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#I wasn't going to publish this here

holocene-sims · 9 months

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story queue

hiiiii it's me again

and it's finally time to restart the story queue!

i'm in my final year of uni (hallelujah) and starting classes this week, which makes this a perfect time to post again! i won't have time to make many new posts, so i'll just release all the ones i've been working on :)

as per usual, two posts per day at 8:00 and 9:00 pm eastern time <3

#i hope y'all enjoy the upcoming queue!#i think it's pretty good tbqh #also this time i'll be around to reply and all that!#last time i had a queue i wasn't here to log in and check things!#btw i kind of don't trust the tumblr queue anymore so i'll have to keep checking to make sure it publishes correctly #does anyone else have the bug where the queue says all posts will go up on the same time at the same time?#holocene.txt

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rythyme · 2 years

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theo do you know any other thai bls similar to bad buddy? their dynamic was amazing

omg yes!!! bad buddy is so good 😭 i do have a rec list i made a while back with a few shows that have some similar elements and vibes. In that list I rec He's Coming To Me, A Tale of Thousand Stars, I Told Sunset About You, We Best Love, and Like in the Movies. Those are all still VERY solid choices, and you can check out the list for more details on those, but I also have a few more recs to add...

Semantic Error (Korean, 8 episodes): An annoying design major and a repressed computer science major butt heads over a group project. Feelings ensue. Enemies to lovers. Probably in my top 5 this year.

Kiss Me Again: PeteKao Cut (Thai, 3 episodes? clips?): Two guys in the same friend group accidentally kiss. You'll never guess what happens next. Also Tay Tawan is there. Frenemies? to lovers

Blueming (Korean, 11 episodes): The handsomest guy at school is annoyed when another equally handsome guy starts stealing his thunder. A touching and surprisingly deep love story unfolds. Rivals to lovers.

Lovely Writer (Thai, 12 episodes): A writer's Y novel gets adapted into a show. One of the actors has a crush on the writer. Similarities to Bad Buddy are spoilers but trust me: this show is much better than it has any right to be. Bonus for wlw side character.

The Eclipse (Thai, 12 episodes, currently airing): A prefect and the school rebel get intertwined in a rivalry / flirting war while a mysterious supernatural curse looms over their school's political revolution.

Honorable mentions: KinnPorsche and Not Me because I personally like them and if you're looking for insane chemistry, well... these might be the only ones that rival whatever magic Nanon and Ohm had going on.

#also i know you asked for thai dramas but i did include kdramas here too. we've had a few really good ones lately #Re: kiss me again. GMMTV officially published the cut for just these two side characters so you don't have to watch the rest.#i watched the first series and i don't think it was worth it #thai drama #lgbt drama #ask theo #i didn't include lovely writer in the first list but i did agonize over it. wasn't sure if it would be too... BL-y?? you know???#but it is a really good show. kinda mad that it's so good bc they really did not need to go that hard

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bronzewool · 10 months

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Final Fantasy VII: Traces of Two Pasts by Kazushige Nojima is a novel exploring the backstories of Aerith and Tifa, two party members you acquire early on in the game.

Traces of Tifa starts with a young Tifa in the small village of Neibelheim, playing with the other boys her age (minus Cloud) and reconciling over the knowledge their childhood is coming to an end as each boy is already making plans to leave and follow their future career paths. The boys try to cheer her up by promising to write to her, but it soon becomes clear to her that everyone has already decided she will marry one of these boys without bothering to ask her opinion. After Cloud and the other boys leave for Midgar, she becomes lonely and has no direction in life until a wandering material artist, Rashard Zangan, shows up, scouting for students to join his dojo, and finding the perfect pupil in Tifa. Throwing herself into her training, she proves to be skilled in the art form and even starts teaching a morning class for the other villagers. Fast forward to the Neibelheim Incident, where Tifa lost her father and is mortally wounded by Sephiroth, she wakes up in a Midgar hospital that managed to save her life, but she no longer has a home or any means of paying her medical bills. The doctor's son, Rakesh, also a student of Zangan, sets her up with a room in one of the slum container rows, and a job working at a steamed bun cart. Although Tifa is grateful for the help, she is still in the process of mourning the loss of her home while recovering from a near-fatal stab wound and yet still expected to work off her heavy debts. During her time living in the slums, we see how she met Barret, and the rest of Avalanche and would eventually become the bartender of Seventh Heaven.

The segment has a well-paced coming-of-age story of Tifa having no control over her life, and becoming the confident kickboxer and math-savvy bartender we meet at the beginning of the game. The story is slow in several areas, the major one being the attention to detail it goes into regarding her workout routine (to the point it starts feeling like an actual textbook) and her work rota at the food cart and preparing the bao buns (which starts feeling like an actual cookbook). Other than that it has a satisfying twist near the end with how Tifa manages to get out of debt and find a supportive community that becomes her newfound family.

The only minor complaint I have with this story is how little Zangan is in it, considering he is meant to be Tifa’s sensei, but he is only shown teaching her through textbooks that he leaves for her to study before disappearing for months at a time and returning to test her progress and handing her the next volume before disappearing again. This works in the context of the games as characters can level up by reading textbooks, but from a story standpoint, it's rather disappointing how little these two interact.

Traces of Aerith covers the timeline after Aerith and her mother escape Shina and hide in Sector 8 Slums, right before she dies and Aerith is adopted by Elmyra. The game briefly covers how Aerith and Elymra first met, but the book goes into greater detail about how they became a family and that it wasn't as smooth a transition as was implied. Elmyra's husband was a soldier who had been deployed during the Wutai War and was finally coming back home. Elymra would stand at the train station waiting for him with each passing day and on one such day, she finds Aerith weeping over the corpse of her mother and takes the girl in before Shinra finds her. Aerith is in the middle of mourning her mother and Elymra is overloaded with the responsibility of being a single parent while trying to maintain peace within her husband's business. Aerith's presence complicates things for Elmyra and they come up with a fake identity for Aerith which quickly backfires the more people learn of her existence.

The book tries to address minor details in the framing device of a polygon game and has various degrees of success while doing it. For example, Aerith's home is strangely bigger than the rest of the slums, with a two-story house and a garden filled to the brim with flowers. In the game, this area is heavily detailed because it's a set-piece that represents Aerith and the party spends quite a bit of time here. In the context of reality, this area makes no sense when just outside the gate the rest of Sector 8 is a shanty town. The book works around this by giving Elmyra a backstory where her father-in-law owned a construction company and stayed in the slums to oversee that company, as opposed to other businesses that would start a shop in the Slums and immediately abandon it once they earned enough to move onto the upper plate. Her father-in-law employed all those redundant employees and gained a lot of respect from the community for providing employment, hence why they live more lavishly in comparison.

My only complaint about Aerith’s segment in particular is how it glosses over major details in her childhood that fans were probably picking up the book to read about. We know the Turks have been spying on Aerith since she was a child, but they barely have a presence in this segment beyond one vital scene that needs to exist because it happened in the game and the climax where we can assume they saved Aerith’s life. Instead, we spend a lot of time setting up Aerith having a fake identity, and her panicking and using another girl’s name, and this somehow causes everyone to panic because two girls can’t have the same name I guess? (it's as stupid as it sounds and I don’t know why the book dives into this when we know Aerith uses her real name in the present timeline).

Is this book well written? Yes. Did it need to exist? No. There is nothing new we learn in this book that changes your worldview of the game or about Aerith and Tifa as characters. Hardcore fans will enjoy it but casual fans are not going to get anything out of it.

#charl's book journey #I wasn't gonna mention this part because it sounds nitpicky #but the lack of agency is a problem #not so much with Tifa because that's the point of her story arc #but with Aerith she's a little girl who is the pov of a war over the ownership of a family business #and because she's a child Aerith can only act as a spectator watching the adults argue #this might not be a problem here #but if this was a kid's book #the publisher would send it back #because you can't have a kids story where kid has no agency #even when hanging around other children Aerith doesn't move the plot #and that's a problem #she only has agency near the end and it backfires on her #as if trying to make the point #your mum hiding things from you and controlling what you do or where you go #was for your own good #so don't do that again ok sweetie?#fandom: ff7

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brown-little-robin · 2 years

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You’re asking me to cripple him? Me?!

[a draft-preview of Clone Six. Subject to change.]

Thad Six is my dearly beloved clone. Created by a bored villain who just wanted to watch a speedster wreak havoc, Six will be an antagonist in Strange Redemption. He is capable of enormous destruction—and he indulges himself. He believes that life is a game where the most powerful people have the most fun. As Inertia, he taunts the Flash family, creating destruction in various places to draw their attention and running away before they got close enough to confront him, dodging into unrelated fights just to create chaos. He is a master at escaping unscathed, leaving only the echoes of mean-spirited laughter behind him.

It comes as a shock to him to have his speed stolen.

Six is no stranger to injury, but he can hardly breathe when he realizes that he’s going to have to clean out the gravel stuck in his cheek. It lodged there, stinging, in that final fight with his genetic double, and his cheek will not fully heal. Ever.

Nothing can compare to the sheer power of a speedster, the sizzle-crack of lightning in their veins. The golden light of the speed force is the shine in their eyes. The speed force, with the souls of the dead, sings and whispers in the back of their minds. Six will long for the speed force for the rest of his life.

He wakes up that night with his cheek stinging, tears dripping salt into the gashes on his cheeks. It’s dark.

Six wakes up at 1:54 AM in a strange purple-swathed room in the house of his genetic double, and he thinks: I can’t do this.

He runs away six days later. Runs, not on the air, not with the wind in his face, not with the speed of lightning, but on a stinking, humid, crowded bus to Gotham City. He is surrounded by tired people, human beings, the scum of the earth, sweaty, miserable creatures. He takes a pile of pages he printed at the library, which his oh-so-generous genetic double allowed him to visit. The papers advertise a meeting of magicians on the night of the solar eclipse. That was six days ago, mere hours after he had his life ripped out of him.

He goes to the site of the solar eclipse meeting and asks around. Three bars later, after being treated like some kind of idiot child and being forced to out himself as Inertia five times in order to get any leverage, he finds a magician still lingering in town after the solar eclipse event. The magician sends him to another magician, who sends him to a witch, who sends him to an honest-to-god wizard.

By the time he reaches the hotel lobby where the wizard is supposed to be, Six’s feet are sore. His ego is sore too.

He knows by now that he was never all that special. He’s past that. His genetic double stroked his hair while he vomited into the toilet, and then he talked him through the aftermath of losing his powers in his excruciatingly gentle way. He took Six’s verbal abuse calmly. And then he named him Six, and that pretty much killed what was left of Six’s idea that he was unique. But people kept laughing at him in the bars and it hurt.

The armpits of his black t-shirt, the one item from his genetic double’s closet that he would deign to wear, are sweaty. Six is dead on his feet. He keeps trying to pull energy from the speed force and finding nothing. Like trying to drink from an empty bottle.

Speaking of which, Six should have brought water. He can’t just steal things anymore.

Six sits down on a bench in the lobby and waits until the wizard comes out of his room.

The wizard looks very normal. Hooked nose. Greying hair. Dingy jeans. A single black earring. Six wouldn’t have recognized him if he hadn’t answered to “Mr. Marzhin” as he dropped off his keys at the lobby desk thing.

The wizard turns to the doors. Six intercepts him.

“Wizard Marzhin—”

“Don’t tell me,” the wizard says, sounding utterly bored. “You just lost everything.”

Six flushes. This guy thinks he’s entitled to drone you just lost everything like it’s the most cliche thing in the world—it’s been a horrible enough week already—

To his horror, he starts to cry.

The wizard sighs. And then Six feels the wizard’s arms wrap around him, hugging him close. Wizard Marzhin smells like damp wood and mushrooms. He is very strong.

“Well, boy,” he says. “I don’t suppose you lost everything around the time of the last solar eclipse?”

Six nods as best as he can.

“Well, I guess I’m stuck with you,” the wizard sighs.

Wizard Marzhin teleports Six somewhere deep in a forest while Six is busy crying into his chest. He also gives Six a bulky kind of jacket with a furry collar and a cup of some kind of spicy drink which Six strongly suspects was drugged. Six started seeing little blue lights, then immediately fell asleep in a confusion of warm robes and blankets.

Wizard Marzhin serves fish roasted over a fire for breakfast. Six accepts that. It’s not like Six can do anything about it. He’s not a speedster anymore. And being stuck in a forest in a weird wizard’s cabin is better than being stuck in that awful ornate house with his genetic double.

Wizard Marzhin is not talkative. He lets Six follow him like a lost puppy that day, but he doesn’t speak to him at all. He doesn’t speak when they leave the cabin. He doesn’t speak as he gathers berries and mushrooms into a basket. He doesn’t speak when he starts scaling a slope barely better than a cliff. He barely even speaks when Six cuts his hand on a spiky root and has to stop for a while, more because of terror at the way the blood keeps slowly welling up than because he couldn’t move. The wizard just stands there with him and waits until Six finds it in himself to stand up and keep following him until he reaches his mysterious destination.

The destination is a tree, where Wizard Marzhin spends some time talking to an owl about, of all things, the owl’s hunting habits. Just chatting. Six watches him sourly. He walks for upwards of an hour to talk to an owl and he won’t say more than five words to Six?

But that night, back at the cabin, sitting by the fire, the wizard says he’s going to teach Six, and Six forgets his resentment.

“What kind of magic?” Six asks, staring eagerly at the wizard. In this firelight, the wizard looks more like a proper wizard; his blue eyes have a kind of sparkle to them.

Wizard Marzhin says, “What are you?”

Six stares. The wizard’s crooked nose casts a sharp shadow that dances unceasingly on his face.

“Huh?”

“Do you know what “wizard” means, boy?”

“What?”

“Wise man.”

“Okay, so?”

“So answer the question or I won’t answer yours, smart-alec. What—are—you?”

Six frowns.

“I’m... a clone.”

“And what’s a clone?”

“Do you live under a rock?” Six asks, incredulous.

Wizard Marzhin snorts. “Just explain it.”

“A clone is a copy of another person.”

“A copy,” the wizard says thoughtfully. “Is that all you are?”

Six winces. It’s not... not true.

“Well, well. You don’t have much of a sense of your own identity. Which could be good, of course... not getting too caught up in the particulars of things, keeping your eyes on the flow of nature... but then again,” he says, and his eyes flash at Six in a menacing kind of way. “If you’re just a copy, you have no substance to you.”

“Shut up,” Six hisses. “I do so.”

The wizard stretches his boots nearer the fire, sighing. The firelight flickers on his face. Six watches him resentfully until he can’t bear the quiet anymore.

“So what if I don’t have a great sense of identity? I can still learn magic. I’m smart.”

“Smart, smart, smart,” the wizard scoffs. “Everyone’s smart. No one’s wise.”

“Well how am I supposed to be wise? No one ever taught me.”

“Well put, boy,” the wizard says. “How indeed? Well... well. You’re going to have a magic by the end of the day. No time for you to have wisdom by then, of course.”

“Oh,” Six says, absorbing that. He is tremendously relieved that he won’t be left powerless. A magic, he’ll have a magic of his own by the end of the day... “Do you know that I’ll have magic the same way you knew that I lost everything?”

“Mm.” The wizard stretches his arms above his head with a yawn. “Mhm... so, boy, what magic do you want to start with?”

“I get to choose?”

“You’ll choose the first one,” the wizard says. “Or be chosen, more like. And it will be special to you forever. But the rest will come... all of it. That’s the way of a druid.”

Six says, “I’m going to be a druid? Like a nature... wizard... whatever?”

“Oh yes. Yes, clone-boy, you’re going to be a druid.” Wizard Marzhin gives one of his sharp glances. “If you don’t let that hate in your heart eat you up like a rotten apple. Then you’ll be a stunted little sorcerer with too much power and no control and someone will have to kill you.”

Six grimaces.

“So what’s it to be?” the wizard asks. “Your first magic... the thing that calls to you... what is it for you?”

Six thinks about it. He wants to ask for lightning, or light, or maybe wind: something that could give him back a connection to the speed force. He wants it so badly. But he knows with complete surety that he is never going to see the speed force again.

Six remains silent for so long that the wizard says, “For me, it was a hawk.”

“I don’t care for animals,” Six says honestly.

The wizard makes a groaning noise. Six ignores him, thinking. If he’s going to have every nature magic eventually, then what does it matter which one he initially picks? Only how it affects Six himself. And Six... his only comfort now is...

“Darkness. I want the dark.”

“The dark, boy?” the wizard says softly. “Be careful, now. Ask for too much, and you’ll go mad.”

“Not the dark in general, then,” Six says, a little alarmed at the idea of somehow owning all of the dark. He couldn’t handle that much. “Just... shadows. Some shadows. To have.”

“Shadows,” the wizard repeats. “You’ll tie yourself to them forever, you know, boy. Half your soul will be in your shadow.”

Six nods. It sounds good.

“You’re certain?”

“I’m certain.”

A cold wind comes up, pushing the flames nearly sideways—away from Six. Six shivers and pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders.

His cloak?

He looks down at his hands. He is holding a thick fabric of shadow. The dark garment wraps around his neck and has a weight on his back, pools insubstantially around his waist and trails thinly into the grass at the edge of the fire. His hands and shoulders feel the shadows thick and heavy, but the shadows fade away behind him.

He stretches them experimentally, and the cloak spreads out across the ground, darker, darker; the fire becomes the one light in the black expanse of the night. He pulls the shadows back to him and runs them along his arms, feeling the weight of them, and then flips them backward to extend from his back, making wide wings like a black angel. He feels like he could fly, or slip into the shadows and disappear; he has a sudden awareness of every beam of light on his face making him stronger and bigger. He grows. He spreads. He becomes very dark.

Six comes back to himself suddenly. He remembers that he’s a human being with a name. He’s shivering.

His shadow is laughing.

He tucks his shadows underneath his jacket. When he looks up, Wizard Marzhin is smiling at him from across the fire.

Six doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to run cold for the rest of his life.

#this is a complete mess of a story & will decidedly Not be in the polished version of this story #but hey it was fun to write! and kept me going during a busy time.#Strange Redemption spoilers #The Strange Redemption of Thaddeus Thawne #I've been making clones picrews for fun :)#and one of them turned into a full-blown mini-chapter #soooo.... no chapter this week.#I need to take another two weeks to plan and write the next chapter because of Difficulties with Joseph's mom (WHY IS SHE SO HARD TO WRITE)#BUT there's this!#I wasn't expecting to have anything to publish this week #but this came to me last night so... here it is!!!#I do love Six.

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paganinpurple · 1 year

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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

#ao3 #using ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanworks

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heartshapedmisery · 18 days

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𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

#art donaldson #art donaldson smut #mike faist #challengers #scarlet was here!#mike faist smut

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seananmcguire · 11 months

Text

Hey, writers.

You are not morally superior to tradpub authors because you go indie. You are not morally superior to indie writers because you go self-pub. You are not morally superior to self-pub writers because you go trad. There is no means of publishing that completely removes you from a system designed to devour its own young, just different means of being eaten.

I am a tradpub author. This means I get paid rarely, by corporations that will take any excuse they can find not to pay me at all. It also means my books are not dependent on my having the personal executive function to design them, format them, commission cover art, and post them for sale. There is so much effort in self-pub. I have sold books to indie presses. I experienced most of the same issues I did in tradpub, just magnified, and with big buckets of guilt poured over any complaints, because suddenly I wasn't asking a big corporation for my money, I was asking Susan, who had bills and a sick cat and needed a new roof.

Tradpub is the way to go if you don't have the skills/energy/function to do all the work yourself. Indie is the way if you're willing to give up some control in order to talk to Susan instead of AuthorBot #87. Self-pub is the way to go if you want to know everything is done the way you want it.

Please stop trying to make the way someone publishes into a moral judgement. We're all just trying to survive here.

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neil-gaiman · 4 months

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Hi Mr Gaiman! I come here in hope of getting some sort of advice if possible. ♡

A month ago one of my teachers offered me to be a part of a writing contest, and I accepted. So I spent the next weeks writing, in my point of view, a good story. In the details of the contest it said that the tale was supposed to be 10 pages long, and it is 10 pages long. The problem here comes when I change the settings of the document to what the contest asks for and the 10 pages turn into 16 pages.

And I've tried to change parts of the story and delete some things, but it's gotten to the point where its going to lose all sense if I keep deleting stuff.

The contest closes in two days, and I've been feeling extremely down and I'm so disappointed, because I fell that all my effort was for nothing and that it's completely worthless now.

I don't know what to do or if I should try and rewrite it completely, or just let it go and maybe try next year. What would you do in my place?

Thank you for reading. <3

I'd be very grumpy.

When I sold my first story (it was called Featherquest) I was overjoyed by the acceptance letter and also destroyed by it. It said that they would love to publish the story, but I needed to cut it from 8,000 words to 4,000 words.

So I did. I was convinced I had destroyed my story, but they published it.

Many decades later I published the original story, and suspected that it wasn't made any worse by being cut in half.

I'd suggest talking to your teacher about what you did and see if they would be willing to work with you on editing it. Start scenes later, finish earlier, remove things you've already said, make fewer words work harder.

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kiwi-bitchez · 1 year

Text

Like Magic

Eddie Munson x Reader, 18+ mdni

Summary: Incredibly troupey enemies to lovers smut. The gang takes a trip together and a game of never-have-I-ever creates a new tension between you and Eddie. The classic "no one has ever made me come'' situation. A bit overused, but it still gets me every time. Hope y'all enjoy!

Warnings: afab reader, she/her pronouns, use of y/n, drinking (all characters are 21+), kind of Asshole!Eddie but not really, fingering, kissing, oral (m and f receiving), Eddie has a dick piercing because I said so, piv sex, unprotected sex, plz be safe irl this is just fanfiction, Eddie has big dick energy in this one, I said what I said, rough-ish sex but Eddie's def more of a soft dom here, a few pet names (princess, mostly), spelling/grammar mistakes, corny ending

Word count: 14k (oof… got a little carried away with this one besties)

Steve said it would be a getaway. A trip dedicated equal parts to celebrating Nancy's first big article getting published and to cheer Steve up after having been dumped by his most recent situationship. The former was the initial reason to take the trip but after finding out about Jessica or Jamie or whatever her name was you had a feeling the latter was the true motivator. Either way, Steve had found a cheap cabin up by a lake and had pitched the trip as a fun way to "get in touch with wilderness." You had a feeling it was going to be more drinking and board games than hiking and fishing, but that was fine by you.

It was nice to put in for the time off from work and have something to look forward to. A week away with your friends. And Eddie. It's not that you didn't consider him a friend... well, you didn't. But it wasn't for lack of trying on your end. You'd use the term friendly acquaintance. A person with whom you share several close friends but for some reason refuses to be friendly to you- that kind of friendly acquaintance. Okay, maybe the word friendly was a bit of a stretch.

There was an odd tension between the two of you that you couldn't quite figure out. When Robin had introduced you to her friends from high school, all staying very close over the years, you immediately hit it off with them, easily integrating yourself into their quirky dynamic. Even though Eddie sort of stuck out like a sore thumb among them, you never treated him any differently than you did Steve or Nancy. You liked that their group was so mismashed. You had made it a point to not to turn your nose up at him for any reason, expecting he typically got that reaction from those who didn't know him. At first you actually found him to be quite charming.

There was just a certain coldness he had towards you that you found off putting. Knowing what little you did about him, entirely through Robin's introductory ramblings, you could understand why he might be wary of new people. It was that you had put in an effort to get to know him and be friendly that had upset you when he didn't return the sentiment. Not only did he treat you with a certain dry curtness, but he seemed so warm and loving to everyone else. He'd ruffle Robin's hair, bear hug Steve, share a cigarette with Nancy when she was especially stressed and tell some long winded story that had her cracking up and forgetting why she was ever tense in the first place. You didn't expect immediate closeness, but a little bit of that warmth from him would have been nice.

The awkward tension between the two of you manifested as joking jabs that hit a little too close, sarcastic remarks and rolled eyes. If he was going to go out of his way to push your buttons, you had no problem doing the same. It never ruined the energy when you'd all hang out as a group, but it was an underlying feeling you could't ever seem to ignore, as much as you'd tried. So this trip was going to be a celebration for Nancy, a distraction for Steve, and a challenge for you.

The cabin really was a great find to credit Steve. You had all pitched in a little money to cover the expenses and were pleasantly surprised when you found out there were actually enough beds for all of you, a half decent kitchen, hot water, nothing special but certainly nothing to complain about either. You had access to a small dock and a beat up canoe, a little fire pit out back, the basic necessities for a half decent vacation. That, supplemented with the box of booze Steve had lugged up from the car and all of your excitement to let loose was sure to make for a good trip, if not at least a memorable one.

You had all scoped out the digs, poking around the shed outside and unloading all your stuff from the cars. You felt somewhat settled in and ready to slip into vacation mode right as the sun began to set. Steve and Nancy had taken care of bringing groceries for the week, unpacking a week's worth of dry pasta and snacks into the dusty pantry. Steve took it upon himself to cook a small meal for everyone in the kitchen, nothing fancy but still appreciated given the minimal kitchen setup, always the mom of the group. Eddie messily makes himself a rum and coke, offering Robin one as well and blatantly ignoring your presence. Not that you wanted a stupid rum and coke from him anyways. He hands her the drink and you avoid eye contact and push past him to fix a drink for yourself, quickly shuffling off to check if Steve needed any help in the kitchen.

"Too many cooks in the kitchen, y/n," Steve places his hands on your shoulders and backs you out of the small space, "go relax, I think I can handle boiling pasta by myself."

You were mostly trying to avoid the living room where Nancy, Robin, and Eddie were all settled, but Steve was right, the kitchen was far too small for you to be taking up space while he tries to cook for five. With a sigh you make the short journey over to the couch, wedging yourself next to Robin and quietly sipping on your drink, making a mental note to make the next one stronger. You easily fall into conversation, listening to Robin tell some story about when she and Steve used to work at an ice cream shop years ago, some exaggerated memory she kept referring to as "mint-chocolate-chip-gate," easily pulling laughs from all of you.

Hours later, empty plates scattered around the small makeshift dining area, a few more drinks in your system, you had hardly thought about Eddie at all. You'd managed to avoid his snippy remarks for the majority of the evening, both relishing in the good feeling of the start of a week off. It was always when you felt the tension slip away that it came back harsher than ever. The five of you crowded around the small table, playing cards shuffled into a messy deck. Robin had started a never-have-I-ever game, although childish, still fun and silly as none of you took things too seriously.

"Never have I ever," she searches her brain for something riveting, "faked an orgasm."

You and Nancy give her a fake-annoyed glance and take sips from your cups, not a huge surprise on anyone's part.

"Not fair Rob," you say, looking up from your cup, "just because you only have sex with women doesn't mean you have to target those of us unfortunate enough to be attracted to men." You and Nancy laugh.

"Sounds like the unfortunate ones are the guys you're sleeping with," Eddie mumbles. You shoot daggers from your eyes at him, "I'm just saying, how can you expect it to be any good if you're not being honest."

"Fuck off," you roll your eyes, "I'm sure you've been on the receiving end of more than one faked orgasm, Munson, it's kind of a universal truth for all women."

"Well I don't know if I'd say that-" Nancy interjects, "universal truth is kind of a big claim."

"Never have I ever," Steve interrupts, clearly trying to change the conversation, "accidentally poured salt instead of sugar into my coffee while on a first date and was too embarrassed to say anything so I just drank the salty coffee and suffered in silence."

"Oh my god," you burst out, everyone giggling, "that was such a pointed attack! I'm never telling you anything ever again!" You take a sip from your drink, being the only person in the group who has experienced that oddly specific situation.

"If you all are going to target me with the knowledge of friendship then I'm coming for all of your asses," you set down your drink and try to think of something that will surely get them to all drink, "Aha! I know, never have I ever had an orgasm during sex with a partner." Your mind was sort of still in the gutter from Robin's statement, and you knew for sure you'd get them all with this one, you knew that you were in a slim minority with that fact. It wasn't that you choose bad partners, well, that was sometimes part of it, but you just couldn't get to that place when someone else was doing it to you, only ever by yourself. You just figured it was a slight abnormality, and had resigned to a life of solo play and half decent but never truly fulfilling sexual encounters.

Steve groans, annoyed you brought the conversation back to the sexual topics he had previously steered the group away from, taking a drink alongside everyone else.

"Ha!" you gloat while everyone takes their long sips, "knew I'd get you all there. Keep trying to come for me with my oddly specific embarrassing stories and you'll all be sorry in the morning."

"I don't really think having a shit sex life is anything to brag about, y/n," Eddie snips at you.

"I'm not bragging, it's the whole point of the game to get people to drink, stupid," you shoot back, starting to regret revealing that level of personal information to him.

"Well maybe if you weren't so busy faking your orgasms you'd actually chill out for long enough to actually have one," he hurls back, the thick tension settling between the two of you.

"Jesus, Eddie, mind your own fucking business," you feel blood rushing to your face and your jaw tenses up.

"You were the one who brought it up, sweetheart," you hated how calm his voice still was, raising his hands up in fake defense, "never have I ever NOT made my partner come."

"Oh fuck off," your voice was seething, "you can't say that. There's, like, no definitive way to prove that's even true!"

"No, I'm pretty sure I know it's true," he was so fucking smug and it annoyed you to no end.

"OKAY," Steve breaks the awkward silence that had settled around the rest of the group, "I want to play cards, what do we think? Cards? Anyone?"

'Yeah, whatever,'' you felt bad if you had accidentally ruined the fun everyone was having, but it wasn't your fault Eddie decided to be such a dick about it. You help Steve shuffle the cards and start dealing, letting the heated energy dissipate around you as you wiggled your way back into normal conversation with everyone.

Several rounds of cards and a few drinks later the night took hold of the group and sent Nancy off to bed, Robin off to search for some advil that she knew she'd be grateful for in the morning, and Steve mostly asleep slumped in his chair at the table. You gently shook him awake and he grumbled a thank you and a goodnight as he dragged his body down the hall to his bed. This left you and Eddie with a half decent mess between the drinks, the aftermath of dinner, and the cards. He had started to gather the cards back into their deck while you debated on taking care of the dishes or putting it off until morning, ultimately deciding that tomorrow-you would be very thankful if tonight-you sucked it up and just cleaned up now.

"I got the rest," you start picking up everyones mostly empty cups and moving into the kitchen to tackle the mountain of dishes. Jeez Steve, how many pots does it take to boil pasta for five people? "Night, see you tomorrow," you say without turning back to look at Eddie.

He came up next to you and grabbed the dry towel off the counter, taking the soapy cup from your hand and wiping it away before stacking it on a clear part of the countertop.

"You wash, I'll dry, yeah?" he's already moved onto the next plate you had sponged down.

"It's really fine Eddie, I've got it," you appreciate the sentiment, but didn't like feeling so cramped standing with him in the small kitchen.

"I have manners, you know," he makes a harsh gesture to the dishes, urging you to get on with washing, which you do, "plus I'm not gonna let you take all the credit for cleaning up after everyone, you aren't anyone's mother or maid here."

You weren't really sure how to take that, but decided to ignore it as you continued to scrub away, silently handing him the dripping dishes as you finished cleaning them.

"I know you don't really care for me," you start, feeling the need to fill the awkward silence between you, "but can we please not make Steve and them regret inviting us both? Like, I know you're capable of being civil. I just really don't want to spend this whole trip walking on eggshells worrying that we're ruining the fun. So, this is me apologizing for anything I do this upcoming week that pisses you off for whatever reason, just know I didn't do it on purpose, and it's not worth freaking out over. I'm just trying to have a good time here, that's all."

You really couldn't tell if you felt relieved or more anxious after saying all that to him. You meant it. You really didn't want to drag any unnecessarily tense baggage around with you while everyone was just trying to enjoy their trip. You wanted him to know this, at least to feel like the blame was off your back if he was a dick to you, at least you tried to clear the air on night one.

"What? Still got your panties in a bunch over that game?" you didn't have to look over at him to hear the smirk in his voice, "Because I remember you were the one getting all in a huff about it."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," you turn over sharply to look at him, "please just stop being such an asshole to me."

"Learn to take a joke, sweetheart," he had been drying the same mug for a little too long now, "that stick up your ass is probably the reason you can't reach the big O."

"Please, for the love of god, fuck off," you tried to not raise your voice too much given everyone's sleeping state, "What do you want me to say? Hmmm? 'Oh Eddie, I'm so jealous of all those girls you make come with your magical guitar fingers, oooooooooh, please pick me'." You roll your eyes and prepare to storm off to bed when his whole posture shifts in front of you.

"Magical guitar fingers? Hmmm?" he's really making you regret saying that, even sarcastically, you start putting the rags away, wanting to just finish up the dishes and get the fuck out of the kitchen. "You said it babe, not me."

"You're so insufferable," you bring your fingers to your temple, Eddie Muson manifesting as a special form of personal headache.

"This is exactly what I'm saying," he mockingly gestures to you, "you're the one always getting so worked up over nothing, I'm as cool as a cucumber, I think the problem might be you."

"Is everything a fucking joke to you? Can you really not be serious for three fucking seconds while I try to be straight with you about us getting along on this trip?" Your grip on the dish towel tightening.

"Me? Joking? About something so serious and romantic as having precious y/n her first orgasm with my 'magical guitar fingers' that she so obviously fantasizes about? I would never." He clasps his hands across his chest, always the fucking jester.

In a moment of white hot rage, and wanting to put him in his place, and only a tiny fraction fueled by your physical attraction to him, as much as you've tried to fight that off, you march the three steps in between the two of you and grab his wrist in your hand, holding his hand up in between the two of you.

'Fine, do it then," you maintain harsh eye contact with him, your faces only a few inches apart, "you won't. Better yet, I don't even think you could."

For the first time, you felt as if you had the upper hand, you had never rendered him speechless before. He always had some snippy comeback to everything you said, at a rapid fire pace that was honestly impressive given how subtly clever his remarks were.

"You wanna bet?" He cocks his head at you, trailing behind just a beat slower than he normally would.

You just raise your eyebrows and glance down at his hand, still in your grasp, lips pursed and voice secretly caught in your throat.

"You just say the word," he starts, voice slightly softening, "and I bet you that I can make you come using just this hand- scratch that, just these three fingers," he lowers his pointer and pinky, leaving his middle two and thumb sticking up, "in less than five minutes right here in this goddamn kitchen."

"Yeah, for what?" were you seriously considering this? Why were your thighs clenching together?

"I make you come, and not only do I get to live in your memory forever as the first idiot who had the sense to make you finish, but you're gonna be so sweet to me the rest of the trip. Make my drinks, fetch my lighter, roll all my joints with those cute little dexterous fingers of yours, be nothing but pleasant and lovely without the slightest hint of attitude." His words made you fume, but you were also inexplicably turned on, his breath fanning across your face as he spoke sending tingles down your spine.

"And when you can't, what then?" you tried to match his level of composure, but the gleam in his eye told you that he saw straight through your facade.

"If-" he starts, "you manage to hold out on me and I can't get that pretty pussy of yours to gush all over my super magical talented guitar fingers, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the trip. We never bring it up again, or you can tease me about it for the rest of our lives, totally up to you. But I'll be so civil and polite you'll hardly recognize me the rest of this trip."

You let your grasp fall from his wrist, holding your unsteady hand out to him to shake, "Deal."

He truly thought you were bluffing up until this point. When you had first met he had been impressed with how sharp you were, how you managed to meet his level of sarcasm so easily. At least he thought you had been sarcastic, after a few fumbled interactions he got the vibe that you weren't joking around with him in the jabby-playful way he was. If he was honest wit himself, he knew he sort of used this as a defense mechanism when meeting new people. Put up the walls and if they didn't like him, that was just fine.

The tension in the air was as thick as it had ever been between the two of you. You refused to break eye contact, refused to let him win. As much as you'd like to think this would be an easy way to put an end to his snarky attitude, there was no denying that a large part of you was excited, if not intrigued at the prospect of him touching you like that. Eddie was hot, you had never denied that. But the butterflies in your stomach and slight buckle of your knees indicated a little bit more than surface level attraction.

Breaking the handshake he takes a few purposeful steps forward, backing you against the nearest counter. He places a hand on either side of your body, caging you in, leaning his head down to speak directly into your ear, voice low and raspy.

"We doing this, babe? You say the word and I'll let it go now, but otherwise I'm gonna need you to unbutton those cute jeans for me."

There was no way in hell you were turning back at this point. You try to give him your best 'fuck you' expression and say, "Can't even unbutton my pants, how the hell are you gonna make me come?" Regardless, you follow his request and unbutton your pants, and better yet, slip them down your legs to let them pool at your feet.

You were still locked in between his arms against the counter, closer than you had ever been to him. As your pants hit the floor, you notice his gaze flicker down to get a look at you, then quickly back up to your face. All the while he had shifted over slightly, arm now fiddling with a dial on the stovetop. He was setting a timer, cocky bastard. He adjusts the stovetop cook timer to five minutes and casually hits the enter button, as if he had nothing to prove, as if the few extra seconds meant nothing to him.

He brings his attention back to you, knowing you were fully aware of the timer he had just set. Rather than plunging his hand straight into your already dampening underwear, his first move was surprisingly to bend down slightly and cup the backside of your knee, lifting one foot out of the pant leg that was scrunched around your ankles. From the crook of your knee, his hand slowly moved up your thigh, giving it a squeeze, acting as if he wasn't on any sort of time constraint. As promised, once he reaches your underwear he only uses one of the three promised fingers, running the tip of his middle digit along the top elastic of your panties, quirking an eyebrow, looking at you for one last assurance of consent before the two of you crossed the line. You give him a curt nod, knowing what his questioning glance meant, and with that he dips his hand into your simple cotton underwear.

Once again, you almost expected him to just shove his fingers inside of you and get on with it, but he took several long moments to run his middle two fingers up and down your slit, never entering your hole, but collecting some of your wetness and dragging it up to massage the hood of your clit gently. You wouldn't have been surprised if the oven timer went off at any given moment. It felt like he had been touching you for far longer than five minutes, despite only forty seconds having been passed. He continued to gently roll your clit between his fingers, placing one on either side of your bud and just letting them slowly massage it back and forth.

You were slowly losing control of your composure. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of any sort of reaction, but a shallow gasp that you were sure he noticed escaped you. You mentally prepared yourself for a comment from him, a chuckle or signature smirk. Eddie never shut the fuck up, you wouldn't have been surprised if that was true in the bedroom too, or in this case, the kitchen. What did surprise you was the breathy "Good girl, that's it" he mumbled into the side of your face as he increased the pressure of his fingers ever so slightly, "just like that, relax for me, doing so well."

Fuck.

Your body responded to his words before your mind could make the conscious decision to, and you melted back into the countertop slightly with an exhale. His foot wedged in between your legs slowly slid them open a bit more, letting his ripped denim clad leg settle in between yours, his hand sinking a bit lower and slowly entering you with just his middle finger. The hand that wasn't occupied with your pussy gently came down to toy with the band of your still-on underwear, gently tugging them down as he managed to slip his second finger into you.

"That's it," he began to curl them ever so slightly, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of him, "your pussy's so pretty, so good, sucking my fingers right in."

His two middle fingers were sunk all the way into you, and he was moving them in a way that had you involuntarily drop your jaw and let shallow whimpers out with every roll and thrust. This was entirely different than anything you had ever experienced before. Up until now, 'getting fingered' for you was an annoyingly uncomfortably forplay where your partner would shove a hand in and out too fast just to make sure you were wet enough to proceed with the act. Eddie wasn't even bringing his fingers out of you, he settled them in and wiggled them around until he noticed your breath catch, and just let them push into this spot that you didn't know you had. Your own fingers never could reach that deep and his were filling you perfectly, thumb toying with your clit, not too hard, but just enough to add to the sensation. Damn, he was good at this.

When his fingers finally hit that new spot inside you your body reacted with a subtle roll forward of your hips and your head fell back to rest against the cabinets, eyes fluttering shut on their own accord. "Mmm, there it is," his voice was still gentle against your ear as he continued to make you gasp and squirm, "anyone ever find this pretty little spot inside you before?" He let his fingers slide all the way out of you, spreading some wetness from your hole up to your clit with a few circular motions before sinking back down inside you.

You were biting the inside of your lip, no longer trying to hide your reactions from him, but trying to keep them quiet enough to not wake anyone in the cabin up. You wouldn't dare answer his questions out loud in your state, but you give him a quick shake of your head to indicate that, no, no one had ever touched you quite like this before.

"Such a fucking shame," he increased the pressure on your clit, not increasing speed at all, but just curling his fingers a little harder, swirling his thumb a bit more deliberately, "bet you'd make such gorgeous noises for me too, can't have anyone wake up and find us like this though, yeah? Those pretty little whimpers are for me only."

Why were his words doing more to you than his hands? Not that you had any complaints about the care and attention he was giving your center, but his face pressed so close to you, letting out sweeter words than you had ever heard from him, that was what was making your walls tighten around his two fingers. Your mind had completely slipped away from the timer, no longer questioning whether you had three seconds or three minutes left, all you could do was feel.

There was a soft squelching coming from where his hand made contact with your pussy, wetness coating his fingers and spreading to your thighs with each of his shallow thrusts. While you would typically feel a little embarassed, hearing your own arousal only turned you on more, that along with Eddie's soft "mmmm, that's it" and "good fucking girl."

You were starting to feel it, that familiar tightening. Familiar, but so different from when you got yourself there. It was the difference of jumping into water versus being pushed in. When you jump in yourself, you have time to build up the courage and the cold water is less of a surprise and more of an inevitability. This was as if someone had thrown you over their shoulder and could fling you in at any moment, entirely out of your control. You feel your head start to spin, your walls start to tighten.

Before you could let the tightening band in your lower half snap, any thought of purposely holding back and trying to not come for the sake of the bet was far gone, he takes his unoccupied hand and harshly tugs on your chin. Your head had started to roll back, pressing against the cabinets for support, eyes fluttering shut as you almost reached your peak. You were jolted back to reality as he cups your jaw and forces your head to stay upright.

"Eyes open," your impending orgasm teetering right on the edge, you would do anything he said in this moment, "you're going to keep your eyes open and look at me while I make you come." His words with a few more expert swipes of his thumb against your throbbing clit had you gasping for air. It was truly unlike any orgasm you had ever experienced.

You tried your best to follow his directions, keeping your eyes as open as you could, maintaining eye contact with him through your high as your mouth dropped open and your moans caught in your throat, silently shaking and thriving as the tension in your body eased out in waves of pleasure. His gaze burned into you, fingers keeping such a steady and consistent pace as you rode out your peak. Mumbled phrases escaped him and only made your orgasm last that much longer. Why the fuck was Eddie Munson calling you "pretty girl" making your legs shake? This shouldn't be happening. That had never been a turn on before, none the less coming from a man you typically found insufferable.

With the last pulse of your walls you found yourself acting on pure adrenaline, you completely blame the endorphins for your next action. His hand was still firmly planted on the side of your head and your thoughts were spinning so fast, you had to ground yourself, and your body decided that lurching forward and kissing Eddie was how you were going to do that. Fingers still slowly rolling inside of you, thumb now coming to rest on your overstimulated clit, he was taken aback by your action, but leaned into the kiss and swiped his wet tongue through your bitten swollen lips as you melted into him. As soon as you felt fully entangled in him, completely consumed by his hands, mouth, scraggly hair, all of him. You jerked back, quickly apologizing, "Fuck, uh, sorry, I-"

He slowly drags his hand out of your drenched thighs as you try to find words, bringing his two fingers up between his lips to suck them clean. You wanted to moan out at the sight but were still scrambling to figure out what the fuck just happened. He casually leans over and pauses the oven timer with a beep.

"Hey, 4:20, nice!" you roll your eyes at his immature comment, "we have forty more seconds on the clock, wanna go again?" he jokes.

You were so far beyond caring about this bet, you had way bigger issues to tackle than having to wait hand and foot on Eddie for the rest of this trip. You awkwardly pull up your wet panties and readjust your pants around your legs, not sure what to do or say.

"Was that good? Better than when you do it yourself?" he asks, sarcasm indetectable in his voice but you were sure it had to be there.

"Do you actually care to know or do you just want to hear me say it? Fine Eddie, you win. You have magical sex fingers and made me come in like three minutes, congratulations. It was great, the best orgasm of my life. You were right, you told me so."

"Well that's great to hear and all but I wasn't looking for an ego boost or anything, babe," his tone was lighthearted and you weren't expecting it, "I just know it's like wayyyy different for me when its my hand versus another person, not to mention the difference between all the holes and whatnot."

"Gross!" you laugh and scrunch up your nose, not noticing how he was pouring you a glass of water.

"I'm just saying!" He holds his hands up defensively as he silently hands the cup to you, "I've never experienced a female orgasm so I just wanted to know if it was any different than when you use the showerhead."

"Oh my god I-" you start, in between gulps of water.

"Oh, don't even start," he cuts you off, "we both know that all girls do that, don't try and be all shy with me now babe, I know what your 'oh' face looks like."

You feel a heat rise to your cheeks and you bury your gaze down into your almost empty glass of water. "Yeah Eddie, it was different and it was better. Your fingers rank higher than the jet setting of my shower head, do you want a trophy?" This sort of banter usually had a sharper edge to it between you, but there was a new softness and humor to the way you communicated. Maybe he was just being nice because he felt bad for you, because you were so desperate that you came from three fingers on a kitchen counter in less time than most top forty radio hits.

"I'm glad it was good for you," he says, almost sincerely, "night sweetheart." With that he turned around and exited the kitchen, keeping his composure all the way down the hall until he could burst into his room, rid himself of his clothes, and pull his cock at the thought of how you felt wrapped around his fingers, the little whimpers and noises you made, how you looked right at him as you came, how you kissed him afterwards.

You were left somewhat dumbfounded, standing in the middle of the kitchen with an empty cup in your hands, looking around as if something else was going to happen. You weren’t expecting him to invite you back to his bed for a cuddle or anything like that, but you had just experienced the most earth shattering orgasm of your life followed up by some joking conversation and a friendly cup of water? It just didn't feel right. Then again, who the fuck has their first orgasm from someone else while being timed.

You didn't regret it though. You actually felt a sense of relief. While you were pretty aware that your past sexual partners had been a bit selfish or underwhelming, a part of you had always wondered if that part of you was broken. If there was a part of your brain that would never let you reach that vulnerable state at the hands of someone else. That you would only ever trust yourself to let go and feel that kind of pleasure. Nope. Not broken. Definitely not broken.

You feel like you're in a trance as you walk back to your room, shower, slip into pajamas and drift off to sleep. You started to wonder how the energy would be between you and Eddie in the morning, but as soon as you gave it any thought your brain decided it was time to shut down. You'd deal with it when it happened.

Your head still felt cloudy the next morning, processing the sexual high and confusing social situation you now found yourself in. You knew one thing for sure, you'd never be able to look at Eddie again without thinking about last night. Suddenly the thought of him playing guitar, shuffling a deck of cards, smoking a joint, all felt inherently sexual to you despite never having that connotation before. You were fucked.

What's even worse is when you tried to rub one out in the shower to ease some of your nerves before going downstairs for coffee all you could think of was comparing how your hand felt to Eddie's. It's like he put a stupid curse on you, that all your orgasms would now feel half hearted. It's like you were hungry and were served a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when you could smell a chef preparing a five star meal in the room over. Sure, a PB&J is fine, but now that you've had fine dining it just didn't quite cut it. On top of that your newly corrupted brain couldn't help but theorize about what else Eddie was capable of. He made you come in basically four minutes with three fingers. As soon as you let your mind wander you pull yourself out of it, make the shower as cold as your body can stand, and gear up to face the music, or at least put on an awkward front in front of all of your friends.

You were the first person in the kitchen, but you heard a fair amount of shuffling going on around the creaky cabin so you suspect your friends will be down soon. You take it upon yourself to put on a full pot of coffee and survey the pantry for breakfast options.

"Morning, y/n," Steve greets you passively, eyes clearly set on the coffee that's almost done brewing.

"Oh wow, did you do the dishes last night?" Nancy inquires, her and Robin taking their places at the table while everyone waits for the coffee to finish.

"Oh yeah, it was nothing. Eddie and I did it, only took like five minutes," you wince at yourself.

"Were the two of you up real late?" Steve questions, "I tried to get him up a minute ago but he was knocked out."

"Oh," you start, relying on pouring coffee to everyone as an excuse to not make any eye contact, "I'm not really sure, we were only really up for like ten, twenty minutes after you all went to bed. Maybe he stayed up late in his room." None of it was a lie.

"Whatever, let him sleep this beautiful day away," Steve's whole demeanor changed after a single sip of caffeine, "I say we go down to the dock and check out that canoe, maybe have lunch on the dock? Could be nice."

A murmur of agreement among the group settled the plans for the day, relaxing by the lake, doing exactly what you had intended this trip to be about. You all scarfed down quick breakfast and coffee and separated to change into swimwear. You hated that you thought of Eddie as you picked out your swimsuit. Did he even see you like that? When he called you pretty last night, was that all part of an act to win some stupid bet? You'd be better off assuming so, you decide, you don't want to get wrapped up in your own thoughts about how he thinks of you only to be totally wrong. But you secretly did hope that he'd check you out at least once.

You sprawled out on a big towel on the rickety dock, letting Robin, Nance, and Steve figure out the canoe. It didn't look like it could comfortably for more than two, and three was pushing it, so you decided to sit this one out considering the lake water looked a little murky. You set yourself up comfortably with a glass of lemonade and a book you were halfway through, letting the sun sink into your skin and illuminate the pages as you squinted at the words through the sunshine. You could hear their friendly bickering off in the distance, their canoe now a tiny speck off on the horizon of the lake. You could occasionally hear Robin shriek as Steve threatened to tip them all over.

You felt the dock creek behind you before he said anything, not bothering to turn around from your comfortable position, knowing it couldn't be anyone but Eddie. He made his way down to your towel, inviting himself to plop down next to you and dip his toes into the lake below. He was only in his boxers and a ratty tshirt, a mostly full cup of black coffee sloshing around in the mug he held.

He made you nervous, not sure what the energy would be like between the two of you now. You almost felt worried that nothing would have changed at all. You ignored the buzzing in your abdomen and kept your eyes on your book as he kicked up the lakewater and sipped his coffee next to you, seeming comfortable in your mutual silence.

“Reading anything good?” you knew he’d be the one to break the silence, ever the chatty Cathy. You were surprised at the genuine question rather than a smart remark or joke at your expense.

You told him what you thought of your current read, filling him in a bit on the general plot. Part of you decided that you no longer had the right to give him the edge you usually did. He had won the upper hand fair and square and you were willing to accept that. You could play nice, play by his rules.

You felt like your conversation was going well, or well enough. He asked to see your book, which you willfully handed over. You’d regret doing that. He dog-eared the page you were on and quickly set your book off to the back of the deck before moving at lightning speed and scooping you up and hurling you through the air and into the lake water. What the actual fuck was his problem.

Before you could even register the cold lake water you emerge from your splash and gasp for air. You don’t even have a moment to find where the dock is to cuss him out before you see his cannonballed form fly above you and crash into the lake next to you. His shirt and coffee were abandoned with your book and he emerged from the water with that stupid goofy smile.

That stupid goofy smile that made you less mad that he had thrown you in the lake. What was wrong with you? You should be pissed. Why did his annoying antics suddenly make you feel giggly? You knew exactly why, but wouldn't allow yourself to think about it for longer than a moment.

“Eddie you bitch!” you splash him as soon as you can locate him and that stupid smile. You couldn’t help but smile too. He knew you wouldn’t stay mad. The two of you play-wrestle for a moment, splashing each other and taking turns pushing the other under the lake’s surface.

“I was reading,” you continue to protest.

“And now you’re swimming!” He splashes you again, “We’re on a lake trip, y/n, not a library trip.”

You debated swimming out to where the canoe was, but mutually decided that sounded like too much work. Instead you took turns jumping off the dock and diving down to the bottom of the lake for rocks and other random junk. Eddie even found an old boat anchor.

Once the other three came in from their canoe adventure you all ate packed sandwiches for lunch in the sunshine on the dock. You couldn’t help but take in the moment, knowing you'd be nostalgic for it in the future. You were surrounded by some of your best friends without a care in the world, only focused on pb&j sandwiches and who was going to make the fire later.

After a backyard bonfire and several failed attempts at roasting hot dogs on sticks you all started to slow down and let the day in the sun take you to bed. You showered the feeling of lakewater off your skin and out of your hair with lots of soap and as hot of water as the cabin would allow. You thought you’d cozy up in bed and read some more of your book, or even crash right to sleep, but a nagging feeling kept pulling at you.

As sleepy as you wanted to be, and as interesting as your book was, your mind couldn’t pull itself away from the idea of what Eddie was doing down the hall. It was late enough that the others were probably asleep, you probably should be too. After rereading the same sentence four times you decided to abandon your book and just follow your curiosities.

Before your better judgment could stop you, you lightly knocked at Eddie’s door and cracked it open. You peek around the sturdy wooden door to see him propped up on the headboard, shirtless with a giant book in his lap. His lean chest and arms were littered with random tattoos, nothing you hadn't seen before swimming or when he wore those unbuttoned and ripped up shirts that he often did, but this time you couldn't help but stare at them.

“Sure just come right in,” he comments with a joking tone as you peek around the corner of his door.

“Sorry, sorry,” you half whisper through gritted teeth, “I just-”

You didn’t know how to finish that statement. You just what? Were curious about what he was doing? Wanted to see him? Wanted to know what he would say if you came to his room?

To your surprise he shifts to the side of his bed and opens a space next to him, lifting the sheet that covers his lower half and patting the space next to him. Your eyes widened in surprise a bit before you moved a bit too enthusiastically across the room and settled onto the mattress next to him.

“Hope I’m not bothering you,” you start, genuinely feeling bad if you were intruding.

“You? Not at all. I’ve only read The Lord of the Rings eighty times or so,” he turns over the enormous book in his lap.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could read,” you immediately felt bad, but knew your tone was joking enough to be permissible.

“Very funny,” he sets the book on his nightside table, turning his attention to you. You suddenly felt a spotlight on you, a sudden stage to explain the reason you showed up in his room. Truthfully you didn’t have one. Or, you didn’t have the words to tell him why.

“I-” you start, noticing how small your voice sounded, “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Is that so?” He looked genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, I just-” you still don’t know where you’re going with this, “I just wanted to apologize if I ever gave you the impression that I didn’t like you. I know we kind of go back and forth a lot, but I never really meant to make you feel like I dislike being around you. I just want to start over with you, if that’s okay?”

“Is this because you know all the rumors about my magic guitar fingers are true,” he smirked and leaned his head into yours, an action that would typically make your blood boil that you now found endearing.

“No- well yes- but no,” you couldn’t help but be flustered, finding yourself fidgeting with the hem of his sheet that you had tucked your feet under, knees pushed up against your chest, “I just thought that things were going to be really awkward between us today, or that you were going to be a huge asshole to me. But I just realized that maybe I hadn’t been fair to you, and maybe you weren’t fair to me either, so it would be nice to start over?”

“Do you want to start over right now, or do you want to start over, including last night?” He already knew that even if the two of you ‘started over’ neither of you could forget, or even pretend to forget what had transpired in the kitchen. You let out a sigh. You were thinking the same thing.

“Up to yout,” you look up at him through your lashes, “I’ll leave and never bring it up again, but I can't pretend like I haven’t been thinking about it since it happened.”

“Is that so?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“Shut up, you know it is,” you bump his shoulder with yours.

“Is it because you touched yourself and realized it didn’t feel the same?” his voice grew deeper, and you could feel his gaze pressing into the side of your face, “or because you imagined it was my fingers between those pretty legs of yours.”

You couldn’t help your head from falling back against his headboard and eyes to find solace in the ceiling before gathering the courage to answer him. His face was already inches from your neck, all you needed to do was close the gap, but a part of you was still worried.

You look tentatively into his eyes, big and brown and drawing you in, but you don't let yourself lean in all the way. You had initiated the first kiss between you two last night in the kitchen and had been shaken with worry that you had crossed a line. You didn't want to embarrass yourself again, so you held back. What if he thought that was too intimate? You hoped he didn't. Even though it had left you tense and anxious, kissing him was just as memorable as the orgasm he had given you. You remembered how his mouth tasted, how he slipped his tongue past your lips immediately, how you didn't have to think about anything other than how he was making you feel.

Eddie, on the other hand, knew exactly what you were thinking. He knew that he'd left you a bit high and dry last night. If he was being honest, he wanted to stay in that kitchen and kiss you over and over, offering to take you to bed, his bed. He left for two reasons: he wanted to maintain whatever aura of mystery and intrigue he had garnered by making you feel so good, the tensions were high and it felt right to keep the game up, Eddie enjoyed the cat and mouse, back and forth that the two of you had, and this had taken it to an incredibly fun and elevated state, and he had to leave to release his cock from the confines of his pants. If he was going to fuck you, he was going to fuck you right, and if you had stayed in that kitchen any longer he would have either busted in his pants or promptly three seconds after you made any sort of move on him.

He knew you were nervous. That you found him hard to read and unpredictable. That's probably why the two of you never really got along, and he knew it. He knew that the orgasm he gave you was the most pleasure you had ever felt, and that you hadn't stopped thinking about it for a moment since. It was written all over your face. He couldn't blame you. If he had never had the pleasure of climaxing during sex or at the hands of another person he surely would be in a spell over it too. He knew you needed to be taken care of, and that he had proved himself to be trustworthy of doing so.

While you were caught in your own head debating whether Eddie would kiss you or not, it only takes him a split second to crane his neck around to meet your face and catch your lips in a kiss backed by purpose and intent. He knew how to read your body language. Eddie grew up worrying what everyone around him was thinking of him, or what they were planning to do to him/ He knew how to tell when someone was angry or upset or disgusted. An arch of an eyebrow or a twitch of a hand could mean the smallest things, things that always came back to bite Eddie. He also could tell that your breath was caught in your throat and you were overthinking still, he knew to let the kiss linger for a moment and let you find your footing before deepening it.

The moment he feels your shoulders relax a bit and your head lean ever so slightly into his, he cups the sides of your neck with his hands. Those hands. Littered with tiny stick and poke tattoos and those clunky metal rings. Who the fuck wears jewelry to bed? You had taken note of how his rings had felt shoved down the front of your underwear the night prior, and now you relished in how the distinct metal felt against the soft skin under your jaw.

Last night you kissed him in the heat of the moment. Now he was kissing you. Really kissing you. Tugging on your bottom lip and running his tongue across yours until your stomach felt like you were on the dip of a roller coaster. Kissing you until you were breathless and your cheeks began to run hot, until you couldn't tell whose tongue was whose, or could hardly remember where you were or what time it was. You would have traded every sexual experience you'd had for what he did to you in the kitchen last night, and you'd trade every kiss up until now for the one you found yourself in.

His hands were in your hair, and his lips moved from yours, now wet and pouty, down to your neck. He kissed, licked, nipped, sucked against your skin, gently tugging your hair in the direction he wanted to open your neck up for him. When his bottom teeth dragged across a particular spot in between your jaw and ear a soft moan escaped your lips. You immediately sucked in a sharp breath.

"MmmHmmm," he mumbles into you, still attacking that spot that had elicited the noise, "let me hear you."

You let out a groan and moved to straighten your neck, wanting his mouth on yours again. The hand in your hair kapt you exactly where he wanted though, now using a touch more force.

"You wanna know a secret?" the hand not in your hair ran up and down your rib cage underneath your shirt, trailing from the band of your pants up to the underside of your breast and then gently back down, "Do you know what you do to me?"

"Mmmm, no what?" you could hardly recognize your own voice, now pitched up and airy.

"Those pretty noises you made for me, and the thought of you wrapped around my fingers has been driving me crazy all day, y/n. Do you know what I thought about while I jerked off last night? Those moans, and that pretty cunt you have, and the gorgeous face you made when I got you there. It's all I can see when I look at you now. It made me come so fucking hard last night and it's gonna take a lot of time and illegal substances to make me forget it."

You wiggled your hips up into his touch, wanting him to move faster but knowing he was going to take everything at his pace whether you liked it or not. "Fuck Eddie," he sucked on your earlobe and continued to bite against your soft skin, "you think I'm pretty?" You sounded fucking pathetic, you wouldn't have caught yourself dead asking any boy that, let alone Eddie before tonight.

"Pretty? I think those little moans you make are pretty. And that cunt you have, prettiest I've ever seen. That little bikini you had on today, that was pretty too. You wear that for me?"

"Maybe," you gasp out as his hand dared to venture lower, still over your pajama pants but dipping up and down where he knew your wet slit was.

"Sure, lots of things about you are plenty pretty, but fuck," he loved how responsive you were, already rolling your hips against his hand despite the layers of fabric preventing you from getting what you really wanted, "You? you really are somethin' else."

He could tell you were tired of his teasing, so in between kisses he tugs your shirt up and lets you pull it over your head. He presses your warm skin against his, using all his strength to stay in the moment and feel how nice your tits feel squished up against him, rather than immediately ravish you. He'll get to that, he knows you deserve his patience.

“Just-” you gathered your thoughts, “tell me you want me too, that this isn’t some sort of power trip or pity fuck. I don’t want it if this is some game to you.”

His heart sank a bit at your inquiry, worried that you thought of last night as some sort of power trip for him, although that was what the two of you had framed it as, a power play. He knew there was something deeper and hoped you had felt that too.

“Of course I want you. As much as it was nice to put you in your place, you brat, I didn't make you come to prove anything. I made you come because I wanted to.”

“Will you do it again?” your voice was barely a wiper, your neck craning around to meet his intense gaze.

“Again with my fingers,” he shifted so you were now slumped beneath him, his leg slotting comfortably between yours and his hands coming to cup your cheeks, shoulders angled above yours and hair creating a perfect curtain around your faces, “and my tongue, and my cock,” he leaned down to kiss you, “and all the other ways you’ll let me show you.”

You were a mess. A puddle of arousal and swarming thoughts of nothing but Eddie. Your hands flew up to tangle themselves in his beautiful curls, massaging the nape of his strong neck. The most passionate and enthusiastic kiss you had ever participated in. You were on fire for him. Any former doubt or worry that the actions of last night had on you dissipated into the air along with the breathy moans you couldn’t help but let out in between kisses and touches.

His knee pushed your thighs apart and you willingly splayed yourself out like a ragdoll for him to move and manipulate under him however he pleased. Before you could focus on his hands dipping into your underwear, he bit at your lower lip and pulled back, causing you to crane your neck and chase after his lips as he moved away. You were about to pout about the loss of contact, but his fingers dipping through your wet folds were plenty distracting. He sits back a bit to focus on pulling down your pants and underwear while still stroking you with his opposite hand.

You were too busy squirming under him, both from his slow methodical fingers against your cunt and a half hearted attempt to kick off your garments that were now pushed around your knees to notice his unwavering gaze that raked over your newly exposed body. His resolve was about to break, along with the dam that held back his desire and excitement to feel every inch of you, to make you feel good, to be the first person to make you feel good. He had always thought you were gorgeous, but picking fights is a lot easier than trying to flirt so he settled for riling you up the only way he thought he could.

He swats backwards to assist you in removing your final articles of clothing which are caught on your ankles, and as he leans back forward into you he sinks two thick fingers into you with a smirk on his face. It was a sudden stretch, but you'd be lying if you said you weren’t wet enough for him to slip in without any resistance. Your eyes want to squeeze shut, but you can't help but keep your sight locked on the shit eating grin that spreads across Eddie's face. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. He had made you fall apart in just over four minutes last night, and now he was going to take his time and have his fun with you. How could he not? You were so responsive to him, whimpering and writhing with every small movement, muscles tensing and your perfect lips parting open every time he curled his fingers upwards or brushed your clit with his palm.

He swoops down to give your tits some attention, and you let yourself tangle your fingers into his unruly curls. Between licks and nips he mumbles into your skin, "so fuckin' perfect" and "doing so good for me." He can feel your walls squeezing his fingers, soaking his palm, so he slows his roll a bit, wanting to draw you out a bit longer. You wanted to pull him up for a kiss, but he was deeply concentrating on sucking the perfect purple hickey to the underside of your breast. You could have sworn you heard "mine" come out of his mouth in between sucks and heavy breathing, but you couldn't be sure.

Once he released your skin with a wet pop, you tugged at his hair to beg for a kiss. Eddie liked you all whiney and desperate for him though, so he just lets you tug on his hair as hard a you want as he continues moving down your body, teeth dragging across your ribcage, his hot flat tongue licking a stripe across your hip bone just before blowing a stream of cool air across the new wet trail. All the while his fingers slowly rolled inside of you, making this delicious wiggling motion that had you feeling full and seeing stars.

He pulls his fingers out of you, taking a mental picture of how hot it was that your slick had soaked him down to his rings. Before you can sit up with any sort of protest, he cups his hands on the backs of your thighs and pushes forward to effectively fold you in half. Your head perks up, about to inform him that he is wildly overestimating your flexibility, he cuts you off.

"Just lay back," his hands run up and down from your inner knees down to your ass and back up, "lay back and let me make you feel good, you can do that for me, yeah?"

"Yeah okay," you breathe out as he places a tender kiss to the part of your thigh just under your bent knee, a part of you that had never had any sexual connotation before, and now the feeling of his lips were permanently seared into the skin there.

The last thing you caught sight of before your eyes rolled into the back of your head was Eddie spitting straight onto your pussy, not that it wasn't wet enough already, and immediately going in to lick a fat stripe up the middle of your center. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as he repeated the action, his grip on the meat of your thighs tightening and leaving fingerprint sized indents. He attached his lips to your clit and rolled it against his tongue in a way that you had never experienced.

Sure, you'd been on the receiving end of head before, but not like this. It had always been a 'hey, I just need to make sure your pussy is wet enough for my dick' sort of situation and never a 'it would be my pleasure to die here in between your thighs' situation. The moans that escaped you were shaky and broken, unlike the noises coming from between your legs, a sinful combination of wet slurping and Eddie deeply moaning and humming approval into you as he ate you out.

Your legs began to shake, partially from your growing orgasm, and partly from this advanced yoga position Eddie had you in. He slid a hand down from the juncture of your leg to toy with the pooling wetness at your hole. You let your wobbly hand replace his holding your knee back for him, keeping you spread open and on display as he stuffed two fingers into you, continuing to suck on your clit.

"Ohmyfuckinggod," your words slurred together in a high pitched moan, "Eddie- Eddie, fuck." You were no longer in control of the noises coming out of your mouth, a barely coherent slew of Eddie's name, 'fuck's' and 'please.'

He groaned into your cunt, picking up the pace and curling his fingers into you just like he had the night before, this time with the added pleasure of his mouth devouring you. You were not long for this world.

'You're gonna make me come," you warned him, your voice sounding on the verge of a sob, "feels so fucking good, Eddie, please."

Your eyes screwed shut and legs fell from their pushed back position to clamp around his head as your orgasm took over you. Crashing waves of pleasure that were pulling you out like a riptide. All you can feel is the release, hardly noticing your shaking legs or broken moans. Eddie moves up to catch your lips in a deep, wet kiss, slowing his hand as you ride out the end of your orgasm, still quivering around him.

You were severely out of breath, but refused to break the kiss. His slick, swollen lips swallowed your moans and anchored you, bringing you back down to earth.

"Mmmmm," he hums into the kiss, "you need to quiet down, unless you're tryina get me in trouble," he whispers into your lips, dipping down for another soft kiss as you regain your composure.

"Fuck, sorry," you pant out.

"Don't apologize to me," he slowly pulls his hand from your center and you wince slightly, "if it were just the two of us in this cabin I'd insist you let those pretty moans out to your heart's content."

"I'll be quiet," you reach down to palm him through his low hanging pajama pants, "will you please fuck me? Need to feel your cock in me so badly Eddie, I know you're gonna make me feel so good again."

A feral groan rumbles in his chest, head tilting back towards the ceiling as you stroke what felt to be an incredibly well endowed cock.

"You sure you're up for it?" Now it was his turn to show the hint of neediness in his voice.

"Are you sure?" You question back, getting a better grip through the material of his pants.

"You know I wanna fuck you," he ruts into your hand ever so slightly, "but I need to hear you say it."

"I already did Eddie," you mumble into his neck, "Want your cock so bad, I want to make you feel good too."

He rolls over onto his back, and slips off his pants and boxers. You shift onto your knees next to him, unsure of what position he'd want you in. As his hard cock springs out of his elastic waistband and onto his stomach you lose control over your facial muscles and let your slack jaw hang open, eyes bulging slightly.

"Wh-" a look of concern on his face grows as he notices your expression, looking from you, down to his cock, then back to you, "Oh! The piercing?"

You were completely frozen, because the only thing more shocking than the two little metal balls sticking out of his cockhead was the fact that Eddie Munson had a pornstar dick. Thick, long, girthy, perfectly curved, the most glorious shade of blushed pink. No wonder he had decided to bedazzle it, it was gorgeous. Not only was it the largest and most aesthetically pleasing dick you'd ever seen, in real life or photos, you sure as hell had never had one that big inside you.

"Yeah, the piercing-" your voice trailed off, still gawking at it.

"Shit, I'm sorry if you're like, super freaked out," the worry in his voice snapped you out of your trance, "I guess I maybe should have warned you-"

"No no," you were quick to correct his concern, reaching down to wrap your hand, which hardly fit, around it and give a few experimental strokes, "it's fucking perfect." You were visibly salivating, wanting to feel how the metal balls felt against your hot tongue.

"I mean, it's okay I guess," you say, sitting up, "I wouldn't want to give you an ego or anything," joking sarcasm rolled off your tongue, "but fuck..." the way he twitched in your hand drew you back in, not thinking twice before leaning forward and letting your tongue run from the underside of his shaft up across the metal balls that decorated the head, all the way up to his leaking slit. Your tongue gathered his precum and went back to explore how the piercing felt against your lips, rolling it across your tongue, placing open mouthed kisses to the head.

"Shit-" he hisses out, Eddie knew his dick was fine, maybe a little bigger than average or something, but no one had ever stopped to admire it, compliment it. Then again, most of Eddie's sexual escapades were just that, escapades. Random girls in bar bathrooms, quickies in the back of his van, a few weed customers who he didn't mind exchanging a good quick fuck for a discount. Sure, he'd heard the 'oh you're so big' line mid thrust, but everyone said that about the person they're fucking, right?

After feeling his hips twitch a bit underneath you, you release his cock with a soft pop and climb on top of his torso. Grinding down on his hard length with a few slow forward rolls of your hips, you can't help but lurch forward and capture his lips in a kiss. You let out a deep moan as you feel the head of his cock catch your clit as you drag your wet folds up and down his shaft. Your foreheads stay pressed together as your mouth opens in a silent gasp, his hands coming down to guide your hips and dig his fingertips into your ass.

"Fuck, princess," his voice was low and sexy, and the new nickname had you bucking your hips a little harder, "lay back and let me make you feel good again. This is all about me giving it to you right, yeah? So let me do all the work."

You know his intentions were sweet, but you kept his hips pinned under yours. "Eddie I-" you pull back a bit to meet his eyes, "you can fuck me however you want in a bit, but... I've never had anything that big inside me before and..."

"Shhhh," his hands ran up and down your sides, "we can take it slow, promise. You can sit on my cock and take it at your own pace, let it fill you up right, don't wanna hurt you."

With that you nudged his tip into your entrance ever so slightly, taking a moment to feel how his piercing dragged across your cunt and left a cool metal trail that sent a shiver down your spine. Once you slipped the head inside you, it really wasn't any different from an unpierced dick, other than the sheer girth of it. Your teeth caught your lower lip, sinking down to take the first two inches or so, letting your opening adjust to its size.

It was taking everything in Eddie's willpower not to thrust up into you, or grab your hips and roll them down onto his aching cock. But he knew better than that, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in any way. So he stayed still, holding in a deep and shaky breath as you started to take him. Part of him wanted to look away from the gorgeous faces you were making, because if you were going to bat your eyelashes and tuck that perfect lip in between your teeth he was going to come a lot sooner than either of you would like. But he can't bring himself to do it, loving the way your eyebrows furrowed slightly, almost like when you were angry.

You were fully seated on his cock now, breathing slowly and leaning back to sit up straight on it, somehow pushing it even deeper into you.

"That's it," Eddie's hands still gripped at your hips, making sure you were steady on him, "that's my girl, taking me so well."

You experimentally shifted your weight front to back, rocking your hips shallowly against his. You felt Eddie move underneath you, reaching his hand from its place on your hip to your back. He adjusted his position, and pushed up against the headboard to sit upright, now holding your torso against his. He smoothed your hair across the back of your head.

"It's okay if you need a minute," he took your chin in his hands, clenching his jaw as you continued to rock your hips into his, "don't want you to hurt yourself.

"Just feel so fucking full," you whispered into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck for leverage, "need you to fuck me, fuck me deep and hard, please Eddie, need it."

He arches his hips up slightly to meet your hips as they come down, and your eyes practically spin into the back of your head. He takes it slow, his first few thrusts from under you are careful and gentile. You continue to mumble "please" and "more" into his lips, so he scoops you up from your back and flips you over, not removing his cock from deep within you as you settle down into the mattress. Your legs wrap around his hips and he pushes his dick all the way into you, reaching a new spot that knocks the wind out of you.

"Fuck just like that," your words are hardly there, "so fucking good, Eddie, Eddie..."

"Beautiful," he fucks into you a little harder, "your pussy was fucking made for me." His hands were settled on the backs of your thighs, keeping you spread nice and open for him to pound his cock into you. He lets one hand press into your lower stomach, pushing his cock down while inside you, causing you to let out a gasp. He lets his palm spread your on your lower abdomen, letting his thumb creep closer and closer to your clit, catching it every so often as your hips rolled back and forth with his thrusts.

"You gonna be good and let me make you come again?" he asks, the cocky edge in his voice has you losing all coherence, "so pretty wrapped around my cock."

The movements of his thumb are much more deliberate now, rubbing your clit in tandem with the movement of his hips. He wasn't fucking you particularly fast, but he was making sure his cock was buried all the way inside you with every thrust, rolling his hips forward and punctuating each thrust with extra pressure.

"Oh my god, I-" your head was thrown back into the flannel pillowcases, body starting to tense up again. You were still so wet and turned on from your last orgasm, but coming while his massive cock was in you was going to be entirely different, you could feel it.

"That's it, come on my cock," he could feel the muscles in your thighs start to tighten, the walls of your pussy fluttering around him as he drew methodical figure eights on your clit. You felt so fucking good around him, so warm and wet and tight, swallowing his cock up with every thrust. That plus those damn sounds you were making. But Eddie had a goal, and couldn't be distracted by the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body, his one and only focus was to push you over the edge, to take care of you and do it right.

The choked sobs leaving your heaving chest were the first indicator that you were about come, that and your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice. You weren't able to form words as you fell apart for him, just letting broken moans escape you as your body shook and released all that tension. Part of you could hear a string of praises coming from him, but all you could focus on was the ripple of your orgasm tearing through your body.

You start to come down for it, catching your breath, until you feel him pull out of you entirely and push you legs back as he had before, and dip his head down to lick down your quivering center. He lapped up your wetness and sent a few aftershocks buzzing into your core. His tongue slowed down and he let you settle down, before pushing his tongue entirely into you and letting out the most sensual groan right into your cunt.

"Holy shit," you let out, looking down at him and realized that next to seeing his dick for the first time, Eddie lapping up your orgasm was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

He sat up and let his cock rest in between your puffy pussy lips, his pierced head sitting right on your sensitive clit. He lets the weight of it fall into his hand and gives your pussy a few taps with his cock, sending your hips jerking from the sensitivity.

"Eddie," you start, eyes glassy and voice hoarse, "please keep fucking me, don't want you to stop."

"You want more?" a comment half cocky and half serious.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck me hard," your hands came up to play with your tits, "want you to come in me, use me, give it to me hard how I know you like it."

"'S'that right," he quickly grabs your hips and flips you over, angling your ass up in the air for him, "you wanna take all my come like the good girl you are?"

"Please," your muffled voice comes up from the sheets, "I'm on the pill, it's okay, it's safe."

"Mmm fuck," he slips his cock back into your soaking wet hole, guiding your hips back and forth with his big hands, "thank you, so fucking perfect for me, you can tell me if I go to hard, yeah?"

"Yeah Eddie," you try your best to bounce back on his cock, but know he's doing most of the work moving your ass to slap against his hips, "I want it hard."

With that he takes the initiative to snap his hips forward with every thrust, pulling your gorgeous ass back against him and twitching inside you every time it comes flush with his lower stomach. He can't help but bring a flat palm down to smack it, loving the big red handprint he leaves behind, and loving even more the muffled moan that leaves you when he does so.

"Y'like that?" he already knows you do, but just wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, again, please," each word comes out as a short gasping breath. He smacks your ass again, watching it jiggle against his palm has him thinking he's died and gone to heaven, you his personal angel.

Although he can feel the end in sight, he wants to feel your pussy squeeze around his cock again, so he snakes his hand under your arched hips and toys with your clit. You're beyond fucked out at this point, but can't help but prop yourself up on straightened arms to give him more room to rub against you. He leans down to press his chest against your back, one arm coming down by your side to support his weight as he fucks down into you.

"One more time," he lets out into the skin of your shoulder, "can you come for me one more time, princess?"

“I-” you start, about to tell him you’re unsure, but then he starts rubbing fast strokes against your clit and you’re already seeing stars.

He’s fucking into you fast and hard, just like you’d asked him to. The feeling of you clenching down on him has him biting your shoulder to hold back his grunts and moans. As soon as he feels your pussy start to gush around him, your arms collapsing and legs shaking under him, he lets go with a soft grunt and spills his come deep inside you.

He lets his cock stay there for a moment, pulsing inside you, relishing in the feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around him. He pulls out slowly and you let out a small yelp, letting your hips fully sink down to the mattress without his hands to heep you propped up.

He runs a hand across your thigh, and you acknowledge your attention with a hum.

“M’gonna go get something to clean you up,” his voice is soft and you nod into the pillows, making a half hearted attempt to roll your body over. He uses his discarded sweatpants to wipe off his forehead and chest, suddenly aware of how sweaty he is, you both are.

He slips on his boxers and creeps down the hall to the kitchen, grabbing a big glass of water and a clean hand towel run under the sink. He slips back into the room to find you paid out on the bed, all sweaty and fucked out, it’s the best you’ve ever looked to him.

He lifts you up by the shoulders and helps you sit up while you take a few sips of water and let out a “thank you” in between sips. He runs the warm cloth in between your legs a few times to catch anything sticky, before tossing it into the pile with his dirty clothes.

You were already mostly knocked out, all the energy completely drained from your body. Typically you’d awkwardly dance around the notion of spending the night or not, but your eyes felt too heavy to care, and your body was already molded into his sheets. He flicked off the bedside light and got settled into bed next to you, thinking you were already completely asleep.

“Thank you Eddie,” your voice was sleepy and almost didn't cut through the air.

“No problem, good sex is dehydrating,” he responds, assuming you meant the thanks for the water and towel.

“No thank you for taking care of me,” you roll into his arms, snuggling up against him, “I didn’t know sex could be like that.”

“Like what?” he partially knew what you meant, given that the three times you’ve ever come during sex all happened in the past hour.

“Like magic,” you’d have been embarrassed to say it in other circumstances. But the post sex bliss and intense sleep that was washing over you made you sort of hazy and elated.

“Yeah I think you’re pretty magic too,” he wrapped you up in his arms, feeling the same tiredness, “good night y/n.”

The next morning he felt a sort of sore stiffness in his body, wiping the crust from his eyes and suddenly remembering the events of the night prior. There was an empty warm spot in the bed next to him, indicating you must have slipped out recently. He shook out his messy bedhead and threw on some sweatpants.

A short trip down the hall brought him into the kitchen, where you were making a pot of coffee. You heard him come in from the hallway, and you suddenly tensed up at the thought of facing him. How did he look so damn good mid yawn, rubbing his face and his hair a wild mess.

You turn towards the coffee machine on the counter, frantically trying to think of what to say or how to act towards him. Before you could give it too much thought, you feel his presence directly behind you, his arms caging you in and his back pressed against you.

“Are you pouring me a cup?” he asks, hunching down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you elongate the word, taking in his scent and feeling his hair tickle your neck, “this is how you take it right? No cream, no sugar.”

“Mhmmm,” he mumbles into your hair, giving you a quick peck on the side of your neck before moving to grab the cup.

“Wow okay early bird Eddie,” Robin’s voice cuts through the air of the kitchen and he immediately grabs his coffee and moves away from you. There’s no way she wouldn’t notice and the two of you cringe at the somewhat compromising position.

“Okay I don’t think I want to know what the hell that was about,” she points between the two of you. Ahh Robin, master of the art of subtlety.

Steve comes into the kitchen, immediately sensing the awkward air between everyone in the small space.

“Oh god,” he looks from Robin’s pointing finger to the two of you with somewhat guilty expressions, “was THAT all that noise I heard last night? Jesus Christ you two.” He turns out of the kitchen dramatically, leaving Robin with a bewildered expression and the two of you cringing.

“At least they’re fucking instead of fighting now!” she calls to him as he continues to walk down the hall away from you.

Amongst Robin yelling and Steve leaving in a huff, Eddie manages to sneak his hand behind you and pinch your ass, making you jump a bit and the coffee in your cup to slosh around. He gives you a wink and starts to head out of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna have my coffee by the lake, you joining me?”

Maybe this trip was going to be something special after all.

All Eddie Fics Taglist: @eddielives1986

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #smut #smut fanfiction

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sourbinnie · 1 year

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☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

maknae line

a/n: first reaction ¡! i decided i would go with the "compares you" part. hope i did it well for yall and to the person who requested it, thank u!!! i'll publish maknae line whenever i'm free:]

chan ✉

arguments could get pretty heated with chan sometimes (he's a libra at the end of the day). it could get stressful since you've been going back & forth for so long now, as you tried to make him understand that he wasn't taking care of himself but it only brought back hurtful words that you were letting it pass under the excuse that he was "too tired". maybe you were too naive at that moment thinking that he would calm down and you guys would solve it like you always do.

then you heard it, he didn't say their name but you could only imagine who he was talking about at that point and time.

"they would just leave me alone and let me be, why can't you do the same? ah right you're not them and you will never be." he said and horror washed him instantly as they realized what they did. fights were inevitable but you can always keep comments to yourself right? it was just the heat of the moment that made him slip out such cruel words. as soon as you were turning away to leave, he was trying to find his way to you but it was too late anyways. "baby nono, don't leave not right now, it's late and i was fucking stupid. i'm so fucking sorry-."

"i just need some space right now, yeah? i need to be away from you." you said and that only made him worry even more as that's the last thing he wanted right now. "just let me christopher, we'll talk when i get back."

"don't call me that, i'm still your channie, your boyfriend and i still fucking love you. listen i'm sorry but please don't go." he said close to the tears falling from his eyes and you just shook your head as you grabbed your things and he followed you around the house like a lost puppy. "(y/n) let's work this out yeah? i'll go to the dorms tonight and you'll stay here."

eventually knowing he wouldn't give up, you just nodded as you went to your shared bedroom and sighed. letting the tears finally from your eyes and hearing the door close was enough to let your sobs out from how much those words stung in your heart.

minho ✉

fighting with minho wasn't easy. his witty responses and his hurtful comments always stood out like daggers in your heart. he usually didn't fight at all but when he did, most of the time he took it too far and it wasn't easy to forget what he said. as the new comeback approached, you tried your best to be supportive but when you couldn't see them on their first win, it hurt minho. he wanted you to be there, backstage or in the crowd cheering for them but he did not see you anywhere. turns out you were too late, had a "work" emergency, he called bullshit on that.

"i'm sorry min, i'll promise i'll be on the next one. my boss really needed me and-." he cut you off immediately, not wanting to hear it.

"it's fine. it's not like they would miss out on this like you did. maybe i should just get back with them." he muttered and it was enough for you to walk away from him. all the boys were there to talk to him about what just happened and why were you crying but he was completely petrified from your reaction and how you just went away without a word. "god i'm such a fucking idiot." he said as he chased after you through the hallways.

"don't even try talking to me. i get that you're fucking mad but that doesn't give you an excuse to say stuff like that." you said as you still walked away and didn't even look in his direction. minho tried to process what was happening all at once but couldn't bare to see the look in your eyes as the tears were still going down your face.

"please listen to me for a second. it was stupid that i got mad, i should've understood you from the beginning but please stay and i'll make it up to you. i promise." he said and even if it did sound sincere, you just couldn't do it.

"i'm sorry, i think i wanna be alone tonight." you said as you looked at him one last time and kissed his cheek before muttering "goodbye minho" and walking through the door. leaving a distraught and regretful minho behind.

changbin ✉

it wasn't rare for you to fight with changbin, what was rare was when he got mad. this time when you were at the studio, making sure 3racha were feeling well and not overworking themselves, you were met with a furious bin. it surprised you, you've never seen him mad and maybe something else was happening that you didn't know or you chose the worst time to visit the studio. whatever it was, it made you feel so small and like you were in a place you did not belong. jisung and chan weren't even there to witness it but you guessed that as soon as they heard, they left you guys alone.

"look i'm sorry. i don't know what i did wrong but that doesn't excuse your attitude and how you're treating me right now!" you said but it wasn't enough to his ears as he gave you the next words.

"god i can never say anything, at least with them they would let me express myself. i should've never broken up with them if i knew i was gonna end up with you." ouch was all that could be said about that as you nodded and felt the water in your eyes grow slowly. "shit- i'm so fucking sorry, i don't know what came over me baby."

he tried to get close to you but you just took a step back and that broke changbin's heart completely. it made him feel like a monster in front of you but he couldn't blame you for that, it was all his fault in the end. when he saw you walk away, as much as he wanted to, he decided not to follow you and let you go. he couldn't describe what he was feeling when he saw you practically run away from the building and not answer for jisung's calls since he was just walking in with chan.

"what the fuck happened hyung?" jisung asked as he crossed his arms and that's when changbin lost the control of his tears. he wasn't one to usually cry but he was now gonna be haunted with muttering those words to you and what he made you feel in that moment.

"i fucked it up like i always do." he said brokenly.

hyunjin ✉

as much as you loved hyunjin, he got so petty in fights it was irritating. he was the definition of drama queen and he could fight on & on about the tiniest of details. like right now when you just got home and you forgot to do some things in your shared apartment. tiny things like the dishes or the laundry usually didn't piss him off but today when he got home practice and saw, in his words, that the whole house was upside down, he got stressed.

"look i'm sorry, i forgot to do it and i know you've been busy with practice. i'll do it tomorrow since i get to go home earlier." you tried to explain but he just shook his head and crossed his arms.

"tomorrow? are you serious? they would've done it right here and now and wouldn't be putting up excuses like you're doing." he didn't even have to mention them for you to know who he was talking about. it felt like twisting the knife on the wound as you just looked at him with the most hurtful stare.

"of course they would. they didn't have a job in the first place and relied on you for everything!" you said and laughed bitterly but in a sad way. "if it's my job then it's a problem but with your job there's literally no excuse right? 'cause it's more important. grow up hyunjin."

"look babe i'm sorry. i don't know what the fuck i was thinking when i said that." he tried to make up an excuse at the moment but he knew nothing would justify what he said and implied with his words. it was met with a sigh from you and it was your turn to shake your head. "i don't think your job is less important and i shouldn't have said what i said-."

"but you said it." you whispered and decided to head to your shared bedroom to lock the door. you needed some time alone not only because of the harsh words but because it made you process your whole relationship in a flashback.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz reactions #skz angst #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #chan x reader #minho x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz #stray kids

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really-fanny-longbottom · 15 days

Text

SECOND CHANCE

Pairings: Rhysand x Reader (platonic), Rhysand x Feyre

Summary: Rhysand tells Feyre about his favorite person.

Warnings: mentions of blood/abuse (nothing descriptive); Reader doesn't make a appearance.

Words: 2.4k

Author Note: Hi! So this is my first fic ever. It was supposed to be smaller, but i got a little carried away. Anyways, english is not my first language, so sorry if there's any misspelling. I've been wanting to publish this for a while but didn't have the courage. But i finally got it, so here you go.

I hope you like it!

It was her fourth day in Velaris, and Feyre still couldn't believe how beautiful and magical the city of starlight was.

It felt like a dream that she could not wake up from, too good to be real, but there she was, staring out the window one more time.

The little noise from her stomach made her break her gaze and remind her that she hadn't had breakfast yet.

Feyre looked at Velaris one more time and then made her way to the dining room where Rhysand was already waiting for her.

He was immaculate as always in his black attire and with his perfect styled hair.

Rhysand was sipping on his tea as Feyre made her way towards the table, took a seat, and started serving herself.

"How did you sleep?" Rhysand asked while he looked at Feyre pouring food on her plate like he was assessing if it was enough or not.

"Very well," Feyre responded while meeting his gaze. "The city is beautiful, I couldn't stop looking at the view." She admitted after a moment of silence.

"Thank you. I take pride in it," He respondend while giving another sip on his tea.

Feyre looked at his hand and noticed the little mark that lay in the space between his thumb and his index finger. She had noticed that mark before but was never close enough to understand what it was. Now that she was sitting right next to him, she realized that it wasn't just a simple mark but tooth bites.

"Are those tooth bites?" She asked while pointing at his hand.

Rhys took a look at his hand, and a genuine smile appeared at his lips while setting his cup back on the table. "Yes, they are."

Feyre couldn't help her curiosity, and before she lost her courage, she asked, "How did you get them? Pissed someone off?"

Rhys chuckled, and for the first time, Feyre couldn't help but smile at the sound.

"Actually, a little girl did it," Rhysand said with nothing but amusement in his voice while he stared at the mark.

Shock and confusion settled on Feyre's face at his words, but the love in Rhys eyes and his smile while still looking at the mark, probably from remembering the memories from how he got them, didn't went unnoticed by her.

"A little girl bit you? What do you mean?" Feyre asked him again. She was so intrigued at this new information that she completely forgot about her breakfast.

Never breaking his smile, Rhys looked up again and met her gaze "Well she's not a little girl anymore but she was at the time she gave me these" He said while gesturing to his hand. He chuckled again. "It's a long story."

Feyre didn't even hesitate to respond, "I love stories, and now that i'm immortal, I have nothing but time, so please tell me about this little girl that bit you. I like her already." She finished with a smile playing on her lips.

Rhys gave a big laugh that went around the room, and at that moment, Feyre wanted to make him laugh more often just so she could hear that sound again.

Still with a smile on his lips, Rhys replied, "Her name is Y/N, she's my little sister."

Another set of shock and confusion settled at her face. He had another sister? She remembers Rhys telling about his mother and sister, about what happened to them at the hands of Tamlin's family, but he never mentioned your name before. So why didn't she meet you yesterday at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle? Feyre went through her memories from last night's dinner, trying to remember if at any point one of them had mentioned your name, but she came up with nothing.

Seeing her confusion, Rhys explained, "You didn't meet her yesterday because Y/N it's not in Velaris at the moment. She's in Winter Court taking care of some matters for me, but she returns today, so you will meet her in few hours."

"Why didn't you mention her yesterday when you talked about your mother and your other sister?" Feyre asked, trying to understand why were you kept a secret until now.

Rhys smile faded, and a hint of sadness made his way into his features "Y/N it's not my biological sister. When I met her, I was already High Lord, and a century had passed since my family's deaths. "

"How did you meet her then?" Feyre asked, her voice a little more quiet after the mention of Rhys family.

Rhys gave a long sigh before answering. "Me, Cassian, and Azriel found her one night. We were returning from one of the illyrian camp's, i don't know why but we decided to fly that night instead of winnowing like we always did but I'm glad we did otherwise we wouldn't have found her. On the flight back, one of Azriel's shadows detected movements near our border, so we decided to go check." Feyre noticed that Rhys got distant, like he was probably remembering that night as he spoke. He looked at her before continuing, "When we got there, we immediately smell blood. There wasn't a lot, but there was enough for the scent to linger in the air. We followed the scent, and that's when we found her. Laying on the floor, her eyes closed, not moving, and her dress had blood all over."

Feyre gasped, and Rhys continued. "She was so small and so skinny, we thought she was dead. But then, like she read our thoughts, she moved. So i tried to approach her, and when i touched her shoulder, she turned around so fast that I barely noticed and bit my hand." Rhys laughed at that, and the air became lighter. Feyre couldn't help but laugh at the thought of this little girl biting the hand of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian's history.

"And after that?" Feyre asked, amusement in her voice.

"After that," Rhys said while laughing more. "She got up and started running. Cassian tried to catch her, but she dogde and kicked him in the nuts. "

"What??" Feyre said, disbelief all over her face and a big smile on her lips.

"Yep," Rhys confirmed. "She kicked him right there before passing beneath his legs and lauching at Azriel. He tried to catch her too but also failed. She managed to grab Az's leg and ripped Truth Teller from his hip right before pointing it at us." Rhysand concluded with the biggest smile on his face. In that moment, Feyre could've swear he looked like a proud father.

Feyre gasped again before replying, "No way! She actually did that?" She asked, shocked, and when he nodded, she asked again, "How old was she?"

Rhys started laughing again and shaking his head. "Seven. She was seven and was able to make three full-grown illyrians males feel like stupids." Still to this day, Rhys couldn't believe how you managed to dumbfound the three of them.

Feyre couldn't hold her laughter. "What happened after?"

Rhys locked eyes with her, amusement written all over his features. "You mean after she humiliated us?" Feyre gave a big belly laughter while nodding her head. "I said we weren't going to hurt her. She didn't quite believe us, so I went inside her head and saw what led her there."

Feyre's smile faded when she noticed how serious Rhys got and how a flash of anger passed his face. "What was it?" Feyre asked, afraid of the answer but wanting to know any way.

Rhys looked at his mark again. "She runned away from home. Her stepfather was abusive and used to hit her. Her mother died when she was just a babe, and she never met her father, so it was just the two of them. One day, she decided it was enough and ran."

By the cauldron, Feyre couldn't even begin to imagine what you had to went through so young.

Sure her life wasn't easier either but at least no one ever hited her. You must've been so scared.

"What happened to the male?" Feyre needed to ask, she needed to know.

Rhys didn't tear his eyes from her when he respondend firmly "Me, Cass and Az took care of him, after we found out who that bastard was."

"Good," Feyre replied whitout a trace of regret from her words, "And the blood on her clothes? From that night?" Feyre wondered, praying for that abusive male not be the caused of it.

"It was from the wounds she got while running away, we found her barefoot, and the dress she wore wasn't enough to protect her skin." Rhys said, and Feyre released a breath she didn't know she was holding, somehow relieved that the wounds weren't for a worse reason.

"How did you bring her here? You said she was pointing Truth Teller to the three of you." Feyre said.

"She was," Rhys said with his smile back on his face. "I got into her mind again and put her to sleep. She had no mind shields at the time, so it was easy."

Feyre noticed how he said 'at the time', so she had to ask, "Did you teach her how to create mind shields?"

"I did." Rhys smiled, a proud look in his face. "I also taught her how to read and write." Rhys added with a sarcastic smile all over his lips while looking at her with amusement.

Feyre laughed and reciprocated the look. "Let me guess. You told her to write 'Rhysand is the best High Lord ever' and 'Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord ever'. Am I right?"

Rhys gave a big belly laughter "Nope," Feyre gave him a look telling him that she didn't believe him for a second, Rhys laughed again before saying "I told her to write 'Rhysand is much stronger than Cassian' and 'Rhysand is much smarter than Azriel', things like that." Rhys concluded, still laughing.

Feyre noticed the love and the pride in his eyes and couldn't help but look at him with admiration.

Noticing the way she looked at him, he asked, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Without a second thought, she said, "You really love her, don't you?"

Surprise passes in his eyes before replying, "Yes. Very much. I basically raised her. Me and the rest of the Inner Circle, of course, but mostly me and Cassian." Rhys paused for a moment looking at the window, a sad smile settled in his lips before returning his look to Feyre."Y/N is my second chance. Losing my sister, was one of the most painful things i ever had to go through but Y/N," Rhys paused, looking at the bite marks again "She helped me heal that part of me. She's the best thing that ever happened to me and to my Inner Circle. Finding her that night feels like a blessing, like the Mother gave me another chance, and i'm not gonna lose her this time. She's Cassian second chance too, you know? After losing his mother the way he did, Y/N helped heal that part of him, too."

Feyre nodded, somehow understanding his feelings. For a few seconds, she wondered what it would be like to have a relationship like that with her sisters.

"So what is her position in your inner circle?" Feyre questioned, thinking why were you in Winter Court.

"She's my Emissary. Usually, she doesn't go to others' courts alone, Azriel's always by her side," Rhys says with a certain amusement in his voice before he continues "but she was born in Winter and has a very good relationship with Kallias. I trust him and I know he would never hurt her." Rhys scoffed. "Gods help him if he did."

Feyre noticed the amusement in his voice at mention of his brother's name, her curiosity speaking louder, "Y/N and Azriel?"

Rhys snorted. "Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes they flirt with each other but I don't know if it's just for fun or not. Their relationship was never like ours. While me and Cassian always saw her as our little sister, Azriel always saw her more like a friend and Y/N too. She always saw him as a friend. As someone to run to when Cass and I started acting too much like dads to her."

Feyre snorted and caught Rhys looking at his hand again. She saw him caressing the mark and wondered, "Why didn't it heal?"

Rhys understood what she meant without taking his eyes from his hand. "I don't know, but i glad it never did. This," Rhys said while gesturing his hand in the air, "is what kept me sane and going during all those years under the rule of Amarantha."

Feyre gave him a small smile, and before she could say something again, Cassian entered the room in a rush.

"Am i interrupting something? Cassian asks.

Rhys is quick to reply, "No, you're not. What is it?"

Cassian says with the biggest smile on his face. "Our little star is back. She decided to come home earlier and arrived a few minutes ago. She's at the House."

Rhys face lights up at this new information and is quick to stand with the warmest smile on his lips. "Finally." Feyre notices his shoulders relaxing, like a pressure was taken of from them.

Feyre asks, confused. "Little star?"

Cassian and Rhys answer at the same time, "Y/N.

Feyre let's a giggle escape her at the cute nickname they have for you.

"Well," Rhys holds out a hand, and Feyre is quick to grab it. "Would you like to meet her?"

Feyre snorts "Would i like to meet the girl who bit your hand, kick Cassian in the nuts and stole Azriel's precious dagger? Yes. Yes, i would." Feyre replies like is the obvious thing in the world.

Cassian laughs. "Seriously, Rhys? Out of all of the stories that there is about Y/N. You had to tell that one?"

Rhys could only laugh and shake his head. "I know, i know." Rhys looked at Feyre again. "Shall we? I don't want to stay one more minute without seeing her."

Cassian snorted. "Cauldron, you're such a dad. It's only been six days."

Rhys gave him an unfazed look. "Like you weren't acting the same."

Cassian scoffs. "Shut up. Now let's go before Mor drags her to go shopping."

Rhys laughs, knowing very well that his cousin is absolutely doing that. He looks at Feyre one more time, love, and affection all over him. "Ready to meet my favorite person?"

Feyre nodds at him before answering, "Ready."

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! If you have any suggestions, please leave it in the comments. 😊 Also, the beautiful dividers belong to @tsunami-of-tears

Prequel Part Two

#azriel x reader #acotar #acotar fandom #rhysand x reader #rhysand x feyre #a court of thorns and roses #inner circle #cassian #cassian x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #rhysand #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #feysand

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acescavern · 1 month

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Lay Your Hands On Me x Mingi x Reader x Yunho

When you’re left alone over easter break, your two hot neighbors convince you to join them for their lake house getaway. Only, you didn’t realize the topic of conversation would be surrounding your dry sex life on the very first night. After a tense encounter at 3am, you decide to try and see how long it will be until they break.

Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader x Mingi.

Genre: Smut. basically pwp ish. i'm not entirely sure if there even is a plot to this anymore. not proof read

wc: 6.5k woops?

Warnings: NO member shipping, threesome, poorly written smut, best friends yungi, yungi are your neighbors, reader gets left out by her friends, mingi and yunho are horndogs, big dick!Yunho, Rough mingi, i feel like Mingi was kinda soft Dom, there's a thigh spank or two, unprotected (wrap it up!), cream pie, talks about readers sex life, overstimulation, multiple orgasms ( f receiving ), pussy eating, slight stomach bulge, the reader is a tease. Mingi calls reader Dollface, and Yunho calls her Angel.

note: Hey! I haven't written a full-fledged fic in a while. I feel like I've repeated so many words in this. I hope you still enjoy it, though! these two men have been WRECKING me. Did anyone catch the coachella live stream? I literally died

ps. I wrote this whilst listening to if u think I'm pretty by artemas

Any feedback is greatly appreciated! What was your favorite part?

I do not permit for my work to be copied, published on other websites and blogs or translated.

Your shoulders slumped once your roommate’s car finally left your peripheral vision. All of your friends had found something to do, somewhere to go and have fun, over the Easter break. It left you sitting in an empty apartment, listening to the sounds of the heating and water pipes creaking or even your upstairs neighbour's loud exhilarating activities.

You were excited at first, the prospect of having the place to yourself.. but the fear of missing out finally set deep into your bones when your friends had decided to meet up with each other during their trips whilst you sat at home alone with nothing but the walls to talk to.

With a dejected sigh, you pulled your thin cardigan further around you and turned to head back inside. You knew you probably looked miserable to any passerby, but you couldn't find it in you to care.

You startled when a pair of firm hands settled on your shoulders, halting your mopey shuffling down the hallway. “____?”

Your eyes rose from the floor, settling on the worried features of your neighbor. The corners of your lips twitched into a sorry excuse of a smile, hand lifting to wave at him. You didn't trust your voice. You always made a fool out of yourself around Yunho and his roommate.

“What are you still doing here? I just saw your friends leave from the window, shouldn't you be with them?” His brows were creased, his expression drawn in confusion.

Yunho’s fingers were absentmindedly pressing your shoulders as he bent his head to read your face. You knew the sting of your eyes meant tears, but you blinked them away and shook your head.

“I'm.. “ You swallowed thickly. “I'm by myself this break.” Your chest hurts just admitting it. “I wasn't invited.”

You weren't sure that Yunho's expression could even be sour, being the sweet and polite man he is, but it did. A flash of irritation crossed his brown eyes. Your heart leapt into your mouth when his hands moved from your shoulders to cup your face, your own wide eyes staring back at him. “and you're gonna be okay?”

You knew Yunho meant nothing by it, but his touch was warm and safe. You fought the flutter of your eyelids, willing yourself not to lean into his touch. Your head bobbed in a slightly restricted nod, Yunho pulling his hands away.

“I guess. I'll just… clean, I guess.. laundry...” You weren't hiding how low you felt over the whole situation. Your voice held no enthusiasm, no life.

Yunho pursed his lips in thought, giving a quiet nod and letting you be on your way. He watched with a frown, your shoulders slumped and head hung low. Your eyes had lost the spark today that Yunho found one of his favourite things about you.

Instead of making his way down to the car to check if they had everything, Yunho went back into the apartment he shared with Mingi. The younger male looked up at him in confusion from the couch.

“What did you forget? Yunho, I swear if you just walked to the car and back again I–” Mingi was swiftly cut off by Yunho perching on the coffee table in front of him.

“What if ____ joined us at the lake house?”

It’d been half an hour since you were left to your own devices. Half an hour of mindlessly flicking through the TV channels with disinterest. You were almost grateful for the continuous knocking on your door… until you weren't, and it wasn't seeming to go away.

Opening the door only a slither, you came face to face with your other neighbor. Mingi. His dark hair is messy and damp as if he'd just showered. Judging by the enticing scent of spiced apples coming from him, he had. “Yes?” You raised an eyebrow at him, his expression locked in a grin.

“Pack a bag. Bring a swimsuit.” He said simply, causing you to stand solid in front of him for at least a good thirty seconds as he looked at you expectantly.

“Mingi wha–” Mingi cut you off, his hand cupping your shoulders to turn your body back into your apartment.

“Yunho wants to get there before midnight. Hurry up.”

That was exactly how you found yourself sitting in front of a warm fire a little before midnight with a marshmallow on a stick, your neighbors both sipping beers as they too toasted their treats.

“I did not look that miserable!”

“You did! You looked like someone kicked your puppy!” Yunho laughed, recalling your wounded look in the hallway just a mere three hours ago.

Mingi reached over, his ringed hand patting your knee. “You're cute when you sulk, ____.” His hand retracted all too soon, fingers curling back around the beer bottle to lift it to his lips again.

You'd long finished your beer. You all were only having one tonight anyway. You'd discovered after you had gotten here that the duo planned on staying a week at least.

After your complaints and confusion were worn off, you were grateful. Anything was better than listening to your thoughts for two weeks whilst you had the apartment to yourself. You were also glad that none of the perishable food you had stocked would go to waste. It would save the three of you having to live off gas station sandwiches before you could get groceries for the week.

You had never realized how relaxed the two best friends were away from the university. Around the campus, Mingi's expression was always pulled into a stressful pout. The crease between his brows was always begging for your thumb to just gently smooth it out. Yunho's shoulders were permanently tense. In fact, his whole body was. There were many times you felt like you'd run into a literal brick wall, but it had just been Yunho in the halls.

To see them both lounged back in the plastic outdoor chairs, beers in hand, and smiles on their faces was nice to see. Your soft spot for the two handsome best friends only grew tenfold.

“So,” Mingi set his beer bottle down, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Why were you alone?” he peered at you in curiosity.

“Didn't we go through this?” Your head tilted to the side, eyes moving to the side to send a puzzled look into Yunho's way.

Mingi shakes his head, pausing a moment. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip as he thought about how to voice his curiosity.

Mingi cleared his throat. “No, I mean…You had the whole apartment to yourself..” He trailed off.

He sighed, seeing your brows crinkled further in confusion. “Okay?...”

“He's asking why you didn't have anyone over.” Yunho cut in, his tone slightly exasperated with Mingi's cryptic questions.

“Oh.” The statement had your shoulders straightening in surprise, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks. “Uhm.. I don't have anyone.” Your gaze tore away from his own, glueing to the marshmallow you’d plucked from the bag next to you.

You busied yourself with stabbing it with the stick as a prolonged silence carried across the warm fire. It wasn’t that you detested the idea of having company. It was more a case of…well. Most men gave you the biggest ick. Nearly all men you’d ever come across had given you the ick, and it only took you until now to realize that Yunho and Mingi had never given you that feeling.

You would be blind to miss how handsome they both are and the fact that both of them were genuinely nice guys. That just made the icing on the cake. The cake that you wanted, you’d wanted for a long while. You hadn’t made it obvious. You’d never made a move on either of them. Why would you? You knew who good guys like them go for. They go for bad girls they think they can fix. They didn’t go for girls like you. Little did you know, you couldn’t be more wrong.

When you did look up, both Yunho and Mingi’s concentration was fixed on you. Mingi’s left eyebrow raised as if to challenge your answer. “What?” Your tone grew slightly defensive.

“____, The walls between our apartments are very thin.” Yunho trailed off, looking sideways at his best friend when your clueless expression grew.

“So…?”

“So, we hear things. Everything. Specifically, I hear things... Through my bedroom wall on the other side of yours.” Mingi continued on, relief flooding him when your face broke out into a laugh, a cute red hueing your complexion.

“That isn’t my room, Mingi.” You covered your mouth to try and keep your humorous spurt of laughter at bay. “My room is on the other side of Yunho’s.” You took a bite of marshmallow.

“Wait…” Yunho murmured, his expression thoughtful. “So, you’re the culprit of the fake moaning after your roommate's birthday party last month?” His revelation had you choking on the sweet treat, Mingi had the courtesy to thump on your back to dislodge it.

“Oh my- Yunho!” You spluttered, hiding your face behind your palms. “The one time I tried to get with someone and you were listening?!” a heavy groan of shame left your lips, your body sulking back into the camping chair you were sitting in. “That’s so unfair!”

As much of a gentleman Yunho was, he found the whole situation hilarious. “A really rare occurrence.” He grinned, reaching into the cooler for another beer. “Seriously though, I felt bad for you.” You knew what Yunho meant.

Yunho was referring to how fake your noises were, how the guy didn't even pick up on it. Not that Mulgyeol from the campus soccer team would have time to notice. The guy was out in 5 strokes. You also knew for a fact that Yunho was probably referring to the sad little fact of you having to finish yourself after he left. You weren’t proud of that but you have needs and whilst the vast population of men give you the undeniable cringe factor, every six months or so you would attempt to divulge your urges - just to see if it would be different that time. News flash, it wasn’t.

“H-How did we get onto the subject of my dry sex life?” You nervously chuckle, looking back and forth between the two men with vibrant cheeks.

A chuckle rumbled in Yunho’s throat, dying off to a comfortable silence. The conversation topic would have felt very intrusive had it been with anyone else, but somehow, the two still hadn't weirded you out. You were still sitting comfortably content in your camping chair around the fire with them.

Mingi fidgeted in his seat, fingers threading through his platinum blonde hair… he hadn't said much else for the next 15 minutes. the three of you sitting in comfortable silence.

“I’m off to bed, guys.” You mumbled tiredly as you stood. You began to fold up your chair to take inside, but Yunho waved you off, claiming he would take it when they went to bed.

You weren't far from them, certainly not out of earshot when Mingi spoke again.

“We'd never do that.” it didn't take a genius to know what he meant, and the mere thought of his words made your skin alight. “Goodnight, ____.”

Mingi's parting words at the campfire the previous night had lit a fire within you. Your skin prickled with the curiosity of what else he could have meant. Your dreams hadn’t been favourable to you either, your body jolting you awake with the lingerings of a breathy plea hushing into the silence. Your skin was littered with goosebumps, and your mouth felt dry.

One thing about being in this lakehouse is the chill of a night, but you didn’t plan on being out of bed long. Especially in your pyjamas that were only white shorts and a blush pink camisole with white lace trim to match. A shiver shuddered through you as your feet hit the cold wooden floorboards. You didn’t bother with a cover-up. It was 3 AM. Who would be up at this hour anyway?

Mingi was. Nearly choking on air as he rounded the open doorway to the kitchen to find you reaching up on your tiptoes for a glass from the top shelf. You had one knee resting on the grey marble of the counter for leverage but it only had Mingi’s eyes zeroing in on the shortest pair of shorts he had ever seen, your cheeks almost shyly peeking out the hem.

He sucked in a breath, brain finally kicking into gear when he saw your balance wobble and your fingertips only pushed the glass further away on the shelf. He heard you grumbling to yourself, cursing whoever decided to put the glasses on the top shelf. Your rambling had an endeared smile whispering the corners of his mouth, his head shaking slightly as he approached.

Mingi knew he was testing the waters here but as he closed in on you, his left hand splaying its fingers on your hip to steady you, his chest to your back, the right arm reached past your own to grab a glass. He felt the jolt of surprise your body made against his own.

Mingi cleared his throat. “You didn’t look like you were winning.” His voice was thick and gravelly from sleep, fingers tightening their hold on you as you moved back instinctively.

The glass made a muted sound as he set it on the counter, Mingi’s brown eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the view of your neck arched back to angle your head toward him, staring at him with surprised doe-like eyes.

You seemed to be rendered speechless, a blush on your cheeks that almost matched your top. The male was having heart palpitations when he finally got the front view of you, the teasing view of your navel between the hem of your camisole and the waistband of those pesky shorts he just wanted to remove drove him crazy.

Needing a distraction from the way your nipples perked beneath the material stretched over your breasts, his touch on you ceased. His fingertips tingled from the buzzing feeling of grazing your bare skin. Clearing his throat, he swiftly picked up the glass to fill it.

You felt like your soul was trembling, calling out for him to touch you once more. You felt wound tight, words catching in your throat. “U-Uhm, no.” Your attempt to recover had your voice sounding slightly strained. “Who’s bright idea was it to put cups on the top shelf?” You laughed it off quietly.

“That’d be me.” He hummed, “Yunho’s grandmother left us this place in her will, we renovated it a little.” Mingi leaned back against the counter, his black sleep shirt pulling taught across his torso. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, our families are close.”

You nodded quietly, acknowledging him. Mingi lifted the glass of water to his lips, your eyes locking on how his throat moved when he swallowed the cool liquid. Your gaze trailed up to his face, heated gazes locking as he pulled the glass away. Your breathing elevated, Mingi was looking at you as if he wanted to eat you… The corners of his mouth tilted up as he held out the half-full glass of water to you.

You couldn’t look away. The intensity behind his eyes locked you in place, your fingers brushing his own as they curled around the cool glass. Mingi couldn’t look away, couldn’t stave off the stirring in his shorts as he watched you turn the glass and drink.. His mouth prints are being covered by your own.

Mingi’s brain couldn't help it. To him, you’d just indirectly kissed him. He could see the range of emotions in your eyes. The eye contact finally broke when Mingi caught sight of a droplet of water cascading its way past the rim of the glass and making a path down your jaw and neck… he watched it disappear under the almost sheer camisole.

“Fuck, ____… You don’t make it easy.” He groaned throatily, prompting you to set the now-empty glass on the counter once more.

“What do you mean?” Your head tilted, eyebrows drawing in confusion.

An amused chuckle sounded between you, Mingi shaking his head in slight disbelief. “You seriously don't know how much we want you, do you?” He moved away from the counter, towering above you. Your chin was tilted up toward him by his index and middle finger, Mingi’s hot breath dusting your face. “You’ve got to know how fucking crazy you make us.”

“U-Us?” You echoed in confusion. You sounded breathy and distracted.

“Mhm. He’s right.” You jumped at the sound of the new voice. Yunho.

Mingi’s fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your head to Yunho’s tall figure casually leaning against the doorway. “Look at Yunho when he’s talking to you, Dollface, hm?” Mingi’s lips sounded against your ear, teeth grazing against the shell.

Yunho made it no secret that he was checking you out. Not when his bottom lip pulled into his teeth when his dark eyes roamed your figure. “We could give you everything you need and more, Angel.” His tone is soft, and you nearly find it harder to focus when Mingi’s face is pressed to your own, his hands sliding around your waist after finding no resistance.

“If you let us.” Mingi finished for him, ghosting his lips against the corner of your jaw. “But you ought to think about it…decide what you want.” His words left you confused, your eyebrows furrowing when they cut through the haze.

“Why?” You looked to Yunho, the male grinning at the desperation in your eyes.

He tutted, shuffling closer. Yunho’s long fingers slid into your hair, palm cupping your cheek. He almost cooed fondly at how you arched into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut. “Because this wouldn’t be just a one-time thing,” he murmured. “If we have you, we aren’t letting you go. You’re ours.”

Your breathing stilled, mind dizzying. A sound escaped your throat, both Mingi and Yunho’s touch seizing from your body. “Think about it, We won’t make a move until you do.”

And with that, both men left the kitchen with sick grins, leaving you standing there breathless and wanting.

You hadn’t slept for the rest of the night. How could you? With a proposition like that, your mind only raced. You’d come to the same conclusion. Nothing they said last night had scared you away. You still very much wanted them both, and actually, you liked the idea of being ruined for anyone else. Being theirs… well.. You guessed your thoughts of good guys only wanting bad girls were wrong.

You were already showered and dressed for the day by the time Yunho emerged from his room. Mingi was still sleeping, his door firmly shut opposite the room you were staying in.

You sat at the round four-seater table at the far end of the kitchen, a cup of coffee in one hand as you scrolled on your phone. Yunho liked the blue colour of the blouse you wore, your cotton shorts complimenting it nicely.

He fixed his cup, sitting silently across from you. Yunho wondered if he and Mingi crossed a line with you yesterday. He’d worried about it all night after the kitchen encounter. All worries were soon washed away when he caught your eyes shyly glancing up at him.

“Was last night okay?” He blurted, almost wincing at how rushed he sounded.

You seemed to pause, taking a long sip of your coffee before you answered him. Almost as if you were making him wait. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” You voiced, prompting his shoulders to relax.

The both of you sat in a comfortable silence until you’d finished your drink. “It’s so sunny out, I’m gonna catch some sun.” You washed your coffee mug up, then turned to Yunho just before you left the room. “Wanna join?”

Yunho nodded, claiming he would meet you out on the deck. What he didn't expect was to find you in a pastel peach string bikini, the front of your body shiny and glistening with tanning oil. He can see where you had missed spreading the liquid on your back.

He inwardly groaned. Surely, you were doing this to him on purpose at this point. Yunho readjusted the sunglasses on his face, setting his phone and book down on the small table between the two sun loungers. He leaned back in his lounger, picking up his book to flick through.

From the corner of his eye, he watched you lie your lounger flat, adjusting the head cushion to lie on your front. The sun bounced off your skin beautifully, and Yunho was about to compliment as such but stopped short when your hands reached behind you to untie your bikini top.

“You don’t mind, do you? I hate tan lines.” He couldn’t see the mischief behind your eyes with your sunglasses in place, but he for sure caught the twitch of your mouth. “Did I miss any of my back?” Your question was loaded with faux innocence.

Yunho slowly folded his book back, slipping in his bookmark in the process. He set it down, wordlessly grabbing the tanning oil and standing from his lounger. Yunho perched himself on the edge of yours. “You missed a bit. Can I?”

You hummed your consent, propping your head on your forearms. “Mhm, please.”

Your stomach fluttered at the feeling of Yunho’s big hands on your bare back. The tingles returned, just like from Mingi’s touch in the kitchen. His hands slowly rubbed the oil into your skin, fingertips adding pressure at your shoulder blades.

“You’re tense.” He mumbled, thumbs working at the knots of muscle easing the ache away only to make the ache in your core yearn for him further. His hands firmly pushed up from the bottom of your back, thumbs caressing your spine and his fingertips brushing the sides of your breasts.

The sounds he pulled from you had Yunho smirking to himself. An almost pained moan had his fingers pausing. “There.” You sounded so breathy... Yunho wondered if you’d sound like that if he found your sweet spot too…

“God..” You groaned, “You got magic hands or something?” You mumbled against your arm.

Yunho laughed softly, dragging his hands down toward the base of your spine. He thought for a moment, eventually speaking up. “You don't like tan lines, right?” He waited for your hum of affirmation. “Then what about these?” His fingers tugged at the waist of your bikini bottoms.

Your eyes sprang open, neck twisting to look back at him. Whatever he had expected you to say or do was not indeed what you said and did for certain… Yunho watched on in stunned fascination as you swiftly untied the strings on both sides of your bikini bottoms. “You’ve got a point. Mind helping me out again?”

Yunho had never agreed to something so fast, pulling your bikini bottoms back from behind. He swore under his breath, mouth parted as he watched the drizzles of the tanning oil hit your skin from the bottle in his hand. His hands moulded to your body again, smearing the shimmery tanning oil over the globes of your ass. He was entranced, locked on the way they rippled under his touch. Yunho allowed his fingers to testingly dip close between your legs, rewarded with a soft moan of his name. Your breathing was getting shallow, your body responding to his touch like a magnet. His fingers brushed so close, one arch of your hips and-

Yunho withdrew his hands, once again leaving you to sit on his lounger once again. You were a mess, body trembling as you attempted to recover. “There. All done.” The amusement behind his voice was clear to you.

Fuck.

After Mingi had woken up, he’d ventured out to the deck to join you. His chest was exposed, a pair of black swimming trunks sitting low on his hips. He sat in the lounger you previously occupied. “Where is she?” He asked Yunho, arms stretched above his head in a yawn.

Yunho nodded toward the lake where you were, sitting on the small jetty with your legs dangling in the water. As if you’d sensed him, you looked up from the ripples of the lake water and caught Mingi’s gaze. He grinned fondly at the beaming smile on your face as you lifted your arm to wave. “Cute.” He murmured to his friend.

Yunho nodded in agreement. “The sun suits her.” He looked up from his book. “Makes her eyes shine.”

Mingi tilted his head, smile broadening as you slid off the jetty and into the water. “She caught a tan today?” He didn’t look away from you once as you swam over, climbing up the ladder to the dock and brushing your wet hair away from your face.

“Yep...oiled up and everything.” Yunho thought back to how you’d just let his hands trail your body like that. Once again, he shut his book as you approached.

“Mings! Sleep well?” You asked, grabbing one of the towels you’d brought out with you that morning. You took no notice of the trance he was stuck in, too focused on the water droplets dripping down your body just like last night.

Well... a little like last night, he could see more of your body. Peach suited you. Yunho nudged Mingi with his foot, snapping him from his staring. “Huh? Oh! Yeah, slept great.” He sat back in the lounger. “Always do out here.”

After drying as much of your body as you could, you disappeared inside. It wasn’t long before you reappeared, a cherry popsicle in your hand. Mingi’s arm encircled around your waist when he noticed you were about to sit on the floor. Instead, he let you sit between his legs on the lounger.

“Better than the floor,” you joked. You lifted the end of the popsicle to your mouth with your left hand, and your right beginning to mindlessly scroll through your phone.

Your body relaxed against Mingi’s chest as his fingers mindlessly played in your hair. “Is the water warm?” He asked, raising an eyebrow of amusement as you moved the popsicle away from yourself with a grimace. The iced treat had melted, the sticky substance making a mess of your hand and chin. You didn’t even want it anymore. The Cherry taste was more sour than expected.

“A little chilly to begin with,” You answered, slotting the half-eaten treat back into the wrapper, Yunho taking it from your sticky fingers to put it in the bag they were using as a bin for their snack wrappers.

Mingi didn’t say anything more. Instead, he grasped your wrist in his hold and brought your hand to his mouth. With a startled gasp, you tilted your head to watch as he lapped up the remnants of the melted liquid from your skin. Once he was satisfied, he let your arm go to shift his attention to your neck and collarbones. His mouth was warm and soft, wet tongue lapping at the mess on your skin. Your arms raised behind you to curl your fingers into his hair, sighing out in contentment.

Mingi moaned against your skin. He was addicted now he finally had his lips on you. Just like he knew he would be. Mingi’s teeth nipped gently at the juncture of your neck, his tongue swirling over the skin to soothe it. You didn’t have it in you to scold him for marking you up… not when your mind was a dizzy spell of fire.

Your dazed, addled mind didn't even see Yunho move from his lounger. You hadn’t a clue until his strong hands grasped your ankles, fingertips ghosting their touch up your legs to part your thighs. “So pretty.” His honeyed voice reached your ears through the haze. “But, sweet as she looks…” He began, his tone sharpening. “I made a discovery earlier, Mingi.”

The younger hummed against your skin, mouth still worshipping your skin. “Mh? What’s that?” His words muffled with his wet kisses across the tops of your breasts above your bikini.

“Our Angel, here.” Yunho toyed with the strings of your bikini bottoms. “Already knew what she wanted the moment she came on this trip with us, didn’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t think of a coherent thought right now… a sharp swat of Mingi’s hand across the top of your thigh drew out a whimpered gasp. “Yunho asked you a question, Dollface.”

“Yes! Yes, I knew.” You cried out, Mingi’s teeth biting at your skin once more.

“Thought so.” Yunho mused. “That stunt you pulled earlier really didn’t work in your favour, did it?” You hadn’t ever heard his mocking tone before, but you weren't about to complain… It sent shocks through your core.

“No, It didn’t.” You admitted. You were hoping to wind him up, determined to see how far he would go before he snapped… but instead, he’d left you practically naked and wanting on the lounger next to his.

Yunho tutted, shaking his head. He tugged the ties of your bikini free, letting the strings hand down. “I’m going to enjoy this.” He spoke raucously, shuffling down to lie at the foot of the lounger on his stomach.

Yunho's soft lips made contact with the inside of your knee, traipsing kisses up until he met the crease of your leg. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing you. The lake house was in the middle of a wooded area, two miles from the road or any neighbouring cabins.

Mingi held you still as your body began to writhe, the product of Yunho's lips blowing cool air over your throbbing centre. “Stay still, Pretty girl.” Mingi said gruffly, mouthing at your breast over your bikini.

His mouth worked at the bud of your left boob, lips suctioning around the nipple. Your whines fell on deaf ears, Mingi just wanted to kiss every inch of you. He struggled with the knot at the centre of your back that kept you partly clothed. Frustrated grunts, making him lift his mouth off of you to attempt to untie it. He settled with wrapping part of the string around each fist and tugging, effectively snapping the material.

Your head was too fuzzy to care, especially when you felt the flat of Yunho’s tongue lick straight up the middle of your core. “Yunho!” One of your hands flew down, from being draped around Mingi’s neck behind you, to clutch Yunho's hair. His mouth was relentless, muscular hands holding your thighs over his shoulders. You never knew a man could moan like that from eating pussy but here he was, his noises creating vibrations against you.

You didn't quite know where to pay attention to, Mingi’s mouth and fingers abusing your nipples or Yunho's onslaught of licks and sucks on your clit.

You slumped against Mingi again when Yunho prodded two fingers at your entrance, your hips cantering in acceptance. “You're so wet, Angel. Bet I could just easily…” Yunho trailed off as his middle and index finger finally pushed in. They dug deep within your walls, a long moan echoing around the deck. “Knew it.” He curled his digits, the pads of his fingertips tapping against the spongey wall he was looking for.

It elicited a sharp cry from you, Yunho mumbling a small ‘found it.’ before his mouth latched onto your clit again, tongue flicking in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers hitting your sweet spot.

By now, your sounds of ecstasy were no secret, pleas of their names desperately calling out as you writhed in their grasp. “Please!” You begged, Mingi lifting his head to watch your expression.

Mingi made a sound of disappointment as he was met with the sight of your head thrown back and your eyes closed. “Watch him, ____.” it wasn't a request. His tone held no room for debate, and so you peeled your glazed eyes open, tilting your head down to watch as Yunho devoured you.

You felt your orgasm building the faster Yunho's fingers abused your g-spot. Your moans rising in pitch. You didn't even give him a warning when your lower abdomen tensed, toes curling as the sound you let out was almost animalistic. Your thighs shook around Yunho's head, attempting to close, the fingers in his hair tightened to pull at the roots harsher than you meant.

When Yunho's head finally lifted from between your legs, he was grinning ear to ear at you as you slumped breathlessly against his best friend. You could feel Mingi's erection against the base of your spine from where you were laid.

“We're not done with you yet, Dollface.” Mingi cooed mockingly, looking down at your fucked out figure. He pressed a kiss to your forehead when you looked up at him, shaking his head gently and guiding your eyeline back to Yunho.

Your whole body froze. Yunho's swim trunks were chucked haphazardly onto the other chair, his hand slowly jerking his cock. He was huge! Probably the biggest cock you'd ever seen… his girth was impressive alone but you worried if he would even fit.

“____, you good?” He asked encouragingly. Yunho could see the apprehension on your face give way to a determined squint.

“Mhm. Fine, m'good.” Mingi's palms rubbed your sides as you answered.

“Okay, you need to tell Yunho if it's too much.” He stated. “You can make sure to do that, can't you?” He sent you a dazzling smile when you nodded.

You will yourself to relax as the fat head of Yunho's leaky cock makes the first press against you. Just the tip was stinging from the stretch. Mingi hugged your back to his front, kissing up and down the left side of your face and neck. “Relax. Stop tensing.” he demanded softly.

Mingi continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ear. Praising you, touching you, telling you how much you drove them both crazy. It relaxed your muscles enough to accept Yunho's length, pushing into you further. His teeth harshly bit into his bottom lip, his hips rolling slowly forward to sheath the final few inches in you. The garbled moan you made was accidental, but you were thankful Yunho stayed still to give you time to adjust.

“Holy shit.. are you all the way in?” Such an odd question to ask his best friend, but Mingi was never brash about such things.

Yunho nodded, his voice strained as he answered. “Our Angel’s a good girl. Of course, she took it all.” He grunted at the squeeze of your heat at his words. “I'm so deep.” He marvelled.

Mingi, as if to test his words, pressed his hand on your lower stomach. His eyes bulged out of his head, free hand reaching for your own for you to feel the outline of Yunho's cock. You whined, trying to roll your hips as a signal.

Yunho's thrusts started gentle, light taps of his hips against your thighs. Until you get used to his size, the initial discomfort makes way for blinding pleasure. His movements grow more calculated and hard. Mingi's hand stays on your lower stomach, feeling the way Yunho’s cock nudges your insides.

“Y-Yunho.. Yuuunhooo!” Your throat was hoarse from screaming his name repeatedly. “You're s-so deep!”

His thrusts get firmer, fingers digging into your thighs harder than before. This man was literally rearranging your guts in the best way. Mingi lets his hand glide from your stomach to toy with your clit, circling it with his fingers. It hadn't been long since your last orgasm but you were fast approaching a second. Yunho wasn't much better himself, his pace quickening. He felt his skin prickling as he approached his high.

The moment you fell apart around him, Yunho lost it. His thrusts grew sloppy, hips jittering as he spilt into you. “Fuck, Angel.” he panted. “You're gonna kill me.” Yunho pulled out slowly, taking his time to watch his release leak from you. He felt hot and sweaty but nicely sated.

Mingi manoeuvred your body back to the lounger as he slipped out from under you. The noticeable tent in his trunks caught your eye briefly. “Can you take one more?” He questioned you.

Yunho planted himself back on his own chair, sitting back to watch the two of you. He watched the obedient nod you gave, messy hair falling in front of your face.

Mingi tapped your cheek gently, pushing your hair back before connecting your mouths. The kiss was full of desperation, tongues curling around each other. You protested when he pulled back all too soon. “Turn over.” He helped you roll onto your stomach.

Unlike Yunho, Mingi didn't give a warning that he was going to thrust into you. He still gave you time to adjust, though, that much you were grateful for. His thrusts were brutal from the start.

Mingi wasn't holding back anymore. He wanted you ruined for anyone else but them. You were theirs and theirs only. He had a bruising grip on your hips, guiding them as you bounced back to meet his hips. Your moans and screams for him were constant, you'd surely have a sore throat in the morning.

He was pounding into you much harder than Yunho had. You had the pillow of the lounger in a death grip, back arched. Mingi watched the way your ass cheeks rippled with every bounce against his pelvis. You started to feel overstimulated, this was the quickest in your life you'd had an orgasm build up. Though, it was aided by the previous two and the mass amounts of tension between the three of you. Your lips parted on a silent cry as you came. Your body began to violently tremble.

Mingi pulled out immediately, his hand gripping his cock to empty his come over your ass, pruning deep in his chest. “You did so good.” He praised, breathless.

Your brain felt like it wasn't working. All you could do was dazedly giggle in reply. Thoroughly fucked.

“We broke her.” Mingi laughed, using the same towel you dried yourself with earlier to wipe your ass and lower back. He was sweet enough not to drag the rough material over your sensitive pussy. You were too overstimulated for that and he picked up on it quite quickly.

Both Yunho and Mingi pulled you into the en suite bathroom in Yunho's room a few minutes later. Your legs felt like jelly, and the two were cautious with how they handled you.

After they had showered you, Mingi wrapped you in a big fluffy towel. His arms held you to his body. You still hadn't said much, but your blissed out expression meant that the two men weren't worried.

“C'mon Dollface, you need rest.” Mingi said as he stroked your damp hair behind your ear. “We've got so much more in store for you.”

465 notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 20 days

Note

Are you going to make another part for the Angel and Demon Brat? If you do, please have them fumbling and Damian + Danny taking full advantage. Also, could you do something about Cujo please? I don’t think Danny would move without him

Danny will admit that he is having a little too much fun with his birth father's family. But could one blame him? They made it all too easy. Also, he was starting to see why Damian had been a bit hesitant to tell them about him.

It was not that they threatened him in any way, but he could see how hard it was for them to have a normal relationship with anyone. Just his small forms of affection made a lot of the Waynes' skin crawl.

They still gave in regardless. Danny worries it's the most hugs any of them have gotten in years. It couldn't be mentally healthy. Or could it? Some people didn't like to be touched, and that was fair.

He did have to play a careful balance.

He knew that if the League of Assians found out about Damian caring for him, Danny would go from being a Lost sibling to a Dead sibling. The Waynes on the other hand were under the impression that denying him anything would cause Time to erease him- not that Clockwork would dare. Who would try his spicy salsas then?- so they were much more careful in how they handled him.

Tim was his favorite. Danny could tell the other boy really liked being acknowledged, and unlike Dick, who thrived on being the center of attention, Tim struggled to let people know.

So Danny had small ways to give him what he desperately craved and had a little fun with it.

He carefully knocks on the boy's door room, clutching his pillow and blanket. There was a small pause where he could hear Tim scruffling around, likely trying to hide the coffee maker under his bed. Danny didn't have the heart to tell him the whole mansion but Alfred and Bruce knew about his bedroom coffee maker.

Maybe he should hint about it tomorrow at breakfast? Watch Tim sweat?

He shifts his face into an innocent expression when Tim opens the door. The other squints at him, likely catching his more mischievous expression but unwilling - or unable- to call him out on it.

"Angel Brat?" Tim says weary. The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily that one would think Tim has always called him that. Danny applauds his acting ability.

"Hi, Tim! I'm here for our bi-weekly ritual," he chirps, pushing the confused teen aside to step in. He gently rolls his heart pump behind him, mindful of the wires. It's on top of his gas tank, which he chose to wear so he could breathe some clear ectoplasm.

Gotham's ectoplasm was polluted with negative emotions, and it was giving him a headache.

None of the machines was actually doing anything—his heart rate will never be regulated due to his powers—but it was the perfect excuse for why Danny wasn't seen that often in public.

Barbara had gone back into Gotham gossip rags, publishing fake articles and small rumors on the internet that dated to the first day Damian arrived. This gave him some proof of existing before, but with the "timeline reset," it would make sense why no one could recall Danny.

As far as the Gotham citizens were concerned, Danny was an unproven rumor at best. People were asking about him but weren't daring enough to demand who Danny was.

Barbara was the best like that, and Danny should convince Damian to give her and her dad an even longer, all-expenses-paid vacation. She deserved it.

"Our bi-weekly ritual. Of course. Must have have slipped my mind." Tim carefully articulates. His words are clipped enough Danny can tell he's confused. Danny beams at him nonetheless, sitting on the ground carefully after he finishes adding his pillow and blanket to Tim's bed.

He leans his back against Tim's beg, crosses his legs underneath him, and takes a deep breath of ectoplasm.

Tim pauses for only a moment before walking over and sitting cross-leg in front of Danny. The younger boy pays him no mind while fumbling with the bag he brought along.

Danny began pulling out all his needed supplies. Five candles- each with a different color flame are left in a small circle. Five bottles sealed with wax and labeled with different named potions are carefully added to the center of the circle- he makes sure that the glitter liquid inside does not shake too much less the small surprise is noticed.

Then he pulls out a large book, with the image of a screaming skull on the cover. It's large enough that he has to set it on the ground, a thump produced from the weight.

He then carefully claps his hands four times, switching Tim's lights off so the only glow is the green, blue, pink, purple, and yellow light of the candle.

Tim looks a bit distressed. likely thinking Danny was about to start practicing the Black Magic or something. It's hard to keep a straight face as he fights off a giggle at the expression being aimed his way while he flips through the pages.

Tim carefully taps his hand against a bracelet on his wrist, which connects to the Bat's communication lines. The rest of the Bats are probably thinking that Tim is in danger even though he was supposed to be on rest duty and have tuned into the conversation. Danny isn't supposed to know that, though, since he is not "healthy" enough to be a vigilante, so he ignores it.

"Alright, should I start or you?" Danny asks when he lands on the page he was looking for. It's in Latin, which he knows Tim can read but that doesn't stop it from being creepy.

"You can start first."

"Really? You never let me go first in the bi-weekly ritual!" Danny cheers, leaning down to the page. From the corner of his eye, he can see the distress blooming more on Tim's face.

"I'm feeling...generous. I think you're old enough to start our bi-weekly ritual that requires colorful candles, a large black skull book in Latin, and five colored potions." Tim says obviously repeating the materials to the eavesdropping Bats.

"Thanks, Tim! Okay, here we go." Danny holds out his hand above the book muttering in Latin.

"Oh great, Clockwork, master of time, head my call and tell me the answer to my inquiry." Danny quickly switches to English as he grabs the potion in pink glitter. Giving it a good shake, he continues. "Does Kon-El think Tim is cute?"

The glitter shifts until a dice appears with the words- More likely than you think is visible. Danny squeals showing Tim, "Omg Tim, you have a chance!"

Tim's face falters and then turns an alarming shade of red. "What?!"

"Wait the following questions!" Danny reaches for the remaining bottles, making sure to go in the color order of the candles. Will Kon ask Tim to marry him? Yes! Where will they live? A mansion. How many kids will they have? fifteen! What will Tim's future job be? A photographer!"

Danny flips the page over to a table of data, squabbling down the answers. "Okay, you're going to get married to Kon, live in a mansion, have fifteen kids, and be a photographer. This is the third time in a row that Kon has married you. I think Clockwork is on your side for this one, Tim. It's my turn!"

Danny pretended he couldn't hear Jason laughing his ass off in Tim's earpiece or Dick's voice cry out. "No fair! I want to play spooky MASH on a bi-weekly basis."

Tim is beet red, fumbling with his hands. "Who-i-what-?"

Danny frowns. "Are you okay Tim? Should we skip Bi-boys night?"

"Bi-boy night?!" Tim squeaks.

"Yeah! I thought I would give our hang-out night a nickname, and since we mostly end up talking about cute girls and boys, I thought we could name it bi-boy night. You know since you're the only one in the family that's bi like me? I know no one will want to date me. I'm too sick...but it's nice to have a brother who gets crushes."" Danny hunches his shoulders a little ignoring the way Tim's eyes widen a bit with affection. He's touched that Danny came to him for this. Fool. "We can skip my turn. It's not like I'll have someone anyway."

Jason has stopped laughing, and Steph softly whispers. "That's so cute and sad. Who's been hurting our baby?"

Tim swallows. "No. We are not skipping your turn. We are going to play this game because anyone would be tripping over themselves for you."

"Really?" Danny smiles hopefully at Tim. Tim nods firmly, then narrows his eyes.

"No dating until you are sixteen."

"I know." Danny rolls his eyes "You've said that before."

"Good."

"But I can still have crushes right? Because I have one on Jon."

"Jon Kent?" Tim asks at the same time Bruce growls the name.

"You won't tell Dad will you?" Danny asks after nodding and blushing. Damian told him yesterday that Jon pissed him off, and with the power to heat up his ectoplasm just behind his checks, causing them to flush, he thinks he just found a good way to make the super regret upsetting his brother.

Nothing like an overprotective Bat clan to dish out vengence.

"No," Tim says, grinding his teeth. "No, I won't tell. But since I already got married to Kon maybe we can try someone else."

Danny's eyes sparkle with barely concealed glee. "Okay, let's use my second crush! He's super cooler anyway"

"Of course, what's his name?" Tim asks picking up the pink bottle.

"Your friend Bernard," Danny says, knowing Danm well, Tim had an undiscovered crush on the guy. He watches with glee as Tim chocks on his spit.

"What?!"

"Yeah, he's got muscular arms, and he can cook," Danny sighs dreamily. "Damian thinks he's hot too."

"No." Tim gasps.

"I do," Damian says over the cons to the collective shock of everyone. "Dowd has a fine physique. He's also great with animals. I approve of Daniel's involvement with him."

Danny's lower lip wobbles. "No? I can't play the game?"

Tim takes one look at him before caving. "Does Bernard Dowd think Danny is cute......it says no."

"Oh. If Clockwork doesn't think so, then I guess it's not meant to be," Danny sighs.

"Who is Clockwork?" Tim asks, placing the potion down.

Danny blinks. "You don't remember Clockwork? Lately, everyone has been forgetting important things around here. Is something wrong?"

Danny allows his body to flicker a bit with his powers, acting as if he didn't notice as Tim grows alarmed.

"I'm joking! It's a joke! Of course, I know Clockwork! Ha ha ha! Why don't we do the next thing on our Bi-Boy Night!? Want to watch a movie?!" Tim practically leaps out of his seat racing to TV. "What are you in the mood for? Comedy or horror?"

"A musical!"

"A musical!?"

However, Damian has to stop on a roof to laugh into the concrete as he listens to Drake- an active hater of musicals- try to sing along to something called High School Musical and act like he loves it as Danny sings with him. He can hear Drake's blood pressure rise with every new line

#dcxdpdabbles #Demon and Angel Brat #Part 2 #Danny is being a active menace to the Waynes #Starting with Tim #He's making everything up as he goes #He is trying to see how far he can push them by his weirdness #Fake illness #Damian is laughing at his brother #Tim is being bombarded with his crushes

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axeoverblade · 11 months

Text

Celoso

Earth 1610 Miles x fem! reader

Synopsis! Miles cut ties with you, his best friend of nearly ten years, when he decided to not so kindly tell you the way you felt about him was how he felt about Gwen. Now weeks later when you show up with a new guy, he couldn’t help but feel a covetous pit of envy burrowing deep inside his body.

MASTERLIST

Genre: angst(? not really), suggestive bits

Warnings: Mature!, foul language, toxic on every end, mentions of cheating

Word count: 2k

Authors commment: unedited and poorly written scrap fic from a while ago but I really liked this piece of it so I’m publishing it. One shot no second part. Enjoy <3

It had been months since Miles had spoken to you. His parents were concerned. They kept asking where you were, Miles would just sigh and say you had been busy.

I mean it wasn't his fault, he just didn't feel the same way you felt. Why was he being punished for that, for liking Gwen instead of you? Granted, he could’ve been a little nicer in his delivery. Who was he kidding, he could’ve been a hell of a lot nicer, but it was too far gone to change it now.

You just wouldn't get it. You have been his best friend since infancy. With you everything felt familiar, safe even. But with Gwen, he felt alive. Why was that so wrong, why wasn’t he allowed to be happy with who he wanted to be with?

He continued living his life as usual as he could make it. Still saving New York, still being Spiderman, still being Miles, just as life would be if he never met you. The ordinary.

Something that wasn't ordinary, was Gwen visiting. His dads party was happening, and even though he had just gotten into a big fight with his parents, he still wanted to go up and introduce her.

It didnt take long for Mrs.Morales to hate Gwen. Rio was furious, I mean the girl had the nerve to call her by her first name! You would never do that. Plus this girl looked old enough to vote.

This was not someone Miles should be hanging out with, especially over you.

So Rio took it upon herself to invite you. She hadn't seen you in a long time anyway, so she missed “the daughter she never had”. Knowing Miles would have to see you and eventually fix whatever happened between the two of you was just a bonus.

…

When you walked through the door to the roof a little while after she sent you that text, Rio squealed with delight.

“Jeff, papi mira! It’s Y/n” she saw a gift in your hand, something Gwen did not bring. “Ah! Y/n Mija! ¡Es muy bueno verte! Cómo está?” “Good Mrs.Morales, thank you for asking. How have you been? Sorry for not visiting, I've been busy.” “nonsense chiquita, I’m so happy you could make it, venir, venir! Come say hi! Everyone has missed you!” You gave a curt nod, preparing yourself for all the questions from the big familia and more importantly, seeing Miles.

Rio paused, seeing a tall, attractive, dark skin boy with dreads behind you, holding your hand. She looked at you with furrowed eyebrows, “Quién es ese” you pretended not to hear her, instead walking next to him behind her as she went further into the party.

After a couple of minutes of reuniting with all of the family, you saw Jeff and gave him his present. He thanked you, “Hey you know the girl Miles is with?” You looked around, still not seeing him. You shook your head no.

Jeff noticed the boy you were with was now holding your waist with one hand, standing next you. He side eyed him questionably. Jeff could’ve sworn you would only let Miles hold you like this, hating intimate acts physical touch from anyone but his son. Who was this guy who had won you over?

“Miles,” Rio paused looking at Gwen, “and uh you too I guess, Guess whos here! Come say hi! ” Rio told miles, pulling him with Gwen following over to whoever his mom wanted him to see. “Whos here mami-” He was cut off by the sight of Y/n talking to his father, and some random-, holding your waist?

He furrowed his eyebrows, who in the hell is that?

“Ay! Y/n look who!” Rio pushed her son forward so you could see him. He looked back displeased at his moms antics before turning to face you. Miles stared at you awkwardly, “Uh, hey.” You nodded at him with pursed lips.

The girl you had seen in all the drawings appeared next to him, no doubt this was girl he liked instead of you.“Uh-Hi! I'm Gwen!” She stuck her hand out, you looked at it before just nodding, causing her to drop her hand embarrassed, “Y/n”.

Rio smirked, happy you didn't like her either.

“So who are you?” Miles asked looking at the guy holding your waist, a little more aggressive in his tone than he needed to be. Miles watched as the guy raised an eyebrow mockingly at Miles. “Dre, nice to meet you”. Dre stuck his hand out, Miles to look him up and down ignoring the gesture. Dre dropped his hand, smirking lousily at Miles' expression.

Miles couldn't help but notice Dre was about an inch taller than him.

He didnt like that.

“Um, so how do you two know each other?” Gwen asked, looking between you and dre.

“I'm her boyfriend”

Miles unconsciously pulled his head into his neck, making the most aggressive stank face known to man. “Since when” he scowled, trying to hide the attitude in his voice. He wasn’t hiding it very well. Dre responded for you, “few weeks ago, why?”.

“huh” miles nodded ignoring the question, clearly annoyed. Dre kissed your shoulder, smirking harder, almost a full blown grin making its way to his face at miles expression. Miles's spider senses involuntarily made him aware of your heartbeat speeding up as you blushed, slightly giggling to yourself.

Miles had no clue why this bothered him so much. I mean he was right next to Gwen, the girl of his dreams. You being with this wannabe Luka Sabbat really shouldn't have bothered him so much. And why was your heart beating so quick from him kissing your shoulder? You didnt actually like this bum for real did you?

Feeling Miles prying eyes, you looked at him skeptically before turning to dre. “Well-uh we better get going before were late. Congrats Captain Morales,” you looked at Jeff and smiled lightly. “Um nice to meet you Gwen,” she nodded, grinning nicely. You turned to Rio “it's always nice to see you Mrs.Morales, contact me if ever need help with anything.” “Yes mija. Thank you for stopping by.” You finally turned to Miles,

“Miles”

“Y/n”

Gwen stared between the two of you confused. What was that?

tap! tap! tap!

You groaned at the sound coming from your window. Covering your head with her blanket trying to ignore the noise, you pretended to be asleep.

The taps soon turned to knocks causing you to groan louder “Dre hold on I heard you” you got up begrudgingly leaving the comfort of your bed to open the window.

“-oh, it's you." Opening the glass surprised, you allowed Miles in. Miles stared you up and down, taking note of the fact you were in nothing but a big tee, a big tee he had never seen before.

“Why is he coming to your room through the window?” He questioned, towering over you. “Miles what are you talking about?-”. “You thought it was Dre at your window right? No te hagas la mudo y/n. Why is he coming through your window, especially this late at night.”

“I dont see how that is any of your concern. We havent spoken in weeks and you wanna pretend you care what's going on in my life, on my time? Nah, that's not how that works.” Miles scoffed. “Whos shirt is that y/n- cause I know it's not yours.” “Its Dre’s, but that none of your business-” “What is he? Some rebound?” He laughed sardonically. “I mean there's no way you even really like the dude, you just liked me!” You scoffed, “Not everything is about you miles, this has nothing to do with you, I moved on.” he looked at you “Estás mintiendo”. “Oh yea? What makes you think that huh? Y-you think i'm so stuck on you that i can't move on from- what? Some stupid crush on you? Get over yourself Miles-” “tu latido” he whispered. “What?” “Your heartbeat y/n, I know you're lying ‘cause your heartbeat.” You looked at him blanky, hiding the shock in your face as he stepped closer to you, leaving a small gap between you two.

“I can feel it, Sé tú mi amas.”

He gently grabbed your neck, leaning down to kiss you. Your eyes widened before closing. Embracing the moment, you wrapped your arms around Miles' neck. Your mouth parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Feeling your knees buckle, Miles took his free hand and placed it on your backside, effectively stabilizing you. He could sense you, all of you.

Your heart was beating the fastest it ever had. He could feel your chest rising and falling as you struggled to breathe through your nose. Your pheromones were at their strongest. He smirked into the kiss, loving the effect he had on you.

This is wrong. You had a boyfriend, sure only for only about a month but you did still have one. And you were cheating on him with Miles of all people. Your lips shouldn’t have fit together like puzzle pieces, chest rising and falling at the same time with your hearts beating in sync. It was natural, like you were meant for each other.

But he wasn’t yours and you weren’t his.

You knew you should stop. You should end this before it got too far, before it got to a point beyond something an apology could fix.

But if this was so wrong,

¿Por qué se sintió tan bien?

You sat on your bed anxiously, zoned out at staring at the ceiling. It had been two days since the…incident.

Miles' tongue fought for dominance with yours. He guided you over to your bed, hands roaming all over you body needingly. You slightly tripped falling back onto the edge of the mattress, still kissing him passionately as he leaned over you. He stabilized himself putting his knee between your legs, placing his hands on either side of you. Your hands were woven into his curls, slightly pulling on them causing him to groan in the kiss. His tongue won, exploring your mouth as it pleased.

ring! ring! ring!

You pulled away from miles, a string of saliva visibly attaching the two of you as you moved further away. You breathed heavily as you looked at the user ID calling you.

DREBAE<3 is calling!

…

answer-decline

You stared at the phone wide eyed. From your expression Miles knew exactly who had called you. “no respondas eso y/n.” Miles said sternly, so close you could feel his breath tickling your neck. The way he said it seemed less like a statement and more like an ultimatum. You looked up at Miles, your chest rising and falling quickly.

“...Hello baby?” you said as you put it on speaker staring at Miles, still trying to catch your breath. Miles scoffed looking at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hey mami” Miles looked at the phone in your hand with pure disgust. Who did this guy think he was giving you that nickname? Did he even speak spanish? “I need you, real bad” Dre said breathily through the phone, causing your eyes to go wider than they already were. Miles however, became very irritated. Who in the hell did this guy think he was? And why haven’t you hung up the phone yet?

Miles quickly got up, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows. It was clear who your choice was. He scoffed, walking back over to your window . To him it didn’t matter what he said you to a few months ago, that he chose someone else over you. Or the fact you had a boyfriend who had every right to call you.

It was the fact it was only you and him right now, and you didn’t choose him. He suddenly felt the feeling you must’ve experienced when he did this to you. And damn did it hurt.

Miles stared at your figure, an unreadable look in his eye. Going back through your window with one last glance at you, he shut it with a slam. “What was that baby?” Dre asked through the phone.

“uhm.. Just the wind I think.”

©axeoverblade

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yeoldenews · 5 months

Note

I know we live in a very different world now, but I find it concerning how the newspapers printed all these kids' addresses. Did any harm ever come from that, to your knowledge?

I feel like the concept of your address being private information is a very modern one. Any news story until the mid-20th century (and much later in small towns/rural areas) would include the addresses of the individuals involved. Even the smallest towns printed yearly city directories that listed everyone's current address and occupation. So I can't imagine anyone would hesitate to publish a child's address, as why bother concealing what was already considered public information?

Furthermore, the concept of stranger kidnapping - and 'stranger danger' in general - was not something that really entered the public consciousness in the US until the 1920s, and even then the vast majority of kidnappings were for ransom. It was something that happened to rich people, usually in big cities.

It wasn't until several extremely high profile kidnappings of children in the late 20s/early 30s (namely Marion Parker, Walter Collins and Charles Lindbergh Jr.) that the concept of a stranger taking your child would probably have even crossed the mind of the average parent.

Additionally it's important to understand that the role of small town newspapers (where most of the Dear Santa letters are from) was something closer to Facebook or the Nextdoor app than a source of important news. Going on a trip? It's in the newspaper. Having a small dinner party? That's getting reported, along with the guest list, menu, party favors and any decorations you put up. Your child built a particularly nice snowman? There's a reporter here and entire town will know before dinner time.

So is it possible that some burglar used a Dear Santa letter to target the home of a wealthy child sometime in the 1890s? Sure? But I can't see why in an era where if you wanted to know where someone lived you could stop any random person on the street and say "Hey, where do the Johnsons live?" and no one would hesitate to tell you.

#asks #@kimbearablykute #history #crime history #my niche expertise on crime in early 20th century california comes in clutch every half decade or so #newspapers

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