#its like.. a mid-stage of him?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sundaynightlive · 1 year ago

Text

Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

��Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

“Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #hellfire club #blorbos #soft #we all deserve someone who makes us soft #don’t we?#gay #lgbtq #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb

2K notes · View notes

lothwenelanor · 2 months ago

Text

It's All Very Complicated - James Sunderland x Reader

Hello everyone! A little late, but congratulations to everyone on the remake of Silent Hill 2! Sorry for the long absence. I had absolutely no ideas to write anything, and no desire either - a lot of stress this month.

P.S. I didn’t find a similar gif, and I thought it would be nice to make one myself *** You stumbled into a dingy strip club, your nerves on edge from the ongoing horrors plaguing the city. James followed at your heels, his face contorted with fatigue and despair.

You looked around the empty and gloomy room and approached the stage, attracted by the shine of the metal pillars.

Rising onto the platform, you ran your hand along the cool surface of the pole, feeling its strength.

Your hands reached out, grabbing the lone pole in the center of the empty space.

But as you began to run your fingers over the cold metal, a shiver of anxiety ran through you. The club was eerily empty, except for James, who sat impassively at a table near the bar. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw you dancing alone.

You looked at him, a hint of a smile playing on your lips despite the atmosphere. James quickly looked away, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and something else you couldn’t decipher.

Encouraged by his reaction, you picked up the pace, your movements becoming more sensual and provocative.

You continued to dance, swaying your hips to the rhythm as you twirled around the pole. James watched, fascinated, his eyes following your every move. "What? Never been to such places?"

You stopped mid-spin, leaning against the pole and raising an eyebrow at him. James cleared his throat, looking worried. "Well, not quite like that..." he admitted, and his voice died down.

You chuckled, amused by his shyness. "Oh, come on, James. Don't be so humble"

You teased him, returning to movement. You danced with renewed energy, releasing all your pent-up emotions into the performance.

Your movements became more and more flirtatious. You ran your hands over your curves, putting on a show just for him. He watched, fascinated, but as you approached, a hint of guilt flashed across his face.

James turned away abruptly, unable to meet your gaze. You stopped, stunned by his sudden departure.

"Hey, what happened?" You asked quietly, concern evident in your voice as you walked away from the pole and jumped onto the floor, approaching him. "Did I do something to upset you?"

James sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "No, it's not you. It's just... Mary. I feel like I'm somehow betraying her by enjoying myself while she..."

His words trailed off, choked with emotion. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, offering comfort. "I understand. It's okay to remember her fondly, even to find moments of joy again. This doesn't mean you forgot or replaced it."

James nodded slowly, his eyes still downcast. "I know this, but it is difficult to reconcile. Especially here, in a place like... this."

You mulled over his words, searching for the right answer. "Maybe we are not talking about replacing memories, but about creating new ones? Ones that honor Mary's spirit rather than diminish her legacy."

James looked at you carefully. "Do you really think so?"

You smiled encouragingly at James, nodding. "Yes, definitely. What matters is how you choose to move forward, how you carry her memory with you."

As you said those words, James suddenly reached out, hugging you tightly. Startled but touched by the gesture, you responded in kind, holding him close to you.

Without warning, he pulled you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist. You gasped quietly, unsure of what to do. James buried his face in your chest, nuzzling your neckline as if seeking comfort.

You froze. James pressed himself against you, his breath hot against your skin, lost in his own turbulent emotions.

P.S. I'm crazy about this Maria, she's beautiful

#drabble #silent hill #james sunderland #x reader #james sunderland x reader

152 notes · View notes

h5eavenly · 5 months ago

Text

Fallen Star┃Jake Sim

fourteen - Why didn't you take me? warning: detailed description of anxiety, mentions of death, angst, and smut.

Masterlist ✶ prev ✶ next

(a/n: special thanks to @stargirl-gigi for giving me strength when i lacked it. i know you're not the biggest fan of enhypen but i still hope you'll like this cus if it weren't for you my brain wouldn't have been able to form this many words <3)

Jake learns that the world is unjust early on in his life. Even supposing for the preponderance of his few first moons he’s adjudged lucky not to be on the receiving end. Nevertheless, he finds himself appertained to an all-familiar watching crowd. With impertinent eyes and forged pity, they’ll watch as lives fall apart in front of them. They’ll never help but prate about how bad they feel.

Jake wasn’t on the receiving end for a long time, but he recalls being a perpetrator.

He is seven years old. It was a warm summer afternoon; he was running around with fellow students in the classroom. Despite being apprised a little more over four times to not do that. Jake was born obdurate; it wasn’t something that came with time. Conceivably it might have grown, became something that is unwillingly part of his skin. Nonetheless it was always there, and it is still the reason his hip ends up colliding with the teacher’s table, knocking over her vase of flowers and he watches with wide eyes as it tumbles to the ground and shatters into diminutive bits.

When his favorite teacher with disenchantment imprinted on her features asked who did it. His heart trembled with the trepidation of getting reprimand and so he ends up blaming someone else. throwing the guilt of his wrongdoings upon someone else’s shoulders to carry. He watches as his superiority sides with his luck. Being the most liked kid in his class aids his lie and every student lies with him, for him.

Jake ruminates on the situation a lot more than he would like. It comes to him on random days of his life, and it comes to him when his supply of luck runs out. The day he ends up on the receiving margin of life. He’s on his knees. Agony sneaks its way onto every atom of his being and before he could even breathe – it draped itself over him.

More often than not Jake feels like he had lived four lives, yet he bides not even past his mid-twenties. His first ends with him starry eyed, floating in a pipe dream. That despite his insidious mind he could still make it work in Paranoia. It only lasts for fleeting moments before it all crumbles. Anxiety is a searing ache, it’s in perpetuity coursing through his veins. No matter how hard Jake locks the door, with indomitable force it breaks it down, it travels through the window until he’s tied together by threads of unpreventable dread.

His second life passes by in a colorful daze, an emptiness in his chest that’s scarcely filled with pills on his tongue and poison in his blood. It’s all blurry fragments of him on stage, staying in the studio until every bone in his body ached and him trying to find meaning in pages of his lyrics.

With his third life he’s watching his mother’s dead body being lowered into her grave. His heart is now nothing, but a gaping scar and it pulsates with agonizing affliction every time he breathes. The flashes of cameras feel like knives being stabbed repeatedly into his body. In a fugitive breath he recalls that day when he was seven years old, and he ponders on if this was his punishment.

Why didn’t you take me?

In another world, one where life is impartial, his mother lives and Jake dies, with no blood on his hands.

By his fourth try he no longer feels human. Rather a floating revenant watching down upon the creature who’s etched with misery and a colossal amount of anxiety. He’s constantly overtaken by calamitous emotions. There’s no time for his wounds to mend when he’s so busy trying to control his thoughts, to keep them at bay. Placate them with rehearsed fortitude just so he could have room to exhale. However, his questions remain. They plague his mind; it beleaguers him and then at night it all interposes into questions he can’t seem to find a remedy to.

Why didn’t you take me?

What’s the point of anything?

“Jake?” He hears you calling him, disquiet lacing your voice. He blinks, his eyes that have been zeroed in on a random spot in the mirror finally move, landing on yours instead.

“Yes?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, do you mind repeating that once again?” he sighs, rubbing his temples warily. Missing the way, yours linger on his face with worry etched on them.

“Okay.” He’s met with a few moments of silence as you scroll up through your ipad “The Vogue team reached out again and they’re hoping to redo the interview you never got to finish a while ago,” your eyes flick to his for mere seconds, ephemeral although more than enough to skim across his features, perusing his scrunched brows “do you want that?”

“If they’re actually gonna show up on time then sure.”

“Okay.”

“Make sure to tell them that.”

“You want me to tell Vogue they better show up on time?”

“Yes bunny,” despite his raised brow and the look in his eyes that straight up calls you stupid. You grow somewhat relieved that bits of his usual self are back on the surface.

A pout draws on your lips as you type away on the screen of your ipad and his eyes fleet to them a tad too long to be deemed appropriate. He is apt to be swayed by deviant desires, yours seem to feed his ardour.

“Can I get you anything?” You speak suddenly and it takes him back to his reality, gaze shifting away and you, too busy to notice.

“An energy drink would be nice.”

“What kind?”

“Whatever is available.” With a nod sent in his direction you leave with a brush of your hand on his shoulder blade. It’s delicately discreet. In the same way your lashes flutter whenever he looks at you and the warmth of your palm doesn’t stay long but it has him trifling.

Not inordinately scalding but rather a soothing touch that eases the thorns picking at his heart.

With a sigh he leans back in his seat and checks his phone. The tightness pulling at his ribs comes back, intensifies by his messages to Soojin being left unanswered. And it all makes itself discernible once he starts bouncing his leg on the floor. His demons swarm by his feet and inchmeal, they creep upwards, almost as if they’re melting onto his flesh.

“Is Soojin still coming?” he asks Jay – who is sitting on the couch not too far away - with concealed fret. The latter looks up from his stack of papers, glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose.

“As far as I know yes. Why?”

“She’s not answering my texts, so I was wondering.” regardless of his inefficacious attempts to remain composed Jay has spent what feels like a lifetime by his side, every moment was more than enough for him to commit every mannerism of Jake into his memory. Seeing through his façade is a practice he mastered.

“I’m sure she’s okay man. She probably has it on do not disturb or something.”

“Yeah,” Jake replies absentminded. A fraught silence settles and despite Jay’s words that portray themselves as a touch of gentleness on his being. His striving to calm down the storms that are threatening to take over him.

It starts off palliate with slight tugging at his chest, puncture just to be annoying. The logical wheels in his mind turn, giving meaning to Jay’s words to him and finding solace in between the letters. He busies himself with turning all of Sunoo’s makeup products with the label upfront. It earns him a slap on his hand and a glare.

“Can you fuck off Jake? I have other clients to work on.” Sunoo spits and he only huffs in response, sinking in his seat and checking his phone once again.

No Notifications. He never hated anything more than those two words. The tugging grows relentless and before he gets to think he’s already picking at the skin around his nails.

Jake’s anxiety is too fickle of a creature to ever just leave him in seclusion for far too long.

It already seeped into him and clung itself on his bones. It is more than just a part of him but rather who he is. Like A winding coil that finally snaps. his head is bombarded with frightful images and every bad thing that could have happened to Soojin flashes in a moment. His heart skips three beats at once and panic travels through his veins.

The logical wheels come to a halt so abruptly.

What if something really bad happened to her? What if she’s hurt? What if she got into an accident on her way here to see him? It’s his fault, isn’t it?

“Are you okay Jake?” His head swivels towards Jay who somehow has made it to his side without making much noise or getting his attention.

“Yeah um- “he clears his throat “do you think you could call Soojin? See where she is?” The worry that starts filling Jay’s eyes is what he was hoping to avoid seeing. He knows it’s nowhere close to pity, knows no matter how much blood his heart spills, Jay will never look at him with ruth.

And yet Jake has grown an immense hatred for every possible way that people look at him, somewhere between sleepless nights, how vacant his chest remains and his constant reminder to breathe- he yearns for normality and if it’s something he isn’t meant for, his unyielding covet to be invisible overtakes his will to live.

“Of course.” Jay like always doesn’t question him, a tender smile settles on his face “I’m sure she’s okay, alright?” he assures, and Jake could only nod mutely in response, his throat is tightening and an all too familiar knot is forming.

With Jay walking away from to make a call, you’re back. His promised drink between your hands.

“Here.” You place it in front of him and when Jake doesn’t even look at it, his peculiar silence is enough for you to take notice of the shift in the air. Your words hanging heavy, and Jake’s agitation is avidly pellucid, as crystal as running water.

Your eyes shift when Jay walks back to you two, with downcast eyes.

“She’s not picking up. Should I call her manager?”

“I guess?” Although Jake’s voice is unmodulated edged with an imperturbable expression, your eyes remain on the way he keeps picking at his skin. With a mute nod Jay leaves you two alone once again

He glances at you when your fingers wrap around his wrist to halt his movement, with imbedded delicacy. Even your touch plea rather than order and if Jake’s mind wasn’t already clouded with webs of consternation. He would notice it.

“Is this about Soojin?” You purse your lips right after the question slips from your mouth, as if you didn’t mean to ask and really if Jake wasn’t so busy worrying about the wellbeing of his friend right now, he’d be snorting at you.

Alternatively, his state remains stoic.

“Yeah.”

“You seem to care about her a lot.”

“Because she’s my friend?” He side-eyes you, sharp enough to again call out the lack of your intelligence with a glance and it renders you mute. Walking away from him just in time for him to roll his eyes, checking his phone for the third time.

Your absence doesn’t last long, in fact it doesn’t last long enough for him to click his phone shut before you’re shoving a stack of papers in his face with a minacious lustre in the flickers of color in your eyes.

“Can you help me count these folded pages?” you smile at him, imbued with inimitable docile that only seem to find home in you, and in between his sheets.

He prances between you and the papers in almost suspicion yet stays quiet and despite the way he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you he still takes them from you, only because it is welcome enough of a hindrance to combat against his fatalistic mind.

“Sure.”

As a tranquil silence descends upon the two of you. It takes mere moments for comprehension to swim its way to his head, amidst the crashing waves of overbearing disquietude, he finds your kindness. Like a shore he finally gets to rest on after swimming for so long, he’s choking on the water clogging his throat pipe, yet you manage to exist as a stroke of color amongst his grays.

He remembers it so well. Seeing you this morning counting these same papers.

Were you trying to distract him?

He pauses, and you catch his eyes promptly. You don’t make him wait and his brain fizzles out for a second, a silence he doesn’t get to linger in enough to appreciate, as his eyes rake over your features, your eyes manage to exist in screaming color while the rest withers away, uncompromising. And then ever so slightly, the corners of your lips turn upwards in a smile that isn’t inundated with sympathy for him. Instead, you’re everything that you ever are, sugary sweet and nothing like his forget me nots. You’re akin to cherry blossoms that sprout throughout spring.

So scintillating, too exorbitant he’s obligated to tear his gaze away from you.

Jake had long discarded his deficient organ - so called heart. It is nothing more than meritless and it died the day his mother left this world. It only ever subsists to awaken him once it slips his mind that he is alive, he is present if not that, it’s here to remind him he is made of his anxiety.

Right now, an interval of many years that feels closer to decades than anything, his heart skips a beat, not out of trepidation.

However, it being so unwonted does not give it any more sprinkle of an eminence, it persists in being counterfeit. It disintegrates the moment your own heart picks up speed, the moment a blush starts to bloom high on your cheeks because the softness glazing his features is never directed at you.

It is completely foolish, how hope remains an adherent wavering spirit, and it crumbles in the blink of an eyes, right when his eyes shift to somewhere behind you.

“Soojin..” he mutters and your expression falls.

Jake never gets to see it cause he’s out of your sight as soon as her name leaves his mouth. Getting up from his seat and abandoning the papers he had between his hands and you with them, as you look down at them, it’s ironic how your blush subsides, instead you feel as inconsequential as a piece of paper. Trifle.

“Soojin! Fuck are you okay?” He asks once he’s in front of her, hands on her shoulders and his eyes etched with concern as they dart over her figure in a rapid search for any visible wounds, any evidence to pack up his growing anxious feelings but he finds nothing but puffy eyes and a breathy yawn.

“Gosh I was so tired I ended up falling asleep in the car. Sorry for being so late.” She chuckles sheepishly and despite the smile clinging to her ravishing face it isn’t enough to estrange his ghosts, they stay like foreboding shackles tightened around his ankles, dragging him down.

He almost stumbles, shoulders slumping as his overwhelming feelings transform themselves into pure enervation, it is enough for Soojin to take notice of his all-knowing telltale signs of his anxiety and this time she’s the one who holds him, as if she’s ever able to keep pieces of him together.

“Hey, hey I’m okay Jake.” Despite the nod he gives her, his unfocused eyes are an indication of how he’s not actually listening. His worry only starts to melt when she brings his palm right atop her pulse, pressing his fingers right where life beats “I’m okay,” she whispers softly.

“you’re okay.” He repeats, more to himself yet she nods incessantly.

“I’m here. I’m okay.” Her fingers intertwine with his, laced with a pledge to bring ease into his jumbled-up mind and when she squeezes, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he needed to release.

He is constantly overshadowed by exhaustion. And you sit in a corner, gaze locked on their hands, it only irks your uncertainties -akin to his monsters- to raise to the surface. A feeling you’re so inured to stirs in the middle of your chest, it’s not pleasant and it feels like callous hands have made their way inside, clutching it until you feel like you can’t breathe. Not when she’s here.

You pack your papers and leave the room with an unyielding grip, a heavy emotion sits in the Indeterminate territory between you two, your body is colliding against these walls and it’s all too familiar jealousy.

why why why

Jake only notices when he’s calmed down enough, with furrowed eyebrows his eyes scanned the room looking for glimpses of you.

“Good job everyone! That’s all for today!” one of the staff members yells, a cluster of ‘Good job’s is being thrown around, staff walking around to pack a mess the photoshoot had left behind.

Jake slumps in his chair with a sigh, an ache is starting to spread throughout his body, specifically his shoulders. Despite not having a long day of work unlike his usual days he just feels so exhausted. Soojin stands close by munching on a mini croissant, his mini croissant to be specific.

“You could have asked,” he remarks and Soojin only snorts in response.

“I could have,” she shrugs with a smirk tugging at her lips and Jake’s eyes are already rolling “but I didn’t feel like it.”

He finds nothing to say back, instead his eyes are lolling to you, who’s a few steps away from him, writing something down with enormous potency it’s almost comical. You’ve been a little off ever since his little episode earlier today. Avoiding his eyes and only talking when you’re talked to. Truthfully, it’s how Jake wished you to be, but he knows your proclivity for chatter, for loud laughter to know that you’re not okay.

“Bunny.” He doesn’t get a respond.

“yn.” this time you look up, glancing at him with an empty expression.

Ah so you are upset.

With a raised brow and his index finger beckons you to come over, you sigh, making a show of dragging your feet to him.

“Yes?” you ask when you’re in front of him, looking down at him with faux emptiness clinging to the tips of your lashes.

“Could you get me my phone? I left it in my dressing room right on the vanity.” You nod mutely and just as you’re about to leave Soojin speaks up “Oh! I left my phone there too could you grab it please? It’s the one with the red phone case!” she claps her hands together in a plea, a sweet smile spreading across her face and yet an almost eerie silence fills the air as you turn your head to face her.

“You’re talking to me?” there’s an edge to your tone that makes Soojin’s expression fall, her mouth opening and closing a couple of time.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” She trails off, bewildered.

Your lips separates, ready to spit a response and Jake knows the look in your eyes cannot be anything good and so he stands up, walking past you with a demanding “Follow me.” voice laced with enough venom for your words to dissolve on your tongue and you saunter behind him.

Once you’re in his dressing room, the door is locked, and he faces you with crossed arms. The room is leaden with stillness that has your heart picking up speed, your eye contact falls into a familiar dance, lead by tension, vexation and then something that tastes akin to abhor.

“Are you okay?” he asks and despite the shaking of your soul you stay as frigid as stone. The way your eyes flit behind him in avoidance starts to annoy him right away but he pulls on his composure.

“I’m perfect,” sarcasm drips from your voice and his own teeth sink into his bottom lip, thinking of the right words to say.

“You seem pretty upset.”

“It’s your imagination.” The sneer on your face is cruel enough to expose your lousy acting and he only sighs, his hand falling to rest at his hip.

“If you’re tired you can take the rest of the day off, bunny.”

“I’m perfectly fine Jake.”

“Are you sure? I’m just asking because I assume you’re still worried about your brother so you can leave, or you can take the next few days off.” He attempts to lean down, closer to your height in grappling tries to catch your eyes, his words dripping with odd tenderness, it feels foreign in his mouth.

“Oh!” an extravagant widened gaze takes over your face, your feigned coldness is washed away by the heat of your emotions , profoundly.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing your little reunion,” this time you’re not running away, this time your hardened stare melts his softness right off him “you’re trying to get rid of me now?”

“What’s with this attitude? Huh? I'm only trying to help." His benevolent demeanor is already fleeing, replaced with stoicism.

“I don’t have an attitude.”

“Yeah, you do. You’re acting like a fucking brat yn.” you breathe out through your nose, you feel your bones shake from within with licks of anger, it matches the fire setting his eyes ablaze.

“How am I acting like a brat?”

“Do I have to spill everything out for you every single time?” he spits, indignation seeping into every word.

“So, when I treat you the same way you treat me, I’m being a brat?”

“So, you do know what you’re doing.” He raises his eyebrow at you in mocking provocation while your eyes start to escape his anew.

“If you’re gonna ignore me then don’t be mad when I do the same.” You mutter in a much smaller voice, and maybe because you sound frangible, curling into yourself as if that will help you appear smaller, shrinking under his gaze that his annoyance subsides for a moment.

He sighs, demolishing his aggravation for a moment.

“I’m sorry bunny I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just relieved to see Soojin.”

You don’t foresee an apology tumbling out his lips and when it happens it leaves you foundering, not sure how to deal with this mess between you two now. You fall into a discomfiting silence, with callow stubbornness you rake your brain to find something to throw at him, something to blame him for, something that will help quiet down the voice inside of you. yet you come back empty handed.

“Are we good now?” he asks, and you swallow, eyes darting between him and the wall behind him, a yes nor a no wants to find place on your tongue. At the lack of response from you he turns to leave.

You feel foolish as a misplaced proprietorial desire drapes over you when you mutter your next words; “of course you’re going back to her.” A part of you wishes he didn’t hear you, it’s too hideous of a truth for you to admit yet when Jake turns to face you with a twisted expression. Fulfilment engulfs you, knowing you aren’t the only person who cares enough to be drowning in anger.

“Are you jealous?” he jeers.

“I’m not jealous.” Your glare is a flimsy barrier against your veracity.

“You better not be. You and I both know exactly what this is.” He says, pointing at the space between you and him and when your eyebrows scrunch together, he is only grows confused at your anger, doesn’t quite understand what triggered it.

“With the way you keep treating me it’s hard to fucking forget.”

Jake was never really an angry person; he did get annoyed about a lot of things, and many might have considered him sensitive towards a lot of things as well. The list of adjectives to describe him is long and angry isn’t even in his top ten. Yet you, with a flame-like personality and piercing eyes as deep as oceans he only ever sees in his dream, manage to make rage his utmost emotion. You have it rushing through his veins and it’s moments like these when he’s standing in front of you, he feels like nothing but a hurricane of rage and every dark emotion in between.

In an inhale of harsh anger, he has you against the wall, caging your body with a palm flat next to your head, he tilts his head to regard you with a narrowed gaze, doused with wrath that has your knees buckling.

“I’m so sick of having this fucking conversation with you.”

“We don’t have to talk.” You sneer.

“I’m not doing this with you.” he scoffs in disbelief at your words and your eyes only grow harsher with disdain.

“what’s wrong? You can’t fuck me when your dear Soojin is outside?” you mutter atop his lips, your eyes fliting between his mouth and eyes, and the scowl that crawls over his face looks delicious “no. I’m not fucking you because you’re feeling insecure and you don’t know how to deal with your emotions.”

One thing about you, is you’re always as translucent as glass, despite your futile attempts at standing your ground, the way you try to keep your stare as bitter, it all crumbles in front of him and he sees past it all. It’s in the way your eyebrows drop ever so slightly, the way your lips separate with a slight breath as if you felt his words grazing the surface of your heart.

“Keep lying to yourself Jake.”

How do you manage to still get on his nerves? He’s not sure anymore. Even when he cups your face with one hand, denting your cheeks with his fingers.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re pissing me the fuck off.” He spits through gritted teeth, eyes flashing in warning, yet you don’t relent.

“Make me.” you whisper, a smirk curling your lips upwards.

He doesn’t kiss you like he knows you want him to, it’s so evident in the way your eyes fall lidded with hunger, your lips falling open with breaths as you involuntary lean forward with a want for a taste of him. The glint in your eyes, resembles the moon is enough for him to snap, igniting the flame of desire within him and he groans, flipping your body and pressing your chest to the wall, with your wrist between his grip and pressing them into your lower back, a gasp shooting from your lips as you attempt to look back at him.

“Jake what the fu-“

“Shut up.” He growls in your ear, laced by displeasure and overtaken by lust.

Your short skirt gives facile access to his thigh when he nudges it between your legs and against your clothed cunt, an inadvertent shiver courses through your body, every comeback you had conjured up flees your mind and instead a barely audible whimper escapes your lips.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he presses his chest against your back “like the fucking brat you are, so you better take it.” He tells you darkly, his words looming over you and your silence lingers, hanging your head pathetically and he wants to scoff.

For someone who talks so much you fall apart easily every single time.

With a glare set on the back of your head, as if his eyes are bullets that can break through your skull, you shiver when you feel his cold hands remove your underwear. His fingers brush against your folds and wetness meet his hands, a breath of belittlement escapes him, burning the entirety of your face bright red.

“Does pissing me off really turn you on that much?”

You force a swallow, your head lolling into a haze of arousal and your vigour for a quarrel dissolve becoming one with the floor.

“that’s not it-.” You attempt to reply, your words are cut off by a gasp forcing its way out of you when he presses you further against the wall, your cheek centimeters away from it “didn’t I fucking tell you to shut up?” your sanity collapses along with your common sense, intoxicated by his voice “why the fuck are you talking huh?” he taunts and this time you don’t answer, your chest heaving with the proximity.

His fingers loosen from around your wrists, but you keep them where they are, daunted by retribution. They throb, matching the beating of your heart against your ribcage. He leaves behind reddening marks, residue of a rage that only you are able to inflict on him. He moves quickly to remove himself from the confines of his pants.

You turn your head to the side slightly, stealing a glance at him with an idiotic hope that it’s unobtrusive yet they stumble upon his frighteningly nimble.

“Face the wall I don’t want to fucking look at you.” with a scowl plastered across his face, his voice doused enmity has you whimpering, melting the metal of malignant insults right off your brain as you turn to face the wall again.

your body tenses at the feeling of him lining his cock up with your entrance, his hands rough against the skin of your body and when he sinks into you, he doesn’t give you much time to linger for breathing, setting a pace that is nothing less than brutal, one of his hands inches upwards and wraps around your throat driving you to the brink of insanity, you’re constantly fighting against a losing battle and your moans spill endlessly.

“J-jake slow down.” You cry out, your hand reaching for his hips to somehow impede them.

“Quiet.” He hisses, his tone shaking with a groan and you’re even more turned on by his gravel voice “if you make another sound, I’m gonna stop and leave you like this, do you understand?” you could only whimper in response, a piteous sound that feels revolting as it falls upon your ears, you wish to block it yet a prodigious wish takes over, you hope he takes it as enough of affirmative.

He picks up speed, grows harsher with every thrust, not caring if this whole thing is turning vengeful more than anything else, your teeth sink in your bottom lip, banishing your sounds of pleasure and your eyes roll back, you hang your head, exhilaration taking your mind through a whirlwind, your pain and ecstasy tangling together into a song of nothing but sin and loathing.

At a particular harsh thrust you’re launched forward, your cheek pressing against the cold surface and you’re falling apart, eyes falling open lined with tears, and you lock gazes with him unintended. He is not sure if it’s the whine you let out, or your rapture soaked expression, it’s probably your tears shining like specks of glitter on still water. Whatever it is, it has him by his throat, within reach and his anger is lost in between your arousal as he leans forward and takes your lips for his.

Imprisoning you in a curse of passion with his kiss and you let out a wanton moan against his mouth, as if you were dying to feel his lips upon yours.

He fucks you through your orgasm and his.

As soon as the smoke of lust clears up, a contrasting tension fills the heavy breaths between you two. He moves away from you in silence, his limbs filling with aversion towards you and himself for giving in to you. More than anything he’s congested with disenchantment that he hopes his eyes covey when he looks at you.

“you’re acting the same way you acted the first time this happened.” You ridicule, hurt creases your glance and he lets out a humorless laugh that has you frowning.

“I’m still fucking pissed at you.” he’s flooded with disbelief “did you think I was gonna fuck you and then everything was going to be fine?”

You fall silent, lips pressing together and really there you go again, igniting the flame of prickling rage within him. It has him wanting to pull at his hair, he doesn’t understand you, constantly confused by the way your mind works, the emotions swimming in your eyes aren’t close to aiding anything and it only waters his disappointment. Plunges it further into dirt the more he recalls the events of the day.

You blend with everyone else, everyone who sees him as a shiny toy to play with, to ease their inquisitiveness. After that he is nothing.

“Jake-” You start and your words are once again snatched away from you, a knock on the door purloins his attention away from you.

“Jake? Are you still coming to the store opening with me?” Soojin’s voice reverberates from behind the door, like a blade flung at your chest, your fist clenched.

“I’m coming.” He replies, moving to tidy himself and you splutter, hands going through your hair nervously “y-you’re leaving? Just give me a few minutes to sort out myself-“

“You’re not coming with me.”

“What? But I always go everywhere with you.”

“Not this time.”

You mouth opens and closes a couple of times, suddenly your resentment flees your body like a breath of air, nerves taking their place just as quickly, building all the way to your throat.

“I understand you’re mad at me but at least let me do my job.”

“Your job is to listen to me,” his icy eyes flit to your convoluted ones “I’m telling you I don’t need you so you’re not coming.”

He doesn’t give room for your answer to exist, he leaves the room with despondency clinging to his ankles, a headache is already starting to form and his heart is loaded heavy with conflicting emotions that only ever exist because of you. Disappointment slithers its path throughout his being and he’s growing frustrated for letting himself kneel into hope in the first place. How stupid. The feeling lingers even when he’s in the car with Soojin next to him, her concerned eyes glued to him.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her palm envelopes his with warmth and he doesn't have courage to tell her about the emotions that are breaking him down.

He can't tell her.

You’re just like everyone else.

→ taglist : @slutforsjy @wonwoos-wineparty @nxzz-skz @piripurora @vousty

@realrintaro @slut4hee @chartrucewhore @iveivory @hearteyesforseungsung

@jooniesbears-blog @hee4lifer @babrieeee @mandoscyare

@stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @softieluvsyou @seunghancore @chaewonshoney

@beommii @fuxktaekook @antonsgirlfriend @nessas-archive @lukeys-giggle

@arikazu @pochamocharoll @chlodavids @jakeyverse

@belovedsthings @vveebee @duhgurl @niniissus

208 notes · View notes

cozyquinn · 2 years ago

Text

Not bad, old man

Hopping on the older!eddie hype here, seeing as its the only thing I've been able to write anything for recently, bloody writer's block. I'm a sucker for age gap fics, so couldn't resist going for the upper end of the age gap here- Eddie is late 40s, reader is written to be 22-24 (these ages are not mentioned in the fic but they are the ones I had in mind when writing)

A/N: I've left reader's description as bare as possible, down to not specifying what clothes are worn by reader to make it as plausible as a self-insert as possible. I hope it doesn't retract any from the fic! Not 100% happy with this one, but hope it suffices!

I have since gone back through and amended parts that perhaps could have been thought through a little better and added bits in to smooth things out a bit!

Also, I do not give permission for my work to be replicated or reposted anywhere.

summary: When Eddie agrees to resume his place in Corroded Coffin for one night as a favour to Gareth, he doesn't expect the Hideout to offer an opportunity to go home with anyone, let alone the pretty girl half his age.

warnings: 18+ smut ahead, minors DNI. Blogs interacting with this work who do not have their age in bio will be blocked.

No established timeframe, NO established relationship, older!Eddie x fem!reader, NO use of Y/N

trigger warnings for: age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (sweet thing, sweetheart, baby, baby girl), use of 'fetish' or kink related nicknames (Daddy, Sir), p in v intercourse, oral (f receiving, mention of m receiving) spanking with hand, choking aftercare at the end! Please let me know if you find any others, but also note that this list is not exhaustive- please consume content safely and cautiously! If you don't like this kind of content, please just scroll on!

Your sober mind does little to dull out the unpleasantness of the Hideout in all its stale and smoky glory. The unfamiliar surroundings and gawping eyes of older men have you shrinking into the peeling wallpaper.

Only here thanks to the lack of excitement anywhere else mid-week in Hawkins, Indiana, and the promise that the headlining bands didn't always suck, you settle yourself comfortably against the wall.

Swearing to yourself you'd stay sober tonight, you nurse a tepid Coke -if you could call it that- in your hands, the measly dash of ice now fully melted by the heat of your hands and the heavy smoker's breath filling the room; condensation on your glass matching the slow drip of perspiration at the nape of your neck, both cooling your skin some.

A murmured voice announces the headlining band of the night, and you watch as four older men bustle on to the stage; a concoction of greying hair and fading ink that adorns the skin on show.

The band's entrance is blighted somewhat by a commotion amongst the 18-strong crowd; an elderly patron being shooed from the bar for his rather chancey grope at the band's sole groupie's backside.

On the stage, Eddie shakes his head with a smirk, remarking to himself how some things never change. The wrinkles forming around his eyes deepen as he squints into the cheap fluorescent lights blaring down on him.

Breathing in the stale air of his old stomping ground offers him a little confidence, but doesn't mask the time passed since he was last here; reminiscing on days of shooting the shit until early hours and thrashing himself across the stage until his bones ached.

He scans the room finding mostly dull eyes, only partly bothered by the presence of the aged misfits readying their instruments; the overall response not helping to calm his nerves from years of avoiding any kind of stage presence. This appearance was just a favour to Gareth, after all.

That is, until his eyes fall on you tucked quietly to the side of the room. Entirely out of place, but a gracious reprieve from the groaning oldies giving Eddie an age complex in his forties.

He feels a pang, a warmth, radiating from you across the room; he shakes the years from his heavy shoulders, only breaking your eye contact with a confident wink in your direction.

You quirk a smile up at the older metalhead on stage, his eyes glinting back in amusement as his bandmate musters up an anticipatory drumroll behind him; the rumble sent out across the floor lit a flame of energy below your feet, the vibration coaxing boldness through your bones as you sway to the music.

You keep your eyes trained on him throughout the set, darting between the silver strands scattered throughout his brown curls, his strong hands adorned with rings commanding control over the slender neck of his guitar, and the snarling twitches of his lips as he belts out vocals.

In Eddie's mind, the set goes without a hitch- minus the few misplayed notes dotted here and there from a lack of recent practice. 'Not bad for an old timer, huh', he thinks to himself.

He sets down his guitar, letting the guys know he was heading to the bar to wetten his hoarse throat.

Despite his best efforts to resist temptation -to remind himself of his seniority- he finds himself veering towards you where you'd settled on the left side of the bar, taking in your misplaced youthfullness amongst heavy smoke and wrinkled skin.

He approaches you, announcing his presence to your turned back with a kind greeting to the bartender. You turn your head just as his palm gently brushes your shoulder.

"Hey there, sweet thing. Mind if I sit here?" He says, gesturing to the seat to your right.

"Go ahead" you nod, turning to face him as he settles onto the fraying fabric and creaking wood.

"Thanks doll, the name's Eddie"

He reaches for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his chapped lips; a blush rising from your chest as you garble out your own monicker with as much composure as you can muster. A tarnished ring catches your finger as he gently pulls his hand away, electricity seering through your palm in its wake.

"I see you stuck around for the set. What'dya think?" He keeps up the conversation, a warm smile never leaving his face.

"Yeah, I saw you up there. You were pretty good, for an old man" You quirk your shoulders, a sly grin gracing your soft features as you eye him up from your periphery; doing anything to force a calm facade amongst the flurry of entirely inappropriate thoughts breaching your mind as you eye him up close.

"Oh, low blow. You wound me sweetheart" He chuckles with a hand held mockingly to his chest, any suggestion of real hurt in his voice dampened by the deep-set grin adorning his face. He continues before you can respond.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing here, anyway? Would'na taken this place to be your kind of scene"

You shrug, dipping your head to focus in on your fingers fidgeting against the cup in your hands, doing your best to hide your blush from his attentive eyes.

"I guess I was just looking for something different. I'm sick of all those hyped up bars charging twice the price and offering glorified karaoke as headline bands, you know?" You say, a mischievous glint in your eye as you watch him through your eyelashes.

This earns you a deep chuckle, the gruffness settling heavily on your chest and lighting a warmth under your skin.

"Yeah, I get that" he nods, his eyes squinting in thought for a second.

"Uh, can I get you a drink? Least I could do since you stuck around for the whole set?" Eddie's eyes light up at his own gentle humour, a kind smile settled on his lips to keep you sweet.

Smiling sweetly in thanks for the offer, you reply.

"Oh, I'm not drinking tonight. Not alcohol anyway, just sticking to whatever sugar saturated crap this is supposed to be."

You raise your half-full cup to him with a laugh, trying desperately to ignore the throb settling between your thighs with each look he sends your way.

He laughs deeply, nodding understandingly at your response. He shifts on his seat, his calloused fingers reaching to scratch at the base of his neck.

"I forgot how humid this damn place gets" His voice is hoarse with age and strain but smoothens out with a cough.

He stands, shrugging off his thinning red flannel to reveal a plethora of faded ink dotted down his arms. Your eyes settle on the slightly blownout bats rounding his forearm; wondering what else could be hiding beneath the black shirt left hugging his torso.

Your heart thumps a little harder as your eyes scan out wider, along his broad shoulders and down towards his covered navel. The heavy breath leaving your lips thickens the air around you, winding around your throat in a way you imagine Eddie's rough hand would.

You're cruelly brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Eddie's voice above you.

"Hey darlin', you got a lil bit'a drool right-" he pauses, bringing his forefinger to the corner of his upturned mouth and brushing the greying fuzz above his lip.

You bring your hand up to your face with speed, frantically wiping and prodding at your lips; your mind burning with embarassment, your cunt betraying you with a clench.

He leans down, the scratch of salt and pepper scruff along his jawline tickling your cheek as his supple lips tease the shell of your ear. A gentle whisper sending a flush from your cheeks to your gently throbbing cunt.

"I'm just teasing ya, sweetheart" He takes a small breath before continuing.

"But don't think I haven't seen you eyeing me up. Didn't your daddy ever tell you it was rude to stare?"

His words punch a gasp from your chest, and his sly grin darkens the red tinge adorning your cheeks.

With eyes wide and pupils blown, you lean back. Your mouth agape, lips lightly trembling, as you search your clouded brain desperately for a response.

Eddie beats you to it, his right hand now gently approaching your cheek, his forefinger outstretched to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear; the clench of your thighs doesn't go unnoticed.

A quiet whimper leaves your lips as he brings you closer, his rough palm now caressing your neck. His thumb gently rubs along the vein pulsing through your skin, applying enough pressure to have your eyes fluttering closed and your hands reaching up to his tousled curls for purchase.

Without a second thought, your lips are on his. Chapped against smooth, you taste a hint of settled smoke and mint. You deepen the kiss, wanting to taste more of him. His rough tongue fights with yours, experience overpowering desperation.

His hands map out the path of your body, cupping and pinching in all the right places before they settle on your ass. Experienced fingers pressing into your flesh with a delicious sting, soothed by the lick of cool metal. His lips leave yours as he trails kisses along your chin, suckling a sweet red bud into your skin where your neck meets your jaw.

His mind fights an internal battle. He knows better, you've got to be at least half his age, but the aching pulse from his cock wins over.

"How about I show you what this old man can do, huh?" He growls into your ear, pulling you up onto your tiptoes as he nuzzles his strong nose into your throat.

You squeak out a "yes", the word drawling into a squeal when his teeth nip at your soft skin.

"Was hopin' you'd say that"

With that, he's leading you towards the door, leaving behind any semblance of your control and the now-flat cola you placed clumsily onto the bar.

Your feet stumble slightly underneath you as you try to keep up. The thrash of your thighs against each other with each small misstep eliciting a feeble whine from your lips.

Disregarding the call from Gareth across the room, Eddie thrusts you both out into the crisp air; gently draping the thin material of his flannel over your shoulders as he leads you to his van parked in the lot just a few feet from the door.

Throwing himself into the drivers seat with an urgency he thought he lost in his thirties, Eddie starts the engine and whips the van out of the lot quicker than your hazy mind can keep up with.

Your pulse races to the thrum of the engine, Eddie's hand squeezing your supple thigh leaves you twitching and aching for more; thanking all that's holy for the short distance between the Hideout and Eddie's trailer when he parks up.

He helps you out of his van, his arm flexing around your waist as he half-carries you to the threshold of his front door; swinging it open gently with the rattle of rusting keys.

"Sorry sweetheart. It ain't much, but it's mine" he murmurs, lightly gesturing to the small space of his living room.

You shake your head, a whispered reassurance of his home's perfection slipping through the crack of your swollen lips, you grasp his forearms with desperation, hoping he'll feel the throb of your hole through your hands.

Eddie seems to get the message, pointing in the direction of his room, sealing his promise of joining you in a moment with a kiss.

You rush to his room, peeling your outer layers of clothing from your body, fondling your breasts and teasing the slope of your hips as you go. Unclasping your bra, you toy with the straps in a teasing game, edging yourself with fingertip caresses against your skin.

A hungry grunt behind you grabs your attention, halting your sweet touches. You turn, gently circling your shoulders to tease away the straps sitting pretty on your clavicle.

You spread your arms out infront of you, sending your bra tumbling to the floor; a gentle request for closeness, your skin screaming to be touched.

Standing in just his underwear, Eddie's eyes trace your figure from top to bottom, his chapped lips being soothed with the brush of his tongue across them; you parallel his softness with a harsh bite to your bottom lip as your eyes follow the path of his tattoos to the bulge tenting his boxers.

The only reminder of his age sits at the edge of his eyes, the lines there softening his rugged look. He gives you little time to admire his mature but toned body as, with a feralness you've never before experienced, Eddie has you pinned to the bed.

His hips hold yours to the mattress, the giration of his pelvis offering sweet, agonising relief to your swollen clit through the layers of fabric.

He pulls away, planting hot kisses down your body with a desperation unmatched, the tickle of coarse stubble against your skin soothed by the drag of his warm tongue.

As he reaches the peak of your mound, your jittering hands inch down to circle your thumbs across his cheeks. His deep brown eyes settle on you, committing your vulnerable beauty to memory.

Your fingers loop through his hair, his silver curls adorning your digits like delicate rings as you rut your hips towards him. A sweet whine is all it takes to beckon the touch of his thick fingers through the cotton modesty of your panties.

You writhe and whine, begging for more; the blush of your cunt calling to his cock like a siren's song to a sailor. A slow stream of arousal fills your panties, hollowing the material to show the empty clench of your heat.

"Please Daddy"

It's barely a whisper but Eddie hears it, clear as a bell. His eyes widen for a moment, mirroring your disbelief at the words uttered from your mouth, before he's smirking into your clammy skin.

"What was that baby? Want to repeat that for me?"

You whine, shaking your head as your desperation fights shame. You squeeze your eyes shut and plead, "please Daddy, need you"

He smirks to himself. Whispering so low you'll never hear, "Daddy kink, huh. Should've guessed that one".

Raising his voice enough to flood your senses, his words ring out.

"Sweet little girl wants more, huh?" The smirk evident in his words.

He settles a rugged finger under your chin to coax your gaze back up to his, holding you there whilst you squirm; tears brimming your stinging eyelids.

"No need to cry sweetheart, Daddy's got you" he promises with a gentle tug and pull at the waistband of your panties until they hang idly from your ankle.

He wastes no time in blessing your bundle of nerves with his experienced tongue, branding the Munson name into your skin amongst calculated figure-of-eights.

You sob sweet nothings into the heavy air as his fingers breach the cusp of your entrance. His free hand takes purchase of your chin, curling you in on yourself to watch as the tattoos decorating his knuckles disappear into your heat with a squelch.

The cold sear of his rings against your sore folds has you hissing under your breath; each plunge of his fingers offering a new sweet wetness over the shimmering metal.

You beg to repay the favour, offering him your desperate mouth, as a blinding pressure builds in your core. He reassures you "next time baby", as you soak his fingers, extinguishing the flame of the inked candle on his middle finger with your wet.

Leaving you no time to regain your breath, his mouth is on your lips, your cheeks, your throat. Plump lips caressing your skin as the throbbing head of his cock kisses your entrance.

You whine as he enters you, the stretch unholy as you adjust to his size. His heavy balls rest against your pert arse and his hazy smile tells you he's exactly where he wants to be.

"That's it baby girl. Feels good, huh? Old man still got it?"

He taunts you with your earlier jabs. The curve of his cock relentlessly prodding at your aching walls, sweetening the sting of his jeering.

Flashes of white appear in your vision with each harsh thrust of his hips and snarl from his chest, and you grind your hips further down on to his pulsing cock.

You nod frantically to answer his question, your hands caressing his still-soft skin before puncturing your nails through the swell of his shoulders.

His desperation starts to show, his calloused hands slipping beneath your backside to hold your hips at an angle. His tip kisses your cervix, punching harsh moans from your chest as his thrusts start to falter.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart. Tell me where you want it"

Your head lolls back as you whimper a pathetic "inside me Daddy, please", your own words driving you over the edge to your honey-sweet climax as you quiver beneath him.

His cock throbs inside you, each flex against your walls sending aftershocks through your spent body. His forehead rests against your breasts, both of you rapidly chasing steady breath. As you calm down, he gently removes himself from you, rubbing soothing circles into your hips to lessen the sting.

"I'll be right back babygirl", he whispers into your cheek with a kiss, leaving the room momentarily to grab a damp cloth to clean you up.

You turn to him once the rise and fall of your chest has steadied, your bleary eyes finding adoration staring back. He smiles widely at you as he pulls you in close to his side, but you're the first to speak.

"You okay?", you ask quietly with a smile, not wanting to disturb the moment.

"More than okay. How you holdin' up, sweetheart?"

You only nod in response, your gentle eyes reassuring him that you were doing just fine.

His smile widens, a mischievous glint taking form as your eyes flutter closed.

He chuckles to himself, the vibration of his chest caressing your cheek as his gruff voice fills the air again.

"Not bad for an old man, huh?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson one shot #older!eddie #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie x you

3K notes · View notes

thetxtdevil · 5 months ago

Text

Fashion Week

Yeonjun x Reader

summary: Yeonjun goes to Paris, France for Fashion Week to look at the latest hot styles. He's also going to meet up with a super hot model.

content: smut, fashionista idol yeonjun, supermodel fem.reader, paris/fashion week setting, they've hooked up before, strip tease?, blowjob, (fem) masturbation, consumption of cum :P, fingering, condom use finally, doggy style

word count: 1.4k

The sun was bright, shining down the many fashion lovers attending Paris Fashion Week. Yeonjun was known to attend the men's portion of fashion week. He was all for the new trends and beautiful garments that matched his own beauty. Once the shows he was invited to ended he sent his asks for certain styles and quickly heads for another show specifically for women.

Luckily, the french weather had suddenly changed, sun covered by clouds making it more bearable for Yeonjun to run down the cobblestone road to a old lavish building. Walking in the garden that surround the building, the green grass became covered with paparazzi. Yeonjun takes his time to wave and pose before continuing his journey to the show.

He loved all things fashion, the many styles, colors, its a way to express yourself however, in this show he was there for a specific supermodel. Sitting down on a wire framed chair in the front row Yeonjun relaxes under the cool breeze of air conditioning. The many women strut in spring inspired attire passing by as he watches contently. Yeonjun turn his head right when the the star of the show turns the corner.

Yeonjun leans forward elbows on his knees, he was in absolute awe. You, the supermodel he's been waiting for, strutting in confidence. Wearing an intricately made haute couture dress that fit like a glove. Yeonjun watches you closely, looking at you like you’re his next meal. Trying to focus on your walk, you simply glance towards the man keeping a straight face. Walking past him, you move your finger as a wave to the man. Yeonjun sees this little action, smirking and continues to study the dress and the definition of your exposed back.

After the show, Yeonjun makes no time for more paparazzi to take pictures of him. He was determined to make it to the back stage before you leave. A little overwhelmed by the many models changing and trying to leave, a women with a clipboard and headphones walks straight up to him, “Are you Yeonjun?”

“Uhhh yes...”

“Y/n asks for you in her dressing room.”

Yeonjun tilts his head, very pleased to have an escort to your room. The man follows the assistant making his way through the crowd of models. He arrives to a door, separating you from the crowd. Yeonjun slowly twists the doorknob and walks in. A substantial difference between the outside and the room, it was quiet with faint classical music playing in the background, and big widows that arched over head. Greenery framed the glass with a distant view of the Eiffel tower, it was simply romantic.

“I didn’t think I’d see you at the show” you walk into Yeonjun’s view hugging him. Yeonjun takes his chance to feel the expensive fabric along your body. You were currently in a slip dress worn underneath the original runway dress, the man's hands lingered for a while, he missed his little love affair with the model.

Your first big modeling gig was exciting for you and that excitement increased when you met Yeonjun at a after party. Hitting it off, naturally he lead you to his hotel room and since then every time you two were in the same city you guys meet.

You both separate when you walk to the partition, hiding the vanity, taking off your earrings and placing them on the surface. Yeonjun was not too far behind you, knowing you had nothing to hide when changing.

"After this I was thinking we can go out for a walk, get cappuccinos-" you stop mid-sentence when you feel hands unclasping your necklace. A slight shiver runs down your spine feeling his fingers graze your skin. This reaction was not unnoticed by the man. Yeonjun gets closer to your back, lightly tracing your arms, placing the delicate diamond necklace into your open palm. You watch him through your vanity mirror, watching as he presses his lips to your neck but you weren't prepared with how satisfying it would feel. Eyes fluttering shut, you tilt your head to the side letting him lightly kiss more of your exposed skin.

"or we can just stay in this dressing room a little longer." you smile looking at Yeonjun's same reaction reflected on the mirror.

Turing around, you plant your lips against his plush ones. Delicate fingers stroking Yeonjun's black hair. His big hands around your waist, all this felt like heaven.

Making the kiss harsher, you push the man towards the velvet sofa in the middle of the room. Falling into the cushions with him, you start to grind against his hard on. Moans slipping from both ends you break the kiss, lifting yourself off of Yeonjun. Slipping out of your slip dress letting it fall on the ground and then slowly taking off your black sheer panties throwing them at Yeonjun all while seductively staring at him.

Yeonjun catches your flung garment, feeling them to see that they were soaked. He watches you hover over him crawling down hooking your fingers to the band of his pants, unbuttoning, and lowering both the trousers and briefs. You reach your hand down between your legs, gathering your juices to lubricate Yeonjun's stiff cock. The man drools and groans at the sight, laying his head down on the couch. Hissing once he feels your lips wrap around his girth, skillfully bobbing your head up and down. God you were so enchanting, it would be so sad to leave you in agony.

"Touch yourself" Yeonjun commands.

You look up at him through your lashes and a mouth full of dick. Yeonjun nods his head confirming what he said. Continuing your pleasurable sucking with one hand you reach to your dripping pussy gently rubbing circles on your clit. Your eyes roll moaning against Yeonjun's cock sending electric vibrations causing the man to climax. "Fuck, you're good at this." Yeonjun can't help but thrust up into your throat to finally catch to his release. You still moaning, you decided to push the beauty under you over the edge by removing your glistening hand from you to his balls. With a loud "fuck" Yeonjun's cum was running down your throat and you gulping down every last bit.

You lift yourself up kneeling in front of the man catching your breathe. You stare at his sweaty face, smiling to yourself you lean in to kiss him. "Now lets get this designer outfit off you hmm?" Slowly but surely you undress Yeonjun revealing his lovely toned body. Not able to control yourself, you drag your hands on his abs delighted by the soft skin. Yeonjun smirks at your entranced state, "Bend over and let me see your ass, love." You obey his command, you twist on your knees turning away, grabbing a throw pillow to relax your elbows on.

Yeonjun changes positions kneeling in between your legs getting a handful of your plush ass. Tilting his head to the side as he sighs at how ravenous you looked, with one hand he slides his fingers within your slit then into your hole, "damn you're wet." Face already shoved in the pillow your whines were muffled. Yeonjun's free hand scavenges in his abandoned blazer looking for a condom. The plastic materiel gets into his reach, he puts it into his mouth biting it then rips it open. You let out a bratty cry when Yeonjun removes his fingers to apply the condom. "Don't worry, love, you're going to get what you want."

You look over your shoulder with plead in your eyes. Yeonjun lays his torso on your back kissing your shoulder as he rubs his cock among your glistening folds.

"Ready?"

"Yes god jjun just do i-"

You choke on your sentence when Yeonjun slams his dick into you, pushing your body forward into the pillow. Both of you pushed into delirium by the delicious feeling. Jolted moans escape your mouth going with the pace of Yeonjun's thrusts. You look back at him seeing his sinful concentration. "S-so good ah-" you try to praise but the feeling of his tip hitting that sweet spot had your back arching. Flames burning your core at the intense drive, walls begin to clench hard around Yeonjun. He huffs at the tightness, bending down again planting kisses and reaching around your hips to rub your clit.

Screaming and bending your back even more, pleasure was too sweet. "I-im mmm going to c-umm" you slur your words, it was out of your best effort. Yeonjun was close too, working hard through your tight walls he was determined to make you cum the same time as him. A long drawn out moan escapes your pretty pink lips, your high washes over you dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun finally cums gasping for air, pulling out to remove the uncomfortable wrapping.

With the energy you had left, you move to your side leaving room for the man to fit snug beside you. Noses touching, soft kisses, you both giggle at the euphoric moment of having sex in Paris.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt x you #txt x y/n #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you

189 notes · View notes

runningthroughthegarden · 5 months ago

Text

opening night - elijah hewson

summary: its the opening night of your bands tour. spotting inhaler in the crowd was not what you were expecting. locking eyes with elijah hewson was just the start to something new.

being in an up-and-coming band might have been the most exhilarating feeling in the world. it was scary and exciting and fresh. so signing up with a management company and headlining a small tour, you felt on top of the world. especially after finding out your management company also managed an Irish rock band, inhaler. you absolutely loved their music and would be lying if you said you didn't find the lead singer (very) attractive. this gave you the hopeful feeling that maybe one day you could be as successful as them.

as you sat in your dressing room applying your final makeup touches, you felt ecstatic. glittery lids that made your eyes pop on stage, shiny red lip-gloss that would transfer onto the mic and be gone within the first four songs. but you could care less, you felt beautiful. looking down at your lacy white dress and tall brown boots, it felt like your rockstar dreams were coming true.

getting to enjoy these moments with your absolute best friends in the entire world felt like a true blessing. you have shared such intimate moments with these girls and have created such amazing songs. hearing your managers voice, you snapped out of your thoughts.

"i really think you guys should play now you got me" he smiled while leaning against the door.

"the inhaler cover?" grace asked, looking up from tuning her guitar.

"yeah i mean theres a lot of cross between your two fandoms, i think the crowd would be really excited" he replied.

"you never request songs, whats up?" you ask with a grin, sensing some kind of plan coming along.

"nothing, nothing just think about it. show time in 5" he leaves closing the door behind him.

"he is so planning something" meg says, going to grab her drumsticks.

you all giggle, grabbing any last-minute things for the stage. you could hear chatter coming from the crowd as the lights began to dim, you had always loved going to concerts, so being on the other side of the stage was like heaven.

the cheers only grow as your opening song begins to play and everyone slowly walks onstage, walking over to their instruments. the lights come up as you walk on, and you know you're in for the night of your life.

you're a few songs into the setlist and the nerves have finally worn off. you have a tendency to toy with anything near or around you when your nervous. usually playing with the hem of your dress, just looking to calm yourself down. now that the nerves were gone, you felt comfortable to dance around and interact with the crowd.

mid song you were smiling down at a group of girls who were going crazy over the song. giggling during the song you looked out at the rest of the crowd, wanting to take it all in.

you almost passed out when you saw four familiar faces staring back at you. they were all there, standing at the back of the crowd. singing along, to your song. inhaler.

snapping out of your mini freak out, you continue through the song trying your best to be chill. elijah hewson. the man you were practically in love with was here, at your gig, intently watching you.

"that was wildflower" you giggle into the mic. praying that your bright red cheeks weren't visible under the bright lights.

immediately going back to freaking out, you walk over to grace.

"inhaler is here" you whisper, holding the mic away. she looks just as shocked as you were. giving a silent nod to the rest of the band, they immediately knew what was going on. you walk over to the mic stand, snapping the mic in place, praying that it will keep you standing upright.

"so tonight our manager insisted we sing this cover. and now i know why. this is now you got me" turning away from the crowd, you hear an insane uproar. damn, guess he was right. you have always loved singing this song, so here it goes i guess. better not fuck it up.

looking over at the boys, you see them cheering and practically jumping up and down. that gave you enough confidence to have fun and not worry about messing up.

now you got me wherever you want me. do i want you to say it back?

you don't know how or why but a rush of confidence surged through you and you locked eyes with elijah. elijah hewson. for a second you thought your knees were going to give out. the smile he gave you sent shivers down your spine.

because we can't stay. lets run away. now you got me where you want me.

snapping away from his gaze, you turn to your band deciding to just have fun with it. singing the lyrics to them and jumping up and down. for a split second you forgot inhaler was literally watching you. you were just having the absolute time of your life during the song. and so was the crowd. they were loving every second just as much as you.

the rest of the song was honestly a daze.

"if you see me blushing, no you dont" you giggle turning to take a sip of water.

the rest of the show was amazing. every song in the setlist was perfectly in place. the crowd was dancing and singing along. the band was having just as much, maybe even more, fun. it all just felt so right.

"thank you all for such an amazing night, i love you all. i hope to see you soon" waving bye and blowing kisses, you practically skip off stage. as soon as the curtain closes you and the band star hugging and jumping up and down.

heading back to the greenroom, on a show high, you see your manager sneaking in. giving everyone a weird look, you follow after him. nothing could have every prepared you for this moment, opening the door to see inhaler smiling back at you.

all of you girls are stopped dead in your tracks, feeling incredibly starstruck.

"glad you took my advice and played the song" your manager smiles.

you all start giggling trying to calm yourselves down. but you know your cheeks have already gone bright red, again.

"you guys were fucking sick" Ryan is the first to say.

from then on everyone breaks into chatter introducing themselves. it was so surreal to be meeting the band you looked up to for so long. you found yourself alone for a second, and before you knew it elijah was walking up to you.

"i'm elijah" he says reaching has hand out. taking it in yours you hope he doesnt feel the way your shaking.

"y/n" you reply, with a lovestruck smile and rosy cheeks.

"y'know you wrinkle your dress when you do that" he states, feeling the hem of your dress between his fingers.

"when i do what?" you ask confused.

"when you're nervous. you play with your dress. but you wrinkle it all up" he replies with a laugh and a smirk on his face.

god his accent. you were done for.

literally not being able to form sentences you just shoot him a confused look. his fingers were far too close to touching your skin.

"i was the same way, took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to get over the nerves." he says, letting his eyes flicker around your face.

"no ones ever really noticed that i do that" you gaze up at him.

"yeah um, it was kind of hard to take my eyes off of you" he suddenly seems really nervous. taking this as your opportunity to gain some confidence.

"oh really?" you question with a giggle.

"mhm made it even harder when you sang my own song better than me" he smiles down at you.

"well now i think its your turn to sing one of my songs better than me" you reply.

"i dont think thats possible" he laughs.

"me and the boys are in town for a few more days. would you want to go on a date with me?" he asks.

"yeah i would love to" you reply, unable to wipe the smile off your face.

"sounds like a plan, but for now i think we all need to go celebrate a killer opening night of tour" he states.

"i couldnt agree more"

a/n: super cheesy i know but i couldnt help myself

#elijah hewson #inhaler dublin #inhaler #ryan mcmahon #josh jenkinson #bobby skeetz #elijah hewson x reader

158 notes · View notes

0anonnymouslyours0 · 10 months ago

Note

hi i wanted to request something: singer!reader x remus smut backstage

drooled a little while writing this, warnings r smut (obvs) <3

your set is over, and the crowd is cheering, screaming even, as you wave before walking off stage. your last number.. well, it involved a lets just say interesting dance to accompany the song. that, paired with the little skirt and matching top was enough to set remus off. he was waiting side stage, and as you walked off he immediately pulled you in for a kiss.

"you looked so fucking hot out there.." he whispers, mid-kiss, as his hands take to roaming all over your body, and under the hem of your short skirt.

you giggle, pulling back. "somebodies rather excited.." you say, eyeing him.

"you know it." he says, leaning back in to kiss you roughly. his hands rest on your thighs, and he pulls you in closer to him, pressing you against him.

"dressing room-" you whisper, well aware of the many staff and crew who are eyeing you and remus.

he nods, grabbing your hand and dragging you to your dressing room, locking the door and pressing you against it forcefully. you let out a groan, as he kisses down your neck and along your collarbones. his arms are on either side of your head, caging you in. his knee sneaks up between your legs, bumping against your core. he kisses you with something you could only describe as hunger.

hes pulling off you in a flash, hands working to unzip your skirt and his own pants. he pulls of his shirt, giving you minimal time to admire him, before hes back to kissing you. dragging you to the couch in your room, hes laying you down, before moving on top of you.

"get me so worked up.. out there in your tiny skirt, looking so perfect." he whispers.

his hand trails down your stomach, reaching the top of your underwear. "can i?" he whispers, and you nod, quickly, desperate for his touch.

his hand slips under, finding your slit and running his fingers through it, before slowly rubbing your clit. his finger circles your entrance, before pushing into you. one finger, then two and you gasp as you feel the stretch.

hes watching you, admiring your face and your hair tussled around your head on the couch. he leans in to kiss your neck, just where you like it, and smirks as you let out a loud moan.

"think you can take me now?" he whispers,

and you nod, squirming in your position "please remus.." you practically whine.

hes pulling his boxers down, the tip of his hard cock trailing over your slit before pushing into you. the stretch is there, and you breath heavily as your body adjusts to the sheer size of him. he starts slow, warming you up, before his thrusts become rougher. the couch beneath you shaking as he groans. its not long before your hands are scratching down his back, eyes rolling into your head as he brings you to the edge.

remus always does know how to treat you post concert.

#oneshot #smut #fluff #female reader #masterlist #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #marauders smut #marauders

315 notes · View notes

thecapricunt1616 · 6 months ago

Text

Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all" ♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father. ♡ W/C: 2.9k ♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately.

If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser.

That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?

Yes please.

You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box.

That was how that night was supposed to go.

How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set.

You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income.

Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it.

Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers.

It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too.

When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.

But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin.

He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say.

“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing.

“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was.

“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything.

“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it.

It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his.

Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face.

Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.

He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey.

Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so.

He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red.

You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off.

When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house.

The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear.

“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..”

“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it.

“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked - and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions.

“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on.

“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“

“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased

“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned.

“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over.

He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school.

“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm.

“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this.

“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack.

“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips

“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation.

The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips

“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny.

“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub.

You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault.

The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?”

You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.

Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went.

He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -

And that bandaid was Tiff.

@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington

#CapriCarmy Oneshot #the bear fic #the bear #borders & banners by saradika #the bear 🐻#the bear fandom #Richie The Bear #richie jerimovich x fem reader #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich smut #richie jerimovich #richie jerimovich x reader #Richie Jerimovich x fem!reader #richie jerimovich imagine #Richie Jerimovich blurb #Richie Jerimovich drabble #Richie Jerimovich fanfiction #Richie Jerimovich the bear fanfiction

257 notes · View notes

haruchi-slit · 5 months ago

Text

"THERAPY IS EXPENSIVE BUT DICK IS FREE"

warnings: mdni, toji and reader meet in the bar, ooc (slight?), reader refered as: girl & slut, fucking against the wall, p in v, pussy eating, semi-public sex, not proof read... | a/n: almost scrapped this idea cause i had a migraine, i almost died :o

so exhausted from work and life? why not go have fun once in a while with your friends at the club? it had been a long and difficult week for you, dealing with the aftermath of your broken engagement to your now ex-fiance.

working under the pressure of your personal life is damn tough, you can't even get one work done without breaking into tears, remembering your fiancé of 5 years left you for some girl he met at work, his voice still echoes non-stop in your brain, the night he confronted you about your relationship, "I'm sorry, but i cant do this i cheated on you..." and it just makes your heart pulse and fuel with hatred and pain, with your hand in your head you sighed deeply as you continued to type in your laptop, your mascara all ruined and your eyes were sore, "I can't believe he can do that, fucking bitch, fucking shit, goodness burn in hell!" you grunt as you broke in to tears, you were a crying mess, you lolled your head back to your chair as streams of tears overwhelmed your thoughts,

"fuck-" you sighed, before hearing a knock on your office door, "w-wait!" you grumbled, wiping off your tears with the back of your hand, you stood up catching your breath as you opened the door you were greeted by shoko with yuki,

"heyyy! what are you two doing here?" you forced a smile, "girl are you ok? your fucking mascara is all over your face!" shoko worriedly asked as she nursed your cheeks wiping off your messed up mascara, "shoko, take a closer look, do you think she's ok? of course not, duh!" yuki blurted out as you chuckled,

"ok- guys what the fuck are you guys doing here?" you uttered,

"to get you outta misery!" yuki snickers, "yeah, what yuki said-" shoko sighed, "were taking you to the club, to destress" shoko continued,

"but i have work to do-" you dabated, "no butts, it's already been 2 months! i already talked to nanamin, he said it's fine and choso will take care of your work!" yuki exclaimed.

"you guys know i have to change right?" you rolled your eyes, sitting in the backseat of yuki's car, "yeah, that's why we brought you a some...stuff" shoko reaches out for the paper bag in the back of the car before giving it to you, "just change here in the car, the window's tinted" yuki chuckles as she focused on the road...

as soon as the three of you arrived at the club, you stepped out of the car along with yuki and shoko "youu look so fineee!" yuki smiled holding both of your hands, "damn, thank you", you smiled back, "guys c'mon let's go, i need a drink asap" shoko snapped the two of you back before she walked in the club, "yee let's have fun!" yuki exclaimed dragging you in the club, the three of you sat on the couch while the music blasts against your ears, it was so loud, the flickering lights blinded you as you looked around.

your eyes focused to the girls and guys bumping to each in the dancefloor, the stage crowded with girls doing the most nastiest moves as cash blows around them, till a particular person caught your attention, raven dark hair, green piercing eyes, tall and broad, bulging muscles and someone who looks like they're in their mid 30's, he's so fucking fine, glamorous even. while the three of you chat, and drink you and that gorgeous man exchanged the glares, he gives you one of the finest smirks across the club, all you could do was stare at him with a unconscious smirk plastered in your face,

"who are you looking at?" yuki sheepishly asked, while she waved one of her eyebrows, "definitely no one" you scoffed, as you swirled your alcohol in the glass cup, "oh really?" shoko jested, the three of you laughed, you took a glance on him once more while you sipped your alcohol to its last drop, you pressed your eye lids together as the alcohol flow down your throat.

"agh- let's go and have fun" you hissed, wiping of the alcohol that trickled down on the edges of your lips with your hand, "shitttt, and here we go the old her is backkk!" shoko exclaimed with yuki following you to the dance floor, where people are grinding against each other, you swayed your way close to him, you knew it was risky, flirting with a stranger in a bar, but you couldn't resist the opportunity to forget your dumb ass ex, you got a little closer to him grabbing his attention, "hey there mama, are you alone?" he starts of, radiating with charmness and suave, with a hint of danger in his dark eyes that only made him more appealing, "nah, I'm with my friends, here to forget my fucking ex" you drawn out hazed with the shots of alcohol you've just drunk, "oh really?" he chuckles "yeah, that fucking bitch wasted five years. five fucking years" you huffed, rolling your eyes, he smirks clearly amused by you, "toji. name's toji" he spoke and he was so fucking smooth with it, you chuckled in response, "no, need to know my name...toji" the both of you talked for what seemed like hours, lost in each other's company and the music pulsing through the club. you found yourself grinding against him as your conversation flowed so smoothly,

"y'know, i can take your pain away, hah" he whispers, his hot breath fanning your ear, sending shivers to your core,

before you knew it, toji was leading you to the club's restroom, his touch was gentle and reassuring, yet it was so rough, as he guided you through the crowd, you felt a surge of adrenaline at the thought of what was about to happen, a mix of fear and desire swirling in your veins as he pushed open the door and pulled you inside, you were so drunk in his presence...

in the dimly lit restroom, toji's lips met yours in a searing kiss that ignited a fire within your thobbing cunt. you instantly melted against him, with your body responding to his touch with a need that eclipsed all rational thought,

"t-touch me more-hah! kiss me more, please!" you gasped, as his hand roamed freely on you, his hand tracing on the edges and crevices of your perfect body, giving the attention that it needs, which your ex didn't do, he pressed you against the wall, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matched with your own, he rolled your dress up to your chest, almost ripping it off, he'd kiss your forehead before his kisses traveled down to your shoulders, stomach, before he dropped down to his knees, facing your clothed aching cunt,

"all I've done was touch and kiss you- so fucking wet already?" toji huffs, as you struggled to stand properly inside the bathroom stall, he tugs the hem of your panties as letting it pool down to the floor of the restroom, you placed your hand to his broad shoulders, the other on his hair, you saw him lick his lips, before diving down to your pulsing cunt, pushing you deep on the cold wall of the restroom, his hand grabbed a handful of your ass and thighs placing it on his shoulder prying your legs a little bit wider,

"hmmmnn~" you'd groan, stealing a pleased hum from you, as the brige of his graced your clit while he bobs his head up and down, you could feel his grunts vibrating against your gushing pussy, matched with his skilled tongue laying on your dripping cunt,

"t-toji- hgh" you moaned gripping on his hair, as he continues to bob his head on you,

"toji-" you moaned once again, with a breathy plea, "easy-" he purrs, before diving once more between your thighs, your thighs quivered as you feel your climax near.

in that moment, there was only toji and you locked in a dance of desire and need that transcended words, he moved his tongue in your cunt with grace and skill that took your breath away, with each lick he made sent you higher and higher towards a climax that left you gasping for more, "c'mon, girl..." he murmured fanning your cunt with his scorchingly hot breath, you felt your breath hitch as your climax gushed on his face,

"hghhh-toji!" you gasped, breathless.

catching your while he stood up hungrily unbuckling his belt, letting his pants fall down on the floor along with his boxers, revealing his hard cock, before he landed a rough, passionate kiss on your tender lips, you respond to him, feeling butterflies filling your

stomach, as your knees fell weak, your mouths puffing heated breaths agaist each other, while your hands roamed freely on him.

he lifts you up and pressed your body to the restroom's wall as he aligned his angry tip on your entrance, before plunging his cock in you

"ahck!- ngh~" you moaned softly as your gummy walls was quick to wrap toji's aching cock, toji grunts as he pushed you deeper against the wall burying his cock on your heavenly cunt,

"mhmm, that's what i like, girl- sucking me in so good, such a slut" he laughs, thrusting deeper in you, as waves of ecstasy, washed all over your body, your eyes clouded with haze and lust, your legs instinctively wrapped against his waist as he plunged mercilessly in your pussy, "fwuaack-!" he blabbered as sweat trickled down on his forehead, your chests heaving uncontrollably while toji buries his face on the crook of your neck, fastening his pace, "so.fucking.tight!" he cursed under his breath, while he slams his hips on you,

"to-to'i m' close, m' close!" you warned,

and soon after both of you felt a sense of release wash over your bodies, feeling estatic, both of you catched your breath as you feel your mixed juices trickle down the floor, he pulls back and faced you...

"so- uh what's your name?" toji inquired..

meanwhile, "where the fuck is she?" shoko asked yuki, as she puffs out a cigarette smoke, "I don't know!"

#haruchi-slit #jjk #jjk smut #haruchi slit #jjk headcanons #smut #jjk polls #jjk smau #jjk toji #toji x you #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk fic

165 notes · View notes

xtra7s · 10 months ago

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

pairing: Renee Rapp x reader

Synopsis: Renee Rapp finds herself being forced to co-write with her popstar enemy, Y/N YL/N.

content: none

word count: 2500+

masterlist

Sunlight, pale and watery, peeked through Renee's eyelids, coaxing them open. She groaned, squinting at the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam, momentarily lost before memory slammed back, a tidal wave of yesterday's chaos. The sold-out show, the encore that bled into the early hours, the post-show whirlwind of sweaty hugs and hoarse thank yous.

She sat up, wincing at the way her muscles protested, stretched languidly like a sun-drenched cat. Her apartment, usually alive with the echoes of guitar strings and her own humming, was blessedly quiet. She savored the stillness, reveling in the luxury of an unscheduled morning.

Coffee first, always coffee. Slipping into a faded black tee and ripped sweatpants, Renee padded into the kitchen, the familiar ritual grounding her. The hiss of the espresso machine, the frothy gurgle of milk, all a symphony of caffeine-fueled peace. She curled up on the window seat, mug cradled in her hands, watching the city wake up beneath a veil of mist.

The day unfurled with the lazy elegance of a catnap. She strummed aimlessly on her guitar, chords bleeding into each other like watercolor paints. A melody hummed beneath her breath, hesitant at first, then soaring with newfound confidence. Words followed, tumbling out like spilled secrets, raw and vulnerable. This one, she knew, wouldn't be for the stage. This one was for her, etched in the quiet of her living room, sunlight painting gold across her notebook pages.

Mid-verse, the phone buzzed, pulling her back from the daydream landscape. It was Adam, her manager, his voice a staccato counterpoint to the slow tempo of her morning. "Hey, sleepyhead. Get that caffeine flowing, you've got a meeting in an hour."

Renee blinked the edges of her daydream blurring. "A meeting? With who?"

"Surprise," Adam purred, a mischievous glint in his voice. "Just be at the office by noon, looking fierce. Trust me, this is good."

The call ended, leaving behind a delicious cocktail of curiosity and apprehension. Adam rarely sprung surprises, preferring the well-worn path of meticulous planning. A quick peek at her calendar confirmed the blankness of the day, a testament to his clandestine maneuver. Renee, intrigued, finished her coffee with newfound urgency.

A quick shower scrubbed away the remnants of sleep and yesterday's glitter. Jeans replaced sweatpants, and a vintage band tee swapped for a sleek silk cropped tank. She threw on a leather jacket, its worn patina contrasting the delicate silver chain around her neck. A flick of mascara, a touch of rouge, and voila, Renee was ready for whatever mystery Max had cooked up.

The subway ride was a whirlwind of crumpled newspapers and hurried goodbyes. The city buzzed outside the windows, a symphony of car horns and sirens that somehow managed to be lullaby familiar. Renee tapped her foot against the worn floor, an impatient rhythm against the steady rumble of the train.

Adam's office, on the top floor of a sleek glass tower, felt as controlled as its occupant. He sat behind a minimalist desk, a tablet gleaming like a black mirror in his hands. "Well, look who graced us with her presence," he drawled, a sharkish grin lighting up his face.

"Alright, spill it," Renee demanded, settling into the plush leather chair opposite him. She took off her jacket and rested it on the chair, "Who's the mystery meeting with?"

Adam smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Ready for the real kicker, Blondie?" He reached for his tablet, tapping the screen with a flourish. "Your writing partner for these demos? None other than the one and only..."

The name that flashed on the screen froze Renee's blood. Y/N YL/N. The girl who seemed to embody everything Renee wasn't – polished, perfect, and seemingly born with a platinum record tucked behind each earlobe.

Their paths had crossed a few times – an awkward introduction at an awards show, a tense exchange at a music industry party – and each encounter had felt like navigating a minefield. Y/N’s icy smile and razor-sharp wit felt like a personal affront, a constant reminder of everything Renee felt insecure about.

The news hit her like a rogue wave. Collaborating with Y/N? Writing songs together? It was like asking a firefly to tango with a scorpion. The very idea sent shivers down her spine, a delicious blend of dread and fascination.

"You're joking, right?" Renee's voice was a tight whisper, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Adam chuckled, but there was a glint of steel in his eyes. "Nope. Word on the street is that Y/N's been looking for a songwriting partner with some... grit. Apparently, her last collaborator couldn't handle the 'diva act.'" He raised an eyebrow, daring her to challenge him.

Renee squared her shoulders, a spark of defiance lighting in her eyes. "Challenge accepted," she declared, her voice steadier than she felt. "Let's see who the real diva is when we're both spitting shit in a recording booth."

The Hollywood dream suddenly felt a lot less glamorous and a lot more like stepping into a coliseum, armed only with a guitar and a stubborn sense of self. Writing songs with Y/N was going to be hell, but maybe, just maybe, it would also be the spark that ignited something extraordinary, both on the record and within herself.

As Adam slid a glass of champagne into her hand, the city lights outside the window seemed to wink, beckoning her towards a future both terrifying and thrilling. The Renee Rapp show was just getting started, and her first act was facing her demons, head-on and harmony-filled.

"Alright, Renee," he said, pushing himself up from his chair. "Y/N's on her way to the studio right now. Time to go meet your new best friend."

Renee swallowed hard, the champagne suddenly turning to vinegar in her stomach. "Right," she croaked, forcing a smile. "Studio. Collaboration. Teamwork."

Adam raised an eyebrow, his sharkish grin widening. "More like controlled chaos, but hey, that's where the magic happens, right?" He winked, then tossed her black leather jacket to her. "Go get 'em, tiger. Show her what Renee Rapp's made of."

The city stretched out before her, a concrete jungle pulsating with possibility and peril. Grabbing a taxi, Renee sped towards the studio, her thoughts churning like a washing machine on a spin cycle. Would Y/N be the ice queen she always appeared to be, or was there something more beneath the polished surface? Could they possibly navigate the choppy waters of songwriting together, or would their egos collide in a spectacular, public shipwreck?

The studio, nestled in the heart of Hollywood, hummed with creative energy. The air crackled with the sound of guitars being tuned, drumsticks tapping impatiently, and voices warming up scales. Renee took a deep breath, stepping into the dimly lit control room where Angela waited, her music producer, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"She's in booth two," she said, pointing towards a soundproofed glass box.

Renee nodded, her heart pounding a primal rhythm against her ribs. She pushed open the heavy door, stepping into the booth like a gladiator entering the arena. There, bathed in the soft glow of studio lights, sat Y/N YL/N.

For a moment, the world held its breath. The two rivals were locked in a silent standoff, their past encounters casting long shadows across the room. Then, a slow smile spread across Y/N's face, a smirk that was equal parts of challenge and intrigue.

"Renee Rapp," she drawled, her voice like honeyed poison. "Fancy seeing you here."

Renee met her gaze, her own smile steely and determined. "Yeah yeah, Y/N," she replied. "Let's get to work."

And so, the unlikely collaboration began. Two voices, so different yet somehow destined to intertwine, filled the studio with the raw energy of unspoken feelings and unbridled talent. The air crackled with tension, with unspoken words hanging heavy between them. Yet, as their fingers danced across guitars and their voices blended in unexpected harmonies, a spark ignited.

It was a dance on the edge of a volcano, fueled by equal parts animosity and grudging respect. They challenged each other and pushed each other to their limits, their voices soaring and crashing like waves against the rocks.

Frustration hung heavy in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. Hours had bled by, filled with discarded melodies and half-written verses, with the tantalizing promise of a song just out of reach. Renee strummed her guitar listlessly, the chords echoing the emptiness in her mind.

Y/N sat across from her, perched on a stool, her usually immaculate hair mussed, dark circles smudging the corners of her eyes. The polished veneer of her persona had peeled away, revealing the vulnerability beneath. For the first time, Renee saw her not as a rival, but as another artist struggling with the same demons.

A sudden change in Renee's strumming caught Y/N's attention. Her head snapped up, eyes locking with Renee's, who seemed unaware of the shift. Her fingers danced across the strings, weaving a melody that was both raw and captivating. Renee's lips moved silently, forming words that hung in the air like wisps of smoke.

"You say that I'm your favorite," she hummed, her voice low and husky, "With your hand between my thighs."

Y/N's breath hitched, a shiver dancing down her spine. The lyrics, raw and unapologetic, cut through the tension like a knife. This wasn't the sugary pop Y/N was known for; this was something darker, something more real.

Renee's eyes fluttered open, meeting Y/N's gaze with a newfound intensity. The air crackled with electricity, a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

"Tell me if you were gonna," Renee continued, her voice gaining strength, "That I would be the one you tried."

Y/N watched, hypnotized, as Renee mumbled a few more lyrics before shaking her head. The raw lyrics, sung with smoky confidence, peeled back layer after layer of the facade Renee typically projected. Y/N noticed things she'd never observed before - the flecks of gold in Renee's blue eyes that sparked with each line, the way her nose crinkled adorably when she concentrated, and the subtle curve of her jaw that spoke of hidden strength.

The song, a shared confession, had cracked open Y/N's carefully constructed shell, revealing a tangle of emotions she'd kept buried for years. Her gaze traced the line of Renee's neck, the pulse fluttering beneath the delicate skin, and a shiver ran down Y/N's spine.

The air crackled with a charged silence. Y/N's walls, once brick and mortar, were now mere cobblestones, tumbling into disarray. She met Renee's eyes, her own unguarded and vulnerable, a stark contrast to the icy color they usually held.

"That..." Y/N's voice was a mere whisper, "That was something else, Renee."

Renee, sensing the shift, offered a tentative smile. "It was," she agreed, her voice husky.

There, in the dimly lit studio, their rivalry seemed to melt away, replaced by a fragile understanding, a whispered promise of shared vulnerability. They stepped out into the dawn, the first rays of sunlight painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. It was a new beginning, a blank canvas upon which they could paint a masterpiece of collaboration.

But as they left the studio and the magic of the music faded, Y/N's walls began to rebuild, brick by metaphorical brick. The vulnerability

evaporated, replaced by the familiar mask of cold detachment. Her back straightened, her gaze sharpened, and a familiar smirk played on her lips.

"Alright, Renee," she drawled, her voice tinged with her usual icy edge. "Hit me up tomorrow, I'll come over and we can continue writing."

Renee blinked, startled by the sharp shift. She nodded as the warmth of their shared moment had dissolved, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste. But something had changed. Renee saw a flicker of the woman beneath the ice queen, a glimpse of the vulnerability Y/N had so briefly unveiled.

The game had changed, indeed. Renee knew the road ahead would be paved with challenges, with Y/N's barbed wit and ruthless ambition a constant obstacle. But she also knew that, hidden beneath the layers of frost, there was a fire in Y/N that could be kindled. The melody they had forged together, raw and honest, was proof. And that, in itself, was a victory.

The rivalry was far from over, but now, it danced with a hint of something else, something unspoken and intriguing. Renee met Y/N's gaze, a new challenge glinting in her own eyes.

Renee stumbled out of the studio, eyelids drooping and nerves buzzing. Sleep, usually a welcome sanctuary, seemed elusive tonight. The image of Y/N's walls rebuilding, brick by icy brick, replayed in her mind, a discordant note against the echo of their raw collaboration.

She drifted into her apartment, the silence pressing against her like a suffocating wave. The ukulele leaned against the wall, untouched, yearning for the warmth of her fingers. Instead, she gravitated towards her trusty guitar, its familiar weight grounding her in the chaos of her emotions.

Her fingers danced across the strings, returning to the notes she played in the studio, a way to translate the tangled mess in her head. The chords came hesitantly at first, a tentative whisper, then gathering momentum like a gathering storm. Her voice, raw and unfiltered, filled the quiet room, weaving a tapestry of unspoken desires and lingering questions.

"In the PM, all the pretty girls," she crooned, "They have a couple drinks, all the pretty girls."

The lyric hung in the air, heavy with both longing and self-awareness. Was it her own reflection she saw in those words, the girl in the mirror seeking solace in the fleeting comfort of company? Or was it Y/N, a glimpse beneath the polished surface, a yearning for something just beyond her reach?

"So now, they wanna kiss all the pretty girls," Renee continued, her voice gaining strength, "They got to have a taste of a pretty girl."

The melody soared, achingly beautiful, and laced with a bittersweet truth. The game they played, the unspoken tension between them, was it just a desperate grasp for connection in a world of curated personas? Or was there something more, something simmering beneath the veneer of rivalry?

She strummed the final chord, letting the silence settle like a soft snowfall. The lyrics etched onto the page in messy scrawl, seemed to hold the answer to a question she hadn't even dared to ask. Tonight, the lines between artist and subject had blurred, Renee revealing not just melodies but a sliver of her own soul.

With a heavy sigh, she slipped into bed, the image of Y/N's eyes, both guarded and curious, dancing behind her eyelids. Sleep, at last, brought its welcome embrace, but within its depths, another song was stirring, waiting to be born. In the morning, with the city streets shimmering beneath the sunrise, Renee knew the game had just begun.

The melodies they created, confessions hidden in plain sight, would be their currency, their battle cries, their whispered promises. Whether it led to harmony or heartbreak, one thing was certain: the world they were about to create, together, would be unlike anything anyone had ever heard.

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #lesbian #wlw #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #lgbtq #mean girls

398 notes · View notes