#band is tolerable in the school year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soufcakmistress · 9 days ago

Text

Distance

Pairing: Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Annie Moore

A/N: It's been a long ass time. Of course these beautiful Black people brought me out of retirement. Let's fucking gooooo

The sun shined bright in Clarksdale as Annie waited in line for the 8:30 train to Chicago. Her protections for her home had been set in her absence, as well as on her person with a powerful mojo bag she fed the night before. The Illinois Central Railroad had a straight route to the Windy City from Mississippi. Colored folk filled the train depot almost to capacity in their finest threads, packed to the gills with their prized possessions & family heirlooms, combined with enough food to last them the trip.

It had been four years since Smoke and Stack left everything they knew behind. Including her, and their child’s memory. Pain is not sufficient for what Annie felt. She really had no idea what she was doing there at the train station. Or what she’d hope to find when she arrived to Chicago. Or what she would do when she got there. Something had to be done. Energy had to be moved. She had to see Smoke for herself.

A handsome porter helped her with her bags and helped her to get settled in the colored section of the train. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized at all the different kinds of folks that were traveling for greener pastures. The Klan terrorized northern Mississippi in hopes of keeping Black people docile. The Black communities banded together for protection, and yet could not be moved by fear or intimidation. There were grandmothers with their adult children, young families with infants and toddlers running about the cabin full of energy, single people who didn’t have much more than the clothes in their backs. All looking to a new life away from Jim Crow.

Clarksdale to Memphis. Memphis to East St. Louis. East St. Louis to Springfield. Springfield to Chicago. She made sure to get some dirt from every stop of the route — sweeping her floors with railroad dirt from various places ensured constant flow of energy and resources to find her. She stepped off the train at the last stop and she couldn’t believe her eyes.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Annie tried to not look so much a slack jawed yokel but she had never been no further than Louisiana in her life. The skyscrapers towered over the sprawling city, the winding streets that were two lanes wide were bumper to bumper with fancy cars, and there was just so many people! How could Elijah find comfort in a place like this and not with her?

She needed him. She needed him in her bones. In her blood. They were each other’s safe haven. As children, they would meet each other at the crossroads of Route 16 and Candler Road for a respite from their hectic home lives. Smoke’s father was a drunk and abused him and the rest of the family incessantly. Annie’s mother was always away — working roots for folks, doing house cleanings and driving out haints, performing exorcisms. They were both 15 the first time they kissed and 17 the first time they were intimate. They were so young then, and blissfully ignorant at how life can be.

As they aged, they were still inseparable. Both didn’t have much formal schooling. Annie grew into her power — learning herbs and recipes and how to protect, provide and punish if need be. Elijah eventually grew tired of working in the fields. Him and his brother Elias, who was the epitome of hell on wheels, made a living robbing trains. Those boys began to make a name for themselves — especially when their abusive father mysteriously ended up dead. Stabbed in the chest with an ice pick. Annie knew the truth of the matter. Smoke and Stack were growing into young men — they couldn’t tolerate the abuse any longer.

Shortly thereafter, America got involved in the Great War. The draft came to Mississippi and Annie’s worst nightmare came to fruition. Smoke and Stack were conscripted and were set to ship out to Camp Jackson for basic training.

“Put this on your neck.”

Smoke rolled his eyes and begrudgingly took the brown mojo bag. He tied it around his neck and let it fall to his chest. “You know I don’t believe in all that mess.”

“And you don’t need to. This “mess” has been around longer than we could imagine and will be around long after we return to this earth. Just keep it on. For me.”

The boarding house Annie lodged in was Black owned in a neighborhood called Bronzeville. All kinds of fancy colored folks lived there in their pressed suits and pristine dresses hustling to their next destination, with little time to converse. She asked a few people about Smoke and Stack andwhere they hung out at. “Elijah and Elias? About six feet, pretty teeth, dimples. They hard to miss.” But no one could point her in the right direction.

Her trip was only supposed to be for a week. Yet four days had passed and not a peep from either one of the twins. Riding the bus along Cottage Grove, she couldn’t help but to overhear two young chaps’ conversation. “Billy done fucked up for the last time. He was slow with Luzzato’s money and Smoke and Stack left him for dead on the pier. I ain’t fuckin with them twins.”

Annie knew that the twins were okay with violence and confrontation— this was not new information to her. But working for the Italians? How did they get wrangled with them? And how did they manage to stay out of jail?

Apparently Paul Luzzato was one of Al Capone’s lieutenants who was a bit more open minded when it came to race than the rest of Capone’s family. The teens made mention of a club right in the neighborhood of the boardinghouse where she was staying. This was the opportunity Annie needed to get a step closer to closure.

The Lighthouse was a cool joint for colored folks on the southside playing nothing but Chicago and Mississippi blues. Lowlit with the fog of cigarette smoke hovering at the ceiling, Annie moved gracefully to the bar scoping out the scene. Beautiful Black men and women in their finest zoot suits and bias cut gowns drinking and carrying on — she felt a bit country and backwoods around all these fancy folks. Annie wondered if these colored folks all traveled from down south as well in hopes of seeking a promised land.

The house band played a good ol southern tune that made Annie rock and sway in her seat. A young stocky man tending bar wiped off a glass, looking in her direction. “Would you like a drink ma’am?”

“I reckon so. What’s a girl gotta do to get some moonshine around here?”

The barkeep fixed her up a glass of moonshine neat. That familiar burn went down so nicely.

“Nigga, if you don’t count this money so I can go. Couple bitches in there dying to get broke off by daddy Stack.” Smoke and Stack sat in a dimly lit storage room counting up their money from their protection runs for the day. Capone had sway over the whole city — any business that wasn’t a patron of the mob had to pay up for their own sakes.

“Pussy hound. Can we finish this business please?” Smoke sucked his teeth at his twin’s one track mind. To be fair, they had a long day and he wouldn’t mind a nice nightcap as he hears that guitar wail and moan.

Every dollar and cent is accounted for. Stashed safely in their massive safe built into the wall, they put their suit jackets back on and spread out into the fray. Stack went immediately to coat check to seek out this young filly who had no idea how mischievous he was. Smoke however, sat alone at his usual seat on the second floor overlooking the band. He nursed his whiskey and scoped out the room. The club was full to capacity, there were no fights at the moment, alcohol flowed — he would have a good report for Luzzato.

Smoke peered toward the bar and saw Rallo, the barkeep chatting up with a dark skinned woman who filled out her dress like no one he had ever seen before. Not in a long time anyway. Imagine his surprise when he stood up gazing over the balcony to get a good look….

“It can’t— it can’t be. She said she would never leave Mississippi.” Annie had had a lot more to drink by the time Smoke recognized her and her lips and limbs were a lot looser. Smoke watched Rallo fill her glass up to the top and sat watching her gulp it down like a sucker for love. He would serve other folks and park his ass right back in front of Annie, charming her with everything he had.

“Oh fuck this.”

Smoke skipped every two steps to race towards the bar. Pulling out a cigarette Stack rolled for him, he stood behind Annie staring directly into the back of her head. Her hand rested on Rallo’s forearm, waxing poetically about the south and how beautiful Chicago was.

“Annie.”

Her heart dropped into her ass. Annie’s pulse skyrocketed head ring his southern rasp that hadn’t changed in four years. She forced herself to play it off however— he didn’t get to leave her and their home and their baby and demand immediate attention.

Annie turned to gaze him in the eye and smiled. Rallo however stood up straight as a board, having prior knowledge of Smoke’s reputation especially on the southside. He has never been on his bad side before and didn’t want to start today. Smoke was burning with rage seeing his estranged wife giggle and flirt with a measly bartender.

“I’m busy.”

She cut her eyes and returned to her moonshine on the bar. “Rallo, get the fuck outta here.”

“Sure thing, Smoke.” Rallo left Annie alone and assisted other patrons where it was safe. She huffed at his audacity and threw the rest of the liquor back.

“Still jealous, huh? You never did like my attention to be split.” She hasn’t looked him in the eye yet, staring at the mirror that spanned the backlit bar in front of her. He was still devastatingly handsome..

“What you sayin to him, huh? Had a good time socializin? Why are you here?”

“So Smoke the only one ‘llowed to leave the country? I’m looking towards a future, not the past where everything hurts too bad. Sound familiar?” Annie hissed at Smoke for daring to regulate her. He left HER. He needed to hurt now.

It sliced right through him to have his own words thrown back in his face. His jaw was locked so tight it could break an anvil. “Annie, can we talk in the back? Please?”

“Mmmm, no I’m fine just right here ,thank you so much.” Internally, she loved that she could rouse him still. He still cared. She could tell he still wanted her carnally— his eyes wouldn’t stop wandering the length of her body.

Smoke curled his lips in, gritting his teeth at her insolence. He did deserve the treatment. But he didn’t care— all he wanted was to cuss her ass out and give her all the love that had been pent up for the last four years. “Annie. Please.”

“Elijah. Please.” Her ire began to rise now. His eyes pleaded with her to cooperate and not have his business out for Chicago to see — he had a reputation to uphold. Annie acquiesced begrudgingly, jumping from the barstool and allowed him to guide her to the back. He grabbed her hand and laced their fingers like they used to. Electricity had no choice to spread through her body.

Smoke had a key to Luzzato’s office which had a bed and closet for whenever he was too tired to drive home from the club. Annie scrutinized the tall windows cased in luxurious drapes, all of the expensive hardwood furniture and floors, and fancy Art deco decor. Nothing like back down home.

“You like Rallo?”

“Tuh, you ain’t got not one lick of sense. He was friendly enough.”

“Why are you here, Annie? You said you could never leave Mississippi. You said you could never leave—“ Smoke stopped short of speaking their dead child’s name. Her name crumbled in his mouth, a raw memory that still threatened to take him down if he let it.

That made Annie’s chin tremble yet galvanized her to force the issue. “You can’t even say her name. The child we made out of love. And you can’t even do that.” She sounded so weary and exhausted.

His eyes were glassy already, and he grabbed both of her hands. “Annie…..I couldn’t stay and you know this. I fuckin couldn’t wake up every mornin seein that tiny grave every day. I couldn’t…”

Annie felt the tremors in Smoke’s hands. She couldn’t hold tears back any longer. “And how do you think I felt?! I pulled her from my womb myself. I nursed her. I prayed for her. And she wasted away anyway. What about my pain, Elijah?!”

The dam broke for Smoke, and he cried as he embraced her. She wriggled and struggled but Smoke held her in place, both shedding tears that had no end. “Annie, please forgive me. Please forgive me. I love you. I love you to the ends of the Earth. Please forgive me.” His lips sweetly grazed her chin, cheek and down to her supple neck.

She shuddered audibly, his touch still had the ability to make her knees weak like jelly. Annie hated that her body leaned into his affections without her permission. After all this time. After what he did. “You hurt me. You hurt me bad. How can I..”

Their mouths met in a whirlwind. Tongues lashing against one another, inciting soft moans from the pair. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do whatever. Spend the rest of my life doin it if I have to.” Smoke’s lips kissed down her collarbone to her chest and he tenderly pecked the top of her breasts.

Kisses turn to bites, and revert back to kisses along her cleavage, and a big bicep wraps around Annie’s waist for him to grind his hips on hers. Her moans rise in volume when he reaches under her gown, and pulls her panties to the side. Smoke folds his tongue back into her mouth while two of his agile digits swipe back and forth so tenderly across her pussy lips.

“Oh…shit Smoke��”

So much of her slick is already expelled, making a mess on his fingers just how he remembers. “I’ll just have to remind you how it feels to be loved by me..”

Smoke loves how buxom his wife is, and can’t wait another second without one of her titties in his mouth. Annie helps him pull down the straps of the dress along with her bra, showing her bare breasts in all their glory. Smoke walks Annie back to Luzzato’s massive dark oak desk and leans her up against it. She held the skirt of her dress while he played with her pussy and sucked her nipples so sweetly. He kneeled so he could look at her mound even closer, making her gasp at his anticipation. He ran his hand through her soft coils and spread her lips and put his face in between them.

Bliss can’t come to close to how sensational she’s feeling. Annie holds her husband’s head right on her clit, letting his tongue lap gently in tight circles. Two thick fingers penetrate her hole and if Smoke wasn’t holding her up, she would have slipped right off the desk.

“You…you motherfucker…don’t you stop baby…”

He has her to tilt her hips up so he can lick even more thoroughly, his handsome face covered in her essence. Smoke is proud as ever, and considers it an honor to make his wife come after the way everything went down. The telltale signs came one after the other — Annie grabbing her breast, plucking her nipple, her gritted teeth, her bewildered expression at the sheer amount of pleasure she’s receiving. Those juicy lips of his wrap around Annie’s clit and sucked to tumble her into sweet oblivion. The way his moans reverberated through her body as he took from her….she couldn’t ache for him more than she did in this very moment.

Smoke kisses her sensitive pussy for the last time and finagles with his belt and slacks. When he takes his button down off, Annie sees the mojo bag she made for him when he went to the war. Her belly fluttered, that he still kept it after all this time. Even with how he felt about her beliefs. “Turn yo ass around.”

He wipes his mouth off and sheds his underwear. Annie can feel how hard he is on the small of her back, urging a coy gasp out of her. A couple strokes of his shaft is all he needs to enter his wife. Her skirts are bunched up over her ass, and his hands can’t resist slapping both cheeks in tandem. Annie hikes her waist up, positively buzzing waiting for him to split her open. Smoke holds her open and lets the head of his dick penetrate her. They both shout in ecstasy at their coupling. It had been so long….

“I know you don’t believe me….but you the only one. You the only one, Annie…” One of his hands held her by the shoulder, forcing Annie to sit on every devastating inch of that thick dick. Her whines and cries spurred him to get in deep — make her remember that he was her husband, and she was his wife. Forever.

Her umber skin meshed so well with his, Smoke enjoying the view of him sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy. “Good ass pussy, that good ass shit, fuck!” Smoke licked and bit at Annie’s delicate shoulders and neck, grunting like a man determined to fuck his beautiful well.

Fingers played and twisted at her nipples, until he pushes Annie’s chest to the desk so she gets everything she deserves out of him. Her pussy feels every vein and pulse of his dick caressing her walls, his heavy sack making contact with her clit on every thrust. She can’t stop smiling. Her man. Her Elijah. Their love was bone deep — inescapable, insurmountable, and unbreakable. They were a committing a sacred act that she didn’t realize how much she missed until that moment.

Smoke is beginning to twitch inside of her, and Annie starts clapping her fat ass on his pelvis. His bottom lip is tucked between his teeth, feeling himself about to walk into Eden. He has to get her to come with her — he needs to make her ascend this way.

“Yeah baby, yeah baby, it’s coming — fuck fuck I—“ Smoke gives Annie three powerful thrusts and he erupts inside of her. So much cum from her and him, the floor is a mess. He stands back and spreads her open to see the amalgamation of their love inside her pussy, and she blushes. Smoke is tender and sweet, but so filthy and nasty for her, and she swears she’s the luckiest girl in the world.

He holds her from behind just taking in her scent mingled with his — Luzzato’s office smelled like old cigars and pussy. “I forgive you, Elijah.”

Smoke was startled when she spoke — there had been a comfortable silence as they held each other. He turned her to face him and held her close, looking in her eyes with hope for reconciliation. “I couldn’t quit you if I wanted to. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone.”

He graced Annie with a rare smile, one that reached his eyes. One peck on her lips turned into twenty and he thanked her incessantly for her mercy. Ever the gentleman, he assisted his wife in redressing and rearranging Luzzato’s office. The sneaky pair rejoined the festivities — still lively like they never left. Smoke got Annie a seat at his personal table on the second floor, walking tall and proud with his wife on his arm. Heads turned and gossip flowed at this mysterious woman. Smoke had never been sighted with any woman before in Chicago, not unless it was about business.

Humming in the vibrant after sex glow, Annie could do nothing but look at her husband’s face. By no means, was this going to be easy for them to grow from. But they were both ready and willing. Their love was unstoppable. Ancestral. Celestial. Smoke sensed her gaze on him and he turned back to her. Reaching over the table to kiss her, he held her hand tightly to his chest, with urgency.

“I’m comin back wit ya. I can’t let you walk away from me. I’d surely die, Annie. Will you have me?”

She squealed with utter joy at his heartfelt request. Annie sprang up and ran to him, sitting on his lap and kissing him with everything she had. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

TAGS:

@l-auteuse

@eclecticblkgirl

@thadelightfulone

@nickidub718

@theogbadbitch

@loveeeeandaffection

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@amirra88

@sheabuttahwrites

@janelledarling

@raysunshine78

@stariamrry

@fd-writes

@dessianna1

@thehomierobbstark

@thickemadame

@honeytoffee

@uzumaki-rebellion

@xo-goldengirl

@blackmissfrizzle

@killmonger-fics

@rbhp

@sheisexcellent1

@viewsfromthesips

@ljstraightnochaser

@spicynoodlezzz

@msreshel

@miyuhpapayuh

@dameshaemonique

@tchallasbabymama

@naysianaee

@alookintohersoul

@blackburnbook

@hotgrlcece

@just-peachee

@blackpinup22

@eyeknowmywrites

@childishgambinaax

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@goddessofthundathighs

@brattyfics

@ghostfacekill-monger

@merranerra

#soufcakmistress #black writers #sinners #sinners movie #smoke x annie #annie sinners #smoke x stack #annie x smoke #sinners 2025 #sinners spoilers

584 notes · View notes

itneverendshere · 9 months ago

Text

LOOKIN' LIKE MOTIVATION - hockey!r.c (+18)

requested by my #1 @zya4lifers

warnings: meantions of cheating; SMUT. pairing: sports physical therapist!reader x hockey player!rafe; friends to lovers.

Rafe’s day started the same way it had for the last two months: with a groan of pain that shot up from his knee and settled into his mood like a stubborn storm cloud.

He hated physical therapy, but what he hated more was sitting on the sidelines, watching his teammates on the ice while he was stuck on a cushioned table with resistance bands and an overenthusiastic sports medic, with hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail and a pair of blue scrubs that somehow still looked cute on you.

At least that was what he thought when he first met you.

But two weeks in, his hatred had morphed into something else entirely, something way more complicated. He wasn’t sure when it happened—maybe when he caught you singing quietly along with the radio while taping up his knee, or when you’d given him that first, honest-to-God smile that wasn’t out of politeness but genuine amusement at some stupid joke he’d made.

And he made a lot of those.

Now, sitting on that same damn table, Rafe found himself looking forward to PT in a way that had nothing to do with his injury.

You walked in, clipboard in hand, looking as professional as always. It was kind of cute, the way you tried so hard to keep things strictly professional between the two of you.

Rafe knew he got under your skin—hell, he made sure of it. He could tell by the way your eyes flicked up to meet his for just a second longer than necessary before you quickly looked away. You tried to be cool, but he knew better.

“Alright, Cameron. How’s the knee today?”

He put on his best wounded-puppy face. “Terrible. I might never skate again.”

“Shut up.”

“And I could be better,” Rafe drawled, his lips curling into that signature smirk. “But seeing you always helps.”

You rolled your eyes, but he saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time,” he shot back, winking at you.

You tried to ignore him, busying yourself with adjusting the equipment. “Let’s focus on your knee, alright?”

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Rafe said, stretching out on the table with a lazy grin.

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched up. “We’ve got to work on your pain tolerance.”

He couldn’t resist. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to keep me on my toes.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression deadpan.

“And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to avoid actually doing your therapy, Cameron.”

Touché.

He liked the way you said his name—like you were in control, like you were the one calling the shots.

It was refreshing.

The first few minutes of the session passed in relative silence as you guided him through the exercises, your hands expertly working his injured knee. Rafe winced, but it wasn’t all from the pain.

It was from trying to resist the need to say something that might actually cross the line.

But resisting wasn’t really his style.

“So, what’s your boyfriend up to this weekend?” Rafe asked, his voice casual, but his eyes keen, watching your reaction.

You weren’t the kind of girl to fall for a player, especially one with a reputation like Rafe’s.

Besides, you were already with someone. Logan—the clean-cut, dependable defenseman from a rival school. You’d been together for over a year, and things were great.

You looked up at him, a little caught off guard.

“Out of town.”

Rafe snorted, unable to help himself. “Figures.”

You frowned, straightening up to give him a look. That look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“He’s busy,” you said defensively.

“Too busy for you?” he pushed, his tone dripping with faux concern. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, I’d make time.”

You gave him an unimpressed look, “I’m sure you would.”

“You don’t think I would?”

“I think you’ve already got your hands full with the cheerleading team.”

He liked to pretend you sounded jealous and not critical.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Cheerleaders are fun and all, but they’re not really my type.”

Okay, that was half a lie, but in his defense, he hadn’t slept with anyone on the cheer squad since sophomore year in college.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest as you adjusted the strap on his knee brace. “And what exactly is your type, Cameron?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “Complicated. Smart. Gorgeous.”

You didn’t miss a beat, even as your pulse quickened. “So, basically the opposite of you?”

He grinned, like a stupidly in love sick puppy, unbothered by the jab. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the smile threatening to break through. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Only when it comes to you,” he replied smoothly, his eyes locked on yours.

There was no denying the chemistry, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. But you were with someone else, someone who, despite his flaws, you cared about.

Still, Rafe made it hard to remember why you were trying to resist in the first place.

“Rafe, we really should focus on your PT,” you chastised, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory.

“Trust me, m’focusing,” he replied, his tone suggesting he wasn’t talking about his knee.

You rolled your eyes, standing up straighter to put some distance between you.

“Right. Well, you need to focus on this next exercise. We’re going to work on your range of motion.”

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue, watching you with a lazy smile as you moved to demonstrate the exercise.

He couldn’t help but admire the way you carried yourself—confident, knowledgeable, and completely fucking beautiful.

It was a challenge, and Rafe Cameron loved a challenge.

As you guided his leg through the motion, your hands firm but gentle, he couldn’t resist pushing a little more. “You know, you never answered my question.”

“What question?” you asked, though you had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“What you’re doing this weekend.”

You glanced away, focusing on the movement of his knee, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted the angle. “I’ll probably just catch up on some work. Maybe relax.”

“Sounds boring,” Rafe remarked, then adding most absolute out of pocket suggestion. “You should let me take you out.”

You looked up sharply, caught off guard by his directness. “Rafe, I’m—”

“Taken, I know,” he interrupted, biting his tongue not to add the unfortunately’. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun, does it? Just as friends.”

“Just as friends?” you echoed skeptically, knowing full well what his idea of ‘just friends’ probably entailed.

Rafe shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “We could get dinner, maybe hit up a bar, talk about something other than my knee for once. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

“No.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before it came back stronger, more determined. He leaned back on the table, pretending to stretch as he tried to ignore how much your rejection hurt his feelings.

"No?" he echoed, as if the concept was foreign to him.

You crossed your arms, standing straighter. "No. We both know what you're trying to do, and it's not going to happen."

"And what exactly am I trying to do?" he asked, feigning innocence with a earth shattering smirk that told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to get drawn into his game. "You know what. I’m here to help you with your injury, not to entertain whatever fantasy you’ve got going on."

"Who says it’s a fantasy?" he shot back, his voice lowering, taking on a more serious tone that caught you off guard. "Maybe I just want to get to know you better."

You paused, searching his face for any sign of sincerity. But he was hard to read when he wanted to be. "Rafe, you're a good guy, but—"

"Good guy?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow. "I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe me like that."

"Fine," you conceded with a small smile. "Maybe ‘good’ is a stretch. But you’re not as bad as you want people to think."

Rafe’s smirk faded. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and it made you hesitate, made you wonder if there was more to him than just the cocky, relentless flirt.

But before you could dwell on it, he was back to his usual self, flashing you that devil-may-care grin that made it hard to stay mad at him. "You know, I’d actually take that as a compliment if it came from anyone else."

"Don’t get too excited," you replied, trying to keep things light. "I still think you’re a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but I’m your pain in the ass," he teased, stupidly blinking his lashes up at you.

You shook your head, unable to stop the laugh that bubbled up. "You really don’t give up, do you?"

"Not when it comes to something I want," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

"Cameron, this isn’t going to happen. I have a boyfriend."

He shrugged, unbothered. "And? You’re no fun. You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

You handed him a water bottle, expression neutral. “You’re just out of shape.”

“Out of shape?” He looked at her, incredulous. “Do you see this body?”

You didn’t take the bait. “I see a guy who’s been slacking off on his conditioning.”

He laughed, low and warm, as he took a sip of water. “You’re tough. Tougher than most of the coaches I’ve had.”

You shrugged, as if it was no big deal. “Someone has to keep you in line.”

“Logan’s a lucky guy.”

The hockey world was small, and word got around, of course he knew his name.

“Logan’s great,” you said, a little too quickly.

Rafe nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m sure he is.”

He didn’t push it further, though. Instead, he fell back into his usual routine of teasing and flirting.

Every time you guided his leg through a stretch or adjusted the equipment, he found his mind wandering, imagining what it would be like if things were different. If he were the one you were coming home to after a long day, if he were the one you smiled at without that guarded look in your eyes.

But you were with Logan, and as much as he hated to admit it, Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to cross that line. Not when you were clearly trying so hard to keep things professional between the two of you.

As the session wrapped up, you handed him his schedule for the next few days, “I’ll see you on Thursday. Make sure you keep up with the exercises over the next couple of days, and don’t overdo it.”

He took the paper from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest of moments.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be good,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Can’t make any promises.”

He spent the weekend bored out of his mind, thinking about you—wondering if you were with Logan, if the guy was actually smart enough to know what he had.

He hated Logan more than he hated the pain in his knee.

The guy was too perfect, too dependable, too fucking boring. And he had been praying, in a way he wouldn’t admit to anyone, that something would happen—something that would make you see Logan for the jackass he really was. It wasn’t that he thought he was a better guy; he knew his own flaws better than anyone. But he also knew that he could make you happier, make you laugh harder, make you feel things that Logan never could.

So when you walked in late to the next session, he was ready to make a joke, to tease you about finally deciding to show up.

The words died on his lips when he saw you. You weren’t looking at him, not really, just muttering a half-hearted apology as you dropped your bag in the corner. But when you finally met his gaze, his chest did that stupid thing where it almost stopped. Not in a good way.

Your eyes were bloodshot red, the kind of red that came from hours of crying, from tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried. You looked exhausted, like you hadn’t slept in days, and your usual spark was nowhere to be found.

His first instinct was to make a joke, to lighten the mood the way he always did, but he couldn’t. Not when you looked like that.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice void of its usual cockiness. “You okay?”

You nodded, but it was the kind of nod that was meant to shut someone up, not because you actually meant it. You were far from okay.

“You’re late,” he said, his tone teasing, but even he could hear the concern underneath.

“I know, sorry,” you replied, your voice small, almost defeated.

Rafe frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. This wasn’t like you. You were always so put together, so in control, and seeing you like this was…so unsettling.

“What happened?” he asked, more serious now, the joking tone completely gone.

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze as you busied yourself with the equipment, but Rafe wasn’t going to let it go that easily. Not when he could see the pain written all over your face.

“C’mon sweetheart, what’s going on?” he pressed, his voice soft but insistent. “Did something happen with Logan?”

The way you flinched at his name told him everything he needed to know.

Protectiveness instantly swelled inside him. He’d always thought Logan was too good to be true, but seeing you like this confirmed it.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it that he usually kept hidden from you, saved it for the ice. “Because if he did, I swear to God—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you finally looked at him, “I mean, yes, but… it’s not like that.”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “What did he do?”

You hesitated, the words trapped in your throat as you tried to hold it together. But there was no point in pretending anymore, not when Rafe was looking at you like that—like he actually cared, like he was ready to go to war for you if that’s what it took.

“He cheated,” you finally whispered, your voice trembling as the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over. “I found out through a fucking DM on Instagram. Some girl… she just messaged me out of the blue and told me everything. And when I confronted him, he didn’t even deny it. He just—just said it wasn’t a big deal.”

Rafe’s vision blurred with red-hot anger. The kind of emotion he only felt when his team was being robbed by referees or losing.

He wanted to find Logan and beat the shit out of him for making you cry, for being stupid enough to let you go. But more than that, he wanted to make you feel better, to make the hurt go away, even if he didn’t know how.

“That fucking asshole,” He growled, his voice trembling with barely controlled rage. “I swear to God, I’ll—let me get on that ice and I’ll wipe the entire ring with his face.”

“Rafe, don’t,” you pleaded quickly, cutting him off. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it, okay?”

His heart twisted at the broken look in your eyes, the way your voice wavered as if you didn’t quite believe your own words.

“He’s not worth you,” Rafe rebutted, stepping closer, his anger replaced by something gentler, “You deserve better than that. Way better.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t like him to be so serious. But here he was, looking at you like you were the most important person in the world, and it made you want to cry even more.

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you admitted. He reached out, hesitating for just a second before he gently held your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally escaped.

“You deserve someone who knows what they have when they have you,” he reassured you, his eyes locked on yours. “Someone who would never make you cry like this. Someone who would never, ever cheat on you.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over at his words. “Rafe…”

“I’m serious,” he continued, not giving you a chance to doubt yourself again. “You’re… you’re amazing, you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you, and Logan’s a fucking idiot for not seeing that.”

You shook your head, trying to keep it together, but it was no use.

You started to cry, the kind of deep, gut-wrenching sobs that you’d been holding in all weekend. And before you knew it, you were collapsing into his arms, letting him hold you as you cried, his arms strong and steady around you.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to shush you or tell you everything was going to be okay. He just held you, his hand slowly rubbing your back as you let it all out, crying into his chest until there were no more tears left.

When you finally pulled back, your face red and puffy from crying, you only uttered a small, “Thank you.”

Rafe nodded, his eyes practically glazed with love sickness as he looked down at you. “Anytime.”

And then, without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft, hesitant peck to his cheek, lingering for just a second before pulling away.

He blinked, a little stunned by the gesture, but before he could say anything, you stepped back.

“Do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” you said quickly, your voice still shaky. “I’m not sure I-“

“Of course not.”

You breathed out in relief, “Thank you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell you to stay, to tell you that it was okay to not be okay, that you didn’t have to face this alone.

But he knew you needed space, needed time to process everything that had happened. He could wait. He’d wait forever for you.

“Yeah,” he said softly, nodding as you turned to leave. “Tomorrow.”

He wanted to be there for you, to be the one you turned to when everything fell apart. But more than that, he wanted to be the one to put you back together again, to show you that not all guys were like Logan—that he wasn’t like Logan.

And as you disappeared down the hallway, he made a silent promise to himself: he was going to make you see that. No matter what it took.

The weeks passed, each session with Rafe seamlessly flowing into the next. What started as this totally professional thing, strictly business, slowly morphed into something way more personal. His cocky jokes and playful banter had shifted into these deep conversations that actually mattered, and somewhere along the way, you found yourself getting closer to him than you ever expected.

Rafe’s knee had healed remarkably well, and now the day had arrived: his first game back on the ice.

As it drew near, a strange sense of anxiety started to mess with your head. Your life had become so closely tied to Rafe’s recovery over the past few months that the thought of him no longer needing your help—or your company—left you with an unsettling emptiness.

You were going to miss him.

You had prepared yourself for the possibility that he might distance himself once he was back on the ice. After all, athletes had their own lives, their own routines, and you were just the therapist who had helped him get to this point.

But when he invited you to his first game, the gesture came as a welcome. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, he’d slowly lurked his way into your heart.

It was after a particularly intense session, where you’d pushed him harder than ever before, that he brought it up. You were finishing up, wiping down the equipment while he caught his breath, stretching out his legs on the bench.

“Y’know sweetheart,” Rafe started, his voice casual but with a hint of something more in it, “I’ve got my first game back tomorrow night.”

You looked up, catching the not so subtle excitement in his tone.

“Yeah, I’ve heard. You must be excited.”

“Nervous as hell, more like it.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “It’s been a long time coming. A lot of pressure to perform, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding him. You’d seen how hard he’d worked, how much this comeback meant to him. “You’ll do great, Cameron. You’re more than ready.”

He smiled at that, but there was something else in his expression, something hesitant. “I was thinking…maybe you could come. To the game, I mean. It’d be nice to have someone there who’s seen the whole process, who knows what it took to get back on that ice.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest. It wasn’t just the invitation—it was what it represented. He didn’t just see you as the therapist who’d helped him heal.

He saw you as someone important, someone he wanted by his side as he took this next step. A friend maybe.

“I’d love to, Rafe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

Relief washed over his face, followed by a grin that was equal parts gratitude and something else— “Good,” he said, his voice quieter now, “because I’d hate for you to miss it. You’ve been a big part of this, more than you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you found yourself blushing under his gaze.

“I’m just doing my job,” you shook your head, but the look in his eyes told you that he saw right through your attempt to downplay it.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad it’s you,” Rafe said, his voice earnest. “I don’t think I could’ve done this with anyone else.”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he looked at you made it hard to breathe. This was more than just an invitation to a game. This was him telling you, in his own way, that you mattered to him—that you were more than just his therapist, that you were someone he wanted to keep around.

“I’m glad it was me too,” you admitted, unable to keep your eyes away from his.

“Tomorrow night, then.”

“Tomorrow night.”

Now, as you sit in the stands, watching Rafe skate out onto the ice, you feel a nervous anticipation that has little to do with the game itself.

Just before the puck drops, Rafe catches your eye, giving you a confident wink that sends your heart racing like a school girl. He knows what this game means, not just for him, but for you as well.

Logan is there, playing on the opposite team. You haven’t seen him in exactly two months. Whatever feelings you had for him disappeared the moment you found out about his betrayal, but your ego still hurts like hell.

The energy in the arena is electric, a buzz that makes his blood hum with anticipation. His first game back, and the stakes couldn’t be higher—not just because of his injury, not just because it’s a rivalry match, but because Logan is on the other side of the ice. Rafe’s jaw clenches at the thought of that bastard, the memory of your tear-streaked face still fresh in his mind.

During warm-ups, he spotted Logan, skating like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he hadn’t just thrown away the best thing that ever happened to him. Rafe’s grip tightens on his stick, his knuckles white against the black tape. The rage simmering beneath his skin isn’t just about the game. It’s personal.

His focus is razor-sharp, every movement precise, every play calculated. But no matter how much he tries to concentrate on the game, his eyes keep drifting back to Logan, who skates circles around the ice like he owns it.

The first period passes without incident, but by the second, the tension is boiling over. Rafe feels it building, that need to do something, to break Logan’s face in half. He doesn’t just want to beat him; he wants to humiliate him, to knock that smug look off his face once and for all.

Then it happens.

Midway through the second period, Logan makes a hard hit on one of Rafe’s teammates, sending the guy crashing into the boards. The hit is clean, but it’s the arrogance in Logan’s smirk that pushes Rafe over the edge.

He doesn’t hesitate.

He skates straight at Logan, not bothering with any pretense. If Logan wants to play dirty, he is more than ready to play dirtier. Logan barely has time to react before Rafe drops his gloves, his intent crystal clear.

“You think you can just get away with that?” He snarls, his voice low and menacing as he shoves Logan hard in the chest, the force sending him stumbling back on his skates.

Logan’s eyes flash with surprise, quickly followed by anger. “What the hell’s your problem, Cameron?”

He doesn’t bother with a reply.

He swings, his fist connecting solidly with Logan’s jaw. The satisfying crunch of bone against bone is drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but Rafe doesn’t care. He’s been waiting for this moment, waiting to unleash all the pent-up anger and frustration that’s been eating away at him since the day you walked into that PT room with your heart shattered.

Logan staggers back, his expression twisting with fury. He recovers quickly, launching himself at Rafe with a wild swing, but Rafe is ready. He dodges the punch and counters with another one of his own, this time aiming for Logan’s ribs. He can feel the impact reverberate up his arm, but it’s not enough. He wants more.

“Come on!” He shouts, face red from all the pent-up anger simmering inside him. “Is that all you’ve fucking got?”

Logan grits his teeth, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re fucking crazy, Cameron!”

“You haven't seen shit," He spits back, landing another punch to Logan’s midsection. “But at least I know how to treat someone right.”

Logan’s eyes widen, the realization of what this is really about dawning on him. “This is about her? You’re seriously going to throw down over some girl?”

Rafe’s vision goes red at the mention of you, the casual way Logan dismisses you as “some girl.” He doesn’t care that he’s going too far, doesn’t care that the refs are probably going to break this up any second. All he cares about is making Logan feel a fraction of the pain he caused you.

“You don’t get to talk about her,” He growls, grabbing Logan by the collar and yanking him close. “You don’t even get to think about her.”

Logan tries to shove him off, but Rafe is relentless, landing punch after punch, each one fueled by the memory of you crying in his arms, by the way your voice trembled when you told him what Logan had done.

By now, the refs are on them, trying to pull Rafe away, but he isn’t finished. Not yet.

“You don’t deserve her,” He hisses through clenched teeth, his fist connecting with Logan’s face one last time before the refs finally manage to separate them. “You never did.”

Logan stumbles back, his face a bloody mess, and for a brief moment, he feels a little satisfaction. But it isn’t enough to stop the anger, the frustration, the overwhelming need to protect you from ever being hurt like that again.

He sits in the penalty box, his chest heaving as he tries to calm the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He can barely hear the crowd over the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knows they’re going wild. The fight has been brutal, and he’s given Logan exactly what he deserved. But as the rush of the fight starts to fade, he starts to overthink: how will you react?

The game ends with a hard-fought win for his team, but the victory feels hollow. As his teammates celebrate on the ice, Rafe’s thoughts are miles away, fixated on you. What if you’re pissed? What if you think he’s overstepped?

After the final whistle, he makes his way to the locker room, his mind racing. He’s about to strip off his gear when he hears footsteps approaching, quick and determined. Before he can even turn around, the locker room door flies open, and there you are, marching straight toward him with a look on your face that he can’t quite read.

Shit. You’re mad.

“Hey, listen,” he starts, his voice low and uncertain as he holds up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I know that might’ve looked bad out there, but I swear—”

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you grab the front of his jersey and pull him down to your level, crashing your lips against his with a force that takes him completely off guard.

His mind goes blank as all he can focus on is the way your mouth moves against his. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before—raw, heated, desperate.

His hands instantly find your waist, gripping tightly as he pulls you flush against him, the heat of your bodies mingling in the small space between you. Your kiss is wild, all tongues and teeth, and when you bite down on his bottom lip, hard enough to make him groan, he realizes this is real.

You’re kissing him.

“Fuck,” he gasps against your mouth, his voice ragged with need. But you don’t give him a chance to catch his breath, your hands threading through his hair as you deepen the kiss, your lips moving with a feverish intensity that makes his head spin.

You break away just long enough to breathe, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

The way you say it, half-growled, half-breathed, sends a shiver down his spine, and he can’t help the sound that escapes him, somewhere between a moan and a groan. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he fights to keep control, but you aren’t making it easy.

You press yourself even closer, your body flush against his as you kiss him again, harder this time, more demanding. Your tongue sweeps into his mouth, claiming him, and Rafe is more than happy to let you take the lead. He’s never felt anything like this before—this urgency, this hunger that makes him want to lose himself in you completely.

You tug on his hair, tilting his head back to give yourself better access, and Rafe nearly loses it right then and there. He can feel his self-control slipping, can feel the primal need to devour you taking over, but he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how badly he wants you, how desperately he needs to feel more of you.

When you pull back, your lips are swollen and glistening, your breathing just as ragged as his. You stare at him, your eyes dark with lust, and Rafe feels his heart hammering in his chest, each beat echoing with the desire pulsing through him.

“Been waiting for over an hour to do that,” you breathe.

Rafe’s hands roam up your back, tracing the curve of your spine as he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he doesn’t stop. His fingers grip you there, kneading the soft flesh with a pressure that makes you gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pressing against his.

“Then do it again,” he murmurs, “Do whatever the hell you want to me.”

His hands are everywhere, sliding up your sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving back down to cup your ass again, pulling you even closer against him. You can feel him, hard and ready, pressing against your thigh, and it sends a wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You want him—more than you ever wanted anyone—and the way he’s looking at you tells you he feels the same.

Rafe lets out a low, almost guttural sound as you rock your hips against him, the pressure making him tighten his grip on you, holding you in place as he grounds himself against you. The sensation makes your breath hitch, a needy whimper escaping your lips that only spurs him on.

“Fucking idiot,” you whisper again, your voice rough with desire as you nip at his bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth before soothing the bite with your tongue.

His reaction is immediate. He groans, a sound so deep and full of need that it sends a shiver down your spine. His hands flex against you, his fingers digging into your flesh as if he’s trying not to loseg control completely.

But you can feel it—the way he’s trembling, the way his breath is coming in harsh, uneven pants against your neck. He kisses you again, hard and desperate, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that matches the wild pounding of your heart

But just when you think you can’t take it any longer, the sound of footsteps echoes outside the door, snapping you both back to reality. You pull back, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, your mind spinning with the intensity of what had just happened. He’s just staring at you, his eyes glazed with desire, his lips swollen and red from your kisses. He looks as wrecked as you feel, and it takes everything in you not to drag him back down for more.

But you know you shouldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Except there’s no fucking way Rafe is letting you go now. He doesn’t say a word. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and filled with a raw need that makes your breath catch.

He doesn’t ask; doesn’t need to. He’s done waiting, done pretending he can hold back.

Without another word, he pulls you toward the locker room, his grip firm and unyielding as he leads you through the maze of benches and lockers. Your heart races as he pushes open the door to the showers, the sound of the water echoing off the tile walls. The room is empty, the air thick with steam, and the second you step inside, he’s pouncing on you. Clothes are gone in the blink of an eye.

He presses you up against the cold tile wall, his body flushes against yours as his lips find yours again, hands running over your wet skin. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his tongue tracing a path down to your collarbone as he kisses, licks, and nips at your sensitive skin. You whimper, fingers threading through his hair as he drops to his knees in front of you, his lips trailing down your stomach.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of the hot water and his hot mouth on your skin driving you insane. "If you don’t-" your voice trembles with need as he spreads your thighs apart, “Fuck.”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His hands grip your hips firmly. Without another word, he buries his face between your legs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. The sudden, intense pleasure makes you cry out, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders as he licks and sucks, his tongue working you over with a skill that leaves you gasping for breath. It’s not fair.

This man can’t possibly be real. The water splashes against your back, masking the sounds of your moans as he takes his time, driving you closer and closer to the edge with every swirl of his tongue. Your body trembles, your legs barely able to hold you up as he pushes you higher, his hands tightening on your hips as he holds you in place.

"Oh my god," you moan, your voice breaking as you feel the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up until you are crying out his name, your body shuddering as your orgasm crashes over you, your nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure rips through you.

Rafe keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your release until you are trembling, your legs shaking as you struggle to catch your breath.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to stop. He can’t get enough now that he has finally gotten a taste. He stands back up, his hands running up your sides as he kisses you again, the taste of you still on his lips. You can feel him, hard and ready against your stomach, and it only drives you crazier. Of course, this man had to be fucking huge.

Without breaking the kiss, he spins you around, pressing you against the wall as his hands grip your hips, pulling them back slightly. You brace yourself against the tile, your body arching as you felt the head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

"Oh Rafe," you groan out his name, your voice low and needy and he growls softly in response, his breath hot against your ear as he slowly pushes inside you, filling you inch by inch until he is buried to the hilt.

Rafe nearly passes out from the sight. Watching himself disappear inside you has to be his favorite sight in the entire world.

“So fucking pretty.” The feeling of him stretching you, filling you completely, is almost too much to bear, and you let out a long, low moan as he begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that drives you wild. The water cascades over your bodies as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucks you with a steady, unrelenting rhythm.

Each thrust pushes you harder against the wall, the cool tile a pleasing contrast to the heat between you. You can barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensation of Rafe moving inside you, his cock hitting all the right spots with every thrust. The sound of the water mixed with the wet slap of skin against skin, your moans and gasps echoing off the walls as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to consume you.

"God, you feel so fucking good," He groans, his voice rough with desire as he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Faster," you gasp, your voice pleading as you push back against him, needing more, needing everything. He doesn’t hesitate. His pace quickening, his thrusts coming harder and faster as he drives you both toward the edge. The intensity of it is overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as he fucks you with a raw, desperate need that matches your own. Just when you think you couldn’t take any more, you heard footsteps outside the shower, followed by a voice calling out.

"Cameron? You in here, man?" Rafe freezes, his body tense, his cock still buried deep inside you as he glances toward the door, his breath ragged.

"Yeah, I’m here," he calls back, trying to keep his voice steady, though you could hear the strain in it.

"We’re heading downtown to the bar. You coming?"

He looks down at you, all too pleased with himself, "Not tonight," he replies, his voice thick with lust. "Got something else to take care of."

There’s a pause, then a chuckle from the other side of the door. "Alright, man. Have fun."

The footsteps retreat, and the moment the door closes, he’s moving again, thrusting into you with a renewed urgency, the near-interruption only heightening the intensity of the moment. You moan loudly, your body quaking as he drives into you with a relentless rhythm, each thrust sending you spiraling closer and closer to another orgasm.

The combination of the heat, the steam, the feel of Rafe fucking you so hard is too much, the almost getting caught. You feel yourself losing it, your entire body tightening as you reach the edge once again.

"Come for me," He growls, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you are sure there will be bruises tomorrow. His words push you over, and you cry out as your orgasm tears through you, your body convulsing around him as the pleasure crashes over you in waves.

Rafe follows right behind you, his hips slamming into yours one last time as he comes, his body shuddering as he fills you to the brim with a low, guttural groan.

For a long moment, neither of you move, both of you panting, your bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all. The water continues to pour over you, washing away the evidence of your encounter as you slowly come down from the high.

Finally, he pulls out, turning you around to face him as he cups your face in his hands, his lips brushing softly against yours in a tender kiss that’s so different to the rough, desperate way he just fucked you.

"You’re a fucking idiot," you whisper against his lips, a small, breathless laugh escaping you.

He chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked down at you, drowning in affection. "Yeah, but I’m your fucking idiot."

He was fighting every fucking player on that ice ring if it meant having you again.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #hockey!rafe

1K notes · View notes

lexirosewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Day 16: Pack Isolation Sickness

for @stmarchmm

Steve has never felt more at home than at a concert.

Ever since he was old enough to hitch a ride to Indy and sneak into places with a passable fake ID, he’s been drawn to live music however he can find it.

He’s not even very picky about the genre.

Of course, he has his favorite bands and singers, as most people do. A small collection of songs and artists who make him feel a little less alone in the world.

As a male omega (something that’s drawn mostly negative attention since he was old enough to present), Steve’s alone a lot.

His parents weren’t around much prior to his “unfortunate presentation,” but now they only pop in to take holiday family photos and pretend they’re good parents.

Then it’s back to some tropical island or big city where they can live the life they actually want.

Without a disappointing son.

So yeah, it’s been rough the last few years for Steve.

No real family or pack. Most of his friends stopped answering his calls when he lost his popularity or refused to sleep with them.

He’s a loner, but not by choice.

This is how he finally discovers the wonders of metal music.

Steve had overheard some geeky freshmen discussing a metal concert happening at the shitty bar in town that night.

The Hideout is notorious for not carding very well. His fake will be fine, even if half the town knows the Harrington’s omega son is only eighteen.

His interest is piqued.

A band called ‘Corroded Coffin’ is supposed to be playing. A group of local musicians who have the regular Tuesday night spot.

Steve’s there an hour early, charming his way past the scrutinizing gaze of the bouncer with a sweet smile and batted eyelashes. It usually works for him.

He then finds a barstool to wait on.

It’s a little warm in the bar, so much so that even the dim lights start feeling too bright.

Steve has felt on the edge of a cold for a while now. Never quite sick enough to call himself truly ill, but never quite feeling like himself either.

An occasional cough or runny nose. Minor things. Tolerable.

None of that is enough to keep him from the music. If he’s ill, then music is the cure to all his ailments.

There’s nothing in the world that can’t be remedied with a good rhythm and a catchy melody.

By the time Corroded Coffin is ready to start playing, Steve’s grown slightly impatient.

He’s almost bouncing in his shoes, antsy to move and dance and enjoy the music that’s beginning to come from the band on the tiny stage.

Steve notices right away that the members aren’t old enough to be here at The Hideout either. Primarily because they’re also students at Hawkins High.

Gareth, Jeff, Doug, and Eddie Munson.

He’s not had much interaction with any of them beyond watching Tommy pick on them, back when they used to be friends.

But he knows Eddie is the leader of his little group of freaks.

Steve’s fairly sure they all play some demon game too.

He may not be a part of any social groups any more, but Steve still hears gossip from others.

There’s also the matter of Eddie getting up on lunch tables and giving long, flashy, noisy speeches to the whole school about forced conformity and the repression of omegas in society.

For a while, he’s fairly sure everyone believed Eddie himself to be an omega (albeit, a nontraditional one) because of how he openly opposes strict secondary gender roles.

But that rumor was quickly cleared up by a fight between Jason and Eddie wherein alpha fangs came out.

He seems like an okay guy, if a bit strange.

Still, Steve knows enough about his own prior reputation to know he probably shouldn’t stick around for the show.

And yet.

The music keeps his feet planted firmly towards the front edge of the stage, filling his ears with booming riffs and drums.

It’s an addiction, the music.

Something powerful he takes many hits of, but it never seems to fully take the edge off, no matter how much he gets.

Steve stays for the whole set, eyes closed and head banging along with the drunks who’ve stumbled in off the street for liquor and a show.

When it finally stops, it’s hard to believe he’s been listening for almost an hour straight.

‘Getting lost in the music’ is an understatement for the way he feels.

As soon as the show is done, Steve’s energy is zapped. His legs feel suddenly weak and his heart is pounding away too fast.

The cold is catching up to him, leaving him with profound exhaustion and emptiness in its place.

Like maybe he’ll never feel normal or happy again.

A feeling of doom and despair washes over Steve. It’s not new, but it is miserable.

“Harrington?”

He blinks open his eyes.

When had he even closed them?

Steve attempts to straighten up and stop leaning against the nearest brick wall for support.

Eddie Munson is staring him down with a look of open confusion and hidden skepticism, as if maybe he’s mistaken about Steve’s identity in the dark bar.

“Munson,” he states with a shaky nod.

“Why are you here?” Eddie asks plainly.

It’s not a surprising question. This isn’t one of Steve’s usual joints, but apparently it is Eddie and his alpha friends’.

“I came for the music,” Steve answers truthfully.

“Our music?” Gareth joins in.

He nods, turning his body in the direction of the exit. ‘King Steve’ is long gone, but not everybody has allowed his past to stay there.

A group of four potentially hostile alphas staring Steve down isn’t the best idea, even if they haven’t given him a reason to bolt out of the place yet.

“Yeah, I heard you guys were good.”

He isn’t sure what else to reveal, but he still doesn’t feel well and this conversation is weird.

“We are,” Doug states, squinted gaze locked onto Steve like he’s the one who could be a threat.

As if he isn’t an omega facing four alphas.

“Right. I’ll— uh, just be going now,” Steve explains, trying to push by Eddie with no luck.

As soon as the older alpha puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him, Steve’s legs give out and he’s on the dirty bar floor.

“Whoa, what the hell? Are you okay?” Eddie asks, bending down to help him.

If only he could melt into the floor now. But Eddie’s arms are so nice wrapped around his waist and assisting him to stand. The alpha then leads him backstage, to what appears to be a green room of sorts.

It’s filled with musical equipment, but at least there’s a couch where he can sit.

Eddie sits right next to him, tucking Steve under his arm and holding him close.

“It appears the rumors are true then. King Steve really has no pack.”

The words aren’t said in a cruel manner, but it still breaks his heart a little to be reminded.

“What do you know about it?”

Eddie hums thoughtfully.

“Enough to realize you’re having a wicked case of isolation sickness and you’re gonna drop any minute now if we don’t take care of you properly,” Eddie replies, gesturing towards the rest of his band of friends until they’re all surrounding Steve.

“Why are you doing this?”

He’s openly crying now.

Jeff gives him a sad smile, rubbing his wrist against Steve’s neck gently.

“Because we know what it’s like to have our own pack look out for us. Whatever the hell happened with your old friends, we can’t leave an omega vulnerable like this. We’ll take care of you, Steve.”

Gareth takes hold of his hand.

Doug ruffles his hair, leaving a scent on the top of his head.

All of the Corroded Coffin boys are making sure Steve has physical contact and plenty of scents on him, assuring that his inner omega knows he has a pack around him.

It works fast, the combination of touches and instincts.

He hardly notices Eddie kissing his temple and murmuring sweet words to him about what a good omega he is until his body starts to feel like his own again.

"You're alright, Steve. Your alphas are gonna protect you, sweetheart."

"I really did like your music," he admits quietly.

The boys all chuckle at him, but not in an unkind way.

"Well, you're welcome to tag along to our shows anytime. You can be our first real groupie," Doug jokes.

Steve smiles at that.

It would be nice to have friends again. And it's not like he's got other places to be anyway.

"I'd like that."

Eddie gives his shoulder a squeeze and Steve leans right into the touch, laying his head on the alpha's shoulder in return.

All of the Corroded Coffin members are being so nice to him, even though he doesn't deserve it.

But the pull to be near Eddie is even stronger.

"What do you think about coming back to my place tonight, Stevie? The boys and I were planning on knocking back a few of my Uncle Wayne's beers and watching a sci-fi movie."

He nuzzles his face closer into Eddie's neck, using the action to nod his agreement to the proposed idea.

It takes a combination of efforts to get Steve safely onto Eddie's back so he can carry him out to his van (they also have to reassure the bartender that he's not being kidnapped).

But by the time they make it to Eddie's trailer, the alpha has mentally readied a ten step courting plan to implement on Steve.

#stmmm25 #stranger things march mating madness #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steve x eddie #a/b/o #omegaverse

480 notes · View notes

rensylph · 6 months ago

Text

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 ( 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐔 )

<< yandere genshin highschool Au >>

You are a student at teyvat high, a prestigious highschool only for the wealthy and the elite has managed to get in due to one of your family members managed for you to be a student in the school, little did you know your presence will catch the hearts of many students.

Characters : Diluc, kaeya, thoma, ayato, alhaitham, kaveh, childe, scaramouche, xiao, kazuha, albedo, venti

⚠️Warning : this may contain some NSFW, non con touching, stalking and other content you may found uncomfortable ⚠️

( English is not my first language )

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄

NAME : ( name ) ( last name )

CLASS : 2A

CLUB : music club

FAVORITE SUBJECT : ( your choosing )

( Name ) A second year student, a member of the music club, born from a middle class family has become an object of many students desires.

Diluc

A senior of yours, he is part of the student council. He is the son of a prestigious german family that owns a multi million wine company, is pretty popular in the school and is highly admired by the teachers due to his gentleman personality

Visit your band practice just to admire you play the instrument, he just stands there or takes a sit at one of the empty sits and just listens to you play your instrument without the bother of your other club members glaring at him.

Everyday for lunch he always buys extra grape juices just for you, as a sign of owner ship and glares daggers at his brother kaeya every time he tries to flirt with you. Every time a student approaches or talks to you other than him he will be jealous, so every time you approach he will have a hundred questions.

KAEYA

The adoptive brother of diluc, and also a third year your senior, local playboy of the school, many students including the girls have a huge crush on him and he also tends to flirt with anyone and find it amusing. He used him charms and good looks to enchant the entire school, he is also part of the fencing club in school

Very clingy and affectionate, he will hug you by the waist and every time you would complain on how uncomfortable it was, he would just brush it off and say you're being overdramatic there's nothing wrong with two people expressing emotion together.

Is actually insecure and has an infirior complex over his brother, diluc is a much more perfect candidate than him, hes the heir of the family company, has good grades and feels like diluc is much better than him. And this feelings torture him everyday. So every time he would try to one up with diluc for your affection

THOMA

A servant and student of the student council president ayato, and the only reason he manages to get it in is due to the kamisato siblings needing him at school hours. Basically a butler for the kamisato siblings as well doing the dirty work of the siblings.

Is heavily looked down on by the school's population, due to the school having a lot of high class students and the reason he's in the school is because the kamisato siblings lead him to be the subject for gossip and harsh remarks. Since your also reason to manage to get in the school is because one of your family members works at the school, you guys relate to being looked down upon by the schools

He will always bring an extra lunch box for you filled with special ingredients, he even bakes cupcakes for you with white frosting when you ask him what's inside he said its a secret, he can also play a guitar and sometimes you and him have a duet together. He doesn't tolerate anyone bad talking about your name so every time someone does it he will always give a "small" warning to them.

Ayato

Student council president as well the son and heir of a long rich and noble family, the elite of all. The school population swooned over him and he basked in their attention. You heard about him from the school multiple times but haven't seen him until you were accompanying Diluc to deliver some papers you finally met him personally

He would tend to make odd remarks to you like "I could just tie you up and not let you out of my sight" or "you're so cute, I could just shrink you down and let you live in my pocket" even tho this remarks are harmless you couldn't help the feeling actually meant those words 100% of all times. You Also have the feeling of being looked down upon by him, he doesn't look down on thoma since he knows what he's capable of.

Would give you head pats if you are done helping him, would also be found seeing you in band practice with diluc. He would invite you to fancy dinners in disguise as normal hang outs sometime the waiter identifies you as his girlfriend or fiance since you guys look like a couple, instead of correcting them he seems please as well if you do not join him he would make remarks of cutting budget on your club since he's the one that fund them.

Alhaitham

The school's number one in academics you can always expect him to be number one at any subject. the teacher's pet, his is willing to help the teachers with any task as long its not blocking his schedule. He is also brutally honest or doesn't know how to read the room or people, he's brain is always on its logical side.

Your professor asked alhaitham to tutor you because your grades have been falling recently, during tutoring alhaitham look down upon you for not understanding basic calculus but after the session you managed to ace your math test and received a head pat from him.

Soon it's normal for you and him to have a study session in your house or his apartment and you suspected he has a roommate since you found another room but he always gives a vague answer or not answer at all, but it always happens in your house soon you realize some of your clothing from your closet has started to disappear.

Kaveh

The art kid as well a person who is studying to be an architect, since alhaitham is the number one at academics. Kaveh is number two at academics behind alhaitham. Plus he excels at art and math more than alhaitham.

He's a passionate and kind person. He is very passionate about being an architect and perfection over his designs. You and him met during your first years at school where you saw him painting and the shine was shining and he was beautiful for a guy and a cough knocked you from your admiration. And that's how you and him met

He likes to make little trinkets for you a necklace and bracelets that are almost similar to his as well as small houses or hand crafted flowers basically small heartfelt hand crafts. He is obsessed with detail and so every gift has its meaning one of his favorites is an origami black rose.

Childe

It is a part of a gang of students called the fatui, and also the heir of a large toy company. He also excels at sports as a captain for the basketball team. By far he's a trouble maker always getting into fights the school is unable to do anything. Since he is by far one of principal's pierrot favorite students for some reason.

How did you guys meet, well you were accompanying your best friend lumine who's brother in the basketball team and you got hit by the head by the ball and knocked you out severely, when you wake up he was being lectured by your best friend. She was about to mole him alive until you woke up.

Every time you encounter him he will apologize every time and have an apology gift even tho the incident was a few months ago, he still gave you gifts for no apparent reason and how did he have the money to afford this much gifts he even gave you a necklace from swarovski that cost a lot. He will buy you lunch and he's very clingy as well.

Scaramouche

Also part of the gang that childe is part from, from a prestigious royal family. He was sent to live here by his mother who has a rocky relationship because he usually costs trouble for her until he learns to behave. Literally hates anyone and will roast and talk about how your existence ruins his day. You breathing next to him ruins his days.

Surprisingly he has friends who are kazuha a member of the literature club but he usually visits the music club to play the flute and who usually join him visiting your club, scaramouche and he usually makes criticism over how you play your instrument and how you suck at playing but why is he here, kazuha said to him that if his annoyed here he could leave but choose to stay you wonder why.

He makes small criticisms of you but you already have gotten used to it, and apparently he knows how to play the guitar. He easily gets jealous when other students or kazuha gets close to you one time you were teaching kazuha how to play the piano and your arm and his was touching and In the corner of your eye you could see scaramouche twitching with anger.

Xiao

Emo boy number #2, he's a part of the track field team, number one runner. He can be aggressive but he is not as much as scaramouche to be honest he's a decent guy just shy and doesn't know how to interact fully with anyone he can hold conversation but not that much.

He is very introverted and rarely interacts with anyone as long as it's someone who's close with him, he looks weak due to his short stature but he is very strong, known to bet up on some students who cause trouble. Him and childe usually have a spar

He would work as a body guard or protect you in the dark. You feel like watching at school or walking home from school it's xiao watching over you making sure you are safe.

Kazuha

One of your closest friends as well the chilliest person you ever met, he's in the same grade as you and you guys sit together. He's very well known in the entire school for his writings he's a very popular and chill guy that's what makes him likeable.

You guys sit together in class and sometime he would accidentally purposely rub his hands with you and when you look at him he would just give you a shrug or just basically act as if it was nothing.

He is well known for his writings right, and one of the most popular poetry he ever wrote was about love and about this person he had fallen in love with and wished to keep them from everyone and be the only one by their side, it's a pretty dark and twisted poetry about love. And every time when wrote about a poet of love he would have given you a glance at the crowd as if it was about you and for you.

Albedo

The smartest and one of the smartest guys at school, and very admired by the school and its population. Even tho some people find him weird it was overshadowed by his talents, people called him a genius who's on par with alhaitham on academics.

You guys were lab partners, and when you tried to help him he said you shouldn't and that this subject was easy so he told you just let him do all the work while you relax, it was an advanced subject. And the others were struggling while he was treating it like some sort of easy experiment.

He likes to draw and you have become one of his main inspirations, every detail of you has been drawn and it's almost looking at a picture by a camera.

Venti

A senior of yours and the leader of the music club. He's a master at any Instrument, a true embodiment of a music prodigy, his personal favorite instrument is the harp. He was originally recommended to the literature club but he rejected it but he does visit it regularly.

For a senior he is really clingy towards you, hugging you and always calling you his cute junior. You usually play together and he will point out some mistakes with your instrument but in a gentle way. And he told you how to hold or play your instrument while touching you in the hand.

He would be very clingy and gives he's rival a smirk while hugging you, he would play music for you and admire you while you're playing.

746 notes · View notes

katszumi · 1 year ago

Text

bakugou katuski wasn’t sure how you managed to break his shell. he didn’t find himself surrounded by friends— shitty hair, raccoon eyes and dunce face forced themselves around him so they didn’t really give him a choice (though he secretly appreciated it).

but, you, tenacious, vexatious, obnoxious, you found your way to him. he despised how easily you spoke to him, like a mother to a toddler. do you know who he is?

it was first year. bakugou knew who you were, how could he not miss the clamorous sound, also known as your voice, every morning. you were aggravating, but you were tolerable. he realized that when you two were paired for an assignment. you were assertive, deeming that you could hold your own against his trivial insults. it wasn’t admiration that struck him that day. no, not even close. you just earned a little bit of respect.

soon after, you were attached to his hip. why? he couldn’t even answer that. every morning you’d meet him halfway at a local coffee shop to make your trip to ua, because “who wants to walk alone?” was your reasoning. he didn’t believe your statement, but he disregarded it. in fact, he looks forward to his morning walks with you every night, sometimes even waking up earlier than usual to buy the two of you a beverage before you arrived. a decaf coffee for himself and an iced coffee for you. “i was thirsty. it’s just a one time thing.” was his answer when you first asked, but you and him both knew it wasn’t.

you two had daily conversations: mainly about school, how deku has ticked him off for the millionth time, or some stupid shit you brought up to irritate him as a joke. you were the only person he could converse with and not feel completely enraged by the end of it. he supposed that your voice wasn’t so clamorous after all.

it wasn’t until after class 1a moved into dorms that he started to notice things about you. instead parting your hair in the middle, you did a side part. you often switched the two every couple of days. you preferred sweet candy over sour, but you were obsessed with spicy food. you routinely listened to the same artists; he makes a mental note to force you to listen to new music. you always exercised in the training room at six o’clock on the dot, never a minute before or after.

bakugou knew he was fucked when he began looking for you.

movie night in the dorms lounge? he consistently searches for your figure, because if you’re not there he’s simply not going. choosing partners for an assignment? of course, it’s you, it has to be you. who else would be able to bear with him? a new album was released from his favorite rock band? he waits to listen, because you had to be there.

he even found himself doing stupid shit for you. like holding your backpack for you, because ‘it makes your back ache’. cooking for you because you’ve overworked yourself, you needed the nutrients anyway. helping you study for the next test, groaning at how easy it is and you should understand it, but deep down, he doesn’t mind. he’d save a spot for you next to him on the couch whenever everyone would do a group activities, you don’t deserve to sit on the floor like the rest of the extras.

bakugou was gentle when he was around you, everyone noticed it too. at first, it was a revelation to his classmates, surprised that bakugou could do such sweet things. it felt as if bakugou was painted a new man on a perfect canvas. but, they soon realized it was only you he was this way towards. his aggressive behavior remained with the rest.

though, the man himself didn’t realize his transformation until denki mentioned.

“how come you don’t yell at y/n, but you scream at us all the time?”

bakugou’s face contorted with confusion. that wasn’t true. “the fuck you talking about, dunce face?”

he shrugged, “i don’t know. i just feel like you’re more chill with her than any of us.” mina and kirishima co-signed his words with a nod of agreement.

silence surrounded the room, bakugou’s eyes planted on the floor.

he wanted to say because it’s you, beautiful, determinate, fierce, alluring, you. but, instead, the corner of his lip quirked up into a smirk, his eyes dawning onto the golden-haired boy in front of him.

“she’s bearable.”

like always, his words failed to convey his true emotions. bakugou katuski knew you weren’t just bearable. oh no. you were a million things more than that; you were his anchor to his crazed storm.

#bnha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x you #katsukibakugou #katsuki x y/n #mha x reader #mha #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugo x reader

2K notes · View notes

thechy-fychannel · 1 year ago

Text

Here's some fun facts about different characters from House that aren't canon but they're completely true (i just made them up)

Chase is lactose intolerant but eats insane amounts of dairy anyways bc he believes it increases his tolerance or smth idk

Taub was raised by his lesbian aunt(s)

Foreman was reigning champion of his schools spelling bee for all 4 years of highschool

Cameron once shoplifted a tube of lipgloss as a dare when she was a teen and she felt so guilty afterwards that she threw up. it still haunts her to this day

House doesn't like mushrooms (it's a texture thing)

Wilson's teachers tried to force him to write with his right hand as a kid so he's practically ambidextrous but his handwriting is god awful with either hand

Thirteen owns every single Alanis Morissette album

Kutner was actually one of the original developers behind Angry Birds

Cuddy was unbeatable at beer pong in college. She still is if you get enough liquor in her

Amber was a nanny for her first few years in med school and she hated it so much that she swore off ever having kids

Park was in her high school marching band and can play a mean trumpet

#chyanne speaks #house md #hate crimes md #gregory house #james wilson #robert chase #chris taub #allison cameron #remy thirteen hadley #lawrence kutner #lisa cuddy #amber volakis #chi park

613 notes · View notes

tomssexdoll · 10 months ago

Text

Under His Strings

PAIRINGS: Tom 2014 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom is Y/Ns private guitar teacher. One day when she shows up she couldn't get the song right, failing almost every time she played, she could sense his frustration and used it to her advantage, teasing him until breaking point.

A/N: ur all amazing ily

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), mutual masturbation (handjob, fingering), a lot of teasing, degrading, age gap (5 years)

Tom was my guitar teacher, I took private lessons with him, I do have to admit they were expensive but Tom always gave me a discount, calling me his favourite student. I loved every session with him, he was patient, gentle and funny, he always bought us food and let the lesson go overtime.

He was in a band when he was younger, retiring to teach people guitar. He was a bit older, 27 to be exact. I was only 22, looking to learn guitar as a little hobby, the city I lived in being super boring.

When I wasn't learning guitar with Tom, I was at school. I came in one day for my usual lesson, I sat down on his fancy, red leather couch, grabbing one of his guitars and setting it in my lap, waiting for him to show up.

Shortly after he entered the room, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me. He sauntered over, his muscular physique clearly visible under his grey shirt. He took notice of my smile and returned it with a charming smile, "good morning, ready for your lesson?" he sat down next to me, grabbing a guitar too and facing me.

I nodded, "yep! Let's get started," I smiled brightly, grabbing my notes sheet, looking at the song I was due to play. He chuckled at my enthusiasm, grabbing the aux and plugging them into the speakers and guitar.

"Alright then, pay attention to the chord progressions and let your fingers find the notes naturally," he looked up at me from his guitar, making sure my fingers were in the right spots.

I began to play the song, messing up a few times, not able to get the rhythm right. I could tell he was growing a little bit frustrated, I usually had the ability to catch on pretty quickly but this song was difficult.

He let out a deep sigh, "I know you can do better than this, try again," he watched me play again, yet there was no improvement, only worsening due to the pressure of him watching me.

"Tom I can't!" I sighed, frowning deeply, his expression turned stern, eyes narrowing as he studied my performance, "can't or wont? Because right now, it looks like you're not even trying," he reached out, taking my hand, his large fingers wrapping around mine as he placed it on the fretboard. "You have potential Y/N, sometimes you just...don't try hard enough," he kept his hand on mine for a little too long, rubbing his thumb over my skin.

"Tom you don't understand, I am trying!" I whined, upset with how strict he was being. His eyes flashed with a hint of anger, his grip on my hand tightening tightly.

"Understand? I understand that you're struggling, but that's no excuse for mediocrity, I've taught you well and will not tolerate this from you," he leaned in, "whatever..." I muttered, pulling my hand away from his and focusing on my guitar again.

I started to play again, Tom watching me for a few moments, his expression unreadable. He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he observed my progress. "No, no, no. You're still rushing the chorus. Slow down, take your time with it," I grunted and set the guitar aside, "well I can't help it if you're watching me like a fucking hawk!" I raised my voice, my tone laced with frustration.

He raised an eyebrow at my outburst, scooting closer. He took a deep breath, leaning forward to place a hand on my knee, "that's enough. I'm just trying to help you improve, let's try again," he looked into my eyes, reaching up and gently squeezing my shoulder before letting go and handing my guitar back to me.

Tom watched me intently, his eyes following every move I made as I played. He nodded along to the rhythm, occasionally offering a suggestion here or there, but for the most part he observed in silence. At times, he even moved closer to me, seemingly drawn in by your performance.

As I finished he spoke up, "that's it, well done, all you're stuck on is the chorus, come here, let me help," he turned me around, coming up behind and wrapping his arms around me, placing his hands on mine, "there we go, now let's start.." he whispered gently.

His chest pressed against my back as he adjusted my grip on the guitar and helped me strum the strings, his breath was hot against my ear as he whispered instructions, sending tingles down my spine, "see, it's all about timing and rhythm," he smirked, I bit my lip and nodded, feeling the tension start to build, the air thickening.

I kept strumming, purposefully getting it wrong to tease him. His grip on my hands tightened as I kept getting it wrong. His patience started to wear thin, his body tensing behind mine as he tried to control his anger, "no, no no, like this"

I kept messing it up, a small smile tugging at my lips, "like this?" I turned to look at him, our faces inches away. His eyebrows furrowed, his grip on my hand tightening even more as he tried to control his growing frustration. His chest heaved against mine as he took a deep breath, "stop fucking around and listen to me," he growled lowly.

"Sorry Tom.." I batted my eyelashes, putting on a fake innocence to drive him crazy. I backed my ass into his crotch, softly grinding into his erection, "so, do i do the chords like this?" I smirked, playing the guitar right for a moment.

His breath hitched as he felt me grind against him, his cock slowly hardening . He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure, "yes, just like that.." he murmured, his voice strained.

He tried to adjust himself discreetly, but I could feel him twitching against me. I smirked as he cleared his throat, trying to play it off, "okay Tom.." I kept grinding softly, at one point pushing my ass into his crotch.

"Tom I just can't get it right!" I whined, he hissed softly as he felt my ass digging into his hard cock, a rush of pleasure shooting through him. He tightened his grip on the guitar to try and distract himself, but it was no use. "Here, let me help you," he whispered softly, holding back a moan.

I nodded, feeling his hands gently move towards my hips, holding them tightly, guiding me to lean forward over the guitar. His breath quickened as he positioned me just right, so that his bulge pressed firmly against my ass. He could feel my warmth through his pants as he ran his fingers up and down my sides, teasing me softly.

I gasped, "keep teaching me.." I moaned softly, feeling his lips graze over my neck as he mumbled a low "ok..", his grip tightened on me, trying to guide my fingers on the guitar. His breath hitched as the friction against his aching cock became too much to bear.

I moved my hand behind me, towards his crotch, gently rubbing his bulge, causing him to let out a sharp breath, his hips jerking involuntarily, seeking more friction against my soft touches. "Not yet.." he warned, his voice low and husky, "focus on your lesson."

I smirked and returned my hands back to the thin strings of the guitar, gently strumming and slowly playing the song, "I can't get it right!" I grunted, turning to look at him again, his forehead covered in sweat, his breath ragged.

His eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and desire, not understanding why I was teasing him like this, was I purposefully fucking up the chords? Was he crazy for thinking I was teasing him?

He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, "stop teasing and focus," I smirked, "you look tense Mr Kaulitz, what's wrong?" I said innocently, knowing damn well why he was acting like that.

He grunted lowly, I had lit a fire in him that he couldn't extinguish, "I'm not tense..." he growled, trying so hard to not just grab me, bend me over and fuck me until I couldn't walk straight.

"Are you sure?" I moved my hand to his crotch again, gently rubbing his erection, "you seem upset Tom.." his patience finally snapped, throwing the guitar aside and roughly spinning me around to face him.

His hands gripped my shoulders firmly as he glared down at me with a mix of anger and lust in his eyes. "Stop it, or I'll take you right here and now, do you want that? Do you want me to fuck you on this couch?.." he grunted, "what if i do..." I smirked, leaning in closer.

His anger boiled over and in a flash, he grabbed me by my wrist and yanked me towards him. His other hand cupped my face, digging his fingers into my skin as he slammed his lips against mine in a brutal, punishing kiss, "fucking teasing slut..." he grumbled, pulling me flush against his body.

His hands moved up and down my sides, gripping me tightly as he kissed me again, his lips moving passionately against mine, his tongue demanding entry. His hands squeezed my hips as he deepened the kiss, his tongue dominating mine in a heated dance, "you have no fucking idea what you do to me.." he grunted, moving his lips towards my neck, gently sucking.

"Tom.." I gasped, my mouth slightly agape as I wrapped my hand around the back of his head, gently tugging at his hair as he kissed my neck. He let out a low growl against my skin, knowing he had me right where he wanted me. His hands roamed down to the hem of my shirt, slowly lifting it up to expose my stomach and chest.

My tits hid behind my bra, his hands desperately tugging it off, revealing my breasts, my nipples hard. His gaze dropped to my exposed breasts, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he took in the sight.

His hands immediately move to cup and squeeze them firmly, drawing a gasp from my lips at the mixture of pleasure and slight pain. "Fuck, you're so fucking beautiful," he murmured.

He moved his hands back to my waist, pulling me swiftly onto his lap. I moved my hand down to his erection again, feeling his cock throb in his pants, "you want me to touch you, hm?" I whispered, moving my lips to his neck, gently kissing the skin.

He let out a strangled groan as I rubbed his aching cock, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing through him. His hands tightened on my waist, pulling me closer against him as he grinded into my touch, "yes, fuck...touch me, baby. I need it," he grumbled, I smirked and hummed in approval, quickly unbuttoning his pants and hooking my fingers around the waistband, dragging them down.

I hovered over his lap as he helped push his pants down further, letting them fall to his feet. His cock strained against his boxers, begging to be let free. I shoved my hands into his underwear, pulling his cock out, his tip glistening with pre cum.

A guttural moan escaped him as my fingers wrap around his aching cock, the feeling of my touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through his veins. His eyes rolled back slightly, a sheen of sweat forming on his brow as he arched into my grasp.

I started to move my hands up and down his shaft, small ragged gasps coming from his lips. As I kept jerking him off I felt his fingers slowly snake to my hips, down to my lower stomach and into my panties, running his fingers along my sopping folds.

A shudder ran through Tom as my hands work his cock, each stroke igniting a fire in his loins. The feeling of my slick heat against his fingers as he explored my panties was intoxicating, groaning low in his throat, "jesus, you're so wet for me already.." he leaned in, whispering against my lips.

I gently pressed my lips against his, whining as I felt his fingers enter me slowly. His lips devoured mine, his tongue slipping in to dance with mine as his fingers delved deeper into my wet heat "fuckkk...so tight and wet..taking my fingers so well baby.." he groaned, breaking the kiss for a second to spit dirty words at me, feeling my inner walls flutter around his fingers. His cock pulsed in my hand, straining towards release.

I moaned against his lips, continuing to stroke his cock, my pace quickening as I felt his fingers curl inside my pussy, teasing my g spot and sending shivers down my spine, "Tom...mmh..."

"You like that baby? You like when I finger this tight cunt?" he whispered, his breath fanning on my face. I nodded, whining softly as the pleasure built up, he broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he looked down at me with a dark, hungry gaze. His fingers worked inside me, pumping and curling to hit that sweet spot that made me clench around him.

He growled lowly as I worked his cock with renewed vigour, my hand flying up and down his throbbing shaft. The dual sensation of his fingers inside me and my hand on his dick almost too much to handle. "Fuck, yeah...Just like that you dirty slut.." he said, his voice laced with desire.

I felt my release quickly build up, my pussy clenching and throbbing around his fingers, soaking them in my juices. "Cum for me..let go baby.." he moved his lips down to my neck, placing sloppy kisses all over the skin, sucking gently and leaving marks in his path.

"Gonna cum baby...cum with me.." he said through gritted teeth, thrusting up into my hand, his thick cock moving up and down in my hand viciously, precum beading at his tip, his release dangerously close, ready to erupt at any second.

His cock throbbed in my hand, cum shooting across my stomach and breasts as he groaned, clenching his teeth, his pace never faltered even after his orgasm, only going harder, his thrusts erratic and cruel.

I threw my head back, moaning loudly as my orgasm came crashing down, my hole clenching tightly as my juices spilled all over his fingers.

"Fuck yes..that's it baby.." he groaned, removing his fingers from my cunt and moving them up to his mouth, gently sucking all the slick off with a pleasured hum, his chest heaving with extortion "mmh...you taste so sweet.." his eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took in the sight of my pleasure drenched face.

After calming down from our earth shattering orgasms, he gently laid me back on the couch, climbing on top of me. His gaze darkened as he saw me ready for him, his possessiveness flaring as he pinned my wrists above my head, his cock still hard against my thigh. "You're mine, understand? Mine to fuck, mine to use however I please.." he said, his voice just above a whisper, taunting me.

"Yes Tom.." I nodded softly, looking up at him, my pussy aching for his cock. A wicked grin spread across his face as he saw the desperation in my eyes. His grip on my wrists tightened, his thumbs brushing over my pulse points.

"Good girl..." he lined up his cock, the head pressing against my entrance. He slowly entered me, inch by inch stretching me out, "ah! fuck!" I gasped, squirming in his grip. He let go of my wrists, his hands snaking to my hips instead, holding them in place.

A low grumble rumbled in his chest as he felt my warm enveloping him, "fuck, yes..You're so tight, so perfect..." he thrusted himself deeper inside me, setting a steady and dominating pace, "you belong to me now, understand?" he growled, reaching up and grabbing a fistful of my hair.

"Mmhm!" I whined, his eyes flashed with excitement, his thrusts becoming more forceful and deliberate. "You like that, don't you? Being fucked like a little slut..being fucked by your guitar teacher.." he leaned in, his hot breath against my ear, making my skin prickle.

I whined, not being to answer because of all the pleasure I was receiving, he chuckled deeply at my helpless response, pounding into me with reckless abandon, his cock throbbing inside me as he chased his climax.

I wrapped my arms around him and dug my nails into his back, the pain causing him to groan lowly. As much as he enjoyed the pleasure, he also enjoyed the pain.

The couch creaked and shuddered beneath us, a symphony of flesh slapping against flesh and my mingled moans and cries. He couldn't get enough of me, his body craving more with every thrust, "take it all, fuck.." he grunted, pulling my hair tighter, diving down into my neck and leaving rough, sloppy kisses.

He groaned into the crook of my neck, slamming into me with renewed ferocity, driven by the sweet torment of my nails and the desperation in my moans.

"Come for me, love. Let me feel you cum on my cock.." he groaned, the sound reverberating through his chest as he slammed into me with brutal force, he reached down with his spare hand and gently rubbed my clit, his cock twitching and throbbing in my needy cunt, signalling his impending release.

"Mmmh! Fuck!" I gasped, the feeling of being pleasured in 2 different ways at the same time driving me crazy, arching my back to meet his vicious thrusts.

His thrusts become erratic, powerful and ruthless, the couch slamming into the wall beside it with each brutal plunge. I felt my stomach turn in knots, my climax dangerously close with his.

His grip on me tightened as he slammed into me one final time, his cock erupting deep inside me, yelping my name. His hot seed flooded my pussy, painting my inner walls as he rode out his climax, lost in the intense pleasure of claiming me so thoroughly.

The feeling of being filled triggered my orgasm, I moaned loudly and came all over his cock, my juices spilling down it. He collapsed on top of me with a grunt, our chests heaving in unison, trying to calm down from another shared, mind blowing orgasm.

After a few minutes he gently shifted his weight off me, but remained lying close, settling behind me. His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me into his chest. His breath still heavy as he recovered from the intense love making.

He reached out to gently stroke my hair and whispered, "I can't get enough of you, my love, we have to book you more classes during the week," I smirked, "oh do we? And what will we do Mr Kaulitz?" I taunted, turning around and looking up at him.

"Mmhh..." he gave a sly smile, his eyes glinting with mischievous intent, "ah...I have a few extracurricular activities in mind.." he leaned in, his voice taking on a conspiratorial tone.

"Oh you do?" I giggled, "and what are those activities," I whispered against his lips. His hands wandered down my body, tracing the curves of my hips and waist before pulling me closer against him. He nipped at my bottom lip, his voice husky with desire.

"Mmmh...exploring every inch of your body, making you scream my name as I take you roughly.." he grinned, "oh really? I don't think that's very appropriate Mr Kaulitz, you're my guitar teacher after all," I said, continuing to taunt and tease him.

"Oh shut up.." he chuckled, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. I deepened the kiss, feeling his tongue invade my mouth, his hands roaming my body, caressing and exploring, as he pulled away from the kiss he looked at me with a heated gaze.

"Let's get you cleaned up love, i'll drive you home.." he pecked my lips before grabbing a tissue from the coffee table in front of us, wiping all the cum he had spurted on my tits and stomach from before, then moving down to my pussy and cleaning the cum dripping out.

He helped me put my clothes on, fixing up my hair and holding my waist as I walked, my legs close to giving out, trembling slightly with every step.

tags: @ballhair @kaulitzswhxre @tomsonlyslut

tags: @billsdolliest @pa1n-0f-l0ve @tomscumdoll

tags: @bills-wife-1 @bkaulitzlover @ella1289 @tomsfuckdoll

Tags: @miyukafujii

214 notes · View notes

oacest · 7 months ago

Text

Oasis' Noel Gallagher is like a bad boyfriend. He doesn't call when he says he will, and when he does show up, it's usually too early or too late. With a new album - "Don't Believe the Truth," out Tuesday - and a pending worldwide tour, he's too busy these days to squeeze chats in between television interviews in Paris and jumping on the Eurostar back to London. But like any bad boyfriend, once you get him on the line, he's as charming as all get out. Cocksure, glib and playful, he's without any of the mean spiritness you might expect from the outspoken rock 'n' roll star whose well-documented battles with other bands and his younger brother Liam are what rock legends are made of. Don't believe the stories, Noel says. "It often sounds to me a lot more vicious than it is," says on the way to a London gig. "It's all said very tongue-in-cheek, ya know? But when it's in black and white, obviously you don't see the smirk on [our] faces when [we're] saying it." But don't expect the bash brothers to let up on the fighting any time soon. "It's something that comes naturally to me," he says, adding, "I quite enjoy it as well." Recently Noel said Liam was like a woman with constant PMS, while Liam called Noel a "f---in' smug c---." But Noel wasn't upset. In fact he embraced it. "Well I am a f---in' smug c---," he says, with a smirk. "Wouldn't you be?" Sure, why not? The Manchester band's latest disc is being heralded as their best effort in years - a return to old-school Oasis - and the four-piece Brit-poppers sold out their first Madison Square Garden date, on June 22, in an hour. "It's quite amazing. I'm quite upset we didn't do it before," he says. "We don't want to go slapping each other on the back yet. We haven't done the gig yet." Oasis wants to make sure they aren't rusty. The band hasn't released anything in three years. They recorded an album with electronica duo Death in Vegas as producers, but scrapped the effort. "The songs weren't good enough. It's as simple as that really," Noel says. How did he know? He gets help from his five-year-old daughter Anais. "She said, 'Daddy I like that one. It's cool. Record that one,'" he says with a devilish laugh. "Of course, that's not true. It would be great though, wouldn't it?" They're also getting older. Noel turns 38 today, but he hates celebrating birthdays and doesn't exchange presents with his brother any time of the year. At times he seems like he only tolerates Liam. "He's good to be in a band with, but I wouldn't go down to bingo with him," he says. In fact, if they weren't brothers, Noel and Liam wouldn't be in the same band anymore. "If I didn't have a band with relatives in it I would be solo, beyond a shadow of a doubt," Noel says. That said, Noel says he looks out for Liam, as an older brother should. "I wouldn't like to leave Liam on his own," he says. "He'd get in too much trouble." Awww. That's so nice. "It is, innit," Noel says.

-NY Post, May 29, 2005

#noel #quote #noel on liam #it is innit

103 notes · View notes

damnfandomproblems · 6 months ago

Note

In response to Fandom Problem #6253:

"Not when somebody says something negative about a problematic piece of media you like"

Purity culture is, in fact, also about this. Fear over people's moral "purity" of thought leads to a severe restriction of freedom of speech and castigation of people that break those boundaries. It's the reason Henry Miller and D.H. Lawrence were banned for decades. It's the reason Republicans are trying to get the most innocuous boy love Mangas banned from schools and purging queer books from school libraries.

It's the reason fundamental Christians burned HP books in the late 90s and early 00s, and eschew even Disney movies for mention of magic today. It's the reason for the Satanic Panic and the idiotic fear around D&D and heavy metal music causing Devil worship and video games causing violence, all of which has been long since disproved. It's the reason there were groups of panicked mothers nation wide protesting the band KISS and why Fox News lost their minds over 2 seconds of blue alien side boob in Mass Effect.

It's the reason that every single public fanfiction archive before Ao3 got purged of anything queer whether it was adult content or just two teens confessing their feelings. The reason even heterosexual erotica, the most popular published genre, got banned or purged. It's the reason for the Tumblr and DeviantArt porn and erotica art ban. It's the reason Ao3 has a team of lawyers and has faced multiple online attacks over the last few years.

The same reason people in less tolerant countries are legitimately terrified of their fiction preferences being found out. It's the same bloody reason Salman Rushdie has a 3 million pound price on his head and lost an eye only 2 years ago to an assassination attempt.

Noticing a pattern of extremism that has its roots in religious "purity" culture managing to trickle into even the most insular of fandom communities isn't a misuse of the term purity culture. It's a complete understanding of its give an inch, and it'll take a mile mentality. Most "proshippers" if not all, are simply advocates for freedom in expression in fiction, usually because its a reflection of the health of a community and a nation's/culture's embrace of the principles of freedom of speech. When we notice an uptick in witch hunts over, of all things, fiction of more fiction, we aren't fear mongering to call it out, we're acting as canaries in a coal mine against something that we've seen invade our spaces over and over and over again and are trying to stop it.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

#fandom problem 6253 #response to previous problem #mod sf

65 notes · View notes

hellfirenacht · 2 years ago

Text

Wing Man Part 2

No beta, we die like men and edit in post.

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Steve go hang out at the Palace Arcade with a bunch of high schoolers and pit two against each other in air hockey.

5.5k words

Series Master List

Part 1

Steve learned more in the next half hour about Eddie Munson than he ever wanted to know. Eddie had been in a band since middle school, and he played guitar. Eddie hadn’t started the Hellfire Club, but had taken it over three years ago and had been the designated DM ever since. Eddie probably sold drugs, but wouldn’t sell to freshmen. Eddie had picked out Dustin and Mike in the lunchroom after they had been banished from every other table. Eddie knew everything about metal music and sometimes skipped class to sleep in his van. Eddie lived in a trailer with his uncle Wayne and was probably going to graduate this year. Eddie was just so cool and Dustin clearly looked up to him.

Eddie also had long hair. Well, at least that was something you had been specific about.

“Do you think he’d be interested in going on a date with her?” Steve asked after Dustin had finished gushing about Eddie.

“Maybe?” Dustin said. “He doesn’t talk about his dating life much. We mostly just talk about music and D&D.”

Steve could have strangled him. “Dustin, you just spent the past half hour talking about him, knowing that this was to help her get a date. What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Look, I’m just giving you the information I have.” Dustin said. “If you want you could come to a Hellfire meeting and bring her along to meet him.” Once again he had a shit-eating grin that Steve was quickly losing tolerance for.

“We don’t go there anymore, we’re not gonna be allowed on campus.” Steve said. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, help set up some sort of meeting outside of school?”

Dustin thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Sidequest day!” he said.

“Side- what?”

“Sidequest day! Sometimes Hellfire Club will meet up at the arcade to play games. Eddie will sometimes give buffs or inspiration for the game if we win tickets or get a high score.” Dustin explained.

“You’re speaking an alien language, Henderson.” Steve sighed.

“Just come to the arcade next Saturday and bring her.” Dustin instructed. “We can introduce them, and you can try and play matchmaker.”

It was as good a plan as any, and more importantly it was convenient. It would probably mean skipping out on a potential date but you’d already done so much for him that he’d be willing to give up a Saturday night to help you. He just needed to get you one date, and if that happened to be with Eddie Munson of all people then so be it.

“Fine, we’ll be there.” Steve agreed.

“Good!” Dustin smiled. “Now, about the campaign he’s running-”

Steve would let Dustin ramble for the rest of the shift about the campaign until you came out to politely kick Dustin out when you and Steve closed.

Going out on a Saturday night proved to be more tricky than expected. You were the only one who could reliably work on Saturday nights, being the only one willing to do so. It had taken a lot of pushing and some bribery to have Keith agree to take your shift for the night. He owed you anyway for all the times you had covered for him.

Steve hadn’t told you the full truth about what the plan was. He had only said that since you were a weirdo, he’d take you to the arcade where other weirdos might be. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to you since you’d been to the arcade plenty of times and it was mostly kids there. It didn’t seem like the ideal spot to flirt with guys, but he knew more about this stuff than you did.

He told you to meet him outside the arcade at 6:30, and to look good. You had insisted that you always looked good, but you at least made sure to wear something that made you feel confident and followed up the same with your hair and make up. When was the last time you had an excuse to really put in effort? You looked presentable at work, but this was different. Your reflection in the mirror after you had put yourself together made you feel good. Even if tonight was a total bust on the flirting front, at least you knew you looked good.

It was 6:20 when you showed up at the arcade, and Steve showed up at 6:35. The past fifteen minutes had you watching excited kids and tired parents and disgruntled older siblings enter the building. If you were going to be completely honest, this didn’t seem very promising.

“So, I’m going to be frank with you, everyone here looks either way too young or too old for me.” you said as you both made your way inside. “The only person I’ve seen close to my age hanging around here is Keith and, Harrington, I swear if your end of the bargain is making me go on a date with him, I am firing you on the spot.”

“You can’t fire me.” Steve snorted.

“I can set you on fire.”

“I’m not setting you up with Keith!” he promised, holding his hands up. “I just think that this is a place where a lot of weirdos could hang out. And hey, if there’s no one here that’s interesting we could at least play some games or something.”

“Steve, I have a very serious question for you.” You turned to look him dead in the eyes. “This isn’t you trying to be my date, right? I know you’ve been overloading on romcoms with all the dates you’ve been going on. Please tell me this isn’t some sort of half-ass way to take me on an arcade date so you can say you got me a date.”

“What? No. You’re the one watching too many romcoms here.” Steve accused. “You turned me down, I get it, you have terrible taste. I accept this about you- ow!”

Steve winced as you smacked the back of his head. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure. Let’s just play some games for now, I’m really not seeing anyone our age around here.”

As the two of you made your way around the arcade, Steve kept an eye on the time. Dustin had told Steve that ‘Sidequest Day’ (whatever that meant) would be starting at 7:00. He just needed to keep you entertained for a half hour and then the club would show up.

Lucky for him, you were actually very easy to keep entertained. You bounced around from game to game, with eager enthusiasm often getting distracted by the many blinking lights and sounds from all the machines. You didn’t even notice it when a group of guys walked in all wearing the same shirt.

Steve noticed though.

“Henderson!” He called out, casually.

“Steve!” Dustin walked up to him. “What a surprise, I did not expect to see you at the arcade tonight!”

You looked up from a cabinet that you were considering playing, that was a weird tone of voice Dustin had used. One that seemed- no it was suspicious. Steve and Dustin had definitely planned on meeting here tonight. They really were not as smooth as they thought they were. But who were you to spoil a plan? You decided to roll with it.

“Hey, Dustin!” You said walking over to the pair. “Good to see you again.”

“They let you leave the Family Video?” Dustin asked. “The way Steve talked, you’d think they kept you chained to the front desk.”

“Union rules say that they have to let me leave at least once a week for mandatory enrichment time.” you joked. “Somehow I got lucky and got a Saturday off.”

You looked over Dustin, and his bright open button up on top of his Hellfire Club shirt. You had vague memories about that club in high school.

“Hellfire Club... I remember that from when I was in school.” you said after a moment. “Yeah, wasn’t it Chris Morrison that ran it?” You turned towards Steve.

“How would I know? I was popular.” Steve said.

“Yeah, I think he was the leader until he graduated and then Eddie took over.” Dustin said, looking down at his shirt. “I think he said that the club was a lot smaller back then.”

“Yeah well Chris was a dick who didn’t actually want anyone joining his super secret club.” you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Wait, you knew him?” Dustin’s eyes widened.

“That’s a strong word, but we were in the same grade. I tried to ask him about the club once but he blew me off and told me I wasn’t smart enough to understand the game. So I got a copy of the rule book and spent the next few weeks memorizing it out of spite.” you snorted.

Steve looked at you like you had lost your mind (fair), and Dustin looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said (impressed).

“...Anyway, I see a lot of the same shirt running around now. I take it that Hellfire isn’t as closed off now?” you asked.

“Uh, yeah!” Dustin said. “The new leader- Eddie- he’s a lot more open to people joining. He’s the one who invited me and Mike to join.”

You looked over at where Mike was leaning over a cabinet in concentration. He didn’t come into Family Video as often as Dustin did to bother Steve, but he had come in enough for you to witness the kid shoot up about a foot in the past few months.

“It’s alarming how fast he’s growing.” you said. “Well, I’m glad that it’s more open now and that you’re having fun with it.”

“Yeah, Eddie’s great, you should meet him!” Dustin said.

You stared at him, and slowly looked over to Steve whos’ face had met his palm.

“Steve.” you said slowly. “Did you bring me to the arcade to meet a highschooler?”

“He’s twenty!” Both Dustin and Steve said in unison. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You knew that the dating pool would be limited for you, but you didn’t think it would be that narrow. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if Dustin and Steve both vouched for this guy it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Oh boy.” you sighed. “Alright, I’ll play along. Does this guy know I’m supposed to be meeting him?”

“Nope!” Dustin said. “He doesn’t have a clue.”

“Wait, did you tell Dustin about our deal, Steve?” you asked.

“I needed help and he happened to have a new older male friend that happens to be a freak.” Steve said nonchalantly. Well, this was going to be a very interesting night.

“He’s more than just a freak, you know.” frowned Dustin.

You racked your brain trying to think back to your time in high school, trying to remember if you knew any Eddie’s. In all honesty, you never were good at noticing people outside of your own circle of friends. How some people seemed to know everyone's full name and popularity rank was beyond you. Hawkins High had 2000 students, like how did people even know that much? Who had the time? Who cared?

While Dustin and Steve continued their odd squabble, you looked around the arcade for this mystery person. Nope, still nothing but not-age-appropriate high schoolers. Oh well, the Q*bert cabinet was free, and playing a round was better than standing around nervously to meet someone who had no idea they were being set up to meet you.

Damn, poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into tonight. You felt a little bad that you were potentially crashing his club’s night out. If this went bad, you were putting Steve on backroom duty for a month.

“Where are you going?” Dustin asked as you walked off.

“I’m gonna play a game,” you said, putting your quarter in the machine. “Let me know when this guy shows up because I cannot take the suspense.”

“You know, this is why it’s hard to get you a date. You keep saying you’re interested and then the second you have a chance to meet someone you change the subject.” Steve sighs, leaning against the machine.

“Who are you, my therapist?” You asked, focusing on the game. “I know you’re right. If I’m going to be completely honest with you I am actually nervous about meeting someone. I’m sure that it’ll be fine and I have no real expectations but it’s still hard to put yourself out there.”

“I’ve been putting myself out there for months and had a two month dry streak.” he pointed out as Dustin stepped behind you and watched you play.

“You’re King Steve. People will like you no matter if they date you or not. You’re popular, as you love to keep reminding me.” You didn’t take your eyes from the screen.

“Yeah, well I was also a total dick in high school.” Steve admitted. “I fucked up a lot and pissed a lot of people off because I thought I was hot shit. If you want the honest truth, I’d probably be a better person if I hadn’t tried so hard to be popular. It took getting my ass kicked for me to realize that.”

“It’s true, he got his ass beat a lot this summer.” Dustin piped up which earned a glare from Steve.

You thought this over, the movement of the character on screen helping you think. “If I wasn’t enough for anyone in Hellfire when I was a junior, if I wasn’t enough for the freaks when I was a weirdo in school, why would I be now?”

“Because Chris Morrison was a dick!” Dustin yelled out, far louder than he really should have.

“Jesus, Dustin we are right here!” you said, shaking your head.

“Henderson is right.” a new voice said from behind you. “Morrison was the biggest asshole that Hellfire has ever seen. Worst DM too.”

The voice was lower in tone than Steve’s, and there was an energy to it that made everything else background noise. This new person was very sure of themselves, and you had a very bad feeling of who was going to be standing behind you as soon as you turned around.

You focused even harder on the game.

“I had one conversation with him in Junior year and promised myself to never talk to him again.” you said, trying to calm yourself. He definitely did not sound like a high schooler, which was a good sign. You risked a glance at Steve who looked like he didn’t know what to make of the newcomer. That was a bad sign. Maybe.

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have kept talking to him if I could have helped it.” This voice- you were going to just assume it was Eddie, said. “I didn’t think you were the type to hang out at the arcade, Harrington.”

“I’m not.” Steve said. “I am only here for a friend.” Steve gestured to you, smacking your hand on ‘accident’ and making you die. “Whoops.”

It was clear he had done that completely on purpose. Backroom duty for a week.

“Thanks, Steve.” you said and turned around slowly to face this new person.

Oh, you were going to murder Steve Harrington into the ground dead. The man before you- and he was definitely a man- was unfortunately for you, completely your type. Long wavy brown hair fell just past his shoulders onto a denim vest covered in buttons and patches over a leader jacket. He was also wearing a Hellfire Club t-shirt and you glanced a quick look at his ripped jeans and wallet chain.

You wished that you would have warned Steve that you were never your types’ type. This was doomed before it even started. But that was a freeing thought in a way, you weren’t going to be this guy's type so that meant you didn’t have to try. If Steve could hear your thoughts, he’d probably get pissed at you for already giving up, but that was fine.

“Oh uh, Eddie, this is Steve and his co-worker.” Dustin said, introducing you by your name and title. “They both went to Hawkins High.”

“Nice to meet you.” you reached out and offered your hand, and he took it. Eddie’s hand was warm and you got a glance at chunky silver rings on his fingers. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite read; he was smiling but also seemed to be studying you.

“I know who King Steve is.” Eddie said in a way that made Steve roll his eyes. “When did you go to school?” he asked.

“I graduated in ‘83.” you said, looking at him. His eyes were very round and expressive, and he was still studying you. There was something familiar about him that you couldn’t place your finger on. Then again, he was only a little younger than you so you probably saw him in school.

That was good enough for Eddie as he dropped your hand and turned back to Dustin. “So, Henderson. Are you going to keep standing there talking, or are you going to earn that magic dice roll you’ve been talking about all week?”

You’d never seen Henderson look nervous around Steve, but there was tension in Dustin’s shoulders as Eddie talked to him. But you didn’t get the sense that it was a bad thing, Eddie seemed... intense. With Steve, Dustin was always ready to bicker with and defy. With Eddie, he was ready to hop to it, whatever it was.

Geeze, no wonder Steve was jealous.

“Yup!” Dustin said quickly. “I’m just gonna go, go over there and find something to play.” He glanced at you pointedly before hurrying off in Mike’s direction.

“So, my friend here actually had an interest in Hellfire Club back in the day.” Steve said before Eddie could turn and leave. Eddie looked at you in surprise.

No one would find Steve’s body after you were done with it.

“Really?” Eddie said. “And what about our little club was so interesting to you?”

You didn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes glanced at Steve. That was a look you understood all too well, it was one you’d given many a popular kid back in the day. Eddie thought Steve was being a dick, and for good reason. That was the look you’d given when someone came up to you and said ‘my friend thinks you’re cute’. Except now you were the friend.

There was no going back now, you couldn’t let that tension be his first impression of you. Steve had set you up to be honest and vulnerable right off the bat. Great.

“Yeah, I asked Chris about joining back then.” you said honestly. “I’d had an interest in D&D, but never had a chance to play. But he shot me down pretty hard, so I... didn’t.”

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he looked down at you. “That doesn’t surprise me.” he said. “He was a bigger cynic than I am, and wouldn’t give anyone outside Hellfire the time of day. He didn’t even talk to anyone after he graduated.”

His gaze didn’t leave yours and it almost felt like there was a spotlight on you. Or maybe one of those lamps that you’d see in movies when someone was being interrogated. Eddie might have relaxed but you had a feeling that Steve being here wasn’t exactly winning you points. But Steve was also your friend, which made things a bit complicated.

Damn, why did you always have to be the one to bend over backwards to impress a guy? This is why you stopped dating in high school. Oh wait, this guy didn’t even know he was supposed to be making an impression. Looks like you were going to have to be the one to take the lead on this one.

Not that it mattered, because as previously stated, this was already dead on arrival.

The conversation immediately stagnated, as anything interesting you could have possibly said died in your throat. You could feel Steve’s gaze boring into your skull now, willing you to say something.

“Yeah, he wasn’t really social.” you managed to force out.

The sound of a game machine and hyped yelling suddenly echoed through the arcade and the three of you looked up to see the whole club huddled around a basketball game, cheering one of their friends on.

Eddie took that as his sign to remove himself from the conversation and made his way towards the game without so much as a goodbye.

“Seriously?” Steve asked when Eddie was out of earshot. “I hand you a conversation topic on a plate and you fumble it that badly?”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say!” you groaned. “Gossiping about Chris Morrison isn’t exactly the juicy conversation topic you think it is.”

“You were supposed to talk about your nerd shit, not about Chris!” he shot back.

“He thought we were making fun of him, Steve.” you said, watching as Eddie stood with his arms crossed as his club cheered over the game they were playing. Two members flanked him on each side, and even if you didn’t know that he was in charge, it was clear that he held power over these kids.

“Making fun of him? How the hell did you get that idea?” Steve was gawking at you. “I told him you were interested in his weird club!”

“Steve, I get that you were popular in high school. But you know that popular kids are dicks right? That popular kids will say things that sound nice, but are clearly making fun of whatever it is they’re talking about? That’s what he thought was happening.” You sighed.

“That’s not- I didn’t-” He was at a loss for words for a moment. “Shit. Did it really sound like that?”

“With the way he looked at me? Yeah, he thought so.”

The two of you were quiet for a moment, and you leaned against the arcade cabinet again as you contemplated what the next move would be. Maybe you’d just adopt a cat or twelve instead.

“I knew people did that.” Steve admitted after a while. “I hated it, but I went along with that shit because my shit friends told me it was fine and cool.”

“Steve, while I always appreciate that you are always learning and growing, let’s save the character development for later.” you said, cracking your knuckles. “Now, are you gonna help me talk to this guy or what?”

That snapped him out of his pity party. “You’re right, tonight isn’t about me. I’m sorry.” He looked at the club who was moving away from the hoops game and was spreading out again. You noticed that it was Lucas who they had been cheering for, Mike and Dustin were clapping him on the shoulder in congratulations. It was nice seeing the three hanging out together again.

“So you are interested in him” Steve said suddenly, looking at you with wide eyes. “That conversation was so dry I thought you weren’t actually interested.”

You glanced down at the obnoxiously colored carpet with mild embarrassment. “Steve, I’ll be frank with you-”

“Hi, Frank.”

That cut the tension and the two of you found yourself laughing- it wasn’t even funny but it was an inside joke that you two had shared over the past four months. It reminded you that despite how different you two were, he was still your friend.

“Shut the actual fuck up, Harrington.” you laughed. “I’m serious.”

“I thought you were Frank.”

“Shut up.” you gasped out. It really was not funny and yet the two of you couldn’t stop laughing. You two must have looked like idiots to anyone who was passing by you, and you were. You were both idiots.

When the laughter finally subsided, you looked over at Steve. “Steve, I think he’s attractive.”

“I do not see the appeal, but I still accept you have weird taste- don’t hit me again!” He lifted his hands as you raised your own.

You lowered your arm and looked around the arcade until your gaze fell on Eddie again.

"It's pissing me off because I swear I should know him, but I can't put my finger on it." You said as he put a quarter in a machine to play. "I mean, yeah we went to the same school but I feel like there's something else."

"I'm surprised you two didn't know each other." Steve said. "He's the freak of Hawkins and you're weird. Shouldn't you two have crossed paths before?"

"Maybe?" You shrugged. "I was oblivious in school. I only knew your name because being called 'the hair' is objectively funny."

"Ha ha. Super funny."

You kept Steve talking as you tried to figure out your next move. Him and Dustin had gone out of their way to try and introduce you to someone, and you didn't want to have those efforts wasted.

"That'll work" you said, interrupting whatever Steve was saying. You grabbed his hand and dragging him over to the air hockey table where Mike and Dustin were in the middle of an intense game.

You put two quarters down on the edge of the table as the puck whizzed by your fingers, hurdling towards Mike's goal. There was a loud and satisfying clack as Mike pushed it towards Dustin.

"I'm playing the winner." You said firmly.

Another satisfying clack echoed as Dustin pushed the puck back.

"I'll be more than happy to play you when I kick Mike's ass." Dustin said, not looking up.

"You're two points down, there's no way you're beating me!" Mike shot back with his words and puck.

"You've never beat me at air hockey before and I'm not letting you start now!"

You pulled your hands back from the edge of the table as the two friends trash talked each other. Steve moved to Dustin's side while you drifted closer to Mike, an unspoken rivalry brewing between the four of you.

Well, unspoken til you opened your mouth.

"Kick his ass, Mike." You said, watching as the puck shot back and forth between the boys.

"That's what I'm doing!" The gangly teen responded as the clack of the game echoed through the arcade.

Steve, shook his head. "I thought you said you had a plan?"

"My idea was I wanted to play air hockey." You said. "I never said it had anything to do with anything else."

Dustin looked up from the table as the puck shot through the goal on Mike's side, with a triumphant grin.

"See? I was going easy on you, Mike!" He said.

Mike groaned "You're still a point behind and I need a point to win." He said, setting the puck back out.

"I've beat you under worse conditions. Plus El isn't here to help you." Dustin shot back.

"She doesn't help!" Mike said defensively.

"Oh, and I am supposed to believe that the pink was just sent flying like that because you're so strong last time?"

"Yes! Exactly! Now shut up!" Mike said, giving Dustin a glare that clearly told him to shut up. You looked at Steve for clarification, but he was decidedly not looking at you.

Weird.

The game continued between the two boys, with you and Steve each cheering on your respective freshmen. Mike had the reach, but Dustin had the brain.

"Just give it up, Henderson- I'm gonna win and get that advantage in the next session." Whatever this rivalry was, you were now living for it. You had spent so long in a work-home-work rut, and this was way more entertaining than hearing about Steve's love life.

"Yeah? What are you gonna use it for? Another failed summoning spell?" Dustin laughed.

"It would have worked if it wasn't for Eddie's stupid rule about-"

"Stupid? Oh, I'm sure he'd love to hear more about your idea of how he should have let you cheat. HEY, EDDIE! MIKE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU."

Both you and Mike visibly tensed as Dustin yelled out for the whole arcade to hear. You gave Steve a panicked look that mirrored Mike's so perfectly that Steve had to laugh.

Backroom duty for a month.

Eddie appeared again, standing on the opposite side of the table of you and Steve, looking at his freshmen.

"Oh really? And what could Mike Wheeler want to speak to me about?" He asked.

You didn't miss the way his eyes glanced over to you and Steve for a split second. There was an air about him that you were trying to put your finger on. The best way would be to say that he was 'on'. Right now, he was in charge of his club, and he didn't seem excited that a former popular basketball player and a background character were crashing what was supposed to be his night out.

You were starting to regret this meetcute.

“Nothing!” Mike said, his voice cracking as he barely managed to block the puck from going into the goal. It was a tense game now, and it was clear that Dustin had put Mike into a disadvantage by bringing Eddie into this.

Steve made eye contact with you and gave you a shit eating grin. Oh no, no he wasn’t going to-

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Steve waved and quickly made an exit.

Two months in the backrooms.Plus bathroom duty.

It was clear why he ditched you with the way Eddie’s eyes darted as he left. There was a hint of distrust, one that you couldn’t blame him for. The only way you could possibly get an in with this guy would be if Steve wasn’t there waving his popularity flag.

Eddie glanced back over to you for just a split second before turning back to Mike.

“You sure about that, Wheeler?” He asked, an amused edge in his voice. “Because Henderson over here seems to think you have something you wanna say to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say!” The panic in Mike’s voice was evident, and Dustin just barely missed getting into the goal. “Nothing! We’re all good here- shit”

The puck, which had been flying between the two teens so fast now you could hardly keep up, had been caught on Mike’s- Clacker? Paddle? (Did that thing even have a word?). It had been caught between that and the corner, sending the puck flying upwards and flying straight towards your face. By some miracle, you managed to catch it, clapping it between your hands before it made contact with your nose. It probably wouldn’t have hurt, but you still weren’t interested in finding out.

“Holy shit.” you said with a laugh as the three guys looked at you in surprise. Mike looked embarrassed, and Dustin looked impressed.

“Nice reflexes!” he laughed.

“Damn, Mike you almost killed me! I know you’re still pissed I wouldn’t let you rent an R rated movie, but assassination is a bit overkill, don’t you think?” you asked.

“Shit, sorry.” Mike said, reaching for the puck again. You pulled it back and shook your head.

“Final round, sudden death.” you said.

“Seriously?! He’s still a point behind me!” Mike protested.

“Nu-uh. Almost killing me loses you a point.”

“I think that’s gotta be up to Eddie.” Dustin pointed out. “I mean, he’s the one in charge tonight.”

Oh, right. Oops. For a second you had actually forgotten that you were the one crashing the party here and that you didn’t have the same sway over the kids when not at work or when Steve wasn’t here.

You looked up at the man in front of you, pushing away any nerves and bottling them up to deal with later or never. What the hell did you have to prove to him anyway? Nothing. God, you were so bad at this, Steve was going to have an aneurysm trying to help you kick start a love life.

“What say you, Eddie of Hellfire?” you asked, offering him the puck as an act of goodwill.

His hand reached out, taking it as he considered you. You held your ground and met his eyes, not daring to give him any reason you had anything against him.

Eddie’s eyes moved between Mike’s panicked face and Dustin’s eager one. It was so funny how the two had zero problems bullying Steve but they made damn sure not to piss Eddie off. Well, at least too much if Dustin’s shit-eating grin was anything to go by.

A large grim broke out on Eddie’s face as he held the puck over the center of the table.

“Sudden death it is.” He said, staring directly at you as the puck dropped on the table.

Next Chapter

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @ali-r3n , @mxchese, @josephquinncore , @gagasbee, @peaches-roses-sins , @witchwolflea , @vintagehellfire , @royale1803 , @cumslutforaemond ,@prestinalove , @browneyedgirly93 , @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile

#nacht fic #wing man #eddie munson x reader

490 notes · View notes

bbitess · 1 year ago

Text

goth and metal prt 1-eurory x f!reader (use of y/n)

brothers best friend‼️ (euro is 19 in a high school type band, reader is a senior) idk how norwegian school works sorry

warnings‼️ smut, drinking and drugs, making out, ass slapping, fingering, oral f!receiving, p in v, gagging, creampie, the L-word, a meer couple sentences that have just a wee bit of degration and exibitionism

(this is based off sum random pic i saw on here and my love for my bauhaus vinyls and obsession w my set up 💪)

thank you all for being so sweet frrr, i’ve been an anonymous rory lover and all of these fics are from the archive of my notes app over the past few months :)

youtube

Y/N is jan axels sister who doesn’t listen to much metal music, she’s more into gothic music. her brother had two friends he started a band with, she only knew the guitarist, oystein, since he was jan’s friend for a while. she stayed upstairs most of the time but around 9 she got sick of all the noise and decided to go downstairs.

As she approached the basement the music grew louder. she opened the door and the music stopped, all of their eyes hit her, making her feel a little embarrassed in her sleep shorts and a sweater.

“jan, can you keep it down or like, idk go somewhere else becuase i am just trying to have some peace of mind…”

the other members looked at jan who said “yeah, yeah we are almost done.”

“thank you” Y/N said leaving and going back upstairs.

“you really let your little sister boss you around like that?” oystein asked, he was a long time family friend and he knew Y/N for a while. they were friends when they were younger but he just kind of changed. “she’s not bossing me around, i just respect her, i mean, she usually is tolerant when we practice at my place.”

oystein looked pretended to be offended “what do you mean tolerant? she should be moved by my amazing guitar skill.” the bassist snickered, “in your dreams” jan replied, making oystein blush a little and the chuckles to grow louder.

oystein sighed and set down his guitar, “im getting a drink,” he states plainly before running up the stairs. he goes to the fridge and retrieves a cold glass of beer. when he closes the fridge door he finally noticed Y/N is also in the kitchen. she is reaching up high to grab a mug from the top shelf but she couldn’t seem to reach it. the sweater she was wearing rode up on her torso, exposing her flat stomach and thin waist which contrasted her full behind, the shorts hugging them well, leaving little room for the imagination. oystein shuttered, he couldn’t tell if it was because he was seeing his childhood best friends little sister all grown up, or because he was overflowing with desire. he will admit it, he has longed for her for at least a decade but nothing ever came of it. she was out of his league and off limits because of her brother, they had hung out a lot as friends but,

(a/n: idk why but when i wrote this i made the back story from euros first person, idk just imagine culkin like narrating idek, good luck.)

“i knew jan protected her with his life. one day when jan and i were in our last year of secondary school, about to graduate, i actually told him how i was feeling. that was unusual to say the least, we didn’t put our emotions into words very often. i told him how i wanted to ask his sister to the prom and how she had caught my eye in the past. he seemed suspicious and hesitant but eventually got the idea and gave me his blessing. i went to the store to get flowers, but they were sold out, i didn’t want to spend gas going to a different store so I just went home. but after that i lost hope, i never went to get the flowers or ask Y/N to prom, i guess i got caught up in the senior work and eventually i graduated, and now i only see her when im at jan’s.”

(okay it’s over, back to third person <3)

he pulled his eyes away and searched for a bottle opener but couldn’t seem to find one anywhere. he held the bottle up to Y/N and she nodded, she swiftly grabbed a spoon. oystein had his hand by the cap and had the bottle set on the table so she swiftly held his hand in place with one hand and with the other, used the spoon to open the bottle. oystein flinched and shook his hand, Y/N laughed, “it didn’t hurt that bad! and look your bottle is open,” oystein just smiled a little, and Y/N almost melted, his smile was beautiful but he never wore it. “you should smile more.” she she stated facing him. oysteins smile dropped almost immediately but the blush stayed on his cheeks and he reddened as Y/N inched closer to his face.

“you look nice when you smile,” she says, beaming and brushing a stand of his hair behind his ear smoothly. she walked away, giving oystein a second to breathe and hide the massive boner inside his pants. Y/N had abandoned the mug and grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge and opened it. “aren’t you too young to drink, Y/N?” oystein asked, he was 19 but not that new to alcohol. “no” she replied, “well, yes and no…” she said taking a hearty sip. “how old are you these days?” oystein asked slyly, Y/N replied with her honest age, “i’m graduating in a couple months.” “wow, you are mature beyond your years…” oystein states, smiling. “maybe you are just behind,” Y/N laughs and then drinks more. they are both about halfway done but the weather was kind of nice out. it was a summer dusk so Y/N and oystein went outside to finish beers and while they were out there, oystein couldn’t help but retrieve a rolled blunt from his pocket.

Y/N was a little nervous because they think smoking weed with someone is very vulnerable but they agreed to oystein and they smoked the joint. “i’ve always wanted to do this with you…” oystein admits, “do what?” she laughs, “idk, smoking together, drinking, talking, anything… i’ve always wanted to know you better.” she looks down, “i wanted to know you to, but you always seemed to push me away when i got to close, you never opened up to me after middle school you know…” oystein feels devastated a little hurt hearing this, he keeps smoking. “i’m so sorry if i made you feel unappreciated, Y/N. i really liked you, like really really liked you,” he chuckles. “i promise,” she smiles, still looking down, “really?” she asks. he goes on, “really! you know i was going to ask you to my prom last year, gosh i remember like it was yesterday. i asked your brother for his permission, it was the scariest shit i’ve ever done. and i was going to ask you but the store was sold out of flowers and i guess i just psyched myself out…” he admits, kind of laughing at the story.

Y/N is surprised since he never talks about his feelings this deeply. “wow, i never knew. why did you get psyched out?”

“i don’t know, you were almost two years younger than me but i was a nobody at that school. you were pretty and had good friends and were nice to everyone. i figured another lucky guy had already asked you, i wouldn’t want it make it weird.”

“wow, oystein i wish you told me, i would have gone with you.” Y/N said, he was kind of in disbelief at that.

Y/N smokes the blunt and smiles, content with oysteins confession, “i forgive you, cheers…” she says and holds up the bottle, “cheers to what?” oystein questions. “cheers to confession…” she laughs and they clink the bottles. “i confess that i really liked you too, well before you slammed the door on your emotions… but i know the oystein i knew is still in there.” Y/N says, seriously, almost in a stern tone. oystein was frozen for a moments time but in that moment he felt like he had gained the wisdom of centuries.

oystein finished the blunt and tossed it, and that quickly he grabbed her jaw and pressed his lips to hers for their long awaited kiss. their lips locked together, so perfectly they thought they would get stuck and never pull away. oystein even ran his tounge over her lips, meeting her in the middle when she got brave enough to try a french kiss. she was a little hesitant kissing someone she had known for so long, it almost felt wrong, but also so so right. her hands tangled in his wild hair and he held the back of her neck, his other hand subconsciously creeping up Y/N’s soft thighs.

after another moment which seemed like centuries, they pulled away catching their breath. they began to arrange their clothes and hair back to normal. “oystein?” Y/N asks, “yes?” “does this mean… that you still you know, like me?” oystein blushes “what makes you think that??” he states quickly. “well, you just kissed me like your in love, and… it’s just- also, i could see your boner the whole time.” Y/N admits, oystein was flustered but they laughed it off, his icy eyes locked on hers and he promised-not said, promised, “the second I laid eyes on you I was yours, yes, Y/N, I do like you.” she smiled and put herself in his arms, “good, i like guys who like me…” and then they both started laughing in each others arms like they used to.

“i have to get back,” oystein says getting up and holding the door back into the house open for Y/N but they eventually speak, “have fun with your death metal,” Y/N says, “its black metal, norwegian black metal…” oystein says smiling, “either way, my bauhaus vinyl is easier on the ears.” she smiles. “well maybe i’ll come up to your chamber and we can listen to it together, how does that sound?” he asks, she responds quickly, “grood… i meant to say great and good, i’m sorry i-.” he had already walked away thinking about how was he going to get rid of this raging boner.

later in the night, the guys had packed up their things, oystein was the last to leave, “hey do you want to stick around and watch a movie or something?” jan asked oystein, “umm, no” he remembered he promised he would go to his sisters room, “sorry man i’m just tired, see you.” and oystein quickly left with his guitar case and pretended to be going out the door but in reality he went to the next floor and knocked on Y/N’s door.

she had been waiting patiently for oystein to come upstairs and when he knocked she started the bauhaus vinyl, hoping he would be impressed with her music taste.

when Y/N opened the door oysteins jaw dropped, she had changed from her pajamas and into a lacey black top and thong that was covered by a sheer robe, tied around her small waist. he couldn’t believe it, she looked so different, so beautiful and enticing, he didn’t know what to say.

“does jan know you are here?” Y/N questioned, oystein shook his head, still in disbelief, “um- can i come in?”

she let him in and he sat on the end of her bed which also was the best place to listen to the vinyl. “do you like it?” Y/N asks. “yes” oystein says smiling, he puts his hands on her waist and begins to inch upwards towards the lacey bra, his hands still over the robe. “i think it’s really sexy…” oystein says continuing, “no,” Y/N laughs taking his hands in her own and interlocking them. “i meant the vinyl, oystein.”

oystein blushed from embarrassment and arousal, “oh- yes that’s really good too.” he nods. she laughs.

she leans into him and their lips meet, his hands returning to her body as the kiss intensified. she reached under his shirt, he felt electrified when she touched his skin and peeled his shirt over his head, quickly reattaching their lips.

the gothic music blasted through the speakers, him still sitting on the bed, she backed away and he bathed in all her glory. she gave him a small tease, untieing the robe and slowly peeling it off her body, revealing her smooth pale skin that shined in the moonlight flowing through the window. the black lingerie contrasted her complexion and he had a sudden urge to strip it off her.

oystein stood from the bed quickly, pulling her in for another kiss, rubbing his large ringed fingers up and down her torso, he reached behind her back and unclipped the bra, letting out a sigh. he pulled it off her, staring for a second at her chest before grabbing her in his hands and fondling her breasts in his hands. “you are so beautiful, god you have no idea what this does to me.”

Y/N moaned at his words which only encouraged him, he latched to her neck and slurped at it like a vampire, letting his teeth graze her soft skin before sucking a hickey onto her throat. “sorry babe, your brother might get mad about that…”

she sighed, “forget about him.” she said, running her hands into his hair. he moved his lips down her body to her chest and began to suckle and kiss her breasts, Y/N continued moaning as she held his face to her, he bit down a little on her nipple causing her to flinch a little and pull oystein by the hair, but he just let out a low moan and the vibrations ran from his teeth to her bud, making her pussy wetter every second. she had to hold on to the desk so she wouldn’t collapse right there.

he got down to his knees, leaving a trail of kisses down her torso. his ringed fingers pulled down her thong effortlessly. he stared at her, but then slid his finger through the folds and penetrated her hole. Y/N let out a lewd noise but oystein didn’t stop, he kept fingering her, making her moan harder and her legs feel like jelly. oystein placed a hard smack on her asscheek and then brought his lips to the clit, kissing and then sucking on it. she felt close already. “oystein!! i’m gonna- please i’m going to cum”

oystein was suprised that she was going to cum this fast but her pussy leaked all over his hand and he lapped the juices up with his tounge. he stood up and pulled her into a kiss, her cum mingling between their lips, and right then, she came on his fingers- hard, his hand was still on her ass and it held her up since her knees had completely buckled under her.

oystein took down his pants and boxers swiftly, Y/N was suprised at his length, “oystein, that won’t fit!” “i’ll be careful baby” he replies. while he took his pants off Y/N flipped the vinyl which is very important. then he was ready. he took her by the waist and pressed her back to his chest, his hard member pressed between her legs, precum was oozing from the tip of his cock. oystein sat back in the bed, right between the speakers and set Y/N on top of him, spreading her legs. “are you ready?” oystein asks gruffly in her ear, nibbling at the lobe. she nodded and he groaned and his cock twitched between her legs so she wasted no time and grabbed it. she pumped it a few times, lubing it with pre cum and her pussy juices. then she pushed him into her, his cock filled her to the brim. “oh my god,” she muttered, he continued pushing in, inch by inch. she didn’t know if she could take the feeling at first. oystein wrapped his arm around Y/N and grabbed her tit roughly, he began moving her up and down his length. “you are doing so good.” oystein praised as he began to speed up, pounding into her messy cunt. she began to moan louder, over come by the feeling. “let me hear you,” oystein says, “they can’t hear you over the music, unless you want them to you little slut.” he laughs, “yeah, i bet you would like that, if your brother came up here and walked in on his best friend pounding his innocent little virgin sister.” Y/N couldn’t respond more than pornographic moans. “i’m-im” she utters, “oystein, cum-“ she speaks and has and orgasm on oysteins cock. he reaches his other hand around her and puts his fingers deep in her throat, pulling her down on him roughly. she was gagged and fucked into oblivion, his hand squeezing her chest. her moans echoing louding through the room with bauhaus music.

oystein finished inside her, he grunted and spurted cum though her. she was oozing and when he pulled out she sighed roughly and let cum drip and bubble from her hole. oystein left a harsh slap on her ass, almost squeezing it like he was milking her pussy. the whole time serenading her with compliments and love that he had for her. “you did so good, baby, god if i knew that pussy was so good i would have gotten it in grade school.” kissing her neck.

then he left, getting a washcloth from her bathroom to clean them. he got dressed and she pulled on the robe, “are you leaving?” Y/N asks, “i’m sorry- i thought that’s what you wanted, i mean, i would have to leave early tomorrow.” oystein responds. “that’s okay,” Y/N says, “do you want to spend the night?”

oystein couldn’t believe it, it’s not like he had never slept over in the house before, he had hundreds of times, but never in your bed. he nodded and got into the bed. they kissed a couple times before he pushed her hair back and stated, “i love you,” it seemed early but they really did love eachother, and they had for years. she blushed and tried to cover her smile with her hand. “i love you, too, oystein, i never stopped once.” she states, cuddling up into oysteins chest and falling asleep.

part 2 here

#rory culkin #rory culkin fanfic #eurory #euronymous #rory culkin smut #euronymous smut #lords of chaos #bauhaus #Youtube

164 notes · View notes

staugustinebutnotreligious · 3 months ago

Text

Finished that band au wip! There’s a lot of lore with this au…. Not gonna make a fic for it but I’m gonna slowly tell what @jetjaw and I have been planning…

For now here’s the basics:

They form the band in high school, but don’t really really take off till their young adults (though they have local fans in school)

Tadashi is the frontman on guitar and lead vocals, as well as the main lyricist for the band. He has always dreamed of being in a band, though he doesn’t have the raw natural talent some of the others do. He’s the one who brings everyone together at school. Him and Tsuki are still childhood friends, he’s school buddies with Yachi, he meets Kageyama in music class, and he rooms with Hinata in their school’s dorms.

Tsuki only picks up the guitar to have something in common with the only friend he tolerates, but ends up being very good at it. He’s the lead guitar, and he secretly loves it, though he never quite shakes the aloof persona. They know he loves them though, or he never would have let them talk him into that tongue piercing…

Yachi was taught piano as a kid, and it quickly became another outlet for her mother’s overly high expectations. She secretly gets into alternative music, synth, and fun keyboards to have a small sense of rebellion. As well as being the keyboard player, she becomes the producer, brand manager, and all around mom of the band. Everyone at their stuffy ass school thinks she’s suuuuuper emo for her hair and eyeliner. (None of them have ever seen an actual emo)

Kageyama is a youth symphony player, taught the bass by his grandfather. When his grandfather dies, he picks up the electric bass to breathe new life into the grief-tainted hobby. He composes a lot of their music, and is generally ridiculously skilled. Of course he dabbles in piano like the dramatic genius he is.

Hinata is the drummer, and undeniable heart of the group. When they meet at school, he’s the only one familiar with the local music scene, and opens up his rich-ass sheltered-ass friends to a freer creative approach. Though he didn’t play any instruments at all at first, Kageyama assumed he was a drummer from how many overly complex rhythms he’d tap on his desk in their shared class, and quickly resolved to get Hinata properly playing. Though he starts out a bit of the weak link, his passion and commanding presence completely transform their sound.

Cue the next several years of melodrama, exaggerated teenage culture, and pining wayyyy too far into their twenties.

46 notes · View notes

monzamash · 2 years ago

Text

it's impossible to win — daniel ricciardo

daniel ricciardo x you (femreader) | 2.5k summary – when you buy concert tickets with your ex but break up a couple of months before the gig, do you go or cut your losses? rating �� mature (sexual references, coarse language) a/n – this was inspired by a lovely ask i received during my 2k celebration and based around the band alexisonfire x masterlist

just sent you the AOF tickets.

i told you to keep yours. you love them as much as i do. read

The glow of your phone was too bright, too harsh and so was the reality you didn’t want to face any time soon. You couldn’t keep them. How could you when the reputation of being the ‘notorious ex girlfriend of Daniel Ricciardo’ – man of the people, loved by millions shadowed you everywhere you went?

He was loved more than most and certainly more than you.

She was never good enough anyway; a parasite, they said when the news broke on the petty gossip pages, exposing that you and Daniel were no longer together, itemising every little detail of your downfall for the world to see. Those years of memories, years of loving privately disappeared and in its place were painful ones to heal. They were the best years of your life, or so you thought – blissfully unaware of the distance slowly growing between you and the man you loved more than most – but it wasn’t enough.

You weren't enough to fight for and especially not enough to love more than driving around a racetrack eight months out of the year. He was never there, out of sight and out of mind, leaving you battling for his attention. You weren’t cut out for it, simply put by him while on the other side of the world. It started as a late night phone call to ease the ache in your chest and to keep him close but he couldn’t have been further away. Physically and emotionally. Drifting.

“Babe, this is what you signed up for.”

“No, it’s what I tolerate – it’s what I sacrifice to love you.”

You broke down, knowing this was the end of your relationship and the only thing you could genuinely put your name to. You had lost yourself completely to his life, no longer something you could call your own. Abandoned dreams and forsaken friendships all so you could be there for him; drawn in to his world, naively consumed by his safety and the promise of a life lived together, not divided by oceans – lost to the fishes.

That was until you re-emerged from the lavish hotels and the private planes, sans Daniel – sans your soulmate. The day you ended that phone call, you knew he would be the hardest one to let go of; eternally the one that got away and the one relationship you would have to tell future boyfriends about. And they would probably gasp and ask, not the formula one driver? and you would have to nod and quash their insecurities because everyone loved Daniel.

But nobody loved him more than you do – did. Not even close.

“He said you should use the ticket and honestly, I don’t even think he’ll show up. He hasn’t come to anything we’ve organised since you two broke up – he’s not the kid we knew back in high school anymore… That’s why you dumped his arse, right?”

Right, but you couldn’t say that.

“I didn’t dump him. I just…” Just told him that he’s wasted the best years of my life chasing him around the world.

“… Said that if he couldn’t be there when I needed him or spent more than two seconds a year with me then I couldn’t do it anymore. And that’s it.” Well, not exactly.

“Sounds like a dumping to me and rightfully so. Look, I love Danny but he’s hard to be friends with, let alone pretending to be in domestic bliss with…”

Yes, but you respected Daniel too much to admit that. Hannah was his friend too, all of them were. You were kids all grown up, now adults wading their way through the treacherous seas of the real world, pretending like they had it all figured out. Ungracefully and riddled with anxiety but finally immune to bullshit and aware of what to expect out of an adult relationship.

The standards were higher now than when you were young and in love. Daniel was your childhood best friend, after all. Or more accurately, the boy you met on the first day of high school, all crooked teeth and bundles of frizzy brown curls. You were acne-ridden and shy, the weirdo girl, they called you until you became friends with Danny. He knew everyone and was loved by everyone – that was the one trait that had followed him through life.

He was the class clown and a cute distraction from the torture of high school but you weren’t the only one who thought so. Lunchtime quickly became your favourite part of every day because you got to sit beside him and eat your Vegemite sandwich, knowing all the other girls in your year seethed seeing you with him. 'That weird mole and Riccardo being friends doesn’t make sense' they’d whisper thinking you couldn’t hear them. But you could and they were right about one thing – you were only friends.

The slightest scent of a spring breeze reminded you of the hours you spent sat under the shady gum trees, watching him playing footy with the other boys while you fiddled with your walk-man and scratched the discs beyond repair as you changed them out, battling with the Sony aux chord that was hanging on for dear life by a slither of duct tape. You were fifteen when Daniel handed you a burnt CD with a hand-drawn skull in the shape of a heart and the letters AOF written in bold black sharpie, smudged from his impatience.

“What’s this?” You asked with squinted eyes, looking up at him and the blistering sun.

“The best fucking album you’ll ever hear.”

He told you years later that he was so proud of himself, thrilled that he was showing you new music. His competitive streak wasn’t exclusive to the karting track – no, it snuck its way into everything he did, specifically when it came to album recommendations and especially with you.

“It’s called Watch Out by Alexisonfire… you know, that punk band I said you would love. Give it a try. I promise it’s better than that fuckin’ Offspring album you won’t stop listenin’ to.”

“Well even if I do like it, I wont tell you now dickhead.”

But he was right. So infuriatingly right. You loved it, maybe because you loved him. He was your best friend, your closest confidante, your twin flame – all cheesy grin and beautiful brown eyes. Lips so full that whenever he spoke, you couldn’t look away. Dangerously entranced by your best friend. A label that haunted you every time it slipped from his tongue and one you desperately wanted to rip off like a band-aid.

You thought those feelings would be the kind of ones you'd painfully bury and take to your grave, heartbreakingly unrequited – until you found a hand-written note crumpled up at the bottom of the ripped CD sleeve. The blotchy blue pen and creases in the lined paper made it hard for you to read his distinctive, yet messy boyish cursive.

song 4 – side walk when she walks (made me think of you)

The sound of frantic clicking bounced off your lilac coloured walls as you skipped to track four; a spinning screech filled the anticipated silence before the sound of a melodic guitar filtered through the muffled headset.

Dressed to kill, you look so right I am drunk with lust tonight Your wounds are opening wide And they might be just my size

Warmth rushed to your chest, your neck and up to your cheeks when you realised what it all meant. And it wasn’t the last time Daniel made your body feel like it was on fire, sitting on his messy bedroom floor and kissing until you couldn’t breathe, the soft sounds of your new favourite band playing on his stereo – heart beating so fast you could’ve died, happily in his arms.

But you weren’t horny teenagers anymore and that memory was blurrier now than it had ever been. It had been muddied with all the sad ones, the fights and the tears – the irreversible emotional damage that you had done to each other. You weren’t a saint, god knows and you took full responsibility for your part and so did Daniel. But that was where it ended – in a seemingly amicable split.

No love lost, only misplaced for a while.

It felt like all eyes were watching you as you walked into the small club, ears already tingling with the reverberation bouncing off the blackened walls – if only they could talk. Musky bodies and the hint of cigarettes filled the air while your combat boots stuck to the floor with every step you took into the lion’s den, making your path to closure hard fought. Maybe it was a sign to turn back; anything could’ve convinced you to swing by the exit on your left until you saw him.

He was dressed head to toe in black with a cap securely pulled over his eyes, hiding away from the curious ones. In any other crowd it would’ve been a piss-poor disguise, so obviously him but he blended in with the dark walls and the growing crowd, all wearing the unofficial uniform of an elder emo – baggy sweater, ripped skinny jeans and torn up Vans. And you were no different.

"You made it!!", a friend greeted, pulling you into a rib-crushing hug while you took in the circling faces. There were a few you never thought you would see again, people who were only your friend by proxy and ones he’d picked up along the way. And it was clear by the way everyone greeted you that he hadn’t dragged your name through the mud, maybe he kept the details of the break up quiet like you.

But the reality for Daniel was that he was too broken to even process what had happened. He came home to an empty apartment after a double-header with no way to contact you, to make things right. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the couple of months you’d been apart was enough either. And he was right. The sharp pain in his chest and the way his hands shook when he saw you confirmed it. He was fucked.

“Fuck,” Daniel groaned and turned to his mate, “What am I doing here, man…”

All he could do was let out a soft laugh and pat his friend on the shoulder, “You’re an idiot.”

Daniel readjusted his cap and let out a strangled, “I know.”

You promised your friend that you’d be fine, like water off a ducks back. All the side glances and murmurs meant nothing to you anymore, the insecurity you had now was nothing compared to when you were actually dating Daniel. Consumed in his bubble, unable to escape the crushing scrutiny. Another wag bites the dust, they said, gone with no explanation other than your obvious absence in the paddock.

It didn’t matter anymore; nothing could hurt more than losing him.

But you still felt it, bubbling away in the pit of your stomach. Years and years of loving someone doesn’t disappear over night, especially when you thought it would last forever. Nostalgia won the battle against the wound in your chest for a moment, still festering without treatment – knowing the only person who could heal it was miles away emotionally but was now in your line of vision. Seeing him in the flesh hurt more than you’d anticipated, more than you could’ve ever imagined. You still loved him, after everything.

The bubbles of excitement quickly dissipated and twisted into knots when you thought about what you had lost – a wave of anxiety washed over, churning away at any ounce of courage you’d mustered to even turn up to this stupid fucking show. You were cursing yourself, cursing your friend who had convinced you that he probably wouldn’t even turn up and that the odds were in your favour. She was so, so wrong.

“Ignore him and come dance.”

She was in damage control, dragging you away from the small gathering of friends and Daniel, who couldn’t tear his eyes away. His warm stare burned holes through your leather jacket as he watched you walk off into the crowd – and away from him again. It was becoming a habit of yours that he loathed. The house lights felt like a spotlight on your bruised ego but you pushed through the warm bodies, putting as much distance as you could between you and your past. The support band sounded great, mostly because it drowned out the soul-crushing thoughts swirling in your mind and brought you some much needed reprieve from your pity party.

You didn’t feel like yourself at all – you were the shell of the woman you used to be and you certainly weren’t the woman you wanted to show up as either. Strong, independent, single and thriving – you were none of those things, entirely the opposite in every way, so you had to dig deep and fake it. And you were a great actor but not tonight.

Not when you felt a gentle poke to your bicep. The lights rotating and strobing above made it impossible to see who was standing beside you, hand offering an icy bottle of Corona with a wedge of lime. It nearly slipped from your shaky fingers when you grasped it, whispering a soft thank you as the house lights went down and the swell of the surging crowd rumbled under foot.

“I wanted to have a chat but…” Daniel pointed to the stage, yelling over the drummer that had taken his rightful place behind his kit.

“Maybe later?” And you nodded yes, sending him a reassuring smile as the band began to play.

You could be diplomatic and hear him out – you owed yourself that at least and deserved closure from all the unanswered questions.

Daniel kept his distance, knowing he was in the wrong and that letting you go was the biggest mistake of his life. And it wasn’t long until his heart stalled in his chest when he heard that painfully recognisable guitar riff filter through the thick air, the one he couldn’t listen to without thinking of you and he could see the way your eyes glazed with tears when you heard it; the opening chords to the song he had dedicated to you all those years ago on that stupid burnt cd.

Maybe you missed him too.

“This ones called side walk when she walks.”

You reached down, without even looking and grasped his hand that was hanging loosely between your stiff bodies. Daniel interlocked his shaking fingers with yours and squeezed them as your head dropped to his shoulder, resting there while you both swayed to the music. You felt safe for the first time in months, comforted by his presence.

Of course you missed him. He was your person.

And this was your band; the band you shared together for over half your lives, their songs played while you fell in love with one another. They were the band you lost your virginity to, humming softly in the background and wishing that feeling would last forever. You remembered blasting ‘to a friend’ in the car on the way to your graduation and Daniel nearly getting pulled over by the cops, laughing until your sides hurt. And they were the band you would always save for your road trips along the coast, both there in Los Angeles and back home.

These were the songs that soundtracked your life with Daniel.

They were your band – and they’d brought you back together.

a//n – this was wildly self indulgent so if you hated it, let me know lol but also lmk if you liked it because i loved writing it x masterlist | askbox

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #f1 writing #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #monzamashmasterlist #monzamash

710 notes · View notes