rush hours, but customers were steadily pouring in through the large glass doors you could see through the crowd up front.

You had clocked in a few hours ago, you remind yourself, peering at the ticking clock overhead, silently willing the hour hand to reach ten o’clock already. Only three hours left, you cheer to yourself, trying to remind yourself how good your paycheck would look after picking up the extra shift. Someone had called out earlier, leaving the on shift manager to ring you much too early on your off day, all but begging for your assistance. Regrettably you agreed, knowing the extra money couldn’t hurt. It’s not like you had plans anyway, unfortunately.

Your usual on shift manager was Shoko, and while she ran a tight ship, being in the kitchen was fun with her. She made sure things were done properly, but she didn’t mind if you slacked off as long as your responsibilities were handled first. She even let you take smoke breaks, knowing damn well you didn’t smoke. She recognized your work ethic and wanted to keep you around as long as she could, even if that meant letting you dip out the back door for a fifteen minute breather every now and then.

“Y/n?!” You hear a booming voice to your left, snapping you out of whatever daze you were in.

“You gonna’ run the food or not?” Sukuna asks.

The dreaded Sukuna. You’ve barely worked with him before as he switched to nights almost right after you started, and you were on day shift. While you’ve never had any bad interactions with him, everyone at the restaurant said he was such a pain to work for, and you weren’t willing to find out just how much of a pain he could be today.

You were usually in the back of the restaurant, quickly prepping and cooking whatever stupid order came out of the noisy ticket printer along with the rest of the kitchen staff. However, due to the short staffing on this fine Friday, you were held responsible for not only prepping the meals, but running them to a certain section of tables the other wait staff couldn’t cover. It was only a few tables, but you hated going into the main part of the restaurant. You chose the back for its seclusiveness, and the staff back here were much more enjoyable to be around. Plus, you weren’t a stranger to wiping your hands on your shirt or apron, dirtying up your all black attire soon into every shift. Walking out into the semi-fancy restaurant with a towel tucked into your hip, sauce stains on your apron, and sweat beading at your forehead was not your preferred method of presenting yourself to the…lovely customers.

“S-Sorry, yeah,” you say back quickly, grabbing your tray and hoisting it on top of your shoulder for added support. You bump open the swinging doors with your hip, rushing to your table. You can’t believe you missed the signature ‘ding!’ that accompanied a completed tray. You swore you heard that ding in your sleep, haunting your peaceful moments at rest more than a few times a week. Must have missed it this time, though.

—

Finally. You heave a sigh you had been holding in for the last hour. You had most of your tables cleared or taken care of, and you had a moment in the kitchen to yourself to catch your breath. The night was finally dying down, and you only had a little over an hour left. Maybe you wouldn’t die a slow and painful death in the back of the restaurant tonight, and maybe you’d be able to go home to your cozy bed in due time (almost as if you did every night).

Wiping the sweat from your brow, you turn to look for Sukuna, desperate for a break. It takes a minute, but you run into him (almost literally) as he’s taking a step out of his cramped office.

“Shit, sorry -“

“My bad-“

You both mutter, tripping over the words as you both look for an apology for nearly toppling over one another. You chuckle as he reaches his hand behind his neck, grabbing it and sighing as he lets his arm rest there. You take careful attention to note how his forearms looked like they might split the two buttons neatly fastened at his wrists.

“Can I go on my smoke break now? Just need a few,” you ask, hoping he wouldn’t bust your balls about it.

“Uh, sure, I’ll meet you out there,” he says before he turns back into his office, leaving the door only slightly ajar.

Meet you out there? What was this, a soccer match? You have no time to waste in responding and immediately turn on your heels, shuffling through the crowd of servers, cooks, and busboys galore to the back door.

Sure, he could just need a smoke too. He’s been here far longer than you today and the heavy bags that decorate his eyes didn’t go unnoticed by you - or anyone for that matter.

You leave the door propped open behind you with a random piece of wood sitting outside, not wanting to have to bang on the door again for someone to let you in after it automatically locks - a mistake you only let yourself make once twice. The cool air hits you immediately as you search for your trusty milk crate you fashioned as a stool. You try not to get on your phone during your break, only using it to set a timer or check your texts if you had to. You liked to take this time to detach from the busy building behind you, taking in concentrated, steady breaths.

You set the too-short timer on your phone, raising up your hip to slide it back into your rear pocket. On busy days like these, especially days where you were supposed to be off, watching reruns of whatever peaked your fancy on the couch, you felt the need for a cigarette. You used to smoke in your college days at parties or if someone offered, never wanting to cross the line of buying a pack for yourself. You wouldn’t even know what to ask for anyways.

But on days like these, it almost felt necessary. You continue your breathing, leaning your neck down to stretch the sore muscles as you place your face in your hands. You rub your eyes, thanking god you didn’t accidentally pop one out as you received the biggest scare you had in a while.

“Jesus Christ!” You blurt, totally forgetting that your manager was planning on accompanying you for your break. You hadn’t even heard the heavy metal door creek and strain as it opened, there was no flash of light from inside the building, nothing. Weird.

“You meditatin’ or something?” He asks, seeming the most unconcerned you had ever seen him. He reaches behind him, pulling out a shiny, new pack of cigarettes, still tightly wrapped in cellophane. He rips the plastic packaging with his teeth, and it almost looks like he’s flashing a smile at you.

He raises his eyebrows at you with an attitude, non verbally demanding an answer as he hits the pack bottom down on his palm with a loud thwap! thwap!

“No,” you answer plainly, “just on my break.” He pulls a fresh cigarette from the pack before bringing it up to his lips. He pats his pockets, frantically searching for something to accompany his cigarette.

“Got a lighter?” He says, muffled by the thin stick.

“Nope,” you offer, not bothering to throw in an apology like you usually would.

He huffs, turning swiftly back into the restaurant after he mutters a low, ‘useless’ that he assumes you didn’t hear. He yells from inside of the restaurant, asking some shiu? for a lighter.

He’s quickly stepping back outside, cupping the lighter in both hands before he shields the end of his cigarette. He flicks the start wheel, and you try your damndest not to admire how good he looks softly illuminated by the flame. He pulls in a heavy drag as you watch the tip of his cigarette turn to hot ash.

He huffs, blowing out a large cloud into the wind, “Watchu’ starin’ for?”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Got nothin’ else to look at. Besides the dumpster, I guess,” you add, motioning to the container of literal hot garbage that was all too close to you two.

“Good to know I’m better to look at than piles of shit,” he says, not attempting to muffle the slight chuckle that escapes.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you say, reaching back into your pocket to check how much time you had left. 8 minutes.

He huffs again, but decides to keep his quip to himself for time’s sake.

“Why aren’t you smoking on your smoke break?” He asks, trying his hardest to appear like he doesn’t actually want to know.

“Dunno’. I don’t smoke that much,” you respond. But it just wasn’t good enough.

“I could snitch on you for that, ya’ know?” He threatens, waiting to see if you’d stand up for yourself or cower meekly like the rest of his subordinates when he applied even the slightest pressure.

You laugh, “Do it then. Shoko doesn’t care,” you tell him truthfully. She knew from the jump you didn’t smoke and still allowed it, stating that if anyone tried to bitch at you for it to blame it on her. Which you wholeheartedly did.

“Good for her,” he adds, not knowing whether to be offended or impressed by your brevity. “But right now, I’m your manager,” he says as he crouches down, wanting to look you eye to eye.

You ignore the flush you feel rise up your neck. You felt yourself fawning under his gaze, paying too much attention to the purse of his lips as he took yet another extended drag of his cigarette.

You had to keep your composure, even though he wasn’t the ugliest person you’d ever seen. You were used to standing up for yourself in the kitchen. Being a woman in a kitchen environment is not for the weak, and this fact you knew too well. You didn’t even feel like you were that attractive, but you couldn’t count on all fingers and toes how many hands you’ve had to swat back or advances you’ve had to decline from the creepy older men that worked beside you.

You didn’t want to spend the - you check - 6 minutes you had left on your break arguing with a manager you barely knew.

“Then gimme’ one or I’ll go back in,” you offer. You hated to ask, but a cigarette may help you chug through this last hour of your shift.

He smirks, pressing his hand on his knee to help himself stand. You’re hidden in his shadow now, only faintly lit by the dim street light nearby. He reaches in his pocket again, letting out a sigh as he meets your question with a proposition: “Close for me, then sure. You can even restart your fuckin’ timer for all I care.” He adds, becoming annoyed by how often you were checking your phone in front of him, as if you didn’t want to be outside with him or something.

He has to be kidding. It was Friday and the restaurant closed at 1, and with how busy it was, you’d be lucky to be out of there by 2:30.

“Close?!” You say with the upmost attitude you can muster. He was insane if he thought you were staying that long.

“Choose,” is all he says before he reaches one hand towards the doorknob, the other outstretched to you, a fresh cigarette in hand.

Fuck. You ran through the pros and cons in your mind. The money wouldn’t hurt, but you were so tired. Your feet were aching and your back was in knots. But again, the money. The sole reason you took this extra shift in the first place. The extra fifteen minutes plus a cigarette seemed enough to convince you in the needy state you were in. You were ready to accept your fate before Sukuna butts in with a… countdown?

“Three,” he spits, growing impatient.

You wanted to test that patience. Maybe it was the rumors you’d heard about big, bad Sukuna.

“Two.”

But maybe it was the way he looked towering over you, presenting you with options he had selfishly picked, not caring for a compromise. He was the manager after all.

“O-,”

“Gimme that,” you interrupt, reaching to grab the cigarette out of his cold hand. You hate that you noticed his hands, but the dim lighting outside provided you little room to work with in terms of hand eye coordination. Your fingertips brush his lightly, and you would have thought he was losing circulation if you didn’t know any better.

He leans back against the wall as he watches you restart your timer, purposefully ignoring the previous brush of your manicured hands against his.

You motion for him to hand you the lighter, to which he smirks, crossing his large arms across his chest.

“Nope,” he mimics your word from earlier, putting extra emphasis on the ‘p’ sound with a pop of his lips. He was doing anything to get under your skin.

“What do you mean nope?” You ask as you take the cigarette back out of your mouth.

“Say please and I’ll think about it,” he teases.

14 minutes.

You were too old for this shit.

You stand abruptly, turning back into the restaurant as you swing the door open with a huff. Sukuna squints behind you, the bright kitchen lights burning his sleep deprived eyes. You rush to his office, pilfering through drawer after drawer to find a lighter. You knew the desk well - it was shared by all the managers. You and Shoko had many conversations in this office after closing time, enjoying each others company as she complained about the weird customers you’d have throughout the night.

Bingo. A bright red lighter peeks out from underneath some old mail, a faint, small ‘s’ written on the side in black sharpie. How cute. Maybe his mom sewed his initials into his undies, too.

You’re already lighting the cigarette before the door closes behind you, pulling in a much needed puff as you sit down back on your crate, and you are far from the picture of grace. Hair messy, face sweaty, and you nearly tumble off the crate from the sheer force of sitting down with such an attitude.

Sukuna tries to avoid your gaze as you come back out, instead occupying himself with following the small beads of sweat that fall down your temple. The sweaty, curled hair by your ears. The sleepy, heavy eyes that cut him such a nasty look.

You pull in and sigh, thankful for the fifteen minute vice you’ve allowed yourself for the night.

“Hm - that’s mine,” he taunts, surprised you were so forward to go through his desk. He’d have to talk to you about that later.

You hold it up, showing him the little ‘s’ on the side with a sarcastic smile. You toss it to him without warning, laughing to yourself as he misses entirely, dropping it on the ground at his feet.

“Clumsy,” you mutter, and you swear his eyes widen slightly, followed by a barely noticeable pink hue across his nose.

No one ever spoke to him like this. His employees seemed so frightened by him, although he couldn’t say for sure why. He was stern, but he noticed most of his attempts at ‘bonding’ with his workers fell short. He felt himself fulfilling the role of the angry, harsh manager more often than he’d like to admit.

You grew uncomfortable with each moment - the silence was deafening as you tried to find something to say, but he beats you to it.

“Uh, I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier,” he professes, actively avoiding your gaze. Although you were busy looking at the dumpster as opposed to him, he wouldn’t know. He kept his eyes trained on his feet. He hated apologizing.

“What?” You ask simply. You knew what moment he was referring too, but you needed to milk this rare vulnerability he was showing.

“Jesus.. earlier. I raised my voice. The fuckin’ bell’s messed up and I guess you didn’t hear it.”

So you weren’t going insane! It made you feel better knowing it was (or wasn’t?) a figment of your imagination. But you felt a little bad for the guy. His macho attitude was long gone as he tokes his cigarette, still avoiding eye contact.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you offer, not knowing what else to say.

“I’m not,” he spits, meeting your gaze with his once more. You hate that it gives you goosebumps.

“Sounds like it, to me,” you say, trying to hold your smile.

“Just explaining. Not apologizing. Two different things.” He says harshly. He really did not appreciate you trying to take advantage of his half-apology.

You fail at finding something to say, letting the silence linger for too long again. You were desperate for his break to be over, but he seemed to be intent on staying with you the entire time.

6 minutes.

“Why’d you switch to nights?” You begin, needing to cut the tension with something. You were curious if he was maybe in school or had some responsibilities that kept him busy during the day.

Again, that small blush. The barely there crimson hues spreads further than last time, covering his cheeks and if you weren’t mistaken, his ears. With his hair, he was turning to a pastel strawberry before your very eyes.

He clears his throat, “You looked like trouble,” he admits.

You’re hit with a flood of confusion. Most importantly, the reason he switched was because of you? Secondly, why did he have to use that phrase? It was more demeaning than he knew, and quite frankly -

“For me,” he finishes.

“What?” You huff, growing frustrated with his choice of words.

“You looked like trouble for me,” he corrects himself.

What the hell does that even mean?

He notices the utter confusion painted on your pretty face. He throws his cigarette on the ground beneath him, smushing it out before he grabs the lighter from his feet.

Turning back into the restaurant, he answers your unsaid question.

“I tend to go after women that look like you,” is all he says before he’s back in the restaurant, making sure to close the door tightly behind him.

Go after? What was he, a fucking tiger?

You can’t lie and act like the compliment (?) didn’t make your ego swell a bit. But switching his entire schedule because he was, what, scared of you? Worried he might “come after” you? You needed to know more, simply to have gossip for when you work with Shoko next.

Your timer still reads 4 minutes left, but your craving for the cigarette has long since subsided. You snuff it out, wringing your hands together before rubbing them on your jeans, desperate to get the sickly smell off of your fingertips.

From inside the restaurant, you can sense an influx of tickets printing. You hear feet start to bustle about, pots and pans clanging together, and that same loud voice barking orders at his employees. You only had three minutes left, but you couldn’t get the last 20 out of your mind. You’d find a point to bring it up to him later, you were sure of it.

You stand with a grunt, stretching your arms over your head before you turn to face the door - that Sukuna had so graciously shut behind him. You bang on the door with a closed fist, a loud boom! boom! boom! echoing through the nearly vacant lot behind you.

After your eighth or so hit, the handle turns, and you’re met with tufts of pink hair before anything else. You scoff.

“Missed me that much, huh?” He teases, and you’re taken aback. All of the previous conversation you had with him could be taken totally innocently, all except for that last minute or so. But you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking he was outright flirting with you.

You roll your eyes, shoving past him as he chuckles. You weren’t going to be stuck here with him until the wee hours of the morning, so it’s best you get started on your closing tasks asap. You didn’t close all too often, and you didn’t want to get overwhelmed with the responsibilities of shutting down the restaurant for the night.

You get back to your station, quickly catching up with what entree is currently being prepped. You try to keep your hands and mind busy, well aware of Sukuna’s looming presence in the kitchen. Before your actual smoke break, you tried your best to avoid him, not wanting to become subject to his bitching if you weren’t on your A-game. Now, you felt like being on this supposed A-game was impossible. You were exhausted, your body ached, and you were somehow convinced to close despite the very loud voice in your head protesting that decision.

Now, you had to deal with Sukuna’s gaze peering into the back of your skull. It made you nervous and you hated that, hated that you allowed him even an inkling of control over how you felt. But you couldn’t lie to yourself and pretend it didn’t affect you. You had to remind yourself that this was your manager, at least for tonight, and you were his employee. His stare was probably nothing more than a desperate attempt at calling you out on a mistake.

Right?

Is all you can ask yourself when you turn towards the trash can, potato peels in your cupped hands, when you catch him staring. He was leaned against a wall behind you, notepad in hand with the end of his pen affixed between his teeth. His eyes were glued to your ass before he scans your full body, taking in all of you before his eyes meet yours. Both of your eyes widen, shocked at how openly he was ogling your body. You feel the familiar blush rise up your neck again, and you couldn’t mistake a similar one appearing on Sukuna’s face. It was a brighter pink under the fluorescence of the kitchen lights. He threads his hand through his hair before he rushes to Nobara, quick to reprimand her for overcooking a steak. As if he wasn’t just drinking in the image of you.

You had to find time to talk to him, and soon. While you weren’t incredibely angry that he seemed to be interested in you, you didn’t want to assume he was incorrectly.

Another ticket prints as you’re placing the rest of your current ticket on the tray in front of you, ringing the stupid bell extra hard to ensure the wait staff hear it. You grab the ticket before you let out an exaggerated heave - it was a dessert order. Almost all of the desserts at the restaurant were pre-frozen or in the walk in, and there was never any actual cooking involved for the most part. You wipe your hands on your apron, turning for the walk in.

You yank on the comically large handle, the freezing air covering you in chills. The particular order had a side of ice cream, so you walk through the cool part of the walk in to the freezer door, yanking again on another stupid handle. The air in the freezer was nothing compared to the cooler, and you could already see your fingers turning red underneath the LED bulb above the door. The walk in was a mess, and the freezer even more so. You squat near the door, pilfering through the many items adorning the shelves. It didn’t help that the ice cream container was in a large cardboard box, similar to nearly every item in the freezer.

You stand, ready to step to the next shelf in your quest for ice cream, until you feel a nudge on your back, followed by a brief ‘scuse me’ from a now familiar voice. For the second time that night, he scares you so badly you think you could faint.

“Why are you so fuckin’ quiet?” You hiss, to which he shoots you a confused look from over his shoulder. He was pulling in a cart from the make line, full of containers and sauce bottles. He walked in back first, leaving nothing to your imagination as his tight black button up hugged his… very muscular back. It’s not like you knew him well at all, but you didn’t know him to be an avid gym-goer.

“Gonna’ help me or you wanna’ keep eye fucking me?” He grunts, failing to notice how all of your breath was caught in your chest.

Eye fucking? I mean yeah, you were admiring him. But you hadn’t even thought about anything sexual. Up until now. You felt delirious being up so late, and it had been a while since you got laid. And he still wasn’t the ugliest person on the planet.

He shifts to the other side of the cart, grabbing the necessary items and putting them on their applicable shelf. You notice how he’s able to grab nearly everything single-handed, whereas it took you both hands and a hoist of your knee to get some of the heavier items up on the high shelves. His hands were large with clean, neat nails trimmed short underneath a layer of shiny black polish. His sleeves were bundled at the midway of his forearms, revealing two black banded tattoos that wrapped around each of his wrists. You wondered if those were the only ones.

He lifts a heavier box over his head, shoving it in a back corner of the top shelf. You can’t miss the slight untuck of his shirt, the hardened ‘v’ that appears from underneath, and the tufts of blonde hair, starting at his belly button, trailing down to his -

“Eye fuckin’ it is then, huh?” He laughs as he turns to face you, leaning on the cart with one arm. His other arm is busy lazily tucking his shirt back in, his large hand repeatedly dipping underneath his waistband to smooth his shirt over his pelvis. You swear the shirt is tucked in enough, and has been for the last few seconds as he continues tucking and smoothing the fabric. He notices your eyes dart to his hand and he decides to leave it in his waistband, a feeble attempt to warm his cold hands and keep your attention trained to his waist. You stumble over your words, not even bothering to find an explanation.

“What is going on here? Like.. what are you trying to do?” You ask.

“What?” He scoffs, refusing to believe you’d call him out on his long glances and repeated attempts to be near you.

You cross your arms, shivering, as you wait for him to respond with an answer.

He pauses.

“Can we talk about it not in the freezer?” He asks, crossing both arms over his large chest as he’s shivering now too.

“Where then?” You ask, surprised that he even knew what the ‘it’ was you were referring to.

“Meet me in the cooler when you’ve finished your tickets,” he adds before he’s grabbing the cart and pushing the freezer door open into the cooler to leave.

So it wasn’t just your imagination. You had no clue where this conversation could lead, but you were eager to see. Now, finishing your tickets was the priority, which brings you back to the ice cream. Oh. Sukuna had replaced it when he came in and you were too busy gawking to notice. You grab the container, rushing out of the walk in to be met with a loud yelp from Nobara, exclaiming that she thought you’d died in there. Seems you weren’t the only one getting scared tonight.

You only had four more tickets, and one was a drink order for the bar, thankfully. You rush to finish, needing the customers gone as soon as possible so you could start fully cleaning the back. You definitely weren’t rushing so you could talk to Sukuna. Definitely.

In your hurry, you spill sauce onto your workstation close to the edge, some of it spilling onto your apron. Instinctually, you scoot your hips back from the table quickly in an attempt to avoid further dirtying your clothes, to no avail. In your motion, you accidentally thrust your hips into something - no, someone, behind you. While bumping into someone in the kitchen is no rare occasion, you could tell by the huff of breath let out behind you that the hips you just pushed your ass on belonged to Sukuna.

Was he hard?

You felt embarrassed even thinking of a question like that, but it was for good reason. The half-second you had your hips aligned with his allowed you to feel some sort of.. length pushed against you. There was no mistaking it. You look back to him over your shoulder as he’s stepping away from you, and he rolls his eyes at you. Not in a good, ‘oh god her ass is heavenly’ type of way. In a, ‘you can do better than that’ type of way.

One more hour.

-

You finish your tickets, taking extra precautions not to make any more messes. You go to look for Sukuna, but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not in the kitchen, and his office door is propped open to an empty seat. You ask a coworker if they’ve seen him, and they only answer with a shrug. You glance to the back door, and it’s closed shut. You head to the walk in anyways, assuming he’ll meet you there in due time.

Until the door is pushed into you. A large hand grabs your wrist, pulling you in. You’re yanked into the cold and backed into the door before you can even let out a gasp. Sukuna stands opposite you, eyes too hooded and low for you to discern how he may be feeling (not that you care).

“Talk,” he says, waiting for you to lead.

“I’m the one that asked you the question. Remember?” You ask, adding a sarcastic smile for good measure.

“You asked me two questions. Remember?” He asks, pitching his voice an octave or two to mimic you.

At this point, you didn’t remember what the hell you asked specifically. You were so drained from the day you could have asked him ten questions and you’d be none the wiser. You nod your head 'no'.

“You wanted to know ‘what’s going on here’ and ‘what I’m trying to do’. Two different questions, woman.”

The nickname makes you squirm internally. You felt desperate - too desperate even. You knew he had a few years on you, although you didn't know how many. You were in your mid-twenties and he couldn't have been more than thirty-five. But still, the difference was there. Even if you two shared a birth year, he was still in a position of power over you. Regardless of how often you two worked together, he was a manager, and you were a line cook. Every voice in your mind is begging you to leave, but your feet are glued to the cold metal floor.

“Yeah, s-sorry. What is going on?”

He notices your nervousness and he wishes it didn’t make him feel so fucking flustered. Last time he checked, he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore.

“Well, we’re unfortunately at our place of employment, on the clock. I’m your manager. You’re my employee,” he says, taking the smallest step towards you, ”and that about covers it. Unless you think there’s something else going on.”

There’s no way he’s trying to pull the fucking stupid card.

“I know there’s something else going on, Sukuna. I saw you staring,” you spit. You caught him swallowing after you said his name, which would have been cuter if you weren’t currently freezing to death.

“Just because I stare doesn’t mean something’s going on,” he says with a smirk, shamelessly letting his eyes trail your body again, lingering when his eyes meet your chest to commit to memory how your nipples cut through your shirt in the cold of the walk in.

You huff, raising your voice to emphasize your point, “Then why are you walking around with a fuckin’ hardon?”

You barely notice the muffled ‘I wasn’t’ before Sukuna’s eyes widen as you feel a weight leave your back. You could barely process someone was trying to come in the walk in by the time Sukuna is crowding your space, one hand flying to the bulky handle to keep the door closed, the other reaching to cover your mouth. His body is slightly pressed to yours and his scent is invading your every thought. He smells masculine - musky and woodsy, like he had been out in the rain. His hands were harsh on your face, pushing down onto you with more force than you thought necessary. His thumb cupped under your chin, long, thick fingers nearly touching your ear as they stretch across your now beet-red cheeks. His chest and arms flexed in front of you as he kept the door shut, and you had to shut your eyes for fear of being caught staring.

The almost-intruder gives up, releasing the handle as the both of you let out a breath. The white, smoke-like air leaving his mouth in the cool air of the walk in clouded your vision as he removes his hand from your mouth, but not the door. He couldn’t risk having someone else barge in and it gave him an excuse to have you against the wall in front of him, albeit not in the way he would have preferred.

You two lock eyes, almost panting from the intensity of what just happened. You both look at each other’s lips, with Sukuna’s eyes flicking between your lips and eyes more often than yours.

You lick your lips, feeling like you were under a spotlight with how intensely he’s meeting your gaze. He was about to speak before you interrupt him, suddenly remember his admission from earlier.

“You weren’t hard?” You ask, and he laughs. The first real laugh you’ve got out of him the entire night.

“No, no I wasn’t, hah. Why do you care?”

You felt stupid but there was no way he wasn’t hard. He must be lying because you couldn’t have imagined what you felt. There was no mistaking the size, the length, the heat. It had to be.

“Then what was it?” You ask, patiently waiting for him to find an excuse.

Until he hits you with a, “my dick,” that knocks the wind from your gut. The shit-eating grin that plasters his face sends a warmth to your groin you haven’t felt in a while.

“W-What do you mean?” You ask, and he pouts, mocking your sheepish attitude.

“I don’t understand what you’re so confused about, girl. You’re the one that rubbed your ass on my dick. Doesn’t mean it was hard,” he shrugs.

You remember how big he felt even through the layers of clothing, and it scared you. That was him soft? You were starting to wonder what you’d gotten yourself into. But you had no clue how to respond to that. You couldn’t just compliment him on his soft dick. Weird.

“Well, you still didn’t answer both questions.”

He huffs out a chuckle, remembering the previously avoided ‘what are you trying to do?’

He looks at you, lost in thought. He scans your face before he’s reaching his hand towards yours shoved in your pocket. He extends his palm, motioning for you to place your hand in his. You oblige, pulling your hand out of your pocket before he’s grabbing your wrist, completing enveloping it in his large palm.

He leans closer to you, placing his left cheek on yours as he speaks into your ear.

“I think you know what I’m trying to do, y/n.”

He grips your wrist tighter, leading it to his groin to present you with his now undeniably hard dick. You stifle a gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation of his breath on your ear, cold cheek against your burning one, hard length now sitting heavy in your palm, twitching under your light touch. Now you know why you thought he was hard earlier. He was a shower and a grower, and the sinful thoughts that filled your mind did nothing to stop you from sliding your hand down further, to see just how much of a grower he really was. You knew you should protest this firmly, tell him he’s wrong for lusting after his subordinate, and clock out to seal the deal. But the stifled ‘mmph’ you hear to your left after you squeeze around his tip, precum leaking through his pants, has you questioning why you’d even think to leave. The wetness you thought you had under control was becoming a problem as it slowly soaked through your panties.

He pulls away from your ear, flicking your hand away with a tsk before he’s closing in on you once more, grabbing your chin so you can look up at him properly.

“Since when are you so greedy, huh? So eager? Didn’t tell you to start strokin’ it, now did I? Or are you that much of an overachiever like I’ve heard? I had to beg you to close f’me so I doubt it’s that.” He trails off, bombarding you with questions that warm your face again and you’re sure you have a fever at this point.

You huff out a hushed ‘fuck you’ to which he laughs.

He raised his fist up and starts pounding on the closed walk in door. His force is so brutal, he has to grab the handle to keep it closed as he hammers away at the door.

“That a promise?” is all he asks before he’s shoving the both of you out of the walk in, tripping over each other’s feet as you shoot him a confused look.

He ignores you, yelling out a loud “helloooo?” to the kitchen staff that just witnessed you two stumble out of the cooler.

Nobara rushes up, worry painted on her face as she grabs your wrists, stabilizing you as you catch your balance.

“Sir?” She mutters, looking just as confused as you were.

“We were locked in there for like, ten fucking minutes. No one noticed me beating the damn door down?” He yells. Your face grows redder as you look at Nobara struggle for a response.

“I-It’s fine, really. The handle just got stuck and he was too weak to get it open. He's kinda' useless,” which earns a laugh from more than just Nobara. Sukuna cuts you a look, flaring his nostrils as he’s walking off with a pout to his office. How pathetic.

You dust off your clothes, relieved to see there’s no more tickets printing off. Most of the remaining staff had started on their closing tasks while you and Sukuna were busy fraternizing in the walk in. Although Sukuna left with an attitude, you still couldn’t ignore the pool in your underwear and the ever-present pulse you felt throb with each tick of the clock.

-

The restaurant has mostly died down by now, with only a few lingering patrons at the bar and a couple or two still left in the dining area. Clean dishes were piling up on the right side of the sink and you were only left with the bare minimum cookware at your station. You see Sukuna walk into the lobby of the restaurant, not so subtly urging the remaining customers to leave. Most of the patrons pack up their things, only leaving a few stragglers behind.

-

By now, all of the wait staff had clocked out and left long ago. The clock read a depressing ‘2:23’ as you wipe down your workstation with a damp towel, sweeping the crumbs and leftover trash into the floor. Sukuna is busy finishing off the tills, counting the last of the register’s change. The dishwasher is finally packing his things, heading to the front computer to clock out with a tired ‘see ya’.

You were busy sweeping around your station, leading all the way to the walk in.

“Move,” he says, grabbing the back of your pants by the belt loop and pulling him behind you. You quickly look around to see if anyone noticed his touch, sighing with relief as you realize you two were the only ones still on the clock. He had a piece of paper in one hand, reaching up with the other to remove the thumbtacks from the old schedule on the bulletin board in front of you two. You glance at the schedule and your neck nearly cracks with how hard you do a double-take. You expected your usual 8-4, maybe some 9-5 shifts on the days you usually worked. But this new schedule has you scheduled for nights only. Conveniently, nights that Sukuna is the manager. You peer at the schedule, looking for the large, bold-printed ‘OFF’, and you see that you’re off in two days. You look at the top of the schedule, nothing that Sukuna’s ‘OFF’ day is the same day, too.

Sukuna had already started to walk off as you processed this new schedule. You take a step towards him, grabbing his forearm in an attempt to pull him back to you. His walk is so confident and assured that he pulls you almost an entire step forward before he turns on his heels, suddenly mere inches from your space. His proximity has you at a loss for words, mouth agape as you search your mind for whatever it was you were about to say.

“Yes?” He asks, a slight tug at the corner of his mouth daring to turn into a smile.

“U-uh.. sorry, why did you schedule me for n-nights?” You mutter, spiteful at how the words seemed to die in your throat.

He takes a step back, releasing his arm from your gasp as he straightens his tie, giving you room to finally breathe.

“Well, you’ll be glad to know that the employee that called out earlier has the flu.”

“But-“ you try to interject.

“She won’t be in the rest of the week, and how you’re looking at me right now tells me you’d like to be here with me again tomorrow,” is all he says before he’s returning to his office, crumbling up the old schedule as he’s closing the door behind him.

You clear your throat, trying to regather your dignity as you continue sweeping. You were frustrated with how much of an affect he has over you in the short amount of time, but your interactions throughout the day has left you craving more of his presence. His touch still lingers on your skin, reminding you just how often he had touched you during the shift.

You start to gather the trash in the dustpan, standing up to turn around to Sukuna leaving his office. Your breath hitches in your throat as he walks out in nothing but a black tank top, silver chain adorning his neck. You have full view of his numerous tattoos trailing down his arms, over his shoulders, even some that look like they might reach down his chest. He was walking to lock up the front as you finished sweeping and mopping. You grip the broom tighter, trying to ground yourself. Your body temperature was higher than usual and your hands were so sweaty. It felt all too hot in the restaurant, even hotter than it felt with the rest of the kitchen staff on the clock, ovens and fryers ablaze. You take a deep breath and lean the broom against the wall, heading for the back door. You needed some air and being in the same building as Sukuna made you feel like you had to fight for breath.

The cool air instantly calms your nerves as you walk to the side of the building, leaning down to put your hands on your knees. You take a deep breath, running your sweaty palms on your jeans. You had to get yourself together, you tell yourself over and over again. Regardless of how good he looked, how… intrigued he made you feel, you were stuck with him for the rest of the week. You couldn’t take a smoke break every time Sukuna cut his eyes at you or let his hands invade your personal space. While you couldn’t lie to yourself like you didn’t enjoy it, you’re still a grown woman that wouldn’t be caught dead melting under another man’s touch so easily. You preferred things the other way around, enjoying the power you felt when you -

SLAM!

A loud, resounding boom echoed through the parking lot as Sukuna crosses your peripheral, two full, black trash bags slung over his shoulder. He fails to notice you around the side of the building in the dim light before he reaches the dumpster, flinging both heavy bags into the can with ease.

He startles slightly as he sees you, fully expecting you to be inside the restaurant finishing your sweeping. You were too busy admiring him to process that the door had slammed. As in, shut. As in, no way to get back into the building unless Sukuna has the keys, shut. You both seem to realize your grim fate simultaneously, eyes widening as you scramble to find the answers you both needed. You take steps towards him as he’s rushing to you, frantically searching his pockets.

“Please tell me you have the keys-“

“Since when are you outside?”

“Do you not have the keys? How are we supposed-“

“You were supposed to be inside, y/n,” he interrupts yet again, turning out every pocket in search of the large loop of miscellaneous keys. His face is flushed as he peers down at you, obviously embarrassed he was so foolish to trust you’d be inside the restaurant and irresponsible enough to leave the back door without the keys in hand.

He sighs as do you, unsure of what step to take next. He starts pacing, hands running through his hair as he searches for a solution. You gasp quietly, searching your pockets and praising god your phone was still on you. You rescind that praise when you realize that was the only one of your belongings you had. No keys, wallet, purse, anything. In your panic, you rush to the back door, putting all of your body weight into twisting and pulling the handle. It’s locked without a shadow of a doubt, but Sukuna still shoves you to the side as he attempts to open the door. Although his strength seems incomprehensible, he still struggled to open the door. Every muscle in his arms, back, and chest were rippling and contorting as he fully leans back with force in an attempt to rip the door from its hinges. Nothing.

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” You ask, dumbfounded at the predicament you’ve gotten yourself in.

He huffs, leaning against the wall beside you as he puts his hand into his pocket, still silently hoping the keys would magically appear.

“What all did you have left in there?”

“Uh, just the sweeping and mopping. Did you finish the tills?” You ask, trying to assess the damage that the morning shift would be subject to.

“Yeah, yeah all my shit’s done, just had to do the fuckin’ trash. Shit.” He curses, rubbing his face in his hands.

You hadn’t realized just how close you two were now. There was still plenty of breathing room between the two of you, but as you both lean against the wall, his arm brushes yours and both of you linger at the contact, consciously continuing the skin on skin exposure.

Sukuna had plenty of plans that were so rudely interrupted by the stupid fucking door. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and how your hands felt on his length, how you looked up at him, hopeful that he would do something more to you. He had plans of ravishing you in the restaurant - partly to boost his ego, and partly to have you reminisce on the experience each time you walked into the building, with or without him. But all plans were effectively crushed as soon as that back door shut.

“Do you not make it a habit to keep the keys on you? Like, at all times?” You ask, confused as to why he would leave them sitting around anyway.

He turns to face you, rolling his eyes as he does so.

“No, I don’t keep the thirty-pound key ring on me at all times. You’re the one that came out here without letting me know!” He adds, throwing his hands in the air, trying to find anyone to blame except himself.

You scoff, surprised he was trying to turn this on you, “Well I needed some fucking air. You want me to tell you every time I go to the walk in or the bathroom, too?”

He laughs, offended, “You need to tell me when you leave the premises. The premises being the inside of the restaurant.”

You start to respond before he’s interrupting you per usual, closing in on your space as he places his right hand to the side of your head, leaning it on the wall to face you directly. You avert your gaze, embarrassed at how meek you felt when he looked at you in this way. But you knew he wanted you, at least in some way - that you knew for sure.

“Why did you need air? Closin’ too much for you, huh little baby? Can’t handle all that… responsibility?” He asks, making your knees almost buckle. Sure, girl was one thing, but baby?

But you still had to hold your ground.

“I am perfectly capable of closing, thank you. I needed a break from you,” you admit, not realizing how harsh it sounded until after you spoke it.

And he is appalled. With the way you were acting, you seemed like a break was the last thing you needed.

“A break? From me? What makes you think that, hm?” He asks as you still avoid his gaze, eyes glued to the way his chest moved in an even, up-down motion as he took steady breaths.

“W-Well, I -“

“Uh uh. Look at me when you speak, y/n,” he commands, taking just his pointer finger to draw your chin up to him, meeting your eyes with his.

“I-I dunno’, you just make me feel… weird? Not bad weird, just… different,” You admit, trying to say anything but ‘you make me wet’. Your response makes him chuckle.

He reaches his hand towards your forehead, prodding it with an exaggerated poke as he asks, “Do I make you feel weird here?”

You smile, furrowing your brows as you let out a simple ‘no’ with a shrug. He nods in understanding, motioning for you to follow him as he grabs your wrist. He pulls you around the side of the building, in an area much darker than previously. You look around as your back meets the wall, noting how the only visible cameras were pointing at the spot you two just occupied. Sukuna moves closer to you, leaving multiple points of contact between you two as you mentally count them all - how his knee is between your legs, how his hand that was on the wall before is now back, but much closer to your head, resting somewhat on your shoulder, how his other hand has now left your wrist, being replaced on your hipbone. His thumb presses in, harder than you think he realizes, and with how pent up you’ve been feeling it takes a great deal of strength not to ravish him on the spot.

He leaves his hand there for a brief moment before he takes the same thumb and slides it along your stomach, stopping when he reaches your navel. His thumb shifts only an inch downwards before he presses into the squish underneath your belly button multiple times, akin to a doctor feeling for abnormalities.

“If it’s not your head… is it here?” He asks with a particularly hard jab for emphasis.

“I make you feel weird in your tummy? Hm?” He finishes with a smirk, now soothing his pokes and prods with gentle circles traced with his thumb.

If you thought you were plenty wet earlier, you had no idea what this type of touch would do to you. He wasn’t even touching you anywhere important yet, leaving you stuck trying to suppress even a hint of a whine from escaping. Your clit was pulsing with your heartbeat which was at an all time high. It’s almost as if Sukuna realizes this as you do, chuckling as he moves his two fingers and thumb up to your neck, wrapping around it slightly as he searches for your pulse. Worry flashes across his face for but a moment before he’s laughing again, removing his hand before he reiterates his question with a simple ‘yes or no?’.

“A-A little, yeah,” you admit and your breath hitches at his response.

His voice was darker now, barely audible over the hum of the street light.

“Oh, I see,” he says as he dares to reach his hand lower, impossibly lower. You refuse to let your eyes trail, instead relying on the feeling of his single fingernail scraping through the outside of your clothes before he stops at your belt.

He catches you off guard, moving a mere inch away from your face as he cups your jaw, pulling you into a hot, open-mouthed kiss. You barely have time to react, kissing him with your eyes widened in shock. He pulls away too quickly, only allowing you to taste him for a short second before he continues his diagnostics.

‘S’not your head, not really your tummy,” dragging out the vowels in ‘really’ to make you wait another second longer.

His hand cups you through your pants, immediately rubbing small circles beneath your mound, stimulating your clit so roughly with the seam of your jeans you have to grab onto his arm for leverage.

“Must be your cunt causin’ all these problems,” he finishes as he meets your lips with his again, all tongue and teeth - which was a necessity for the both of you at this point. The tension that built slowly throughout the night had left you both eager for one another, and it was obvious with how frantic you were for him, whining as you throw your other arm over his shoulder to bring him even closer than he already was. You feel his now half-hard length push into your upper thigh before you reach your hand down to play with the hem of his pants. His abdomen clenches under your touch, rigid muscles flexing enough to be noticed through his tight shirt.

His hand that had found place in your hair tugs lightly as he pulls away from your lips, instead kissing along your cheek towards your ear.

“I thought this was all about her,” he whispers, pushing his two middle fingers harshly into your clit for emphasis, rubbing down firmly on your bundle of nerves as you threaten to fall apart.

“But now you wanna’ be greedy again? You already got to touch me once, y/n,” and you can hear the smile on his face as he says it, “If she’s the one makin’ you feel weird, maybe she’s the one that deserves my attention, yeah? Don’t you want me to make her feel better?” He says, swirling his tongue on the shell of your ear before biting your lobe, playfully pulling it until it snaps back into place. He knows your answer without hearing it, even before the furious nod of your head in agreeance.

He has you so pliant, so willing underneath him. You can’t resist bucking your hips into his hands when he fiddles with the buttons on your jeans, unzipping your pants ever so slowly before he has his mouth on your neck again, sucking and leaving marks that’d be sure to stay for days.

In the suspended unzipping, your mind wanders to the last time you’ve had sex with someone. It had been so many months, you weren’t sure if you remembered who it was. You cared less and less about how things looked down there, shaving every now and then when you got the urge. Which leads you to your current predicament.

“S-Sukuna, I.. I haven’t shaved. In like, a-a week or two,” you stutter quickly, trying to get the words out before he discovers on his own.

His fingers dip beneath your panties regardless, palm flattening against your lower stomach to reach down towards your heat. He lets out a grunt as he finally makes contact with your mound, stating a blunt, “good,” in response to your previous admission.

His long, deft fingers reach further to part your slit, his middle finger running through your folds to gather your slick as he works hard to keep his eyes from rolling into his skull.

“Knew I wouldn’t need any spit, ain’t that right?” He coos, not expecting anything but a gasp from you as his finger makes contact with your clit, finally.

And by god, how have you never been touched like this before?

His fingers rub you so skillfully, even better than you were able to. You were no stranger to masturbation, but the way his fingers felt on you now was unlike anything you’ve felt before. He circled your clit with planned, assured movements - if the smug look on his face wasn’t enough to show you just how confident he was in his ability to please you. His touch was perfect - no movement too under or overstimulating. He was so carefully bringing you closer to your peak with each intoxicating circle, steadily building his pace as he watched you fall victim to your pleasure with each passing moment. His lips are latched to your chest now, his other hand undoing just enough buttons so he can grab you properly without your pesky clothes in the way. He pulls your restrictive sports bra down with a harsh tug, freeing your tits for only a second before his mouth is latched to you, pulling and sucking at your nipples.

“Can’t believe - mmph, you’ve been.. hiding these from me,” he says, entranced at how the light hits your chest as it heaves up and down, your frantic breathing becoming more erratic and choppy, signaling your oncoming breaking point.

“K-Kuna, I’m -“ you try to warn him that you wouldn’t last much longer until your breath is ripped from your lungs.

“How cute,” he says, chastising the nickname you gave him. In one fluid motion, he takes his two middle fingers and slides them down and inside of you, replacing his thumb on your clit, quickly continuing the dizzying circles on your bud as he pumps into you - one thrust, then another, and you lose it entirely as he clamps down on your nipple with his teeth. You look down at him, making brief eye contact before involuntarily letting your eyes roll back, your lip pinched between your teeth as you succumb to the pleasure he so expertly gave you.

He looked surprised that you were finishing so quickly, eyes wide when you look down at him as you clamp so tightly around his digits. You continue clamping around him repeatedly as you ride out your orgasm, becoming louder by the second before he kisses you again, attempting to stifle your moans from echoing in the vacant lot. With one final swipe of your clit he pulls his hand free, immediately backing away to suck you off of his own fingers, grunting once he finally gets a taste of you properly. As if on instinct, his hand snakes his way underneath your panties again to caress your pussy, rubbing his hand in sloppy motions to coat himself in your juices thoroughly. He pulls away again, licking his fingers one by one with an eager grin.

“Ever had a taste?” He asks, wiping his filthy mouth clean.

To be fair, you had, but you wanted to see what he’d do if you said no. So you did.

He responds by taking your chin in his still wet hand, lolling his tongue out as he ravishes you in an open-mouthed kiss. You return the gesture, tasting yourself from his mouth and you were shocked at how intoxicating it was. How intoxicating he was. You so desperately want to return the favor, and then some.

He has the back of your head grasped in his palm but you resist, trying to get the words out as he all but devours you, groping your tits and reaching a hand behind you to grab your ass in a large, firm hold.

“Can I - mmph, can I.. be greedy… now?” You manage to get out before you reach down to palm his length, to which Sukuna lets out a focused, long breath through his nose. He pulls away from you with a smirk, hips leaning towards your touch.

“Dunno’ if I should - mmh.. let you, hah. I wasn’t tryna’ make you cum yet,” he admits, looking down with a ‘phew’ as you hook your fingers tantalizingly under his waistband, pulling him closer.

“That was you trying to make me not cum?” You ask with a laugh.

“Not yet. Wanted to make you wait for it, but you’re too much of a brat to be patient. You've been one ever since you showed up tonight,” he says and to prove his point further, you grab him by the arms and spin the two of you around, gingerly pushing him against the wall. He makes a face like he’s unimpressed before he reaches to the back of his tank top to pull it over his head. You gawk at his musculature and even more tattoos that are revealed to you as he throws the shirt at your feet.

He reaches down to undo his belt, the loud clang of the metal sending chills down your spine. You look down at the shirt then at him, shooting him a questioning look as he looks like he’s waiting for something.

“For your knees, stupid,” he says and as if on command, you drop to your knees onto his shirt, placing your palms in your lap in anticipation. You subconsciously lick your lips as he unzips his pants ever so slowly.

He stops his movements, grabbing the top of your head to tilt it upwards at him, “If you’re that desperate, you can get it out yourself,” he says with a pat of your head. He leans back onto the wall further, crossing his arms over his cold chest as he waits.

You smooth your hands over the top of his briefs and across his happy trail, dipping your fingers below the waistband before you ask, “How long has it been?”

The question takes him aback as his breath catches in his throat. He tries to still his hips from pushing into your feather-light touch but it’s inescapable. It had been a while for him, too.

“A minute,” is all he offers before you reach up to press a wet kiss to his lower abdomen as you pull his briefs down over his length. You pull for so much longer than you assumed you’d have to; after what seemed like so many inches his cock finally springs free, lazily jerking up as it hits the cool air. If it wasn’t for the heavy mass, his dick would stand at attention in front of you. You grab him in your palm, shocked at the sheer weight present in your hand. His angry tip was beading precum as you slowly worked your hand up and down his shaft, sticking your tongue out below him to catch it before it drips.

He starts to speak before you interrupt him, “I’m gonna’ try to make you not cum, okay?” He peers down hungrily at you, cock twitching at your filthy words. You take his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue to gather the bittersweet precum before you start to suck. You feel as if you can only take a few inches of him before he’s already prodding the back of your throat, making you cough around him.

“Don’t wimp out on me now, woman,” he says, grabbing himself at his base with a squeeze, using his thumb to line himself up with your throat perfectly.

“You wanna take my dick then fuckin’ take it,” he adds, grabbing the back of your hair to tilt your head back and your chin up towards him. He hums to you a simple ‘relax’ as he slowly pushes his length further into your throat, stopping when he meets a resistance with a throaty groan that has you whining around him, too. He tried his best to keep quiet, but your watery eyes and furrowed brows looking up at him with his dick shoved down your throat made his resolve disappear.

“Breathe,” he commands as he slips out of your throat, leaving you a coughing, sputtering mess with your lips still pressed against his tip. You follow his lead, taking a deep breath in and out before he pulls your mouth open with a thumb on your chin.

“Deeper this time, yeah?” He asks, quickly shoving his length further than before, nearly balls deep into your throat as your eyes shoot open and you swallow on instinct, earning a breathy ‘fuck’ from the man above you. You breathe out slowly through your nose, focusing your mind on doing anything but gagging. You squeeze his thighs to anchor yourself, pulling back from him almost entirely with a gasp before you force your head down again. You feel your throat start to relax as you continue your slow back and forth motion, trying to take him deeper with every thrust into your mouth. His hips are bucking lazily now as he tries his hardest to be somewhat gentle. As gentle as a man can be with a hand gripping your hair and the other guiding his monstrously large cock into your wet heat.

“Hah, l-look at you. I’ll have that throat trained for me in no time,” he praises, admiring how incredible you look as you throat him, watching how the dim parking lot lighting illuminates you enough for him to see the noticeable bulge in your neck. He can’t help but thrust more powerfully now, seeing as you were already taking his dick with ease after such a short amount of time. You meet his thrusts with your hand wrapping around the remainder of his shaft, stroking what you couldn’t reach with your mouth.

You pull off from him and you swear he pouts, bucking into your continued stroking as you kiss his tip.

“Who says I need my throat trained for you? Who says this will ever happen again?” You ask, curious how he would react.

He laughs, biting his lip to hide the moan that nearly slips.

“Oh, s-so you don’t want me to fuck you?” And he had you there. You start to run your hand furiously over his weeping tip and the sudden increase in sensation has him buckling over, mouth agape as heaving breaths signal how close he is. You’re barely able to suck his tip again before he’s removing your hands, pushing you back to sit on your feet.

“Fuck..y/n, open up,” he says as he strokes his length meticulously, grunts leaving his mouth as his fingers run over the tip repeatedly, “gonna’ paint that - fuck, pretty.. fuckin’ face,” he manages, smiling with an almost pained look as you loll your tongue out obediently. He can’t warn you any further before he’s cumming, white hot liquid pouring into your mouth as you jump in surprise at the sheer volume. With each spurt he’s moaning, strings of profanities leaving his lips as he sees white. You reach your hand up to finish the job, giving him a few final strokes before you suck on his tip a final time, swallowing his gift for you with a smile on your face. You wipe the remainder of your face with your sleeves as you stand to your feet.

“Come here,” he says, drunk on the feeling still as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss.

You pull away, “Now what?”

He chuckles, “hah, we go home,” he says, checking his watch that reads a depressing ‘3:17’, “unless you need my dick that bad.”

While you did actually need his dick that bad, that wasn’t the problem bothering you in the moment.

“Sukuna, I don’t have my keys. Just my phone,” you offer. He reaches down to dust off his shirt before he puts it back on. He motions for you to follow him as he grabs his keys out of his pocket.

“Guess you’re getting what you want after all.”

(pt. 2 in the works)

[billieshrry]

Every Breath You Take • B.E.

Part 2! Part one here

Summary: idk read part 1 first

Warnings: psycho!billie, murder, violence, no smut but sexual tension

A/n: eh idk how i feel ab this but i might lowkey make this a series cus i love writing psycho!billie its so fun. PLS comment if you would be at all interested in that!!

If nobody is gonna read it I’m not gonna plan out a whole series so either leave a comment or leave an anon or something! Also i like that attention so everyone should comment or leave an anon anyways 😊

It had been 2 weeks after your boyfriend died. 2 weeks of confusion and sadness. 2 weeks of you being horrified of what happened and if you were next. The police found his body in what they said was “the most gruesome and awful” condition. The thought that someone could do this was terrifying to you. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that someone could do this to another human. You were grieving.

The only person that seemed to understand was your neighbor, Billie.

When you got the news of his passing, you were outside watering your flowerbed. Immediately you broke down, sobbing loudly in your front lawn. Embarrassing, yes, but you couldn’t help it. Billie happened to be outside working out. It’s like she was always there when you needed her most, you thought. She saw you crumble to the ground and quickly took her headphones off, running across the street to your aid.

“Hey, hey, baby what happened?” You hear her behind you, her hands on your shoulder. Her thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder blades. You were able to stutter through your cries that the police had contacted you.

You told her your boyfriend had been murdered.

You heard Billie sigh, and then she leaned in to kiss the top of your spine.

“I’m so sorry, angel. Let’s go inside, hm? I’ll make you coffee. You need to relax.”

So you let her bring you inside, let her fix you up a cup of coffee and some snacks, and you both sat on your couch, turning on the news to see if there was anything about the murder. You snuggled up into Billie’s arm, unable to sit alone to watch it.

You couldn’t be alone. You needed her. You needed Billie.

So when the news said there were no leads, and it seemed to be so animalistic that they thought wolves could’ve done it, Billie snuggled you tighter.

She knew she wouldn’t get caught. She’d been pulling this off for years. Why would they get her now? And even if this matched the M.O. from her past murders, she’s in a new state, a new town, and it had been 2 years.

Plus, they always blamed it on the animals in the woods. That’s why she always picked rural places to move to.

So while you used Billie to cope for the next few weeks, you really started to fall for her. She would scratch your back, comforting you when you were sad. You even opened up to her about your personal life. Your family, your job, even how your ex (can you say that now?) boyfriend was abusive.

Of course, Billie knew all of this already. She knew everything about you. But you didn’t need to know that. Instead, she’d hum, stroking your hair and telling you that you can trust her. And you could, because she was really starting to fall for you too. Everything was perfectly falling into place. Finally, she could have you to herself.

“Come over to mine tonight.” Billie said softly, leaving your house one morning after you made her pancakes and hot chocolate. You smiled. You had never been to her house. You didn’t really think anything of it, you didn’t feel like she was hiding anything from you, but you were excited. You finally got to see more of her. It made you happy.

“I’m off work at 6, is that okay?”

She smiles, gently grabbing your face to kiss your forehead.

“I don’t want to wait that long, but I guess I will. Want me to pick you up from work?” You chuckle. How did you get so lucky? The girl was so sweet, she was perfect.

“If you want, but I don’t want you going all tha-”

Billie cuts you off.

“I want. I’ll see you at 6, angel.”

And so you went off to work, and she walked home.

And for the next 7 hours of her day, she did nothing.

She wondered her house way too many times, perfecting each picture frame and candle and dusting off every surface. She wanted you to love it there. She wanted it to be like another home to you. Finally, 5:00 came around. She went to get ready, showering and doing her hair. She changed her clothes, putting on something comfortable but stylish, and got into her car. You texted her the address earlier in the day, but she already knew it.

As she drives towards your work, she stops at a small drive thru coffee shop, getting you a little pick me up. She pulled into your job parking lot at 5:58, parked, and waited patiently. When she sees you come out of the doors, she smiles to herself. Even when you were exhausted, you looked beautiful. As soon as you get in the car, you spot the coffee Billie got you, and you can’t wipe your smile off of your face.

“Thank you Billie, I had a really bad day.”

Billie’s heart clenches.

“Wanna talk while I drive us home? I’m all ears for you.”

And she really was all ears, turning down the music as you rant about some shitty coworker who made your life a living hell. It wasn’t that bad, but after the past few weeks, it was really your final straw. Billie doesn’t say anything, she just listens and nods her head after every few sentences.

“But, it’s okay though, ‘cause now I’m with you!” You say, smiling with your teeth on full display. Billie looks at you, and she feels her heart race.

“I’ll make your day better, sweetheart. Just wait ‘til we get home.”

As soon as you two walk in the door and you set down your purse on her kitchen island, you admire her house. It really is beautiful. It feels so homey; the family photos, pictures of her childhood pets, her and friends on various vacations. You walk around, taking in all of the plants she had scattered around, and all of the color that she used while decorating.

“You like it?” She asks, standing by the table.

“It’s gorgeous. You really have a knack for interior design!”

Billie just chuckles and walks up behind you, gently putting her hands on your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“Wanna get a bit more comfortable?”

You turn around, smiling, and ask for a pair of pajama pants. She comes back with 2 pairs in different colors - one pink and one black - and a tank top for you as well.

“Take your pick. The bathroom to change is down that hallway and to the left.” She points.

You bite your lip, thinking about how she might react if you just changed in front of her. You know it’s not that crazy, I mean friends change in front of each other all the time, but you wanted her to know how you felt. You wanted her to know your body. You wanted her to think you’re sexy.

You wanted her.

As she turned to walk into the kitchen, getting something to drink, you turn your back to her. You start with your shirt, lifting it over your head slowly. You can hear the water coming out of the fridge, so you can’t tell if she’s watching yet. You slide the tank top on, and move to your pants.

You unbutton them, and then lean forward, slowly peeling them down your legs. You hear the water glass hit the counter harshly, making you jump.

“Couldn’t make it to the bathroom?” You hear Billie ask sarcastically.

“Thought you’d wanna see, I’m sorry.” You say shyly, not turning around but instead bending over farther, your ass on plain display in the cutest pair of heart-covered panties.

“Well, I never told you to stop.” She says. You can hear her pull out a barstool, presumably sitting down to watch you.

Billie’s head is spinning. She had no idea how dirty you really were. I mean, she watched you from the window, doing this exact same thing, but now that it was right in front of her? Truly for her? She was going to have an aneurysm.

You pull on the pink pajama pants, slightly jumping to get them over your butt. When you bend back down to pick up your clothes, you feel Billie’s presence behind you. She lightly traces her finger down your spine as you’re bent over in front of her, and you freeze. You feel her crotch connect to your ass. Her finger goes all the way down to the waistband of your underwear, and she toys with it, lifting it so it snaps back down onto your sensitive skin. You jump.

“You’re so pretty.” She whispers. She hears your breath pick up.

“You think so?”

“I know so, baby. Now let’s go watch a movie.” She pats your ass, making you yelp, and you hear her breathe out a laugh at the noise.

If it were up to Billie, she would’ve had you in about 12 positions already. But she wants to take her time with you. She wants to do it right. She needs to.

You both move to the couch, and you snuggle up next to her as she chooses something to watch. When you both decide on a show, you wiggle your head into her neck, and she lightly scratches your back and scalp.

The innocent noises you make from that drive her wild, but she knows you’re not doing it on purpose. Your hand rests on her thigh, rubbing circles with your thumb. Billie can’t think straight.

Well, actually, there’s one thing she can think straight about.

How she’s going to kill that bitch of a coworker that ruined your day.

You sigh in contentment, happy with where your life has taken you. You have a sweet, sweet neighbor, who you might fall in love with. Who gets that lucky? You don’t even think she would hurt a fly. You watch her eyebrows twitch as she focuses on the show.

“I really like you, Billie.” You say softly, almost embarrassed. She turns her head and hums, either from not hearing you or because she wants to hear it again.

“I said, I really like you, Billie.” Your giggles soak into her brain, and she smiles.

“I really like you, too. You have no idea how much I would do for you.”

You giggle a little more and Billie squeezes your hip playfully.

“Well, then do it all for me!”

She looks at you, enamored by the glimmer in your eyes. She leans in, your foreheads touching. She can feel your heart beating out of your chest.

“Don’t worry baby, I will.” She whispers out before leaning in, gently capturing your lips in hers. Your brain turns to mush, her pillowy lips encasing yours. Your tongues mingle for just a second before she pulls away, leaving you breathless.

“Now, watch the show.”

So you do, not knowing that 4 days later, the girl driving you wild with a simple kiss would kidnap and murder your coworker so you didn’t deal with her bullying anymore.

You had no idea that Billie would drag her into the same basement, blasting old rap music this time, and carve the heart right out of that little bitch’s chest. She told you she couldn’t see you that night, she had her own work thing to attend with her brother, something about a studio.

It was hard for you to pay attention when the girl talking to you was so beautiful.

And it was hard for Billie to pay attention to your coworker in front of her, because all she could think about was your pretty little body, your bright eyes, and your smile.

But alas, she thought about the ugly whore in front of her long enough to kill her, hide the body, and clean up before she came over to your house late, telling you that she just got home from the studio and couldn’t go another minute without you.

“You’re really the sweetest, Billie. I mean it.”

She smiles.

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

And when the news blasted the story of the missing girl, Billie was the one you ran to. Billie was the one that held you tight, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings into your ears, telling you everything would be okay. She promised you that you would be okay.

Billie didn’t have to feign sadness, seeing you this sad was heartbreaking for her. She didn’t kill for you so you could be sad. She killed for you so bad people were out of your life.

She only wanted what was best for you! You knew that, you could tell that Billie really cared about you. She always wanted you to be okay, always asked about how you were feeling and how your day went. She was so caring, so passionate toward you.

You really might be falling in love with her.

A week after your coworker was “found dead in the woods, possibly by animals again,” the town went back to normal. You went back to work, with Billie dropping you off and picking you up every day. You thought you’d have to beg her to agree to doing it, but it was a lot easier than you thought. Not only did you just enjoy spending time with her, but you were scared to be alone. You didn’t want to die, not by the hands of animals or a crazy killer on the loose, whatever it was.

Billie agreed, saying it’s for the best if she keeps a watchful eye on you.

So on you two went with your lives, busy with each other and busy with yourselves. Work kept you occupied, unable to think too much about how two people in your life had vanished. And you kept Billie occupied, as she made mental notes of who you talked to, who you liked, and who you didn’t.

Specifically the last one on that list.

[ckret2]

✨⚠️ Wasting Away Again in the Goldilocks Zone ⚠️✨

If you're new here, this is one of those "human Bill in the Mystery Shack" redemption fics, you know the drill: Bill illegally escapes death via reincarnation; the Shack crew imprisons him til they can figure out how to kill him; but they won't, because Bill's gonna make friends with them and literally everybody else in town. Whether they like it or not.

Featuring!! The slowest redemption arc you've ever read; "human" Bill that doesn't decide being trapped in an alien body is fine; show-style episodic plot structure; individual plot arcs for characters you've never even cared about; so canon compatible we even include the dang coloring book; and so TBOB-compatible over a year before TBOB came out that I'm considering taking up a position as the Oracle of Delphi just so Apollo stops barraging me with dodgeballs.

New chapter every Friday, 5pm CST! Yes, that includes this Friday!

For art, doodles, upcoming scene excerpts, and posts about characterization & plot plans, see my #bill goldilocks cipher tag. For the fic itself, the first few chapters are on AO3, but tumblr's 60 chapters ahead:

⛓️ 1 Part 1. Bill returns, in a bedsheet toga.

⛓️ 1 Part 2. Bill tries to murder the Stans & Soos (with time travel).

⛓️ 2. Dipper and Mabel save the day (with time travel).

⛓️ 3. A tense evening as the Pines prepare to get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 4. Plot twist: the Pines physically can't get rid of Bill.

⛓️ 5. The gang goes to a diner at 3 a.m. for hostage negotiations.

⛓️ 6. Bill escapes from Theraprism. [NEW!!!]

⛓️ 7. "How'd Bill get here" flashback; plus, entering his new prison.

💇‍♀️ 8. Bill gives himself a haircut and depression.

💇‍♀️ 9. Bill & Ford grudgingly have a sincere conversation; regret it.

💇‍♀️ 10. The kids decide Bill won't ruin their summer. Also: Pacifica!

📓🔺📓 TBOB BOUNDARY: Everything above this line has been edited for 100% compatibility with The Book Of Bill and posted to AO3! Everything after this line has not been edited... so it's only 98% TBOB compatible. 📓🔺📓

🧚 11. Mabel gives Bill the most beautiful makeover ever. (It's not.)

🧚 12. Pacifica advertises Harry's Hairy Fairy Formula. Bill wants it.

🧚 13. Pacifica refuses to share; the twins discover its side effects.

🧚 14. Mabel wins Bill's eternal friendship with arts & crafts.

💭 15. Bill, Ford, and Dipper have nightmares that are Bill's fault.

💎 16. Ford has a fun day with Mabel but everything goes wrong.

💎 17. The day goes right again thanks to healthy communication.

🎥 18. Mabel's Guide To Local Animals, co-starring Bill Cipher.

🧊 19. Wendy snoops into the weird things happening in the shack.

🧊 20. Wendy meets the weird thing (it's Bill).

🎂 21. Stan & Ford's birthday party! Bill gives evil gifts.

💭 22. Bill "helps" Dipper's nightmares; no one knows his motive.

👁️ 23. Bill's ex is back in town and nobody's happy about it.

👁️ 24. Everyone's even less happy to learn Bill has a sex life.

🧿 25. Mabel and Bill make friendship bracelets! :)

🧿 26. The Pines take Bill to the mall. He wears terrible things.

🧿 27. Bill breaks Mabel's heart (and panics to fix it).

🏳️‍🌈 28. Bill talks his way into going with Wendy to Rainbow Club.

🎃 29. Bill contacts the Henchmaniacs on Summerween morning.

🎃 30. Costume making. Mabel pries into Bill's past, with crayons.

🎃 31. The Trickster's pals trick-or-treat; and Bill terrifies Dipper.

🪮 32. Dipper & Mabel make a poppet to control Bill.

🦷 33. Stan takes Bill to the dentist. In handcuffs.

🦷 34. Dentist & tooth fairy attack. Stan & Bill are still handcuffed.

🦷 35. Bill & Stan reach a painful understanding and stop the fairy.

🛁 36. Anime night; and Mabel makes Bill do community service.

🛁 37. Bill plots escape and runs into Wendy. Dipper panics.

🛁 38. Bill has the worst and stupidest day of his afterlife.

🌅 39. A cultist finds Bill; Bill tries to re-recruit Ford.

🚙 40. Gideon broadcasts car commercials; invokes Bill's wrath.

🚙 41. Bill apologizes for bullying Gideon. lol no he blackmails him.

🌕 42. Bill tells Dipper secrets of the universe; predicts an eclipse.

🌖 43. Gravity is disappearing; Ford and Fiddleford investigate.

🌗 44. Ford & Dipper drag Bill hiking; Bill faces his death.

🌘 45. Ford demands answers Bill can't give as totality looms.

🌑 46. Totality. Bill decides whether Ford lives or dies.

🌒 47. Bill feels rotten but finally explains the eclipse.

🌓 48. Bill has a complete mental breakdown.

🌔 49. The gang limps home. (Plus: a second dimensional eclipse.)

💿 50. Bill finally processes that mental breakdown.

💿 51. Dipper and Mabel try to remember the Axolotl's poem.

📖 52. The gang reads Flatworld. Bill isn't thrilled.

📖 53. Mabel tries to get Bill to talk about his home world.

⚛️ 54. Dipper, Ford, and Fiddleford do paradox physics.

📖 55. Mabel learns college-level geometry.

📖 56. Mabel & Bill have fun; Dipper & Ford prepare for murder.

💀 57. The execution of Bill Cipher.

💀 58. Everything you wondered about how Bill escaped.

💀 59. Everything you didn't wonder about how Bill escaped.

💀 60. Everything you never imagined about how Bill escaped.

✨✨ THE APOXOLOTLYPSE ✨✨

🪐 61. The Axolotl finds the second dimension's corpse. ✨

🪐 62. The 2D massacre is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 63. A building inspection in the Nightmare Realm.

🪐 64. Even when Bill fixes things he breaks them.

🪐 65. A shape meets Bill as the world burns.

🪐 66. The gods & Bill negotiate him leaving Dimension Zero.

🪐 67. The gods deal with Bill not leaving Dimension Zero.

🪐 68. Bill is so much worse than the Ax thought.

🪐 69. THE END: the gods and Bill settle into a new status quo.

📙 70. Soos vacuums the attic (wow exciting)

📙 71. Soos decides how he feels about Bill's treatment.

📙 72. Fixin it with Soos: home redecorating!

🎥 73. The gang makes plans for the night.

🎥 74. Dipper's Guide to the Fremont Nightwigglers

🎥 75. Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers

🎥 76. The aftermath of everybody pulling all-nighters.

🏖️ 77. Beach episode! The Pines fish! Bill tans!

🏖️ 78. Bigfoot, Agent Powers, and the cool teen gang.

Hey!! I posted chapters 61-69 AFTER this chapter, so if you've been reading along and HAVEN'T seen those yet, go back and make sure you've read them!

🏖️ 79. A post-fishing trip evening. The calm before the feds.

🕴️ 80. The government investigates the Mystery Shack... again.

🕴️ 81. What are they gonna do about the feds??

COMING SOON:

🕴️ 82. They're gonna seduce the feds.

The chapters have been renumbered!

Chapter 61 about the destruction of Bill's dimension was scheduled to post the week TBOB came out, so I skipped it and posted chapter 62 with Soos. By the time I rewrote chapter 61... it was 9 chapters long. I've now renumbered all the chapters to squeeze in ch 61-69.

This post was last updated December 27, 2024! If you're seeing this post as a reblog and it's been a while since then, check back on the original post to see if more's been added!

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[winwintea]

stop posting about BALLER - zhong chenle

PAIRING ↬ boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader

GENRES ↬ pure crack idk... fluff, romance, some angst if you look in between the lines, chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ↬ inspired by a fic i read on ao3, a tiktok i watched where op got mad at their boyfriend for having headphones in while making out, plus my post here. and also chenle's recent fanboying activity in la. ignore the title its a placeholder for now, in honor of my dear friend @syatchy london stop writing for chenle challenge

WORD COUNT ↬ 1.3K

Everyone had their hobbies. You knew your boyfriend liked basketball, you just didn’t realize he liked it that much. 

Making it your life’s goal to win over the heart of Zhong Chenle, you spent countless hours studying quizlet flashcards, watching a couple of basketball games, even trying to learn the sport as well. Although you were surprised when it didn’t take more than a few dates for you to begin dating. 

Your best friend Ning Yizhuo, on the other hand, had other ideas. 

“I just think he’s a big red flag. Who the hell puts “I’m always ballin’” as their twitter bio?” She’s sprawled across your bed, mindlessly stalking your boyfriend’s social media accounts. “What if your man loves another man more than he loves you?” 

You’re paying her no mind, working on a basketball basics test on your laptop. Eight teams from each of the league's two conferences qualify for the playoffs. The top two teams play each other in the conference finals, to determine the Conference Champions from each side. The winners then play in the NBA Finals. 

Yizhuo suddenly stands up, “Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you ignoring me?” You’re about to answer your next question, until she starts waving her hands in your face.

“What the hell, Yizhuo?” You turn around annoyed. “I was locked in!”

“Studying for basketball is crazy… Just warning you Y/N. Don’t come crying to me when your boyfriend calls you Stephen Curry’s name instead of your own.” 

You punch her in the shoulder, “I swear to god-” 

But Yizhuo seemed unfazed by your attacks, continuing on, “I’m just saying from experience hon. Sports guys like him will never love you as much as he loves his balls.”

“Um.. that’s what she said.”

—

Despite Yizhuo’s warnings and what she seemed so sure of, you and Chenle clicked in a way that none of your exes ever did. If he invited you to the gym, you’d show up with a yoga mat, pretending to do Pilates while sneaking glances at him bench pressing. If Chenle said he was hungry, you’d learn how do use a frying pan, determined to whip up something edible. And if he asked you to come over, you’d throw on your best outfit, adding an extra touch of appeal, and never forget to bring a treat for Daegal.

Spending time with Chenle was easy. It seemed almost too easy, that you began to slightly question why everything seemed so perfect. 

If there were any red flags like Yizhuo pointed out, it was probably too small to see in the mix of fun times you spent together.

Times spent together usually and often ended with the two of you cuddling or making out on his couch. 

Unsurprisingly, Chenle was a really good kisser. Plus, he was good at cuddling. You had no doubts in that moment you laid eyes on him, but everything was certainly up to expectations. He knew exactly how to hold you in his arms and make you feel like you were on top of the whole damn world. 

As you leaned in closer for another this time, your hands running through his hair, you took notice of his features. His incredibly sharp jawline (mewing tutorial when?), the flushed pink splashed across his collarbones up to his cheeks, and now that he grew out his hair longer, it was much harder to see the shape of his ears-

Hold on.

You blink and then squint your eyes for a couple of seconds, hoping you’re just imagining things.

“Chenle. Are those Airpods?”

Chenle immediately pushes you off of him and then freezes.

You see every single emotion flash through Chenle’s eyes, but he’s still speechless. You’d honestly thought you’d been through the entire spectrum of men in your life, from guys who had memes tattooed on their chest to guys who brought their mother to dates to guys with an extremely interesting savior complex, but nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Relax. You still had your dignity to protect. “What… are you listening to?” Maybe he was into listening to music while making out, maybe some relaxing sounds people used to cope with traumatic intimate experiences??? You were thinking of anything at this point, trying to brace yourself for the absolute worse. 

“Highlights” Chenle begins, looking at you nervously, “For uh, for the Warriors game.” Before you can even process the info, Chenle rambles on, “We’re so so close to a wild card spot and I wanted to turn the game on earlier, but you were talking about your project you were working on and I really wanted to listen, and right now it’s not like we’re talking about anything important, so I figured it might be alright if I-“

what the fuck… yeah shut the hell up right now please, you think as he keeps rambling, and turn around to grab a pillow behind to smack this big headed shit right in the head. 

“Ow-“ Chenle throws his hands up in defense, trying to block the pillow that comes crashing down. “What? Hey!”

“Zhong Chenle. I’m going to chop your fucking dick off.”

—

In the end, Chenle’s dick remains intact. 

After letting himself get beaten up by a pillow, he manages to get you to calm down, taking the airpods out, which makes you a little bit happier than you were before. 

Chenle leaves you on the couch to take a shower, allowing you to ponder for a bit. Were you being too restricting this way? Chenle seemed to still care about you, and didn’t want to take away time from your own interests as well. I mean… maybe you needed to get into basketball as well to fully understand. 

As you lounge on the couch, scrolling aimlessly through Pinterest, you hear the faint sound of the shower turning off. Before you know it, Chenle slips onto the couch beside you, his presence warm and comforting. In one smooth motion, he curls himself around you, arms gently wrapping around your waist as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. The familiar scent of the shampoo you gifted him lingers in the air, blending with the soft warmth of his skin. 

Your mind's racing, caught between conflicting emotions. And damn, Chenle smells incredible, which really isn’t helping right now.

A minute of silence passes before he finally speaks, his voice soft but serious. “Look, I get if you’re uncomfortable. I didn’t mean to push any boundaries. If that was too much, I won’t do it again. And if this is something that’s going to be a dealbreaker for us, I get it—we can end things here.”

“No, wait—no,” you cut in, setting your phone aside to face him. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Okay, it was weird. You’ll give him that. Maybe his “casual” obsession with basketball wasn’t as casual as you thought. And sure, that might be a red flag for some.

But Yizhuo’s wrong. Maybe Chenle’s got a deeper connection with his basketballs than you or whoever she’s comparing him to, but at least he’s never moaned or called you Stephen Curry in the heat of the moment.

That’s gotta count for something, right?

Yeah, maybe this wasn’t so bad. You could get used to this. Besides, he already promised he wouldn’t do it again.

Your thoughts bounce back and forth, but after a while, you break the silence with a quiet, “Did you win?”

His head lifts from your shoulder instantly, excitement buzzing in his voice. “Yeah, we did! Secured our spot in the conference finals.”

Conference finals. Oh, right. You recognize that term—studied it on Quizlet like the good, supportive partner you are.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself, swallowing down the nervous lump in your throat. Chenle might be a bit obsessed with the sport, but he was supportive of your own goals and actually a really nice boyfriend. 

“Tell me about it.”

PERM TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @ldh0000

[honeytonedhottie]

honey's it girl magazine december edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the december catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. this months catalog has an article written by the LOVELY @osculum-frombee. i just wanna start off by saying THANK YOU all for supporting the magazine and my blog this year, this is theee it girls magazine and without further ado lets just get into it.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT ;

hey everyone! recently its come to my attention that a lot of you guys are advising me to create a sub stack account and so i did. on substack there will be a paid subscription to read the it girls magazine, BUT there are some things i want to tell u guys about regarding this magazine...💬🎀

WHAT ABOUT THE MAGAZINE ON TUMBLR? ;

you will still get an amazing it-girls magazine every month on tumblr absolutely free! the only difference between the it girls magazine on tumblr and the it girls magazine on substack is that on substack the magazine will be exclusive and include the following...💬🎀

♡ early access

♡ downloadable issues

♡ subscriber shout-outs

♡ guest article opportunities if u want to write something for the magazine

♡ collaborations potentially 🙈

♡ longer articles in general so if u like the longer articles and if u wanna read more than the exclusive version is def for you

the it girls magazine on this platform will include the same content as the magazine on substack! except on substack it'll be more in depth and include perks mentioned above. its basically the magazine y'all get here, but upgraded ✨

WHY YOU SHOULD SUPPORT MY SUBSTACK ;

for just $5 a month, you’ll get all the extra goodies that make honeys it girls magazine even more special! think early access to issues, exclusive behind-the-scenes content, and fun extras like shopping guides and downloads. plus, your support means the world to me—it helps me keep creating the content you love and dream up even more cool stuff for you. it’s like joining our little vip club where you get all the insider perks and help the magazine grow! 💕

as of right now im still working out the kinks of my magazine on substack so for todays catalog you guys will be getting the exclusive version that way u guys can know what its like! if u have any questions at all ur welcome to ask in the comments/submit an ask. i hope to see you all there but until then enjoy the experience 💻🎀

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS TO BE GLAMOROUS ;

for this holiday season lets set the scene with "mariah carey’s “all i want for christmas is you”, your wearing a sparkly dress and looking as beautiful as you always do ✨ looking like the ultimate holiday dream! thats the energy that we wanna emulate during this holiday season and we’ll get more into that later on in this catalog. 

no but seriously, all i want for christmas is to be more fabulous and glamorous. as i was writing my christmas wishlist with my fluffy pink pen, i even made pink hot chocolate to set the mood (recipe will be shared later on) and i came to the realization that aside from the material aspects of a hyper feminine glamorous christmas, the vibe also needed to match. 

glamour is about the way that you carry yourself. so, while we’ll definitely be purchasing our holiday wishlists, make sure that we’re keeping up with our self care rituals and in fact, pampering ourselves more because we are FABULOUS and we should treat ourselves as such. now, lets unwrap all the ways you can dominate this season like the it girl you are. 

WHAT MADE YOU AN IT GIRL THIS YEAR ;

now that we’re in december i wanna track it back and do some reflection on our year just like we talked about in the november catalog. every it girl has her moments and im sure that this year has been full of them for you so just take a second to acknowledge your moments form the year. 

for me, my biggest moments this year include making the decision to take myself more seriously because, i feel like i take myself quite seriously already but i haven’t been applying myself giving myself my all like i KNOW i can so making that choice this year to truly step into myself was def my biggest moment. 

your it girl moments also dont have to be something necessarily ground-breaking, it can be as simple as you finding your signature scent (hint: if it smells like warm vanilla gourmand, it’s the one) or as ground breaking as reaching your health goals, getting on honor-roll for your school, or making big doll dollars! 💰💖💸 whatever it is, YOU did that. reflect and celebrate yourself. 

PINK HOT CHOCOLATE RECIPE ;

pink hot chocolate is the perfect winter drink! plus its super easy to make so im going to be giving the recipe here so that you can enjoy a cup of it while you continue reading the it girl magazine. put on ur hello kitty aprons and lets get straight into the recipe! you’ll need the following ; 

♡ 4 cups of milk ♡ 1/2 cups of white chocolate chips  ♡ 1 tablespoon of vanilla extract 

so what your gonna do is your gonna heat up 4 cups of milk in a pot and then add in ur white chocolate chips, mixing them together until smooth. then you’ll add the vanilla extract and the red food coloring and stir to distribute the color...💬🎀

i like to enjoy mine with whipped cream and pink and white mini marshmallows! now that you have your beverage we can continue on with the it girls magazine. 

HOLIDAY SELF CARE ROUTINE ;

one of my favorite things to do are over the top self care routines! i love to feel glamorous and girly and take good care of myself meticulously especially during winter break because its easy to just rot and fall into a lethargic haze so hopefully this holiday self care routine motivates you and gives you something to do if your bored.

use a holiday themed bath bomb from lush

use a deep conditioning hair mask, put your hair up and read a chic magazine (like this one, duh)

its all about the experience so light a yummy candle while your doing self care

use a foot scrub of brown sugar honey and lemon -> for extra glam paint ur nails

moisturize your body with a shimmery lotion so you sparkle like a holiday queen

bubble baths!!

WHAT THE IT GIRLS ARE LISTENING TO ;

one of my favorite releases this december has to be twice and megan thee stallions collar strategy! the song is so vibrant and bubbly and i absolutely loved the music video also. we can't talk about december music without talking about the queen of christmas herself miss mariah carey and her christmas album 'merry christmas' some songs from my christmas playlist are ->

♡ santa tell me - by ariana grande ♡ all i want for christmas is you - by mariah carey ♡ last christmas - by wham! ♡ doughnut - twice ♡ a nonsense christmas - sabrina carpenter ♡ december - ariana grande ♡ when christmas comes - by mariah carey and john legend

THE ADVICE COLUMN ;

Q ; “Hey, I recently bought almond oil but don’t know what to use it for. I have heard of using it for hair, skin, body, etc. but could you elaborate on it? Also if it’s ok with u could this be in your magazine which I love btw! Your the best!” 💬

A ; hi anonie! so almond oil is super duper versatile. you can use it in a hair mask for shine and hydration. you can add a couple drops to your body lotion for skin hydration. you can also mix it with sugar and make ur own homemade body scrub. from the research i did, its also great for cuticle care and soothing dry areas like elbows and knees. thanks for loving the magazine! 

DECEMBER TRENDS ;

i first wanna talk about the FASHION trends for december 2024 because it’s caught my eye. according to harpersbazzar “this season is all about daytime party clothes, o blood office attire, and updated english country classics.”

reoccurring themes in december fashion are all about finding ways to indulge in warmth and texture during the dark winter days. a texture that i’ve seen used a lot in december fashion is velvet and im going to talk about this a lot because it’s so super glamorous to me and resonates with me more as opposed to other textures that are trending like suede and corduroy.

velvet is so rich and perfect for december because of the cold weather. velvet to me just SCREAMS chic and luxurious. another texture i’ve always loved for the colder seasons is furs! miu mius first look from the fall 2024 fashion show set the stage for how popular chocolate browns are this month. chocolate brown is the chicest shade of cocoa ✨

december fashion also incorporates lots of layering because of the weather, but to master this you must layer FASHIONABLY. layering is so fun because we can really play with textures and colors. some tips to do this are as follows…💬🎀

mix textures to add dimension and interest

play around with proportions (for example big fur coat + tiny silky dress. or puffer jackets with a fashionable pair of jeans)

statement outerwear pieces!!

moving away from the fashion point of view on december trends, i wanna talk about the “can’t pay the mortgage” trend of december. so essentially you’d tell your significant other that you can’t pay the rent/mortgage, all while knowing that they have never payed for the mortgage. 

so naturally, the husbands after hearing this they’re confused and some even offended that their wife would even have to think about paying the mortgage. i think that this trend is really cute, and its a harmless prank and its really beautiful to see women in equitable relationships where they’re being taken care of and happy. I LOVE TO SEE WOMEN WINNN. 

HUNNY I CANT PAY THE MORTGAGE (BY THE LOVELY @osculum-frombee) ;

For December trends let’s go out with some advice that could better you in 2025, relationships. Let’s talk about love and expectations we all experience.

The perfect trend for this is the recent “Can’t pay the mortgage trend” where wives or partners tell their husbands they can’t pay the mortgage and see their reactions. This trend was originally done by 100% couples where the man paid all the bills in the household, or couples where the man paid half the bills (like the mortgage and perhaps something else) while the wife paid other bills but then 50/50 couples started participating in the trend and the differences in reaction was… shocking to say the least?

Reactions ;

The reactions betweeen the 50/50 men and the 100% men were obviously very different, but the question is just how different?...💬🎀

The men who paid most or all of the bills in the household almost immediately laughed or joked about their wife and how she doesn’t pay the bills anyway, some were confused and looked at their wife like “Babe..what?🤨” while some played along and pretend like they had no idea what they were going to do but reassured their wife they would handle it (my personal faves) 

While the 50/50 men would have a DRASTICALLY different reaction these men would either blank out or rage out at the idea their wife or girlfriend couldn’t handle it, the guys who blanked out asking their wife is she could take overtime or saying they didn’t know what to do while the ones who raged out went to cursing or degrading their wives. 

These reactions show perfectly what you do and DONT want in a relationship. The way your partner reacts and treats you is everything and there’s a difference between the way a provider would react and a stingy man would.

The trend isn’t about saying you should date a man who pays 100% of the bills if you don’t want to, or that all 50/50 men are trash. Like all things this requires PERSPECTIVE and knowing what  YOU personally WANT 

In times like this with the economy there are people out there who can’t do it with just one income alone, and that doesn’t mean you or your partner is a peice of crap for having to split the bills to make it...💬🎀

A provider man ;

You want to- no NEED to ensure that regardless of how much money your partner or you make, that whoever your dating is a provider man, who is more focused on taking care of you then you taking care of him, a problem solver who can save money for a rainy day, there are men out there who do 50/50 but ensure they take care of their partners, worship the ground they walk on and PROVIDE, do their best to take the stress off their partners shoulders while also taking care of household issues, men who put effort in emotionally and understand that relationships are a 2 way street, aren’t stingy about spending on their loved ones and treat their partners like the rare gemstone they are. THATS the type of man you want, whether  he be filthy rich with generational wealth or a man who gives it his all either way.

There are 50/50 men out there who save money and if their partner ever said they couldn’t do their part of the bills this month he would move mountains to ensure his partners stressed was alleviated and create a solution to the problem,  that could  be him working overtime or taking money out of the savings or covering that months expenses himself if he can, he wouldn’t yell or argue, or curse profanities , he would help and ensure they were taken care of. 

Emotional matters ;

There are men who may seem like the better choice, men who are rich and perfect on paper, but it’s not about how much money your partner has it’s how they react to the things they cannot buy. If you’re partner throws money and expensive bags at you without a second thought but when it comes to getting to know you and understand you, gaining your trust, talking through emotional issues and you trying to communicate to them they shun you out, get mad or dismissive then this isn’t the partner for you, wether you be man or women. You may think someone can buy things like your trust, effort, energy and genuine love but those are things that can’t ever be bought these things take experience, time spent with that person, arguments and makeups, it takes learning and growing to  trust that person to love them.  having a partner who doesn’t put effort in emotionally or mentally  isn’t having a partner at all it’s simply being occupied or “busied” by someone else who won’t put forth a real connection with you. 

What you want vs what you’re told to ;

I saw a video of a women saying her and her husband go 50/50 they use 1 salary for bills and expenses and use the other for savings, she said she likes it this way, she has her bachelors and her masters degree and chose not to quit working after becoming pregnant she listed points that were SO important

She mentioned how she liked having the fridge stocked, how she like vacationing whenever she wanted, she liked buying what she wanted and not struggling. The point I’m making is that it’s all about what you want and what feels right for you, but also about how your partner treats you. If you decide to  go 50/50 on the financial labor and are  with a man who doesn’t care about you or is very “dusty” you’re going to be unhappy and unfulfilled but its also the same if you’re dating a man who pays 100% yet still ignores every other need in a relationship like mental and emotional, youll be unfulfilled and unhappy. 

If you’re going 50/50 make sure you're dating a man who’s clean and willing and likes to help around the house, who can clean or cook and will put effort into all aspects of this relationship. If you want to work but be 100% taken care of and save the money you make or spend it freely it’s your life, if you want to be a stay at home mom or parent or just want to stay at home and be 100% taken care of it’s your life, if you want to have your fantasy “the way of the househusband” life where you work and pay all the bills and your husband stays at home, cooks and cleans and takes care of everything else than babygirl it’s your life and honestly rock it? 

It’s your life and it shouldn’t be curated to anyone else’s wants or expectations as long as you’re happy fulfilled, with a provider/ problem solver who will move mountains for you be happy. You’re not a roommate for going 50/50 when you’re truly loved and respected in your relationship and your partner  isn’t stingy. Whichever way you want your relationship to go make sure you find a partner who is on the same page and can give you that, don’t try to force a clown to be a king because then the entire kingdom will end up a circus, don’t chase or fight with a man who doesn’t want to give you what you want or doesn’t view you as worth it or cannot afford to, find a partner who is aligned in your ideas and values and is entirely pleased to provide you what it is you wish. 

The beauty of the trend ;

While some people do scrutinize women who are in a healthy 50/50 relationship or women who want to go to work and still be provided for. It’s not about that this trend is about showing women what’s possible, that providing 100% for a man will always lead to you being depleted and drained in every way possible, that the better and healthier relationship is out there and that there are men who would do anything to be with you and keep you and let their actions show as such not just financially but emotionally. Women have said that this trend has shown them their husbands or partners aren’t worth it and that it’s opened them up to a better way of living and has shown them their better off single than with a man who depletes them. 

This is about empowering women and I notice this trend goes hand in hand or is the sister to the “women in male fields trend” a trend that showcased women acting like men and talking about what they’d experienced with them, that trend was women saying they were done with that treatment and this trend is about showing women they can do better. 

Conclusion ;  

Going into 2025, focus on yourself- find out what it is you want.  

And if there’s anything you take away from this segment let it be that: 

It’s about what you want 

50/50 doesn’t make either of you bad

Better is always out there

You are the love of your life 

Thank you for reading my first ever segment in the It girls magazine💕💖

WHICH HOLIDAY IT GIRL AM I? ; 

are y'all ready to discover what type of it girl you are this holiday season? take this quiz to figure out which festive vibe suits your personality. lets see how ur sleighing this season…💬🎀

1. your ideal holiday party look is:

a) a sparkling, gold sequin-covered dress that’s sure to steal the spotlight 

b) a chic velvet jumpsuit with fluffy details and elegant accessories 

c) a fluffy sweater with a touch of holiday glam — think sparkly headbands and cute socks 

d) a glamorous satin gown in red or emerald green, paired with glamorous makeup and red bottoms

2. what’s your go-to holiday drink?

a) sparkling champagne or a festive glittery mocktail 

b) a warm, spiced apple cider 

c) pink hot cocoa with extra marshmallows, topped with whipped cream 

d) a luxurious holiday latte with hints of peppermint or caramel 

3. your favorite way to spend christmas eve is:

a) attending lavish holiday parties, and kissing under mistletoes 

b) enjoying a candlelit dinner with close friends or family, and watching cozy christmas movies 

c) baking holiday cookies and wrapping gifts while sipping on hot chocolate

d) getting all glammed up for a special dinner and exchanging glamorous gifts with ur girls

4. when decorating for the holidays, you:

a) i go ALL out with sparkly lights, glittery ornaments and a chic color scheme for pinkmas 

b) elegant neutral decor with touches of greenery, its classic duh

c) a cozy vibe with diy ornaments, fairy lights, and plaid everything 

d) love classic red, green, and white with vintage-style baubles for a traditional yet glamorous feel 

5. what's your holiday music playlist vibe?

a) mariah carey’s “all i want for christmas is you” on repeat 

b) classic jazz and soft holiday tunes 

c) cozy acoustic christmas songs and christmas movie soundtracks 

d) holiday hits that make you want to dance like wham and micheal bublé 

6. what's your holiday beauty look?

a) bold red lips, highlighter that shines like snow, and glittery eyeshadow 

b) soft, glowing skin with a natural glam look — think minimal but chic 

c) a cozy but cute look with a bright red lip and simple, glowing skin 

d) smokey eyes, dramatic lashes, think holiday bimbo

7. your dream holiday getaway is:

a) a glamorous snowy cabin retreat with hot cocoa and a warm fire, and complete with an evening of glitzy christmas parties

b) a cozy winter escape in the mountains with scenic views and a fireplace 

c) a festive city escape, with christmas markets, hot chocolate, and cozy cafes 

d) a luxurious tropical resort, giving beachside holiday vibe

results:

mostly a’s: the sparkling diva ✨ you’re all about the glam and sparkle this holiday season! from dazzling sequins to luxurious accessories, you know how to shine brighter than the christmas lights. you love the glitz and glamour of the season and aren’t afraid to make a statement — just like the holiday parties you attend!

mostly b’s: the elegant sophisticate 🥂 you bring class and sophistication to everything you do this holiday season. whether it’s a cozy dinner or a quiet night by the fire, you exude an effortless elegance. this holiday season, you’ll be enjoying luxurious simplicity — think velvet, classic red lips, and timeless decor.

mostly c’s: the cozy glam girl 💖 you’re all about warmth, coziness, and making the season special in your own way. whether it’s baking cookies, wrapping gifts, or cuddling up with your favorite holiday movies, you embrace all things festive and chic. this holiday, it’s about combining comfort and glamour for the perfect holiday vibe!

mostly d’s: the classic glamazon 💅🏼 you’re the definition of classic holiday glamour! whether you’re rocking a satin gown or glamming up your beauty look, you always bring sophistication and style to the season. for you, it’s all about elegant traditions, bold accessories, and a glamorous holiday look that can’t be ignored.

[dizscreams]

ETHAN WALKING IN ON YOU CHANGING FIC !!!

LETS DO IT!!! I’m not sure if you wanted this suggestive or fluff so there’s bothhh!

Accident — Ethan Landry ★

PAIRING: Ethan x fem!reader

A/N: we loveee dizzy being in her active era!!

All Ethan was trying to do was give you back the notebook you left in his dorm when you had come over to study the other day. He didn’t know you’d be half naked when he walked in. And plus he knocked! Twice! He’s never been so embarrassed, well he has, but this felt so much worse for some reason. Maybe cause he’s liked you for so long now and he’s dreamed of seeing you like that, but on other circumstances. Circumstances where it was intentional.

“Chad, I can’t face her. This is so bad, oh my god,” Ethan’s worried voice was muffled by his hands covering his face. His roommate wasn’t doing anything to help him either, he was just laughing in his face. “Dude! It’ll be fine, don’t stress it,” Chad said while slapping Ethan’s back. Ethan shot him a glare and continued to pace the living room of the apartment you shared with Sam, Tara, and Quinn. Anika was actually trying to help him, Mindy was making fun of him just like her twin was, and Tara was trying her best to help and not laugh at the same time.

There was no way he’d be able to look you in the eyes again. What did you think of him now?? Did you think he was creepy?? A perv?? Would you yell at him when you walked back in?? Tara put a hand on Ethan’s shoulder trying to calm him down, “I’m sure it’s fine, Eth-” Ethan shook his head, “Its not! It’s so embarrassing you don’t understand- I like her a lot and I was planning to ask her out soon but there’s no chance she’d ever say yes now. Oh my god, I can’t imagine what she thinks of me right now,” he rambled while he flopped on the couch.

Ethan’s hands were on his face again and he noticed how everyone went silent. He slowly lowered his hands and looked at everyone, but they were focused on something else. He slowly followed their gazes to see you standing right there. Oh no. Did you hear that? How does everything keep getting worse?Ethan’s face turned bright red and he didn’t know what to do or what to say. After a moment of silence and way too much eye contact he spoke up, “Did you hear that?” He wanted to wince at how small and weak his voice sounded.

“Hear what?” You asked with an innocent tone and a head tilt. But you definitely knew and he knew you knew. I mean you had to. He could read you like a book. There was a mischievous glint in your eyes and a ghost of a smirk on your pretty lips, the lips he wanted to kiss so bad. After another pause of silence Chad decided to put on a movie so everyone could calm down and have a chill little movie night. Ethan was extremely thankful his roommate had a good idea for once, hoping this would take his mind off of everything that just happened.

He was talking with Anika and was starting to relax until you called for him, “Hey Eth, you wanna help me get the popcorn started?” He froze. Why? He wasn’t sure. This was normal and you didn’t seem to be upset at him or anything. This was fine, everything would be fine. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbled as he stood up. He made his way over to you in the kitchen and you smiled at him. He did his best to smile back and watched you get the popcorn bag and put it in the microwave. He looked at what you were wearing, little pajama shorts and a T-Shirt. Then he remembered what you were wearing when he walked in on you, nothing but your underwear.

He’d be lying if he said thinking about you wasn’t making him flush pink and a little hard. “Ethan?” His head snapped to look at your eyes, not realizing he had been staring at your ass the whole time. “I asked if you would get two bowls out for me? Mindy and Anika want to share and Chad and Tara are sharing. I guess you could get three if you want to share with me.” He barely registered what you had said but got three bowls out quickly, wanting to drown out the dirty thoughts he had begun to think about.

It was then he realized he hadn’t apologized for barging in your room just under 10 minutes ago. He placed the bowls on the counter and glanced at you, but you were already looking at him. He cleared his throat, “Um I’m sorry- y’know about earlier. I didn’t mean to walk in on you, I mean obviously. It was an accident, I promise,” he said quickly. You giggled at the flustered boy and he tried his best to avoid your gaze, but he couldn’t. He looked at you and the look on your face and he smiled, the blush on his cheeks not leaving.

“It’s okay, Eth. I didn’t mind,” you told him with a slight smirk. His eyebrows raised slightly and you chuckled. You leaned in and his breath hitched, he didn’t know where this was going. Your hand snaked up his chest and all the way up to cup his face. You admired him for a second before you inched closer to him, making sure nobody else would hear you, “I was kind of sad you didn’t stay,” you said quietly. He didn’t understand. “What?” He asked matching your volume.

“Well all day I’ve been thinking about you.” Your hand was now touching his biceps. “I was hoping when you walked in you would’ve stayed and helped me out, been so needy for you all day,” you confessed while looking at him with big eyes. He thought he was gonna pass out. His cock was definitely hard now, now that he knew you thought of him like he thought of you. And you wanted him, you needed him, just like how he wanted and needed you. “Fuck,” he muttered. You were so close to him and all he wanted was to fuck you against the counter or kiss you, or touch you. Just something. But there were people around.

He couldn’t give a fuck less about a movie right now or that he heard Chad asking what the fuck was taking so long, all he cared about was you. You were intoxicating. “Can we go to my dorm?” He asked you suddenly, the tension getting too much for him. Ethan searched your eyes for any signs of disgust or discomfort, but he didn’t find anything like that. Your eyes were full of lust and want, and it was for him, all for him. “Yes please,” you grabbed his hand and left the kitchen. “We’re going, don’t wait up!” You rushed out the door with Ethan stumbling behind you, a dumb smile on his face.

LMAO it turned to me wanting it to be fluffy into smth suggestive im sorry 😔 fluffy fics comin soon I sweaaarrrr and I’m tired af so this is lazy I apologize but hope you enjoy regardless!