#should i have made him uglier?

[imaweirdnugget]

Such a familiar situation.

This is for the Harry/Klassje swap au by @theinkyfrog check it out I think its so interesting with the parallels they do have.

Is the hanged man still Lely or is it someone else? I do like the idea Kim being in Ruby's place. What about Jean? How would he play in this? If at all? THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS. awesome au concept!!!

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (III)

A whole lot of confusion as to whether Reader and her yakuza friend are actually dating. After much back and forth and a coworker being threatened, the awaited confession might finally take place.

Bonus part: Kazuya tells Reader about his and Daitou's past and how they ended up working for the yakuza.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence

Tags: @vinivave @ansy-tea @evvie8 @angelicbunnee @jingerbreadoutofstock @azukoya @randomlyblues @alien-consummation @neverlandlostchild @mimiemie @toji-whore @cloudie-skay @lilkittenmitten

[Part 2] | [Part 4] | [Yakuza Masterlist]

The items are scanned and Kazuya finishes paying. He looks back, searching for Daitou, and finds him wandering among the narrow aisles of magazines and manga. They'd stopped by the konbini at the train station after their job.

"Here's your bentou." The blonde man extends a small box, eyeing his friend suspiciously. "Say, do you have an upset stomach or something? You're uglier than usual." 

Daitou thanks him with a nod, but doesn't take the neatly packaged food. He's idly playing with the cover of a romance volume, bending and straightening its corner.

"Nah, nothing like that. Just, ya know, feels a bit like (Y/N)'s been avoiding me. She hurries straight home after work and barely waves hi. I thought we'd do more things together now that we're dating."

Kazuya nearly spits out the soda he opened while listening to Daitou's troubles. He snorts and quickly wipes his mouth. 

"Wait, are you serious? You actually asked her out? And she said yes??"

Daitou thinks back to the time he gifted you your stalker's finger and teeth, the way you defended him, and the way you quietly walked home and almost held hands. That pretty much made it official, didn't it? So he confidently nods to his utterly baffled partner in crime.

"You little rascal, you! Who would've thought you had it in you?!" He cheerfully slaps Daitou's back and wraps his arm around his neck. The dark haired man blushes and scratches his cheek awkwardly. "You should've told me earlier!"

True. Between the two of them, Kazuya has always been extremely charismatic and popular with women. His perfectly combed blonde hair, his sparkling designer suits, his luxuriously elegant cologne. The handsome features and assertive smile. More than once he'd been approached by modeling agencies, and he likes to joke his lust for violence stopped him from living the glamorous life. In comparison, Daitou has the opposite effect on people. The room will empty if he steps inside. He's unnervingly tall, with bulging muscles, has multiple scars crossing his face, and his prosthetic eye always ends up twisted in the strangest position, causing him to look like he's only missing the straight jacket. Everyone is shocked upon hearing about their friendship. 

So it makes sense that Kazuya would have the required experience to offer him decent advice when it comes to (Y/N).

"Listen here, if there's one thing you should know, it's that women like a guy that fights for them. You gotta show them you care. What can you offer that other guys can't?"

The tall man listens intently, with a concentrated frown as if taking mental notes. He's not entirely sure who he should fight in this ordeal, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of Kazuya, so he nods vehemently to his words.

"That's the short preview. If you have any more questions, just come over later. I'm piss tired, so I'll go home and have the nap of a lifetime." He yawns deeply to showcase his exhaustion and slowly walks away, throwing his hand in a lazy wave. 

The yakuza remains standing, still ruminating over the words of wisdom generously offered by the expert himself. Is he to randomly beat up people on the street as you watch? Won't Boss be angry if he attacks civilians? He gasps in realization. Perhaps this is what Kazuya meant. What kind of man is he if he can't even go against his Boss? So what if Boss won't like it? He has to prove himself to you. 

With newfound determination, he clenches his fists and gazes out of the window. 

That's when he notices you. You seem to be returning from work. Even more - and this causes his jaw to tighten in anger - some unknown man is walking next to you, cheerfully chitchatting and gesturing. 

That settles it. 

"You really didn't have to walk me home." You laugh clumsily to the man at your side.

A new coworker recently joined your company, and you've been asked to show him the ropes. You gradually discovered you had quite a lot in common, throughout your ample opportunities to gossip and talk leisurely. Your schedule isn't as packed nowadays, given you'll show up earlier and leave later.

Normally you'd prefer to be in your warm bed as soon as possible, but you've been feeling rather tense since the incident with Daitou. During his heated exchange with Kazuya, you've heard mentions of 'being liked by women' and 'having a crush on someone'. You thought it involved you and you nervously awaited further explanations from Daitou himself, but on the way back he was completely silent. You didn't have the courage to bring it up, so you assumed there must've been a misunderstanding somewhere along the way. 

Which, after all, would make plenty of sense. What business would a yakuza have with you? He's already shown much more courtesy than it was required of him. Hoping he'd also confess his feelings on top of everything was downright ridiculous and you're embarrassed to admit you'd harbored such cheesy fantasies to begin with. 

"Don't sweat it. You might not know", the coworker warns with lowered voice, "but this area is reeking of gangsters. I'm surprised you've been fine so far, but you should be more careful."

"O-oh...I see..." You glance at him and hold back a smirk. You doubt he could protect you from Daitou or Kazuya, but you appreciate his chivalry nonetheless. 

There's an uncomfortable pause as you stand in your doorframe, having reached the intended destination. The man hasn't left yet, waiting expectantly. He lowers his head towards yours and you swiftly slam the door, muttering something about an emergency. 

"Cute." He thinks to himself as he chuckles and steps away.

There's always a next time.

The coworker heads towards the train station in a relaxed strut. At the first intersection, however, he feels his clothes being pulled and he finds himself abruptly shoved in an empty room by an unknown assailant. 

Daitou easily lifts him up by his collar and nonchalantly throws him in a chair. It seems to be a small storage unit, possibly belonging to one of the shops. 

"What's your business with (Y/N)?" He barks.

"Huh? I should be the one asking-" The man pauses for a second, going over his conversations with you. "Could it be that you're the stalker she mentioned?"

Naturally, you had left out the part where your stalker was carefully packaged and dumped in a place unknown. To your coworker, he was very much still alive and a potential threat.

The yakuza is taken aback. 

"I'm her boyfriend!" He retorts angrily. 

"Bullshit. She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Another slap to the face. Daitou's cheeks are becoming increasingly red and he runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to calm down. Why, this son of a...

He marches to one of the metal shelves behind, grabbing his tool belt. Simultaneously, the door opens and Kazuya sheepishly peeks his head in. His blonde locks are ruffled and one can tell he's freshly woken up. 

"Yo, I just realized I might've been too metaphorical with you back at the store so I've been texting you, but you didn't-...Wait, why is there a guy handcuffed to the chair?"

He crosses his arms, with a habitual scolding glare towards his friend. 

"I just caught this cockroach flirting with (Y/N)! Went all the way to her place!" Daitou whines, his face full of indignation.

"Of course you know where she lives, you fucking stalker." The coworker exclaims bitterly. 

"Watch your mouth buddy, he ain't no stalker!" Kazuya straightens his back and approaches the mysterious man. "If he's right, and you've been messing with his woman...We ain't letting that go. Today you learn why no one fucks with the yakuza." 

The two men exchange a knowing look.

You drop yourself on the sofa and groan. Tomorrow will certainly be strange. Was the coworker trying to kiss you just now? You'll have to think of a polite way to turn him down next shift. Is it because you're not interested, or because you're still hoping to have a chance with Daitou? You slap your cheeks vigorously, trying to pull yourself out of such thoughts. 

You suddenly notice the foreign wallet sticking out of your bag. Your  coworker had dropped it earlier today while running for the train, and you offered to throw it in your bag to save time. Except you forgot to return it.

You check your phone. It hasn't been that long, so maybe you can still reach him if you hurry. Without much contemplation, you pluck the wallet and sprint out.

As you dash past the buildings, you have the idea of calling the man and asking him to wait instead. Why run like a madman? You stop and rest a hand against the wall, trying to catch your breath. Ugh, you've been so scattered today. This should've been the obvious choice, instead you sprang out. Silly. 

From around the corner you can make out the familiar wails you've learned to ignore. Whoever the yakuza tortures is not your problem. You are about to scurry away, yet something about these whimpers feels odd. No...Could it be?

You tiptoe down the vacant alleyway and try to catch a glimpse inside through the small, dirty window. As a matter of fact, it is your beloved coworker. Kazuya is holding his arm against a table, with the fingers forcefully fanned out, and Daitou has a blade secured over the pinky finger. 

You elbow yourself against the door in a theatrical entry. 

"What the hell are you guys doing?! That's my coworker!" You yell.

Daitou freezes, and Kazuya instantly releases his grasp. They turn to you, shocked.

"Stay out of it, (Y/N), this is to be settled among men. This bastard insulted your boyfriend, we can't let it slide!" Kazuya regains his composure and defends his cause fervently, pointing to the man that's now sobbing and crying uncontrollably. 

"Boyfriend?" You question, mouth agape. 

The blonde man stares at you. 

"You're...You're dating, aren't you?"

"Since when?" You demand, confused and upset.

Both you and Kazuya turn to Daitou for answers.

"I'm going to ask you one more time. Did you actually ask her out, Daitou? Did you say it out loud?" Kazuya's voice breaks in exasperation.

"W-well, I didn't...I didn't say it, but I thought..." the man's eyes dart between you and his friend. He gulps. "W-we almost held hands, didn't we?"

Overwhelmed with anger, the blonde stomps over to the shelves and kicks one to make his point, loudly bemoaning his friend's lack of social awareness. He can't believe he went along with his nonsense. Him, of all people! He should've anticipated it. 

As the coworker weeps and Kazuya continues his foul monologue, you can't help the blush that's now burning across your face. You fidget anxiously next to the tattooed man.

"Y-you thought we were dating?"

"Sorry for not making it clear." Daitou is once again twiddling with his prosthetic eye, dejected. "Is it too late to ask you out now? Because I do like you a lot..."

"Since you put it so nicely...I can't really say no~" Your ears are bright red and you're twirling your hair. Is it truly happening? Are you dreaming? Everything feels snug and fuzzy and the butterflies are swarming your stomach. 

You don't have time to enjoy your romantic encounter, as Kazuya is now behind you, clearing his throat.

"Alright, you lovebirds, what about this one here, then?" 

You suddenly remember your coworker and an icy cold flashes through your body. 

"Oh God, how will I explain this at work? I'll get fired!" You bite your nails in terror. You can already visualize the slip of unemployment. The long lines at the Job Center, you and the homeless. Panic begins to build up. 

Until Daitou's large hands rest on your shoulders. He's unexpectedly warm. 

"Don't worry about it, (Y/N). I'll have a word with Boss, and we can get you a job here. This way we can spend more time together", he suggests with childish enthusiasm. 

You glance up at him, moved by his soothing words.

"I wouldn't want to bother you like that."

"Hey, it's my fault you ended up in this situation. You can leave everything to me." He reassures you proudly.

"That didn't answer my damn question." Kazuya points out, annoyed.

"Can't we just kill him or something? He did call me a stalker, and I'm still upset about that..."

Daitou stretches and sighs in boredom, pondering the options. Once he's decided on the outcome, he shoos you away lovingly. You don't need to see this part. 

Bonus: Daitou's backstory 

"Oh, right, how did it go with your tickets?"

Kazuya is walking beside you, hands in pockets. Every now and then he removes the cigarette from his mouth to tap away the piling ash.

"Well, I still have both kidneys, but I won't be swimming in cash for the next months at least." You respond, slouching your shoulders dramatically for the effect. 

"Flying abroad is always expensive. Unless, I don't know, you book years in advance."

"Yeah. I should've looked earlier, but I wasn't sure about my work schedule. At least I get to see my family and friends for Christmas." 

After a few more steps in silence, you glance up at the blonde man. He notices your curious stare and raises his eyebrows, as if encouraging you to speak up. 

"What about you? Will you be going home for the holidays?"

He grins at your question and proudly places a hand on his chest.

"This is my home, actually! I was born and raised in this very neighborhood."

"Really? Was it not a yakuza quarter before?" Your eyes widen at his statement. 

"It was." Kazuya blows some of his smoke in your direction and you cough lightly. "You know the soapland further down the street?"

You nod.

"Mom used to work there. One of the clients got her pregnant and she found out too late. She had a room upstairs, and I just kind of tagged along. The other girls looked after me, too."

You recall one instance when Kazuya received a phone call about some drunkard causing a ruckus at the brothel, and he shot up without a word, rushed out and returned with bloodied knuckles. At the time, you'd assumed he's a client himself and maybe got attached to one of the girls. Now it makes sense. You're a little embarrassed of your obvious prejudice. If he grew up there, it must be his way of showing gratitude to the workers who loved him despite the circumstances. 

"Oh, what about Daitou, then? Is he from the area, too?"

The man frowns and purses his lips thoughtfully. After a moment, his features soften up again and he sighs.

"I suppose you're his girlfriend, after all. It's also not a secret per se..."

Your ears perk up at the strange reaction to your inquiry. 

"I mean, it's just a bit of a grim topic. No one knows for sure. Boss found him on the streets years ago, when he was a wee kid." 

He presses his thumb and index finger together, emphasizing the small size to you. 

"I don't know all the details, just what the Seniors told me - I was a kid myself back then - but it was pretty bad. Had no shoes on, scratches and cuts all over. His left eye was swollen and terribly infected, that's how he lost it, actually. Boss felt sorry for him, so he took him in.

They did try to ask him for parents or relatives, but apparently he wouldn't speak at all. Took him like a year to finally open his mouth. Even now, if you ask him anything about his past, he just pretends he didn't hear you. So maybe don't bring it up to him."

You shake your head along, urging him to continue with more details. Kazuya seems to warm up to the memories and slows down, indulging in the recollection. 

"Anyways, one day Boss' car is followed and he gets shot in the shoulder. Some snot-nosed trainees from the rival gang. They hadn't even gotten their pins yet, wanted to impress their older brothers I guess.

Daitou heard about it and went after them. One of our Seniors - he's a tough guy alright, been with the Family for decades - he told me he was sweating like mad when they found him. Daitou was just a teen at the time, but he butchered those guys up so bad they couldn't tell them apart anymore. Even bit a few bullets, and still kept going, like a crazed animal. The adults were freaking out. They didn't expect him to be this strong.

I suspect they were pretty afraid of him, you know? They were probably thinking, "if one day he has it out for us, we're done for!", so they told Boss they should kick him out. But at this point Daitou was like his own son, so he laughed and said, "What's the matter with ya, he does your dirty work and you wanna get rid of him?! If the boy wants to fight, let him!", and he arranged for Daitou to join the Family officially. I was recruited around the same time.

We didn't get along at first, I mean, they warned me to stay away because he's crazy and also Boss' favorite. He didn't hang out with anyone. He had his own jobs, the mercenary stuff no one else wanted to deal with.

You might not believe it, but back then I was an angry, stubborn asshole. It didn't sit well with me that this guy was out there, doing his own thing. I had a reputation myself, before I dropped out of high school I was pretty much undefeated. I thought I'd see it with my own eyes, this all-powerful jackass even the Seniors avoided."

You smile faintly, trying to imagine a young Kazuya without the expensive, flashy suit and polished appearance.

"So one evening I just walked up to him and told him to join me outside. Didn't even give him a speech, just rammed my fist into his face. This was my signature move, you know, I can't even count how many guys I knocked out with this punch. Straight into the jaw, sends your brain spinning. Whew, and this guy? He didn't even flinch! Just stood there and looked at me like I was dumb. I was pissed off at this point, you can imagine, it felt like he was mocking me. So I yelled we ain't done until one of us gives up. 

He understood what I wanted and finally fought me earnestly. Hell, he even knocked some of my teeth out. This one here's an implant. Mad expensive. Anyhow, as much as it hurt my pride, I'd lost fair and square. So I got up, wiped the blood, and asked him to come grab a drink with me. My treat. 

You should've seen his face, (Y/N). I think it was the first time I've witnessed him smile. 'Really? Can I? Are you sure?' He was like a stray dog after you've thrown him some leftovers. Kept that dumb grin the whole night. You could've given him a clown hat and people would've paid to see the circus. 

That's when I realized this poor bastard probably just wanted a friend. The next day I went to pick him up again and he was beaming like a princess. Heh. Afterwards he started following me around and eventually Boss called me in. I thought I got into trouble or something, even brought a bunch of gauze pads in case I needed to slice off my finger. Turns out he'd heard of us becoming pals, and he asked me to maybe attend Daitou every now and then because he always leaves a mess and everyone's too scared to deal with him. We've been teamed together ever since."

You realize you've been standing in the same spot ever since Kazuya begun talking, completely entranced by his story. He chuckles upon seeing your expression and ruffles your hair. 

"Man, I sure rambled a lot. Sorry about that. In any case, that was my piece about Daitou. I'm sure you already know this, but he's not a bad guy. Just has a twisted sense of loyalty. Once he finds someone to serve, he doesn't see anything else.

Hell, I'm his closest friend and I'm convinced he wouldn't hesitate to kill me if it was for Boss."

Upon further consideration, he smiles and winks at you.

"Or for you. Especially you."

[unclewaynemunson]

Pt1 | Pt2 | this one is the last part!

After Steve has dropped Nancy off at her house – and Nancy has talked some courage into him – he drives to the uglier part of town, over Cornwallis and then into Forest Hills. He can only hope Eddie is home. If not, he'll try Jeff's house, and then Freak's or Gareth's. He had to promise Nancy he'll keep searching even if it has him ending up at Reefer Rick's boathouse again.

Luckily, no such search actions seem necessary when he gets to the trailer park: as soon as Steve opens his car door, he can hear loud music emerging from inside the Munsons' trailer. Even though it isn't exactly Eddie's usual taste, something tells Steve that Wayne definitely isn't the one who put this one on.

Should have known better than to cheat a friend And waste a chance that I've been given So I'm never gonna dance again The way I danced with you

He knocks on the door, but is not surprised when no one inside seems to hear him, so he pushes it open to let himself in instead.

He finds Eddie sprawled out on the floor in front of the old boombox. His eyes are closed, but even from Steve's place in the doorway he can see how swollen and red the skin underneath them is. His hair is spread out around his head on the floor like a dark halo, and his fingers are restlessly tapping on his own arm to the melody of the saxophone solo.

Steve finds himself frozen in the doorway, captivated by simply watching Eddie lying there in his own bubble while the music slowly fades out. Despite the sadness radiating off him, there's something weirdly beautiful about it, and Steve can't look away, can't move, can't make a sound.

Then, Eddie suddenly sits up; his index finger is already stretched out towards the rewind button when Steve clears his throat to make his presence known. Eddie whips his head towards him with a startled sound.

'Jesus Christ, what the hell?!' he yells out. 'How long have you been standing there? No, you know what, don't answer that, just get the hell out!'

'Eddie, I-'

'I don't wanna hear any of it, man! I thought – no, I'm not talking to you. Fuck you.' Steve knows it's supposed to sound angry, but Eddie's voice starts wobbling dangerously towards the end of his sentence.

'Eddie, please just hear me out,' Steve says, stepping further into the trailer. The end of Careless whisper has left a deafening silence in its wake. He half expects Eddie to cover his ears and start singing loudly, but he's only met with a teary-eyed death stare and crossed arms.

'I'm not seeing any girl, Dustin got it all wrong,' he starts to explain. 'I wanted to tell him who I was really seeing, but I couldn't - not without your permission - so I told him I was seeing someone. Meaning you. I haven't been seeing anyone ever since that first time we kissed. I didn't need to. I've only been thinking about you.' He pauses. It's scary, to let himself be vulnerable like this while Eddie is still looking at him like he despises him. But he takes a deep breath and pushes himself to say it all.

'I don't want to see anyone, boy or girl, ever again, as long as I can have you, Eddie. I promise. I've been falling for months, but I didn't wanna scare you off with any labels you might not want for us – but you're it for me, Eddie, one hundred percent. I never meant to hurt you like this. It's all a big misunderstanding; there's no one else for me.'

Eddie is still sitting on the floor, looking up at Steve with wide, teary eyes. Something in his face has slowly shifted while Steve was talking; the harsh lines around his mouth have turned softer and the betrayal in his eyes has made way for something Steve can only hope to be good.

'You wanted to tell Dustin about us?' is all Eddie says, his voice croaky.

Steve takes another step towards Eddie, then crouches down to the ground until he's sitting right next to him on the worn carpet.

'I mean, I know I don't wanna hide what I'm feeling for you. Especially not when people are thinking I'm going out with some girl when all I want is to be with you.' He reaches out to grab Eddie's hands in his own. 'So yeah, I think I wanna tell Dustin. And everyone else, basically. That is, if we're on the same page about what we are.'

Eddie frees one of his hands from Steve's grip to wipe it over his eyes. His palm is wet when his hand finds Steve's again.

'What about boyfriends?' he says, a hesitant smile creeping onto his face.

Steve squeezes his hands, unable to stop a matching smile of his own appearing. To hear that word falling from Eddie's mouth... He had expected it to feel good, of course, but he had never anticipated it to feel like this: like the whole world suddenly makes sense again.

'Yeah, I can do boyfriends,' he answers, his voice breathy with the multitude of emotions bubbling up inside of him. 'That sounds – sounds good. Great. Perfect.'

Eddie surges forward to catch him in a kiss that's a bit wetter than Steve is used to. Steve happily kisses him back, though, and he can barely suppress a shiver when one of Eddie's hands makes its way upwards over Steve's back and into the hair in his neck. There's a softness to his touch that easily drives Steve crazy with relief.

When they pull back, both of them are smiling dumbly and breathing heavily.

'I'm sorry I had so little trust in you,' Eddie tells him.

'That's okay, I understand,' Steve is quick to answer. 'As long as you leave listening to George Michael to me again from now on.'

Eddie makes a face, causing a big frown to appear between his eyebrows, along with all kinds of wrinkles around his nose.

'God, I can't believe you witnessed that and still wanted to be my boyfriend,' he says, adding an exaggerated shudder for extra dramatics.

Steve clenches his arms tighter around Eddie. 'You won't scare me off that easily,' he murmurs. 'It was kind of adorable.'

'It was pathetic.'

'Yeah, a little bit. But in an adorable way.'

Eddie rolls his eyes. 'You're an idiot, Steve Harrington,' he says. 'But... In an adorable way.'

Taglist: @withacapitalp @ultimatedreamer104 @irregular-child @jcmadgirl @estrellami-1 @myguiltyartpleasure @hallucinatedjosten @jaybren @thew1ldblueyonder @melodymeddler @alycatavatar @zoeweee @lolawonsstuff @fairy-princette @saramelaniemoon @phirex22 @krazyperson @xxsky-shockxx @candlecatsblog @goodolefashionedloverboi @jojobeaner @pinkdaisies1998 @giverobinagfbrigade @therealscarletpumpernickel @darkwithcoferie @duraffinity @lyriclight @almondflavoredbookworm @kingelyx @vampire-eddie-brain-rot @m-owo-n @altermagic @sirsnacksalot @littlebookworm86 @platinum-sunset @chaosgremlinmunson @morganski-19 @cam-cat-writer @slime-hoe @bat-outta-hel @justsearchingformystory @notfromtwitter @ashwinmeird @marklee-blackmore @warlordess @breealtair @pansexualhousecat @louwilsonscreamingpapa @inikokoru (more tags in the replies bc tumblr is being a dick again)

[peterm4rker]

(❆⋆.˚) the stich that stole christmas !

🕸🕷✮⋆ [haechan x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.2k w. cursing, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

christmas with donghyuck was always an adventure and a half.

there was always something for him to do, an occurrence to make your supposedly peaceful winter time into the most chaotic time possible. one year it was baking cookies for your entire friend group, another volunteering at the most hectic shelter he could find. this year, he had decided it was appropriate to engage in an ugly sweater competition.

“you’re going down” he snickered, poking at your cheek with a smug expression as you made your way into your shared room “i’m going to have the ugliest sweater you’ve ever seen”

you rolled your eyes, hiding the humor that was laced on them “nu-uh, mine is going to be so much uglier” you stuck your tongue out at him.

“my sweater is going to be so ugly that you’re gonna cringe when you see it” he pressed, getting closer to you.

“i always cringe when i see you” you gave him a smug smile, chuckling at the way he pouted. you stole a quick kiss from his lips, attempting to kiss his pout away. “i’m just joking, baby”

“you hate me, just say that” he whined dramatically, grabbing your arms to throw them over his shoulders and let his weight fall on your body, pushing you to the bed. you let out a loud laugh as you hugged him tighter, nuzzling your nose to his hair.

“i don’t hate you, hyuck” you reassured, hand flying to his hair to brush your hair through it. 

“i don’t believe you,” your boyfriend answered, a pout evident in his voice.

“and what am i supposed to do to make you believe me?” your voice was laced with humour and fondness as your heart shrinked with love.

“let me win the sweater competition.” you could feel his smile on the skin of your neck, tickling you softly.

“absolutely not, but i can give you kisses” he lifted his face immediately from its hiding spot on the curve of your shoulder as he heard your words, puckering his lips and waiting for what you had promised.

you couldn’t help but giggle softly before peppering his face with pecks, ending it with some on his lips. being with donghyuk meant having to deal with his clinginess and his whiny nature, but you would be lying if you said they weren’t some of the many reasons why you had fallen in love with the brown haired boy.

…

“does it have a picture of chenle on it?” donghyuck asked curiously as he followed you around the kitchen. 

“of course not, why would it?” you snorted, continuing to move around the space as you prepared hot cocoa for both of you.

“well, he’s pretty ugly” he shrugged, looking at you with lovesick eyes, following your movements like a lost puppy.

“let’s not lie to each other” you chuckled, looking back at him and stealing a peck from his cheek before he began whining.

“then is it a picture of your family dog?” he asked, trying his hardest to not let his smile break through his lips.

“hey! he might not be beautiful but he's cuter than you” you stuck your tongue out at him, feigning offence as you took both of your mugs to leave them on the coffee table in front of your tv.

“i take offence to that, if i'm not cuter than that dog then maybe i should be the one put on that sweater” he made an exaggerated grimace.

“you’re so mean, he’s beautiful” you retorted, trying not to laugh at his funny remark while you climbed on the couch, covering yourself with the cozy blanket.

“you literally just said he’s not” donghyuck pressed, following you quickly and cuddling to your side.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about” you tried to ignore as you turned the tv on, looking for your favorite christmas movie.

“yeah, sure” he scoffed, rolling his eyes in feigned disbelief. he watched you for a couple seconds, knowing that he had a limited amount of time before your attention was taken by the tv. “i have a proposal” he heard you hum as you clicked into the movie, pausing it and looking back at him with a questioning look. “let’s have a prize for the winner, the boys can be the jury”

you thought about it for a second. with your friends as judges, you had a pretty big chance of winning. they loved annoying your boyfriend, anyways. “okay, and what’s the prize?”

the boy took a second to think, tapping his chin with the point of his finger as if he were in a movie. “loser has to wear a maid dress around the house for a whole week”

the seriousness in his voice and expression caused you to let out a groan combined with a laugh. what did you expect?

“if you’re fine with your friends seeing you in one of those when they come over like six days a week, sure” you retorted.

“i don’t care because i’m not going to be the one wearing it” he shrugged, a smug smile placed on his lips.

“oh, so you’re fine with them seeing me in it? i’m surprised you are, knowing all the things chenle has told us” you arched your brow at him, smiling at the sight of his smile falling immediately.

“you’re right, we have to think of something else” he nodded, making you chuckle softly. it didn’t register in your brain how you could be so endeared by such simple things, but you were with every single thing he ever did.

“what about loser pays for dinner?” you asked as you reached to brush a strand away from his eyes, your hand moving on its own looking to touch him some way. he instantly nuzzled his cheek to your hand, and you swore your heart melted right there and then.

“that’s boring” he pouted, looking at you through his eyelashes like he knew you loved “i will gladly pay for your dinner any time you want”

you smiled instinctively, leaning to peck his lips quickly. “okay then, the loser pays for dinner and has to wear the sweater out to whatever fancy restaurant we chose.”

he thought it over for a few seconds before finally nodding. “okay, deal” he smiled as he moved to envelop you in his arms, pulling you closer to him. “i hope you know that i’m going to try harder to win now, i won’t ruin my fashionista rep”

you snorted as you grabbed your mug from the table and moved to lay your head on his chest, taking the remote and pressing play. “you don’t have a fashionista rep” 

“shh, baby, the movie is starting” he shushed you, making a smile widen on your lips as you watched the title appear on the screen.

…

you sighed heavily as you opened the door to your apartment, wanting nothing but to jump into your boyfriend’s arms after a long day of responsibilities. as you closed the door behind you, your eyes searched for him, eyebrows furrowing together when you noticed he was nowhere to be seen. you checked your watch, he should’ve gotten home two hours ago. huh, weird.

“hyuck? i’m home” you called out, settling your things on the table and beginning to take off the many layers of clothing that covered your body from the cold weather of the outside world. your body jumped slightly as you heard a loud noise coming from your room, but you calmed down as you heard your boyfriend’s familiar voice exclaim a hushed “ouch, shit”

it didn’t take long for hyuck to come rushing into the room, running towards you and engulfing you in his arms to twirl you around. “hi, beautiful”

“hi, my love” you smiled and cupped his cheeks, pulling him into a short kiss. “what were you doing?”

his brown eyes widened like they only did when you had caught him red handed on something, blinking a couple of times before shaking his head “nothing, don’t worry your pretty little head about it”

you looked at him, squinting slightly as you tried to figure out what he was doing before he heard you come in. if he wasn’t terrified of what was to come next, he would have laughed at your face and how you made that exact one when you couldn’t read something that was a tiny bit too far away.

his eyes searched yours nervously until a loud gasp erupted from your lips, your hand flying to point at him. “you were looking for my sweater!” you accused.

shit.

“no i wasn’t!” he tried to defend himself, hands flying up to his sides as if they were to prove his innocence.

“yes you were! you dirty cheater” you exclaimed, your finger poking his chest accusingly. “i cannot believe you”

“oh, stop being so dramatic! i didn’t even find it” he rolled his eyes, a fake pout finding its way onto his lips.

“so you were looking for it” you glared at him, and he sighed heavily.

“maybe, but i didn’t find it so it literally doesn’t matter.” he watched as you opened your mouth to retort, but he was quicker. “now, stop complaining and let's go take a warm shower together.”

maybe you would tell him no if you weren’t about to freeze to death before, but you were… and he was offering… and well, you wouldn’t have ever refused, really.

“let’s go, but know that i’m relocating the sweater” you walked away, aiming for the bathroom.

“i looked everywhere, no way it’s here” he spoke, following after you like he always did.

“i guess we’ll never know”

… 

the day had finally come. the majority of your friends were sprawled around you and donghyuck’s living room, except for mark, who jaemin had said had a prior engagement to attend to. you decided to ignore the fact that he had been missing many of the group activities since december had started, you would pry it out of him later.

“okay, i think it’s time,” donghyuck spoke, interrupting the ongoing conversation as he looked at you. you nodded at him, standing up from your place on the floor and looking for renjun’s eyes to send him a signal. he nodded as well and stood up as you and hyuck disappeared into separate rooms of your house, leaving the rest of your friends confused.

renjun handed them each clipboards and a marker before standing on the entrance to the living room “gentleman, today is the day” he started off dramatically “today, the fate of a dinner and hyuck’s nonexistent fashionista rep is on your hands” his words made everything make sense, and the rest of the boys straightened on their seats to play along. “the two participants will come in with eyes closed, as they are not allowed to look at each other until the judges have made a decision.” he continued, raising his voice so you would both hear him. “without further ado, participants, come in”

you thanked the universe for choosing your house to host the event as you walked into the room with your eyes closed, trying your hardest to remember where everything was placed. you could feel hyuck standing next to you as you reached what you thought was the middle of the room.

“you’re soo losing” your boyfriend whispered next to you in a sing-song voice.

“never, fashionista.” you stuck your tongue at him even though he couldn’t see you, a smile replacing the gesture as you credited your banter for the muffled laughter that came from your friends.

“okay, the judges have made a decision,” renjun spoke, a smile evident in his voice. “make sure to look at them before you look at each other please, now open your eyes in three… two.. one”

you opened your eyes and were immediately faced with confusion as each of them held a word to form the phrase “you are so stupid”. your eyes instinctively switched to your boyfriend, trying to see if he was equally as confused.

“oh, you’re fucking kidding me!” you exclaimed as you finally looked at him, seeing nothing else but the fact that he was wearing the same exact sweater as you.

the boys exploited in loud laughter as you stared at each other in disbelief for a few seconds before he groaned dramatically and you prepared for the tantrum he was about to throw.

…

“well, it wasn’t that bad at the end of the day” you broke the silence as you finished the bite of food you were eating. 

“yeah, i guess it wasn't,” donghyuck smiled, the dim lighting of the restaurant reflecting on his honey coloured skin, making him even more majestic than he normally would even if he was wearing the ugliest sweater you both could find.

★ blue's corner ;; heyyyyyyy. i hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it ! i've been feeling really fluffy for hyuck and i think its showing a lot but idc bc he deserves it. this is for my wife, my everything, my one and only @lyvhie and also part of the love actually series that i'm doing with both of my blogs ! ★ taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @morkiee ★ back to the masterlist. ★ please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!! ★ divider by @fairytopea

© peterm4rker, 2024

[ginkgo-phyta]

Hotch would definitely give you the princess treatment, and you know what? Jack would too, after seeing his father he knows how to treat a girl right. And the team would definitely tease Hotch, because his son is going to steal his partner from him :)

omg no LITERALLYYY tho like just like omfg alright i got carried away with this and its not even really what you're talking about but listen to me okay LISTENNNNN

tagged spencer reid x reader because i want more people to see this teehee pls dont hate me i have spencer fics yall should read if you havent already but also you should still read this too

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH AARON HOTCHNER AND ITS INFLUENCE ON HIS SON JACK gn!reader, FLUFF, no warnings(?) another informal blurb typa format :P

you and hotch decide together you'd like to date for a while first, take things slower and fully solidify and strengthen your relationship, before you become a part of jack's life. you didn't want jack to get attached to you or write you off too quickly in case life took you in different directions. you didn't know it at the time, but hotch introduced you to jack when he was sure he was going to marry you some day- and soon. he had been so incredibly head over heels in love with you and once you and jack got close, the little guy really got to witness how highly his father regarded you- and just how he showed you it every day. even in the little things. from the way hotch pulled out your chair, held all doors open for you, always kept your favorite drinks and snacks stocked up in the fridge and pantry, never let you open your own car door, the way he made spaces for you in his bathroom and closet without even being asked, and how he always stuck to your weekly dinner date- whether in person or over the phone. to the way his father would look at you, listen intently to whatever you were talking or ranting about, how he'd cup your hands and press quick kisses to them or move any bothersome strands of hair from your face when you'd eat, and how enthusiastic he always was when you and jack would spend time together.

jack was a bit hesitant with you at first, he was a bit older at that point and the quickness with which beth had left his life had admittedly stung him, leaving an ever-present welt behind. but he warmed up to you, appreciative of the way you welcomed him with open arms, never pressured him to spend time with or even like you (letting him accept you at his own pace) and how you clearly were not trying to take the place of his late mother- even many, many years into your relationship with his father. what he loved the most was how you always encouraged hotch to recount stories of haley, put pictures of her in jack's room or wherever else he wanted them, and how you would remind him: "your mother would be so proud of you jack." you would watch old home videos of their old family and jack never failed to notice how you wouldn't ever feel negatively about it. that was really what won him over. he also loved how open you were with both him and his dad- every day you'd say "i love you!" both casually and purposefully. it instilled in the young boy the importance of expressing appreciation, love, and care for others.

before you, hotch was always a just bit emotionally closed off. even when it came to jack he liked to keep himself a bit more reserved. he tried to stay a strong and unwavering inspiration, only wanting to show his son his best face. but once you came into their lives you inspired hotch to open up more than he had the last few years after haley's passing, inspired him to embrace even the "uglier" emotions he felt in life: grief, anger, sadness, and tiredness. it ended up passing onto jack in small ways, allowing him to feel even closer to dad. you became a huge structural post in jack's life. your love for one other inspired him, as he grew up he dreamed of one day having a relationship like yours. he looked forward to being able to treat his significant other the way his father cares for you.

you loved jack as if he was your own, though you never wanted to say that to him for fear of overstepping your role. aaron would always assure you, especially as jack grew older, that his boy felt it. you watched him go from a playful child, to a moody teenager, to a budding adult eager to make his mark on the world. and you were there supporting him the whole way.

you'll spend a lifetime with the both of them and although there will be many funny, loving, or frustrating moments you'll hold in a special place in your mind, there's one memory from when he was still a youngin that you love the most. it was a surprise dinner party at your fancy restaurant, aaron had booked the whole place just for you and the guests to celebrate your engagement and he had enlisted jack's help to plan the whole thing. jack, the bau team, and your friends and family were all there to shower you in love. the most memorable part of the night was the moment everyone sat down for dinner, all around a giant table (possibly multiple tables pushed together). as everyone moved to take their place jack ran so eagerly in front of you to pull your chair out before his father got the chance. you were shocked for a second before bursting out in a melodious laugh- it was so unexpected but you were incredibly moved. "oh, jack, thank you!" your loving, excited, and genuinely appreciative tone made jack's already huge grin grow even wider and more endearing. everyone else had noticed this too and laughed in joy along with you. "oh my god!" "that was so freakin cute" "he did not just do that!" rang out around you. of course aaron noticed, standing in silence for a second, a similar smile mirrored on his face, before he shook his head with a chuckle. as you took you seat, jack made sure to push your chair in just before you sat down fully, diligently executing what he'd studied his father do hundreds of times before. you turned to thank him, but before you could even open your mouth jack moved to take your cloth napkin from the table, shake it open, and carefully place it in your lap. awwws flooded in from all sides of the table

"oh you are just so adorable jack, thank you so much." you said as you pinched his still slightly chubby cheek "you are just the kindest, sir." you playful tone cause jacks entire face to blush and he shyly walked over to take a seat next to you.

"what? you take my job, and now you don't even want to sit next to me?" hotch spoke up from you other side. jack knew his father was joking, but he still bashfully giggled, sinking a bit more into his seat

"you better be careful, hotch," derek spoke up from across the table, motioning to his former boss with a breadstick, "looks like you got some competition there."

everyone broke out into more laughter, especially aaron. in the midst of the hysterics, the once-stoic man's hand crept into your lap to hold your own, thumbing over the back of your hand and the beautiful engagement ring wrapped around your finger. you shared a glance while you both laughed before you looked over to jack. wordlessly, your hand suddenly hopped up to ruffle up the little boy's hair, causing him to scrunch up his nose and giggle even more.

but you didn't have to say anything, your eyes held the truth. love. jack continued to look up at you, feelings of warmth, joy, and safety draped over him like a fuzzy throw, covering him from the crown of his head to the tips of his fingers and toes. he knew that with you in his life now, besides him and his father, everything would be okay.

A/N: SCREAMING how was this anon? sorry i didn't delve into the team teasing hotch more bc these thoughts were swimming in my head and i NEEDED to get them down perhaps i could do another post of just teasing quotes if that's something you'd like! i got a few ideas swimmin already teehee i hope you enjoyed my love!!

[justmeinadaze]

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

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

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

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

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

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

Word Count: 8679

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir. Y/N Y/L/N.”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Giggling, you gesture towards your Walkman. 

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck me he’s big. 

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

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

“Fuck, Steve. That’s it, baby.”

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

“H-Harder, Steve, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That caught your attention as your head swiveled her way. 

“I’m doing what now?”

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

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

“Yeah…does that make you uncomfortable?”

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

“What? No. I would never—”

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

“Nothing. I don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that my favorite piggy?”

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

“Don’t touch me.”, you hiss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“WHAT?!”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“You ok, babe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What could he have meant by that…

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

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

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

What must have happened to bring them together?

“Steven, you need to calm down.”

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

“Fucking asshole kid, I swear to God.”

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

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

“Why then?”

“She…she seems like a nice girl.”

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

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

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

“Like that’s ever stopped you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

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

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

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

They both glance at each other as you blush. 

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

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

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

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

Your silence makes them nervous and they exchange another look. 

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Edward…”

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

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

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

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

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

“He said show me respect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or…

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

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

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

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

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

“Did you see our cocks?”

“Yes.”

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

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

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

“I’m sorry, Mr. Harrington.”

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

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

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

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

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

He chuckled as he focused his attention back on you. 

“Do you feel vulnerable, Y/N?”

“Yes, sir.”

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

“I-I-I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Our?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir, Mr. Munson. “

“Good. Good girl.”

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

“Can I kiss you?”

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

“Yes and no.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Watch your mouth, little girl.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sensitive. I like that.”

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

“Shit. I don’t have any condoms.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-Yes, sir. I’m—”

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

“We know. You’re sorry.”

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

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

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

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

“What do you want, Ed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m…I’m…please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Green.”

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

“Green, what?”

“Green, SIR!”

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

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

“Green, Mr. Harrington.”

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

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

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

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

“F-Feels…feels good…now. Fuck.”

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

“Still green, babe?”

“Yeeeees, sir.”

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

“Oh my god!”

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

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

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

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

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

“H-Harder, Mr. Harrington, please.”

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

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

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

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

“For me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know. I’m almost done.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess we can sleep in the—”

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

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

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

“You’re worried.”

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

“That sounds delicious.”

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

“10 years. Not much.”

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

“So do you, honey.”

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

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

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

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

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

@corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @nailbatanddungeon

[baekhyunsbestie]

i luv your girl

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 18+/MDNI | pervy!baekhyun x f!reader, bf!jongin x gf!reader ꒱ ˎˊ˗

⤷ 1.4k+ words of baekhyun being a sick freak. another req by my freaky lil brain. baekhyun + jongin are roommates/bff’s. you’re jongin’s beloved gf and baekhyun’s obsessed with you to say the least. explicit language. unreliable narration. dark themes. obsession. possessiveness. jealousy. entitlement. yandere. smut. m*sturbation. voyeurism. somnophilia. infidelity. p in v. squirting.

byun baekhyun is an absolute fucking disgrace of a friend.

he should have turned away the second he saw you, should have strangled the hunger in its crib before it ever had the chance to sink its teeth into him. but you smiled—at him—like he was something more than the filth rotting inside his soul, like he wasn’t a rabid, depraved thing barely shackled to reason. and that was it. that was the moment everything went to hell.

because even when you started dating kim jongin, even when you stood by his best friend's side, even when you looked at someone else like they hung the fucking stars—his obsession didn’t die. no. it mutated. twisted into something uglier, something rotten and all-consuming, something that left his hands trembling and his lungs struggling to drag in air. he tried to smother it, bury it beneath layers of forced indifference, but it only dug itself in deeper, black and festering, eating him alive from the inside out.

he needs you.

and no matter how much you run, no matter how much you pretend he isn’t watching, waiting, burning—he will have you.

now he sits on the cold floor, back pressed against the thin wall that does nothing to keep out the filthy, sinful sounds slipping past your lips. you’re on the other side, riding jongin into the mattress, hips rolling like you were made for this, voice cracking as pleasure drips from you, and baekhyun is unraveling, losing his fucking mind.

his fingers are wrapped around his cock, pumping with a desperation so feral it’s almost painful. his pace is erratic, brutal, like he’s trying to match the rhythm of your hips, like he can pretend—just for a second—that it’s him you're bouncing on, that it’s him dragging those sweet, broken moans from your throat. he bites down on his shirt, tries to keep quiet, but the choked whimpers still claw their way out, raw and wrecked. his hips jolt up into his own grip, chasing the friction like an animal in heat, cock flushed red and angry, leaking down his knuckles in thick, needy strands. he’s so fucking close, but it’s not enough—it will never be enough.

he shouldn’t be doing this. shouldn’t be here. but he is. and it doesn’t fucking matter. nothing fucking matters except you. you and the sounds you make, the way you move, the way you moan a name that isn’t his.

he can hear you. every filthy, wet sound your cunt makes as it sucks jongin in, clenching like you never want to let him go. the slick, obscene squelch of every thrust, the desperate tangle of tongues in messy, open-mouthed kisses. he can see it—can feel it, like he’s the one inside you, fucking you senseless.

his hand is merciless, stroking himself rough and fast, squeezing tight like he’s trying to wring every drop of need from his aching cock. his breath stutters, breaks apart into ragged pants, his grip turning brutal, knuckles whitening. his tip is flushed an angry red, swollen and drooling pearly white precum, thick and sticky between his fingers. his thighs quake, abs tensing as sharp, searing pleasure coils in his gut, a hunger so violent it threatens to consume him whole.

he’d fuck you better. he knows he would. he’d stretch you open all pretty on his thick cock, fill you so full you’d forget how to take anyone else. he’d wreck you, make you beg, make you sob so fucking sweetly for him that you’d never even think about letting another man touch you again. you’re his—his—and he’ll carve it into your body, your soul, until you have no choice but to understand.

baekhyun’s grip tightens, knuckles paling as his fist moves in a brutal, unrelenting rhythm. his breath is ragged, lips parted in a desperate gasp, eyes shut tightly as he imagines the obscene scene in his head—you. trembling, shattered, drowning in pleasure that isn’t his to give.

his vision blurs as jongin growls it— “cum for me, my pretty girl.”

and then it happens. that beautiful, devastating sound spilling from your pretty lips.

your choked sob, broken and raw, a symphony of ruin as you gush around jongin’s cock. the slick, sinful noise is deafening, searing into baekhyun’s brain like a brand, like an oath. he hears everything—the creak of the mattress, the desperate, erratic slap of skin against skin, the way your weight shifts as you ride him through it.

but worst of all, he hears jongin’s voice.

“yeah, that’s it, baby,” jongin groans, breathless, wrecked, voice thick with pride and satisfaction. “fuck, you’re perfect—so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

rage coils tight around baekhyun’s ribs, white-hot and suffocating.

his breath hitches, his spine arching as his body betrays him, heat surging through him like wildfire. his cock twitches violently in his grip before thick, fevered ropes spill across his stomach, painting him in the evidence of his delirium. his whole body shudders, convulses, the pleasure already tainted—corrupted.

but then—jongin groans.

baekhyun knows exactly what’s happening. he doesn’t need to see it to feel it. the deep, guttural sound rips through the air, punctuated by the desperate, erratic slap of skin against skin, the ragged gasp of his final thrust—as he empties himself inside you.

his jaw clenches so tight his teeth ache, his muscles locking as a sick, twisted revulsion coils deep in his gut.

jongin is still murmuring to you, voice dripping with satisfaction. “took me so well, baby. feel that? all mine.”

baekhyun feels sick. it should be him.

his cock buried inside you, dragging you down, forcing you to take every inch. his name falling from your lips in breathless, ruined sobs. his seed dripping from you, marking you, claiming you.

but if it were him—oh, if it were him—he wouldn’t coddle you.

he wouldn’t soothe you with soft praise and gentle words. he’d fucking ruin you.

“yeah, that’s right, sweetheart,” he’d rasp, his hand fisting in your hair, dragging your head back so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “look at you—fuckin’ made for me.”

he wouldn’t just let you take it—he’d make you feel it.

he’d slow you down when you try to move too fast, force you to take him properly, deep and unrelenting, until the stretch was too much and not enough all at once. he’d make you work for it, watch you tremble and sob as you begged for more, and only then—only when you were mindless, ruined, desperate— would he let you have it.

his grip would tighten. his voice would darken.

“show me how much you need me, baby. cry for me. that’s it—fuck, look at you. you can take more, can’t you?”

and when you came, when you shattered around him, he wouldn’t groan.

he’d laugh. low and breathless, pure possession dripping from every syllable as he hushed your sobs with kisses, his thrusts turning brutal as he chased his own high.

and when he spilled inside you—deep, endless, his claim undeniable— his voice would rasp against your sweat-slicked skin, sticky with satisfaction, dark with promise.

“mine. only mine.”

not jongin. never fucking jongin.

because jongin doesn’t love you like he does.

not the way he would—unconditionally, obsessively, entirely. jongin doesn’t worship you, doesn’t watch your every move and commit it to memory, doesn’t ache for you in the quiet hours of the night, doesn’t carve out pieces of his soul just to make room for more of you.

jongin doesn’t understand that you were meant to be loved the way baekhyun loves you.

because he knows—he knows that once you see it, once you understand how much better he could take care of you, how much deeper he could love you, you would never want anyone else. you wouldn’t just love him back—you would love him more than you ever thought possible, more than you ever loved anyone else.

and he would take care of you so well. he would worship you the way you deserve, keep you safe, keep you happy. keep you his.

you just had to see it.

and if baekhyun is anything, he is patient.

his fingers twitch around his softening cock, but the pleasure is long gone, replaced by something uglier. something that festers, that rots, that eats at him like an insatiable hunger. his nails curl into his palms, digging in deep enough to hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the agony burning through his chest.

his tongue swipes over his lips, the taste of obsession still thick on his tongue. his lashes flutter, his breath stalling—

one day.

one day, it won’t be jongin filling you up. it won’t be jongin making you fall apart.

it’ll be him.

only him.

[httpvomitello]

Could I ask for a George Weasley x reader where she's Sirius daughter and after he escapes some people think that she's helping him so George stands up for her and then they pull pranks together on those that were mean to her?

Hello, hello! Hope you like it ~ ♡

Loyalty *⁠.⁠✧

george weasley x f!reader

Summary: Being Sirius Black’s daughter came with its fair share of problems—especially after his escape from Azkaban. But when rumors spread that you were helping him, George Weasley is the first to stand up for you. And after that, well… revenge is best served with a prank or two.

You were used to the whispers.

Being Sirius Black’s daughter had always made you stand out at Hogwarts, even before he’d broken out of Azkaban. You’d learned to deal with the odd glances, the hushed voices when people thought you couldn’t hear them.

But after that night, when news spread that he had escaped, the whispers became something else. Something uglier.

"She’s probably in contact with him."

"Like father, like daughter."

"What if she’s a Death Eater too?"

The rumors spread fast, and soon, it wasn’t just whispers anymore. Students avoided you in the hallways. Some sneered openly. A few Slytherins even made a habit of bumping into you on purpose, as if daring you to fight back.

It stung. More than you wanted to admit.

But nothing compared to what happened in the Great Hall.

You had just sat down at the Gryffindor table, minding your own business, when a loud voice rang out.

"So, Y/N, when’s your dear old dad coming to break you out of here?"

Laughter erupted from a group of Slytherins, led by none other than Adrian Pucey. He smirked, leaning back in his seat as if he’d just said the funniest thing in the world.

Your hands clenched into fists, your face burning with anger. You knew engaging with them would only make things worse, but before you could even open your mouth, another voice cut in.

A familiar, furious voice.

"Oi, Pucey!"

George Weasley.

He stood up from his seat beside you, his expression dark with something you rarely saw on him—pure rage.

"Didn’t know you were so obsessed with Y/N’s family," George said loudly, his tone mockingly casual. "Bit weird, don’t you think? Maybe you should get a hobby."

A few Gryffindors snickered, and Pucey scowled. "I’m just saying—"

"Yeah, yeah, we heard you," George cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. "And honestly? It was boring. Next time, at least try to be original."

Fred, never one to miss an opportunity, added, "Or, better yet, just don’t talk at all. Would do wonders for our ears."

The Gryffindor table erupted in laughter, and Pucey’s face turned red. With a glare, he muttered something under his breath and turned away.

George sat back down beside you, nudging your shoulder gently. "Don’t let idiots like him get to you, love. They’re not worth it."

You blinked at him, warmth spreading through your chest. "Thanks, George."

He grinned. "Anytime."

And that was when you realized—if people wanted to make your life difficult, you had a Weasley twin on your side.

Which meant payback was in order.

"Alright, Y/N, what’s the plan?"

George sat cross-legged on the floor of the Gryffindor common room, eyes alight with mischief as he leaned in closer. Fred was beside him, equally eager.

You smirked. "Pucey and his little gang have been making my life miserable. I say we return the favor."

Fred grinned. "Now you’re speaking my language."

George nudged your knee playfully. "See, this is why I like you."

You felt heat rise to your cheeks but quickly focused back on the task at hand. "Alright, so here’s what I was thinking…"

The plan was simple—but effective.

Step one: Enchant Pucey’s robes so that every time he tried to insult you, his voice would turn into a high-pitched squeak.

Step two: Slip a potion into his pumpkin juice that would turn his hair bright pink for a week.

Step three: Charm his shoes so that they squeaked loudly with every step he took.

Step four? Sit back and enjoy.

The next morning, it all unfolded perfectly.

Pucey marched into the Great Hall, already scowling, but the moment he opened his mouth—

"I bet Y/N’s—"

"SQUEAK!"

His eyes widened in horror. He tried again, only for another ridiculous squeak to escape. Laughter erupted around the hall, and he clamped his mouth shut, face burning.

Then, as he sat down, he took a sip of his juice. Within seconds, his hair exploded into a bright, fluorescent pink.

"Oi, Pucey!" George called, grinning. "Love the new look!"

Fred nodded sagely. "Really brings out your eyes."

Pucey shot up, ready to storm out—only for his shoes to betray him.

SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK.

You, George, and Fred were practically *crying* with laughter as Pucey bolted out of the hall, pink-haired and humiliated.

"That," George gasped between laughs, throwing an arm around your shoulder, "was brilliant."

You beamed up at him. "You know, we make a pretty good team."

George smirked. "Oh, love, we’re just getting started."

And just like that, your life became a whirlwind of pranks, laughter, and George Weasley’s unwavering loyalty.

And maybe—just maybe—something more.

[sunafc]

Caught in the web – 9, romantic

masterlist

Suna knocks on the bathroom door, ‘Y/n?’, he whispers, ‘Can I come in?’

The girl opens the door and his eyes widen seeing the state she’s in, ‘Y/n...’ his hand trembles as he reaches out to her, eyes fixed on her side where a big cut made its way through her suit, pajama and skin.

‘I’m fine,’ she grabs his hand and smiles softly at him, ‘Ignore that, it looks uglier than it is, I promise,’ she gently takes the clean tshirt and first aid kit from his other hand, ‘You passed the infirmary on your way here? Thank you,’ and she places them on the sink.

Y/n takes the suit off of her, her pajama top is covered in blood and it sticks to her skin.

‘Let me help you,’ Suna opens the aid box and gets the sanitizer and cotton pads out, ‘You should take that off,’ he says pointing to the stained top.

The girl obliges, leaving herself wearing her bra and pajama pants. She leans on the sink with her back and winces a little, gaining a worried look from her friend.

‘I’m okay,’ she quickly says, ‘Just disinfect this and I’ll be–’ a groan leaves her lips when the sanitizer hits her wound, ‘Fuck,’ she breathes out.

Suna holds the cotton pads against her skin with a gentle pressure, ‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘I’m gonna do that again, I’ll be quick.’

Y/n holds her hand over her mouth getting ready for the second round.

Suna’s hand rests on her side for a little while, holding down the pads. His eyes worriedly scan her face and then the rest of her body, ‘Do you have any other injury?’

Then it all dawns on her, how close their bodies are, how she’s half naked, how worried he is for her, how gentle he was in taking care of her, how his hand is still on her skin and how there’s a weird, unknown feeling growing in her stomach.

She clears her throat, ‘That’s all,’ she lowers her gaze, ‘Thanks.’

Suna moves from her side and grabs some bandages, ‘You’ll be fine, right?’ He covers the wound all over and fixes it with a knot, making it thigh but careful not to hurt the girl.

‘I’ll be as good as new tomorrow,’ she reassures him, ‘Spiderman heals faster than normal.’

He nods as he holds out the clean tshirt he brought her, ‘Here, wear this,’ he watches as she makes the tshirt fall down her body, it’s a bit big on her but it looks cute. Suna smiles to himself, he goes to place everything back into the aid box, ‘How did this even happen? And why do you kinda smell like smoke?’

Y/n lets out a chuckle, ‘Here,’ she pats the sink next to her signaling the boy to get there and then she tells him about it.

notes:

– suna almost died on the spot when y/n said she stained her pjs with blood

– he run to the infirmary before going to find her in the bathroom

– he also almost died for everything that happened in the bathroom

– y/n finally realized her feelings! yippee!

– suna was really excited abt giving y/n his tshirt

– they talked for two hours straight then decided it was time to get some sleep especially for suna that has practice in the morning

– i hope there aren't typos in the written part 😭

taglist: @loveelylacey @mysteriousballer1na @loveliepa @wyrcan @lilchubbyyy @strxwberri-s @kitnootkat @yuminako @lovsvinny @punkhazardlaw @alexrin115 @iiwaijime @httpakkeiji @garfieldissocool @phoenix-eclipses @honeyfewr @dieforleclerc @tooru-bread @atsumuenthusiast @hycuye @le000xxgrd @canthavetoomuchchaos @neuviloved @lcvemiyuki @dazqa @itsdragonius @nyxlai @aboveasphodel @walllflowerrrsss @thepurpleempath @livixxn @futuristicxie @itsmiyamore @gsyche @zzzlevislothzzz @tsumuus @naweirdo @nishayuro @perinferii @piapiaweee3 @tojirin @savemebrazilhinata @twiishaa @samuel1004 @eri2222 @neoclb @shookykookie30 @arraxthatsonjah @does-directions @corvid007 closed [50/50]

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet for 'It runs in the bood'

I was so moved by all the lovely comments I got, that it made me want to work on the new chapter immediately, even if I probably should rest, instead.

Anyway, here is a little taste of Sirius being his horrible self.

-----

He finds Snape crowding Quirrell against a wall, acting all intimidating.

However, he’s a fucking looser that can only intimidate little children; it’s only when Sirius shows up that Quirrell bolts, making himself scarce so quickly, Sirius could swear he more flew away that walked-

I must be tired. Sirius must be seeing things that aren’t there. He had a very rough Samhain night, like all Samhain nights are for him, and after that, he had to open a letter to read Harry fought a fucking troll.

“That’s how you do it, Snivellus,” Sirius barks at him. “See, I just have to show up and people flee from me.”

Now it’s Sirius that crowds the miserable twat against the wall. “I hear you’re trying your hand at bullying, Snivellus. The problem is you’re trying it with my boy. I thought I should remind you why that is a terrible idea, the worst you’ve had in ten years.”

Snape glares at Sirius, with those black holes he has instead of eyes.

“How is it possible you got even uglier?” Sirius asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Snape pulls out his wand, face twisting with hate.

Sirius laughs. “Really? You want to curse a Hogwarts Governor? Not only you got uglier, but stupider, too. Truly, life doesn’t seem to agree with you. Shut up!” he growls, when Snape opens his mouth. “I don’t care to hear what you have to say; I never did.” He steps closer, towers over Snape, who still holds his wand firmly, but hesitates to do more with it.

“You know what I think, Snape? I think you should have another moonlight encounter with a four legged, furry animal. I think the first one wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson. You know why it wasn’t enough? Because James saved you. But you got him killed, you sniveling worm. You got him and Lily killed, and now there’s no one to save you when I send Greyback after you. And I will, if I hear a single complaint against you from Harry. You know I will.”

“You-” Snape hisses, going red and deathly pale at the same time. It’s a funny combination. “That’s all you do these days, threaten to set the werewolf on people? Brave Gryffindors should fight their own battles-”

“You’re unworthy of my wand. Curses are wasted on you. I even feel sorry for Greyback, to stain his fangs with your disgusting body…a pity. Alas, that’s why I have minions, to spare me of such undignified tasks. You’d like to have minions, too, no doubt. You’d love to have the means to set a werewolf on someone; that’s why you’re on a power trip with the children, you fucking arsehole, because they’re the only ones powerless enough to listen to you. But you don’t have anything, that’s the truth. Remember, I used to tell you, when we were kids ourselves? That you’ll die alone and unwanted? Seems I was right. No doubt you’re still sleeping with Lily’s picture on your pillow, since the poor photograph can’t exactly protest to your pathetic presence. At least have the decency not to antagonise her son- the one that you orphaned.”

“Sirius,” a firm voice calls from the end of the hallway.

It’s Dumbledore’s no nonsense voice, very different from how he sounded half an hour ago.

“Oh, sorry,” Sirius hisses at Snape. “I forgot you do have someone. A master to serve. A new one, that is. You’ve forsaken the first one, after all-”

“Sirius!” Dumbledore’s voice gets even steelier, and it’s coming closer.

“Stay away from Harry, you greasy pice of shit!” Sirius warns, and then turns and storms away.

And if that weird Quirrell stalks after him again, he’s going to meet the bad end of Sirius’ wand. He’s reached the limit of his patience for the night.

For the entire fucking year, actually.

[yanderelovebites]

American style, I should add

Getting tired of the Yandere bully trope—not because it’s hypocritical but because you’re telling me every Yandere bully is going to intensely bully their darling?

For one I want to read a Yandere bully (probably wealthy) who at most just teases his darling and bullies literally everyone else. He isolates her, but for her it isn’t obvious. If she had more serious bullies before, they have backed off because of him. His intentions are obvious to the rest of the school.

Give me a Yandere bully just isn’t *your* bully.

His breaking point would be one of two options. One guy thinks he’s playing around and continues their horrible treatment if you and your get hurt…

Or he finally confesses and you decline—even explain it to him that didn’t feel safe entering a relationship right now.

Either way man gets worse. Before he just protected you from everyone and made sure you got on your bus safely. Now he stalks you all the way home. He drives his own car to school so it just looks like a student might have moved and lives on the same route as them. He parks his car in the skate park across the street your brother oh so loves. He watches through your window.

I once night comes he watches you change. If you have a bad home life he had at first thought to kill them but then thought he could use it to his own advantage. Besides if you ever found out, in his head anyway, you were the type of person to be happy he didn’t commit to a crime. You would have freaked.

As high school goes on he just got worse and worse. He was meaner and uglier to others and you felt more alone. Yet, he remained teasing and the same guy you’ve always known when he’d speak to you. It was easier to pick up on his affections now that you know they existed.

He followed you to college. He couldn’t just bully everyone but thankfully, since you were so out of it at home and your high school days when it came to being social, you didn’t really make friends. so he worms his way back… he’s ready to have you for himself.

He’d find at a party you decided to give a try but you felt more like a wallflower. He found you and offered you a drink. You hadn’t realized the party had spiked punch, not normal punch. He got you to dance a little and feel comfortable as your mind got looser thanks to the alcohol.

He eventually got you drunk, led you away, found a place to have his way. You passed out in his arms so he brought you back to his apartment, he didn’t live on campus, so you’d wake up with someone to help you. He wouldn’t think anything he did was creepy at all.

He snuck an after pill in with the rest of the medication. He wanted you, but he didn’t want to fuck up your dreams. He claimed to have left you alone for a bit and someone else must’ve found you, that he’s sorry when you realize what happened a few days later. It’s a lie, but you don’t know that. He gets you to warm up to him after all that.

I just need, no crave that type of bully Yandere. Not all bullies need to bully their crush >.<

Sorry this was a bit of a ramble 😅

[somnambuletta]

what the psalms do not say

there is rot beneath his hands, but you do not recoil.

the wolf watches you, black-pitted gaze drinking in your stillness, your absence of protest. the room hums with the scent of ruin-iron, damp earth, something festering in the corners where the lamplight refuses to touch. there is a terrible kind of peace in it, in the way he sits, in the way his finger brush the edge of your wrist as if testing its frailty.

the years before him had no shepherd, no crook to gather you into warmth. if suffering was the river, you waded through it alone; faith slipping through trembling fingers. now, here in the den of the beast- there is a kind of certainty, a law written not in scripture, but in hunger.

his voice is a blade drawn slow from its sheath. "you fear me less, now."

the lamb stirs, lifts its head. "should i not?"

his mouth is a curve of quiet amusement. "you should." a pause. "but you don't."

no, you do not.

you have learned the shape of his cruelty, the depth of his appetite. the hands that once seized now linger. the jaws that tore have softened, if only at their edges. his violence has not vanished- it is merely held at bay, an ocean waiting to reclaim its shore.

the wolf is still sin, but not upon you.

you watch him, the dark slope of his shoulders, the way the shadows bend to his form. there is a godlessness to him, something that should have been met with prayer and revulsion, and yet, beneath it all, there is the ruinous comfort of belonging- an alter carved in want, in necessity.

"you'd let me leave," you murmur, though you both know the answer.

his fingers graze your throat, ghosting over the fragile beat beneath your skin. his voice is quiet. reverent.

"i'd let you try."

﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊﹊

the wolf does not move, yet he commands.

there is no shackle at your wrist- no weight of iron to tether you, and yet - he does not need them. you do not leave. you do not run. perhaps, long ago, you might have, when your hands still knew the shape of prayer and your lips could still form the words. but it has been a year, and no deliverance has come. no burning bush, no weeping angel, no hand of god descending to pluck you from the ruin of your own faith.

you are the lamb, and the lamb is alone.

the wolf tilts his head. you have learned to read the angles of him, the way silence stretches between you like bowed strings. "tell me," he muses- voice smooth as wet stone, "was it faith that made you love me?"

you recoil at the word- love, that most wretched and dishonest of names. he is not a shepherd, nor is he a savior. the wolves of aesop's fables do not love their lambs, and yet they keep them close - under tooth and claw, beneath the excuse of mercy. they let them graze at their feet, let them grow comfortable, let them lean into the shadow of their ruin until there is no distinction between protector and predator.

perhaps that is what you are now. no longer a captive, not quite a believer, not yet a martyr. you belong to him, but not in the way that the saved belong to their god- no. this is something else. deeper, uglier, by starvation and misplaced dulia.

"did you hear me?" he murmurs, watching you, always watching.

the lamb swallows, the words curdling on their tongue. "it was faith that made me wait. but it was hunger that made me stay."

he exhales, a quiet laugh at that, and something in his gaze sharpens. he is still sin, still beast, still a thing of gnashing want and blackened hands. but you are not clean, either. not anymore. perhaps you never were.

and john said: "behold, the lamb of god, who takes away the sin of the world!"

but the lamb did not take away the wolf's sin. the lamb suffered it.

he reaches for you, his touch both a curse and a benediction, and your body does not flinch as it once did. his palm rests at the nape of your neck, fingers pressing, grasping- not quite an embrace, not quite a claim, but something in between.

"ah," he susurrates, with a smile that is far too soft for what he is, "but what is hunger if not the oldest of sins?"

his touch is not gentle. it mimics gentleness, the way wolves mimic dogs, the way demons mimic angels. but it is not real, and you are foolish for wanting it to be.

perhaps, dionysus would have laughed at you. at this perverse little communion you share- his maenads, too, loved their gods- even as they were torn apart by them. or perhaps orpheus, who thought love would keep him safe, only to turn back and watch it slip from his grasp like water through cracked fingers.

you do not remember how to pray anymore.

you do not know if you would, even if you could.

his lips press against your throat, and you feel the shape of his teeth, the way his breath tinges over the place where he might bite, if he wished to. if he still could. but he does not. not tonight. tonight, the wolf only claims.

his talons weave into the roots of your hair, curling, not to restrain, but to remind- to hold, to make known. that you belong to him, that no herdsmen will come to take you back. that even if you fled, he would find you again - call you by name, drag you back into the dark and have you whisper confessions into his hands.

"you smell like fear," jack purrs, but it is not quite a taunt. not quite a truth, either. "not of me; not anymore. but you still tremble."

your breath stirs against his chest, depthless, and thin. "because i remember," you answer.

the wolf chuckles, deep and slow. he likes that. likes that you remember, likes that it has not yet left you, even as your body presses into his, as if it were made for it. he lives in you now, in the marrow, in the ruined folds of your mind where fidelity used to be.

the lord said: "behold, the lamb of god!"

but there is no god here, no salvation- only the scent of jack's skin, the weight of his body curved around yours. the slow, rhythmic pressure of his mouth against the shell of your ear. not biting, not tearing- just breathing. marking. ensuring.

so that no other varmint would take you for their own.

so you would not dare to think of yourself unowned. the wolf does not sleep, even as dawn approaches.

his lips ghost down the column of your throat, where his scent lingers, where his jaw once threatened to break you apart. his hands slide beneath the thin fabric at your hip, fingers spanning wide, as if measuring, as if thinking of all the ways he might carve you into something more like himself.

"say it," he urges against your skin.

you hesitate. he tightens his grip.

"yours," says the lamb.

an eupnea of eudemonia, the press of teeth- blunt this time, mouth parted, tongue warm where it swipes over the bruises he's left. "good lamb," he rasps. "again."

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Ten

Fool's Fare: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: ASSAULT, ATTEMPTED SA, feelings of jealousy, reader avoiding her problems, smut (pain kink, fingering, dry humping, p in v, dirty talk, slight breeding kink), arguing, descriptions of blood, violence, misplaced rage, idiots in love. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: Just under 5.7k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

You always thought monsters were found solely in the spoken words of stories passed from person to person in low lights, in hushed whispers, in frantic glances.

They were the things that parents warned their children about, their gnashing teeth and glowing eyes hunting them in the dark, reminding them to stay close, to stay mindful, to stay safe.

You didn’t believe in monsters. You hadn’t since you were little, but now you wondered if monsters weren’t the creatures that roamed the nights, preying on children and unsuspecting folks as they traversed the shadows. Perhaps they were the unsuspecting victims of circumstance, the victims of choices made and consequences dealt with no care for the intentions behind them.

Did any one person ever intend to become a monster? To become the thing that parents warned their children about? Were they born or were they made? Was a monster capable of being a good person? Or did the title bar one from redemption? Were they even capable of love?

Captain Jake Seresin was a good man, of this you were sure and certain. You saw the way he treated the men of his crew with respect and fairness no matter how far down the totem pole they were. You saw how he smiled at the children in the different port town, green eyes twinkling as he waved at the babies and ruffled the hair of the small children that greeted him. You saw the way he closed his eyes in the setting sun, the sea breeze ruffling his golden locks, the smile that lay in a shadow on his lips as he savored the moment.

You watched him in those moments, wondering how anyone could think him a monster. You were no stranger to his harder moments or his rougher actions, but you supposed you had your fair share of the same. Despite seeing the uglier side of him, if you could even call it that, you still found yourself drawn to the rugged captain all the same. Your eyes would wander toward him before you even had the chance to realize what you were doing, green eyes meeting yours and snapping you out of your reverie as heat would rise to your cheeks. It was a wonder the roof of your cabin had no holes in it from the way you lay awake at night, staring daggers into the worn wood as your mind raced with thoughts of the captain, of what would happen should you either fail or succeed in having the curse lifted.

It had been two weeks since the events on the isle, and the captain had yet to lay a finger on you, as promised. On more than one occasion you had waited with bated breath as he would reach for you, only to huff quietly in disappointment as he would stop and let his fingers drop back to his sides. You found you missed his touch, the constant reassurance it brought to you that you were safe under the watchful eyes of your captain.

Truly, you found that you missed having him around you so constantly. You missed the late night filled with quiet laughter and the shared tales of growing up in your different parts of the world. The way his fingers would play with the ends of your hair or smooth over your cheeks as he studied you while you told your stories. Or the way his emerald eyes would light up with joy as he recounted a story of he and Javy back in the days before he took command of the Hangman. You missed him.

Of course, the captain was sure to keep up with your sword lessons, and you were proud to say that his hits were growing fewer and farther in between. You had yet to best him, but you caught the flashes of pride that danced in his eyes every time you came close.

You once again found yourself perched in a chair inside a busy tavern, the other ladies bustling around the room with drinks and ample cleavage on display for wandering eyes of men. You saw several members of your own crew casting longing glances at the ladies, and you suspected several of the newer members would try their hands at sating the undeterrable desire that coursed their veins.

You let out a long, labored sigh as you rested your chin on your fist, eyes scanning the room with disinterest as the men spoke around you. Natasha sat across the room, a gaggle of men surrounding her as she regaled them with titillating tales of her adventures and coy flirtations disguised as teasing japes. You wondered if you could ever find yourself feeling so carefree, envying her ability to forget the current circumstances as the deadline to end the curse drew nearer with each passing day.

The tension from your group of friends was palpable as they watched the blond captain oversee the signing of the poor, new souls sign away their lives to one of servitude. Javy stood at his side, arms crossed with a stoic expression on his face, but the way he would glance over towards Natasha just a few tables over was not lost to your watchful eye.

A pretty red head sauntered over towards where your captain sat, a lascivious smile curled on her painted lips as her eyes wandered over Jake’s form draped across the wooden chair. A manicured hand came up to rest on his shoulder, dipping down towards the open V of his cotton shirt as she leaned down to whisper something in his ear. His hand reached up to hers, taking it, and you felt the ugly twist of heat curl in your chest as your cheeks warmed. You stood abruptly, chair scraping against the stone floor as the others cast wary glances your way.

“I need some air,” you muttered, already moving towards the exit, shoving past the several large bodies, drunkenly swaying as they blocked your escape route. If the others called after you, you didn’t hear them over the noise of the tavern and the blood rushing in your ears. He would touch her, but not you? His touch you had to beg for, seeking it out yourself because he refused to touch you for some stupid sense of honor and valiance, and yet he gave it freely to the first woman who came in his sights.

The night air was cool on your skin as you finally managed to break through the crowd. You paused only for a brief moment before you pushed forward, determined to put some distance between yourself and the stifling air of merriment.

You had made it only a few yards before you heard your name ring out in the quiet streets, the familiar timbre causing your heart to clench in mixture of anguish and anger as your thoughts swirled inside your head. He had deprived you of his comfort for weeks, had kept you at bay and away from him for so long, and now he suddenly wanted you?

You ignored him as you sped up your pace, hearing the sound of his footsteps pick up as well. You rounded a corner, pushing yourself back against the entryway of one of the buildings and out of the dim light cast by the streetlamps. You waited with bated breath as the footsteps rounded the corner, a flash of blond jogging past your hiding place before coming to a slow stop once he realized you were nowhere in sight.

“Guppy?” He called, uncertainty laced in his voice. You stayed silent, still, as he glanced around the buildings lining the street. You shifted in the shadows, pressing yourself as far back as you could as you watched him. He let out a deep sigh, hunching over as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Guppy, please,” he said again, twisting as he inspected the shadows. “Can we talk?”

You didn’t want to talk, not with him. At least, not in that moment. No, you wanted him to feel as helpless as you had for two weeks, reaching out only to be ignored. You wouldn’t forgive him so easily.

You needed a moment to breathe, to think. You had been afforded so little time to yourself, constantly bombarded with tasks on the ship in between your sword lessons and chatter with your friends. You hadn’t allowed yourself a moment to process the events of the isle and the information you gathered after, and you found your frustrations and feelings from the past two weeks boiling to the surface.

Jake let out a curse under his breath as he paused in his turning. You watched as his teeth worried on his bottom lip, indecision clear on his face before stalking off in the opposite direction. You waited a few moments, making sure he was gone before slipping out from the shadows, scanning the street for signs of anyone. Seeing signs of no one, you looked back one last time in the direction the captain had disappeared in before turning towards the harbor.

You managed to make it back to the ship before the tears started leaking past your carefully constructed wall of feigned indifference. It was quiet, the entire crew having decided to try and find some sense of normalcy at the tavern, and you were thankful for that serendipitous turn of events as you padded across the deck towards the stairs to the galley.

The ship swayed in the tide, causing you to be somewhat unsteady on your feet as you stumbled towards the kitchen. The ale felt sour in your belly, and you were sure some food would help settle it before you retired for the evening to wallow in your feelings.

A part of you knew you were being unreasonable in how you were handling the situation, and as you scrounged up some bread, you huffed at your own unwillingness to address the issue.

You would never move past this rough spot unless you sat down to have a conversation with the captain. Two weeks had allowed the wounds to fester, and avoiding the situation would only make it worse.

You had just found the last of the cheese, making a mental note to pick some up at the market tomorrow before departure when the creak of one of the floorboards caused you to pause. Letting out a sigh, you turned around towards the entrance to the kitchen. It was the captain you had expected to see, so it surprised you to see one of the crew members bracing himself against the frame of the doorway, dark eyes fixed on where you stood. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought him drunk or ill with the way his skin shone with sweat, the paleness of him showing in stark contrast to the shadows of the room. The bags under his eyes caused him to have a skeletal appearance, and the hair on the back of your neck stood at attention as the two of you stared at one another.

“Evening,” you offered, wincing at how small your voice sounded. “Can I help you?”

The man said nothing, thin lips turning downwards as he cocked his head to the side. He took a slow, heavy step forward, and your eyes immediately darted towards the knife that lay on the edge of the counter. It wouldn’t kill him or cause much harm by any means, but it might slow him down enough for you to escape should you need to.

“Are you hungry?” You asked him, inching slowly towards the knife so as not to cause suspicion. “I can make you something if you like.”

“You know we’re always hungry,” he sneered, looking at you with disdain. “Haven’t had a sated belly in months. Haven’t had a drink that’s not left me more parched than before either. And women…”

He paused, eyes raking over your still form, and your heart pounded in your chest. The night was still fairly early, and you would be surprised if anyone made their way back to the ship anytime soon.

“We all know that you’re the only source of relief on this ship,” he continued, eyes growing impossibly darker as he took another step towards you. “You’re always surrounded by that lot, though. None of us can get close to you. Tha’s why when I saw you leave, I knew I had to take my chance.”

You felt your fingers twitch as you glanced back over at the knife, taking a small step sideways as he took another haggard step forward.

“Chance at what?” You asked him, voice barely above a whisper, and you cursed yourself for how shaky it sounded. The man stopped, standing slightly straighter as his cold, black eyes fixated on you.

“Relief,” he uttered, the word barely passing his lips before he lunged for you. You were faster, barely, as you scrambled for the knife. You gripped the handle in your hand, whirling around just as the man’s body crashed into yours. You let out a grunt as you stumbled, nearly falling to the ground, but managing to catch yourself on the counter. Fury coursed through your veins as the man’s hot breath washed over your face, his eyes blazing but almost unseeing as he reached for you. You brought your hand up, slashing at his face with the knife.

He let out a howl of pain as he clutched his now bleeding eye, falling to his knees as the thick, red liquid oozed out between his fingers, and you took the moment to scramble away from him, hissing as your hip collided with the edge of the counter. Your eyes fixed on the dinner bell hanging just by the stairs of the galley. You glanced back for half a second to see the man staggering to his feet, hand still gripping his skull as he fixed a murderous glare on you. You sucked in a breath as you bolted from the kitchen, the bell growing closer and closer as you willed your feet to move faster.

Your fingers wrapped around the rope attached to the bell and you pulled frantically, the loud clanging of the metal echoing through the room and up the stairs onto the deck. You hoped that it was loud enough for someone to hear and investigate.

Your thoughts were cut short as a hand yanked you backwards by your hair, a hiss of pain leaving your lips as your hands clawed at the ones just out of reach behind you.

“You miserable, little cunt,” the man growled, slamming you into the wood of the entrance, “I coulda been nice to ya, but now? Now I’m going to make sure it hurts.”

Your cheek ached from the force of the impact, the rough wood scratching your skin and adding to the sensation as you struggled to break free of his hold.

“Stop your squirmin’,” he muttered, hand wrapped around both of your wrists as he gripped your shoulder with the other to pull you back away from the wall. You took that moment to bring your foot back as hard as possible, heel meeting something solid in the process. The man let out a grunt of pain before his hand moved from your shoulder to grip your chin, pulling it back at an awkward angle to look at you.

“Now listen here-”

You didn’t let him finish, instead opening your mouth and biting down as hard as you could onto his fingers. He let out a pained yell as your mouth flooded with the taste of iron. He snatched his hand back, his other letting go of your wrists. You took the opportunity to flee, feet thudding up the steps to the deck. You turned your head to glance back over your shoulder, but before you could get a gauge on how far away the man was, you ran into a solid wall of muscle.

You let out a grunt as you stumbled back, nearly falling down the stairs before an hand reached out to grab your hip and steady you. You reeled back, eyes locking onto brilliant green, and your body sagged in relief.

“Guppy?” Jake frowned, eyes scanning you head to toe. You were sure you looked a sight in that moment. The throbbing in your cheek was pounding, the skin there sticky with what you were sure was blood. Your wrists and shoulders ached from where the man had twisted them back.

At that moment, thundering footsteps sounded behind you, and your heart jumped in panic as you twisted around in Jake’s hold. The man’s murderous gaze landed on you, his lips curled in a sneer before dropping at the sight of the captain behind you. His skin paled as Jake’s hold on you tightened, and you felt the familiar sting of tears behind your eyes.

“What happened?” Jake barked, and the man in front of you flinched at the tone. Neither of you said a word as you stared at one another, daring the other to speak first.

Footsteps sounded on the gangway, and you turned to see a small group making their way onto the deck, headed by Javy. The quarter master stopped short as he saw the scene in front of him, his usual stoicism slipping into a look of shock before they schooled once more. He pushed his shoulders back and made quick strides to stand next to the two of you.

“Captain,” he said, arching a brow at the man behind you. “What seems to be the problem here?”

“I was wondering that myself,” Jake growled, the tension rolling off of him in waves. A beat of silence passed before Javy let out a drawn-out sigh.

“Thomas,” he snapped, drawing the man’s attention. “Get your ass down in the galley. I’ll be dealing with you in a moment.”

The quarter master’s tone left no room for argument and the man, Thomas, cast one last glance in your direction before retreating back down the steps.

“Reuben. Mickey,” Javy barked out. Both men hurried to follow Thomas down the steps without another word, giving you curious looks as they walked by. The quarter master turned to look at the captain, lips pressed tightly together as he glanced down at you.

“You might want to get her cleaned up,” he said quietly. Jake said nothing. He guided you towards the cabin, his touch surprisingly gentle as your feet stumbled beneath you. You felt the first wave of exhaustion hit you then, sagging further into Jake’s side as he led you past the door and down the hall to his cabin.

The room was just as you remembered, not having seen it in the weeks since the captain started pushing you away. The man in question led you further into the room before guiding you to sit on the edge of the bed. Your mind was foggy, but you were vaguely aware of Jake moving. The sound of water being poured from a pitcher and into a bowl filled the room, and the blond kneeled before you with a cloth in hand. He took one of your hands in his, stroking the back of it with his thumb gently.

“Guppy?” He murmured, eyes searching your face. “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” you croaked quietly. Jake gave you a comforting smile that seemed strained more than anything else. He looked away to mess with the bowl to his side, wringing the cloth of the water it had soaked up before turning back to you.

“You had me worried there for a second,” he said finally, dabbing at the scratches on your cheek. “I couldn’t find you after you left the tavern, and then I heard the bell on the ship, which I thought was odd for this time of night. I go to investigate and you run right into me with one of my crew hot on your tail.”

You said nothing, eyelids drooping as you fought the urge to sleep that was quickly taking over. Jake worked methodically, dabbing gently at your cheek and wiping away the blood that stained your skin.

“You should get some rest,” he told you, dropping the cloth back into the bowl and moving to stand. You watched him, taking note of the way his brow furrowed and his lips pulled down into a frown. He set the bowl on one of the tables littering the wall before turning back to you.

“You must be exhausted after today,” he continued, making his way back over to you. He brushed the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear before cupping your cheek gently. He bent down to press a kiss to your forehead, pulling away slightly, but still lingering.

“I mean it,” he chided, hands pushing you and guiding you to lay back, “you need to get some rest. We’ll talk later, alright?”

You nodded, eyes already falling closed as he retreated.

You awoke with a start, sweat clinging to your forehead as you bolted upright. The lingering feeling of being chased hung in the air as your chest rose and fell with every pant of air. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but the sun looked to be well in the sky from where you sat on the bed. It was at that moment that the door to the cabin swung open.

Jake stood in the doorway, a look of concern on his flushed face, as if he had been running.

“What is it?” He asked, breathless. “What’s wrong?”

You stared at him dumbly. “What?”

“I heard screaming,” he replied, brow furrowing as he inched into the room, the door closing behind him. “I thought something was wrong.”

You continued to stare at him as he padded closer, studying you.

“How’re you doing?” He asked finally, softly. The events of the night before rushed back to you. The feeling of helplessness, the pain, the fear. You thought about what Thomas had said to you, about wanting to feel relief, and a wave of anger crashed into you so suddenly that you were on your feet before you knew it. You stomped over to Jake, shoving at his chest. The captain was taken aback, stumbling backwards in his surprise.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands up to defend against the blows of your fists against his chest. You ignored his outcry, swinging your hands blindly in front of you.

“Guppy, stop,” Jake said, scrambling to grab your wrists and stop you. You bared your teeth, rage pulsing through you much like it had last night.

“Dammit, stop!” He snapped, finally getting ahold of your wrists, stopping your tirade. The two of you stared at each other, panting from the exertion. Jakes eyes bored into yours, searching for what, you didn’t know. You yanked your hands free of his, pursing your lips in a tight frown as you studied him back. A warmth blossomed in your lower stomach, and your breaths grew labored for a different reason. Jake’s expression morphed into one of confusion, which didn’t last long as you leaned up to kiss him.

He let out a noise of quiet surprise before returning the kiss with enthusiasm. One hand moved to grip your waist, pulling you closer as the other snaked up to cup the back of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his neck, caution thrown to the wind as you moved your lips against his. Jake licked into your mouth, drawing out an embarrassingly loud noise from you. You felt the smirk against your lips, and a twinge of annoyance fluttered through the surface.

You pulled back, breathing heavy before pushing against Jake’s chest to dislodge yourself from his embrace. He gave you a puzzled look as you spun him around, pushing him down onto the edge of the bed. You hoisted your skirts up around you before settling down on his lap, once again attaching your lips to his. He let out a grunt that quickly dissolved into a moan as you began to rock against him, the hardness of him pressing into you through his trousers.

His hands settled on your hips, guiding you over him as his mouth devoured yours in a kiss that was more tongue and teeth than anything else. Your hands roamed his figure, up the span of his torso, over his shoulders, and into his hair. Your fingers entwined with his golden locks, scratching at his scalp and eliciting a drawn out grown from the man beneath you.

You clutched at his hair, yanking his head back harshly. Jake let out a hiss as his eyes focused on you. Green was swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils, and a look of pure lust adorned his face as you held him still.

“It’s your fault,” you spat, hovering your lips just over his. His brow furrowed once more.

“What?”

“He wouldn’t have gone after me if you hadn’t been avoiding me for weeks,” you continued, grinding down on the bulge in Jake’s pants. He gave a wanton moan as his eyes fluttered closed.

“Nothing to say?” You breathed, a moan escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through you.

“It wouldn’t have-fuck!” He groaned, “it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t run from me.”

You let out a growl before yanking his head to the side, running your nose along his neck. You sank your teeth into the meat of his shoulder, drawing out a pathetic whimper as his grip on you tightened, the muscles in his neck straining as he fought for control.

You let out a startled yelp as you were flipped onto your back, Jake’s hands scrambling to untie the strings of your shirt, baring your chest to him. The cool air caused your nipples to start pebbling, your chest heaving as you gazed up at him.

Jake lowered his mouth down to capture one nipple between his lips, laving it with attention as a hand reached up to grope the other. Your back arched as you threw your head back in bliss, hands curling in the soft locks of your lover once more. Jake nipped and sucked at the skin of your breast before shifting his attention to the other, and you glanced down to find him already looking at you. A smirk ghosted on his lips as he trailed a hand down under your skirts.

His fingers brushed your lower lips, sending a shiver up your spine that left you wanting more.

“Look at you,” he cooed, running his hand up and down your slit, your wetness coating him as you moaned. “Already so wet for me. You get off acting like such a wild thing all the time?”

His thumb circled your clit, and you let out a high-pitched whine as you arched into his touch. The smirk was full-blown now as you clung to him.

“Don’t you worry, pretty girl,” he murmured, cradling the back of your neck to bring your forehead to rest against his. His nose nuzzled yours as your breaths came out in quick pants. “I’ll take good care of you.”

Slowly, he pressed a finger into your entrance, your walls gripping the digit tightly, and he let out a breath.

“Fuck, so tight,” he muttered more to himself than to you. You clung to him, fingertips digging into his shoulders as he slowly pumped in and out of you, adding a second finger before long.

“Such pretty noises you make for me,” he cooed once more, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before drawing back. You tried to chase after him, but he moved just out of reach with a chuckle. “You’re squeezin’ me so hard, darlin’. You gonna let go for me?”

You let out another whimper, the coil in your belly curling tight as you scrunched your eyes closed, and you fought to hold it off just a little longer. Jake tutted, moving the hand on your neck to grip your chin firmly. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his disapproving gaze.

“Don’t you go holding back on me,” he growled, speeding up the motion of his fingers, paying special attention to your clit. “Your pleasure is mine. Now give. It. To. Me.”

With a final thrust, the coil sprang, pleasure coursing through your veins as you let out a keening moan. Jake leaned forward, swallowing your pleasure with a debauched kiss that left your head reeling for air. He pulled away, and you gasped for air, sucking in lungfuls as you came down from your high.

Jake littered soft kisses along your neck leading down to your shoulders, and a new wave of need filled you. You ran a hand through his hair, the other reaching between the two of you to pull at the laces of his britches.

“Jake,” you breathed, looking at him through your lashes. “Need you.”

Jake pulled back with a huff of a laugh as he looked down at you, hands moving to help release him from his pants.

“Not even going to wait for us to undress?” He teased, sucking in a breath as your hand wrapped around his length.

“Need you now,” you insisted, stroking him. He let out a groan, shifting back on his haunches as you released him, spreading your legs with a whine. Jake hesitated, and you pouted up at him.

“What is it?” You asked, leaning up slightly to get a better look at him.

“It’s just,” he paused, pressing his lips together and turning his gaze away from you. “I need to know if this is real. If this is more than just anger, and adrenaline, and any feelings you’re having about the deadline coming up.”

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words. You sat up, taking his hand in yours and squeezing gently.

“You don’t have to worry about any of that,” you whispered. Jake looked back at you, eyes searching once more, and you gave him a soft smile that you hoped eased his worries.

“Kiss me,” you said. Jake returned your smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him with you as you laid back. The kiss morphed into one that was more debauched, quiet moans falling past your lips as Jake trailed his own down your neck.

You reached down to grip him once more, spreading your legs and aligning him with your entrance. Jake wasted no time, leaning back to watch you as he pushed inside of you slowly. You let out a gasp, hands clutching at his arms as he filled you, the slight burn pushing the air from your lungs.

“Taking me so well, sugar,” he crooned, running his knuckles along your cheek. “So warm and wet for me, fuck. Could stay inside of you forever.”

His words had you clenching around him, and he let out a strangled moan.

“You keep doin’ that, and I’m not gonna last long, darlin’,” he chuckled.

“Need you to move,” you whimpered. “Need you to fuck me.”

Jake didn’t respond, instead leaning down to capture your lips in another kiss as he pulled his hips back, only to push them forward once more. He soon found a rhythm, and the sound of skin slapping and the cacophony of noises from the two of you soon filled the room.

“Feel so good,” he muttered in between kisses along your skin. Your nails dug into his shoulders now, legs wrapped around his waist, urging him on. “Never felt something this good, shit. Never wanna leave. Never want anyone else, just you. Squeezin’ me so hard, yeah. Just like that. I’m not gonna last much longer, darlin’, you just feel too good.”

“Need it,” you choked out, the coil inside of you on the brink of bursting once more. “Need to feel you.”

“Fuck, sugar,” he groaned, hips moving faster and losing their rhythm. “Want me to fill you up? Is that what you want?”

You nodded, moans escaping your lips left and right as you teetered on the edge.

“Dirty girl,” he huffed with a laugh. “Feel you clenchin’ around me. Don’t you worry, I’ll give it to you. Keep you nice and full, and then you’ll swell with me. You like the sound of that? Like the idea of me marking you from the inside out?”

Your hips bucked up to meet his, desperately chasing your release, and Jake obliged by slipping a hand between the two of you to toy with your clit.

“Need to feel you come around me, pretty girl. Then I’ll give you what you want,” he cooed. “Come for me.”

His words were all it took to send you over the precipice. Your moan caught in your throat, and your back arched as you came hard around him. Jake’s pace picked up before his hips stuttered, a moan leaving his lips as warmth flooded inside of you. He gave a few more shallow thrusts before stilling. His breath fanned across your neck, your fingers running through his hair.

Jake shifted off of you, pulling out of you with a quiet hiss as he shuffled to lay next to you. His hand gripped your waist, pulling you close with a sigh. You nuzzled into him, resting your head against the pillows as you held the captain in your arms, his head resting on your chest. Neither of you said anything for a long moment, just basking in the afterglow of your coupling.

“I love you.”

It was so quiet, you weren’t even sure you had heard it at first. Your fingers paused in his hair for a moment before continuing their path. Something swelled inside your chest, and you willed the tears to stay locked inside. What you were feeling would only serve to cause you more harm if everything went poorly, and still…

“I love you too.”

A/N: You all have the fact that I started watching Black Sails this weekend to thank for this. But seriously, I know I took an unexpected hiatus after everything that went on last month, and for a while there, I wasn't even sure about the future of this blog. Thank you all for sticking by me as I navigated what I was doing, and I hope to have more for you guys here soon!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[joelsprettyprincess]

Someone Like You

Pairing: Dutch Van Der Linde x f!prostitute!reader Summary: A certain client excites desires that you never knew you had. Tags: smut, oral sex, age gap (20s/40s), pet names, daddy kink, slight dd/Ig dynamics, power imbalance, Dutch-typical misogyny, aftercare Wordcount: 3.67k A/N: IT'S DONE!! Once I really get into my groove, I can finish stuff pretty fast, so I wrote this in about 2 days, more or less. Like I mentioned before this is really self-indulgent. To a point. I will go ahead and say I know nothing about prostitution or gentleman's clubs in 1900, so most of the exposition/logistics is kind of just what I pieced together.. Also, Dutch is very much an asshole in this. It takes place like, right after a certain person's death, as you will see. I think it's fitting, though, unfortunately. Also, it took me forever to think of the name. I take it pretty seriously and finally landed on this one (it's a reference to the song!). I like to think it encapsulates the theme of this fic. And YES I added a ball-sucking part and I HAVE NO SHAME. Thank you to @cafekitsune for the divider!! 🙏 Anyway enjoy and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The beige wallpaper inside the gentleman’s club was stained, and peeling in some places, exposing the wooden planks underneath. The tiny flowers dotted at even intervals, once a cheery yellow, were now various shades of orange and brown, made even uglier by the light of the oil lamps along the walls. The sag of the paper in several corners matched the downcast mood of the cramped, badly lit lobby.

This was taken in discreetly by Dutch Van Der Linde, yet he made no comment about it. At an establishment such as this one, the real attraction was the people, not the building.

He walked up to the antiquated counter, where an older man with a large, crooked nose and wrinkly skin sat, puffing away at a fat cigar.

“Yes sir,” the man spoke with a small, knowing smile. He blew a cloud of smoke to the side. “Are you interested in a show? Or perhaps a private room with a girl? We’ve lots of lovely young ladies, the best in Lemoyne. Any size, any color, whatever you want. Cheap rates too.”

Dutch usually felt it was beneath him to patronize such a place, but things back at camp had been so upsetting and melancholy lately that he’d been driven to seek out a different type of thrill entirely. Just for one night…

“I’d like to book a room with a girl,” he answered. “And could I make a special request?” 

“‘Course.”

He listed his preferences. “I’d like a cute one. Young, but legal. Perhaps…one that hasn’t been here for long.” 

There was just something special about laying with a woman on the younger side, in Dutch’s opinion. One that wasn’t sullied and jaded by the aches of the world. He liked the zest for life so many of them had— yet, without fail, that enthusiasm eventually faded. It happened with Susan, and it had begun happening with Molly. That was a great tragedy of his life; he could never hold on to that feeling of sunshine— eventually, the rains came.

The man nodded and thought for a bit, taking another drag on his cigar. “I tell you what, sir, we not too long ago got a wonderful girl. She’s very pretty, she’ll lay down and take anything you give her—”

“That’s- that’s fine,” Dutch interrupted, not wanting to stand in this dingy room any longer. “What room?” He shifted, looking at the worn wooden staircase to the left of the room. 

“2C should be open,” the man informed him, gesturing towards the staircase. “That’s the second floor, second room on the right. I’ll collect the girl and she’ll meet you there, yeah?”

“Thanks,” Dutch grunted. After he paid, he ventured up the creaky stairs and found 2C easily. He could hear faint moans coming from some of the other rooms. Pushing open the door, he stepped into a small, simply decorated room with a bed and a couple of chairs with thin beige cushions. He calmly took off his shoes and vest, then sat on the cream-and-red bedspread and waited.

You’d just gotten dressed after a bath when a knock came at your door. The Saint Denis sun had almost completely dipped, and rays of purple were overtaking the yellow and orange sky. You’d been hoping to turn into bed early; it had been a rare day with no clients.

Mr. Gelding called your name just as you opened the door. He was a large, overbearingly friendly man, though to his credit he never crossed the line. He was one of several managers in Landry Gentlemen's Club— they all oversaw the daily events of the club, as well as providing protection and support to the girls. That was a big reason you preferred to work here instead of simply catcalling on the streets; it provided greater job security.

This— providing various services to men— was your line of work. Had been, for the past 6 months. It paid the bills much faster than a regular job, and you were able to squander a little cash every week. Eventually you wanted to get a small place of your own—perhaps in Strawberry— but until then, you would work here.

Prior to this, you had juggled 2 jobs: toiling for a rancher by day, and working as a bargirl by night. After your father had left your mother when you were ten, you’d worked to support the family.

Then your mother, who’d always had a weak immune system, succumbed to a particularly bad fever soon after you’d turned nineteen. The rancher you worked under had at least been understanding and let you stay on the farm with a discounted rent, but even with that discount you struggled to make ends meet. Thus, you’d sought out a more lucrative line of work and started working at the gentleman’s club.

Only the girls who provided direct sexual services to clients actually lived in these quarters. Most of the dancers and performers came and worked, then left for their own homes. After being hired, you’d moved here out of convenience. This particular building was a little offset from the performance area, but still basically next door to it. It was quite small; two stories high, with plain hallways that had several doors on either side leading to the girls’ private rooms.

Your room was simply decorated, just a plain bed with your keepsakes hidden underneath it. The savings you’d earned so far were in a lockbox shoved deep in the closet.

“Missy, don’t turn in just yet,” Mr. Gelding spoke in a jovial voice. “You’ve got a client waiting in 2C.” He leaned against the doorway, smelling of cigar smoke and sweat.

“Oh,” you spoke, silently mourning the free time you’d had. Then again, more clients meant more money.

“He seems pretty wealthy, between you and me,” he added in a lower tone. “Be a good girl for him and he might pay a little extra.” He chuckled, then patted your shoulder.

After Mr. Gelding left, you quickly changed into a simple red dress. You’d noticed that men liked that color a lot, for whatever reason. A quick brush of the hair and of your teeth, and you were ready.

You wasted no time in walking over to the “performance building”. On the right side was where the showgirls and dancers performed, and on the left were the private rooms. You entered on the left side.

Climbing up the creaky staircase, you brushed by Millie, another worker here. She was quite a bit older than you, perhaps 30 or 35. Sometimes you wondered how long she’d been here.

Well, that was not going to be you. This was strictly a temporary job.

Standing in front of 2C, you took a moment to pat down your hair and put on a soft smile. Then you entered the room.

Sitting on the bed was a man in the best sense of the word. You hadn’t known what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t this. He was quite tall and broad, with a dark crop of curls and a large nose, which sat right above a neatly trimmed mustache. He had on a simple white and blue striped button-up and black pants. You could see the vest that he’d taken off and laid on the chair was made of a soft red velvet, with golden chains attached. Oh my. 

“Hello,” he greeted you, smiling a bit. He seemed just a tad nervous. It was clear he was older, maybe in his forties. Was he married?

“Hello sir,” you replied softly, closing the door behind you. You padded over and took off your shoes. “‘S nice to meet you.” You told him your name.

He repeated it, lips curling a bit. “I’m Dutch.”

Even him smiling couldn’t soften the serious look on his face. His brown eyes were rather dark, and his brow was heavy and thick. You felt both anxious and drawn in by them.

“What would you like me to do, Dutch?” you asked, sitting on the bed beside him. You placed your hand on his large, grizzled one with practiced ease.

He cleared his throat. “I-I must apologize, I’ve never hired a prostitute before.”

You smiled. “That’s alright, sir.” Pulling him in closer, you gently pressed your lips against his.

Dutch, seemingly unsure for a moment, hesitated, then returned the kiss. His mustache tickled your nostrils as he softly kissed you.

Your fingers became intertwined with his, and he grew more bold, cupping your face with his free hand and kissing you more earnestly. The cold metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

Quite rapidly, Dutch took control, pushing you down onto the bed and slipping his tongue into your mouth. You sighed softly, liking how direct he was now. The bedframe creaked quietly with your combined weight.

 Dutch’s tongue explored your mouth for a good while, and his hands traveled from your face to your chest. He gently squeezed your left breast, running a thumb over the fabric protecting your sensitive nipple. Within a minute he had teased them both to stiff peaks, with you mewling quietly underneath him.

Finally, Dutch broke the kiss. You both took a moment to catch your breath and he wiped off his mouth.

His demeanor had changed a lot. Now his face seemed even more serious; his pupils reflected lustful thoughts, and he carried himself more confidently.

“I’d like a blowjob, love,” he requested, sighing. “I need to relax. Will you do that for me?”

You weren’t sure when this shift in dynamic had happened. Perhaps when he’d pushed you onto the bed. Now, you sensed that this was a powerful man, one who was used to getting what he wanted. Suddenly you were craving to satisfy him, to fulfill his hidden desires. 

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

He’d wasted no time in removing his clothes. You slipped out of your dress and bloomers while Dutch stripped naked as well, putting all his clothes in a neat pile on the chair. Then he got back on the bed, laying down with his legs spread wide enough for you to lay between them. His muscular chest was covered in dark hair, with a nice thick happy trail down to his groin.

As you got in position, you surveyed his cock and your eyes got big. He was very large, with veins running prominently up the shaft to his tip, flushed red and already leaking precum, and down to the thick mess of hair around his base. His balls were nicely rounded and large as well.

His cock was already mostly hard; it was slightly curved, and stuck out so his leaky tip was mere inches away from your lips.

Holding your breath, you grasped his thick cock between your index finger and thumb, gently massaging a small spot on his tip.

Dutch inhaled sharply and threw his head back, running a hand through his shiny black curls.

With one hand, you cupped his balls, and with the other you held his cock at the base and dragged your tongue over his tip. You could feel the muscles of his thighs tightening. He let out a shaky breath.

“That’s a good girl,” he mumbled, eyes closed. “A good fuckin’ girl.”

You continued to lick his tip and shaft and massaged his balls. Your nail very gently grazed the sensitive skin.

Dutch’s hand shot down and he roughly stroked your hair, sighing. “That feels so good, sweetheart, keep going.”

The rhythmic hair stroking felt good. You laid your head on his thigh and sucked on just the tip, slobbering over it good and slowly pumping your hand up and down.

“Yes, babygirl, that’s good,” he moaned. “You know just what daddy likes. So good. So good.”

Dutch’s praise made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, like he was really truly proud of you. No one had been proud of you in a long time.

You doubled your efforts and took more of his cock in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around, putting plenty of spit on his throbbing cock.

Drool was dribbling out the sides of your mouth and oozing down Dutch’s shaft. Removing your mouth from his cock with a small pop, you instead took one of his balls in your mouth.

Dutch groaned loudly, pulling at your hair just a bit. “Oh-ho, you filthy girl…”

You sucked on his balls, switching between them and continuously jerking him off with your hand.

“Oh, honey, this is just what I needed. A good tight cocksleeve to blow me…” He moaned and spread his legs a bit more.

You rapidly swept your tongue across them, back and forth, till Dutch's legs came together and squeezed the sides of your face. You let go of his balls, now drenched in spit, and slurped up his cock again. You couldn’t get enough. It almost had a taste to it, sort of masculine and heavy. Whatever it was, you were addicted. As you coaxed about three quarters of Dutch’s shaft down your throat, you looked up at him in admiration. His eyes were still tightly closed, and the outline of a vein had appeared on his forehead. 

Deepthroating this older man’s cock had set a fire in you that you didn’t know existed. You wanted him to keep calling you a good girl. His good girl.

Suddenly he opened his eyes and you made direct eye contact. You ducked your head down, embarrassed at your no doubt obvious display of affection.

Dutch smirked. “S’okay, honey, nothing to be ashamed of. You’re obsessed with daddy’s cock, huh?”

You nodded sheepishly.

He stroked your face. “You need a daddy to take care of you, love you?” he asked in a husky voice.

Your face burned. He’d seen right through you. Was it that obvious that you were starved of affection? You nodded, again, still sucking lewdly on his cock.

He chuckled. “Oh, I know. I know, sweetheart. So many girls like you, laying down for any excuse of a father figure they can find. S’not your fault.”

When did this become so…real?

“You want that?” Dutch asked, squeezing your ass. “You want me to protect you, teach you right from wrong, make every decision for you?” His voice softened. “Want daddy to take the hurt away?”

His cock slipped out of your mouth and you stared at him, heart pounding so fast you thought your chest would burst into a million butterflies. “Yes,” you whined in a tiny voice that you didn't recognize. “I-I want to be your special girl…”

What is going on? 

He pushed your head back onto his throbbing cock. “Don’t think about anything anymore,” he said in a low voice. “Not your job, not your future, not even what to eat. Daddy’ll do it for you. The only thing that should be in your brain is being a good cocksleeve for daddy.”

You were struggling to remember what had led up to this moment. You faintly remembered being obligated to do this, for payment, but…

Wordlessly, you nodded. Whatever happened in the past didn’t seem that important compared to being an obedient girl for Dutch. He felt warm, and comforting, like a dependable authority figure. You clung to him desperately.

Dutch shifted positions so he was laying on his side. You laid down with him with your head on the blanket.

He held your head in place and pistoned his hips, shoving his cock in and out of your drooling mouth.

“Damn— I’m close, honey, daddy’s close. You’re going to swallow every drop, you hear me?” Dutch growled, pulling your hair so tightly you whined in pain.

You tried to nod but he was fucking your face so violently that all you could do was take it, and try not to pass out. Every thrust made you gag.

It was unclear how long he fucked your face for. You did know that you were drooling freely, all over his cock and the blanket. And that his cock was twitching in your mouth, signaling the load you knew was coming.

‘Fuck— fuck-” Dutch grunted, using your face as if it was nothing more than an inanimate object, sparing no thought on how you felt.

But how you felt was indescribable. It felt like you were finally healing some part of you that died when your father had left, years ago. You weren’t sure if this was roleplay or real life and you didn’t know if you cared, you just wanted to be his girl. Dutch’s girl. 

Finally, he slowed, pushing in a couple more times, then held your hair tightly and let out fractured groans as his cock let out thick, warm splurts of cum down your throat. He fucked your throat with tiny thrusts, emptying his balls and rapidly filling up your mouth.

After a brief pause Dutch pulled out of your mouth, smearing the leftover cum on your cheek. He was breathing heavily and wiped off his sweaty forehead.

Your cheeks bulged with his load, and it took you several gulps to down it all. Then you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue for him to see that you had swallowed it all.

He inspected it, putting a thumb in your mouth, then patted you on the head. “That’s my good girl.”

Dutch wanted to cuddle afterwards.

He insisted on cleaning you up and wiped up your face with a damp rag. After that he removed the stained bedspread, then pulled you up to lay in his arms. The two of you sat there for a while, you with your eyes half closed and Dutch tracing circles on your knuckles.

You could hear his soft breaths, and feel the rise and fall of his chest. If you never moved again, just stayed stuck in this position for all eternity, you would be happy, you think.

After a few minutes of silence, he spoke. “I wish I could have someone like you at home.”

“Are you married?” you asked curiously. You always felt vaguely bad about sleeping with married men.

He sighed. “Well- no. I never was. But I had a woman…not long ago.”

Was this a sensitive subject for him? “D-Did she, err…”

“She betrayed me,” Dutch said in a low growl. “Took everything we had together, and fuckin’ destroyed it.”

“Oh,” you said wondrously, not quite understanding what he meant. Did he mean she cheated?

He stroked your hair. “I came here because my whole…ahem, family…has been in shambles lately…no one respects authority anymore. No one appreciates the work I put in.”

How could anyone not respect this reverential figure? “How could they do that to you?” you wondered.

“I wish I knew, sweetheart. If only everyone was as obedient as you..” Dutch pressed a kiss to your temple.

You sighed softly. What insane woman had squandered her relationship with him? He was so polite, so serious, so warm. 

She probably just couldn’t handle his intensity.

The two of you relaxed for a few more serene minutes, then Dutch sighed. “I should probably get goin’, honey. As ungrateful as my acquaintances are, they’d be nothing without me. Nothing.” 

Despite his words, he didn’t move. His hand squeezed yours and he furrowed his brow. “I just can’t win. They say I’m too harsh, too controlling. But that’s what it takes to survive! Every fuckin’ day, I put my own needs aside for them. And not one of those…those people appreciates it.”

“That sounds awful,” you agreed. “It sounds like you do so much for them, but no one notices.” You knew that feeling well.

“You’re damn right they don’t,” Dutch grunted. “I don’t even know why I try sometimes.”

“Well…I appreciate you,” you told him shyly.

Dutch smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart. I might have to come back to see you again.” He planted a final parting kiss on your mouth, squeezed your ass again, then rose and got dressed.

You sat on the bed and watched him, already missing his warm body. Dutch’s words about his family seemed harsh, but then it was a cruel world. It made sense to be a little cruel in return. 

After he redressed himself, Dutch came over. “Here’s a little extra, baby. For letting a tired man rant.” He pressed a few bills into your hand.

“Th-thank you,” you squeaked, very pleased. 

“Take care,” he said, and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.

Once he left, you flopped back down, exhilarated and anxious. What in the world just happened? Did he mean anything he said? Was it just a kink he’d wanted to try out?

Your underwear was soaked through; they had been, for some time. Whether or not he’d meant them, Dutch’s words had affected you greatly. And now you were feeling the loss, a great grief that had cracked your heart open, and despair was pouring out. 

Already, you wanted to see him again, to learn everything about him. The concept of letting that man make every decision in your life and simply existing as his pet…well, that turned you on more than you cared to admit. You’d been independent for most of your life, and didn’t you deserve something for it? Didn’t you deserve a strong, handsome man to shield you from the horrors of the world?

You’d forgotten to ask him about his occupation. Perhaps he was the head of a railway company, or a well-respected professor. With that demeanor and elocution, he had to be in some prestigious position. 

I’ll ask next time, you decided.

After arriving back at your private room, you laid down and finished what had started between your legs. As you desperately rubbed yourself to orgasm, you imagined Dutch’s deep, rich voice growling in your ear, and your pussy being stretched to its limits by his thick cock. Very quickly, you came, gasping softly.

Dutch had said he’d be back. You would wait, with bated breath, till that day. Perhaps if you were a good enough girl for him, he’d take you with him. Stranger things had happened. Powerful men married their mistresses all the time. 

These dreams would keep you afloat until the next time you saw him. 

[avensthetic]

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇, 𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇

︴INFO : aventurine x reader, fluff, angst if you squint, churin is implied to do shady stuff for a living, the usage of doll and princess as an endearment

︴SYNOPSIS : in which aventurine is your friendly neighborhood spiderman, and your classmate...

aventurine hadn't just tangled with the interastral peace corporation tonight—he'd been dragged through the dirt by them. or at least, it felt that way. every inch of his body throbbed in testament to their relentless fighting. still, he held on to a smirk, as cocky as ever, as he stumbled towards his dingy apartment. 

then he crashed. not the graceful dive through his own window that he'd initially intended, but a full-body slam through a neighboring one. glass shattered, raining down like startled confetti and adding more cuts to his already battered body—not fun. 

"well, well, what do we have here?" he forced a grin, ignoring the way his muscles screamed. instead, his eyes landed on you, his startled classmate, now staring wide-eyed at the city's friendly neighborhood spiderman hanging upside-down from your ceiling. 

"don't even think about—" words caught in his throat. this was bad. he guarded his identity with more fervor than some guarded state secrets. carelessness like this could spell disaster. 

"i wouldn't dream of it!" you held your hands up, a mix of alarm warring on your face as he dripped blood on your clean bedroom floor. "um, are you okay though? because that looked incredibly unpleasant. and get off my ceiling please."

"just peachy, sweetheart." his usual flippancy was edged with a strain he hoped you wouldn't notice. "don't need your pity."

the mask of the carefree hero was a second skin, but beneath it, exhaustion threatened to drown him. you saw something, a flicker of pain in his eyes and the way his normally playful grin you’ve grown used to see in class had tightened. 

"hey, how about we get you out of those tights and take a look at those bruises?" your voice was soft, laced with a concern that made his chest tighten for reasons beyond the fight. 

before his usual defenses could kick in, he found himself sitting on your couch, ridiculously domestic for the guy who was known as a vigilante. the first-aid kit you brought seemed more like a child's tea party set compared to the injuries he sported, deisgned only for small cuts and burns. but your touch... it was careful, surprisingly tender for someone who, by all rights, should be freaking out right now. and you made work with what little first aid kit you have on hand, not for banged-up heroes.

"you get yourself into a lot of trouble, don't you?" your fingers tracing the edge of a nasty cut on his arm were light and ticklish, preventing him from succumbing to his body’s injuries.

"keeps life interesting," he deflected, the ever-present grin faltering slightly. the truth was far uglier –  the shady deals to keep his family afloat, the constant fear of exposure, the ache of loneliness that even saving the day couldn't quite erase.

that night became the start of something. your apartment became a sanctuary for aventurine after every fight. you, with your warm smiles and soft voice, lulled him into unfamiliar safety. his visits were stolen moments of peace amidst the chaos that is his life. you mended wounds, offered quiet company, and never pried too deeply into the secrets lurking behind his laughter.

then came your birthday. classmates showered you with attention, with gifts overflowing your desk. aventurine waltzed in late and messed up as usual, yet he was always the very picture of nonchalance with a hint of mischief in his grin. “morning, doll,” was all he said before he slumped to his seat.

 a pang of something like disappointment needled at you. you thought…well, you weren't even sure what you expected. a greeting. that was all you wanted, but aventurine merely went on with his day, teasing you like usual. he wasn’t obligated to, of course. but his greeting was the only thing that would’ve mattered and make your day.

in a blink of an eye, night came.

you looked at the clock…midnight is creeping in, and no text or even a call from aventurine. you let out one last disappointed sigh before ultimately settling on the bed in your pajamas. then, your notifications blared, with it came a familiar tap at your window. "ready for a birthday adventure, princess?" his voice held a teasing lilt that sent a familiar shiver down your spine.

before you could reply, you were wrapped in his arms, the world tilting as he leapt skyward. wind whistled, laughter bubbled in your throat—he did remember! and for once, the city lights felt magical rather than lonesome. he landed atop a skyscraper with practiced ease, a dazzling grin still fixed on his face.

"happy birthday, doll." a flick of his wrist and the night sky erupted in color. fireworks painted fleeting constellations, just for you. spectacular, and yet… intimate.

"this is…" words seemed to vanish in the glittering night. 

"don't get too mushy on me, yeah?" he gave a cocky smirk, the teasing mask back in place, but you saw the faint flush to his cheeks, akin to embarrassment perhaps. aventurine, the boy who traded in bravado, who hid his vulnerability with extravagant gestures, had given you the most precious gift: a glimpse of kakavasha that aventurine so heavily guarded.

𝐌𝐀𝐒����𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 !

[possessionisamyth]

Not to kick a dead horse, but there is a way to make Pier's death genuinely very loaded and tragic that fandom consensus just seems to continue to miss! I've never seen a take about Piers's death being about PIERS, but all about "ooohh chris lost a good one" and how the two are not able to fuck anymore. But I am going to free you from these shackles while I zero in on Chris' comment of

"I wanted him to replace me."

Surely Piers was being trained to take Chris' job ideally after a decent retirement party, but neither of them get that luxury because Edonia happens, and Chris is gone. The beloved captain has vanished, and the person who's supposed to take his job is right there, so they give it to him. It's Piers responsibility to not only be a face of what the BSAA represents, but also the heavy shackles of expectations are slapped onto him.

Everyone wants Chris, which means Piers can't be himself nor figure out how to run the same jobs his way. No, it has to be Chris' way. There's no time for anyone to adjust and shift gears either with the C-Virus outbreaks, the terrorist attacks from Ada*(Carla), and the search party he shambled together to locate the missing Redfield. So he tries his damnedest to fill Chris' shoes and suddenly realizes just how out of his depth he is. There were so many reasons people called Chris for certain tasks, even tasks Piers hadn't known about and definitely hadn't been trained on, that Piers never saw. There's no mentor to dial. No reference other than fellow soldiers saying things like, "We don't know how, he just got it done," which is the least helpful thing in the world. Hell, there's barely any notes to go through when he searches Chris' office for a semblance of a hint as to how he should do this job.

Maybe it turns out Chris was doing his best to gently ease that heavy mantle into Piers' hands. It's why his scheduled retirement seemed so far away at the time. Perhaps, after one comment too many where he'd been accidentally addressed by the name of his captain for the 50th time, Piers breaks. He can't do this. He's not ready for this. He needs the one person who did all this back by any means necessary, so he drops all the work and joins the search party. He verbally harasses an amnesiac Chris into coming back because maybe it isn't that bad. Maybe Chris just needs a reminder of what he's been doing everyday for literal years and things would be back to normal again.

But it's not. It's messier. It's uglier. This isn't the Chris he worked so hard to fight alongside. There are glimpses of him in there, but most of the time in China, Piers feels like he's working with a stranger. People die, and Chris keeps pushing forward no matter how much he's shouted at, and Piers feels like this is all his fault. The deaths are his fault because he couldn't buckle down and do what Chris originally wanted him to do. Take Chris' place. Replace him. Be better than him.

So when they go to that underwater facility, and their backs are against the wall, there's the looming sense of failure and a terrifying amount of pressure. If they get out of this alive, who knows when Chris would be back in shape to work again if that ever happens. Piers would have to be responsible. He was already responsible for the squad he gathered to take up this job, and they were skewed into pieces around downtown Lanshiang. Take Chris' place. Replace him. Be better than him, and Piers failed on all accounts. He couldn't get Chris back the way he was supposed to be. His squad was dead. The responsibility he'd have to take up if they made it out alive would be nigh unbearable, and then he gets infected.

He gets infected and suddenly the decision is so easy. To let go. To hope for the best. To be the one left behind when he was supposed to be the one moving towards the future. Another glimpse of the Chris that Piers knew is seen, a more confident glimpse wherein Chris does everything he can to try and save him. And Piers smiles when Chris fails. When he saves Chris. When he seems to finally do one thing right after things never seemed to stop falling apart.

It's the last thing Chris sees. That smile and the ever encroaching weight of immeasurable responsibility that'll grasp him tight as soon as he breaks the surface. The weight Piers couldn't take from him, and maybe never wanted in the first place.